In this book, Lady Winifred writes about her experiences of moving to a tiny mountain village in Provence with her husband, referred to throughout as Monsieur, and the trials and tribulations of dealing with a new country.  Not only does she come up against the barrier of language, both French and Italian, but also the completely different culture and way of life there.  Her collection of amusing anecdotes about managing the builders, servants and gardeners, dealing with local officials, encountering the dubious honour of being invited to a wedding, and learning to drive on the treacherous mountain roads are all told with a smile, and ability to laugh at herself and a genuine love for the place that is utterly infectious.  The illustrations by E. H. Shepherd which accompany the text throughout just make this book even more enjoyable to read.  If I hadn’t wanted to visit Provence before, I certainly would after reading Perfume from Provence; as it is, I’m only more keen to go there someday.

The section on driving was particularly entertaining, not least because of the way in which Lady Winifred anthropomorphises her cars.  There is the gallant English Sir William whom she has had to leave behind and her new little Fiat named Desiree because there is a long period of waiting for the car to arrive from the manufacturers during which she is ‘desiree mais pas trouve‘.  But it is the section on driving lessons which is most endearing.  My woes at the hands of the DVLA pale into comparison beside a friendly local teaching Winifred to brave the mountain roads by directing her up a precarious, winding track, completely unprotected from a long drop into the valley below on one side, which turns out to be a one way street running in the opposite direction to that in which she is driving.  Of course, she only learns this on meeting a rather surprised car coming straight towards her.  I also loved the account of how one of Winifred’s friends accidentally runs over her garden while Winifred is giving her a lesson and all the servants are enlisted to try to disguise the damage before the gardener notices, after which they gleefully conspire to deny all knowledge of noticing anything happening.

Perfume from Provence is such a happy book, full of laughter and fond nostalgia, and I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend this relaxing, amusing tale of French rural life as seen through the eyes of the bemused but affectionate English to anyone at all.

Perfume from Provence by Lady Winifred Fortescue.  Published by William Blackwood and Sons, 1947, pp. 274.  Originally published in 1935.

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.

Title:

Author: Brian Selznick

Published: Scholastic, 2007, pp. 533

Genre: Young adult historical fiction

Blurb: Orphan, clock keeper, and thief, Hugo lives in the walls of a busy Paris train station, where his survival depends on secrets and anonymity.  But when his world suddenly interlocks — like the gears of the clocks he keeps — with an eccentric, bookish girl and a bitter old man who runs a toy booth in the train station, Hugo’s undercover life and his most precious secrets are put in jeopardy.  A cryptic drawing, a treasured notebook, a stolen key, a mechanical man, and a hidden message from Hugo’s dead father form the backbone of this intricate, tender and spellbinding mystery.

When, where and why: I was given this book recently as a preset (thank you, Dave and Annie).  I decided to read it now because both of my main reads are quite long and involved and I wanted the satisfaction of finishing something.  This book seemed just the thing for a quiet read before bed.

What I thought: This book is unique among my reading this year in that the story is told through words and pictures.  By that, I don’t mean that the book has illustrations which accompany the text, but that it has pages and pages of beautiful drawings which tell the story without the need for words at all.  I know next to nothing about art, but these are undoubtedly excellent illustrations.  They not only further the story in an interesting and engaging way, but they are also full of emotion.  How Brian Selznick manages to convey so much with just a pencil is completely beyond me.

The story itself is basic, yet charming and endearing.  The writing style is pared down and simple, but I found that this highlights the intricate pictures by the contrast between the two, and while the text is necessary to convey dialogue and other aspects which cannot be portrayed in drawings, it is the illustrations which are undoubtedly the star of this lovely book.  I highly recommend this to anyone looking to spend an hour with a quick, enjoyable read that is guaranteed to make you smile.

Where this book goes: This book is staying with me, definitely.  It’s one that would be easy to pick up again when I want something relaxing to read.

Tea talk: This book was so short that I didn’t have time for tea while I read it.  I put the kettle on to boil, started reading, and by the time I remembered the tea I had finished the book.  I have learned my lesson and in future will sort out my brew before settling down with a book which looks as though it might absorb all my attention.

I think the reason that this book seems to polarise opinion is because nothing much happens in it. Psychologist Robert Marlowe acquires the renowned painter Robert Oliver as his patient, and subsequently travels around meeting people who might be able to shed some light on the reasons behind Oliver’s breakdown. The majority of the book comprises the memories and insights of these people told in the voice of that particular individual, and so takes place outside the narrative which is really a convenient framework for these first person interludes. This apparently frustrates a lot of people, but it’s what made the book so appealing to me.

‘The Swan Thieves’ is not a book that is driven by action but by a gradual development of the characters encountered, all of whom are vivid and fascinating. I thought the author used different points of view and writing styles well, blending first person narratives in the past and present tenses, third person narratives in the present tense and letters to create an elaborate whole piece by piece. Usually this sort of switching irritates me, so it’s a mark of the author’s skill that in this case I thought it perfectly suited the book. Each different bit of the writing told me more about the characters and it was this gradual revelation and exploration which made this book such a pleasure to read.

The Swan Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova.  Published by Sphere, 2010, pp. 607.  Originally published in 2009.

N.B. This is an old review written in 2010 and posted on Goodreads and LibraryThing before I started keeping track of all the books I read here at Old English Rose Reads.  I’ve decided to keep copies here so that this remains a complete record of my reading since I started reviewing books for my own pleasure.

I have my doubts as to whether whoever wrote the review quoted on the cover calling this book “a racy, pacy story with a cast of rogues and villains” has in fact read it. It was neither racy, nor pacy, and the characters weren’t fleshed out enough to be rogues and villains. In fact, it didn’t really have characters at all, just figures who appeared as the narrative required. However, while I wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the characters, least of all the insipid narrator, I was quite intrigued by the events she described. Chantal Thomas does an excellent job of portraying the downfall of Versailles, she just doesn’t make you care about it.

Farwell, My Queen by Chantal Thomas.  Published by Phoenix, 2004, pp. 256.  Originally published in 2002.

N.B. This is an old review written in 2010 and posted on Goodreads and LibraryThing before I started keeping track of all the books I read here at Old English Rose Reads.  I’ve decided to keep copies here so that this remains a complete record of my reading since I started reviewing books for my own pleasure.