Random Jottings

Just dropping by….

….I am sorry I have not been on Random cor a week or two. I am getting there and feeling better every day. 5000 Steps today. I could barely manage 300 before the op so delighted.

still reading old favourites and wallowing in crime.

back soon. I promise

Reading fog

Well I am getting there with the new hip.  Walking so much easier. I am doing circuits of our communal gardens using crutches but indoors I am managing with just one or none at all which is hugely encouraging.  I am getting rather bored with it all now and just want to get on with things but I know I have to be patient.   Everyone keeps saying this to me and while I know they are right, it does not help.

And reading. Well, I seem to be totally unable to settle down and read anything for any length of time.  A brain fog seems to descend. Nearly a month now since the anesthetic so I was hoping by now this mental lethargy would have dissipated but I fear not,

I am reading anything that catches my fancy at the moment. I have no plan and I am reading a few chapters of one and then a few chapters of another and it is all a bit annoying. A lot of re-reading as well so I do not have to stretch my mind too much.

Michael Connelly is one of my favourite US authors. He is the creator of Harry Bosch, a detetive with the LAPD and they are punchy, well plotted and well written and I am working my way through them.  He has other characters, one of which is Micky Haller, a defence lawyer, who is Harry's half brother and I really enjoy these with the court room scenes etc.  A film was made of The Lincoln Lawyer with Matthew McConaughey which is slick and so well done and then recently Netflix have a new series which I have watched.   The adaptations work well because unlike some they actually stick to the stories. OK there is the odd difference here and there but the core element remains the same.  I note there is a new Haller coming out in November and I have already pre-ordered it.

This was not the case with a series I watched, again on Netflix, Night Agent.  An agent spends his nights sitting by a telephone which is only used in dire case of emergency. One night it rings and off we go with a conspiracy plot, cover up etc. In other words, the usual.  I watched one episode and realised who the mole was in five minutes.   I decided to read the book by Matthew Quirk and then wished I had not bothered as the book bears no relation whatsoever to the series, though the mole is the same.  I tried another by this author but it was poor stuff and I abandoned it.

So I have a heap of books waiting to be read and I simply cannot be bothered at the moment so book reviews will be somewhat lacking until I am back up to speed.

I was looking at my Agatha Christie shelf and have decided to tackle some of them again. I know the identity of every murderer in every one but at the moment the appeal of Poirot and Miss Marple is very strong.

Back soon

 

Random Hip - I am back

Well here I am, new hip and all and before I embark on this ramble, I would like to say thank you to everyone for your good wishes and messages and emails. I know some of you follow me on Facebook and Twitter and every little thing helps, it really does.

It is now two weeks since the operation and can I make it quite clear now that though it was cheering to hear the following from various friends and neighbours:

• Oh my mum had her hip replaced at 90 and is skipping around like a spring lamb
• Oh my friend had this done and said it changed her life, you will not regret it
• Fantastic news - we will soon have you runing marathons

I have no desire to skip around like a spring lamb; I don’t really want to change my life, I am happy with it, I merely want it to be pain free and finally, I never ran a bloody marathon before, never wanted to, never did and I have no intention of starting now.

Yes I know I sound curmudgeonly.  Tough.

So today is Saturday, though the days have lost any meaning to me over the last couple of weeks. Life is beginning to seem tolerable and thing are getting better.   The Oaks Hospital in Colchester was excellent and the staff wonderful and systems and care admirable, though the amount I was paying I would expect nothing less, and though my bank account has been emptied out I am extremely grateful for the care I received and am still receiving.

I opted in the end for a total anaesthetic – friends of mine had opted for an epidural and sedation but they were the kind of folk who liked to hear what was going on. I have no desire to hear the sawing and hammering that this kind of bone operation entails which guided me to this decision.   One moment I closed my eyes, the next I was aware I was lying in a bed in a recovery ward with a few other patients, nurses and in the background I could hear Abba playing for some strange reason. I concentrated on this like mad and identified the number as “Gimme gimme a man after midnight”, which I thought was singularly inappropriate under the circumstances.   After a bit of a chat with the nurses I was wheeled back to my room where my daughter was waiting for me.  I was as bright as a button and chatty and feeling great which I think took her slightly aback but I took advantage of this as I knew full well that I was on an adrenaline high and it would not last.

Well it didn’t and the night was horrid and painful and I draw a veil over it all.

Next day, the bright and shiny and smiley physio team appeared beaming at my bed side “time to get up and get you on your feet”.  I am pleased to say that my immediate reaction I kept to myself. (Note: reminded me forcibly of the time a young nurse told me, when eight months pregnant, to “hop up on the bed”….)

It did get better as the next two days wore on and I found I could stagger to the loo with the crutches and begin to manage.   There was one night when I could not sleep for this grinding noise and the sound of running water and I buzzed one of the lovely night staff to investigate. Seems the top up seat which rested on the loo, which was movable, had caught the side of the bottom seat and, as it was an automatic flush, thought somebody was sitting on it and flushed and flushed over and over. Took me three hours to work this out.

I have now been home for some ten days and I am constantly muttering to myself be patient Elaine, don’t push it, you will get there but it is difficult to do so.

The first night was horrendous, I am not ashamed to say that I sat up in bed weeping with the pain and talking myself through it.   I thought if I can get through to the morning it will be better and it was. My mantra now is see what it is like in the morning and then carry on.  I am sorry if this sounds like a whinge, I am well aware there are others in hospital in pain and suffering, who are far worse off than me, but one’s world tends to narrow in at times like this and one can become self centered and selfish.

And, in the end, it is teaching me patience, not one of my strongest virtues.  Before I sat down to write this I went through to the kitchen to make tea. I have a walker which I am using when transporting food etc as I am on my own and this is a great help, and while I was waiting for the kettle to boil I stood there and realised for the first time in years, my back was not aching, I was not in pain, I could stand upright and I felt a flood of thankfulness.   The pain that I now have is the pain from the wound where the surgeon had to slice through the muscles and that will heal in time and if I continue with my exercises, which I am doing, will finally go.  (I have checked the scar and it is a work of art. Mind you my backside is black and blue).

I am reading randomly and an odd mixture at the moment as my mind seems fuzzy and I cannot seem to concentrate for very long.  I think this is the effect of the anaesthetic and will disappear, in fact it is getting less each day. So lots of thrillers, cozy crime, romance and just enjoyable stuff. It is all very relaxing.

A few random notes to end with:

Crutches – no matter how well you prop them up, no matter how sternly you tell them STAY, they will always, always crash to the ground as soon as your back is turned.

Rich Tea biscuits – a lifesaver. Nibble on in the night when hungry and nauseous and they settle the tummy in no time. Digestives also do the trick.

Leads and chargers – a friend of mine gave me invaluable advice “Elaine take in the longest leads and charger that you have”. I have a plug with two USB ports in it and that came with me as well as the leads and boy, was I glad I took this advice. My bed was some way away from the electric and it would have been difficult to keep recharging. As it was these two leads were tucked under my pillow and my ipad and iphone were permanently attached.   One night, which was not a good one, I was messaging my daughter in Australia and this cheered me up no end.

I will be back again soon. My daughter arrived from Australia today so she will be with me next week which is something to really look forward to.

Again, everyone, my thanks and though I will not be running a marathon any time in the future, the walking is coming along a treat.

Random Hip

I am going into hospital tomorrow for a hip replacement operation so I may be absent for a week or two. Not looking forward to it but the pain and difficulty walking is now bad so it needs to be done.

back soon!

 

 

 

From my Shelves - Lena Geyer by Marcia Davenport

Apologies for the gap in posts but this has been down to health issues which I will not mention today. I have been indoors a lot and have had fun searching my shelves and re-reading books that I had forgotten I owned. I have also had a clear out and got rid of quite a lot of my collection after asking myself "are you really going to read this" or "are you really going to read it again?" and have been very strict with discarding quite a lot.

One book which I love is Lena Geyer by Marcia Davenport.  I stumbled across it years ago when working at Highgate Library back in the sixties. I had never heard of it and it was rarely taken out but when I spotted it was about an opera singer I was intrigued as I have loved opera all my life regarding it as one of the highest art forms. Re the author:

"Her first novel, Of Lena Geyer (1936, reprinted 1982), is the story of a poor Czech girl and of her ascent to fame and fortune, triumph and tragedy. It is a work of fiction, yet Lena is only partly the child of imagination: she is a composite figure of several singers Davenport had known intimately, among them her own mother. The background of the novel opens a wide vista on the golden age of opera both in New York and in Europe".

Marcia Davenport was the daughter of Alma Gluck, a celebrated American soprano and spent most of her childhood, indeed her whole life, immersed in the world of music and opera.   In the story of Lena Geyer we are introduced to 'real' people.  Lena works with Gustav Mahler at the New York Met who conducts when she sings in Don Giovanni, Lilli Lehmann is her singing teacher and Jean de Reszke is her co-star in Tannhauser. The production notes and details about her performances were so detailed and informative that they sent me scrabbling to the back of the book looking for a non-existent index and reference

When I first read Of Lena Geyer, I knew nothing about Wagner, but once I saw the light and became a devotee, I re-read all the chapters dealing with Wagner performances and found their detail and background information was spot on.  Hardly surprising as Marcia Davenport must have watched all these productions unfolding in front of her.  What an incredible experience and one which makes me green with envy.

Much though I love this story, I do feel that in creating the perfect opera diva in Lena Geyer the author has made her almost TOO talented.  She seems to be able to switch from Puccini, Mozart and Verdi to the  heavier Wagner roles without batting an eyelid, a feat which is well beyond most operatic singers.  To my knowledge, the only singer who did essay this, though I am prepared to be proved wrong, was Maria Callas who sang all the coloratura roles and, in her early years, also sang some Wagner.  She abandoned the heavier German repertoire though for most of her career.

When writing this post I did some Googling and came across a fascinating article about the great Wagnerian soprano, Birgit Nilson, who was stalked for years by a female fan who sent her flowers before each performance and messages containing quotes from 'Of Lena Geyer'.  chilling. Here is a link to an article in the New York Times

I have to say that I cannot think of many books with opera as its background, but I do remember reading the Mills & Boon books of Mary Burchell, pen name of Ida Cook, biographer of Tito Gobbi, who with her sister travelled around Europe attending the opera.  They seemed to be a slightly eccentric pair to put it mildly, neither of them married, both spending their lives indulging their opera obsession,  but during the Second World War, Ida used the income generated from her very successful romantic novelist persona to help Jewish refugees escape to England.  A fascinating and brave pair of women. Article here.

My particular copy came from Highgate public library where I worked many years ago.  Somehow it was recommended for withdrawal as it was never taken out and so took up shelf space.

As to who actually put forward this recommendation, my lips are sealed......

Random Rant - Wimbledon

I have received numerous queries asking if I am going to do a Wimbledon Rant this year. I have, on the whole, found this year's tournament somewhat lacklustre with only the odd excitement and upset to enjoy.  I have not tuned in as assiduously as I usually do.

There was an article in the Daily Telegraph last week regarding the way the Wimbledon Committee treat the tournament and the general feeling that the actual tennis is not as important as the optics and the prestigiousness of the fortnight.   The writer of this piece also lambasted the standard of the commentary.   At the last time of looking there were around 1200 comments on the forum and with no more than half a dozen exceptions everyone was in agreement that this year the commentary has been the worst ever.

Now I have watched Wimbledon for years and the level of expertise and knowledge of the entire commentary team has really gone down.   Sue Barker, a Grand Slam winner and a woman with an incredible knowledge of the game, retired last year.  She had been replaced by the BBC on another programme she had fronted for years, much to the fury of the viewers, and she decided to retire from Wimbledon before she was edged out.   The BBC do not have much time for white women in their sixties.

She was replaced as the anchor woman by one Clare Balding who was a racing commentator and is a horse expert. She also comments on Crufts, the annual prestigious dog show. She has never played tennis, her knowledge of the game seems to be culled from google and most seem to find her acutely annoying.   But she ticks a diversity box which the Beeb are very keen on so that is that.

New to the team this year is Isa Guha who ticks two diversity boxes. She also happens to be a cricket commentator. True.   On the first day of the tournament she was heard asking if there was a difference between playing on a clay court rather than a grass one. Words fail.

The third newcomer ticks another diversity box or two and is, I gather, a presenter of children's tv. I freely admit I have never heard of him. He fronted up Wimbledon Today which used to be an interesting programme but has now turned into a Wimbledon tik tok experience with this guy roaming round the grounds wearing a shirt that looked like it could do with an iron, and burbling into a mike. He says he is a "tennis geek". Well, so am I but that does not mean I am qualified to broadcast on the game.

Then in the commentary box we have a collection of has been ex-British tennis players who have achieved very little but are resurrected every year. I call it the Knackers Yard.  The two most prominent members of this collection are Andrew Castle and John Lloyd.

Andrew Castle once took Max Wilander, in his day, to five sets on the Centre Court at Wimbledon. Andrew lost.   And that is it.  

John Lloyd - John is now an estate agent who lives in Florida.  He is wheeled out each year. He at least does have a Wimbledon title as he once won the mixed doubles. He also has the dubious distinction of being one of Chris Evert's husbands.   And that is it.

Sam Smith - I gather she is an ex Ladies No 1 from the UK. I have no recollection of her. She has a voice that would put you to sleep. And frequently does.

There is talk of Johanna Konta joining the team. Jeez kill me now.

Ok so who else do we have? Martina Navratilova, a woman for whom I have the utmost respect and admiration. Unfortunately, she never stops and has a droning voice that, like Sam Smith, can send you to sleep.

Tim Henman - he has improved over the years but still has the charisma of a newt. But he is a nice guy and he knows when to be quiet so that is an uptick for him.

Note: I should mention that at Queens, just before Wimbers, Castle and Lloyd were in full flow there and they had the addition of Kyle Edmonds, another knackered ex-Brit whose style of commentary was incredibly awful and made Henman sound like the Master of Quick Wit and Repartee.

We have John McEnroe and he is the best of the lot though that is not saying much, but he is witty and knowledgeable and of course, knows all there is to know about the game. He also used to have a great rapport with Sue.

The other American visitor who turns up with monotonous regularity is Tracy Austin.  One wit on the tennis forum I mentioned earlier says she has "the perfect voice for silent movies". It is relenting, it never gives up, it grates, it drives you to screaming pitch. The other night she was partnered with the Sam Smith mentioned above and the two of them did not give up for one moment. In fact, I wondered if they were watching the match at all.   I had to mute the sound in the end.

Well I could go on and on and on about the stupidity of the scheduling, the cut off in the evening so matches are left in the balance, the start time on the Centre Court which is purely to allow the fat cats, debenture holders and corporates time to stuff their faces and pig out on strawberries before entering and taking up their FREE seats.

And the Saturday of the first week when the Royal Box is filled with Z level Slebs who are announced portentiously by La Balding and who we all have to clap and cheer. It is toe curlingly awful and I avoid it like the plague.

Well I think that is it except I have to mention the trite and tedious interviews on court after every game when the player is asked "what does this mean to you". I long for the day when the players responds "actually I don't give a shit I just want to go off and have a shower". It will never happen of course but wouldn't it be wonderful if it did?

We are headed for the inevitable final between Djokovic and the newcomer Alcaraz (I keep calling him Alcatraz) who I am already finding annoying with his constant fist pumping.

FInally, yes really finally, Roger Federer. He may not be gracing the courts any more but he graced the Royal Box and was seated next to the Princess of Wales last week. Oh he loved it. He stood up, he waved, he preened, he soaked up the adulation. I am suprised he did not bless us all.   

He then spent most of the afternoon sucking up to POW.  The camera kept zooming in on Mrs Federer.   She did not look happy. In fact if I could have added a balloon coming out of her mouth I am pretty sure it would have said "just wait till I get you home".

Hilarious.

From my Shelves: Diary of a Provincial Lady E M Delafield

This book always makes my list of top ten favourite titles.   Others may come and go but the Diary of a Provincial Lady is always there and always will be as I can never imagine tiring of reading it.  

I start reading it and the familiar phrases unfold before me. The extract below from the beginning of DOPL never fails to make me smile. Lady Boxe has called and finds the Provincial Lady planting indoor bulbs. 

"Do I know she asks, how very late it is for indoor bulbs?....Do I know that the only really reliable firm for hyacinths is Somebody of Haarlem? Cannot catch the name of the firm which is Dutch but reply Yes, I do know but think it my duty to buy Empire products. Feel at the time, and still think, that this is an excellent reply. Unfortunately, Vicky comes into the drawing room later and says "O Mummie, are those the bulbs we got at Woolworths?"

Priceless.

It is difficult to put into words just why I love this book so much. The humour is not laugh out loud but ironic and understated and I relish each sentence.

I have an old Virago edition of DOPL which has all the four volumes in one and I have frequently read them one after the other as once I start I simply have to go on. There is an introduction from Nicola Beaumann (of Persephone Books) with which I disagree as she says it would be a 'disservice to sit down and read the four Provincial Lady volumes straight through. Because they were written as weekly instalments, repetition and exaggeration are inevitable'.

I find when I start reading I do tend to go straight through and read the lot. Rather like binging on West Wing or Game of Thrones (not that I have watched the latter...), sheer indulgence.

As mentioned I have the Virago copy published in 1983, one of the wonderful iconic Green Covers.  It is falling apart and getting very dog eared. I was fortunate enough to come across a more or less brand new copy several years ago languishing in a corner of a charity shop. I pounced immediately. But, have I binned the old one?  No I cannot bear to part with it. 

Please note husband Robert asleep in the chair over the Times. He spends a lot of time doing this....

There is another title The Provincial Lady in Russia. This was, initially, a series of articles for a  newspaper and not meant to form part of the Provincial Lady canon, but a canny publisher after seeing how popular the DOPL was decided to gather these pieces together and published them. They are very very funny.

I am waiting to hear a date for a hip operation, hopefully in the next month or so, and though I gather the nursing staff get you out of bed and running a marathon post-op I am sure I will have some time for reading and the Provincial Lady will keep me going.

At the moment cricket and Wimbledon are on television so expect a rant soon....

Random Ramble

Just dropping by as life at Random Towers is a bit drear at the moment.  I have had arthritis for some time but it has been manageable.   However, in the last six months it has worsened and I am now in need of a hip replacement as I am finding it impacting on my mobility and life in general.   This extra difficulty has followed on from my attack of shingles which has left me feeling fatigued and tired and generally fed up. Throw into the mix that the pollen count has been high this week and I have had itchy eyes, unable to breathe and sneeze all the time, and you will understand why I am a Grumpy Old Bag right now.

I am taking steps to get things sorted. However, with months to wait before I see a consultant and then at least a year to wait for an operation, I have to raid my savings and pay to have it done.  As I have paid into the NHS for over fifty years and hardly every called upon them (for which I am grateful) it galls me that now when I do need them they are not there. The stupid thing is that if I fell over and broke that hip I would be rushed to hospital and be dealt with straight away. The thought did cross my mind that perhaps I should hurl myself down a flight of stairs but that sounds a tad extreme......

So what have I been doing - well very little. I was due at Queen's today to watch the tennis but had to cancel as I know I could not cope with drive, Tube and stairs.  On the bright side, the pollen count is lower today and I can breathe so will watch at home and have strawberries and cream at the ready.

I have also had to cancel a cruise to Australia which I had booked for the New Year. If I go private, and that is looking likely, then I hope to have the operation later this year so a cruise so soon is out of the question. I have spoken to the cruise line and they were very helpful and said that my deposit could be used against another cruise and so I was pretty pleased about that. I rang them this morning and have arranged an eight day trip down the Norwegian Fjords for next summer and as my deposit was pretty hefty I only have a small amount to find. So delighted with that and something to look forward to.

I am also going to Austria with the family for a week at the end of July and though I won't be terribly active it will be lovely to spend time with them.   I have arranged help at Gatwick as I cannot traverse the endless corridors and getting through security etc so all will be ok.

So on balance, I should not moan.   My last post re Nice Books brought forth lots of replies all of which I am most grateful to receive, and I am continuing with same this week. I am working my way through the Fairacre books by Miss Read, having enjoyed her Thrush Green chronicles last year, and they are simply delightful and suit my mood at the moment.

I am also reading a series of books by Francis Lloyd - the Detective Inspector Jack Dawes series. There are ten of them and available in two tranches on Kindle. They are really good. Well written, well plotted and also funny. I recommend them.

And, in honour of it being fifty years since Virago publishers started I have pulled down one of their "Green"  books with those iconic illustrations and am going to embark on their omnibus edition of Diary of a Provincial Lady by E M Delafield which I absolutely love and will be posting about soon.

In the meantime, tennis awaits.

I hope you are all enjoying the lovely weather.

Back soon

Thoughts on "nice" books

"giving pleasure or satisfaction; pleasant or attractive:"

This is the dictionary definition of the word nice.  I feel that sometimes this particular word can be used in a derogatory manner or to intimate something bland and uninteresting.  But, as you can see from above, it can mean precisely what is says - giving pleasure or satisfaction.

As I get older I find that my interest in books that are described as "searing" "visceral" "stunning" "brutal" is nil. Even when younger I avoided titles so described because, quite frankly, why be made miserable?

Over my reading/blogging life I have been sent a huge assortment of books and have struggled with many of them. That is not to say they were not brilliant or well written. Au contraire, one can hardly level this kind of criticism at the likes of Margaret Atwood, Barry Unsworth, Kingsley Amis etc.   But I have never wanted or wished to return to them or to re-read them. Once is enough. I remember reading Possession by A S Byatt, a real tour de force but once I had finished it I felt a weariness of spirit and an exhaustion and I cannot say I enjoyed it. I might appreciate it but I did not love it.

And then I tried The Children's Book by the same author and honestly, I thought It. Would. Never. End.   This was one book that I really went to town on - I normally will not give a bad or withering review because I always remember that because I do not like a book does not mean others will feel the same. However, I was heartened after writing my post - here- by comments agreeing with me. I also felt that A S Byatt would hardly notice my thoughts.

So it is with a feeling of Sod it who cares that I now read Wot I Like. And Wot I Like turns out to be "nice" books.   I have not been well recently and also now have to deal with a bad hip and the likelihood that I will need an operation in the not too distant, and it is with relief that I have turned to relaxed reading.

When I worked at a library in Highgate, London many moons ago I was a teenager with skirts barely covering my bum, wearing boots and false eyelashes and full of myself.   The readers who came in were lovely but they were mainly of a certain age and would ask me for a "nice" book. I knew nothing but I did note that Miss Read and D E Stevenson featured largely in their choices, ditto Dorothy Whipple.   My nose was permanently turned up. But guess what I am reading at the moment - yep, Miss Read and D E Stevenson.  

Last year I read all the Thrush Green books by Miss Read.  There was an offer on Kindle for the whole lot some time back for the princely sum of 99p so I bought them and then forgot all about them.  And then one day I was feeling at a loose end and I opened then up and found all the wonderful illustrations were there too. I read them all over a week and absolutely loved them.   It also added to my pleasure when I discovered that the current price for the whole lot on Kindle was now nearly £40....

I have just started the Fairacre series and have most of them on my shelves waiting my attention.   This paragraph from The Village School made me laugh:

"I am heartily sick of books from Caxley library - all termed 'powerful' by their reviewers (and in future I shall steer clear of any with this label) which give the suffering reader a detailed account of the bodily functions of their main characters.  If the author has such a paucity of ideas that he must pad out his 300 pages with reiterated comments on his hero's digestive, alimentary and productive systems, I am sorry for him but do not see why he should be encouraged"

This could have come straight out of Diary of a Provincial Lady by E M Delafield (of which more another day).

I wrote about D E Stevenson a while back and here is the link. And I see I have used the word nice again!

And then D E Stevenson.  Over the last year or so I have read every single one. Her output was prodigious and, naturally, there are a few that I think are a bit poor and overwritten. Hardly surprising when you write so many and I daresay your publishers are breathing down your neck. But the vast majority of them are sheer delight and it is wonderful that they are now nearly all back in print. I remember a visit to Hay on Wye some while back when I was hunting second hand copies but now they are easy to find.  Dean Street Press have quite a few titles and Persephone Books have published the Miss Buncle books.  And the good thing about them is they pay rereading. I have not tired of doing so and reach for one when I need to be quiet and happy.

Dorothy Whipple was another popular author which made my nose turn up but oh how wrong I was.  Persephone Books now have all her titles in print and they are an eye opener. Yes, they are enormously entertaining and easy to read, but do not fall into the trap of thinking they are facile. They are not. They are positively Austenian in their dissection of human frailties and life.  See my earlier thoughts here

And then there is Richmal Crompton - author of the William books which dogged her all her life and which over shadowed her adult books.  Many of these long out of print titles are now available so another author to look out for.

So all Hail to Nice Books.  They should be given the respect they deserve. And don't start me on the way Romantic novels are treated.  That really gets my dander up. 

I once had an argument with a man (well it would be) who said they were a load of tripe and brought up the name Mills & Boon. I pointed out to him that they were a difficult publisher to persuade to publish your writing. I also said that most novelists are proud of producing a book a year. DId you know said I that with Mills & Boon you have to write three or four a year? Could you manage that? Did he have the discipline and the capacity to do so?  He weakly responded that they were all badly written at which point I got really cross and asked if he had read any. Of course he had not. I then asked him if he had read Dan Brown and he said yes. My response to this was that if he thought that was well written then he had no qualifications whatsoever to pontificate on romantic novels.

At this point he retired from the lists, with his wife who had been standing watching and listening, saying "I told you not to argue with Elaine"

Victory was mine.  Everyone should read what they want and not have to be sneered at by others. I admit I used to when I was young and stupid but no more.

This has turned into a bit of a rant. Do forgive me.

I am off to make a cup of tea and return to Fairacre.

A Heyer week

After a brief mad moment when the sun shone and I thought the summer had begun to arrive this quickly passed and I am currently sitting here in my living room with a jumper on and a hot water bottle at my back as it is bitter cold.  Getting so fed up with this weather.

After my last From my Shelves which was a Civil Contract I decided to give it a re-read and, once again, could not put it down and it confirmed my thoughts that it is her best book. I know that some do not like it because it is not as light and funny as some of her others and there is no Alpha Male hero, but I tend to think of it as Heyer's Mansfield Park, a book which is not lovable at first but which I find grows on one.

I then had a bit of a binge and read Bath Tangle, Cotillion, Frederica, A Quiet Gentleman and this morning started Venetia which I have not read for a long time.   I have also reaquainted myself with the Kloester biography of Georgette which made interesting reading. I had not read it for a while and I remember there was a very ill natured and cutting review of it in the Guardian (well it would be, I cannot any journalist working for that paper admitting they read Heyer) which roused the anger of a horde of Heyer fans, me included.

Heyer is just a damn good writer.  The flow of the narrative, the dialogue, the wit is simply amazing.  In Frederica, and now in Venetia, she is at her very best when her heroines are thinking and their thoughts, doubts and fears are placed before us.   The admirable tightness and cleanlliness of the writing is simply wonderful.  I have said before that I love clean writing, no fuss, no frills but perfectly placed and no hyperbole or extravagences.   P D James does precisely the same (incidentally I am re-reading her Dalgliesh books as well just for this).

As I have already mentioned Georgette is very very funny. In one of her letters to her publisher she says "I should be shot for writing such nonsense". Au contraire.

One of her funniest books is Cotillion. Kitty Charing, an orphan being brought up by a miserly guardian is told that she has to choose a husband from her assorted "cousins" or she will be left no money when her guardian dies.   They all arrive at the house in the country, save one, Jack, a fascinating Out and Outer for whom Kitty nurtures a secret passion.

She decides to run away but bumps into Freddy Standan another cousin who had been tricked by Jack into making this journey.   Kitty manages to persuade Freddy to offer for her and pretend to be engaged to her in order or her to have some time in London. 

There then follows a completely delightful farrago of misunderstandings, adventures and sheer fun ending up with the entire cast of characters in a vicarage in the country and involving a run away marriage.

Those of you who have read Cotillion will understand what I am saying. Those of you who have not, please do so.   If you do not fall in love with Freddy I shall be most surprised.

And the good thing is now I have embarked on this re-read I have many more to go. I might tackle Sylvester next...