Random Jottings

Painful Friday

Well I have done it again.  A few months ago I was crawling about my flat looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame and now I am in exactly the same position with the same problem. My back. Getting ready to go up to London yesterday when Snap it just went into spasm and I let out a yell as the pain hit me. Spent most of the night on the floor and got up in the morning and it wasn't too bad so off I went - foolishly really as today it is worse.

However, I was meeting a friend and did not want to let him down and a good time was had by all and I managed to survive by throwing pain killers down my throat and drinking lots of tea and smiling. Stayed overnight and when I tried to get up this morning could not move - could only get out of bed by falling out onto my hands and knees and climbing up the wall.  How I managed to get on the train and get home I do not know, but managed it.  There was a nice parcel awaiting me and inside two more of the Daisy Dalrymple books that I enjoyed so much last week, so that cheered me up no end.  Since then I have managed to have a hot bath, getting out with difficulty and am sitting here reeking of embrocation which is strong enough to repel all borders.  In a few minutes BBC4 is repeating a Prom shown earlier this year which featured music from the MGM musicals and which I really enjoyed so that will take my mind off my aches and pains.  It transpires that it is being shown because the BBC received so many requests. When I read this my back nearly had another spasm - the BBC actually listening to its viewers and giving them what they want?  I may need a lie down.

So apologies for rabbiting - normal service re book reviews will be resumed over the weekend.

One lovely thing I must share with you all. Around 5.30 am I was awakened in my hotel room by the sound of clattering hooves and managed to get out of bed and go to the window. There to my astonishment was a cavalcade of horses - ten rows, three across with one rider in the middle of each three and guiding them along. They were obviously from the Queen's Mews some ten minutes ride away and were being taken out for exercise before the traffic got too heavy. This was down one of the main streets of London and there was something magical about seeing them in the early morning, all so elegant and beautiful trotting through the City.

Really made my day.

Agatha Christie's Secret Notebooks - John Curran

This book is manna for all Christie aficionados, of which I count myself as one.  First read her when I was about 13 and have been reading and re-reading ever since.  Last year I read and reviewed an excellent biography by Laura Thompson and really thought that just covered everything about and by her. Then up pops John Curran, an uber-fan of Dame Agatha, who has spent years deciphering an undiscovered cache of notebooks in a tiny room at her family home, Greenway.  There were 73 of these notebooks, with scribbling and plots interspersed with list of Christmas presents and birthday dates, and were largely ignored because Agatha's writing was so difficult to make out.

However, John Curran tackled this task and found that the more he deciphered and the more he became used to the dreadful writing, the easier it became to read it and he found a treasure trove of information.  Plots scribbled down, character's names changed and altered, discarded ideas which turn up later in another novel, different titles, all pure delight to somebody who knows the books well.  I was interested to see that Sleeping Murder, one of the later Miss Marple books, was originally going to be titled, Cover her face or Murder in Retrospect.  Then her American publishers appropriated the latter for The Five Little Pigs so that had to go by the board.  The manuscript was put away for awhile and in the meantime PD James published her Adam Dalgleish novel which  she called Cover her Face so that had to be abandoned as well, and Sleeping Murder was the eventual choice.  Really, this is all trivia but I found it fascinating.

Lots of other snippets of information that I also found intriguing: Death is Folly became Dead Man's Folly; Tragic Weekend became The Hollow; Viper's Point became Ordeal by Innocence and a myriad more examples of minutiae that have come to light in these Notebooks.  Wonderful sentences dashed down as the thought occurred to Dame Agatha: 'Disappearance of actress - strange behaviour of head gardener'. That idea was never used, I wonder why?  'Blonde Millionaire's daughter kidnaps herself so as to get away to marry a young man' - again never used and then the three words 'Infra red photograph'.  There was doubt sometimes who was going to be the detective in a particular title.  Death on the Nile was originally going to be Miss Marple, but Agatha Christie thought this was rather an exotic location for her and turned it over to Hercule Poirot instead.  It was not till A Caribbean Murder that Miss Marple was given an exotic location.

The notebooks were in no order at all - references to different titles are spread out all over the place. John Curran has tried to put them in order by title and as he discusses the various stories, he warns the reader that endings are revealed and the murderer identified.  He makes this very clear so if you don't want to know, then you don't read.  As I have mentioned before, I know the identity of every murderer in every Agatha Christie story (though not all of the short stories) so I had the luxury of being able to read this book through without worrying. 

Of course, the main selling point of this book, although the notebooks are enough to capture the imagination of every Christie enthusiast, is the two 'new' stories discovered, featuring Hercule Poirot.  One of them The Dog's Ball is easily explained - it was never published because, as John Curran says, it is rather trite and instead the theme was expanded later and became Dumb Witness.  The other story, The Capture of Cerebus, is much more interesting.  This was due for inclusion in the Labours of Hercules, eleven short stories all linked, though in some cases somewhat tenuously, with the labours of the Greek Warrior. 

This story features a poorly disguised portrait of Adolf Hitler and in 1940 this was deemed tooo sensitive to publish:

"August Hertzlen was the dictator of dictators. His warlike utterances had rallied the youth of his country and of allied countries.  It was he who had set Central Europe ablaze" and just in case there was any doubt he is later described as "having a bullet head and a little dark moustache".

I must admit that the idea of an Agatha story which I had never read was my main reason for wanting to read this book and I resisted temptation not to turn to it first, but to read the Secret Notebooks first, and save this treat up to the end. 

John Curran is a lifelong devotee of Dame Agatha Christie and is working with her grandson, Matthew Pritchard to set up the Agatha Christie Archive.  This has obviously been a labour of love for him and I, and countless other fans of the Queen of Crime, are immensely grateful to him for carrying this out. I am also delighted to see from his book and from this video, here, that he views Five Little Pigs as her best book as I do too.  Always good when somebody agrees with you!

Totally fascinating and a must for all the Christie fans around the world.

Only problem is, as happens every time I read a biography of a writer, is that I immediately want to re-read the books of the subject and look at them with a new eye.  At the time of writing this means that I have to add Dame Agatha to my list of re-reads which stands at Charles Dickens, L M Montgomery and Edith Wharton. Something tells me I am going to have my work cut out....

Tuesday pic

 
  

Sleepless night, migraine, and then taking my mother shopping so no post today I am afraid. Shattered. Here is a pretty pic instead.

Also, have spent rather a lot of time watching House, Series 6.

Ahem

New Girl on the Coach

As regular visitors know, as well as reviewing books and chatting about opera and music, I also delight and thrill you all with forays into my life, what I am doing, where I am going, weddings, births etc etc and I am always so pleased when I receive comments, both on and offblog, about these posts.

You know that I retired earlier this year, rather forced upon me by the recession, but now very happy about it all and what a relief it is not to get up in the morning and commute any more.  I now have the freedom to do what I like, pension permitting and it is a wonderful feeling.  However, an opportunity has turned up which I am delighted about and though I have mentioned it in passing, thought I would expand a bit further.

I have a good friend, Lynette Allen. I first met her ten years ago when she was training to be a reflexologist and came along to practice on my tootsies.  That was the beginning of a lovely friendship and it is with great admiration I have watched her train as a Life Coach, set up her own business and become a highly successful businesswoman, as well as writing three books (yes I know, makes you want to go stick your head in the oven doesn't it....).  Lynette received her training from Life Coach Meg Reid and a few years ago, as well as maintaining their own companies, they decided to join forces and form the UK Coaching Partnership, for the purpose of training new life coaches.

This has gone from strength to strength and has now reached the stage where they really need help on the admin side.  This is where I come in and where my phone call to Lynette a few months ago and my airy comment 'if you know anybody who wants some part time help do let me know'has now born fruit.   I am taking on the maintenance of their blog (which I can do quite easily as it is also on Typepad), their Newsletter, marketing their courses, keeping databases up to date and a myriad other little bits and pieces that have to be done, but take up an enormous amount of time.

I have only met Meg on a couple of occasions, but when she and Lynette came round to my flat a few weeks ago and Meg homed in on my Persephone books (she loves them and has just written about Miss Pettigrew on her own brand new blog), my DVD collection - Foyle (she loves him); Miss Marple (she loves her), just to name a few, I knew I had found a kindred spirit and could work with her and Lynette.

 
  

I have written and posted on the UK Coaching Partnership blog so do nip over to see what I thought of my attendance at one of their course and what an eye opener I found it. Click here.   Also, do please do check out the other links which are now in my right side bar under the astoundingly original heading, Get a Life!

I have worked in banks, in planning offices, with architects, as a Legal PA in various disciplines, run my own business, been a cook, run a music festival, been (well still am) a mother, soon to be a grandmother, a reviewer and blogger and now it is good to apply my skills to an entirely new area of life about which I know very little.  I am finding it fascinating and hope you will take the time to see what you think about it too.

And, in closing, if you happen to know of anybody who wishes to be a life coach, well....you know where to send them.......

Daisy to the Rescue

In yesterday's post I mentioned 'cosy murders' and how good it was to snuggle up, nice and warm and read books in this category. Well, this is what I did yesterday afternoon, I was indoors, chores done, including sanding down and undercoating a piece of furniture, so aglow with virtue I made a cup of tea and repaired to the sofa with two delightful books by Carola Dunn sent to me by Constable Robinson, and featuring the Honorouble Daisy Dalrymple. I had spotted these in their catalogue, knew nothing about them, but was rather taken with the covers (I am easily pleased) and they very kindly popped a couple of them in the post.

I loved them and now want to read the others in the series and, while they are never likely to feature on the Booker lists, they are perfect reading for a relaxing afternoon. The heroine is Daisy Dalrymple, it is just after the First World War, she has lost a brother and fiance in the conflict and has decided she cannot stay at home, bored and unhappy, but wants to be independent and to make her way in the world.  She is not encouraged in this by her mother who feels that as a daughter of a Viscountess, Daisy should not be lowering herself and mixing with the 'lower orders'.  Despite opposition Daisy has a stint as a secretary and then turns her hand to journalism, obtaining an assignment from a magazine to visit and write about stately homes and, at the beginning of Death at Wentwater Court, we find our heroine on the train nervously anticipating her arrival and wondering what she will find when she gets there.

What she does find is Lord Wentwater, a widower for many years who has recently remarried to a woman much younger than him, Annabel. This is resented by his children, particularly his elder son and heir, James who has set himself up against his stepmother.  Lord Stephen Astwick, a 'cad and a bounder' has a hold over the younger son, Wilfred, and has extracted an invitation to the Court in order to revenge himself upon Annabel who rejected him prior to her marriage. He is aided and abetted in this endeavour by James and Lord Wentwater's daughter, Margery who is fascinated by Lord Stephen and resents his attentions to her step mother.  Daisy picks up on these emotions seething beneath the surface and feels an instant liking for Annabel who is clearly in need of a friend.

So the scene is set: a country house, a collection of suspects, tension abounding and, yes you have guessed it, Lord Stephen is found dead - face down in a freezing lake where he has gone to skate. The ice has clearly given way - but has it?

The second title which I had to hand and read as soon as I had finished this one, was The Winter Garden Mystery and, once again, we find Daisy on her way to write about yet another stately house, this time Occles Hall.  Another cast of mixed characters, Bobbie an old school friend of Daisy's and the daughter of the house, Sebastian her devastatingly good looking brother, the secretary Ben Bradshaw home from the war and suffering from the after effects of mustard gas, his overbearing mother, Lady Valeria and her ineffectual husband, Sir Reginald who spends most of his time safe in his model dairy producing cheese  (this odd couple put me in mind of Lord Emsworth at Blandings and his obsession with his pigs and his fear of his redoubtable sister, Lady  Constance).

Lady Valeria bemoans the fact that finding a decent parlour maid is almost impossible nowadays and that the last one they had ran off with a commercial traveller.  It will come as no surprise to the reader that the very next day, while out on a guided tour of the gardens, Daisy spots a dying bush that has been disturbed and when the gardener investigates, the dead boy of the parlour maid, Gladys, is discovered burried underneath the dying shrub.

I am going to make no attempt to go into all the intricacies and ins and outs of the plots, not sure that I could actually, but these books are enormous fun. Rather too many uses of 'spiffing' and 'good egg' in my humble, but their use all helps to ensure that there is a slightly dotty, frenetic, flapperish atmosphere which makes these stories so agreeable.

But we have to have a detective in a murder story and here we have a lovely one.  Bit of a mixture between Roderick Alleyn and Peter Wimsey, in that they are not the normal clod hopping inspector so despised by the aristocracy, but more of a gentleman.  And so we are introduced to Inspector Alec Fletcher:

"...he rose to his feet. Gentleman or not, he was well dressed in a charcoal suit with the tie of the Royal Flying Corps.  Of middle height, broad shouldered, he impressed Daisy as vigorous and resolute, an impression reinforced by rather intimidating, dark heavy eyebrows over piercing grey eyes.....he smiled, his eyes warming and she noticed that his dark, crisp hair sprang from his temples in the most delicious way.  Altogether he was rather gorgeous, she decided"

There you have it - the attraction between the two of them is mutual, but of course he feels that she is far above him and Daisy doesn't think he will want to bother with someone like her.  Thus, the incipient relationship is set up for forthcoming books.

I am now intent on reading the rest of these as I enjoyed them so much.  Perhaps a nice grovelling email to the publishers is called for.............

Autumn Saturday

The clocks go back this evening and the nights will be getting dark very early and, though I dislike the winter, there is something rather warm and comforting about snuggling down indoors with the curtains drawn and a good book.  I have mentioned earlier that I always want to read Dickens in the winter, never the summer, and I also find that I like reading crime novels as well at this time of the year.  They have to be a certain type, not too blood and guts, but 'cosy' which is a word used to describe some detective novels and which sounds totally contradictory, but there you go.

Have discovered the perfect series which fits this description beautifully and I have just read two and will review tomorrow, but in the meantime I leave you with a photograph taken locally last week - just look at those leaves.  The countryside is looking quite wonderful at the moment.

 

So, nice chicken casserole in the oven, curtains will be drawn soon and then settle down to watch Strictly Come Dancing.  Last week we had the usual dramatic boring walk out by Brendon and Bruce Forsyth losing his temper with one of the judges and telling him off for making personal remarks (this from a man who had just done exactly that about one of the other couples as they were about to dance, and the previous week had made a very dubious joke about another celebrity) and all hell was let loose.  Should be fun - I do have the mute button handy however, which I use extensively, usually when Brucie is telling his appalling ageist, sexist and any other -ist jokes, and also when Alesha Dixon, the new judge, stuns us with her penetrating insight  (You was wicked and You was fierce being but two examples) and her laugh which would shatter glass.  And anybody who knows me and my cackle, yes I know, pot and kettle but I am not inflicting it on millions of viewers each week, nor getting paid £100,000 to do so.....

Mrs Tim of the Regiment - D E Stevenson

Mrs Tim of the Regiment is one of the series recently republished by The Bloomsbury Group, the others being The Brontes went to Woolworths, Mrs Hargreaves, Henrietta's War, Love's Shadow and A Kid for Two Farthings.   D E Stevenson seems to be undergoing a resurgence with the publication of Miss Buncle's Book by Persephone and now Mrs Tim.  I love the tag line for this series "A new library of books from the early twentieth century, chosen by readers, for readers". It is a wonderful thought that not only have these books have  been reprinted because somebody in the publishing business came up with the idea, but also that they decided to ask us, the readers, what we would like to see.  And then to write to bloggers and ask for suggestions...genius.

I have read a lot of D E Stevenson this year, picking up second hand paperbacks on my travels, and enjoyed them.  Some more than others, some are not very good, I have to be honest but I notice these were the titles written towards the end of her life so it ill behoves me to stick my nose up in the air.

Out of those I have read, I have enjoyed the Mrs Tim stories the most and had read two of them before I heard that Mrs Tim of the Regiment was to be one of those in the Bloomsbury Group so I was very much looking forward to reading it.  My first thought when I started wa s 'Oh my goodness me, this is Diary of a Provincial Lady"- the style, not just the diary format, but the phrasing, the slightly acerbic humour was that of EM Delafield's Lady and I loved it.  Here are a couple of examples:

"....and asked if I will take a trunk call. Wait for ten minutes at the end of which an unknown man's voice says 'Hullo darling - is that you? Can you meet me in town tomorrow?'  Reply that nothing would please me more but that I am afraid he has got the wrong number.  Voice says 'what rotten luck. Don't I know you then? Your voice sounds charming?'  Reply hastily that I am fat and deeply pitted with smallpox. Voice says he doesn't believe a word of it and that he can tell exactly what I am like by my voice and will I lunch with him at the Malmaison.    Ring off at once as I feel sure that Tim would not approve of this conversation"

and

"Meet Mrs Benson on the way home; she is coming to see me to lend me a 'Little Book' which is so wonderful, she knows it will help me bring up my dear children......According to this book I have been sowing the seeds of complexes and cultivating inhibitions in Bryan and Betty ever since they were a few months old. Feel much worried about this, but decide that it is too late now to do anything and that Bryan and Betty must just take their chance"

Pure Provincial Lady.

Then, suddenly Mrs Tim and Betty are swept off to Scotland for a holiday before moving to a new regiment and a new house in a different part of the country and, though the book is still sorted by date, it becomes less elliptical, less short ironic sentences and much more narrative driven.  We know that D E Stevenson is Scottish and adores Scotland, this is obvious in all her books in this setting and her descriptions of the Highlands and the Scottish air are quite beautiful and make me want to nip out and leap on the Flying Scotsman straight away (not that I think it runs any more but you get the idea).

"We emerge from the woods onto the shoulder of a hill and pause for a moment to admire the view. The air is so clear that the pine trees seem conscious of the lochs and the lochs seem conscious of the pine trees as if they were whispering to each other........everything is crystal clear, bright like spring waters, like diamonds......the brightness of it washes through my body and brain until I felt all clear all through...and the sweet hill wind blows through my very soul - cool clean wind"

Mrs Tim, Hester, is very much in love with her husband and seems totally oblivious to the fact that the dashing Major Morley who turns up in Scotland is 'hell bent in his pursuit of our charming heroine'.  He exerts all his charm, brilliance and wit but to no avail, as he realises 'she is hedged about by innocence'.   It is clear that, Guthrie, the young son of Hester's hostess, is also attracted to her and he and Tony Morley dislike each other and spend most of their time bristling with irritation and crossness.  All the time, the object of their desire carries on, heedless of the seething emotions surrounding her. 

Much though I loved this book I was slightly disconcerted at the two separate strands and felt it made for a rather disjointed story and it puzzled me.  Then up pops an email from Australia, from a member of the on line reading group to which I belong, wondering if Bloomsbury have published an omnibus edition of Mrs Tim of the Regiment and Golden days, the latter being the story of a holiday taken by Mrs Tim in the Highlands.   On investigation it seems they have and so thank goodness for that, as I really loved this book, had a happy two hours with it this morning on the sofa with a cup of coffee, and I really did not want to criticize it.  As my criticism would have been it read as if it was two separate books and now it seems it is, no problem.

          
     
 

I adore all these Bloomsbury Group books and I love the Smartie coloured covers.  When they are all together they look so pretty.....

Already looking forward to the next few titles due in 2010.  Of course, this very much depends on the sales of this new venture, so off you go - get buying.   Pretty please.

Wednesday Rambles

Lovely though posting on Random is, and I love having a blog, there is no denying it takes up time and so yesterday I decided that it would have to go hang for a day while I caught up on some of my reading. After all, if I don't read all these lovely books sent to me, then I will have nothing to write about and if I spend all my time reading then I won't have time writing and ....you get the drift.

So a brief post today and a review tomorrow and here is a picture of what awaits me, from which I hope you will understand my dilemma.

 

Of course out of this pile I simply have to draw your attention to Pashas by one James Mather, who happens to be my son-in-law.  I am sure I have not mentioned that before....

 

Sumptuous book and gorgeous to look at and hold as well as read. 

 

and here is the picture from the dust jacket of James, who is lovely and sweet and am so happy to have him in the family.

Have also just finished one of the Bloomsbury Series by DE Stevenson and have started Dombey and Son, and also polished off Demobbed this week (which have reviewed already - marvellous book) so I have been busy.

I am off to have a full body massage now folks.  Such luxury and I need it as my shoulders and neck get so tight and tense from the time I spend on the computer.

See how I suffer for you all. Aren't you proud of me.....?

Demobbed - Alan Allport

Had lie in yesterday morning (oh the bliss or retirement - sorry to keep banging on about it) with cup of tea and Demobbed by Alan Allport. I have now finished it and boy, what a stonking book and if that sounds a bit flippant, bearing in mind it is a serious study of demobilisation, then I am sorry but I am bowled over by it.

History is marvellously fascinating, I have always found it so and when you read a tome such as this one realises all over again that the great events, the great battles, the great treaties, all the great memorable historical events are all about the people, those who took part and whose lives were touched and shaped by being involved at the time.

 

I have recently read Kisses on a Postcard by Terence Frisby, a story of two young brothers, evacuated to the country. They were lucky and found loving foster parents - others were not so lucky and had a dreadful time.  Only in recent years has this emerged.  The demobilisation and the coming home of the service men after the end of World War II has also been presented to us as a happy ending, the photos of the father coming home to be greeted by the loving wife, the children running to meet him, the fairy tale ending.

Sadly, this was not often the case.  Many men came home to find wives who had been unfaithful, wives who had changed out of all recognition as they had had to work and keep the home together while their husbands were overseas, children who had no idea who they were and were frightened of this strange man suddenly coming into their lives. 

Men, who had been in charge of battalions, organising troops, being in a position of authority, suddenly were back in Civvy Street and, if they were lucky, back in their old pre-war job, working in a bank as a clerk, serving behind a counter - the change was, in many cases, impossible for the ex-servicemen to deal with.   They also had to face hostility from the civilians at home who had been bombed and blitzed, suffered food shortages, been in fear of their lives on a daily basis and who, rightly or wrongly, regarded the returning troops as lucky:

"Blighty is proud of and grateful to, its fighting men, but its civilian population has had its share of war and privations. It therefore dos not care for the loud protestation of some of the Forces men who expect priority in travel, plentiful leave, good food, pleasant accommodation after the war and an assured job.  Contrast these desires.......a civilian's life for the past few years: constant anxiety about his children in the forces, crowded trains, a few days holiday a year if lucky, monotonous rations, blasted and ruined homes, high taxation, long working hours and the possibility of losing his job when the Forces return"      (Letter to Picture Post April 1945)

It was sobering for the demobbed to discover that this attitude prevailed and made many of them wonder why they had bothered to go and fight in the war.

In the two years following demobilisation the divorce and crime rates soared.  Wives found their returning husbands so changed that marriages fell apart almost immediately.  The men found their daily drab lives after the excitement of dog fights in the sky, chasing submarines and being involved in the heart of the action, unbearable and many signed up again and returned to the Army/Navy/RAF.

Post traumatic stress is now a recognised condition, but in the aftermath of the Second World War psychiatry was regarded with suspicion and men who were suffering in this way were castigated as'self centred' or 'malingering'.  In some cases cited by Alan Alport, it was years later and only in their old age that their condition was recognised and they received a services pension and help.  Too little too late.  Demobbed is, In many ways, a heartbreaking book and I found myself deeply moved by the bewilderment of the returning men who had dreamed of this event for so many years while in the desert, on the sea, in the air or suffering and sweltering in prisoner of war camps in Germany, Japan and Burma only to feel a sense of dreadful let down and disappointment.

"I feel drained, empty - a shell, hollow inside as though suddenly in a vacuum. Victory is ours. It is all over, surely a chance for rejoicing. Yet oddly I am merely going through the motions"

My copy is festooned with yellow stickers where I have found a quote or a paragraph that has caught my attention. Impossible to write about them all here, if I did the post would be longer than the book but here is an extract from a letter written by a medical officer who spent his overseas duty touring stations in Africa and the Near East.  He looks back on his war:

"Many are the memories evoked; the absolute quiet of the moonlit desert; the stench and heat and noise of Baghdad; the beauty of Tehran; the heavy perfume of the Palestinian orange groves; the historical miracle of Jerusalem; the incredible beauty of spring flowers in the Jordan Valley; the bazaars of Damascus and Aleppo; the beat of drums at night in Khartoum at the feast of the Prophet; trout fishing on the slopes of Mount Kenya; Pretoria smothered in jacaranda blossom; the beauty of Capetown seen from Table Mountain; Vesuvius in eruption; Rome, Florence.  All these and a thousand more, were worth the fatigue and frustration, the heat and smells and flies"

No wonder so many found the return home so difficult.

A seriously excellent book and for anybody who is interested in World War II and that period of history, a must.

PS - Alan Allport has written to me to tell methere is a companion website to the book - www.alanallport.net..

"I'm compiling a day-by-day chronicle of the post war period, from June 1945 to June 1946, which contains a lot of the sort of stories found in Demobbed itself"

Check it out.

Unread Dickens

I have read some fine biographies this year and the fall out from this is that I immediately then want to read, re-read or revisit other related books by or about the particular person who has been the subject of such a book.  As I have read biographies of Jean Rhys, L M Montgomery, Edith Wharton and now Charles Dickens, this is clearly impossible as their joint output would keep me going for months and I have a To be Read pile which is growing daily. 

However, I have decided to concentrate on Dickens.  There is something about the nights drawing in and the clocks going back and the drawing of curtains and snuggling up in the winter evenings that always makes me turn to Victorian literature.  Charles Dickens always comes out this time of the year, it may be illogical, but it happens.  I always read A Christmas Carol on Christmas Eve and I always cry at Tiny Tim and his God bless us everyone.  Bleak House is perfect reading for those grey, foggy days and his ghost stories are wonderful snuggle up in warm bed underneath the duvet reading.

I always have the impression that I have read lots of Dickens and yes I suppose I have, but after the magnificent Michael Slater biography I can see there are still gaps that need to be filled.  I have read David Copperfield dozens of times, Bleak House ditto, Great Expectations, ditto, Nicholas Nickelby not quite so much, Oliver Twist not quite so much.  I have read Our Mutual Friend, once and cannot remember a huge amount about it, The Old Curiosity Shop and am not sure I can ever read this again as I was overwhelmed with a desire to throttle Little Nell before she finally succumbed with a wonderful Victorian death bed scene, Hard Times, once and only vaguely remembered, Martin Chuzzlewit, ditto. I tackled Little Dorrit for the first time this year, mainly because of the superb BBC dramatisation, but found it curiously unappealing and totally confusing at the end.  I know the BBC mucked about with the final chapters but even with all the explanations given by well clued up Dickens readers, I still am not clear as just who Little Dorrit was related to and a lot of other confusing questions still in my mind.  I don't  have any immediate plans to read it again.  Ditto for A Tale of Two Cities for which I have never felt any affection much though I may admire it.

Pickwick Papers I only read for the first time last year. I am not sure why I had never read it before, I think perhaps memories of Harry Secombe singing If I ruled the World from the musical had something to do with.  Not that I disliked Harry Seceombe, au contraire, thought he was lovely and a brilliant comedian, but his image kept obtruding and put me off.  Of course, when I finally read the book, I loved it and thought it very funny indeed.  Will probably add the chapter Christmas at Dingley Dell to my reading of A Christmas Carol as well to put me in the right mood for Christmas....

So, what am I left with?  I checked and found the remaining three titles I still had to tackle were Barnaby Rudge, The Mystery of Edwin Drood and Dombey and Son.  I have decided on the latter and then, shock horror, found I did not possess a copy so those lovely people at Oxford University Press have sent me a brand new up to date edition of Dombey in their marvellous World's Classics series, and I am now set with my Dickens for Winter.I am looking forward to it.

Oh and if I have missed anything will you please tell me?  I have only mentioned the novels and am aware that there are various short stories etc, some of which I have in collections on my shelves but for purposes of this post I have concentrated on the big titles.

I would also love to hear about your favourite Dickens...or the one that you cannot get on with...