Old English Rose Reads

Review: ‘Stardust’ by Neil Gaiman

Title: Stardust

Author: Neil Gaiman

Published: Headline Review, 2005, pp. 214.  Originally published 1999.

Genre: Fantasy

Blurb: In the sleepy English countryside at the dawn of the Victorian era, life moves at a leisurely pace in the tiny town of Wall.  Young Tristran Thorn has lost his heart to the beautiful Victoria Forester, but Victoria is as cold and distant as the star she and Tristran see fall from the sky one evening.  For the prize of Victoria’s hand, Tristran vows to retrieve the star for his beloved.  It is an oath that sends the lovelorn swain over the town’s ancient wall and into a world that is dangerous and strange beyond imagining…

When, where and why: I picked this book up from, surprise surprise, a charity shop.  I loved the film of the book and so thought it would be interesting to read the original work.  I chose it to read because I finished my previous book while I was in the office and this one just happened to be lurking there and looked short enough that it wouldn’t divert me too long from the older books languishing on my shelves that I’m meant to be reading.

What I thought: Although I liked this book, I think I would have enjoyed it a great deal more if I hadn’t seen the film beforehand.  While both stories follow the same narrative trajectory, the details are nearly always different and I think I’m going to have to commit the sacrilege of saying that I actually preferred the film, which maximises the drama of the story at the expense of some of its subtleties.  I was also extremely disappointed that some of my favourite characters in the film weren’t in the book at all.

That said, this is my fault for seeing the film first not an inherent fault of the book, and I did enjoy Stardust.  Neil Gaiman’s prose is wonderful to read, both highly descriptive and very appropriate to the fairy tale genre in which he is writing.  I liked the fact that he makes use of lots of the traditional tropes from folk tales, such as things coming in threes, the power of names, question and answer games and the importance of not straying from the path.  There is magic, adventure and whimsy, all reported with the author’s tongue placed firmly in his cheek.

I think that ultimately having seen the film spoiled this book for me, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a good read, I just didn’t enjoy it as much as I could have done.

Where this book goes: This book is staying and joining my ever-increasing fantasy collection.

Tea talk: I anticipated this book being a quick read and it ended up being so quick that I read it from cover to cover on the train home, so no tea for me.

Review: ‘The Lollipop Shoes’ by Joanne Harris

Title: The Lollipop Shoes

Author: Joanne Harris

Published: Black Swan, 2008, pp. 572.  Originally published 2007.

Genre: Fiction

Blurb: Seeking refuge and anonymity in the cobbled streets of Montmartre, Yanne and her daughters, Rosette and Annie, live peacefully, if not happily, above their little chocolate shop.  Nothing unusual marks them out; no red sachets hang by the door.  The wind has stopped — at least for a while.  Then into their lives blows Zozie de l’Alba, the lady with the lollipop shoes, and everything begins to change…

But this new friendship is not what it seems.  Ruthless, devious and seductive, Zozie de l’Alba has plans of her own — plans that will shake their world to pieces.  And with everything she loves at stake, Yanne must face a difficult choice; to flee, as she has done so many times before, or to confront her most dangerous enemy…  Herself.

When, where and why: I picked this one up from my favourite second hand bookstall because I always enjoy Joanne Harris’ books.  This one is a sequel to Chocolat, and I seized the opportunity to rejoin Vianne and Anouk as they work their magic in people’s lives.  I knew I was going to enjoy this book and so it seemed the perfect read to follow the medieval monstrosity.

What I thought: I’ve enjoyed the Joanne Harris books that I’ve read in the past because of their luxurious, sensuous writing,  filled with delights for all the senses, and their somewhat homely, domestic settings which are nonetheless never mundane.  This book continues in that excellent tradition and I really enjoyed it, not least because I got to read about some of my favourite characters again.

Initially, I found this book a little confusing because it has three first person narrators, something that isn’t immediately obvious as they all have similar voices.  Eventually I worked out that the little pictures at the head of each chapter represent the different women (a sun for Vianne, a Cat for Zozie and a moon for Anouk) but by the time I noticed this I was about halfway through the book and I didn’t really need them.  At first this lack of distinction irritated me, but as the book progressed I came to the conclusion that that was exactly the point: Anouk’s voice blurs into Zozie’s which blurs into Vianne’s.  This happens in direct speech as well as in the narration and I found it a key part of showing the insidious way in which Zozie subtly takes over their lives.

I think that I prefered the balance between magic and everyday happenings in Chocolat: there the magic seemed more subtle and commonplace, whereas it is overt and plays a more central role in The Lollipop Shoes.  However, I think that this was a necessary shift of focus to prevent the sequel being a reiteration of the first book rather than the unique novel it is, and I still love the way in which Joanne Harris weaves the two elements together throughout the book, using magic to explore commonplace issues such as growing up and being an outsider.

Where this book goes: This book has been added to my ever growing Joanne Harris collection, although I’m fairly sure my mother is going to want to steal it soon.

Tea talk: This book had me wanting to reach for the hot chocolate, filled as it was with mouthwatering descriptions of confectionery.  However, I was good and opted for some sweet, tasty Milk Oolong.  Not quite as good as hot chocolate made with milk, cream, real chocolate, sugar and cinnamon, but much better for the diet.

Review: ‘The Pillars of the Earth’ by Ken Follett

Title: The Pillars of the Earth

Author: Ken Follett

Published: Pan, 1999, pp. 1076.  Originally published 1989

Genre: Historical fiction

Blurb: 1123.  A time of violent civil war, famine, religious strife and battles for royal succession  And a time when man’s greatest skills and aspirations gave birth to a daring and impossible dream — the building of the magnificent cathedral of Kingsbridge.

For the next tow generations men and women will struggle against their primitive surroundings to create something eternally beautiful.  Men like Father Philip, who has dedicated his life to immortality in stone.  Or Tom Builder, the architect of his awesome vision.  Women like Aliena, the Earl’s beautiful daughter, with the indomitable spirit to overcome a multitude of evils.  And Ellen woman of the forest who casts a terrifying curse…

When, where and why: In my final year of university I lived with a girl whose favourite book this was, so naturally I picked it up when I saw a copy in Oxfam.  I started reading it because I wanted to keep ahead of the television series, which I’ve actually ended up not watching, oddly enough.  It’s definitely old enough to qualify as book 25/50 for my Books Off the Shelf Challenge.

What I thought: I started The Pillars of the Earth full of expectations that I would love it: on the surface this epic of medieval life and cathedrals should have been the perfect book for me.  The middle ages is an era that has been very close to my heart ever since I was taken on trips to visit castles and cathedrals by my parents when I was tiny.  I went on to take a degree and masters focusing on medieval literature, so I flatter myself that I know a little bit about the period in which this novel is set.  Admittedly, my expectations of this book were perhaps a little high (although understandable given the near universally glowing reviews it seems to have garnered) but nonetheless, I wasn’t prepared for the enormous disappointment that this book turned out to be.

I’m not a huge stickler for accuracy in historical fiction as long as the book feels right and for me, this means getting the little details about everyday life correct.  It’s easy to get the date of a battle or a coronation correct, but knowing about how ordinary people went about their daily business is more difficult and is part of what I expect from a well-written historical novel.  Getting these things wrong sets my teeth on edge normally, but getting them wrong when you spent ten years researching and writing a book (not to mention having a paid research assistant) just looks like laziness and sloppy work.  When you have the time, money and resources to get things right there’s just no excuse, as far as I’m concerned.  This probably wouldn’t irritate me nearly as much as it does if it weren’t for the numerous reviews that suggest that people could read this book to find out about twelfth century history when all they would learn about is Ken Follett’s twelfth century history, where women are ‘hot’ and ‘sexy’, people have scullery maids and labourers have clothes which do up with multiple buttons, which is about as accurate as Hollywood twelfth century history.

Follett obviously has very fixed notions about the middle ages, which he presents as a lawless, ignorant and violent time with only a few good, educated, enlightened people (strangely enough, the ones that we’re supposed to like) among all the bad.  The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle observes that King Stephen’s reign ‘when Christ and his saints slept’ was definitely a lawless and troubled one, so William Hamleigh’s actions are not unlikely, but the divide between good characters who posess modern virtues and bad characters who conform in every way to the medieval stereotype is very heavy-handed and does not make for balanced, believable characters.  I half expected the bad characters to cackle while rubbing their hands with glee, they were so one dimensional.

One particular way in which Follett distinguishes his good characters from bad through giving them contrasting ‘modern’ and ‘medieval’ values is sex.  The good characters know about things like love, mutual pleasure and orgasms, while the bad characters are either impotent or violent and prefer prostitutes and rape to loving partners.  Even if the sex scenes (of which there are many) had been well done, this would have been a crass and obvious way to show characterisation, but they are either repellent or amusingly Harlequin-esque, both of which seem totally out of place in a book ostensibly about building a cathedral.  I’m no prude, and I have no objections to the odd well-placed steamy scene in a book, but these seem totally out of context and make me cringe and wish that Follett had learned the technique of tastefully drawing a veil on proceedings.  Also, how many times do we need to read a graphic description of William Hamleigh raping a woman to establish that he is A Bad Man?  Apparently the answer is many.

The plot is quite repetitive.  That might sound reasonable for a novel surrounding something like the construction of a cathedral which necessarily takes place over many decades, but there was never any sense of progression.  Tom/Alfred/Jack builds something, William/Waleran causes problems and halts the building, Philip and co. come up with a solution and building continues.  Over and over again.  If quickly felt as if the book could happily have been much shorter without changing much at all.  I thought the end section concerning the murder of Thomas Beckett was very odd and unnecessary, considering how removed it was from the entirety of the plot so far.  Kingsbridge is supposedly near Winchester, so why Follett contrives to have it’s Prior be in Canterbury on the night its archbishop is killed perplexes me.  All it did was draw the book out even longer, and I was rather losing patience by this point.

When a plot meanders and repeats like this one does it needs strong characters to help drive it along and sadly I found Pillars of the Earth to be lacking in this area too.  I was instantly put off by the fact that they all seem to be modern people (with the exception of the bad guys, of course) speaking in modern terms who just happen to be wandering about in period costume (and inaccurate costume at that).  The two female characters are both beautiful, resourceful and educated and while I can believe that Aliena might be able to read, the likelihood of forest woman Ellen being able to do the same at a time when books were both exclusive and expensive is incredibly remote.  Agnes is probably the most plausible woman in the book, which means naturally that she’s killed off very early on because she’s not terribly interesting.  However, my problem with the female characters pales in comparison to my issue with Prior Philip.  Follett states in his introduction that, though he is fascinated by cathedrals, he is not a religious man and sadly this shines through in the text.  Philip, whom the reader is encouraged to look on as a good man of God in contrast to Waleran, a corrupt one, is undoubtedly the most secular monk I have ever encountered.  He may be good, but very rarely does he seem genuinely holy in any way.  He most frequently mentions God when he is striking a bargain with Him (“if you want me to build this cathedral, give me the money”) and there is very little evidence of prayer and serenity.  I think it says a great deal about the priorities of the author that there is more visible rape in this book than there is visible religion.

You may have noticed by now that I really didn’t like this book at all.  However, I review everything I read and it wouldn’t be fair of me to ignore this book just because I’m in the minority who loathe it.  If I didn’t subscribe to the Mastermind theory of reading as I like to call it (I’ve started so I’ll finish) I would have abandoned this book long before I trudged wearily to the end of its seemingly interminable 1076 pages.  Sometimes this pays off, and I discover a wonderful new book: this time, it didn’t.

Where this book goes: This is off to BookMooch to find a new home.  It’s quite popular at the moment thanks to the television series, so I should imagine it will go quite quickly.

Tea talk: As I can’t drink tea with interesting bits in at the moment I’ve been branching out and experimenting with some different varieties of leaf recently.  While I read The Pillars of the Earth I was trying Char’s Assam Mangalam, which is one of their gold medal winning teas.  I’m not sure who awards medals to tea, but there you go.  It’s a stronger flavour than I usually go for and I have to be careful not to brew it for too long, but it makes a nice change for the winter to drink something with a darker, fuller taste.

In my mailbox

“In my mailbox” is a weekly meme hosted by The Story Siren in which people share the books that they have acquired that week.

For one reason or another (chiefly not being home at the weekends) I’ve not done one of these for a month now.  Consequently, the book haul looks rather horrendous, I know, and I’m going to have to put a stop to my acquisition habit this month.  This mammoth pile is the combined result of books requested on BookMooch and books from charity shops as usual, with a few thrown in here and there from ebay or Amazon marketplace.  This time around the biggest culprit was a charity shop I passed when I was out pottering during my lunch break which had a sign in the window bearing the fatal words “All books 50p”.  Now how was I supposed to resist that?  At least I can ease my book guilt by the knowledge that I’m not spending much money and other people are benefiting from my habit.

I think I’m just going to list these because there are too many of them for me to comment on them all and this would become an incredibly long post.  Now that I’ve caught up I’ll try not to leave it so long next time (oh, and to cut back on the books too, honest).

From BookMooch:

• Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier
• The People of Lavender Court by Kathleen Dayus
• The House of the Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne
• 98 Reasons for Being by Clare Dudman
• The Witching Hour by Anne Rice
• The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy by Tim Burton
• The Enchanted April by Elizabeth Von Armin
• The Courage Consort by Michael Faber
• Gould’s Book of Fish by Richard Flanagan
• A Month in the Country by J. L. Carr
• The Outcast by Sadie Jones
• Winter Rose by Patricia McKillip
• Wildwood Dancing by Juliet Marillier
• Marie by Madeleine Bourdouxhe

From charity shops:

• Desdemona – If Only You Had Spoken by Christine Bruckner
• Novel on Yellow Paper by Stevie Smith
• Two for the Lions, Last Act in Palmyra and Dying Light in Corduba by Lindsey Davis
• Prodigal Summer and The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver
• Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and Other Stories by Robert Louis Stevenson
• In the Company of the Courtesan by Sarah Dunant
• The World my Wilderness by Rose Macaulay
• Hours Before Dawn be Celia Fremlin
• Try Anything Twice and Mrs Miniver by Jan Struther
• The House in Dormer Forest by Mary Webb
• Diana of the Crossways by George Meredith
• The Turquoise and The Mistletoe and the Sword by Anya Seton
• Miss Mapp, Lucia’s Progress and Mapp and Lucia by E. F. Benson
• White Swan, Black Swan by Adrienne Sharp
• Alone in Berlin by Hans Fallada
• The House at Riverton by Kate Morton
• Affinity by Sarah Waters
• The Eleventh Plague by Darren Craske
• Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand by Helen Simonson
• The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes and The Return of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
• Stardust by Neil Gaiman
• Life of Pi by Yann Martel
• The Masterharper of Pern by Anne McCaffrey
• Blood on the Dining Room Floor by Gertrude Stein
• The Lifted Veil by George Eliot
• Lady Audley’s Secret by Mary E. Braddon
• The Shutter of Snow by Emily Holmes Coleman
• The Golden Child, The Blue Flower and At Freddie’s by Penelope Fitzgerald
• The Wedding by Dorothy West
• The Blade Itself, Before They Are Hanged and The Last Argument of Kings by Joe Abercrombie
• The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
• The Secret Scripture by Sebastian Barry
• Henrietta Brandon by Sonia Prentice Clary
• A Place of Secrets by Rachel Hore
• The Shadows of Elisa Lynch by Sian Rees

From Amazon and Ebay:

• William: An Englishman by Cicely Hamilton
• The Warden by Anthony Trollope
• A Study in Scarlet and The Sign of Four by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (both read now)

Received for review:

• Flowers for Alys by Irene M Redpath

So, in summary:

Books off the TBR pile in the past four weeks – 6

Books on the TBR pile this fortnight – 67 (shhh, don’t tell)

Change – +61

TBR pile stands at – 584 books (oh dear)

Review: ‘The Return of the Soldier’ by Rebecca West

Title: The Return of the Soldier

Author: Rebecca West

Published: Virago, 1984, pp. 188.  Originally published 1918

Genre: Fiction

Blurb: When the soldier returns from the front, he returns to three women who love him.  His wife, Kitty, with her cold, moonlight beauty, and his devoted cousin Jenny wait in their exquisite home on the crest of the Harrow-weald.  Margaret Allington, his first and long-forgotten love, is nearby in the dreary suburb of Wealdstone.  But the soldier is shellshocked and can only remember the Margaret he loved fifteen years before, when he was a young man and she an inn keeper’s daughter on the magical Monkey Island.  His cousin he remembers only as a childhood playmate, and his wife he remembers not at all.  The three women have a choice — to leave him where he wishes to be, or to ‘cure’ him.  It is Margaret whose beauty of soul reveals a love so great that she can make the final sacrifice…

When, where and why: After noticing that most of my favourite recent books have been published by Virago I developed an interest in their Virago Modern Classics series, which publishes often neglected works celebrating the lives and literature of women in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.  I managed to pick up a box of eleven of these books, all by authors I’d never read and most by authors I’d never even heard of.  The Return of the Soldier happened to be the first book out of the box.

What I thought: It’s taken me an unusually long time to write this review, since every time I go to try to put what I think about The Return of the Soldier into words I’m tongue tied because I loved it so much.  This bittersweet novel has a deceptively simple story which is brought to life through prose which is more like poetry at times; rich and full and evocative without ever being purple or pompous.  It is charged with emotion, both amusing and heartbreaking, and I’m green with envy that Rebecca West wrote this when she was only my age (that’s 24, if you must know).  It may be a quick read, but it’s a very intense one.

It’s not a word I use often, but the writing is just perfect.  The snobbery with which Kitty and Jenny greet Margaret is sometimes cruel:

She was repulsively furred with neglect and poverty, as even a good glove that has dropped down behind a bed in a hotel and has lain undisturbed for a day or two is repulsive when the chambermaid retrieves it from the dust and fluff.  (p. 25)

However, it is also funny, reflecting on Kitty and Jenny rather than Margaret.  I couldn’t help but laugh when Jenny remarks on ‘her deplorable umbrella, her unpardonable raincoat‘ (p. 33).    Her writing is equally insightful and direct when emotional matters are in focus:

There was to be a finality about his happiness which usually belongs only to loss and calamity; he was to be as happy as a ring cast into the sea is lost, as a man whose coffin has lain for centuries beneath the sod is dead. (p. 180)

Rebecca West’s use of pronouns is masterful: before Chris returns home having lost all memory of the past fifteen years, Jenny always uses ‘we’ to refer to Kitty and herself.  Even though Kitty is his wife and Jenny his cousin, both women seem to occupy the same role in making life happy and comfortable and beautiful for Chris, as they are united in their love for him.  After Chris returns, Jenny talks about herself separately from Kitty, so not only is the bond between Kitty and her husband severed but also that between Kitty and Jenny.  This cleverly emphasises the loneliness and isolation of Chris’ erstwhile wife as, without the narrator’s ‘we’, she almost disappears from the novel, leaving the reader feeling as guilty and compassionate as Margaret does when we see her standing mournfully outside the nursery clutching her little dog, looking in at the woman her husband loves.  In fact, I started out wanting to see more of Kitty and wishing her character would develop, but I very quickly realised that I wasn’t supposed to know her and her absence and immaturity were deliberate and perfectly calculated.

The Return of the Soldier represents everything that I’m coming to love about Virago Modern Classics: it’s a book that I would never have picked up if it hadn’t been for the publisher and because I did I’ve discovered a gem of a book which is possibly one of the best I’ve read this year.  I’m looking forward to my next selection from the lucky dip box of Viragos.

Where this book goes: This book is most definitely staying with me, and will no doubt be joined by many other books by Rebecca West if the quality of this one is anything to go by.  It was a beautiful read and I hope the rest are just as good.  It looks as though I have ten other books by her to look forward to discovering.

Tea talk: This was yet another train book (although it nearly made me miss my stop I was so engrossed) so no tea was had, alas.  Recently though I’ve been back on the Milk Oolong, now that the weather is behaving again for a little while.  I’m enjoying its sweet milky taste and it would have been a great accompaniment to this book.

Review: ‘The Sign of Four’ by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Title: The Sign of Four

Author: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Published: Headline Review, 2006, pp. 146.  Original publication 1890.

Genre: Classic mystery fiction

Blurb: As the seamy streets of London drown in a sea of smog, Sherlock Holmes sinks into a drug-induced stupour.  That is, until Miss Mary Morstan presents him with a most intriguing case.  A terrible death, an unknown benefactor, stolen treasure and a secret pact between criminals stretching back to a mutiny-torn India, lead Holmes into an epic pursuit of the truth.

Where, when and why: I ordered this book from Amazon marketplace as soon as I finished the first one because I enjoyed it so much (in fact, I’ve not even recorded them in a mailbox post, so they’re both very recent purchases).  I picked it up to read because it’s small and light meaning that, unlike my current main read, it’s easy to read on the tube.

What I thought: Although I still liked this book, disappointingly I didn’t find it as enjoyable as A Study in Scarlet.  This was primarily because the mystery seems much more distant from the narrative this time and a lot of the interesting parts happened off-stage.  This story is a prime example of telling rather than showing: the reader sees very little detective work but instead the mystery is revealed in a lengthy, involved and rather irrelevant monologue from the culprit after he has been arrested; apparently all guilty people suddenly feel the urge to confess expansively.  I couldn’t help but feel rather cheated.

I also thought that the characters are not as well presented in this second Sherlock Holmes story.  Holmes disappears for a lot of it and so the reader misses out on his bizarre and erratic character, being left only with the much less interesting Watson.  I thought Watson’s love affair both unbelieveable and unnecessary and the book would have been much better without it.

Nevertheless, there are some wonderful set pieces in this book, notably the chase scenes.  The bloodhound and the police boat which are used at different points in the story to persue the suspected murder may not have the speed of modern equivalents, but Sir Arthur Conan Doyle writes tension-filled chases to rival those seen in James Bond films, full of twists and turns, obstacles and disappointments.  It’s parts like these that mean I’m definitely going to continue with the series, but I do hope that it improves.

Whether you’re a fan of Sherlock Holmes or not, I definitely wouldn’t recommend buying the edition I read, as throughout the book there are occasional superscript numbers for no apparent reason.  I presumed these  must be footnotes, but on turning to the back of the book I found no corresponding numbers and notes so I assume these must be printing errors.  It doesn’t get in the way exactly but it looks messy and when there are so many different editions of this story available it makes very little sense to buy a copy with mistakes.

Where this book goes: Given the irritation of this particular edition, I’ve decided to switch to the rather attractive Penguin Pocket editions for the rest of the series, three of which I picked up in a charity shop last weekend.  I’ll keep this book around until I manage to find a copy of it in my new preferred edition, but then it will be off to BookMooch.

Tea talk: Once again, this book was read on the train without tea.  I have got some longer reads coming up soon though, so hopefully I’ll have more interesting tea things to report.

Review: ‘A Study in Scarlet’ by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Title: A Study in Scarlet

Author: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Published: Headline Review, 2006, pp. 164

Genre: Classic mystery fiction

Blurb: Arriving in the wilderness of London and in need of lodgings, Dr John Watson finds himself living at 221b Baker Street with one Sherlock Holmes.  When a corpse is discovered in a derelict house Watson, fascinated by his brilliant, eccentric companion, is soon drawn into Holmes’ investigations.  There’s no sign of a struggle, no wounds on the body, yet scrawled in blood across the walls is the word RACHE — revenge.  Watson is baffled, but for Holmes the game is afoot…

Where, when and why: In The Thirteenth Tale the doctor prescribes Sherlock Holmes to the narrator as the antidote to reading too much sensational fiction.  Given my own recent reading habits I thought that I might enjoy the change of pace and style found in these stories as much as Margaret did, so I ordered the first one and started reading it as soon as it arrived in the office.  It also just sneaks in before the deadline for my last read for the R.I.P Challenge, qualifying me for Peril the First.

What I thought: Reading this book was a lot like watching an episode of a detective show on television: it was fast-paced, entertaining and I found it impossible to work out what had happened before it was finally revealed.  Specifically, it reminded me of ‘The Mentalist’ because of the way that Sherlock Holmes solved the mystery simply with close observation and knowledge of human nature, rather than with complicated science which always feels a bit like cheating to me.

I thoroughly enjoyed the character of Holmes, treading the precarious line between madness and genius and appearing to stray into the former more often than not.  The story seems to be more about his madcap antics than the process of solving the mystery, as his smug reticence when questioned about what he knows prevents anything being given away, but I found this a clever way of drawing out the suspense in a very short story.  Watson’s staid character and narrative style seem particularly appropriate as a counterpart to Holmes, not least because he seems just as baffled by proceedings as I was.

Readers seem to be divided on the efficacy of the long diversion towards the end of the book which explains the mystery, but I thought that it works and found it to be a welcome change.  The switch from detective story to personal history slows the pace of the narrative down and allows for some interesting development of the character of the murderer.  I liked the fact that the reader is provided with a more in depth explanation for the motives behind the murderer’s actions which changes the reader’s perspective.  I definitely look forward to carrying on with this series.

Where this book goes: As I enjoyed this book it looks as though I may end up starting a Sherlock Holmes collection, so naturally this one stays where it is.

Tea talk: This book was read entirely on the return train journey of the one on which I read Twist of Gold, so once again there was no tea.  I’m slowly working my way through some much longer books though, and there’s plenty of tea talk to accompany those.

Review: ‘Twist of Gold’ by Michael Morpurgo

Title: Twist of Gold

Author: Michael Morpurgo

Published: Egmont, 2001, pp. 300

Genre: Young adult historical fiction

Blurb: Sean and Annie have fled the potato famine in Ireland for America, leaving their dying mother behind.  They are the only O’Brien children to have survived their family’s suffering.  The worst is not over as they embark on a hard and dangerous journey all the way from Cork to California.  One thing gives them the courage to go on: the hope that they might at last be reunited with their father.

When, where and why: My mother was kind enough to pick this one up for me and get it signed and dedicated by the author from a bookfair that I wasn’t able to attend.  I was in the middle of university at the time, and so this book was pushed aside by other books on which I had to write essays.  I picked it up now because I wanted something short and light to follow The Woman in White.  It’s book 24/50 for my Books Off the Shelf Challenge.

What I thought: I’ve loved every single one of Michael Morpurgo’s books that I’ve picked up since I first read Why the Whales Came many years ago.  He is, in my opinion, one of the best older children’s authors still writing, and Twist of Gold serves as a wonderful reminder of why that is.

The story of Twist of Gold follows two children as they journey from Ireland to Boston and then onwards through America in search of their father.  Along the way, they are helped by a string of supporting characters who are all well-drawn and engaging.  Morpurgo is able to make the reader warm to each of these people in a very short space of time and each one is a carefully crafted individual so that although the story develops in a fairly formulaic manner (children get into trouble and are rescued by kindly person) it never feels repetitive or dull.  I was also pleased that Morpurgo doesn’t feel the need to tie all of these characters into the ending in a contrived manner, but leaves them as steps along the journey.

The writing, as always, is very skillful and the sort which can be enjoyed by readers of any age, which for me is the mark of a good children’s book.  His vocabulary choices are sometimes challenging but always appropriate to the age range for which he writes without ever feeling dumbed down.  His descriptions are full and evocative, instantly conjuring up arid deserts or crowded city streets.  The story is full of adventure but is sufficiently grounded in reality to be believable.  I would definitely recommend this book for children of eight and up.

Where this book goes: Even if it hadn’t been signed, this book would still be staying with me as it’s a lovely story.

Tea talk: As I read this book in one sitting on the train between home and London there was no tea in sight.  Train tea is unpleasant, and even if it weren’t, the buffet service has been inexplicably removed from my train in the mornings, so no opportunity to buy it anyway.

Review: ‘The Woman in White’ by Wilkie Collins

Title: The Woman in White

Author: Wilkie Collins

Published: Penguin,1974, pp. 648

Genre: Classic mystery fiction

Blurb: Wilkie Collins’ sixth novel took the fashionable world by storm on its appearance in 1860 when everything from dances to dresses was named after the ‘woman in white’.  Its continuing power to fascinate stems in part from a distinctive blend of melodrama, comedy and realism; and in part from the power of its story.  Yet The Woman in White is more than just a classic thriller, and contemporary critics have found in it a feminist parable for our times.

When, where and why: I have no recollection whatsoever of buying this book, so I’m going to assume it’s been hanging around on my shelves for quite some time.  I picked it up to read now because there’s something about the colder weather which makes me want to read classic literature, and this one looked interesting.  It’s also book 23/50 for my Books Off the Shelf Challenge, and counts as 3/4 of my books towards the R.I.P. Challenge.

What I thought: After finishing this book I feel compelled to impersonate Mrs Bennet by throwing my hands into the air and exclaiming, “Oh, Mr Collins!”  I really enjoyed this book and, like so many authors I’ve discovered this year, I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to find out how good he is.  I have vague memories of reading The Moonstone when I was eleven (which I’ll now have to go back and reread) but I can’t remember enjoying it anything like as much as The Woman in White, probably because I was too young to appreciate it properly.

I found The Woman in White to be a very skilfully written work as it is presented from so many different perspectives.  The story is set up as evidence for the mystery of the eponymous woman in white, and so it is necessary for a string of characters to take charge of the narrative as the story progresses in order for the reader to be presented with a first hand view of important events.  Impressively, each character has a different and appropriate narrative style, with just the voice and preoccupations I would have imagined for them: Walter Hartright is romantic, emotional, and prone to waxing lyrical about things; Miss Halcombe is precise and detailed; the lawyer is sparse and abrupt.  I thought that the use of these different voices adds texture to the novel and helps to create suspense, as the individual characters reveal their information separately for the reader to piece together.

In Marian Halcombe, Collins has created a great female character.  She is resourceful, intelligent and strong-willed while still being constrained by her position in Victorian society.  She’s the sort of character I was was real because if she was, I’d want to have her round for tea and be her friend.  Had I been Walter Hartright, I would have fallen in love with Marian instead of Laura Fairlie (I notice that Collins is careful to state how ugly Marian is when she is introduced, which I assume is an attempt to explain this preference).  Where Marian seems real and lively, Laura Fairlie is a typical, insipid woman-written-by-Victorian-man; it works well in the context of the story, but I wish she’d been a bit more interesting.  Like Marain, Count Fosco is also a brilliant creation, but to say more would give too much away.

The story itself is engrossing.  Perhaps it’s due to my not reading many mysteries, but I found myself falling for every trap and red herring that Collins wove into the narrative.  This certainly didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the story; in fact, I found myself relishing being led around by Collins while convinced (incorrectly) that I had figured out the solution to the mystery.  I liked the slow, drawn out pace with which the narrative progressed (presumably partly due to its original publication in serial) and thought that it added to the suspense, as I had to wait until Collins was good and ready to reveal what happened next.

My only criticism of this novel is the way in which Collins solved the mystery.  It wasn’t the conclusion that I objected to at all, but the bizarre way in which Walter Hartright eventually uncovered it, completely unconnected to anything else in the text so far.  I couldn’t have been more flummoxed if a talking unicorn had suddenly popped up and solved everything for him.  While this seemingly strange addition was probably an enjoyable twist for Collins’ contemporary readers who enjoyed sensational literature, I found it out of character with the rest of the book and I wish the mystery had been concluded in a less surprising way more in keeping with the narrative so far.  However, I understand that I’m looking at this as a modern reader and so with different priorities.  Nonetheless, this didn’t diminish my enjoyment of the novel and I can’t wait to read more by this author.

Where this book goes: The old Penguin copy I read was quite tatty before I began and had fallen apart by the time I finished reading it.  However, I enjoyed the book far too much not to have a copy of it to keep around and so ordered a more durable looking hardback Everyman edition from Amazon Marketplace.

Tea talk: Until recently when I managed to guilt someone into sorting it out by subtly walking past the facilities manager wearing my coat, scarf and hat, there’s been no heating in my office at all.  Consequently, I’ve been drinking Lapsang Souchong in an attempt to make myself feel warmer.  I’ve decided this is the perfect winter tea, because it smells like sitting in front of an open fire.  Expect many more tea notes waxing lyrical about this smokey tea.

Review: ‘Offbeat Bride’ by Ariel Meadow Stallings

Title: Offbeat Bride – Taffeta-Free Alternatives for Independent Brides

Author: Ariel Meadow Stallings

Published: Seal Press, 2006, pp. 219

Genre: Wedding planning

Blurb: Unenthused by a white wedding gown and bored by the hoopla of the Hollywood-style reception, Ariel Meadow Stallings found herself absolutely exhausted with the nuances of traditional nuptials. So, she chose to take a walk off the beaten aisle and embrace the non-traditional bride within. Through trial and error, Ariel and her fiancé managed to crank out a budget wedding with all-night dancing, guests toasting champagne in mismatched mugs, gorgeous gardens, no monogrammed napkins, no garter, no bridesmaids, and lots of lesbians. Shortly after her 2004 matrimony, Ariel began searching for other brides whose ceremonies defied age-old tradition and reflected who they are. From there, she developed the idea for a guide for the offbeat couple. (Goodreads summary)

When, where and why: I’ve enjoyed looking at Offbeat Bride for ages (quite probably long before I got engaged) and so I was really pleased to discover that there was a book too when I was browsing LibraryThing for wedding related titles which sounded readable.  I managed to get hold of this from BookMooch and started reading it almost right away.

What I thought: This book is just the sort of wedding book that I was looking for: it’s entertaining, insightful, useful and above all it doesn’t take itself too seriously.  It’s a great blend of anecdotes from Ariel and other similarly non traditional brides about their wedding days and the planning leading up to it and advice to brides who are in the process of arranging their own weddings.  As just such a bride, I found the book relatable and the hints and tips invaluable.  Unlike other wedding books and magazines that I’ve encountered, the advice in Offbeat Bride doesn’t concern how to fold your own napkins and the most politically correct way to seat people at the reception, but things like how to say “thanks, but no thanks” and how to avoid being talked into decisions because “it’s tradition”.  True, none of these things is particularly new or startling, but Ariel’s voice as she writes is so matter-of-fact and irreverent about the whole process that it’s like receiving a welcome, reassuring chat from a friend that everything will be ok, just stop fussing about the little things.  At the same time, she never loses sight of the fact that getting married is (gasp) important to people and that most people will go a tiny bit crazy over something completely irrational at some point during the planning phases.  This book presents a very balanced view, which is a welcome change from a lot of the wedding literature out there.

It’s worth noting that the Old English Thorn and I are having probably the most traditional wedding imagineable, complete with Catholic church, hall and buffet reception, taking his surname and living together for the first time after the marriage.  However, don’t let the title fool you; this book is an ideal read for any bride (or groom for that matter), whether planning a beach wedding with everyone in costume as pirates or a traditional ceremony in a white meringue of a dress.  Dilemmas like people disapproving, being offended by the guest list, or just wanting to help a little bit too much are certainly not unique to brides who favour black dresses and purple hair.  A wedding, it seems, is something on which everyone has an opinion, regardless of how unwelcome that may be.  Offbeat Bride recognises that and offers some great ways to either accept or ignore it.  It provides some much-needed perspective and entertainment at a time when it’s very easy to take things too seriously.

Where this book stays: I think I’m going to circulate this one to my mother and husband-to-be as I there’s stuff in it which will be useful for them too.  After the wedding circus is over (roll on September) it will be off to BookMooch again to find a new home with someone else.

Tea talk: I’m afraid I’ve been on the coffee again while reading this book.  I read it while I was at home in the evenings and so whenever the kettle went on (frequently in a house with no central heating) I was presented with a ready made cup of coffee by someone.  As tea would have required getting up, coffee it was.