Sharp isn’t an author that I know much about because she seems, entirely undeservedly, to have fallen into obscurity.  Although a prolific writer of novels for adults, she is mostly remembered for her children’s books about the two mice called Bernard and Miss Bianca, better known as The Rescuers, and this is probably largely due to the popular Disney adaptations rather than the books themselves.  Of all the twenty-six adult books that she wrote only The Eye of Love, published by Virago in 2004, is currently in print.  This is a huge shame as, if The Nutmeg Tree is anything to go by, Margery Sharp writes exactly the sort of book I love to read: warm, amusing stories with entertaining characters, written with a light touch and a wry, humorous tone.  I’m picking them up in second hand book shops whenever I see them, but some of them (particularly the intriguingly titled Rhododendron Pie) are rarer than hen’s teeth.  Hopefully I’ll get hold of a copy one day.

The Nutmeg Tree charts the fortunes of Julia, a middle aged former actress who retains her gleeful love of life and all it has to offer.  Her enthusiasm and warmth has got her into trouble before in her youth, not least when she finds herself swiftly become pregnant, married and widowed in the space of a few months.  Stifled by the kindness of her very proper and rather rich in-laws, she leaves her daughter Susan with them to be raised and returns to life and work in London.  At the start of the novel, Julia has not seen her daughter for sixteen years until a letter arrives from Susan enlisting her mother’s help in persuading her grandparents to let her get married.  Unable to resist this cry for help, the affectionate Julia immediately boards a boat for France, determined this time to be a proper mother.  But old habits die hard and Julia’s exuberance will not be repressed, particularly when there are eligible gentlemen around.

I could tell that I had picked just the right book as soon as I read the opening paragraph:

Julia, by marriage Mrs Packett, by courtesy Mrs Macdermot, lay in her bath singing the Marseillaise.  Her fine robust contralto, however, was less resonant than usual; for on this particular summer morning the bathroom, in addition to the ordinary fittings, contained a lacquer coffee table, seven hatboxes, half a dinner service, a small grandfather clock, all Julia’s clothes, a single-bed mattress, thirty-five novelettes, three suitcases, and a copy of a Landseer stag.  The customary echo was therefore lacking; and if the ceiling now and then trembled, it was not because of Julia’s song, but because the men from the Bayswater Hire Furniture Company had not yet finished removing the hired furniture.

Julia is such a character it is impossible not to like her and enjoy reading about her exploits as she tries to appear respectable for the sake of her daughter.  If just given the facts about her, she should be someone of whom the reader disapproves: she is far too free with her affections and abandons her young child out of boredom and frustration.  Yet Sharp creates her in such a way that her great ability to give love suggests bounty and generosity rather than being a negative attribute, and there is no judgement at all on her decision to leave Susan with the Packetts.  If anything, the reader is encouraged to sympathise with Julia’s feelings of being stifled and bored among her interfering but well-meaning in-laws.  Her escapades never fail to entertain and bring a smile to my face.

The other characters are all equally enjoyable.  I particularly enjoyed the description of Susan’s grandmother:

It seemed to her more likely that her mother-in-law was of the type, not rare among Englishwomen, in whom full individuality only blossoms with age: one of those who, as sixty-one, suddenly startle their relatives by going up in aeroplanes or marrying their chauffeurs…

The story itself isn’t exactly full of surprises; you can tell from the tone of the writing that everything will work out for the best.  Sometimes however, the journey is far more important than the destination, and I’ll happily travel along with Julia any day.  Sir William talks about feeling a mixture of affection and amusement towards Julia, and that’s exactly how I felt towards The Nutmeg Tree.  I really hope that I keep finding her books in the second hand book shops of Charing Cross Road, but more than that I hope that she is rediscovered and reissued so that more people can enjoy her work.  With her humour, intelligence and charm she seems like prime Persephone material to me.

The Nutmeg Tree by Margery Sharp.  Published by Collins, 1948, pp. 252.  Originally published in 1937.

Barbara Buncle is a middle aged spinster who has been forced by reduced circumstances to seek additional income and so has written a novel based on the village in which she lives under a pseudonym in the hope of making some money.  To her delight her book is published and becomes wildly popular, putting an end to her financial problems.  However, the residents of Miss Buncle’s village are less thrilled when they discover that they all feature in the book and many of them are less than flattered.  If only they can find the author, the mysterious John Smith, then there is certain to be trouble.

If The Victorian Chaise-Longue wasn’t quite what I expected, Miss Buncle’s Book was everything I had hoped for and more.  It is a charming tale of village life which becomes less and less typical as the plot advances, culminating in events which are utterly outlandish, incredibly far-fetched and delightfully entertaining.  It is light and fluffy but prevented from being vacuous by the sharp intelligence which lies behind the keen observations of people and their ways which make this book so enjoyable.

Primarily, Miss Buncle’s Book is a novel of character, giving D. E. Stevenson the opportunity to draw portraits of a variety of different people from the doctor to the indomitable Mrs Featherstone Hogg.  She is able to convey a great deal of information about her characters without saying things directly, such as in the beginning of the chapter entitled ‘Mrs Carter’s Tea-Party’:

Barbara knew when she saw the china that Mrs Featherstone Hogg was expected, and her spirits fell a degree for she did not like Mrs Featherstone Hogg.  Barbara had met Dorothea Bold on the doorstep and they had gone in together, and Miss King and Miss Pretty were there already.  But not for these would Mrs Carter have produced her best eggshell cups and saucers, that filmy drawn-thread-work tea-cloth, those lusciously bulging cream buns. (p. 61)

I love the way that Stevenson has focused on the little details like this, making them seem large and important and so drawing the reader into the rather petty and insular world of Silverstream with its little intrigues and high dramas, which is nonetheless a very enjoyable place to be.  Persephone have already published the sequel to this book, Miss Buncle Married, and I really hope that they plan to continue republishing the series as I definitely want to spent more time in the company of Barbara Buncle.

Miss Buncle’s Book by D. E. Stevenson.  Published by Persephone, 2010, pp. 332.  Originally published in 1934.

Author: Winifred Watson

Published: Persephone Books, 2008, pp. 234

Genre: Early twentieth century fiction

Blurb: Miss Pettigrew is a down-on-her-luck, middle-aged governess sent by her employment agency to work for a nightclub singer rather than a household of unruly children.  Over a period of 24 hours her life is changed — forever.

Where, when and why: I bought this book from a second hand book stall outside Winchester Cathedral earlier in the month.  I saw first saw it in Waterstones sometime last year and have been wanting to read it ever since, so I was very pleased when I found this copy and started reading it as soon as I had finished my previous book.

What I thought: Happy books seem to be decidedly unfashionable.  I cannot remember the last time I read a book that wasn’t written by Gerald Durrell which didn’t feature terrible, tear-jerking adversity to be overcome, moments of heartfelt misery, or at the very least self-indulgent angst.  None of these are bad things per se, but it is nice to have a change sometimes if only to provide some much-needed contrast.  Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day is just such a breath of literary fresh air; it is a very happy book indeed.  Reading it is like curling up in a comfortable chair with a pot of tea, a box of chocolates and a cat purring on your lap (which, incidentally, is exactly how I read this book).  It is warm, comforting and just makes you smile.

The Cinderella story of Miss Pettigrew is absolutely delightful to read as Winifred Watson handles it so well.  The tale of the eponymous heroine, a middle aged spinster who is treated to an experience of how the other half live when she is accidentally sent to apply for a job at the wrong address and is then adopted by beautiful nightclub singer Miss LaFosse, could easily have been sickly sweet and sentimental.  Equally, the storyline lends itself to cruel humour at the expense of Miss Pettigrew or the wealthy people among whom she finds herself, but Watson deftly avoids becoming either saccharine or satirical.  This book is entirely without malice, and yet it is full of social humour which reminded me at times of Jane Austen and Oscar Wilde, although Winifred Watson’s style is very different.

The characters in the book are enjoyable and likeable: the sort of characters who make you hope that everything will work out for them.  Miss LaFosse is endearingly naive for all her worldly ways, and is full of warmth and understanding.  Miss Dubarry is hardened and insightful but also vulnerable and emotional.  The cast of accompanying men are equally amusing, and they are all believable though none are particularly complex characters.  It is impossible not to warm to Miss Pettigrew herself as she is alternately shocked and delighted by the new, permissive world she discovers.  It is highly entertaining to watch her adapt to her surroundings and the people around her adapt to Miss Pettigrew’s own particular character.  Coming from her mouth, Winifred Watson puts more meaning in the single word “quite” than many authors do in whole paragraphs of dialogue.

Dialogue is a paticular strength of this novel.  In fact, a lot of it is written entirely in direct speech.  This works extremely well in the scene at the party where this dialogue is all without a designated speaker, as it is as though the reader can overhear other people’s conversations without knowing who exactly it speaking, just like being at a busy party.  It gives the book the lively, sparkling feel of a Fred Astaire film and I loved every minute of it.

The beautiful endpapers from this Persephone edition of 'Miss Pettigrew'

I can’t talk about this book without mentioning the gorgeous edition in which I read it.  Number 21 in the Persephone Classics range, this book was as much of a pleasure to look at as it was to read.  It featured the original drawings from the 1938 publication of the book, some of which were lovely and really helped to give a feel of the time and place of the novel, and others of which were not as successful.  The pictures of Miss LaFosse in her negligee, for example, do make her look rather like a crocodile standing on its hind legs.  Nonetheless, I was glad that they were included and I’ll definitely be buying more books from this publisher.

Where this book goes: This book is staying very firmly on my shelves.  It’s a lovely story and the perfect antidote to a rainy day or a bad mood.  Everyone should own this book for just such occasions.

Tea talk: While reading this book, I was drinking Regent’s Park tea from the wonderful Yumchaa in Soho.  It’s a blend of green tea with pieces of papaya and pineapple, strawberries, raspberries and rose petals and may well be my new favourite tea.  Its taste is light and sweet and the fragrance is divine.  Go and try some.