Random Jottings

Wuthering Heights - a re-read

You may recall I was trying to reread Wuthering Heights a few weeks ago when I was laid low with a bad reaction to my Covid jab and a brain fog descended. So the fog has now lifted but then I was stricken with severe back pain and have been staggering around like Quasimodo.  As I lay prone I decided I would return to WH and finish it.

Now I am making a solemn promise and it is one I will be able to keep with no problem. I am NEVER going to read this book again. NEVER.

Way back in my teens I discovered the Brontes, ok well it was Jane Eyre, but that fascinated me and set me off on an interest that has never waned. Over the years I have read practically every biog, crit or article I could find re this family. I have visited Haworth several times, I have walked on the moors and the love of all things Bronte has never left me.

But there is an exception and this exception is called Emily.   Charlotte seemed to hold her in awe and admiration and reverence and I could never understand why.  This sister seemed to dominate and hold a position in the family that was all encompassing. She and Anne seemed to be very close (but bear in mind that against all opposition Anne went out to work and stayed at work for years, more than any of the others managed to do. Getting away? Just a thought).  It always struck me that the sisters were afraid of her and after reading Wuthering I can understand why.

Pretty sure that other scholars with finer minds than mine (not hard) have come to the conclusion that Catherine Earnshaw is Emily.  She has all the characteristics: wanting her own way in everything, seemingly terrorising weaker characters than herself, selfish, yes selfish, and caring for nobody.   This sister has been portrayed as this wonderfully strong character, the heart of the family who stayed at home looking after her father and sistsers. My feeling is that this is precisely what she always wanted. Safe and powerful in her own domain. She ventured forth to Brussels with Charlotte where she disliked and was disliked and soon came home again.  In the school run by the Hegers she was relatively unimportant. 

People have queried where did Wuthering Heights come from? A spinster virgin living in a remote Yorkshire village.  If, as I do, you view Catherine as Emily as I have already mentioned above, then it seems she is consumed all the time by anger and fury and wishes to hurt as many people as she can. And boy does she do it in spades in WH.  Heathcliff may arrive as a surly boy but the reason he grows into this brutal vicious man is down to the way he is treated, not just by Hindley but by Catherine who rejects him "it would degrade me to marry Heathcliff".  The heart of all the troubles and anger and brutality emanates from Catherine and trying to fathom out just how and why she does it remains an eternal mystery.

My first reading of this was when I was a teenager and probably did not understand it and so I re-read it some years later. I still found it repulsive. So I left it for a long long time and then tried again, feeling perhaps I could bring a more mature focus to a work that is regarded as a masterpiece.  No well I still loathe it.  Every single character is venal, brutal (sorry to keep using this word cannot think of another) weak, stupid and deeply unpleasant.

And yet there are those who view Wuthering Heights as a towering love story.  Why? The film with Olivier and Merle Oberon is of its time and Olivier speaking incredibly posh English is clearly totally wrong, but this vision of the running across moors calling "Cathy" "Heathcliff" seems to have given their love a charm that is singularly lacking.

I went online to find out what others thought of WH and was quite astonished at the various comments but the one that made me laugh and with which I totally agree came from the author Anne Tyler in an interview with the Guardian:

"I somehow made it to adulthood without reading Wuthering Heights but then I found out that several of my women friends considered Heathcliff their all time favourite romantic hero. So I read about three quarters of it as a grown-up and immediately developed some serious concerns about the mental health of my friends"

I could not have put it better.

And I didn't...

The Palace Papers - Tina Brown

Well I am back and thankyou to everyone who has left me kind comments and also emails. I really appreciate your thoughtfulness.

A brain fog descended as well and I found I could not concentrate on any serious reading so I was pleased when The Palace Papers arrived.  Totally engrossing, gossipy and unputdownable. I read it in bed with a cup of tea, cosy and comfortable and thoroughtly enjoyed every page.

It is odd how you remember things and all the time I was reading this quote kept coming into my mind. I tracked it down and it turned out to be Kipling “For the Colonel’s lady and Judy O’Grady are sisters under the skin”.

The reason for this is that I am always puzzled at the way in which we still expect the Royal Family to be better behaved and better all round human beings that us – because we do.   I am a grandmother, been married and divorced twice, had relationships with people I should not have done, and done stupid things in my youth. But I have never been held to account or my follies plastered all over the pages of the tabloids.

In the Palace Papers, Tina Brown has shown us quite clearly that the House of Windsor is not so different from us in behaviour and folly.   Feuds, adultery, inter sibling rivalry, jealousy – it is all there.  The Prince of Wales when asked how he thought the public viewed them answered “as a non-stop soap opera” and few could argue with this. 

The author is the former editor in chief of Tatler, Vanity Fair and the New Yorker and a Commander of the British Empire awarded for her services to journalism.  She has obviously done her research and with her media contacts has been the recipient of many confidences and information from those within the Palace.   The family dynamics are laid bare and while I have always been fond of Prince Charles and admired him, after reading this, I feel increasingly sympathetic towards him though he does tend to go on a bit and feel sorry for himself. A trait inherited in spades by his younger son.   

In his interview with Jonathan Dimbleby who wrote his biography, the Prince accused his mother of being distant and his father being a bit of a bully.   We are told that the Queen was deeply hurt by this and the author has no hesitation is saying because Her Majesty probably realised it was true. She also made the point that in a tv programme about the Duke of Edinburgh shortly after he died, Charles was reminiscing abut his father and the main thrust was that his father was always “showing him how to do things” and “exhorting him to get on with it”. It was said with a smile but it had obviously not been forgotten.

I have never been a member of the Cult of St Diana and the more I read about her the more I feel for Charles. If ever a disaster was in the making it was their marriage.   Diana was damaged by her childhood as was Charles and neither of them could help each other and the more Diana lashed out the more Charles retreated and the worse it got. 

(Funnily enough I came across her earlier book the Diana Chronicles in a charity shop the other day and picked it up and after reading that my reaction was to feel for Charles even more. He was not without blame of course, but he just could not cope with somebody like Diana)

The two children suffered as we all know by now but I find it hard to forgive Diana for her Bashir interview in which she traduced her father to millions of viewers with no thought as to the feelings of William and Harry.   We now know Bashir deceived her and we are also meant to believe she regretted the interview.  Tina Brown makes it clear that Diana felt nothing of the sort and was gleeful that she had done it.

The author is pretty dismissive of the behaviour of Harry and Megan or Ginge and Winge as they are known in some tabloid quarters, but at the same time tries to be fair to Megan aware that an American actress coming to join the Royal Family and live in the UK would find it a difficult.   She makes the point, however, that Megan did not even bother to try.

And so it continues. It is a never ending family saga which will  be eternally intriguing and fascinating to most of us.  I have to make the point that compared to previous Kings and Queens, the current members of the House of Windsor compare quite well to the lives of earlier occupants of  the throne. 

We should be grateful that at least George V did not have six wives………..

Random Jab

Just dropping by to say I will be absent for a few days.  I had my booster jab at the weekend. I have had mild reactions to earlier ones but this has laid me low. Feeling nauseous, shivering and shaking, headache. Yuk. A brain fog seems to have descended as well. I have written this post three times and each time it has vanished into the ether and I am sitting her saying Get a Grip.

I have abandoned my current book which is a reread of Wuthering Heights which I have not looked at for over thirty years. Why am I doing this? Answer comes there none and I just cannot cope with Heathcliff and Cathy at the moment. Kindest thing I can say about them is they are a pair of crashing bores.  Reading the papers and the trial of Johnny Depp and his ghastly ex, the similarities struck me straight away…

so back to D E Stevenson.

that’s better…

back soon

Easter Ramble

As I write this the sun is shining, the sky is blue and, finally, the feel of Spring is in the air. Mind you, I thought that some weeks ago and we then had snow so fingers crossed.

I have had a busy couple of weeks.  Oh this is a ramble by the way and probably not of any literary merit whatsoever so if you want to nip off and scoff your Easter eggs then please feel free. 

I live in a small flat with no storage whatsoever, and I mean none. What I did have was a space filled with a water tank and a huge old fashioned water heater - bit like the old coppers washing used to be done in years ago - and every time I looked at it I thought what a waste of space. So I bit the bullet and have had them taken out and a small electric wall heater installed.  It was a three day job and I made copious use of local coffee shops and wifi while it was going on. Shelves added and flooring laid down and then I tackled it with a pot of white paint as it had not been touched for years.  I was up a ladder dealing with all of this and, bearing in mind my limited mobililty these days, made sure I had my phone nearby just in case I toppled over backwards. I tucked it in my bra to be on the safe side. I also tiled the shelves.   Here are a couple of pics, before and after for your delectation and delight - actually it is after and before as the photos have swapped...

All in all a productive day and all well. I then sat down and dozed off in my armchair to be woken by my landline ringing. Got up to answer it. My left foot had gone to sleep while I napped and collapsed under me, my ankle wrenched sideways and I crashed to the floor. Dear Readers, it hurt. Boy did it hurt.  I decided not to move and wait for the pain to subside and then sat up gingerly and checked that I had not broken anything.  Long story short I ended up with a pack of frozen peas on my ankle which had assumed alarming proportions and had turned the most hideous shade of black/blue.

A week later and it is more or less back to normal but I found it shook me up and hurt my back, where I have arthritis, and my walking has been painful. Had a chat with my daughter who urged me to use a stick and realised that this was sensible. I don't like it. Purely my pride and the realisation that I am no longer a lively young thing made me feel pretty low this week and I freely admit I had a little weep. BUT, onwards and upwards and I have been online checking out walking sticks and am amazed at the variety on offer. I already have one which I bought several years ago when I had ripped a tendon in my left leg and needed it, but I have decided that if I am going to use a stick then I am going to Do it With Style. I am looking at leopard print ones and striped ones but this one caught my eye. Out of stock at the moment so I have asked to be told when it is back. 

And, believe it or not, I have managed to read a bit as well though I have found it hard to concentrate.   For some time I have been receiving recommendations from Amazon on the strength of You read this so you might Like this and the name Mark Herron kept popping up. Seemed to have a huge following on Amazon and a lot of fans.  Then a new series called Slow Horses, based on his first book, appeared on Apple TV.  Slough House is a place where old, burnt out and useless spies and spooks are sent to while away their days.  Gary Oldman plays the head of this group, Jackson Lamb, and it was this casting that made me decide to take a look.   With impeccable timing Apple TV offered me a three month free trial which I grabbed straight away and will use to watch this. It is very downbeat with a mordaunt wit and I am thoroughly enjoying it.

Needless to say I have started reading the books and there is one character, a member of Parliament, who is obviously based on Boris, our Beloved Prime Minister, though this has been toned down a bit for the TV series.....

Not sure these books are for everyone, the language is a bit fruity at times, but so witty and funny at others that it balances it out. There are eight of them and I am now on No. 4.  I am doing my usual motor through a series and then will have to be patient for the next one.

OK so a ramble and I am off to Cambridge tomorrow but thought I would drop in and wish all of you a lovely Easter and, as always, my thanks for visiting and commenting. I don't blog as much as I used to but I am determined to keep going as I enjoy doing it so much, so do bear with me if you will.

Queen of our Times - Robert Hardman

Another busy week, this time on the domestic front with new boiler and water tank and the ensuing disruption, and I have been reading this in between the work being undertaken, and enjoying it very much indeed.

There have been so many books written about Her Maj and, I daresay, there will be more in the future, and striking the right note is always tricky. Royal biographies written back in my younger days were mere hagiographies and the impression given was that the subject was a perfect human being, a saint and we should grovel at their feet.  On the other hand you can find some which are quite unpleasant and take delight in showing the feet of clay. One in particular, is a book written by Craig Brown about Princess Margaret which was a total hatchet job and totally and unneccessarily vicious and which gave away more of the character of the author than the Princess.

Robert Hardman has written an admirable book.  It is refreshingly lacking in hyperbole and he has a journalistic style which makes for easy reading.  I think most of us here in the UK are aware that the Queen is not going to be with us much longer and it will be difficult to imagine her not being there. She has been on the throne longer than Queen Victoria and for generations she has been an immovable figure - we just accept that she is around somewhere and I, for one, find it very reassuring to have a stable figure in society.  Having a King rather than a Queen is going to take some getting used to.

I do not think there is any need for me to go into detail of the book's content as it has all been in the public eye for so long but one thing that struck me when reading is the non-stop, never ending daily duties to be done.   Living in a palace and having all the comforts and wealth you could possibly need sounds wonderful but it is not a life that I would find appealing. Always in the public eye, having to smile and be welcoming when your feet might be aching and you have a splitting headache, being constantly criticised and never ever being able to answer back, it would drive me mad.

One of my favourite moments of the Queen's entire reign is when she took part in a James Bond sketch for the opening of the Olympics in 2012.  When Daniel Craig as James Bond walked into the palace I, and everyone else, was expecting a look alike and then when Her Maj turned round, smiled and said "Good evening Mr Bond" I let out a shriek along with millions of others. I remember Twitter crashed. Here is the video:

 

I am an unashamed royalist and I admire the Queen enormously. Watching her at this week's memorial service for the Duke of Edinburgh and seeing her on the verge of tears, one has to remember she can feel grief just like everyone else.

An excellent biography and well worth reading in this her Platinum Jubilee Year.

British Library Crime - Lorac, Lorac and Bernard J Farmer

I seem to have fallen into a pattern of one post a week and I keep feeling this will not do but I have had another of "those weeks" with loads on and a few irritants. Next week is looking a bit dubious as well as I am having a boiler and hot water tank ripped out tomorrow and it is all going to be a bit chaotic.

So I am taking the chance now of sitting down with a cuppa and telling you of my latest crime reads.  I can assure you that I read quite a lot of thrillers that are NOT published by the British Library, but this week the ones I have perused have all, coincidentally, been from their Classic Crime List.

Two were by E C R Lorac, who I really enjoy and so glad that the BritLib discovered this writer. However, this particular title left me feeling really disappointed. These Names Make Clues got me totally bogged down.

Chief Inspector Macdonald was invited to a treasure hunt party at the house of a publisher.  He has misgivings but is persuaded to accept and joins in along with other guests who are all thriller writers disguised on the night under literary pseudonyms.   Naturally, there is a murder and the victim, who was there under the name of 'Samuel Pepys' is found seemingly dead of a heart attack. Well we know it was not.  

The blurb on the back of this title states 'amid the confusion of too many fake names, clues, ciphers,and convoluted alibis, Macdonald must unravel a truly tangled case'.

I can honestly say that at the end after another murder or two (and I still have no idea why they were killed) I felt totally discombobulated and, which is worse, bored.  A shame. This is the first Lorac I have not enjoyed.

It was with some relief, therefore, that I turned to another by this author, Post after Post Mortem which was so much better and so much more interesting. "The Surrays and their five children form a prolific writing machine, with scores of treatises, reviews and crime thrillers published under their family name"

Ruth Surray is found dead after an evening at the Surray's house.   A suicide note is left and it is clear that she was deeply unhappy and depressed and the coroner reaches a verdict that she took her own life.  But then a few days after her death, her brother Richard receives a letter from his deceased sister which had been delayed in the post, and this casts doubt on the verdict.

Much more concisely written and held together and, though I guessed who the murderer was, it was not obvious and the reader was led astray on the way.

Death of a Bookseller by Bernard Farmer was the third I finished this week. This is the hundredth title in this series so it is fitting that a book about rare books is published by one of the great Libraries.  I had never heard of the author, as with so many of these rediscoveries, and though some have left me cold, I rather enjoyed this one. The main reason is not the fact that it is about a bookseller and crammed with details of the internecine rivalry between booksellers and buyers, fascinating though that is, but the wonderful character of Sergeant Jack Wigan.  The sergent strikes up a friendship with a bookman, Michael Fisk, who he escorts home when he meets him having had too much to drink.   Fisk had been celebrating the acquisition of a rare book, Keat's own personally inscribed copy of Endymion.  Wigan develops a keen interest in book collecting and later, when Fisk is found stabbed to death and the Keats book missing, he aids the CID in their investigation.

Wigan is a kindly, dogged and honest policeman who is convinced that the wrong man has been arrested for the murder and enlisting the help of others in the book trade sets out trying to save the accused from the hangman.

I found the book slightly fantastical in places, there is mention of the occult and raising demons, but on the whole it is well written and intriguing.  But it is Wigan who makes this well worth reading. A character one can warm to.  I gather there are other titles awaiting republication so I do hope the British Library will let us have these as well.

I was pleased to see that Martin Edwards who writes the introduction, had likened this well crafted book to those written by George Bellairs, another discovery for me. I had had exactly the same thought...

Honest.

Miss Read - another rediscovery

I freely admit to struggling with my reading and blogging at the moment.  I know from comments I have received both off and on blog that others feel the same.  But I remind myself that I am lucky, I have my home and my family and I am not suffering as are others in the world at the moment and I remember my mum's mantra "you have just got to get on with it". She was, and is, right.

I posted about D E Stevenson a week or so ago and had a huge response here on the blog and on social media. I ended the post by saying that she had been accused of writing "nice" books and I said, we could do with "nice" right now.   And so I am delighted to bring you more "nice" though I do think the use of that word infers mediocrity and a lack of inspiration.   Well I disagree and in the last week have rediscovered Miss Read.

"Miss Read, or in real life Dora Saint, was born 17 April 1913. A teacher by profession, she started writing after the Second World War for Punch and other journals and as a scriptwriter for the BBC. She is the author of many immensely popular books, including two autobiographical works, but it is for her novels of English rural life for which she is best known. The first of these, Village School, was published in 1955 and Miss Read continued to write about the fictitious villages of Fairacre and Thrush Green until her retirement in 1996. In the 1998 New Year Honours list she was awarded an MBE for her services to literature". 

Miss Read was another of those authors, along with D E Stevenson and Dorothy Whipple, who I used to stamp in and out on a regular basis when working in the library system. I have already said that my teenage lip curled at these books but now I know better and have read many by these authors over the last twenty years. And lovely it is that so many of them are now available, and here I mention Dean Street Press (I know I go on about them but I love them) who, as I write, only have one Miss Read title on their list. MORE PLEASE.

If you glance at the side of the blog you see all the books I have recently read and you cannot fail to miss that I have read all of the Thrush Green books by Miss Read in the last few weeks. I have had them on my Kindle for quite some time.  There was an amazing offer for the entire books in this series for 99p and that could not be ignored.  And there they sat until the time was right for me to discover them.

And I have simply loved them. The village of Thrush Green is set in the Cotswolds and it is clear that the author, like DE Stevenson, loves the country and is a keen and loving observer of the changing seasons in which they both delight.

Having read them all, in order, one after the other I have been able to become totally immersed in the comings and goings, loves and deaths, of the characters and see how they have developed the more I read.   In the very first title, we meet Ella and Dimity, and from the delightful illustrations (which are included in the Kindle edition) Ella is a large, masculine, tweedy, chain smoking overbearing personality, and Dimity (perfect name for her) runs around after her friend and putting up with her rudeness and untidiness.  The new local doctor does not care for her and this is made plain.   But over the series we learn more about the relationship between this odd couple and it becomes clear that Dimity has a strength of character and determination that is easy to overlook.   My personal feeling is that Miss Read changed her mind about these two characters and took them off in a different direction. The difference in their friendship at the end of the series is most marked.

I decided that I would look out more Miss Read and the other day I was in one of my local charity shops when serendipidity reared its head. I came across this box set of the Fairacre novels and all for the mighty sum of £3 so they are now on my TBR pile and will be opened soon.

I find there is a wit and humour to the Miss Read books which is not apparent in the DE Stevenson books. This is not a criticism, far from it, but they do add a little salt to the mixture.

"There were times when Richard, despite his brilliant brain, seemed absolutely helpless. Nevertheless, thought Winnie, he had brought a pork pie with him, One must be thankful for small mercies"

Packed full of glorious characters some of whom are positively Dickensian, I urge those of you who are having a reading slump at the moment, and it seems I am not alone in this, to check out Miss Read. 

Note:  I have just checked out the Thrush Green books on Kindle. The entire set which I purchased all those years ago for 99p is now over £50................

Two biographies: Mary Seacole and Queen Alexandra

I have two main titles I wish to highlight today, both are recently published biographies of two different women, but both linked in a curious way.

First up is Mary Seacole by Helen Rappaport.  I am a great admirer of Helen's writing having read several of her titles.  Her books on the Romanovs and, in particular, the story of the Four Sisters, are fascinating and she has a way of making history come alive.  Add to that her excellent narrative style which makes reading so enjoyable, and she is always on my Wanted List, and I mean that in the nicest possible way...

Very little detail is known about the life of Mary Seacole and the full title of this book is In Search of Mary Seacole - the Making of a cultural icon and it is clear that the author has had to put her little grey cells to work in tracking down details of her life all of which seem a little hazy.

I am flagging this title up today as I am only half way through my reading, but I wanted to draw it to your attention and urge you to get hold of a copy as I think you will enjoy it. I know I am.  Helen Rappaport's book is garnering excellent reviews and, as I cannot give it a full review in this post, I am setting out two links below for your information.

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/books/article-10499647/Rebel-nurse-rivalled-Florence-Nightingale.html

https://www.heraldscotland.com/news/19954009.search-mary-seacole-helen-rappaport---eloquent-portrait-extraordinary-woman/

My second biography which has just been published is Queen Alexandra: Loyalty and Love by Frances Dimond and there is a link to Mary Seacole in this book which intrigued me.

It is many years since we had a biography of Edward VII's consort and this recent one is to be welcomed.  Everyone knows about Bertie, his indiscretions, his scandals and, above all, his many mistresses.   A serial adulterer and unfaithful to his wife, he yet seems to have inspired a tremendous love and loyalty from his wife, hence the title, and it is clear that though I am sure there were times when she would wish him to Jericho, there is never a hint of this in her letters and thoughts.

It is easy to forget how young both Bertie and Alexandra were when they married. Barely out of her teens and Bertie not much older, it was mainly brought about by the determination of Queen Victoria to have him safely settled with a wife who would keep him out of trouble. Vain hope and my admiration for Alexandra and the way she coped with him is vast.  Five children, a stiff and painful leg which hampered her all her life and also her deafness meant she had a great deal to contend with and she seems to have adopted a philosophical and positive attitude to life to enable her to cope.

I feel she was rather a possessive and suffocating mother whose style of writing letters to her dear Georgie boy (the future George V) as if he was ten, give the impression of a rather simplistic and childish nature.  She was rather reluctant to allow her daughters to find husbands and wished to keep them close and it is difficult not to understand her desire to have her family close to her when her erring husband roamed far and wide.

Alexandra's love for her husband shines through in every word of her letters and in her references to him.  Queen Victoria approved of her right from the start and though her feelings towards her daughter in law had their highs and lows, she respected her loyalty and supported her through various crises.

This book by Frances Dimond has been long in the making and is clearly a labour of love. It is immensely detailed with daily events and duties meticulously noted and, in case you thought royalty had it easy, a look at the comings and goings, the parties, the banquets, balls, race meets and all that this entails, is quite exhausting to read.   Alexandra found it tough going but Edward loved it.   His problem was that he had nothing to do as his mother kept him locked out of all political and government matters, but when she twitted him about his frivolous existance he replied that as she did not do it and was not seen in public, it was down to him to be visible and social.   He was right and when he did become King his friendships, contacts and knowledge of the world made him an excellent monarch.

After recently reading Jane Ridley's excellent biography of George V, it was good to read these new book and receive a different portrait of his mother.

And very interesting to see that Mary Seacole mentioned:

"Between c1870 and 1872, Alexandra may have met a British-Jamaican woman, Mrs Mary Seacole, who although not officially qualified as a nurse, had greatly helped wounded officers and soldiers behind the lines during the Crimean War, with refreshments and nursing assistance, using traditional Jamaican herbal remedies. .....it seemed that Mrs Seacole was a skilled masseuse who treated Alexandra's knee problems"

Helen Rappaport also mentions this relationship in her book:

"Mary sent a request to a friend who was about to return to Jamaica on furlough to bring back a 'basket of mangoes' as she wanted them for her 'dear Princess' who wished to 'taste Jamaica's mangoes' and when they arrived Mary took them straight to Marlborough House and delivered them personally to Princess Alexandra"

There appear to be a couple of businesslike letters relating to the Seacole Fund in the royal archives but there is not a single reference to this relationship to be found. Nothing in Queen Victoria's diaries, though we must remember that Princess Beatrice did a pretty good job of filleting them out and burning ast quantities of entries. Princess Alexandra left instructions that all her personal papers and letters be burned on her death as did her husband so no chance of following this up any further.

A fascinating link between these biographies of two totally different women.

Random Birthday

My birthday weekend and I am in Cambridge for a few days so no posting till I get back. I was due to arrive today but Daughter No. 2 insisted I drive over yesterday because of the storm due today. I am glad I did as the wind is now really getting up and I would not like to be out driving.

So I am here with iPad and books and all is well.

I am still working my way through D E Stevenson. Currently reading Young Mrs Savage which I am thoroughly enjoying.

 

D E Stevenson - a rediscovered joy

When I was a young mini skirted teenager I worked at Highgate Library in London. It was an old building, one of the Carnegie Libraries and I loved being there surrounded by books all day.  It was a fairly well heeled area and we had a large amount of ‘mature’ ladies who used to come in regularly to change their books. I got to know them all and had some really interesting chats with them.

There were favourite authors whose books went in an out with incredible regularity and one of these was D E Stevenson.  “Such nice books” I was told so often and I smiled and agreed while inwardly feeling slightly superior about it all.  I flicked through one or two but put them to one side as I found them slight and old fashioned.

Now here I have to mention that at the time Iris Murdoch, Sylvia Plath, Penelope Mortimer, Muriel Spark etc were books that were stocked along with shedloads of modern literature.  I have never enjoyed modern literature and this is not something that has crept up on me in old age, I have always felt this way.  I tried to read newly published titles and gawd knows I gave the Booker a try, but found them so unrelenting and, frankly, unenjoyable. I have read Margaret Atwood and A S Byatt and other Booker luminaries and can, with a clear eye, acknowledge their brilliance and the quality of the writing. But here is the thing – I finish them and I feel tired. They wear me out and the final seal of approval for me is do I want to read them again?   And the answer is always no.

So after years of trying so hard to read worthy literature, along with the Viclit and crime novels that I love, I abandoned all attempts to be An Intellectual and thought sod it, I will read what I want.

And one day, I read a D E Stevenson.   And I loved it and then I read another and another and another and I loved them. OK there are a few that are not so good but if you write as many books as she did you are going to have the odd dip now and then.

Well of course by the time I discovered DES all her books were out of print and so I started doing my rummage in second hand book shops. I remember one year going to Hay and coming back with about fifteen titles.  Lovely hard backs and paperbacks with sixties covers that bore no resemblance to the content inside.

Persephone Books, the home of so many of my favourite titles, published two; Miss Buncle’s Book and Miss Buncle Married and I have to say that I think they are two of her best and very funny indeed.  But still a lack of reprints. Bloomsbury published Mrs Tim of the Regiment but just the one and then came to a grinding halt.

(Covers here are Five Windows, Youngs Mrs Savage on the left and The Blue Sapphire, Winter and Rough Weather and The Musgraves on the right)

And then along comes Dean Street Press. All hail to Dean Street Press who I simply adore. Apart from the DES titles they have so many interesting titles in the Murder and Mystery genre as well but at the moment I am awash with their Stevenson books.

D E Stevenson was Scottish and is a descendant of Robert Louis Stevenson. She was born in Edinburgh and seemed to have had a delightful childhood travelling abroad with her parents to France, Switzerland and Italy, which countries feature in her novels.  She married Major James Peploe (nephew to the artist Samuel Peploe) and became an army wife, travelling abroad with him.   Her Mrs Tim books are based on her adventures during this period. I shall be writing about Mrs Tim in a future post.

In an autobiographical note published with the Dean Street reprints, the author herself says the following:

“ Sometimes  I have been accused of making my characters ‘too nice’. I have been told that my stories are ‘too pleasant’, but the fact is I write of people as I find them and am fond of my fellow human beings. Perhaps I have been fortunate but in all my wanderings I have met very few thoroughly unpleasant people, so I find it difficult to write about them”.

I look back and remember how I used to turn my nose up at the ‘nice’ books she wrote. Makes me realise once again that as a teenager, I knew nothing about anything and this now mature lady apologies for being so dismissive of these delightful books which I can now appreciate. Quite frankly, the way the world appears to me at the moment I have become a great fan of “nice” and we could all do with a lot more of it.

Do nip over to Dean Street Press and give yourself the pleasure of buying one, or two or three and sit back, relax and enjoy.

You know it makes sense.