En ganske så stillferdig, men svært så tankevekkende historie om «landsbyidioten» som nekter å evakuere fra hjembyen sin i Finnland under krigen og hans møte med russerne og deretter de tilbakevendende finnene. Nok en bookcrossing-bok, dette, og jeg er glad for at den falt meg i hende.
Stikkord: bookcrossing
Harlequin Valentine – Neil Gaiman & John Bolton
A rather beautiful book, another one that came my way thanks to bookcrossing. Bolton’s illustrations are magnificent and the story is concurrently charming and haunting, just as Commedia dell’arte should be. I will have to keep this copy for a while and enjoy it again before sending it on its way (and also, probably, put it on the wishlist).
In a Glass Darkly – Sheridan Le Fanu
In a Glass Darkly is on the 1001 books list, so I joined a bookring, and finally got around to reading it (sorry for hogging it so long, guys). Uhm. Yes. I suppose it helps if you like ghost stories. I don’t, and this really didn’t do it for me, and I ended up skimming about half before giving up completely. Besides not being a genre I enjoy at the best of times, I found the stories I did read somewhat lacking, leaving the reader too much in the dark (no pun intended). That a lot of the plot twists seem like cliches is hardly Le Fanu’s fault, however.
Still: Not my cup of tea (green or otherwise…)
Stiff – Shane Maloney
«Huh», I thought, upon finding this on the OBCZ-shelf, «I’ve never read an Australian crime novel before. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever read an Australian novel before.» I think I might be wrong on that second count, though. Nevil Shute, possibly? Anyhow, I brought the book home and it happened to be handily available shortly after when I’d finished Perdita.
Stiff is entertaining enough and the basic plot is sound, and fairly original. However, there’s not much local colour to be getting on with, to my mind the story might as well have been set in Britain or the States. Also, and worse, the subplots and characterisations are pretty much what you’d get if there was such a thing as an «off the peg crime story character shop». Especially the near-divorce, down-at-heel characteristics of the hero made me feel that I’ve read it all before, which is a pity.
So I won’t go out of my way to find another Murray Whelan mystery. But I won’t run in the opposite direction if I see one, either, so it’s not all bad.
Perdita: The Life of Mary Robinson – Paula Byrne
What? An entry with a single book? Since when is that something I do?
Oh, right, I used to do that all the time. Well. Enjoy it while it lasts…
Perdita: The Life of Mary Robinson by Paula Byrne arrived in my mailbox a while back as a rabck. The previous journallers for this copy suggest that I should probably get around to reading Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire by Amanda Foreman which is hanging around on my shelves somewhere, and I will, I will, but I thought – also from the comments – that I might as well read Perdita first, leaving the better book for desert, so to say.
In fact, I might as well not write much about Perdita, the first journaller says it all:
Mary Robinson was, without doubt, an extremely interesting and colourful figure, but this book fails to do justice to her story. The author flags up forthcoming information, continually repeats herself and includes so many quotes that the reader loses the plot altogether.
Well. I didn’t mind the quotations so much, but I got rather fed up with the incessant «more of that later»s and the endless repetitions. The most jarring repetitions were the tidbits of biography concerning peripheral characters. Whether you should even need to point out that the Duke of York is the Prince of Wales’ brother is a moot point (honestly, would you read a biography like this and not know that?), but when the information is repeated a few pages later – though now also mentioning the younger two – I simply feel condescended to. * As for the «more of that later»s the most annoying manifestation is I’m sure Byrne said she’d be telling us how Mary met Coleridge at some point, but she never did (or did I blink and miss it?). Not majorly important, and I may have dreamed that single foretelling, but still, it vexed me.
What actually really bothers me, though, is the book’s title. Let me quote a passage from Byrne herself:
The book’s [Mary Robinson’s Memoirs] frequent bouts of self-exculpation, together with its overwrought sentimental style and the unfortunate fact that it breaks off long before she began her career as a serious author, have damaged Robinson’s reputation, encouraging romantic novelists of later years to portray her as ‘Perdita’ the royal mistress rather than ‘Mrs Robinson’ the distinguished writer. As late as 1994, the Memoirs was republished under the title Perdita. (p 383)
Uhm. Yeah. Ok. I know. The publishers insisted, and even biographers must make a living somehow. In that case, perhaps a judicious edit or two – or a comment on your own choice of title would have been appropriate?
A flawed book, then. But on the whole, also an enjoyable book. I knew next to nothing about Mary Robinson, despite the abundance of women’s lit. courses I’ve suffered though, and I enjoyed getting to know her. I will certainly make sure I read one of her novels, at the very least. I suspect I have one or other of them, bundled into a Penguin classic with Maria Edgeworth or someone of the kind. I might even read Byrne’s Jane Austen and the Theatre (listed under «Also by Paula Byrne» at the beginning of the book) at some point, just because I tend to read books about Jane Austen (mind you, it’s been a while, too many books, too little time). But I won’t be in a hurry on that last one.
__________
* (A footnote! Don’t you just love footnotes?)
I was going to use John Taylor as another example of the repetition of biographical tidbits, as I’m sure Byrne manages to mention him being an oculist-gone-publisher at least ten times throughout the book. However, being lazy, and not remembering the first name, I thought I’d simply search wikipedia for «Taylor oculist». Ahem. Not that wikipedia is the be-all-and-end-all of knowledge, but there seems to be something fishy going on here and I’m going to have to look into it further (as that’s the kind of getting-totally-stuck-on-pretty-unimportant-details kind of person I am). Anyway. Wikipedia has John Taylor (oculist) listed as dying in 1772, when Mary was 15 (or thereabouts, see postscript in Byrne), and Byrne has John Taylor being one of Mary’s closest friends in 1794. Obviously not the same John Taylor. Wikipedia has another John Taylor who is billed as a British publisher, but he would have been 13 in 1794, a tad too young to be a confidante for a Mary in her late thirties. I will investigate further and get back to you.
None of this changes the tediousness of the repetition, of course.
Inkheart – Cornelia Funke
Another bookcrossing goodie arrived in my mailbox this week, and caused another pause in the book I’m supposed to be reading. Inkheart by Cornelia Funke is pretty much just what a good book ought to be, it draws you in and keeps you interested enough to make putting it down difficult (towards the end, well nigh impossible). And, of course, it’s an adventure involving books and reading. Could it get any better?
According to Queeney
According to Queeney by Beryl Bainbridge is another sales find (yay! booksales!), a fictionalised «biography» of Samuel Johnson’s last 20 years, especially focusing on his relationship with the Thrales, and his infatuation with Mrs Thrale. The writer of the amazon synopsis labours under the misapprehension that Queeney – daughter of Mr and Mrs Thrale – is the narrator of the book, which is blatant nonsense. The narration is certainly centered around her, as she is present at a majority of the events described, but it is in the third person and we also get insights into things she could not possibly have seen or known. However, each section of the book is prefaced, so to say, by a letter written by Queeney some years after Johnson’s death, in response to promptings by one of his biographers. From these we learn that her memories are not pleasant to her, and this colours our interpretation of the rest of the narrative.
I notice that the reviewers have found the book filled with «humour and wit» and such like, I can’t say I saw that, it certainly didn’t make me laugh out loud, though I did, perhaps, smile occasionally. In any case it is a fascinating portrait of a fascinating man (not the least fascinating thing about him being the influence he excerted over his friends and acquaintances).
A Wrinkle in Time
Another bookcrossing rabck, A Wrinkle in Time made it smile when it arrived in my mailbox and it made me smile again as I read it (except just at the end when it made me tear up – I’m a stickler for sentimental endings). I’ve been hearing Madeleine L’Engle’s name mentioned in discussions also involving such books as The Chronicles of Narnia for years, and so I was rather curious to find out what mettle she was made of. And I can tell you it’s very good mettle indeed. The plot and characters are engaging, the language and the concepts used or invented complex enough to make it interesting reading for adults while not so difficult that a 10-year-old wouldn’t be able to handle it.
A Woman of Independent Means – Elizabeth Forsythe Hailey
I got A Woman of Independent Means by request from xtra. I have no idea where I’ve heard of the book and why I thought I wanted to read it, but no matter. It was very pleasant 🙂 Bess Steed Garner inherits enough money from her mother to make her a «woman of independent means», which gives her more freedom than the average woman at the beginning of the 20th century. Through Bess’ own letters we follow her through from her early childhood to her death in 1977. Bess is a thoroughly beliavable woman, both exasperating and annoying and lovable at the same time.