The Sundial

The Sundial

by Shirley Jackson

Blurb:

Before there was Hill House, there was the Halloran mansion of Jackson’s stunningly creepy fourth novel, The Sundial. Aunt Fanny has always been somewhat peculiar. When the Halloran clan gathers at the family home for a funeral, no one is surprised when she wanders off into the secret garden. But then Aunt Fanny returns to report an astonishing vision of an apocalypse from which only the Hallorans and their hangers-on will be spared, and the family finds itself engulfed in growing madness, fear, and violence as they prepare for a terrible new world. For Aunt Fanny's long-dead father has given her the precise date of the final cataclysm!

My Reaction:

Hm.  I think there's a reason this is one of Jackson's "forgotten" novels.  

I started reading this one on the Kindle, but after a while, it was obvious that I was having trouble making progress with it, so I switched to audio format.  That helped me finish it, but didn't really make me like it all that much more.  

When you start reading a "lesser-known" novel by a famous author, it can be difficult to come to it with a completely open mind.  After all, it's a pretty safe bet that it's not going to be a huge crowd-pleaser, else it wouldn't be lesser-known.  Sometimes you may be pleasantly surprised, but in this case, maybe not.  There are some amusing and creepy moments, but I had a feeling early on that the end would be disappointing, and I can't say that I was wrong.  I just feel like shrugging, unfortunately.  

I'm not sure if I'll ever bother with the remaining of the "lesser-knowns" that I've yet to read.  Revisiting one of the stronger novels might be a better bet, if the mood strikes me.

Jeeves in the Offing

Jeeves in the Offing

by P.G. Wodehouse

Blurb:

Jeeves is on holiday in Herne Bay, and while he’s away the world caves in on Bertie Wooster. For a start, he’s astonished to read in The Times of his engagement to the mercurial Bobbie Wickham. Then at Brinkley Court, his Aunt Dahlia’s establishment, he finds his awful former head master in attendance ready to award the prizes at Market Snodsbury Grammar School.

And finally the Brinkley butler turns out for reasons of his own to be Bertie’s nemesis in disguise, the brain surgeon Sir Roderick Glossop. With all occasions informing against him, Bertie has to hightail it to Herne Bay to liberate Jeeves from his shrimping net. And after that, the fun really starts.

My Reaction:

It's been a while since we finished this one, and it's already beginning to dim in my memory... I'm sure we'd read this before (partly because we own a nice, hardback copy that we bought ourselves), but all these books tend to run together in my mind.  

From what I remember, this was a good one, but not one of the very best, since Jeeves is away for much of the book. Still, a fun read!

(Shared read with Donald, as usual for Wodehouse.)

Irene Iddesleigh

Irene Iddesleigh

by Amanda McKittrick Ros

Blurb:

When I went looking for a blurb for this book, I found instead the description on Wikipedia, which described it as "a romantic drama novel. ...  Its publication in 1897 was financed by Ros's husband as a gift on their tenth wedding anniversary.  The plot centers around the complicated love life of a Canterbury lady named Irene.  It is widely considered one of the worst books of all time and has been panned by critics for its use of purple prose and poorly-constructed plot."  I  think that's about as much of a blurb as this one deserves!

My Reaction:

I read this with Donald for the 372 Pages We'll Never Get Back book club podcast.  We'd never have read this, otherwise.  I'd never heard of it before this, either, despite its apparent infamy.  

I rarely read anything other than fairly "fluffy" books for fun, these days, but when I was younger and spent more time reading, I actually enjoyed "classics" and read them recreationally.  I don't have trouble understanding old-fashioned writing, for the most part, but the intros ("fortune cookies", to fellow 372 listeners) to some of these chapters were... Phew.  

Well, to be relatively brief, Irene Iddesleigh definitely deserves its reputation as a very poorly-written book.  However, once you've marvelled over the bizarre, sometimes impenetrable writing style for a few chapters, you start to wonder if it's worth it... Is this all there is to it?  Fortunately, there are some entertaining plot developments a bit further on, to save the day, and the book isn't long enough to have much of a chance to drag.  There are laugh-out-loud moments, but to avoid spoilers, I'll just say that we enjoyed the unintentional humor.  (The podcast makes it fun, too.)  

After we finished this novel, we noticed that the author's self-published volumes of poetry were available to us for free (via Prime Unlimited), so we skimmed some of it, and wow, is it bad!  If you have the chance to read her poetry for free, it's worth a chuckle or two.  (I wouldn't spend a dime on it, though!)

I feel certain that this author wasn't a very pleasant person, in many ways.  For instance, she's strangely insistent that her "hero" is a great man, despite all evidence to the contrary.  Annoying!  And then there's her poetry, which paints even more vividly the picture of a vicious personality.  It's amusing that someone who saw fit to censor herself (dashes instead of the word "hell", for instance) was also wishing that some people's buttocks would be whipped with hooks.  If you self-righteously chortle over the idea that So-and-So (some lawyer who angered you) is surely suffering eternal damnation in the fiery pits of Hell, I don't imagine God cares much whether or not you write out the actual word. Somehow, I don't think God is smiling approvingly, so why bother with the falsely conscientious, "Oh, no, I would never curse!  Heavens to Betsy!  How crass!"  (Still, I can't deny I laughed at her over-the-top, bilious hatred of the lawyers of her acquaintance!)

Bitesized Audio Classics

Bitesized Audio Classics
Read by Simon Stanhope

This is a bit of a different kind of review for me.  The subject is not a book or a traditionally produced audiobook, but a YouTube channel.  

If you like English mystery, ghost, and suspense short stories from the Victorian and Edwardian eras-- and the audiobook format-- you may enjoy Bitesized Audio Classics.  I happened to stumble upon one of the stories and have since listened to a few more and subscribed to the channel for future listening. (I like them for easy listening while doing a diamond painting!)

These short stories are selected and narrated by UK-based actor and voice artist Simon Stanhope, and they have the same sound quality and professional polish as traditional audiobooks.  The stories are all in the public domain, but while some will likely be familiar to fans of the genre, others were new to me.  

Definitely worth a listen!

Sleeping Murder

Sleeping Murder
by Agatha Christie

Blurb:

In Agatha Christie’s classic, Sleeping Murder, the indomitable Miss Marple turns ghost hunter and uncovers shocking evidence of a perfect crime.

Soon after Gwenda moved into her new home, odd things started to happen. Despite her best efforts to modernize the house, she only succeeded in dredging up its past. Worse, she felt an irrational sense of terror every time she climbed the stairs.

In fear, Gwenda turned to Miss Marple to exorcise her ghosts. Between them, they were to solve a “perfect” crime committed many years before.

My Reaction:
I'm a big fan of Agatha Christie's work on TV and film (though some adaptations are better than others).  However, I haven't read many of her novels (maybe three others, besides this one), and I thought I'd try to remedy that, especially since some of the adaptations take great liberties with the original material. That combined with my Swiss cheese memory might make some of the mysteries feel almost new to me.  

I've seen one or two TV adaptations of this novel before, and at least one of them must have made an impression, because I remembered the identity of the murderer very early in the book.  It's not quite as entertaining to read a murder mystery when you already know who the murderer is, as well as most of the key points of how s/he did it and tried to cover it up.  It was still fine, but I did lose my motivation to read quickly.  

This is a great whodunit, especially if you don't go in already knowing the answer!  

Three Men in a Boat

Three Men in a Boat: To Say Nothing of the Dog
by Jerome K. Jerome


Blurb:

Martyrs to hypochondria and general seediness, J. and his friends George and Harris decide that a jaunt up the Thames would suit them to a ‘T’. But when they set off, they can hardly predict the troubles that lie ahead with tow-ropes, unreliable weather forecasts and tins of pineapple chunks—not to mention the devastation left in the wake of J.’s small fox-terrier Montmorency.

Three Men in a Boat was an instant success when it appeared in 1889, and, with its benign escapism, authorial discursions and wonderful evocation of the late-Victorian ‘clerking classes’, it hilariously captured the spirit of its age.

My Reaction:
(This was a shared re-read-aloud with Donald.)

This is either the second or the third time I've read Three Men in a Boat, but though I remembered thinking it was hilarious, I didn't recall any specific details of the "adventure".  This time around, I was surprised by the unevenness of the book.

Jerome K. Jerome (at least in my acquaintance with his works) has a tendency to go off on tangents.  Sometimes these tangents are highly amusing.  (It's amazing how consistent human nature is over the centuries!)  Other times, the tangent is poetic or historical or "travel-guide-esque" and of less interest to the casual reader-- and there's one section in particular that seems completely out of place with the rest of the book.  (It's not too far from the end, and I think you'll recognize it when you see it.)

Fortunately, in this instance, the amusing bits outweigh the dull paragraphs, so I can still recommend it-- and its sequel Three Men on the Bummel (which, as I recall, is not as good as TMiaB, but still an interesting read).  However, because of those dull passages that kept cropping up, I think I'll have to give this four-and-a-half out of five stars.

The Turn of the Screw

The Turn of the Screw
by Henry James

Blurb:

A very young woman's first job: governess for two weirdly beautiful, strangely distant, oddly silent children, Miles and Flora, at a forlorn estate... An estate haunted by a beckoning evil. 

Half-seen figures who glare from dark towers and dusty windows-- silent, foul phantoms who, day by day, night by night, come closer, ever closer. With growing horror, the helpless governess realizes the fiendish creatures want the children, seeking to corrupt their bodies, possess their minds, own their souls... 

But worse-- much worse-- the governess discovers that Miles and Flora have no terror of the lurking evil.

For they want the walking dead as badly as the dead want them.

My Reaction:
Reading reviews for Peter Straub's Ghost Story, I saw repeated references to The Turn of the Screw, which reminded me that I'd never read it, so I decided to finally read the (classic) novella.  (Having now read it, I can easily see why other readers said Straub borrowed heavily from Henry James.  Yes, he really, really did!)

After a few moments of déjà vu, I soon realized that I must have watched a film adaptation, at some point, but I'd forgotten more than I remembered of the story-- and this was certainly my first time reading it.

And now, having read it, I wish I could say that I'd enjoyed it very much, but honesty compels me to admit that I found much of it a terrible slog.  The plot was interesting-- though so subtle in some key points that I suspect many modern readers, unfamiliar with some of the coded hints, might not understand just how awful the villains are/were-- but all too often the story is buried under a heavy, suffocating layer of convoluted prose.  There are a few sentences that require careful parsing to even understand!  Admittedly, I don't read many "classics" these days, so maybe part of the problem is that I'm out of practice with more serious literature.  However, I read classics for fun in middle school, so I do think that some of it comes down to peculiarities of James' own style, which apparently isn't to my liking.

This will not be on my list of favorites-- not one I'll re-read or recommend willy-nilly-- but I still am glad I've finally read it.  Certain moments and aspects of it are powerful.

Elizabeth and Her German Garden

Elizabeth and Her German Garden
by Elizabeth von Arnim

Blurb:

"Elizabeth and Her German Garden," a novel by Elizabeth von Arnim, was popular and frequently reprinted during the early years of the 20th century. "Elizabeth and Her German Garden" is a year's diary written by Elizabeth about her experiences learning gardening and interacting with her friends. It includes commentary on the beauty of nature and on society, but is primarily humorous due to Elizabeth's frequent mistakes and her idiosyncratic outlook on life. The story is full of sweet, endearing moments. Elizabeth was an avid reader and has interesting comments on where certain authors are best read; she tells charming stories of her children and has a sometimes sharp sense of humor in regards to the people who will come and disrupt her solitary lifestyle.

My Reaction:
I wanted to read this book because I remembered L.M. Montgomery mentioning it in her journals.  The entry I remembered (see the section below for more specifics) and the title itself led me to expect something focused on gardening.  While gardens-- flowers, specifically-- are important to "Elizabeth" (probably both the author and her character), the book has less to do with gardening than with humor.  I wouldn't say that's a bad thing.

I'd recommend this to other readers who are fond of gardens, turn-of-the-century settings, and humorous commentary on human nature.  It helps if you are also an introvert or have sympathy with the type of person who enjoys solitude. (If not, you'll probably be exasperated, at some point.)


Specifics (Mostly Quotes):
--  From The Selected Journals of L.M. Montgomery, Volume 1: 1889-1910:  "I brought home a library book the other night-- "Elizabeth and her German Garden"-- taking it as Hobson's choice because I couldn't get anything else.  I didn't know anything about it, didn't think it was worth much, and made no haste to read it.  Finally last Thursday I began it.  Before I had read a chapter I was ready to kick myself for no having found out what it was before.  It was delightful-- the whole book.  My "twin soul" must live in Elizabeth-- at least, as far as gardening is concerned.  She has said a hundred thing that I always meant to say when I had thought them out sufficiently.  I shan't have to say them now-- Elizabeth has done it so well."

--  The book starts off a bit strangely, I think, and when Elizabeth's husband first appears-- and is called by his nickname, "the Man of Wrath"-- you begin to wonder what kind of book it will be... But despite the name and some of the things he says (at least partially in jest, one hopes), he never seems particularly wrathful.

--  "The passion for being for ever with one's fellows, and the fear of being left for a few hours alone, is to me wholly incomprehensible."

--  The mentions of "kindred spirits" are of course interesting, given the L.M. Montgomery/"Anne" connection.  "I long more and more for a kindred spirit-- it seems so greedy to have so much loveliness to oneself-- but kindred spirits are so very, very rare; I might almost as well cry for the moon."

-- "She had found a kindred spirit, and it has been ruthlessly torn from her arms as kindred spirits so often are."

--  "I have been much afflicted again lately by visitors-- not stray callers to be got rid of after a due administration of tea and things you are sorry afterwards that you said, but people staying in the house and not to be got rid of at all."

--  "It is so sweet to be sad when one has nothing to be sad about."

-- "Humility, and the most patient perseverance, seem almost as necessary in gardening as rain and sunshine, and every failure must be used as a stepping-stone to something better."

--  "I had an awful reverence for my grandfather.  He never petted, and he often frowned, and such people are generally reverenced.  Besides, he was a just man, everybody said; a just man who might have been a great man if he had chosen, and risen to almost any pinnacle of worldly glory.  That he had not so chosen was held to be a convincing proof of his greatness; for he was plainly too great to be great in the vulgar sense, and shrouded himself in the dignity of privacy and potentialities.  This, at least, as time passed and he still did nothing, was the belief of the simple people around.  People must believe in somebody, and having pinned their faith on my grandfather in the promising years that lie around thirty, it was more convenient to let it remain there."

--  "'What nonsense it is to talk about the equality of the sexes when the women have the babies!'  'Quite so, my dear,' replied the Man of Wrath, smiling condescendingly. 'You have got to the very root of the matter.  Nature, while imposing this agreeable duty on the woman, weakens her and disables her for any serious competition with man.  How can a person who is constantly losing a year of the best part of her life compete with a young man who never loses any time at all?  He has the brute force, and his last word on any subject could always be his fist.'"

--  "I have taken care in choosing my yellow plants to put down only those humble ones that are easily pleased and grateful for little, for my soil is by no means all that it might be, and to most plants the climate is rather trying.  I feel really grateful to any flower that is sturdy and willing enough to flourish here."

--  Elizabeth and her friend Irais can be "mean" at times.  They're not always understanding of the difficulties of others-- not quite conscious, perhaps, of the benefits they enjoy.  By the end, I've forgiven them.

--  "If your lot makes you cry and be wretched, get rid of it and take another; strike out for yourself; don't listen to the shrieks of your relations, to their gibes or their entreaties; don't let your own microscopic set prescribe your goings-out and comings-in; don't be afraid of public opinion in the shape of the neighbor in the next house, when all the world is before you new and shining, and everything is possible, if you will only be energetic and independent and seize opportunity by the scruff of the neck."

--  "Women are responsible for such lies, because they believe them.  Their amazing vanity makes them swallow flattery so gross that it is an insult, and men will always be ready to tell the precise number of lies that a woman is ready to listen to.  Who indulges more recklessly in glowing exaggerations than the lover who hopes, and has not yet obtained?  He will, like the nightingale, sing with unceasing modulations, display all his talent, untiringly repeat his sweetest notes, until he has what he wants, when his song, like the nightingale's, immediately ceases, never again to be heard."

--  "...Let me warn you that, as things now are, only strong-minded women wish to see you the equals of men, and the strong-minded are invariably plain.  The pretty ones would rather see men as their slaves than their equals."

--  Elizabeth considers that Minora's nose isn't bad-- might even be pretty-- "but she does not know how to carry it, and there is an art in the angle at which one's nose is held just as in everything else, and really noses were intended for something besides mere blowing."  Reminds me of Anne's vanity over the niceness of her nose...  Sadly, I'm not particularly fond of my own nose.  It's alright, but nothing to brag about, I'm afraid.  I wonder what is the right, artful angle for holding the nose?  I'd say tilted back-- but I'm afraid of looking snooty or giving too much a view up the nostrils.

--  "The nightingales in the forests about here all sing the same tune, and in the same key of E flat."  ...Is there a difference from place to place?  I know very little of nightingales.

--  Minora's eyes:  "...They are large eyes with long dark eyelashes, and far be it from me to deny that each eye taken by itself is fine, but they are put in all wrong."

--  The bit about washing laundry only four times a year was amusing-- and familiar.  I wonder where else I've heard the suggestion that doing laundry too frequently indicates that you are poor/don't own a substantial a stock of household linens...

--  Elizabeth writes that she has spent much of her pin money on "artificial manure".  "The Man of Wrath says he never met a young woman who spent her money that way before; I remarked that it must be nice to have an original wife; and he retorted that the word original hardly described me, and that the word eccentric was the one required."

-- Irais writes that she is beset by house guests:  "My husband goes off after breakfast to look at his crops, he says, and I am left at their mercy.  I wish I had crops to go and look at-- I should be grateful even for one, and would look at it from morning till night, and quite stare it out of countenance, sooner than stay at home and have the truth told me by enigmatic aunts."

--  "It makes one very humble to see oneself surrounded by such a wealth of beauty and perfection anonymously lavished, and to think of the infinite meanness of our own grudging charities, and how displeased we are if they are not promptly and properly appreciated.  I do sincerely trust that the benediction that is always awaiting me in my garden may by degrees be more deserved, and that I may grow in grace, and patience, and cheerfulness, just like the happy flowers I so much love."

Pat of Silver Bush

Pat of Silver Bush
by L.M. Montgomery

Publisher's Blurb:

Patricia Gardiner loved Silver Bush more than anything else in the world. She was born and raised in the beautiful old-fashioned house on Prince Edward Island, "where things always seemed the same" and good things never changed. But things do change at Silver Bush--from her first day at school to the arrival of her new own first romance. Through it all, Pat shares her experiences with her beloved friends and discovers the one thing that truly never changes: the beauty and peace she will always find at Silver Bush--the house that remembers her whole life.

My Reaction:
It's been years since my last re-read of Pat of Silver Bush.  (I'm not sure when that was, exactly...)  I clearly remembered certain episodes and aspects of the book, but others had grown dim.  As for the book as a whole... I think I sympathize less with Pat now than I did as a teenager.  Her obsession with Silver Bush and the intensity of her hatred of all change-- always a bit strange-- seemed even stranger on this read-through.  The book still holds a place in my heart-- particularly Jingle/Hilary and McGinty and Judy-- but it's not quite the same...

I'd still recommend it, but only after the Anne and Emily series.   If you love those, Pat is worth reading-- but if not, I doubt Pat will be to your liking, either.


Specific Reactions (with LOTS of SPOILERS):
--  This was published in 1933.

--  "'The girls in school are nice but I don't love any of them.  I don't want to love any one or anything but my own family and Silver Bush.'"  To say that Pat is insular doesn't put it strongly enough.  That level of desire for isolation feels strange in a child, imho.  I understand shyness-- but such a young person not wanting to "love any one or anything" but your own family and family home... It's just weird!  I can understand older characters being sad about the passage of time and some of the less pleasant changes that time brings-- but it feels wrong for a child to be afraid of "happy" changes, like the marriage of an aunt or the impending arrival of a baby. 

--  Pat and Jingle "build a bridge of stones" over Jordan (a brook) for ease of crossing.  It can't have taken them long, because they've just had lunch (if I remember correctly) and afterward still have time for "an afternoon of prowling and rambling"-- and yet it's still standing ten years later!  (Unless they rebuilt it, at some point...)  Anyway, I've always wondered how one goes about building a bridge of that sort-- and what the bridge would have looked like.  Admittedly, I don't know much about engineering, but it seems tricky.  Two kids building a sturdy little footbridge is amazing.

--  Though his early obsession with houses is perhaps a bit too precocious, Jingle/Hilary is one of Montgomery's best, most loveable heroes (not that that's saying much).  ...Which makes it all the more frustrating that Pat suffers the typical, stubborn blindness where he's concerned. 

--  "'Uncle Lawrence doesn't mind McGinty but he laughs at him and McGinty can't bear to be laughed at.'  'Dog's don't,' said Pat knowingly, out of her extensive acquaintance of three dogs."  ...Well, I've never noticed dogs not liking to be laughed at, in general... Maybe if you laugh particularly rudely or cruelly, the smarter dogs might notice, but just a friendly laugh at their antics?  They're more likely to get excited and happy than to seem hurt.  (And I've known more than three dogs, so I'm an expert.)

--  I don't care for Sid (including his name).

--  "Judy began to talk of getting ready to hook a big crumb-cloth for the dining room, a bigger one than Aunt Judith's of which she was so proud."  Sounds like a crumb-cloth is just a rug that goes under the table.  I wish we had pictures of some of the things mentioned in these old books... Judy's rugs, for instance...

--  The ethereal quality of Pat's nearly-always-absent Mother has been discussed-- but it's still striking.  Pat is the only of Montgomery's "big 3" heroines to not be an orphan.  Both parents are living-- and they are present in the book-- but I so much prefer Judy to Pat's mother that it comes as a shock when some Great Tragedy sends Pat running home from school:  "Oh, to get home to mother... mother now, not Judy.  Judy did for little griefs but for this, only mother..."  ...It's just that Judy feels more like Pat's mother than her mother does!

-- On that topic... I know some people hate Judy's bizarre dialect, but I actually love it.  It may not be remotely realistic, but I can hear her in my head when I read-- I'm even coming to be comfortable with the the "oh, oh"-- and... she's cozy.

--  When Pat comes home from a visit and discovers that her father has shaved off his moustache, he has to promise to let it grow back before she'll stop crying.  Eventually she gets used to his new look and doesn't hold him to the promise, but that's still simply ridiculous.  What a terribly spoiled child!

--  A cat falls down the well.  He survives and is rescued-- but Judy says they'll have to drag water from Jordan (the nearby stream) until they can have the well cleaned.  Which leads me to wonder a couple of things.  First, how does one clean a well?  Second, would brook water really be safer than water from a well that a cat merely fell into?  It's not like the cat was dead in the well.... Just wondering.

--  At one point, Pat's mother waits for word from Mr. Gardiner regarding his decision to either move the family out west or stay where they are.  She clearly wants very much to stay on P.E.I., but intends to follow her husband's decision-- whatever it might be-- without demur.  The situation reminded me of Mrs. Ingalls and the girls following Pa out further and further onto the unpopulated prairies.  Ma would rather have stayed closer to home and family, I'm sure, but she went wherever Pa wanted, because he was the Head of the Family.  Talk about different times!  I'm fairly traditional, but I'm glad there's more a of a partnership, these days.  I want to have some say in where I live.  Shockingly modern.  ;o)

--  "Jingle was always on the lookout for windows.  They had a peculiar fascination for him.  He averred that the windows of a house made or marred it."   Well, windows are the eyes of a house-- and the eyes are the windows to the soul-- so obviously they're vital to the expression and attitude of a building.

--  "Mr. Gordon Keys at the bridge keeps his wife in order by crocheting lace whenever she won't do as he says.  She hates to see him do it and so she gives in."  ...Have to agree with the wife on that one...  Sorry, male crocheters of lace!

-- "'I'm clane missing me guess if he don't be in Parliamint be the time he's a bit bald.  Ye're not nading inny great intilligence for that.'"  So true. 

--  Judy and Pat discuss what Pat remembers of "the Great War"-- and at the end of the conversation, Judy says "it's all over now, and I'm hoping the world will have more sinse than iver to get in a mess like the same agin, more be token that the women can be voting"--  because of course LMM didn't know in 1933 that WWII was less than a decade away...  The conversation made me wonder what age Pat and Hilary would be at the beginning and end of WWII.  Pat was 5 when the armistice was signed (1918), so that would make her about 26 in 1939 and 32 in 1945.  Hilary is two years older than Pat, so he'd be 28 and 34...

--  "'They don't call them billets-doux now, Judy,' she said, gravely.  'They call them mash notes.'  'They would that.  The uglier the better nowadays.'"  Amen to that.  Only, can you imagine what poor Judy (or my own great-grandmother) would've thought of "sexting" and the like?  ...Probably best not to imagine!

--  By the time I was the age Pat is when Bets dies (not sure of the exact number), I don't think I had a "best friend" anymore.  Certainly not a friend as close as that.  It would've shaken and pained me to lose any of my high school friends, but I wouldn't have been so utterly devastated, because we simply weren't that close...  My best-friendships with other girls were mostly an elementary-school thing, fading during the middle-school years.  Is that a sign of changing times or more just a difference in personality and circumstance?

--  "'As for me poor Lester, they tell me he's rale down-hearted now that his temper fit do be over.  I'm afraid it's ye that do be the deluthering cratur, Patsy.  He did be thinking ye were rale fond av him.'"  I can usually understand Judy perfectly, but "deluthering" has me stumped!

--  There's a reference to "Victorian monstrosities with towers and cupolas"-- and we learn that young Pat hates bay windows.  Hmph.  I like bay windows-- and I would be so excited to live in a Victorian monstrosity with a tower and cupola! 

-- "Children ran about the grounds like small roses."  ...Okay...  Odd turn of phrase!

--  Some of the things those elderly "uncles" and "cousins" (not really relatives) say to Pat!  It's bad enough when her elderly great-great aunts criticize her looks to her face, when she's a child-- but Pat's eighteen by the end of the book, and these old men are still vocally appraising her beauty or lack thereof-- or saying they'll "take her if she liked".  Yuck.  Talk of dirty old men!

-- I love the beautiful descriptions of the landscape and home life.  Though there are charming descriptions of all seasons in this book, Pat and "her" books always feel like autumn to me-- and seeing as autumn is my very, very favorite, that's a compliment.  ;o) 

--  I don't think I'll be reading Mistress Pat soon.  I remember that it's much darker than Pat of Silver Bush-- and that's dark enough!

The Picture of Dorian Gray

The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde

(An Edited) Publisher's Blurb:

Celebrated novel traces the moral degeneration of a handsome young Londoner from an innocent fop into a cruel and reckless pursuer of pleasure... As Dorian Gray sinks into depravity, his body retains perfect youth and vigor while his recently painted portrait reflects the ravages of crime and sensuality.

 (I edited the blurb because part of it gave away a critical plot development.  Perhaps the publisher thinks that with such a famous story, there can be no spoilers, but I disagree.)



My Reaction:
I decided to read this on a whim.  It was a "classic" I'd never heard much about, apart from the obviously most well-known aspect of the portrait that ages in the main character's stead.  I believe I saw it listed as horror, which is what excited my curiosity, since I'd never seen it described as such.  Now that I've read it, I'd say that labeling it as horror may be going a bit too far, even by "classics" standards.  There are certainly horrible happenings, but that doesn't make this horror. 

While reading, it felt like it took me a while to slog through this short novel.  Even before the half-way point, I really just wanted the thing over and done with.  Once the story is going and things are actually happening, it's a speedy enough read.  The problem is that there are long stretches with very little non-repetitive dialogue or action of any significant kind.  One could easily condense the book into a short story and leave very little (worth reading) out, in my humble opinion.

So no, I was not enthralled.  The basic concept is intriguing... but it suffered from having too few really likeable characters to balance out the horrid ones.  It was interesting at points, but those points were too few and far between.  The wit sparkled, but soon it felt like a loop of the same old same.  If it wasn't a repeat of the same exact sentiments, they were close enough to seem like repeats.  The clever, wicked sayings grew tiresome.  An excellent command of the language can only carry you so far-- especially when you are overly conscious of your own cleverness.

I doubt I'll ever want to revisit The Picture of Dorian Gray, but I suppose it is one of those things that are worth reading once.



More Specifics (with one spoilery one at the end):
--  After reading a little about the book online, after finishing the novel itself, I learned that the preface was added after the novel's initial outraged reception.  I'm not surprised.  It certainly felt very defensive:

"There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book.  Books are well written, or badly written.  That is all."

I don't quite agree.  Can the book itself-- the printed words on paper-- be moral/immoral?  No, it is only an object.  But it is possible to write a book that leads people astray more than not-- a book whose reading sullies the mind and excites unworthy impulses in the hearts of those who read it.  To completely ignore that truth-- to wash your hands of it after the writing and say, "It's not my fault if they behave badly after I've shown them how it's done!"-- is a rather pathetic attempt at self-deception. If you believe in morality/right vs. wrong at all, you must recognize that a book is an expression of thought-- a communication between minds (those of author and reader) -- and of course they can contain moral or immoral messages and intentions.


--  "We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it.  The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely."

No, I disagree.  Why not admire a useful thing?  Why cannot a thing be useful and admirable (beautiful) at the same time?


--  "There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about."  Many of the "sayings" in this book feel extremely familiar because they have become famous in their own right.  There's no denying that Wilde was clever with words. 


--  Lord Henry/Harry... Ah, what can I say about him?  Perhaps that he is possibly the most loathsome character I have ever come across?  Or at least, the most loathsome (and misogynistic) in recent memory.  His speech to Dorian-- the speech on the all-importance of youth, stirring the seeds of vanity and wickedness in the boy to life and growth-- is one of the most noxious, depressing things I have ever read.  He really is horrible.  Anyone over the age of thirty reading it must feel a draining away of spirit while reading it.


--  On the one hand, this books does seem somewhat dangerous to the young and impressionable.  Some of the sentiments expressed are nothing short of vile and poisonous.  On the other hand, we look at what happens to Dorian and see the story as a warning against hedonism...  Still, not a story for children-- not that many children would even be interested.


--  Henry is definitely a man who loves the sound of his own voice, and it's obvious that Wilde enjoyed using the character as a mouthpiece for some of his own most scandalous and witty observations.


--  Though nothing is stated explicitly (in the probably edited version that I read, at least), all the male characters act and speak as though they are gay-- including those who are married or who have dalliances with female characters.  (The one exception is the rough Jim, Sybil Vane's brother.)  For instance, look at Dorian's detailed description of what Sybil was wearing one night... I think very few straight men would remember a woman's dress down to such tiny details-- and certainly not describe it thus.  What was the point of that?  Are they supposed to be gay, or did Wilde simply find it difficult to write about sophisticated males in such a way that they didn't seem affectedly feminine?


--  What was with that long chapter covering Dorian's actions over the space of many years?  It went on forever!  Also, there is nothing inherently evil about a fascination with jewels, music, etc.  I suppose Wilde couldn't/didn't wish to go into details about the truly awful things Dorian has done, so we get pages about famous gems instead... ???


--  "Sin is a thing that writes itself across a man's face.  It cannot be concealed.  People talk sometimes of secret vices.  There are no such things.  If a wretched man has a vice, it shows itself in the lines of his mouth, the droop of his eyelids, the moulding of his hands even."

I disagree.
I don't think such things are always visible.  If a person acknowledges to himself that he has a vice, and if it troubles him night and day, then it will likely show-- but not always.   Also, that does not account for those who don't recognize their sins for what they are.  Or rather, those who know that what they do is deemed wrong by the world (so that they know to hide it), but who are lacking in conscience to the degree that the knowledge doesn't trouble them.


--  "She laughed again.  Her teeth showed like white seeds in a scarlet fruit."

Um, gross.


--  SPOILERY COMMENT TO FOLLOW.

I thought the portrait might burn in a housefire (or similar) with the same essential result as what actually happened in the book (sudden reversal of appearances between Dorian and his portrait)-- but I didn't foresee Dorian himself destroying the portrait. 

Carmilla

Carmilla, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu

Brief Description:
A young woman describes the horrifying events that occur during the unplanned sojourn at her home of another young woman who is as mysterious as she is beautiful.

POSSIBLY UNNECESSARY SPOILER ALERT:  This is a vampire story that predates Dracula by about twenty-five years. 


My Reaction:
I haven't read Dracula since... high school?...so I'm probably ill-prepared to compare the two, but it seems impossible not to do so.  If I'd read Carmilla first, I might have liked it even more-- and it was still good-- but I think I preferred Dracula.  Maybe it comes down to sheer length; Carmilla is a novella, while Dracula benefits from more pages in which to spin the tale.

That aside, how was the book in itself?  Good classic horror-- but I found the effect blunted.  To those who read it when the story was new-- or to someone miraculously unfamiliar with vampire lore-- it must be more startling than it was to me.  There were a few creepy moments (that I suppose I shouldn't reveal in this review), but even most of those felt weak-- or at least, they could have been presented more powerfully, with more vivid description... or more detailed emotional response from the witnesses... or something.  It felt a bit flatter than I'd hoped.  Still, all in all, well worth a read for anyone interested in classic horror-- particularly that pertaining to vampires.


Random Observations:

--  I wasn't sure whether Styria was a real place, so I looked it up.  Apparently it's part of Austria. Funny that it's described as a "lonely and primitive place".  I don't know; maybe parts of Austria were "primitive" when this was written/set...

--  Le Fanu seems to have some "had I but known" tendencies.  Direct quote: "Heavens!  If I had but known all!"

--  Perhaps the most startling aspect of the book was the lesbian innuendo.  I know that female friendships at that time could be more passionate and clinging than is the norm, today, but this goes beyond that.  I mean, there are kisses from "hot lips", panting breaths, and the like-- but never anything more explicit than that.  Considering how surprising that was for me, I can only imagine how scandalous it must've been for Le Fanu's contemporary readers.  Did people have to read the book in private for fear of what the neighbors would think?  ;o)

--  The vampire in this book is presented-- interestingly-- as an intelligent "con man".  I would say that I find it difficult to reconcile that intelligence with what is otherwise presented as a remorseless, bloodthirsty monster, except for the fact that real-life monsters are sometimes quick-witted and excellent mimics of normalcy.

--  The word "vampire" doesn't show up until 82% into the novella, though "oupire" is used at least a couple times before that.  

--  According to the vampire mythology of this book, "a suicide, under certain circumstances, becomes a vampire" that then creates more vampires of the people it kills.  That's the first I've heard of any connection between vampires and suicide.  It struck me as odd. 


SPOILERy Comments:

--  I don't know if the hilarity was intentional or not, but I found it quite amusing when the traveling entertainer noticed Carmilla's fangs and offered to file them down for her.  HA!

--  Very interesting that Carmilla is so vehement that all can be explained by "nature" / science rather than a Creator, religion or spirits.  I'm used to the idea that vampires are repelled by crosses and other Christian symbols-- but the insistence on "nature" was new to me. 

--  Laura is really extraordinarily dimwitted at times.  I know that Le Fanu tries to explain it away with all that stuff about how isolated the schloss was and how little Laura had been able to mix with society-- so naive, so innocent, so young-- but still!  When someone says this to you:  "You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me and still come with me, and hating me through death and after."  ...Well, maybe it's time to become a bit concerned about the person's sanity and intentions toward you.

--  Related to the above:  After the scene at the ancient estate-- after the General tries to kill Carmilla-- when it should be obvious to everyone that Carmilla is the same monster that caused the death of the General's niece-- Laura is still "dismayed" when she returns home to discover "that there were no tidings of Carmilla".  ...Sorry, Laura; you may be a nice person, but you're not that bright.

--  So here we get the idea that (some) vampires must follow special "rules"-- such as the one that they can only go by anagrams of their true names.  Mircalla becomes Carmilla or Millarca.  That seems a bit silly to me, honestly, but then again, why should it seem any sillier than much else in vampire mythology?   Incidentally, I recently saw a movie in which Dracula went by "Alucard"-- and thought that was pretty ridiculous, too.

--  I would have liked some explanation of Carmilla's "mother" and her servants.

Nightmare Abbey

Nightmare Abbey, by Thomas Love Peacock

Blurb:

"Published in the same year as Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, Thomas Love Peacock's Nightmare Abbey is not just a burlesque of the Gothic novel, but a sustained critique of what he regarded as 'the darkness and misanthropy of modern literature.' His witty satire on 'the spirit of the age' can best be understood through an awareness of its complex intertextual relations with other works of Romantic literature."

--Nicholas A. Joukovsky

Well, that about sums it up-- a witty, satirical "send up" of the Gothic novel.  I found Nightmare Abbey amusing in spots, but unfortunately, dense and (honestly) dull in others, which interrupts the flow.  Where it's good, though, it's very good-- and many of the most biting criticisms feel just as relevant today as they must have done when it was written.

Do I recommend it?  It's probably not for the general public, but to the right sort of person, it would be a delight.  It's short, but it took me (what felt like) a long time to plod through it, and I'd have liked it better if certain of the trudgier parts had been left out.


Some tidbits:

--  Odd names abound, some amusing (Mr. Toobad, Mr. Glowry), some rather blandly attempting at humor (Mr. Listless), and some just odd (Scythrop). 

--  There are words in this novella that are not in some (most?) dictionaries.  Or, put another way, dude liked weird words.  ;o)  ("Jeremitaylorically", anyone?)

--  "Laughter is pleasant, but the exertion is too much for me."

--  "But I must say, modern books are very consolatory and congenial to my feelings.  There is, as it were, a delightful northeast wind, an intellectual blight breathing through them; a delicious misanthropy and discontent, that demonstrates the nullity of virtue and energy, and puts me in good humour with myself and my sofa."

--  Mermaids are the orangutangs of the sea.  Apparently.

--  "He was sitting at his table by the light of a solitary candle, with a pen in one hand, and a muffineer in the other, with which he occasionally sprinkled salt on the wick, to make it burn blue."  (Ooh, I want blue flame, too!  Must learn this salt-sprinkling trick... ;o))

--  "She had a lively sense of all the oppressions that are done under the sun; and the vivid pictures which her imagination presented to her of the numberless scenes of injustice and misery which are being acted at every moment in every part of the inhabited world, gave an habitual seriousness to her physiognomy, that made it seem as if a smile had never once hovered on her lips."

--  "'Fatout,' said the Honourable Mr Listless, 'did I ever see a ghost?'   'Jamais, monsieur, never.'"

--  I love the interactions between Fatout and Listless.  I need a Fatout to remember everything for me, too...

--  "'The Reverend Mr Larynx has been called off on duty, to marry or bury (I don't know which) some unfortunate person or persons, at Claydyke: but man is born to trouble!"

--  The "accurate description of a pensive attitude" (at the end of chapter 13)-- !

Cranford

Cranford, by Elizabeth Gaskell

Cranford is a very "gentle" story full of quiet humor.  What else would you expect, with the focus on a circle of (mostly) aging spinsters living in a staid English village (in the mid-1800s)?  It won't be everyone's cup of tea, and there's not much in the way of action or even plot, but the slow pace and mild comedy-- the unashamed delving into the minutiae of life-- is nice, it its way.

I listened to an audio book version of this short novel, and took a long time in doing so.  When I was actually listening, it was interesting enough, but I didn't find it so compelling that I couldn't wait to hear more-- thus the extended time frame.

Still, a pleasant book.  Ideal for listening to while doing something suitably calm and sedate-- like knitting the garter stitch section of Multnomah.

SPOILERy:
I did find some of it rather on the sad side-- Miss Matty and her memories of long-dead family members, her former beauty, the failure of her love story to end in marriage-- but there's nothing too dramatic here.  In the end, it's a faithful representation of life as most of us know it.  There is sadness and regret, but you tend not to dwell on it for too long-- and the business of living continually offers new interests (however small), if only we are open to them.