The Sack of Bath was written in 1973 in response to the decisions made by Bath City Council to demolish large swathes of Georgian cottages in order to provide the city with newer houses, better access and improved facilities.  Fergusson acknowledges that the aim itself was admirable but the ways in which they sought to accomplish it were misguided.  With words and pictures he illustrates the ongoing destruction of Bath and issues a heartfelt plea for it to be stopped and more reasonable measures, such as renovation and preservation, be considered instead.

Although The Sack of Bath is just as well written today as it was when it was first published, it lacks the immediacy which it would have had in the 1970′s when the demolition and construction was being carried out.  It is interesting, yes, but in a vague and distant way rather than in an inciting-architectural-rage-and-writing-to-your-local-MP-to-stop-this-sort-of-thing way that I suspect it was intended.  The closest thing that I can liken it to is reading a newspaper article covering some terrible natural disaster and trying to encourage readers to give aid, but doing so nearly forty years after the event when everyone appears to have recovered quite nicely, thank you very much.  It just isn’t the same as reading it when it was relevant.

The problem is that the book is written in such hyperbolic language and strident tones that it implies nothing less than the wholesale destruction of historic Bath, which couldn’t be more different to what any visitor to Bath today will see as they walk around the city.  In fact, the most recent new development is incredibly sympathetic to the aesthetics of the city and blends in beautifully (or as beautifully as modern high street shops ever could) with the historical setting.  Admittedly this is probably at least in part due to the pressure of action such as the publication of The Sack of Bath but there is such a huge gap between this and the city overrun with hideous concrete boxes that you might expect from reading the book that it lost a lot of impact for me.  Clearly this book was influential in its time and I have no doubt that it did a lot of good, but I didn’t find that it quite worked reading it now.

The Sack of Bath by Adam Fergusson.  Published by Persephone, 2010, pp. 81.  Originally published in 1973.

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.

First, the reader is introduced to Melanie, a 1950′s wife and mother who has been confined to her bed since the birth of her child as she was taken ill with tuberculosis and has consequently been unable to see her child in case the excitement is too much for her weakened constitution.  As the novella starts, the doctor decides that Melanie is well enough to spend the afternoon in a different room to give her a change of scenery and she is carried to the Victorian chaise-longue of the title, a peculiarly compelling item of furniture which Melanie purchased in an antique shop whilst shopping in search of a crib for her coming baby.  There, she falls asleep, but on waking Melanie finds herself no longer in the 1950′s but back in 1864 and so the nightmare begins.

I thought that Melanie (or Milly as she is known in 1864) was a very interesting character.  When the reader sees her in the 1950′s she comes across as docile and rather vacuous, relying on her husband, the nurse and the doctor without any particular opinions or influence of her own, but there is still the feeling that there is something behind her perfect housewife exterior, an intelligence which she keeps hidden for some reason.  Ironically, it is only when she is transported back to 1864 that this is revealed: in the modern setting the reader is kept out of Melanie’s head, wheareas all of the Victorian section is shown entirely through her thoughts and reactions.  She starts to express her thoughts and try to act only at the time when she is most helpless and she no longer has other people around her to act as props.  The nightmare experience of finding herself in an alien time period is the catalyst which forces her to become independent and so in a peculiar way the reader watches her becoming free even as she is trapped.

The most thought provoking aspect of this book is its ambiguity; as I’ve observed, the reader only experiences the time travel through Melanie’s mind and so it is impossible to say what exactly is going on.  Is she dreaming?  Is she mad?  Has she really travelled in time?  She retains her modern sensibilities and is aware of herself as Melanie, not Milly, but also has some of Milly’s memories, so who is she really?  Has she regressed to a past life?  Can she get back or is she trapped?  If she dies in the past, what happens to her in the present?  The reader is just as confused and disoriented by this sudden, unpredicted change in the direction of the narrative as Melanie is and so is drawn into her panic and horror.

I found this book very effective and I’m very grateful to Persephone for introducing me to a wonderful new author, even if this wasn’t the book that I was expecting at all.

The Victorian Chaise-Longue by Marghanita Laski.  Published by Persephone, 1999, pp. 101.  Originally published in 1953.

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.