Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont (2)

A question for Verity and Jo from David: What did you make of the other residents of the Claremont?

David: It is now a couple of weeks since I read the book and, not being a proper book blogger myself, I'm not in the habit of making notes about my leisure reading. As a result, I must admit that, aside from Mr Osmond, I am already struggling to remember defining characteristics of Mrs Palfrey's fellow residents. Of course, that may say more about my memory than it does about the characters. Worryingly, it may also suggest that I share in my society's tendency to look upon older people as a group, rather than as individuals. Mr Osmond stands out by virtue of his amusing comments about the accents of those reading the weather forecast, his letters to the press, and above all (assuming we are permitted spoilers) on account of his proposal.

Jo: I thought the other residents were a good cross section. The man who seemed to want to be on his own Mr Osmond, who was surrounded by these women but only wanted male company, hence why he was always trying to talk to the waiter, the manager and as rather put out by the noise of the women - the clacking on the knitting needles and the rather loud Mrs Burton! This was the resident who made me laugh the most. Her drinking, chain smoking and rather unlike elderly behaviour that is expected. I read, that perhaps ET used the name of that other ET, to poke a bit of fun at her. I do wonder.


Verity: I agree with David that the peripheral characters are not terribly defining; in some ways I felt that they were stereotypes of the people that one might expect to find in a retirement hotel.

A question from Jo for David and Verity: How important to the novel is the lie that is told by Mrs Palfrey that Ludo was really her grandson? 

Jo: I think the rest of the residents knew that Ludo was not Mrs Palfrey's grandson, but in graciousness they let the little lie run and run. They all seemed to be waiting for that visitor in the hotel, and when someone else got a visitor they continued to have that dream that someone will come to see them.

David: As you will now be aware from reading my other answers, I think it is quite an important device in the novel, without which some comedic potential would be lost. As I have already said, it also provides the means by which Ludo is delayed from hearing about Mrs Palfrey's accident, demonstrating that even the most harmless of untruths can have painful consequences.

I'm interested that Jo thinks the rest of the residents knew it was a falsehood from the start. I can certainly see that as a possible interpretation. However, if that were the case it would seem cruel for them not to let on after the accident. They continue to behave as if Ludo is the real grandson and will therefore be fully informed, but if they knew that he was not the real grandson, then they would also know that he did not know about what had happened to Mrs Palfrey (at the risk of beginning to sound like Donald Rumsfeld with his 'known knowns' and 'known unknowns'). This would not preclude Jo's theory from being correct, but it would presumably cast a darker shadow over the other residents at the Claremont. Hitherto we have seen them as having various peculiarities, but they have never seemed savagely cruel.

Verity:  I agree that there would be little plot without the lie.  I am fascinated by the idea that the residents knew from the start that it was a lie as that is not something that had occurred to me.  I am inclined to agree with David that it would be cruel for them not to have let on somewhat sooner

Anything to add?
David: Another thing that struck me several times when reading this book was how language and grammar change. Are we to assume that the relationship between Ludo and Rosie is more than platonic and that, consequently, their "making love" is to be understood in the modern sense of this phrase, rather than in the sense used by Jane Austen when she referred to Mr Bingley 'making love to all the room' without any premonition of the sort of lively gathering this might suggest when applied to the 1960s? Alternatively, is Taylor is still using this phrase in its nineteenth century sense? When did common usage change?

One of the sentences I quoted earlier provides another example of how grammar and usage change. "Down the ladder she obviously would have to go," may be grammatically correct, though I suspect that these days, certainly in spoken English, most of us would probably say "Down the ladder she would obviously have to go." Purists might say that Taylor is right and modern speech is wrong, but can a phrase be "wrong" if it is widely and unambiguously understood?

I know that you have both lost grandmothers this year, so it is not surprising to read that Jo found reading this book had added poignancy as a result. Even without recalling personal loss, I found the closing section of the novel quite emotional. I really cared about everyone involved, probably more fervently than had been the case up to this point. I thought the other residents were over-doing it with the predictions of death and was actually quite taken aback when their fears proved to be well-founded.

Would I read more by Elizabeth Taylor or more VMCs?

David: I think I probably will read more of Taylor's work, although like anyone who follows the book blogosphere my list of authors to investigate further is in danger of getting unmanageably long. I tend not to follow particular imprints, so I don't think my enjoyment of this book will make me any more - or less - likely to read other title's from Virago Modern Classics. Aesthetically, I find the purple tones of my paperback copy of Mrs Palfrey rather more appealing that Virago's traditional dark green jacket style. The latter, for some reason, has associations in my mind with the literary equivalent of worthy pamphlets advocating social improvements (something I am not against, I would add) rather than with a good read.

 Jo: Thank you Verity for introducing me to the book, the author and of course VMC. When I will have the time to read this I am not sure. But I will certainly read ET again, and would welcome recommendations. Perhaps I wanted to know more about the hotel, the running of it, more of the characters backgrounds and why they chose to end their penultimate days there. That said, the book was spot on, the right length and concentrated on the two main characters well and the supplementary characters added the right balance. It was a delight to read. 

Thank you both for joining in, I was relieved that you enjoyed the book!  I hope that other people have enjoyed reading our collaboration.

Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont (1)

As my part in the Elizabeth Taylor Centenary Celebrations, organised by Laura, I'm hosting the celebration of Taylor's 11th novel, Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont.  As I've read it before, I thought I'd enlist the help of two friends to help me discuss it.  So without further ado, may I introduce David, and Jo.  I met both of them through blogging, although Jo is the only one of the two to have her own blog which you can find here.  We ended up having such a good discussion that I've decided to split it into two posts, so do pop back tomorrow for some more chat.  We would love to hear your own thoughts on the questions posed if you've been joining in with this month's readalong or have read it before, so please join in on the comments box and we will hopefully be around to reply!

So, David and Jo, what was your first thought when I suggested that you read this book?

David: First, I was flattered to be asked to take part in any group read. As for this particular author and title, I had already heard of the book as I recall Simon Thomas speaking highly of it on Stuck in a Book some time back. It is not one of Simon's "50 Books You Must Read But May Not Have Heard About" that stares at you every time you visit his blog, so I must have been sufficiently impressed by his review for it to stick in my memory as a novel that might be worth exploring.

Jo: I thought, oooo good, I have been meaning to read one of Elizabeth Taylor's (ET) novels for so long. I have seen so much on various different blogs about her and felt I was late to the party on this author. It also meant that I was reading something which was out of my normal reading habits. The fact that when I read the opening paragraph, it was set in a hotel I was even more intrigued. I love books where "institutions" are used as a setting, to me it gives a vast scope for characters and plots. 

How did the book compare to your initial conceptions?

David: Given where I first heard about this book, I came to it expecting something set in the 1920s or 30s, that would probably not contain much action or suspense, but would instead offer quiet contemplation of characters leading quiet lives, presented in elegant but not pretentious prose. I was probably also expecting a smattering of gentle humour.

I got pretty much what I was expecting, the only exception being the period. One of the things I most enjoyed about the first few chapters was trying to figure out exactly when it was set. Mention of Union Jack shopping bags, the length of Ludo's hair - on the longer side if I recall correctly - and later of long haired protestors suggested a 1960s setting.

It did not let me down on the gentle humour front either. There was one episode or remark I found particularly amusing, but since I failed to note it at the time I have since been unable to find it again. The most comedic situations arise as a consequence of Mrs Palfrey's decision to pass-off Ludo as her grandson. This leads to some awkward moments when they are talking with, or in earshot of, other Claremont residents. Not surprisingly, when the real Desmond turns up, he gets pushed out for a walk on a somewhat inclement evening, leaving him to wonder whether his grandmother is losing her marbles.

Jo: I thought I was going to be reading about the goings on of a hotel - quite simply. How wrong I was, but certainly not disappointed. I was also expecting something that I would have to concentrate on reading and the language would be rather stilted, again how wrong I was. Other than these things, I really did not know what I was going to be reading - this being the very first ET novel I read. 

What did you make of Mrs Palfrey, and how did you feel about her friendship with Ludo?

David: I found the friendship forged between Mrs Palfrey and Ludo perfectly believeable, even in a decade when the old and young were moving apart like never before. They are both lonely people, even though Mrs Palfrey has a fellow residents and Ludo has the company of Rosie. They also share a precarious grip on financial respectability. Ludo may be closer to the brink of poverty, at one time having to hold down several jobs in order to support his mother, but Mrs Palfrey is also very much aware of that her circumstances are constrained and likely to become more so the longer she lives:

One might go on and on, hopelessly being a nuisance to other people; in the end, lower standards because of rising prices. For her, the Claremont was only just achieved. Down the ladder she obviously would have to go. (p.45)

Ludo's poverty is represented by his threadbare clothes, using Harrods banking hall as his writing studio (unusual as it may be to associate Harrods with poverty), and above all by his basement flat. As Mrs Palfrey observes about such residences when walking in Ludo's neighbourhood:

Some of the basement windows were covered by vertical iron bars, so that it must be like being in prison to live behind them, she thought. One could peer up at the feet going by, and the wheels of cars; but no sky ...

Despite the differences between the Claremont and Ludo's sub-terranean flat, the two places share a sense of sadness and decay. The Claremont is no longer a popular choice for elegant tourists, and its permanent residents have all passed their prime; meanwhile, the streets were Ludo lives have also seen better days, the homes of the wealthy, and their basement kitchens, having since been converted into cramped flats and dingy bedsits.

I think that this relative equality between Mrs Palfrey and Ludo strengthens their friendship, as seems to be proven when Mrs Palfrey's loan creates a barrier between them that had not previously existed.

Mrs Palfrey and Ludo are thrown together by accident when she falls over near this home. The friendship that leads on from this chance meeting is not just a product of shared isolation and genteel decline. I sense that the strongest connection is a consequence of mutual emotional need. Mrs Palfrey has a difficult relationship with her daughter, and a grandson who seems not to care; Ludo has a mother who shows him little love but is happy to take advantage of him when the need arises. Mrs P is a sort of surrogate grandmother to Ludo, and in return he becomes the sort of grandson she would like to have. Sadly, of course, the absence of any genuine family ties between them delays his ability to rush to see her when events take an unfortunate turn towards the end of the book. Perhaps the message here is that rather than struggling to keep up appearances we should be honest about our lives, admitting the truth about our economic circumstances and, more importantly, about our families. Then, as now, people would probably have been suspicious about a cross-generational friendship of the kind between Mrs Palfey and Ludo and, as a result, they would probably have needed to invent some kind of familial link, but not making out he was Desmond would at least have avoided some of the difficulties this causes. Not that I am saying Taylor should not have written it as it is, after all, as I said earlier, it is this deception which makes possible some of the novel's more comic situations.



Jo:  I felt Mrs Palfrey was very fragile character and her friendship with Ludo gave her strength. She was an outsider to the hotel and it was obviously going to take time to settle in to the hotel, at that point I was unaware that these residents were here before they went to either hospital, nursing homes or sadly heaven. It made me think very much about the lovely home my nan was in for the last ten weeks of her life and how all the residents used to love the young children coming into visit them. It brought them much happiness. Coming back to the book, I felt that Ludo provided that happiness. All of a sudden Mrs Palfrey had a purpose, something to do and someone to look out for. It was clear her daughter was not particularly caring, otherwise why had she let her mother move all the way to London, her grandson when he did appear was out of duty not love. Ludo also had a purpose with Mrs Palfrey as well as the initial rescuing of her outside where he lived. She gave him an insight into another world which was better than watching life go by in Harrods Banking Hall. This was more real and interactive. Ludo was lost in London as much as Mrs Palfrey and they found each other and I think that it gave them what they needed at the time. Even at the end for Mrs Palfrey, she was not forgotten by Ludo but erased from her own families records as if her death was an inconvenience.

Can you think of any other novels on the theme of ageing and elderly death that you have read, or do you have any thoughts on this topic?
David: One would expect there to be more novels on this theme, particularly in Britain and the rest of Europe where we seem very much aware of having an ageing population. Having said that, Britain in particular has long seemed to me to be obsessed with youth: the older you get, the less important your needs seem to be considered. This is something that already occurred to me in my teens, and not just a reaction to getting older myself.
If you'll excuse me for behaving like the librarian I nearly was, and the data analyst I now am, you may be interested to know that on Librarything, as at 10th November 2012,  the tag "ageing" has been used 8176 times by 3038 members; the tag "youth" is used by a similar number of readers, 3515, but with significanty greater frequency (37,485 times). These results may well be biased by a tendency to regard fiction for young people as a distinct genre, in a way that is not mirrored in what is increasingly being called "later life". Books aimed at young people very often feature young people, thereby increasing a tendency to tag such books with youth-related labels. Nevertheless, these numbers do seem to offer some anecdotal evidence in support of Verity's suggestion that ageing is something of a taboo subject in literature, or at least in literature that is popular.

I found only two other books in my collection that were tagged with "age". One was Catherine O'Flynn's "The News Where You Are", a novel that seems to me to be of its time in a stronger way than might have been the case when Mrs Palfrey was published. The residents of the Claremont Hotel probably seemed like relics from the age of empire even when the book was first published. Even the hotel owner would appear to prefer not to have to rely on their custom. By contrast, the older characters and the old people's home that feature in O'Flynn's book - for all my suspicions about the marginalisation of the old - seem more integrated into a multi-generational story.

The second book that I tagged with "age" was "Strangers" by Anita Brookner. Stylistically, Brookner is much closer to Taylor than the younger O'Flynn. Of course, Brookner is now in her eighties. Getting older does not oblige an author to write about being old, but it is not suprising if such circumstances prompt an interest in the theme. Perhaps we can expect an increase in the number of books about ageing now that the likes of Rushdie and Amis have turned sixty?
 
Jo: I have really racked my brains, and continue to do so in regards to reading novels which death and ageing feature strongly in them. I think that there is either very little or it has passed me by. It is not necessarily a theme I would pick up if I am to be honest. Although I have read plenty of novels where death is a common theme but generally with those that are young and not old. At the moment I put this down to the loss of my own grandmother and how even now it suddenly comes over me in a wave the loss, at the most oddest times. It is with the lack of interest by Mrs Palfrey's daughter and son that made me quite cross. I suddenly realised that there are many people out there who are on their own and that no one cares what happens despite them having relatives. 

Verity: I am fascinated by David's analysis of data and the conclusions that he has drawn.  I think Jo makes a valid point that she would not necessarily pick up a book on such a theme as I think that I would agree with that.  Maybe that goes some way to explaining David's findings.









To be continued....

Elizabeth Taylor Centenary: Mrs Palfrey group read

One of the things that I regret most about neglecting this blog so much during 2012 is that I have failed dismally to participate in the Elizabeth Taylor Centenary readalongs organised by Laura.  It would have been the perfect opportunity for me to reread (some for the third time) Elizabeth Taylor's novels which were initially read pre-blog and record my thoughts here.  But it was mostly not to be.

However, I did agree to host the readalong for Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont which was my second encounter with the writer back in 2009 and what I felt at the time was a very memorable read.  And I'm looking forward to re-reading it in the next couple of weeks.  As I'm struggling to balance a few things at the moment and had doubts about the interest of what I could write about it, I've asked a two or three of my bloggy friends to read it, and I am hoping that I may be able to ask them some questions about what they thought about it.

If you haven't read it, then do pick up a copy if you can to join in.  And here to tempt you is the first page:

"Mrs Palfrey first came to the Claremont hotel on a Sunday afternoon in January.  Rain had closed in over London, and her taxi sloshed along the almost deserted Cromwell Road, past one cavernous porch after another, the driver going slowly and poking his head out into the wet, for the hotel was not known to him.  This discovery that he did not know, had a little disconcerted Mrs Palfrey, for she did not know it either, and began to wonder what she was coming to.  She tried to banish terror from her heart.  She was alarmed at the threat of her own depression.
If it's not nice, I needn't stay, she promised herself, her lips slightly moving, as she leaned forward in the taxi, looking from side to side of the wide, frightening road, almost dreading to read the name Claremont over one of those porches.  There were so many hotels, one after the other along this street, all looking much the same.
She had simply chanced on an advertisement in a Sunday newspaper while staying in Scotland with her daughter Elizabeth.  Reduced winter rates.  Excellent cuisine.  We can take that with a pinch of salt, she had thought at the time.
At last the cab slowed down.  "Claremont hotel" she read, as clear as could be in large letters... 

We'll meet back here on November 15th to chat about it.

Virago Modern Classics: Coming Of Age Collection

Wow - little reading has been going on in Verityland of late, and thus even littler blogging on my Virago Venture, but a parcel from Virago is just the thing to whet my appetite and lead to a blog post!  These beautiful hardbacks with dreamy covers are part of Virago's Coming of Age Collection released at the start of August which I think would make wonderful presents.

The blurb that came with the books says "Virago Modern Classics has broken ground with its beautiful, collectible, limited edition hardbacks of perennial favourites*...now Virago Modern Classics has created a unique set of hardbacks - a collection of six modern classic coming of age stories, for adult, and young adult readers alike, beautifully bound and with stunning custom-designed and interlinked jacket artwork by New York based illustrator Mira Nameth.  These are gorgeous books intended to be collected, enjoyed, cherished and pressed into the hands of other readers, whatever their age.  Each has been selected for its striking depiction of a time, a place, and of a young woman on the cusp of adulthood"

The titles are:
Slammerkin (Emma Donaghue)
Invitation to the Waltz (Rosamund Lehmman)
My brilliant career (Miles Franklin)
Tipping the velvet (Sarah Waters)
The river (Rumer Godden)
I know why the caged bird sings (Maya Angelou)

Invitation and My brilliant were already VMCs, the rest were not, although the authors were already Virago ones.

I've read all but the Rumer Godden novel (and Invitation to the Waltz has to be one of my favourite books ever), but as she is an author who I have greatly enjoyed in the past, I am very much looking forward to picking up The river.

[Oh and Virago collectors may be interested to know that these titles don't seem to be numbered]



* absolutely, they are things of beauty which I have written about here

An update and some new VMCs!

It's been exactly a month since I last posted on this blog, I haven't been managing to keep up with much reading at all, let alone VMCs. I have actually been doing some rereading - I have gone back to Rosamund Lehmann (and have Dusty Answer in my bag for work for tomorrow), and I reread My Cousin Rachel by Daphne Du Maurier last week whilst on my holidays (not sure that a gothic novel is the best choice for a sunny beach holiday, but I did enjoy the reread nonethless.

I was excited to return home from my holidays yesterday to a parcel of new VMCs - three of which I have read before, and two which I haven't. I'm very excited that Virago have decided to reprint Sylvia Townsend Warner, with The corner that held them and Lolly Willowes out at the start of March. I wrote about them a while ago on the blog, and I rather like these whimsical new covers. There is also going to be an e-book release of The dolls house and other stories, which is four short stories which have been recently discovered in the New York Public Library archive. Introductions to the two physical books are by Philip Hensher and Sarah Waters - it's always great to see eminent contemporary writers championing the Virago Modern Classics. I didn't actually own any SWT books so I am excited to have these as part of the collection.

Released on the 8th March is a new paperback edition of Daphne Du Maurier's Vanishing Cornwall. This is one of my very favourite books which I was very happy that Virago brought out in a beautiful hardback about 6 years ago, and now it appears as a glossy paperback with all of the original pictures. This book was described by The Times as "an eloquent elegy on the past of a county she loved so much" and I do recommend it to anybody with an interest in Cornwall or DDM.

Finally, amid these goodies is the second volume of Vera Brittain's autobiography which tells the story of Winifred Holtby. I don't think that I've ever read this book and I am looking forward to learning more about Holtby and the relationship of the two women. If it's as good as Testament of Youth then it'll definitely be worth reading.


(I've just spotted the the STW novels are under embargo until the 1st, so I shall set this post to post then!)

Charms for the easy life (Kaye Gibbons)

Charms for the easy life is the fourth Kaye Gibbons novel that I've read for this challenge and she's an author that I have enjoyed reading who I probably would not have picked up otherwise - the front of this novel compares her to a later Eudora Welty (another author I've read as a result of VVV) and I think that this is true through the way that she writes about women's lives in rural America.

Charms for the easy life follows the story of three generations of women, told by the grandaughter Margaret. It is a story without a strong male presence, neither Charlie Kate her grandmother or her mother Sophia is married any longer, although they have various romantic entanglements, and it is interesting to see a world depicted where women can very much try to make it on their own even though it is the 1930s and there are many obstacles in the way.

Charlie Kate is a "healing woman", with considerable skill, she is the person often summoned when neighbours and other people in the town suffer ill health much to the chagrin of the local doctor who does almost everything he can to impede her work even though it is almost immediately obvious to the reader that she does things better.

What is so striking about this book is the way that the women depend on each other and can cope without depending on men, which makes it an interesting companion read to some of my most recent VMC reading such as Gissing's The odd women.

It's been published just the once by Virago with a green spine but very ungreen cover!

Two Mary Webb VMCs

So last week I decided to tackle two more Mary Webb books which had been languishing in the TBR pile. Not overly enamoured by the ones that I've read so far (is it really only three, it feels like many more), but at least there is only one more to go after these two, the first and last books that she wrote.

The golden arrow was Webb's first novel, apparently penned in just under three weeks. Set in a poor farming community in Shropshire and strongly infused with Christian morals, it tells the story of Stephen and Deb who are searching for a "golden arrow" which is said to bind couples together if it is found on Palm Sunday, the Sunday before Easter, an old Shropshire legend. He was originally a preacher, but came to reject religion and convinces Deb to live with him out of wedlock which is the start of their downfall. Although they later get married, Stephen feels tied down and finds it difficult to love Deb in the same way.

The armour wherein he trusted was Webb's last novel and was in fact unfinished. It certainly feels quite "bitty" compared to her earlier works, and it is published here with 10 short (in some cases only two pages) stories. The main story is supposedly a medieval romance, set in the 11th century where an abbot named Sir Gilbert recalls his early life as a knight and his spiritual struggles to follow Christ. It seems to be very much a didactic book about trying to achieve heavenly ideals rather than earthly ones.

I enjoyed the short stories rather more, especially a little one about a woman who yearns to recieve a bouquet of flowers. Quite an extravagance, and really she is lucky enough to have money to put in the gas and to buy tea. However, she gives in to the desire and decides to treat herself to some flowers for her birthday. The day before, she goes to the market, chooses the ones she wants in her bouquet, tells the market seller that they are for a dear friend, and goes home for a sleepless night filled with anticipation of the next day. She waits, and waits and waits. Where are the flowers? Of course her landlady thought that they couldn't possibly be for her. It's like a kick in the stomach after the anticipation of seeing her get the flowers.

Both of these have just been published once by Virago with the original green covers.

The glimpses of the moon (Wharton)

My colleague handed me The glimpses of the moon by Edith Wharton after the Christmas break. She, like regular readers, knows that I have struggled with Wharton books on this challenge finding them difficult to relate to, so she didn't mind too much when I wasn't terribly effusive. Let me be clear however, I was still grateful to have a VMC that I had not yet read put into my hands, and actually, I have to admit to getting more out of it than I was expecting.

Although, like the other Wharton books I have read, this focuses on "society", it had a strong plot line from the start which interested me enough to want to keep reading. Penniless Nick and Susy have just got married and are on honeymoon; we discover that it has been a pragmatic marriage where they think that marriage will benefit them financially and within society. They intend to live off their wedding present cheques and the hospitality of their friends and acquaintances and believe that these will last for about a year before running out. They make an agreement that should one of them have the opportunity to marry someone wealthy, they will break the marriage. However, when a misunderstanding results in them going off with other people, it seems that the time spent together has not just had a pragmatic effect, they have actually fallen in love.

I realised whilst I was reading the book that the reason I think I struggle with Wharton's books is because the emphasis on society life seems to make the characters predominantly interested in superficial things such as money and social hierarchies. Although this was certainly a strong theme in this book, I sensed from early on that perhaps this wasn't the most important thing.

Maybe I should try The house of mirth next which has been waiting for me for quite a while...

This has just been published once by Virago with an italicised green cover. Thanks again to Alison for passing it to me. Bizarrely it has the same number as No place on earth by Christa Wolf.

Story of an African farm (Schreiner)

After two very plot driven VMCs, I struggled a little bit with A story of an African farm. It was recommended to me many years ago by a very dear friend but I had never got around to reading it before now. Although it follows the narrative of two women growing up, it is much more essay and description than actual story.

A story of an African farm follows Lyndall and Em, who live on a sheep farm in the Boer in South Africa. Published at the end of the nineteenth century, the book illustrates that the options available to women in South Africa were as limited as those in England (as illustrated in the last two VMCs that I read, Red Pottage and The odd women). The book describes Em’s willingness to accept her limited options and Lyndall’s refusal, leading her to leave home to attend boarding school and find a relationship, although having witnessed unsuccessful marriages she refuses to consider this for herself.

You can read a more extensive review of the book here .

Although it's been published many times, it's just been published once by Virago Modern Classics with the original green cover.

Red Pottage (Cholmondery)

I purchased Red Pottage after reading Simon’s review about it – it seemed to have been yet another VMC that had passed me by thus far. It joined the TBR but flushed with the success of enjoying The odd women last week I thought it only right to attempt this book too – partly because it had been recommended by a fellow blogger, but mainly because it was published in the same year.

What makes this book so gripping is the way it starts with a suicide pact between two men associated with the Lady Newhaven – her husband and her lover – they draw straws and the one with the shortest straw must die within 5 months. Lady Newhaven overhears the drawing of the straws but has to wait for five months to find out who it is.

Around this suicide pact we follow the story of Rachel West and Hester Gresley, childhood friends who have ended up in quite different circumstances in adulthood. Rachel is a heiress following years of povert y whilst Hester is forced to live with her vicar brother who has quite a different way of life to the one which she would choose. He conforms to all of the social expectations, but she is writing a novel which is anything but.

Bits of the book are intensely humourous such as when the man who has drawn the short straw is nearly drowned (unintentionally) and ends up being rescued by the other man.

Although this book, along with The odd women, did some more to dispel my distrust of Victorian VMCs, I didn’t enjoy it quite as much – I wonder perhaps because I read it so close to a book that I had loved. I didn’t find its commentary on women went as far – it was much more a book about friendship between women than the lot of women. On the other hand, it went a lot further into the issue of class which plagued society, satirising it.

Do look at Simon’s review as it goes into it a lot further than me!

Confessions of a failed Southern lady

Although this book reads exactly like a novel, and there is nothing on the blurb to indicate that it is anything but, Confessions of a failed Southern lady is actually the memoir of the author, Florence King. I picked it up as I needed something very different after Gissing and this book certainly fitted those criteria.

The author starts by stating that although "there are ladies everywhere...they enjoy generic recognition only in the South. There is a New England old maid but not a New England lady. There is a Midwestern farm wife, but not a Midwestern lady. There is most assuredly a Californian girl, but if anyone spoke of a California lady, even Phil Donahue and Alan Alda would laugh".

This book is devoted to Florence's grandmother's attempts to get turn her grandaughter into a Southern lady, having failed dismally with her mother. To escape these pressures, Florence goes to a college far away from home where she ends up falling in love with a female professor - pretty much contrary to what her grandmother would have wished for. However in the process of standing up for herself, Florence does eventually come to understand what her grandmother wanted for her and achieves some sort of compromise/

This is quite an entertaining book, more so I think once one realises that it is a memoir!

It's just been published once by Virago with this modern cover and an introduction by Sandi Toksvig.

The odd women (Gissing)

I have to say that I have struggled long and hard with so very many of the victorian novels that I have read as part of this venture. However, the perseverence has paid off as I was finally rewarded with a victorian VMC that absolutely gripped my attention, and had me wishing work away so that it was lunchtime/teatime/hometime so that I could carry on reading it.

The novel - The odd women by George Gissing. I think I first heard about this on Darlene's recommendation, but I am quite sure that I have seen it extolled by another of my favourite bloggers recently, and I can't quite remember who. I immediately ordered a copy from Amazon, where it languished until I gave myself a little kick to get on with my Virago TBR (and it's always easier to start with the things that have been there for the least amount of time than those which have been there for ages isn't it?).

When I described the book to my husband, I said that it was a bit like Jane Eyre. I think that it is in the way that Jane Eyre follows a character throughout much of her life and provides endless twists to the plot which keep the reader interested. The odd women is similar in that respect although it follows a number of characters throughout their lives and demonstrates the huge difficulties many women faced in the nineteenth century if they were not able to achieve a happy marriage as independent life was virtually impossible. It also put me in mind of the problem of unmarried women as described in the Persephone published book - Alas poor lady by Rachel Ferguson.

The novel starts with a father talking to his eldest daughter about the need to provide for her and her five sisters on his death, by insuring his life for the sum of £19,000, as their mother has already passed away and they don't really have any relations. Sadly, that night he is killed suddenly before any arrangements have been made and the sisters are forced to survive on their own. It is not long before six sisters are down to three, owing to illnesses and accidents which kill off the other three and we are left with the characters of Alice, Virginia and Monica. They take jobs to try to keep themselves, but not very satisfactorily. The elder two, Alice and Virginia, are well beyond marriageable age by the time the novel gets going and Monica is the only one who has any hope of finding a husband. When she is pursued by Mr Widdowson, even though he is considerably much older than her, he seems like a sensible option rather than having to work at her typing for the rest of her life. Unfortunately, Widdowson is a jealous man and in effect becomes her jailer.

However, despite the story of these three women drawing a very bleak picture of the single woman's life, this is not the whole of the novel. Their experiences are contrasted with those of Mary Barfoot and Rhoda Nunn, early feminists who refuse to believe that women should be dependent on men. Together they run a typing training school to facitate women in their independence as well as opening their house to other women who share their views for discussion.

When I looked at review of this book on librarything I was disappointed that there seemed to be less enthusiasm amongst the reviewers than Darlene and I had felt. I'd hugely recommend this book to any of my readers; if you have read it, please let me know if you agree with my enjoyment of this book or whether you just found it depressing.

It's been published twice by Virago (and also by various other publishers), once with an original green cover (which I own) and once with an italicised green cover. At number 31 in the series it was a very early VMC

The company she keeps (McCarthy)

So I'm sticking to my New Year resolutions and trying to once more make headway with my VMCs. As a treat for my first day back at work, I packed one of my new VMCs that I had been eagerly anticipating - The company she keeps by Mary McCarthy. I absolutely loved The group by the same author, and was hoping for more of the same.

However, rather than focussing on the stories of a number of people, this book is very definitely about one individual, Margaret Sargent. And rather than a straightforward story structure, the book is written in a series of vignettes or almost short story episodes which although appearing unrelated do eventually add up to give us a picture of Margaret. The picture isn't terribly likeable - following a marriage breakup, she leads a promiscuous and bohemian lifestyle. It's less of a story and more of a character study which didn't appeal to me in the way that The group had with its gripping story of girls lives.

It's a new Virago, with a new style cover.

Women in the wall (O'Faolin)

This is another read from a little while ago that I just did not get around to blogging about. I first came across this via recommendation from Jane at Fleur Fisher Reads - Jane wrote a post about books that she wanted to revisit and the list included a VMC which I had not come across, so on the strength of her recommendation I bought a copy from Amazon.

The subject matter seemed to appeal to me - a story set mainly in a convent - I have to say that I find convent life fascinating and there are a number of novels that I have greatly enjoyed with this setting. This one was a little different however, being set in the 6th century.

The book centres around two royal women, one who is forced to marry a Frankish king who has killed her family, and a young girl who is given to the first woman as a child for her to look after. Out of this somewhat awkward situation, the two women come together to found a convent.

I have to say that I did not enjoy this as much as I hoped I would. I think I found the 6th century setting a bit alien (although I have a history degree, apart from my first term studying the Anglo Saxons (for whom I have great affection in hindsight), I concentrated on 20th century history and this is what I prefer to read about). I'm not the greatest fan of historical fiction, but other historical fiction lovers may well enjoy this more than I did.

This has just been published once by Virago with an original green cover.

I have a couple of other VMCs on my TBR pile which were purchased after reading about them on other blogs so I must try to prioritise these over the next few weeks.

Damage (Hart) Sin (Hart) 558 559

Oops - started writing this post back in November, it should have been published at the start of December, and instead it's being published at the start of January. Oh dear :(

I love to get new books in the post, and I am very spoilt by Virago sending me the latest modern classics. It's even more exciting when I get books which are "under embargo", meaning that I can't write about them until a certain date. I find it impossible not to pick them up immediately, so I'm writing this post in the middle of November, to publish at the end of the month - the books in question are being published on the 1st of December. And what a fantastic pair of books they are!

Written by the late Josephine Hart - who died earlier this year - , the two new VMCs are the strikingly titled, Damage, and Sin with their equally striking covers.

Damage is apparently famous for its film, starring Jeremy Irons and Juliette Binoche (I must see that now as I am a big Jeremy Irons fan) and is described on the press release as "one of the most chilling explorations of physical passion and dark, obsessive love ever written". It's not an especially "nice" book due to being so dark but I found the tale of a man who falls in love with his son's psychologically damaged girlfriend absolutely riveting.

Sin somehow seemed slightly less complex than damage, but was another extremely psychological tale. It tells the story of Ruth's resentment and obsession with her elder adopted sister Elizabeth. It's another immensely disturbing tale with considerable tragedy.

I'd come across Josephine Hart before with her Virago published Truth about love which was a tragedy based book about an Irish family which I also found exceptionally gripping, but I'm glad to have had the opportunity to read these two books too. I wouldn't recommend them for a light, entertaining read, but if you want something dark and powerful then they will definitely fit the bill. I was also impressed to see advertisements for these in the press (I can't recall where now)