A very bookish birthday

I am undecided about my feelings towards my birthday. Shedding the years seems a sad activity and the celebration of another year passed can seem odd when, like me, you had a 'to do when I am (fill in age)' list as long as your arm. Last year I was supposed to go and see a musical (I have never seen one), take a ride in a hot air balloon, go to a theme park (I have never been to one), learn calligraphy and learn Latin. The list does go on and it is safe to say that I did NOTHING that was on the list.

What happened? Where did the year go? Time seems to get much faster as I get older - and I often wonder what happened to those long, endless summers? I would spend hours drifting around my mother's garden - the mossy lawn would spring between my toes as I would go down to the vegetable patch to pick whatever my mother needed for our supper. Balmy evenings would be spent watching the swallows whilst lying on my bed with the windows wide open - the warm breeze nudging me further towards a sleep which seemed a thousand sleeps from the morning in September when I would wake to a stiff collar, crisp pleated skirt and a new pair of sturdy, awful shoes that I would 'grow into'. I now have an irrevocable aversion to ever being 'sensibly' shod - much to my mother's annoyance.

Time seems different now and in acknowledgment of this I have not written a list for this year. The only thing I would like to do is ride in a hot air balloon at the end of a hot summer's day, (with a bottle of cold champagne, of course) to listen to the silence of the air as I look down on a patchwork burnt by the sun. This, I think I will do.

I had a very lovely birthday weekend spent wandering the streets of Oxford in the early spring sunshine and a day spent at my parent's in the company of my family including my lovely eight week old niece who stole the show entirely - understandably. My mother baked me a fantastic cake bedecked with glitter and I have just scoffed the last piece with a cup of tea.

I was very spoilt and have been given a truck load of books - I received two Persephone Books vouchers (cannot wait to spend on Saturday) along with the following stack.

The secondhand copy of Hardy's Under the Greenwood Tree and Sylvia Townsend Warner's Summer will Show were bought in the Oxfam bookshop in Oxford with some birthday money from my Granny. The Lovely Bones and The Other Queen were given to my by my Sister - here is where I confess my dirty secret that I read Philippa Gregory, still everyone needs a bit of mental chewing gum now and again; surely? The snob in me is screaming to deny my ever having heard of her - the shame. My lovely friend bought me Elizabeth Goudge's The Bird in the Tree and Coco Before Chanel which I have wanted to watch for ages as I adore Chanel and my mum gave me Meals in Heels (I did mention my aversion to sensible shoes - it pervades every aspect of my life) which has me salivating already. The still wrapped Persephone is House-Bound by Winifred Peck which I am sure will render me house-bound for a while. And finally, Rachel (Book Snob) gave me Elizabeth Goudge's Green Dolphin Country which I have wanted to read for ages.

The long, endless summers may have become short but this hardship is counter-balanced by the realisation that I would rather a shorter summer with no starched school term looming ever closer - now I can decide my own reading list and while away my Sundays with books that I enjoy rather than a maths textbook or my MA thesis to write (of which I still have nightmares) - and that is absolutely worth getting older for.

Henry VIII's Art Deco Palace

As winter slowly creeps back into its icy lair and tree buds tentatively thicken, hope seeps into the newborn warmth of the air as we all wait for spring. Snowdrops hang their heads as the Daffodils start to take charge and perch on the edge of bloom. And every year at this time I get excited as not only is it my birthday in a few days but it is lighter when I leave work and I know that the time will come when I can leave the house with only a cardigan for warmth. I start to leave the husk of my winter hibernation and I look forward to the colour, smells and lushness of spring. The thought of soon being able to read a book in the park is simply too much excitement.

So, to take my mind off warm fantasies I am currently reading Henry: Virtuous Prince by David Starkey (with a frightful cover design). So far, I cannot put it down. Starkey writes in an incredibly accessible way. I have, perhaps a misplaced notion that non-fiction is often dry and laborious but this is a real page turner.

It has also reminded me of one of my favourite places in London. Eltham Palace was Henry VIII's childhood home. Now owned by English Heritage, the ruined medieval palace was bought by the millionaires Stephen and Virginia Courtauld who built an extraordinarily stunning Art Deco mansion on the site. The original Great Hall exists and medieval and Art Deco architecture sit side by side and work together to present an outstanding and unique palace.

The entrance to the Art Deco palace.

The Courtaulds turned the ruined moat into a lawn.

The medieval Great Hall, built by Edward IV in the 1470s

You may recognise the entrance hall from the recent film of
I Capture the Castle


Virginia's Boudoir

The ornate Art Deco interior is beautiful but my favourite room was Stephen's bathroom. I love the pattern on these curtains and the colours of the leaves against the blue tiles. The simplicity of his choice of decor is both striking and comforting. In contrast, Virginia's bathroom was covered in gold mosaic tiles, containted a Grecian statue and boasted a rather large mirror framed with lightbulbs.

Before I return to my longing for the warmth of spring I have to announce the winner of the copy of Iris Murdoch's The Book and the Brotherhood that Random House kindly gave me to offer for my book giveaway. I am pleased to let Hannah Stoneham know that she is the winner! Just email me with your address and I will pop it in the post. Thank you to everyone who entered - I hope that some of you will go out and read an Iris Murdoch - perhaps in the warmth of the sun in your local park?

A Fairly Honourable Defeat - Book review

Another of my favourite novels by Iris Murdoch is A Fairly Honourable Defeat. Published in 1970, the story is set in London during a long, hot summer. Hilda and Rupert Foster have been happily married for twenty years; they are essentially 'the perfect couple'. The only shadows at their gate are Hilda's sister Morgan and their grown-up son Peter. Nevertheless the novel opens with them celebrating their anniversary.

As they sip champagne in the cool shade of their urban garden, dipping their feet in the small pool, they discuss Julius King and his return. Julius is the intellectual, cynical and Machiavellian man who Morgan left her husband, Tallis, for some years previously. Morgan followed Julius to America where their relationship broke down. As Hilda and Rupert bask in their comfort, happiness and companionship they worry about their circle. Fraught with tension, their friends seem to be on the brink of self-destruction.

Their home is the centre - the haven which every character seeks at some point during the novel. Morgan returns to London in Julius's wake. Peter moves in with Tallis and Rupert's brother Simon and his partner Axel enter the melee as Julius slowly embroils them all in his deceitful meddling.

Julius makes a pact with the obsessive Morgan that he can destroy Axel and Simon's relationship - what he does not tell her is that he will also set out to destroy Hilda and Rupert's marriage, using Morgan as his weapon.

The lies, deceit and mistrust are triggered by Julius but all the characters perpetuate what could have been dissolved at the beginning if only they had communicated openly with each other. Julius is the 'puppet master' but Simon and Morgan are just as responsible. Evil perhaps is not just something achieved through actions but also through irresponsibility. The plot unfurls in a frustrating yet gripping fashion and climaxes with one of the most unexpected events that I have ever read.

Again, Murdoch packs her writing with symbolism but it is more subtle in this novel than the symbolism in The Bell. Clothes, food, a telephone and a giant teddy bear all shed their basic, material functions and become indicators of the internal lives of the characters. The swimming pool is a magnet, a honey-trap and even as reader I was entranced also. My imagination dipped my own toes into the same "square of flashing shimmering blue in the middle of the courtyard garden". But then, I have long had an obsessive love for being in water.

Despite the tragic events that unfold and the bleak outcome, the novel strikes me as a very, very black comedy. It is oddly humorous but there is no humour to speak of. The reader watches with a morbid fascination and you can see exactly what needs to be done to extricate the characters from their self-generated mess but there is nothing you can do. The sense of powerlessness ultimately results in warped sniggers as you read on with an increasing awareness that the novelist is almost mocking her characters for the ease at which her protagonist achieves his evil plan.

I only read this for the first time last year and it needs to be read again, like most of the books I have read by Murdoch. I think I love Murdoch's writing so much because of her probing fascination with relationships. A Fairly Honourable Defeat dissects every aspect of relationships and the reader is left emotionally drained at the end. A sign of a satisfying read!

Iris Murdoch 'season' is nearly over at Bloomsbury Bell. March will bring new books and musings but it would be great to know if any of you are thinking about reading Iris for the first time or if you will revisit her work. I have gone on and on about The Bell but here are a few more which I really recommend to you all:

1) The Sea, The Sea (won the Booker Prize - very odd, yet enjoyable read if you don't mind sea monsters)

2) Under the Net (her first novel, fascinating as very different in style and hilarious)

3) The Black Prince (A bit Fairly-Honourable-Defeat-like - packed with symbolism)

4) The Unicorn (psychological, fairly bleak but magical)

5) The Book and the Brotherhood another favourite of mine - opens at a midsummer ball at Oxford where a group of friends are reunited. Having years ago made a pact to each other which has not been fulfilled - this night sparks off a crisis. Duelling, murder, a suicide pact, passion and hatred - this is a meaty read.

I have a Vintage Classics edition of The Book and the Brotherhood to give away. Again, very kindly donated by Fiona at Random House. No question this time - just let me know in the comments section if you want to be entered for the draw. I will draw a random name on Friday 5 March and I will post anywhere. Good luck!

The Bell chimes the winner

The lucky winner of the Vintage Classics edition of The Bell is.... Jenny. Congratulations! Jenny - I couldn't find your email address on your site so it would be great if you could contact me so that I know where to send the book to!

Thank you to everyone who entered - I am sorry that I don't have a warehouse full of copies to give away. I hope that you all pick up a Murdoch and enjoy her writing as much as I do. Let me know what you think!

Bloomsbury Bell chimes for The Bell - book review

Having declared my love for The Bell in the last post, it is only fitting that this post should be a review of my beloved. I have told you the story of how I first came to read The Bell - I will now tell you exactly why I love it so much.

The Bell is about ideas, religion, sex and human relationships. It is about people who have ideas, who share ideas, whose very thoughts change their lives and impact upon others. But more than this, in a way more simply than this, it is such an English novel.

Set in a dilapidated country house in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in the English countryside The Bell examines a lay community. The community has taken up residence in the house to be close to the enclosed order of nuns who are next door at Imber Abbey.

The opening two lines are Murdoch's best "Dora Greenfield left her husband because she was afraid of him. She decided six months later to return to him for the same reason." And it is Dora Greenfield who we follow, through her disastrous marriage to Paul, to Imber Court where she joins her husband who is an art historian researching some 14th century manuscripts that belong to the Abbey.

Very quickly we realise that this is a fractious community, a community struggling to find its way and purpose in the modern world. The outside influences of Dora, Paul and the young Toby Gashe bring to light the flaws within the community. The peripheral presence of Nick, encamped in the lodge is a constant shadow over the community, specifically for its leader Michael Meade.

Meade is essentially a good but weak man. Naive, metaphorically blind and an idealist he has established a community but struggles to realise the very human flaws which can destroy such a community. James Tayper Pace is the very religious and austere presence and it is he who ends up as confessor.

The Abbess at Imber Abbey is the ever watchful presence within the novel. From the confines of her closed order she exercises authority over the community outside. But, at the heart of the novel is the bell itself.

Dora is told by Paul about the legend of the Abbey bell - that during the 14th century a nun was suspected of having a lover. When the Abbess asked the nun to confess, she would not. The Bishop arrived to probe the matter further, still the nun would not come forward so he put a curse on the Abbey and the bell "flew like a bird out of the tower and fell into the lake". Where the bell remains as the characters prepare for a new bell to be delivered and blessed at the Abbey.

Toby Gashe discovers the old bell whilst diving in the lake and he confides in Dora. Dora knowing of the legend hatches a plan with Toby to raise the bell from the murky depths. This they achieve which sets a sequence of events spiralling out to affect all the characters and ultimately destroy the community at Imber Court.

Not only does the novel nod to realism it is also packed with symbolism and bountiful imagery. It reminds me very strongly of another of my favourite books, Between the Acts by Virginia Woolf which, whilst examining different themes, is set in a country house with the same sense of history and tension running through.

I love country house novels - and this is a perfect example. It is solid, balanced, gripping and utterly re-readable. I have an old and very dog-eared copy that has my scrawling notes throughout and bent corners, tea stains and sticky marks where my fingers have been. This copy is not the one pictured above which is a first edition - my pride and joy - that is kept very safely in a cabinet.

This is a book that I can just sink into. Every time I read it I discover something new; I realise something new about one of the characters or see an event differently. From the butterfly on the train to the raising of the bell from the lake there is so much to see and enjoy. I rant at the characters, I sympathise with them, I grieve for them, I misunderstand them and I am frustrated by them but I love returning again and again to find out what they are up to.

I am not sure why but Iris Murdoch does not seem to be as widely read as other 20th century writers. So, in an attempt to get people reading Iris Murdoch I have a copy of The Bell to give away. It is a lovely edition pictured here which was kindly donated by Fiona at Random House. To be in for a chance to win (I will draw a random winner on Friday 26 Feb) simply answer the following question: In which year was The Bell first published? I am happy to post anywhere so don't worry if you don't live in the UK. Good luck!