Human Croquet is narrated by Isobel Fairfax and is the story of her family and their neighbours in the village of Lythe.  Isobel and Charles’ exotic mother disappeared when they were very young, followed soon after by their father, leaving the children in the care of their steely, old fashioned grandmother and their irascible Aunt Vinny.  Even after their father returns several years later no one seems willing to talk about what happened or why.  In fact, lots of people in Lythe are hiding things and keeping secrets to themselves, not least Isobel, who keeps finding herself slipping into other periods of time without any explanation.

This is in many ways a very odd book, but it was exactly my kind of odd.  My family and I have always played word games and twisted phrases around on themselves, so Isobel’s narration reads rather like I think.  The text is peppered with her humorous asides in which she pokes fun at herself:

He runs a hand through his dark curls and brushes them away from his handsome forehead, ‘You’re a good pal, Iz,’ he sighs.  I am his friend, his ‘pal’, his ‘chum’ — more like a tin of dog food than a member of the female sex, certainly not the object of his desire.

At other people:

Malcolm Lovat.  If I am to have a birthday wish it must be him.  He is what I want for birthday and Christmas and best, what I want more than anything in the dark world and wide.  Even his name hints at romance and kindness (Lovat, not Malcolm).

And, probably my favourite, when she takes common idiomatic phrases to absurd (yet also supremely logical) lengths:

‘I’m just marking time at Temple’s,’ Charles says, in explanation of his remarkably dull outer life.  (Ah, but what does he give it?  B-?  C+?  He should be careful, one day time might mark him.  ‘Och, without doubt,’ Mrs Baxter says, ‘that’s the final reckoning.’)

Isabel’s narration is something that I suspect a reader will either love or hate, but for me it was one of the book’s main attractions.

Another aspect of the book that I particularly enjoyed is the way that Atkinson plays around with motifs from fairy tales (Cinderella and Hansel and Gretel spring to mind immediately as examples).  She gives the well-known stories subtle nods without ever explicitly copying them, in a way that suggests that all is not quite as it seems.  I found it simultaneously reassuringly familiar as I recognised elements of particular stories and unbalancing as what I knew of those stories indicated that things were not going to go as I expected, which is really how the whole novel works: fundamentally a story about family relationships, it is quite happy to have characters turning into dogs or time travelling without any indication that this is somehow unusual.

Atkinson has an approach to writing about different time streams which I have never come across before, but is so wonderfully simple I wonder why it’s not more common.  When Isobel is talking about events taking place in the main timeline of the novel, she writes in the present tense; when she narrates scenes from earlier on in her life, they are written in the past tense.  The clear definition between what has happened and what is happening is particularly helpful given how confusing and uncertain the reality of the present becomes, and I found the technique to be a good one (and how I wish Sarah Gruen had adopted it in Water for Elephants).  Given my dislike of present tense narratives I was surprised by this for the second time this year.  It turns out that I quite enjoy the present tense when it is used in a carefully considered manner and employed effectively.

Human Croquet is a bizarre and wonderful book which I suspect readers will either love as unreservedly as I did or find very odd indeed.  Either way, it’s definitely worth trying.

Human Croquet by Kate Atkinson.  Published by Black Swan, 1998, pp. 384.  Originally published in 1997.

 Wild Swans chronicles the lives of three generations of the women of the author’s family, from 1909 to 1991.  The book begins with her grandmother, who became a concubine to a local warlord at her father’s insistence.  After the warlord’s death, she flees from his house where she has been forced to live with his other wives and concubines, taking with her her baby daughter, Jung Chang’s mother.  In spite of family disapproval, she gets married to a Manchu doctor who gives everything up to live in poverty with her. Jung Chang’s mother grows up in an area of China which is under Japanese rule and the Chinese people are considered second class citizens.  An intelligent girl, she is recruited by the Communist resistence and begins working towards a free, egalitarian China.  She falls in love with a young Communist party member and they have several children, including Jung Chang herself, but each regime change, relocation or shift of opinion brings renewed suspicions, even for those as devoted to the cause as Chang’s parents and so she grows up amid the violence, intimidation and uncertainty of the Cultural Revolution.

 This book blew me away with its scope, its attention to detail and the way that it made everything make sense.  I had a vague notion of life in Communist China before reading Wild Swans but this book made me able to see how and why everything happened, the subtle shifts and insidious changes as well as the grand sweeping ones which lead to the situation in China being what it was. 

As an outsider, I’ve only ever seen the end product, but Wild Swans makes it perfectly clear that Communism in China was a very positive thing when it set out.  Its aims were clear, its systems logical and its demands for gender and social equality admirable.  Given that Jung Chang has provided the reader with a context in which to set this by describing the story of her grandmother, sold by her father as a concubine for political and financial gain, the changes seem all the more attractive.  This is where the book excels: although Chang talks about the political changes that take place, these are inextricably linked with the very personal, relateable stories of the lives of herself and her family.  It transforms the political ideas and dictates from abstract notions into concrete things which have a real and immediate impact on the family.  It’s all well and good to read about family members being split up as the party sends them to different locations, but it makes it real and heartbreaking to read about Chang’s elderly grandmother journeying across China, largely on foot, to be with her daughter only to be sent back to her home town almost immediately, or Chang’s mother miscarrying from the harsh journeying conditions because her husband refuses to favour her by letting her ride with him in his car as she is of a lower rank than he is.

Chang manages to describe a time that is very confusing politically and to convey that turmoil and uncertainty without once confusing me as a reader.  Her prose is lucid and quite spare but very effective.  Wild Swans is the perfect blend of the personal and the political and is an amazing testament to the powers of endurance and the integrity of all of Chang’s family, not just the women. It is at once a compelling story and a fascinating, insightful account of life in a time and place so different it’s like reading about another world.

Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China by Jung Chang.  Published by Flamingo, 1993, pp. 696.  Originally published in 1991.

Title:

Author: Julie and John Hope.  Illustrated by Sue Hellard

Published: Bantam Books, 1998, pp. 29.  Originally published 1996

Genre: Humour poetry

Blurb: A witty, charming treasury of traditional Christmas carols -rewritten by cats for cats – includes such classics as “The Twelve Days of Catmas,” “We Wish for the Fam’ly Goldfish,” and “Bark! The Hairy Scary Things.”  (Goodreads.com)

When, where and why: I was given this book by Father Christmas in my stocking several years ago.  I felt the need for something light, festive and amusing to read, so this seemed the ideal book to pick up before bed.  It counts as book 35/50 for my Books Off the Shelf Challenge.

What I thought: Christmas Carols for Cats is great fun.  It features twelve well-known Christmas songs and carols rewritten so that the centre around cats (as all things in life should, I feel).  The adaptations are clever and witty and they scan so well that I found myself humming them under my breath as I read the book.  There are a few contributions which don’t work quite as well, in my opinion, such as ‘Collar Bells’ which is set, unsurprisingly, to the tune of  ‘Jingle Bells’, but I found something to enjoy in every single song.  The illustrations by Sue Hellard which accompany the carols are perfect, bringing out the humour of the words and enhancing it through their appealing depictions.

One of my favourite songs in the book is ‘The First Slow Yell’ to the tune of ‘The First Noel’, something which will be familiar to all owners of hungry cats:

The first slow yell for you as you lay

Asleep in the morning on Christmas Day

O do not snore please get out of bed

It’s seven o’clock and I haven’t been fed.

O Yell O Yell O Yell O Yell

Feed me at once or I’ll make your life hell.

To lay a-bed is an awful disgrace

Get up right now or I’ll sit on your face

My furry paw ‘neath the covers will crawl

Fill up my bowl or I’ll caterwaul.

O Yell O Yell O Yell O Yell

Feed me at once or I’ll make your life hell.

Your last big chance now give us a break

I’ve clawed at your nightshirt you should be awake

I’ll niggle and naggle, be ever so rude

For nothing else matters when I want my food.

This would definitely be the perfect Christmas gift for any cat owner or cat lover.

Where this book goes: I’m going to hang on to this book to read again at future Christmas times.  It’s a good, quick read, great for sharing with others and guaranteed to make me smile.  What more could anyone want at Christmas?

Tea talk: I indulged in a whole pot of English Afternoon Tea from St James’ while reading this book and a few other little Christmas books which will be reviewed shortly.  It was rich and mellow and just what I wanted.

Title:

Author: Neal Stephenson

Published: Arrow, 2004, pp. 927.  Originally published 2003

Genre: Alternative history

Blurb: A novel of history, adventure, science, invention, sex, absurdity, piracy, madness, death and alchemy that sweeps across continents and decades, upending kings, armies, religious beliefs and all expectations.  Bringing a remarkable age and its momentous events to vivid life — in an historical epic populated by Samuel Pepys, Isaac Newton, William of Orange, Benjamin Franklin and King Louis XIV — Quicksilver is an extraordinary achievement from one of the most remarkable and original writers of our time.

When, where and why: I picked this book up from a little stand of second hand books in the basement of the Treasurer’s House, a National Trust property in York.  I visited it shortly after I had finished my MA so it’s been on my shelves for a little over a year now, making it book 33/50 for my Books Off the Shelf Challenge.  I had accidentally bought the second book in this trilogy earlier in the year without realising it was book two, so I snapped this one up when I saw it.

What I thought: If, from reading the blurb from the back of this book, you think it sounds a bit diverse and complicated you would be absolutely correct.  Quicksilver is a mammoth work which covers so many areas that it can get out of hand.  In fact, reading Quicksilver, I was reminded of that nursery rhyme:

There was a little girl and she had a little curl

Right in the middle of her forehead

When she was good, she was very, very good

And when she was bad, she was horrid.

When this book is bad, it is tedious, confusing, dull and frustrating, but when it’s good it’s fantastic.  I actually started it way back in February (which explains my excessively low book count for this month) but set it aside because I couldn’t take it any more: I found it opaque and thought it had too many storylines which seemed completely unconnected with too many characters that I didn’t particularly like.  I only picked it up again in order to finish it so that I could get rid of the terrible thing.  However, evidently the break was exactly what I needed, as this time around I found it fascinating and everything clicked into place, and now I’m looking forward to reading the rest of the Baroque Cycle.

The book was still confusing and was by no means an easy read.  It is written in several different forms: regular prose, playscript style and in letters where the real message is hidden in italics among the main body of the missive.  The narrative skips about from one character to another, in between countries and passing over chunks of time, so Stephenson keeps you on your toes constantly.  But this time I enjoyed the challenge rather than being frustrated by it.  I think part of the reason that it feels so difficult is that it’s such a large book that it can be easy to find it overwhelming.  I noticed that the novel is in fact divided into three books, and I think that when I approach The Confusion, the rather appropriately named second volume of the Baroque Cycle, I will take a break to read something palate cleansing in between the composite books so that I don’t become fatigued and disillusioned as I did with Quicksilver.  This seems a far more sensible way to tackle these massive, dense books and I would recommend this approach to anyone else.

Although there were lulls in between the good bits, when Stephenson gets it right his writing is perfectly pitched, wry, deadly accurate and very quoteable:

Daniel felt about the place [the Royal Society] as a Frenchman felt about the French language, which was to say that it all made sense once you understood it, and if you didn’t understand it, then to hell with you.  (p. 784)

It is full of encoded stereotypes, contemporary and modern, and biting satire.  He has an impressive way with words, and hopefully I’ll be able to appreciate this a bit more in future volumes now that I’ve learnt to stop fretting about the plot(s).

I’ve been a bit nervous about reading alternative history in the past, primarily because my historical knowledge of any given period isn’t sufficiently complete for me to be able to distinguish exactly what is history and what is the author’s own deliberate departure from it.  In order to verify everything that went on in Quicksilver I would have to research for years, and I have a huge respect for the effort that Neal Stephenson has obviously put into crafting his slightly off-kilter seventeenth century, but at any rate the events of the book were so bizarre (I seem to recall chasing ostriches in Vienna, although that was in February’s section so I may well be wrong) that I decided to throw caution to the winds and just to go with it.  I think that is the best attitude to have when reading this book, as its wonder doesn’t rest on what is accurate and what isn’t but on the world full of intrigue, real or not, that Stephenson has created.

Quicksilver is hard work to read, but ultimately I found it to be worth the effort.  The story is very tangled, but cleverly so, and the rewards for the reader who is prepared to sit and unpick the knots are great.  I’m very glad that my compulsive book finishing forced me to give this book a second chance.

Where this book stays: I was expecting to be able to clear a good two and a half inches of book off my shelves when I finished Quicksilver and sent it on to pastures new.  Unfortunately it seems I’m going to have to keep it now.  Ah well, the best laid plans of mice and men, as they say.

Tea talk: Quicksilver was most definitely a book that needed to be washed down with lots of tea.  On this occasion I chose Chun Mee green tea from Char, my favourite tea shop.  Chun Mee apparently means ‘beautiful eyebrows’ because of the shape into which the leaves are rolled.  I can’t say I noticed much of the plum aftertaste that the website mentions, but It was certainly a pleasant tea.

Author: Barbara Erskine

Published: Harper Collins, 1994, pp. 1086.  Originally published 1992

Genre: Historical fiction

Blurb: In 1218 an extraordinary princess is born, whose mystical powers and unquenchable spirit will alter the course of history…  Raised by her fiercely Welsh nurse to support the Celtic cause against the predatory English king, Princess Eleyne is taught to worship the old gods, to look into the future and sometimes the past.  However, unable to identify time and place in her terrifying visions, she is powerless to avert forthcoming tragedy…  Remarkable events follow Eleyne all her life as, despite impassioned resistance, her world is shaped by powerful men.  But her tempestuous life and loves tie her to the destinies of England, Scotland and Wales…

When, where and why: Sharon Penman’s Here Be Dragons is one of my favourite historical fiction novels, and so when I saw that this book dealt with Llewellyn’s daughter and would revisit all the characters I loved so much I knew I had to have it.  It caught my eye as I was browsing my shelves and so went into my bag to be read on the train.  It counts as book 32/50 for my Books Off the Shelf Challenge.

What I thought: Caveat emptor!  This may look like an innocuous historical fiction novel (albeit a rather chunky one) but halfway through it mutates horribly into a paranormal romance.  Now, if you happen to like stories of people falling in love with other people who are, in one way or another, dead, then you’d probably love this book.  Were I a publisher I’d probably suggest republishing this book and repackaging it with a greater emphasis on the paranormal element, because goodness knows that’s popular at the moment.  However, I am not a publisher, I am merely a disgruntled reader who feels disappointed in the author for choosing to throw this element in for no apparent reason and cheated out of what would have been a good, slightly trashy historical novel.

Initially, Child of the Phoenix was a fairly solid example of the historical fiction genre.  It’s a bit cliched (can we say beautiful and willful heroine?) and nothing spectacular, but the story races along quite well and I found it an engaging and quick read despite its size.  True, it suffers in comparison to Here Be Dragons, the reason I read it, but I was enjoying it nonetheless.  Even if the writing isn’t as good, I found it interesting to see the different perspectives that the two authors use to present the same events, giving wildly different motives and emotions surrounding them.  Characterisation is patchy and inconsistent: Eleyne is described throughout as an independent, opinionated, fiery woman and yet she submits without question when her first husband beats her to punish her for her actions, then has willing sex with him and snuggles up to him for comfort, which is utterly unbelieveable.  I would have expected, shock, anger and hurt, not the strange meekness which Erskine suddenly gives her.  I could live with that though, as most of the enjoyment of historical novels for me is in the plot rather than the characters.

Halfway through, however, the book runs into major problems.  The story goes round and round in circles as similar events happened repeatedly with seemingly no attempt to differentiate between them.  Then the paranormal romance strikes!  Now, I have nothing against a bit of magic in books, particularly the occasional use of the Sight or references to the old gods which seems to be ubiquitous in any historical novel with an even vaguely celtic setting, but this combination of strange visions and a ghostly love triangle was far too much for my tastes. 

Erskine explains in her afterward that very little is known about her central character.  In fact, she may even be two entirely different people that Erskine has erroneously combined, historical records are that vague and incomplete.  To me, the paranormal subplot which quickly takes over is a lazy way of attempting to inject excitement into the times when very little was happening in Eleyne’s life without having to develop the story and characters in a more difficult way without such instant appeal.  The paranormal occurrences are noticeably absent at times when important and interesting historical events are occurring, and so they really do just seem like a way to fill in the gaps without trying. 

Ultimately, I would have preferred this book if Erskine had avoided the problem of long periods when nothing happened by making the book much shorter.  There are plenty of examples of time being skipped over, just indicated by a dated heading, and so, at over 1,000 pages, I feel that she could have trimmed a lot of fat from this book and made it a much tighter read, without the need for a silly ghostly lover.

Where this book goes: I’ve lent this book to my mother, who will probably really enjoy it.  After that, though, it’s going straight to BookMooch to find a new home, not to mention to give me about three inches of clear shelf space.

Tea talk: I was recently given some tea as a belated birthday present from a good friend of mine, so I’ve been trying that out.  First on the list was some Golden Snail Tea!  It’s so named because of its shape, not its provenance, and makes a really delicious, light gold cup of tea.  Plus the name is just great.

Title:

Author: Anita Diamant

Published: Pan Macmillan, 2002, pp. 386.  Originally published 1997

Genre: Historical fiction

Blurb: Her name is Dinah.  In the Bible, her fate is merely hinted at in a brief and violent detour within the verses of the Book of Genesis that recount the life of Jacob and his infamous dozen sons.  The Red Tent is an extraordinary and engrossing tale of ancient womanhood and family honour.  Told in Dinah’s voice, it opens with the story of her mothers — the four wives of Jacob — each of whom embodies unique feminine traits, and concludes with Dinah’s own startling and unforgettable story of betrayal, grief and love.  Deeply affecting and intimate, The Red Tend combines outstandingly rich storytelling with an original insight into women’s society in a fascinating period of early history, and such is its warmth and candour, it is guaranteed to win the hearts and minds of women across the world.

When, where and why: This is yet another of my university charity shop acquisitions.  I picked it up because a friend (the same one who recommended Pillars of the Earth, which didn’t exactly fill me with confidence after the fun I had with that) was writing her PhD on Jewish feminist literature and this was one of her texts.  I read it now because I’m trying to read as many of my older books before the end of the year to clear them off the TBR pile, so this counts as book 29/50 for my Books Off the Shelf Challenge.

What I thought: The Red Tent instantly drew me in from its very first paragraph:

We have been lost to each other for so long.  My name means nothing to you.  My memory is dust.  This is not your fault, or mine.  The chain connecting mother to daughter was broken and the word passed to the keeping of men, who had no way of knowing.  That is why I became a footnote, my story a brief detour between the well-known history of my father, Jacob, and the celebrated chronicle of Joseph, my brother.  On those rare occasions when I was remembered, it was as a victim.  (p. 1)

The narrative voice, that of Dinah, reminded me a lot of that of Margaret Atwood’s wonderful Penelopiad which I read last year.  It was strong but slightly melancholy and conveyed the same idea of reclaiming the story of a marginal woman from a great male narrative, telling the story from a new, feminine perspective and revealing what ‘really’ happened.

Dinah’s observations made me realise how little I know about this part of the Bible (in fact, most of my knowledge comes from that dubious fountain of information, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat), so I thought I should probably have a look at the original story.  The Bible story deals with the dishonouring of Jacob’s daughter when Sechem sleeps with her (rape in the Bible story and willing in the novel), but is mostly concerned with the actions of her male relatives and how this affects them.  Aside from a mention of her birth, her life either side of this incident is never mentioned, so Anita Diamant’s story redresses the balance and fills in these gaps.

The red tent of the title is the separate tent set aside for the women where they go while menstruating to keep apart from the men.  Leah explains to Dinah at one point:

In the red tent, the truth is known.  In the red tent, where days pass like a gentle stream, as the gift of Innana courses through us, cleansing the body of last month’s death, preparing the body to receive the new month’s life, women give thanks — for repose and restoration, for the knowledge that life comes from between our legs, and that life costs blood.  (p. 188)

The Red Tent then is a very appropriate title as the book focused almost exclusively on feminine concerns: becoming a woman, giving birth and finding a husband.  I appreciated this insight into their secret world and I liked the idea of telling a masculine story to recentre it around the women, but I soon found that their preoccupations and interests were most definitely not my own.  The book was well written, but unfortunately its focus wasn’t one that appealed to me and so I didn’t enjoy it as much as I expected.  If marriage, babies and rites of passage are your thing though, this is probably a book that you would enjoy.

My only gripe with the book (after all, my lack of interest in giving birth is my fault, not the author’s) was that Dinah’s voice which comes across so stongly at the beginning of the tale quickly becomes lost in the story.  Every so often it would resurface, and I loved it when that happened, but unfortunately these flashes of character were rare and a lot of the time I forgot that there was a first person narrator at all.

Where this book goes: I’m not quite sure what to do with this book yet.  I think it will stay on my shelves for now, but it’s definitely earmarked for the next time I need to purge some books.  Its days are numbered.

Tea talk: After the disaster of the Brazilian tea I decided to go back to an old favourite with this book and so I’ve been drinking my much-loved Milk Oolong.  Sweet and comforting on a chilly day.

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.

Title:

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.

Title:

Author: A. S. Byatt

Published: Vintage, 1999, pp. 232

Genre: Short stories

Blurb: A new volume of stories from A. S. Byatt is always a joy, and this one is rich and rare indeed. In the same distinctive format as The Matisse Stories and The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye, this collection deals with betrayal and loyalty, quests and longings, loneliness and passion — the mysterious absences at the heart of the fullest lives. A woman walks away from her previous existence and encounters an ice-blond stranger from a secretive world; a schoolgirl draws a blood-filled picture of the biblical heroine Jael; a swimming pool reveals a beauteous monster in its depths. The settings of Elementals range from the heat of Provence in summer to the cold forests of Scandinavia, from chalk-strewn classrooms to herb-scented hillsides, from suburban streets to rocky wilds. A marvelous present for all A. S. Byatt fans, this magical collection will also serve as a perfect introduction to one of our finest contemporary writers. (Goodreads summary)

When, where and why: I picked this book up from a second hand book stall in Winchester last month when I was house sitting for a friend and had run out of things to read.  I started it then, but it once I moved back home it had to wait until I was finished with my other evening book before I could continue with it.

What I thought: As with most collections of short stories, some of these were better than others.  They were well-linked by the theme of isolation and the elemental focus of the stories and I thought the collection was a coherent one.  The prose was beautiful, lyrical and evocative and I look forward to reading some of A. S. Byatt’s longer works (I have Possession on my shelf) as I think that this will be even more evident when the author has a bit more breathing space.  Although the stories are very well-written, I got the feeling that sometimes the short story medium was a little too constraining and Byatt strikes me as an expansive writer rather than a concise one.

Crocodile Tears – Immediately following the sudden death of her husband, Patricia flees to Nimes in the south of France.  There she meets Nils Isaksen, a Norwegian who says he has also lost his wife and is writing a book comparing Norse traditions with those of southern France.  As the encounter each other more frequently, they each face loss in different ways and reach different conclusions as to what they should do.

For me, this is the least successful story in the collection, which is rather unfortunate for the first offering.  At 76 pages, it is rather long for a short story and hence it is much less tight than I would have liked, combining too much detail with too much action and so doing justice to neither.   I do like the idea behind the story, I just think it would make a much better novella as it feels a bit squashed as it is.

A Lamia in the Cevennes – An artist becomes consumed with capturing the blue of his swimming pool.  After it is filled with chemicals to treat for algae, he insists that the contaminated water be drained and the pool refilled at once from the river.  However, the river water brings with it a strange snake-like creature who begs the artist to turn her back into a human.

This story was incredibly visual and vibrant; all the descriptions were full of colour and life, allowing the reader to see the world as it is perceived by the artist.  I enjoyed the way that the usual progression of the fairytale narrative (human meets strange creature; they kiss; creature returns to beautiful human form and they live happily ever after) was truncated in this instance by Bernard’s artistic sensibilities.  He appreciates the Lamia for the unique element of colour she adds to his picture rather than wishing to transform her into something beautiful but ordinary.

Cold - A young and listless princess discovers that she comes alive in the cold when she is tempted out of the castle to dance naked in the snow one night.  She is an ice woman.  However, when the time comes for her to choose a suitor, she falls in love with a prince from a desert country where the sand is made into glass in huge furnaces.  She must find a way to survive away from the ice she loves without melting in this strange land.

This is probably my favourite story in the collection as it is a take on the fairytale, something which I particularly enjoy.  Like Angela Carter, my favourite short story writer thus far, A. S. Byatt does this very well; I particularly enjoyed the stunning resolution.  The descriptions are full of intricacy and wonder and, whereas Crocodile Tears felt very detached, emotions in this story are elemental, mercurial and often phrased as physical processes, making them seem even more powerful.  I love that such a simple story can encompass such complicated themes and emotions.

Baglady - The wife of a company director becomes lost when she embarks on a planned group outing to the Good Fortune Shopping Mall.

This is a welcomely short short story and consequently has a very different pace to the other entries in this collection.  Unlike the others, Baglady depicts a single incident rather than a longer time frame.  It is energetic and abrupt and I enjoyed seeing Byatt writing without the embellishment that I’ve already come to think of as her style from reading the other stories.

Jael – A woman who now makes adverts for a living remembers being taught the Biblical story of Jael in her religion classes at school (a subject which doesn’t really count).  She muses on her school days and what she has brought with her from then to now.

Until I reached the end of this story, it seemed to be meandering without any real direction.  Then along came the sudden, sinister ending which neither narrator nor reader is sure is true or not and suddenly it is clear what all the build up is for.  A. S. Byatt cleverly weaves together the strands of Bible story, artificial schoolgirl rivalries remembered and current conflict in the workplace so that all work to shed different lights on the eventual conclusion.

Christ in the House of Martha and Mary – A musing on the famous painting by Velasquz, inspired by two disgruntled kitchen maids.

I enjoyed the use of food imagery in this story, the eggs and fishes of Christ and the kitchen maids set against the elaborate dishes taken into the dining room for the upper classes to ignore.  The way the Bible story plays out in the contemporary setting is more explicit than in Jael, but in this circumstance it works well.  I may have to investigate this painting to see if there are any other allusions hidden in the story.

Where this book goes: This book remains on my shelves along with my other short story collections.  I know I’ll definitely revisit Cold and the book is worth keeping just for that one story.

Tea talk: The weather has been turning cold recently and there are days when it feels like we’ve skipped autumn and gone straight to winter (although I will no doubt revise this opinion when winter starts in earnest).  On the one hand, this is definitely a bad thing, but on the other it means it’s the season for smoked teas again.  I’ve been drinking Russian Caravan this week and enjoying its warm flavour.

Author: Donna Andrews

Published: St Martin’s Paperbacks, 1999, pp. 311

Genre: Contemporary mystery

Blurb:So far Meg Langslow’s summer is not going swimmingly.  Down in her small Virginia hometown, she’s maid of honor at the nuptials of three loved ones — each of whom has dumped the planning in hercapable hands.  One bride is set on including a Native American herbal purification ceremony, while another wants live peacocks on the lawn.  Only help from the town’s drop-dead gorgeous hunk, disappointingly rumoured to be gay, keeps Meg afloat in a sea of dotty relatives and outrageous neighbours.

And, in a whirl of summer parties and picnics, Southern hospitality is strained to the limit by an offensive newcomer who hints at skeletons in the guests’ closets.  But it seems this lady has offended one too many when she’s found dead in suspicious circumstances, followed by a strong of accidents — some fatal.  Soon, level-headed Meg’s to-do list extends from flower arrangements and bridal registries to catching a killer — before the next catered event is her own funeral…

When, where and why: In spite of my love of books, cats, tea and other traditional trappings of spinsterhood I am in fact getting married next year.  In the time between now and then I’ve embarked on a mission to find novels about weddings which actually have a decent plot and interesting characters rather than supposing that excessive amounts of tulle, lace and flowers are suitable substitutes for these.  To this end, I’ve been picking up a whole variety of wedding themed books and this one arrived recently from BookMooch (so recently in fact that I’ve not listed it in a Mailbox post yet).  I started reading it now because I’m not enjoying my main book very much (review to follow shortly) and I needed a quick read that I could be fairly sure of finding entertaining as a break from that.

What I thought: This is the sort of comfortable mystery which doesn’t make many demands on the reader: the murder victim is sufficiently unknown and unlikeable that the death isn’t distressing; the plot unfolds gently without any dramatic turns; and the solution, while not obvious, is easy enough to work out, even for someone like myself who doesn’t read many mysteries.  However, just because it was uncomplicated does not mean it was a bad read, and I thoroughly enjoyed the relaxation of reading this book.

Because the weddings serve as the backdrop for this novel rather than its raison d’etre, I found that it avoided the usual trap of losing plot and characters beneath enormous white dresses.  The story, while simple, was good fun and the characters were well-drawn and enjoyable.  Narrator Meg Langslow’s array of eccentric family and neighbours added a levity and humour to the standard mystery plot.  I was continually amused and how unfazed these residents of small-town Virginia are by the initial murder and continuing attempts on the lives of and her family and friends.  Her father is positively delighted at the chance for some amateur sleuthing, Meg’s mother seems oblivious, and Meg herself is more concerned with organising three increasingly demanding weddings.

In Meg herself, Donna Andrews has created a character with a very pleasant narrative voice.  She is wry and intelligent and her observations made me chuckle on numerous occasions.  Unlike the heroines of many chick lit books, she manages to be single without being either bitter or desperate.  She is exasperated by the various brides’ indecisions, demands and dithering without being scathing or dismissive, and the same is true of her attitude towards her family.  It makes a welcome change to read a book narrated by someone who is mocking and funny without being sarcastic and unkind.

Where this book goes: I’ve loaned this book to my mother, as I’m fairly sure she’ll enjoy it.  After that I think it will be back on BookMooch looking for a new home, as it’s not one I’m ever likely to read again after this year.