Ilyrian Spring by Ann Bridge

Occasionally I finish one book and drift over to my bookshelves to contemplate which book to read next - and the next read turns out to be the most perfect book to suit my current mood. This does not happen often enough, but when it does, oh! The delight! I love being gripped from page one and being unable to think of anything else for days. The sheer joy of slipping in between the book covers and burrowing down into the plot so that the characters are a whisper's breath away is incomparable to anything else.

Illyrian Spring is one of those reads that pulls you in so that you are the characters. Their experiences are as vivid as your own and they become so real that to finish the book is a wrench. The protagonist is Lady Kilmichael who is also the famous painter Grace Stanway. Grace decides to escape her family and leave her life behind to go on an unplanned trip drifting and painting her way through Italy, Croatia and the eastern coast of the Adriatic sea which used to be known as Dalmatia.

Whilst in Venice, Grace meets the young Nicholas Humphries who is around the same age as her twin sons. He is an aspiring painter whose parents have convinced him to pursue the sensible route of architecture and give up painting. Just as Grace is looking for freedom from the pressures of domestic life and the associated responsibility, so Nicholas is looking for freedom from his parents rule.

Grace and Nicholas go on a journey together. They paint and explore the landscape and their lives become further and further entwined as each embarks upon an intense journey of self-discovery.

What is so interesting about Ann Bridge's writing is the insightful portrayal of characters who are in a state of flux and running away from their lives. There is no melodrama, only the deep intensity of two souls searching for answers and finding each other to aid them in their understanding.

The search for freedom on Grace's part leads her to make some startling discoveries about herself. The freedom that she craves is not gained from running away from her life but from looking inside herself and examining the truth of her problems with her family. In this way, Bridge writes with psychological astuteness and her novel is timeless as a result. After all, how many of us avoid a difficult situation by leaving it?

This book is a simply lovely and wonderful read, made more wonderful by the description of the beautiful landscapes that Nicholas and Grace explore. It made me yearn to go travelling along the Adriatic coast with only a rucksack and a pair of tennis shoes. I would swap the paint and canvas for a notebook and pen though.

Illyrian Spring seems to be a difficult book to get your hands on, I was fortunate enough to be given it by my lovely friend Rachel. She loved it and raved about it and I know exactly why - it is an honest portrayal of a realistic adventure. In other words, the reader feels as if the experiences of Grace are obtainable, if we just left a note and hopped on a train. In that way, it is made even more magical as it delves into a part of us that we all keep hidden. The part that wants to run away. The novel makes it perfectly clear though, that at some point we have to make a decision about going back and Ann Bridge leads us gently by the hand to the right decision.

If you can find this book, buy it. Beg, borrow or steal it. Reading it is like slipping into a new skin and embarking upon a trip during which life presents some answers to a few troubling questions. All this in the midst of a delicate romance in a breathtaking location where the sea sparkles and time is an irrelevance. I think I may have to dive back in.

The Weather in the Streets - Book Review

What better way to spend a sunny afternoon than by sitting in the garden, picking at a fresh bowl of strawberries and reading Rosamund Lehmann's The Weather in the Streets. I promise I am attempting to read Jane Eyre (still the saga continues) but I needed a quick fix of early twentieth century literature before fully embarking upon the epic tome. Anyway, I digress.

The Weather in the Streets is a continuation of the story of Olivia Curtis who is the protagonist in Lehmann's Invitation to the Waltz. Here, Olivia has grown up, separated from her husband and is at a crossroads when a chance encounter with an old acquaintance leads to a heady love affair.

Olivia is a nervous and vulnerable person. She never feels that she can match her sensible sister Kate who has married, produced children and is living the textbook life of domestic serenity. Feeling a failure in every sense Olivia goes home to see her sick father. It is on the train journey home that she meets Rollo Spencer, the brother of her old friend Marigold. Olivia always had a soft spot for Rollo and the reader is quickly made aware of a sense of missed opportunity as each reveals that they are not happy.

Rollo is married to Nicola, and it quickly transpires that she is not physically forthcoming. Olivia has always admired Rollo and they start having an affair. What struck me was how passively Olivia accepts Rollo as a dangerous liaison. She loves him but she is aware of the inevitability of her getting hurt as she lets him rule the relationship. Olivia has no delusion that he will leave his wife but she struggles with the constant and overwhelming presence of Nicola in all that they do. Nicola controls Rollo and, ultimately, she is his priority. Filtering down from this, Olivia is beholden to Nicola's whims. If Nicola wants to go away, then Rollo will take her. If she stays, Rollo will look after her. Olivia has to snatch her time and be grateful for it.

Nicola is a silent presence, she is given no voice in the narrative. But, arguably, hers is the strongest. The protagonists are circling around her at all times and the reader is caught between sympathy for this unknown character and the desire that she would release Rollo from her grip. Interestingly, Olivia discovers that she is pregnant just as Rollo goes away with Nicola for a long holiday. Throughout the ordeal of Olivia concealing her morning sickness from her family and her booking a termination the reader is left on a precipice of hope. Surely, Rollo will come back for her? Surely, it will be alright? But Olivia calmly goes through with it as she knows that she is only second in Rollo's affections and that he will never leave his wife.

Painfully, Olivia tells Rollo when he returns and although he is distressed through shock, he barely manages to comfort her. Rather she comforts him. Nicola, of course, becomes pregnant and Olivia realises how fickle Rollo really is. Relations restored with his wife, his attentions towards Olivia become slack.

Lehmann's characterisation is so piercing that the reader feels dragged into the mind of each character as they become entangled in a web of messy relationships and journeys of self-discovery. Olivia is both perceptive and resigned. She is striving on the one hand for understanding, love and reassurance but on the other she knows the truth of the situation and she makes huge personal sacrifices as a result.

I wondered as I was reading, whether Olivia embarked upon the relationship out of a combination of both nostalgia and safety. Nostalgia because Rollo was her first girlhood crush, her friends glamorous older brother. And safety because, having left her husband, she wasn't really looking for one hundred percent commitment. I gained a sense that this bright girl was struggling with the realisation that she has not achieved all that she thought she might with the consequence that she drifted into a relationship to consume all her attentions rather than pursue her writing, her dreams and ultimately, rather than find herself.

Moments of strength would quickly fade as Rollo charmed Olivia back into the cycle of being his mistress. If this isn't a man who wants his bread buttered on both sides, I don't know what he is! I was exasperated as Olivia just couldn't make that final break. And my mind would stray to Nicola. We know she doesn't love Rollo but does that make it alright?

I was left with a mixed feeling of bewilderment as Lehmann leaves the reader reeling from Olivia's passive acceptance that she and Rollo will remain lovers. Is Lehmann pointing out that some women sacrifice too much for men? Obviously, I am not reading this book through the eyes of a young woman in 1936, rather I have the legacy of feminism sitting on my shoulder. Am I being too hard on Rollo and Olivia?

Reading books like this in the 21st century is fascinating as I sometimes realise that we haven't necessarily 'come that far'. There are plenty of books being published now in which a female 'heroine' compromises herself to keep 'her man'. But reading this article a few months ago I started to wonder if something was brewing. But I thought nothing more of it as life drifted on. Yesterday, I treated myself to a magazine - I bought ELLE, an old favourite. This month there is a feature on passivity within relationships and it cites Laura Munson (see article) as an example. Something is indeed brewing here. Is it new - or is it a resurrection of the age old hatred of the shrewish woman?

Either way, a thread is being spun in the women's lifestyle pages at the moment. Remaining passive in the face of relationship difficulties will apparently steer the relationship back on course. Erm, I am no expert but I have found that an equal amount of work from both parties will carry a relationship through the rocky times. And once through the rocky times, you are both reassured that the other is investing themselves fully in making the relationship work. A great sense of fulfilment, respect and love is borne through this knowledge. The women behind the two articles I have found on this topic seem to imply that the majority of women react hysterically to the prospect of a relationship breaking down. Do we? If so, yes, a certain amount of calm might be worth investing in. But passivity?

I think I would always wonder if the relationship was still breathing merely through his apathy bred as a result of the lack of response he had got from me. It is, after all, easier to stay in a rut than jump out. Do we really want to stay with men who announce that they don't want to be with us? And then stay, because we continued to feed them, clean for them and not make any demands of them?

The Oxford English Dictionary cites the word passive as being synonymous with submissiveness. An interesting thought for modern times. Lehmann, in 1936, made it clear that Olivia's passivity made her both unhappy and submissive. She didn't strive for a solid relationship instead she tiptoed around Rollo and ended up aborting their baby so as not to cause him the anguish of having an illegitimate child. I think Lehmann was trying to tell women something and, it appears, her message is as relevant today as it was seventy years ago.

To Bed With Grand Music - Book Review

It has taken me five cups of tea to ponder this book and reach any sort of conclusion as to what I think of it. I was left totally bemused and one of my first thoughts was 'this isn't the wartime that my granny remembers so fondly'. You know the sort of thing, dashing young officers asking girls to dance whilst only expecting a peck on the cheek goodbye at the end of the night. This novel suggests very different wartime behaviour.

The novel opens with Deborah Robertson in bed with her husband, Graham; a portent of what is to come. Deborah promises Graham that she will remain faithful to him as he is being posted to Cairo. Graham, however is a little more hesitant as he knows he cannot do without sex for three or four years. Instead, he promises not to fall in love with anyone else. Deborah is horrified that he cannot commit to her and eventually gets him to concede to be faithful.

As soon as Graham has left, Deborah tries to turn her attention to their baby son, Timmy. However, it soon transpires that Deborah is not interested in being a housewife and even less interested in being a mother. The weeks go on and Deborah leaves Timmy more and more in the care of her housekeeper, Mrs Chalmers. When Deborah's mother arrives for a visit, she can see that Deborah is bored and upsetting Timmy as a result. She suggests that Deborah try to find a job. In fact, Deborah's mother is well aware that her daughter is not suited to the roles of wife and mother so she actively encourages Deborah to go to London in search of something to occupy her time whilst Graham is away.

When Deborah visits her friend, Madeleine, in London she is swept away by the freedom and glamour of Madeleine's life. Instead of search for a job Deborah goes for dinner with Madeleine and two male friends, and she ends up in bed with one of the men. Deborah's fall into infidelity is swift and seemingly without a thought for Graham or Timmy. Until the morning after when she skulks home and promises herself that she will stay in the country and look after Timmy until Graham's return.

As you can probably predict, Deborah does not stay in the country and await her husbands' return. Instead she moves in with Madeleine and embarks upon a wartime career of working her way around the male members of the armed forces in return for gifts, expensive nights out and, ultimately, excitement.

There are moments during which Deborah has doubts and wonders about her behaviour, but these are swiftly cast aside with self-justification and a total failure to realise the fact that she has become, in essence, a prostitute. Her male friends pass her around each other; she obviously gains a reputation as being available. She acquires jewels, stockings, make up, expensive dinners at fancy restaurants, perfume and a myriad of other gifts which are her payment.

Deborah is a character that I totally despised. It wasn't so much her behaviour as her refusal to think realistically about her actions and their consequences. She is a weak personality, easily led astray by Madeleine and seemingly incapable of refusing temptation. Towards the end of her novel her relationship with her son is redundant as he clings on to Mrs Chalmers for love and attention. And instead of thinking proactively about Graham's impending return she just turns away and pursues her current course, which in the light of peace takes her into the arms of businessmen as the armed forces are all returning home.

I disliked Deborah immensely - the very fact that at the end of the novel she showed no remorse, just resentment that her life would inevitably return to its pre-war state, only made me dislike her even more. Deborah's desire for Madeleine's life is farcical as we clearly realise that Madeleine is envious of Deborah's husband and baby. Instead of realising this and appreciating her life, Deborah pursues a life of glamour and hedonism with an underlying streak of bitterness about her marriage and child.

To Bed With Grand Music is a great read as it strips all sense of nostalgia from your thoughts of the second world war. Instead you realise that human nature was, of course, the same and people took advantage of the unique circumstances to please themselves.

In direct contrast to the portrayal of war by Marghanita Laski, I watched a documentary on Channel 4 called Time Warp Wives. Now, this was a piece of trash tv that I slumped in front of last week but it was quite an interesting programme as some modern women are retreating into the past to escape modern life. The majority of women featured in this programme had decided to live in the 1940s and 1950s; before women's liberation one might add. Anyway, they are under the impression that manners were impeccable, there were no social problems and every woman was faithful and dutiful to her husband. Perhaps they should all read To Bed With Grand Music to cure their ailment of acute nostalgia.

These women are totally delusional but it is interesting that they all revert to fantasy to avoid the pressures of modern life. What they don't seem to realise though is that throughout history 'modern life' has always been stressful, uncertain and, crucially, perceived to be worse than any period that has gone before. Deborah escaped her life into a fantasy that cannot be sustained - as have the women on the tv programme. I think I would rather face up to the grit of everyday life - even if that means I have to forget about sepia wartime dances leading to a mere peck on the cheek.

Miss Buncle's Book saves the day

Endpapers taken from a design by Vanessa Bell used in Miss Buncle's Book published by Persephone Books

Hotels can be isolating, bizarre and frankly surreal. Whilst I was alone in New York I was staying in a pokey little hotel with dark corridors and a really terrifying lift. The shaft had no roof so you could look up through the gap and see the sky. I don't think that an engineer had been near it since the 1920s and it clanked its way jerkily to my floor at the top of the building. Negotiating the metal sliding door and external heavy door was a real test of strength and skill. If I managed to escape the clutches of one door I could just as easily get squished by the other. I wasn't very good at it and a cleaner had to (very kindly) show me the trick. Which involved speed and agility - neither of which I have.

My room was clean and had a clear view of the Empire State Building which was really exciting. I was out and about all day so it was a relief to get back to my room and rest my weary legs - the unfamiliar noises of the city and hotel were soon forgotten about as every night I would open Miss Buncle's Book and lose myself in the little piece of England that I had brought with me.

Miss Barbara Buncle has run out of money so as an enterprising woman she sits down and writes a bestseller - Disturber of the Peace. Barbara Buncle's book is about a village and it's inhabitants and is a gripping portrayal of life in Middle England. However, it is not strictly a work of fiction.

Barbara Buncle has spent her whole life in Silverstream, she is considered odd, pitiful and a 'typical' spinster. But Barbara Buncle has a gift - she is an astute and insightful observer and has the ability to pierce to the core of the human soul. Her work of 'fiction' is more of an account of the people of Silverstream; renamed Copperfield in Disturber of the Peace.

Miss Buncle's Book portrays English village life at its best. When the peace is disturbed and the mirror has been turned around on to its inhabitants. The characters in Disturber of the Peace are easily recognisable to the inhabitants of Silverstream as they are the characters. For some, this makes for uncomfortable reading as Miss Buncle portrays them warts and all.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading this truly English novel as DE Stevenson flays the village open and presents all the stereotypes for us to gawp over and laugh at. But overriding this was the wonderful message that the most overlooked amongst us can achieve the most unexpected of things. Through hard work, perseverance and an iron will Barbara Buncle transformed her life. She strode out and took a risk, in taking that risk she disturbed the peace and found happiness.

The gentle pace and lightheartedness were exactly what I needed to end my days tramping the streets of New York sightseeing. There is no greater comfort than a book to sink into and lose yourself in - especially when it is a book that has been published by Persephone Books.

This week is Persephone Book Reading Week, hosted by Claire at Paperback Reader and Verity at The B Files. The next Persephone I have on my list is House-bound by Winifred Peck which I am really looking forward to and hopefully I will have time to finally read Family Roundabout by Richmal Crompton which has been on my pile of books for an absolute age.

There have always been Starkadders...

A Sussex farm

Sussex in the springtime is utterly delightful. Primroses skirt the hedgerows and Daffodils nod their regal heads in the blustery spring air that drives the tail of winter into hiding. The South Downs become peppered with colour as delicate flowers unfurl their jewelled heads and the trees start to bud. This year's leaves are all in waiting whilst the weather calms and softens. Once the clocks change the new found evening light promises months of frivolity and summery abandon.

My Granny was brought up on a farm in deep, deep Sussex. As a child I would listen, enthralled by both the tales of her father and their animals, and by her knowledge of the countryside. I spent the best part of my childhood walking with her around the lanes and fields surrounding her village learning what each plant, tree and bird were called. Every season would bring fresh excitement and every spring we would go and stand on the fence of the big house, to look over at the sprawling mass of daffodils and primroses that they had in their grounds.

The past few weeks have been full with all sorts of different things so I found myself in a reading rut. I would get part way through a book and listlessly place it back on the shelf as I was just unable to settle with anything. After the fifth attempt at getting through a novel I rang my mother to seek advice. And, of course, she suggested the book that really I should have turned to first. The very book which is perfect for this time of year but also for getting out of a reading rut.

As I opened Cold Comfort Farm for what must be the millionth time (I may exaggerate slightly) I was immediately gripped as Flora Poste rolled up her sleeves and got to work. Stella Gibbons wrote Cold Comfort Farm in 1932. The British countryside changed dramatically in the first half of the twentieth century and Cold Comfort Farm documents the altering state of the countryside through a wry and very English humour.

The peculiarity and sheer backwardness of the Starkadder's who have 'always been at Cold Comfort' is perfectly offset by Flora Poste's very modern, progressive and urban ways. Flora, recently orphaned, goes to stay at Cold Comfort Farm as she has been left with little money so wants to try her hand as a novelist. She realises that she can stay for free with relatives whilst acquiring 'material' for her great work of fiction.

This quickly goes awry as she realises that she is simply better at being interfering and sorting out the lives of the tumultuous Starkadder's than she is at writing. The Starkadder's (who have always been at Cold Comfort) are a family that is easy to mock. Whether it is Amos and his calling to lead the 'Quivering Brethren' or Elfine with her 'poetry' and longing for local gentry-pin-up Dick Hawk-Monitor, the Starkadders are splayed open for ridicule. Adam Lambsbreath with his 'liddle mop' and Seth seething with sexual urges in the corner, Reuben clinging on to his birth right which no one else wants anyway and Judith with her forboding and near incestuous love for Seth. They are all stark mad.

But none more so than Aunt Ada Doom - who as a young child 'saw something narsty in the woodshed' - she holds the entire family in her psychological stranglehold due to the 'narsty woodshed' incident. No Starkadder is to leave Cold Comfort as there have 'always been Starkadders at Cold Comfort'. Her fear of change and modernisation present the perfect challenge for Flora who, through Gibbons' ironic wit, realises that Aunt Ada Doom 'was the Dominant Grandmother Theme, which was found in all typical novels of agricultural life (and sometimes in novels of urban life, too). It was, of course, right and proper that Aunt Ada should be in possession at Cold Comfort; Flora should have suspected her existence from the beginning.'

Flora is an advocate of a 'tidy life'. Her mission is to 'tidy' the Starkadder's which she accomplishes - whilst inadvertantly tidying her own life too, of course.

Some of the first 'tidying' that Flora accomplishes is teaching Meriam about family planning -having had four unplanned pregnancies out of wedlock Meriam, Flora decides, is in need of some tidy advice. But as Meriam says 'who's to know what will happen to me when the sukebind is out in the hedges again and I feel so strange on the long summer evenings?' Flora realises the size of the task ahead of her. Particularly when, during the third week in March, 'Fecund dreams stirred the yearlings. The sukebind was in bud [...] this meant that Micah, Urk, Amos, Caraway, Harkaway, Mizpah, Luke, Mark and four farm-hands who were not related to the family had a good deal of time on their hands in one way and another. Seth, of course, was always busiest in the spring.'

This book is in my top five of all time favourites. It is eye-wateringly hilarious as Gibbons captures English eccentricity and foibles with masterly precision and she also executes the humour through that subtle, dry and nuanced English wit. All the characters are stereotypes - taken from literature, history and I daresay real people. Stella Gibbons pokes fun at our long tradition of rural family sagas in literature and presents us with a perfectly formed romp through an ironic anti-melodrama.

Spring is upon us and if you look carefully in the hedgerows you may just see the sukebind in bud - the long, careless summer evenings will be upon us before we know it. Once the sukebind is in flower, of course.

Beware the sukebind

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold - Book Review

I don't know why it has taken me so long to get around to reading The Lovely Bones. It was on my list of books to read for a long time so I asked my Sister to buy it for my Birthday. I picked it up last week and was immediately gripped.

The novel opens in 1973 with the rape and murder of fourteen year old Susie Salmon and the rest of the novel charts the impact of her death upon her family, friends and local community. We immediately know who her murderer is - the recounting of the event is chilling to read as Susie's narrative voice is both blunt and calm. The real sorrow and emotion develops as Susie watches her family and friends from her Heaven. She remains fourteen and powerless whilst she watches them struggle, grow and change.

Initially, I was concerned only with the capture and prosecution of her killer but as the novel developed my focus gradually weakened and I found myself becoming more concerned with the welfare of the Salmon family. This is Sebold's strength - that her writing leads the reader through the journey that Susie herself is on. But more than this, Sebold ensures that the reader does not just dwell on a desire to jump in and become a vigilante, erasing the novel of the 'baddie' but instead we are placed in Susie's Heaven. We watch her family and our focus on the murder becomes diluted with their struggles, torment, fracture and ultimately their reconciliation.

Her father and his breakdown is fascinating to read - the overwhelming sence of powerlessness that pervades every moment that we read about him is sorrowful. His obsession with her killer is natural and yet the only person who it has an impact upon is him - not the accused.

The reaction of Susie's mother is something which I am still grappling with. In some senses I can understand the desire for release and freedom from a horrific situation but ultimately, she had other children and reality can never truly be left behind. As she eventually found out.

Each character is affected by Susie's death in a unique way - but Sebold captures the relevance of the reaction for each character. Her sister, Lindsey, reacts exactly as a Sister reading the novel can understand. She is forever in shadow and yet frightened that the shadow will one day disappear. Her identity with Susie was entwined in life and in death it becomes even more so.

Sebold manages to write a Heaven that is not an embarrassing cliche - instead it is a slick and succinct device through which Susie Salmon has a voice after death, which is present and immediate. Even when Susie presents herself to members of her family or friends I did not shy away as I may have done if the portrayal had been a romantic one of life after death. In some senses this is a secular Heaven. One in which the protagonist comes of age, matures and is able to enter the new 'wide, wide Heaven' an adult. Susie may have been killed at fourteen but we watch her grow as she observes the people around her and discovers the intricacies of human relationships, sorrow, joy and love for the first time.

I haven't seen the film adaptation and I am not sure if I will see it or not. I rarely find that films based on books are that good - they changed the end of The Painted Veil (a favourite book), Stephen in the film looks nothing like the Stephen in the book of I Capture the Castle and Keira Knightley's Elizabeth Bennett is completely unrecognisable. Have any of you read the book and seen the film of The Lovely Bones - what did you think?

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!

Iris Murdoch: A Writer at War - Book Review

When I was 16 and supposed to be revising for my GCSE's, BBC Radio 4 serialised Iris Murdoch's The Bell. Every Sunday afternoon I would sit down at my desk with a cup of tea, arrange my textbooks in front of me, turn the radio on and sit back entranced. My desk was strategically positioned so that should an unsuspecting member of my family come up the stairs I could quickly bend over my papers and start 'memorising' imporant facts such as how Oxbow lakes are formed (actually I do still remember how they are formed - fascinating, beautiful and I look out for them wherever I go).

This introduction to Iris Murdoch's work came at a time in my life when, like any 16 year old, I was hungry for knowledge, certainty and answers. Suddenly, I wanted to know more - who was this writer? I had never heard of her before so I swiftly demanded that my mother (who has survived two teenage daughters - I don't know how) tell me more. She directed me straight to her bookcase and handed me a copy of The Bell to read. That was it. It started with The Bell and then The Unicorn, then Under the Net, then The Book and the Brotherhood and on it went and on it still goes.

The Bell remains my favourite and is in fact the inspiration for the second part of this blog's name. The first, of course, is a nod to Bloomsbury my favourite area in London and perhaps also to the work of the Bloomsbury Group - particularly Keynes, Forster and Woolf (both Leonard and Virginia) but that is all for another post.

I am the luckiest girl in the world to have been sent a review copy of Iris Murdoch: A Writer at War from Melanie Paget at Short Books. Edited and introduced by Murdoch biographer Peter J Conradi, this collection of letters is absolutely fascinating.

The book opens with extracts from the journal that Murdoch kept when she was part of a travelling dramatic society during the university summer holiday 0f 1939 - when she was 20 years old. This candid yet reflective journal charts the goings on of a group of students during a heady summer with the shadow of a world war casting its uncertainty over them all.

What struck me most about reading this section of the book is how energetic Murdoch was - she threw herself into any challenge, adventure or experience with barely a backward glance which at times made her seem naive in the face of the political situation at the time. The youthful Iris did not share the memories of her elders for whom the first world war took its toll. She is jovial when she recounts the reason why no tickets have been sold for the Northleach show, ".. as we came into the hall we saw one reason - the place was stacked with gas masks. Apparently Northleach is scared stiff & in an appalling state of nerves. [...] they are now in a panic & imagining slaughter and sudden death".

The extracts from her journal show a fun and intelligent young woman who is enjoying herself. Her summer seems idyllic and the reader is swept along with all her boundless joy that she finds in her friendships and experiences.

The middle and last section of the book are the letters that Iris wrote to Frank Thompson between 1940-44 and David Hicks between 1938-46. I couldn't stop reading and re-reading these. Not only do you read a young woman's correspondence to her close male friends during the second world war but you get to dip your toe into her literary mind. She shares with both men her ideas for novels, her ideas about life, about what she is reading and how she is feeling about herself as she questions and ponders upon what to 'do' with her life.

Murdoch exposes in herself that universal uncertainty that people experience in their early to mid-twenties, "Altogether gloom & obscurity prevails about the future. I might try to get some academic job - but that mightn't be too easy & anyway would I make the grade? Heigh ho." At times I want to jump in and tell her not to worry - that all will be well. But, she knows this herself, "Lately various problems have become clear to me - I don't mean the answers - that's too much to expect at 22 (probably at 40 one realises there aren't any answers) - but just the problems themselves."

Her uncertainty and vulnerability are further exposed through her letters to David Hicks - towards the end of their correspondence (once they are engaged) his letters start to dwindle and then cease. Her pleading with him and constant craving for his affection is difficult to read at times - she relinquished power to him and he abused it. Ultimately, he became frightened of her, of her potential, vigour and ambition so he married someone else and Iris flew. He stated as much in his final letter to her "Brain, will and womb, you are formidable".

This book also highlights just how funny Murdoch was - I absolutely love her exclamations and turns of phrase, a favourite was 'Gentle gloom and bloody hell.' Essentially, this book is an interesting read for anyone who wants an enjoyable insight into the workings of the young mind of a brilliant philosopher and author. You don't need to be familiar with her work to appreciate the musings, wit and philosophical ponderings of a budding author in these letters.

I no longer have to memorise facts about Oxbow lakes (which really are fascinating and lovely see here) so I didn't have to read Iris Murdoch: A Writer at War in secret but I did have to re-read it and thumb through the pages like an obsessive. Perhaps I should soothe myself with some light reading on meanders.

Team Whipple

Endpaper for High Wages by Dorothy Whipple, 'Farm Scene', a 1930 dress fabric by Crysede Ltd. Copyright V&A Images

To use Darlene from Roses Over a Cottage Door's phrase, I am a fully-fledged member of Team Whipple. For the one person on Svalbard who does not know to whom I am referring, I will explain. Team Whipple refers to the author Dorothy Whipple who Persephone Books has resurrected and republished after she shockingly fell from favour somewhere between young men who got angry and modernism going postal.

On Christmas Day I jumped out of bed to see if Father Christmas had brought me the one thing, the only thing that I really wanted; the latest Whipple offering from Persephone Books - High Wages. As I rumpaged through my stocking so lovingly put together by my mother, I was after one thing. My fingers reached something smooth and book-like. I pulled out a delightful, grey book with shining endpapers.

The thing is, I couldn't read it straightaway. I had to save it for the perfect moment so I read a couple of other books before settling down on a snowy day with the tabby cat on my lap, a slice of my mum's delicious Christmas cake and, of course, a pot of steaming tea.

Jane Carter is ambitious, resourceful and intelligent. She loves to read, she loves clothes and she loves success. When she enters Mr Chadwick's draper's shop to ask for the job of assistant she sees the chance to escape her stepmother and make a better life for herself. Mr Chadwick hires Jane and very quickly she becomes his best worker. Jane soon befriends Maggie, who also works in the shop, and Maggie's young man Wilfred who works in the library. Wilfred falls in love with Jane as she is interesting and reads, unlike Maggie, and he quietly yearns for her as he knows she does not love him.

Mr Chadwick's business improves with Jane's expertise, he is a wealthy man yet the high society in Tidsley do not accept him into their social circle. He is after all, a shopkeeper. So, when Jane befriends Mrs Briggs the honest wife of a partner in the local cotton business she secures tickets for herself and Mr and Mrs Chadwick to attend the Hospital Ball. The social event of the year oganised by the social queen of Tidsley, Mrs Greenwood.

Mrs Greenwood makes it clear that she disapproves of their attendance and when Jane is assaulted by a young and wealthy man, Mrs Greenwood purposefully implies that Jane is of 'loose' virtue and threatens that she and her daughter, the beautiful Sylvia, will not take their custom to Mr Chadwick's any longer.

Mr Chadwick is beside himself as he respects the social strata and regrets ever trying to ignore it. When Jane tries to defend herself his position is very clear,

""What happened at the ball was no fault of mine, placed as I was. Mrs.
Greenwood has no right to speak like that; she oughtn't to be in a position to
speak like that...'
'Now, Miss Carter said Mr Chadwick, wriggling. 'No
socialistic notions here, please.'"

Despite this incident Jane manages to keep her job and continues to bring good business to Mr Chadwick's. Jane frequently looks outside of her position and sees things that people like Mr Chadwick will never allow themselves. She sees the local eligible bachelor, Noel Yarde and daydreams about him. She watches as he courts Sylvia Greenwood and thinks about what it would be like to move in those social circles. But, after all, she is just a shopgirl.

When Maggie finds out that Jane and Wilfred shared a quick, meaningless kiss she forces Jane to leave Mr Chadwick's. This turns out to be a triumph of fate as she receives a loan from Mrs Briggs to set up her own shop. Jane becomes incredibly successful but more importantly she is an independent businesswoman and Noel Yarde, now married to Sylvia, finally notices her.

As the First World War comes and goes Whipple manages to capture the slow but pervading change that took place in small towns like Tidsley. She examines a moment in British history when social boundaries were shifting, women were emerging from the shadows and shopping would become a whole new experience with the introduction of 'ready to wear'. Clothes are still, to some extent, an indication as to your wealth or social standing. In the early twentieth century they were even more so - they were clear social signifiers. With the introduction of ready made clothing, these clear signals started to wane and the image of the regal, corseted Mrs Greenwood would disappear.

High Wages absolutely lived up to my expectations - Whipple has once again captured the minutiae of everyday life, of the conditions for women and the fact that life does not always go to plan. I like Jane, I easily sympathised with her even when she was so obviously getting it wrong (as we all do). Jane is inspirational - she receives knocks, she is caught in a changing world which is as hard for men as it is for women and she is, to some extent, a slave to fortune. But, through hard work, effort and internal struggle she develops into a competant and liberated young woman.

So - another win for Team Whipple. For the person on Svalbard, Persephone Books deliver. For Whipple-lovers, you won't be disappointed.

The Wedding Group by Elizabeth Taylor - Book Review

Sussex in the snow

I made it down to Sussex after joining the commuters at London Victoria station last Friday night in the battle to get to the south coast through the snow and subsequent delays to the rail services. Waiting at Victoria station for over an hour in the freezing cold made me even more grateful to arrive home to my mother's fully stocked fridge, woodburning stove and library for me to 'borrow' from.

In between the various preparations for Christmas and catching up with friends I managed to read The Wedding Group by Elizabeth Taylor. I hasten to add that this is not the diamonds and multi-husbands Elizabeth Taylor but another one entirely - something that I have only recently discovered. The shame.

The Wedding Group is the first novel by Elizabeth Taylor that I have read and I wasn't blown away by it. The story focuses on Cressy who grew up in an artistic community, Quayne, made up of her family and headed by her Grandfather. Cressy is headstrong and is stifled by life in the community so she is desperate for a means of escape. David, a local young journalist, writes a searing piece about the community and Cressy writes to him with a plea for help. He doesn't respond to her so she turns to their cleaning woman for help. Through her, Cressy gets a job in the local antiques shop, which is run by David's friends, and she eventually moves in to the attic.

David starts taking Cressy out to all the places that she has never been to like service stations and diners. He is enthralled by her enthusiasm and naivety and more importantly so is David's mother, Midge. Midge is the stifling presence within David's life, manipulative and controlling Midge lives vicariously through David. David still lives with Midge as his father left them.

Eventually, Cressy and David get married and it all starts to unravel. Rather than breakaway from Midge they live nearby and Midge takes complete control of domestic affairs which induces Cressy to become lazier and lazier. Cressy falls pregnant, much to David's dismay, and they become even more trapped within Midge's web.

Overriding the 'apron strings' issue is the fact that Cressy is lazy and David spoilt. It seems as if all Cressy's energy went into leaving Quayne only to become trapped in a worse situation. The reader is not surprised when Midge takes over the role of parenting their child, when Cressy becomes fat and David starts having an affair. The whole situation is too depressing for words and frankly it is difficult to have any sympathy for any of the characters - as the reader you want to leap in and give them all a good talking to.

Initially Cressy was the hero as she broke free of the chains of Quayne, but Taylor morphs her into a stupid, lazy and irritating woman who strives for nothing for herself, her husband or her child. David is self-satisfied and self-pitying and Midge is a pathological liar, alcoholic and control freak. Not much going for any of them. Taylor seems to have become confused as to what she wanted the reader to experience. To dislike all the characters is not a problem in itself and quite often can make for an interesting read but the threads become tangled and the characterisation is weak as a result.

It appears that Taylor was trying to write something more than just an exposé on the relationship between mothers and their sons but she doesn't quite manage to do this. Quayne was an interesting strand within the novel which I felt wasn't fully pursued and Cressy's character becomes weaker and weaker towards the end like Taylor got lost with her.

The peripheral characters were not developed thoroughly and I felt frustrated as I tried to piece together their involvement and relevance in the plot. I got a sense that Taylor did not fully jump into what it was she was trying to write - perhaps a lack of direction or even confidence - and this affects the experience for the reader. There are so many interesting themes within the novel, religion, family guilt, addiction, sexual abuse, depression, village life, incest, but none of them are fully developed.

Despite this, it was an enjoyable read from the perspective that it made me think after I had put it down and I am definitely intrigued about Taylor as a writer as she attempts to probe the human condition and peel back the layers of family relationships.

Talking about family relationships, it is Christmas Eve tomorrow so everyone will be descending upon us. I am off to test my relationship with my mother as I go and steal more books off her shelves to keep me going for the (few) quiet moments over the next couple of days (she has masses of Virago's). I hope you all have a lovely Christmas full of good cheer, mulled wine, friends, relations and comfort.

The V&A Book Club

Recently, I set up a book club at work with the help of some colleagues, one of whom you may know as Book Snob. It is very democratic as we all put book suggestions into the hat and we all bring cakes to share around - cake is essential for fuelling literary discussion. Last Wednesdays' choice was Being Dead by John Crace which, although a short book, sparked a lot of lively discussion and I came away with lots of new ideas to think about.

Being Dead is a lyrically written examination of death. The two middle-aged protagonists are murdered in the sand dunes where they first had sex together. They are both scientists, complex characters and die in a horrific way - together. It is this togetherness that is the guiding light within, what would otherwise be, quite a depressing read.

Although, would this be depressing if it weren't for the fact that we are not at peace with death? We cannot handle our own mortality and we tend to move away from confronting our fragility - essentially we are all on our way to the end of our lives. We are powerless over our own deaths as Crace starkly shows us. Crace also highlights the arbitrary nature of death - we never know when our last day will be or how we will die and his character Celice was killed mid-sentence, in full flow and in her prime.

Joseph and Celice are an ordinary married couple going about their lives. Celice is bored and disappointed and she is still trying to find her way through life. Joseph is quiet, a bit odd and loves his wife. He wakes up on his last day with an overwhelming desire to go back to where they first met and romantically rekindle their sexual spark in the location of their first passionate encounter. It is this amalgamation of their ordinariness and their going on a special trip that makes their death, and the manner of their death, more stark as they are cut down in the midst of a sacred and fragile act.

The fragility of their love-making is transposed onto the fragility of their very being - in minutes they are both dead and nature, science and ultimately fact, start to take over, but perhaps it is not as depressing as it may seem. Joseph and Celice are united in death:

Joseph's grasp on Celice's leg had weakened as he'd died. But still his hand was touching her, the grainy pastels of her skin, one fingertip among her baby ankle hairs. Their bodies had expired, but anyone could tell - just look at them - that Joseph and Celice were still devoted. For while his hand was touching her, curved round her shin, the couple seemed to have achieved that peace the world denies, a period of grace, defying even murder.

It is the 'period of grace' which is presented to the reader throughout the novel. Their bodies are not sanitised by our rituals of death such as cleaning, make-up and disinfectant. Instead, Joseph and Celice are allowed, for a time, to blend with nature - to become part of the natural processes of life and death.

The book is at times an uncomfortable read, Crace goes into the detail of decomposing bodies at great length (maybe I just have a weak stomach) but the novel has stayed with me and made me consider my own mortality and how I think about death.

I would never have chosen to read this book had it not been for the V&A Book Club; which is entirely the purpose of a book club - to encourage us to pick up books we wouldn't have done ordinarily. I try to keep my reading horizons broad but, I admit, I do read a lot of early twentieth century literature so the book club has led me down a new reading path and I am looking forward to our meeting next month.

Lady Lazarus

Lady Alexandra Curzon (Baba)

For the past few days I have been bedridden with one of those seasonal viruses which make everything except sleep and watching rubbish telly, impossible. The title of this post alludes to the title of Plath's poem Lady Lazarus but I thought it was fitting as I had been reading so much about the upper classes before I fell ill. Thankfully, I have been well enough to read today and have continued to be gripped by Anne De Courcy's biography of the three Curzon sisters, The Viceroy's Daughters.

Irene, Cimmie and Baba were the three daughters of Viceroy Curzon and were born during a time when the British upper classes were at their ruling zenith. Irene was born in 1896, Cimmie (Cynthia Blanche) was born in 1898 and Baba (Alexandra Naldera) was born in 1904. Their mother Lady Mary was the daughter of an extraordinarily rich American, Levi Ziegler Leiter. Due to Leiter's wealth all three Curzon sisters were heiresses of a vast sum of money.

The biography charts their lives and is a fascinating insight into the lives of the wealthy during the early twentieth century. Cimmie was the first wife of Oswald Mosley, the leader of the British Union of Fascists, and the book delves into both the rise and demise of this murky political party. The lives of the three sisters are set against the backdrop of the wider goings on within society at the time, as much to contextualise their lives as because their lives were entwined with many political leaders of the day.

What startled me was the extent of the bed hopping that occurred between the higher levels of society. They were apparently insatiable in their extra-marital appetites. It seems that as long as no one openly spoke about it, anything went.

This is a fantastic read to transport you to the glamour, glitz and gossip of the first half of the twentieth century and was exactly what I needed to help me recuperate.

Invitation to the Waltz by Rosamond Lehmann

Dancers at The Cafe de Paris in 1932

When we were teenagers, my best friend and I would spend hours excitedly preparing to go out to a party or nightclub. We would spend an entire afternoon in her bedroom going through boxes of make up deciding what to use. Clothes would be tried on, discarded and tried on again as we attempted to find the perfect party ensemble. In a flurry of perfume, hairspray and glitter we would listen to saccharine pop and dream about the perfect boy that we would meet during the perfect evening.

We would arrive at the party with our expectations full to the brim. Bursting with nerves and excitement we would enter the room and search for people we knew. Gradually, people would start dancing and I would slowly fall back down to earth. Tugging at my ill-fitting clothes and looking for a quiet corner I would scan the room and see people pairing off and realise that actually the party in my head was a different place. The best part was sitting in my best friend's utility room eating a bowl of Alpen, dissecting the evening before heading upstairs to a bed that her mum had put a hot water bottle in. I would snuggle down under the duvet and store my dreams for the next time whilst feeling a little bit closer to them coming true.

Invitation to the Waltz tells the story of Olivia Curtis who is invited to attend her first dance at the age of seventeen. Like myself, and all teenage girls, she excitedly plans what she is going to wear and takes the red material that she received for her birthday to the local dressmaker to create something dazzling for the dance. Olivia is a thoughtful girl and unlike her sister Kate is not so comfortable with her appearance. Kate spends time thinking about and planning her appearence with an air of expertise whereas Olivia awkwardly tries her dress on back to front and pours too much perfume on to her hair.

The dance is hosted by the Spencers who are local aristocracy. Lady Spencer's jewels dazzle Olivia as she "was handsomer even than Queen Mary, in the same sculptural style, but of a more classical cast of features. A gown of silver brocade moulded her opulent but well-controlled contours; a parure of diamonds and sapphires set off the imposing architecture of her bosom and a tiara flashed above the severely carved wings of her grey hair". Olivia dances with a succession of old men all playing to her sympathetic nature and between dances she anxiously aims for the safety of the cloakroom unless she is intercepted by another ill-suited partner.

As her sister Kate finds the perfect boy at her perfect dance, Olivia grapples around through the various representatives of masculinity present at the dance. She encounters the poet Peter who is paranoid, drunk and vulnerable. She dances with Tim the young man who was blinded in battle in the first world war and she has an altercation with the roguish, wealthy and arrogant Archie. Finally, Olivia meets Rollo Spencer out on the terrace with whom she feels at ease for the first time during the night. He is honest, charming and, irritatingly, attached to Nicola. Eventually, Olivia falls asleep on a chair as she waits for her sister to finish dancing.

As Olivia is able to recount the entire evening to her mother with youthful and innocent enthusiasm, her sister Kate is detached. Through the establishment of an understanding with Tony Heriot she has left Olivia behind, "I've left it all behind me. She looked at Olivia lying back on the settee, her eyes black and small with sleep. We won't be able to talk over the dance, exchanging every detail for hours and days. I can't share tonight with her. Olivia's too young." The dance is the catalyst for change for both the sisters, their relationship with each other has shifted as Olivia too realises that Kate has gone down a path which Olivia cannot yet follow, "I'm left behind, but I don't care. I've got plenty to think about too."

Lehmann's portrayal of a young girls' first dance pierces to the heart of the experience. The social anxieties, the pressure and the excitement are all enmeshed. Olivia is thrown into a social melting pot between the sexes for the first time and slowly she starts to learn about herself. It is here for the first time that she notices a class difference between herself and her friend Marigold Spencer "The friends she flew to join now were not their friends. They were those who would tread with her the prosperous, mapped road of coming out, whose mysteries and allurements were to be the natural setting of their days and nights." Olivia realises her middle-class status for the first time and what this will mean for her.

This novel is a beautiful and insightful account of a young girl poised on the edge of adulthood - slowly testing herself in the wider world but still able to flee back to the comfort of childhood. As I dipped my toe in to the water of parties and clubbing, I still longed for the bowl of Alpen, my cuddly toy cat and the comfort of a hot water bottle at the end of the night. And it is this aspect of being in between, of waiting, of being ready but of not being ready that Rosamond Lehmann perfectly portrays.

Book Review - Howards End by E.M. Forster

Howards End examines the cultural inheritance of England. Forster was writing at a time when England was changing; the development of urban conurbations, the motorcar and mass production are just a few changes that E.M. Forster observed as having impact upon the English landscape.

My favourite passage within the novel is the following and captures many of the novel's themes:

‘England was alive, throbbing through all her estuaries, crying for joy through the mouths of all her gulls, and the north wind, with contrary motion, blew stronger against her rising seas. What did it mean? For what end are her fair complexities, her changes of soil, her sinuous coast? Does she belong to those who have moulded her and made her feared by other lands, or to those who have added nothing to her power, but have somehow seen her, seen the whole Island at once, lying as a jewel in a silver sea, sailing as a ship of souls, with all the brave world’s fleet accompanying her towards eternity?’

‘Does she belong to those who have moulded her and made her feared by other lands,’ this line clearly portrays businessmen and politicians; the Wilcox’s. Henry Wilcox, is at the forefront of financial power, he seems wholly materialistic and encourages all forms of technology, change and modernity. Henry Wilcox is one who has ‘moulded her’ and this we witness through his disregard for rural traditions. He built a garage ‘to the west of the house, not far from the wych-elm, in what used to be the paddock for the pony.’ This indifference to the preservation of rural England is made more poignant a few chapters later when it transpires that Mrs Wilcox loved the paddock more than she loved the garden. This demonstrates a depressing, prophetic vision of England. One in which we see the paddock, turn into a garage with a motor-car and therefore the rural England with long-established traditions is destroyed by ‘the civilization of mechanical appliances.’

In stark contrast to the Wilcox vision of England as a powerful force for change, there is the vision of an England represented by the house ‘Howards End,’ and people who represent the creative imagination. The Schlegals are in opposition to the Wilcox’s. They have ‘added nothing to her power.’ They belong to the world of culture and sustain England’s intellectual life. The Schlegals have ‘seen the whole Island at one…sailing as a ship of souls,’ in other words they are able to make a connection at an individual level. We clearly see this through Margaret and Helen’s relationship. Through their values they embody and represent the novel's epigraph, ‘only connect.’

Whilst the Schlegals have not added to England’s power, they have enhanced the various visions of England. They have seen ‘the whole Island at once, lying as a jewel in a silver sea.’ The vision of a ‘Jewel in silver sea’ is wealthy imagery. This is the perception of the Schlegals towards England, it has been made wealthy by others and they shall enjoy the vision of its wealth. Margaret states that the Wilcox’s ‘keep England going.’ She acknowledges a connection between the Wilcox’s and the future of England.

The Wilcox’s realities of class, money and power conflict with the Schlegal’s representation of self-realisation through their relationships with each other. Margaret Schlegal in particular is a representative of the humanistic ideal. Helen also embodies this to a certain extent and the foremost example of their humanist tendencies appear in their relationship with the poor Leonard Bast.

Leonard is their project; the liberal Schlegals promote his cultural aspirations and try to connect with him through these. Despite their passion to enable him to come aboard their ‘ship of souls,’ he becomes a theoretical case, ‘Helen at one part of the table, Margaret at the other, would talk of Mr Bast and of no one else, and somewhere about the entrée their monologues collided… and became common property…After the paper came a debate, and in this debate Mr Bast also figured.’ The Schlegals lose their connection with him as a human individual, which is paradoxical as they truly care for people above all else, ‘It is sad to suppose that places may ever be more important than people.’ Margaret’s prophetical statement becomes increasingly poignant as the novel develops. Howards End becomes more important to Margaret than Leonard Bast or even her husband Henry Wilcox.

The Schlegals are half-German which introduces the theory that they do not seek possession and ownership of England as the Wilcox’s do. They are unattached, Helen uses Germany as a refuge when England and the Wilcox’s impose too much power over her. The Schlegals are visionary with regards to England, their discussion groups and interest in ‘causes’ illustrates this. They theorize and connect with each other in order to promote their liberalism and their liberal dream for England.

Howards End starts with a vision of England that centres on Mrs Wilcox. Helen’s letter to Margaret describes this, ‘trail, trail went her long dress over the sopping grass, and she came back with her hands full of the hay that was cut yesterday.’ And further on we hear the narrator state ‘she seemed to belong not to the young people and their motor, but to the house, and to the tree that overshadowed it. One knew that she worshipped the past.’ These images promote England’s rural past and Mrs Wilcox embodies a vision of England that is being eroded by the mechanical, powerful and modern ideals of her husband. Mrs Wilcox’s vision of England is connected to the earth and to her house, therefore her constant walking in the garden and smelling of the hay.

Henry Wilcox’s power conflicts with Mrs Wilcox’s vision of Howards End being left to Margaret. Howards End needs ‘accompanying … towards eternity’ if it is to survive. Referring back to the introduction, Mr Wilcox’s power is threatening its survival and Mrs Wilcox recognizes Margaret as one of the ‘brave world’s fleet’ who will protect the house. The conflict between power and vision leads to a form of unification at the end of the novel. Margaret creates a home for both Henry and Helen, and Mrs Wilcox’s vision is achieved.

Forster portrays a vision of national continuity within the passage, ‘with all the brave world’s fleet accompanying her towards eternity,’ which presents the ideals of harmony. It is a vision untainted by power. Vision and creativity will ‘continue towards eternity’ whilst characters like Margaret are able to mediate with those in power, as Helen points out to her sister ‘but who settled us down? … You!’ The novel ends in a similar way to its opening with Helen's idyllic description of Mrs Wilcox, it promotes a continuation of the pastoral ideal, ‘ “The field’s cut!” Helen cried excitedly – “The big meadow! We’ve seen to the very end, and it’ll be such a crop of hay as never!”’

Book Review - The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge

Last week I wasn't very well - just a seasonal cold but having the sniffles made me long for comfort. I wanted comfort food (fish pie), comfort television (Sense and Sensibility with Kate Winslet and Emma Thompson) and comfort reading. I had my fish pie and watched Sense and Sensibility but I couldn't find suitable reading material until my Mummy rescued me.

Mum gave me a 'red cross' parcel full of goodies and at the bottom I found a copy of The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge and I snuggled into my sofa, under a blanket and started to read.

First published in 1946, The Little White Horse is a wonderful children's novel that tells the story of Maria Merryweather and her adventures when she goes to live at Moonacre Manor. The book opens with Maria Merryweather in a carriage with her governess, Miss Heliotrope and her King Charles Spaniel, Wiggins. Recently orphaned, Maria is on her way to live with her cousin Sir Benjamin Merryweather at Moonacre Manor in the village of Silverydew somewhere in the West Country.

Maria arrives at Moonacre and thinks that it is 'so beautiful that it seemed hardly to be of this world'. She arrives when the grounds are covered in moonlight,

"And for a fleeting instant, at the far end of a glade, she thought she saw a little white horse with flowing mane and tail, head raised, poised, halted in mid-flight, as though it had seen her and was glad."

Miss Heliotrope could not see the little white horse and from this moment on Maria is determined to see the horse again to prove that it is real. Maria settles in to Moonacre Manor, Sir Benjamin is welcoming and loving and she and Miss Heliotrope find that they enjoy living there. Before long, Maria starts to unravel some of the mysteries and she finds out that the sadness that hangs over Silverydew is caused by the Men from the Dark Woods who steal their livestock and terrorize Merryweather Bay.

Every generation a Moon Princess comes to live at Moonacre Manor and it falls to her to defeat the Men from the Dark Woods - whose evil behaviour is the result of a long, long feud between the Merryweathers and the Cocq de Noir family. So far, none of the previous Moon Princesses have succeeded as their own pride got in the way. Maria discovers that to defeat the Men from the Dark Woods she must enlist the help of a pauper whom she loves. Handily, she loves Robin the local shepherd boy and together with help from Wrolf the dog/lion, Periwinkle the pony, Zachariah the cat, Wiggins the spaniel and Old Parson the old parson, they set out to lift the gloom from Silverydew for good.

This is a completely romantic fantasy novel for little girls and is a book I would have adored as a child. As an adult I utterly loved it as reading it is true escapism and you have to suspend all belief in anything remotely plausible to go along with the adventure. It is heavily descriptive and the detailed writing brings Silverydew to life so it is a feast for the imagination. It is a little dated but this adds to the charm of the book - the material is nostalgic and reading this over sixty years after publication the nostalgia is even more prominent. Silverydew is an idyll and Maria learns what none of the other Moon Princesses could learn, to be good and selfless.

The Little White Horse truly is comfort reading at its best; escapsism, fairytales, adventures, romance and good triumphing over bad.