Let’s Kill Uncle – Rohan O’Grady

I love the title of this book so much that even without the Bloomsbury Group endorsement I would probably have felt the need to buy it had I come across it unawares, which for once in a way I might have done as it’s the only one of this summer’s set of Bloomsbury Group titles I’ve seen for sale on the high street. As it was it headed up an amazon order, which given that it’s also the only Bloomsbury Group title so far which was a totally unknown quantity to me was almost a leap of faith on my part (I like to know exactly what I’m buying so the internet is only for things I’m absolutely sure about which probably makes me just as weird as the customer I spent much of the afternoon complaining about...)

Now I’ve read the book I love the title even more – it sums up the plot and characters entirely; a little dark, somewhat mysterious, funny, disarming, and deceptively simple – or deceptively complicated (I’m still not sure which). This is a book that defies categorisation and laughs at genre, the main protagonists are two ten year old children and I would have loved it when I was in about that age, but would I have loved it more than I did now? Probably not because I think I would have missed too much, but I must find a young adult to try the book out on...

So we have these two children – a boy and a girl sent for the summer on a remote and beautiful Canadian island – but it’s a cursed community, its youth sacrificed on the battle fields of Europe and never replaced, which makes the islanders totally unprepared for youngsters like these who are more a destructive force of nature than anything else. (So pretty typical children really.) Slowly things settle down and then they get strange again when young Barnaby Gaunt’s uncle turns up. Uncle isn’t a very nice man and he has designs on Barnaby’s life (there’s quite a fortune at stake). For Christie (a very sensible young woman of highland extraction) the answer is clear – they have to kill uncle first, but how easy will that be?

Rohan O’Grady is a pen name for June Skinner who started writing novels in her 30’s whilst she bought up her children and kept house somewhere in West Vancouver. She must have been writing for her children, but she was clearly writing just as much for herself and the result is irresistible. There are some more novels out there and I’m tempted to track them down (though it’s almost certainly going to have to wait until the New Year now – and how much does being poor suck?) There’s something really unique about ‘Let’s Kill Uncle’ though if it were to remind me of anything or anyone it would be Shirley Jackson. However ‘Let’s Kill Uncle’ is a warmer more human book than anything I’ve read by Jackson. The landscape comes alive, and so does the situation – two children planning the perfect murder because they’re frightened for their own lives – two children who are aware of all the repercussions of their actions, and two children who have no-one to turn to despite being surrounded by well wishers.

I can’t recommend this book highly enough or really say how pleased I am it’s crossed my path. I really hope that the Bloomsbury group project continues and that they keep unearthing treasures like this one.



Mrs Ames – E. F. Benson

‘Mrs Ames’ was another of my amazon acquisitions from last month (I’m working through that stack slowly but surely) and I actually read it a few weeks ago but other things have got in the way of writing about it – mostly ‘The Crimson Petal and the White’ which absorbed so much attention that it didn’t leave much room for anything else, and ‘Mrs Ames’ deserves proper attention.

I’m very attached to the Mapp and Lucia novels but have had mixed feelings about other Benson that’s come my way, generally I’ve found they lack the ‘classic’ quality which make the Mapp and Lucia books so special to me and many, many, others so I was curious about ‘Mrs Ames’ from the outset – would it be a disappointment, a curiosity, or a proper gem.

Cutting to the chase it’s a proper gem (but I’ll also be taking the scenic route as well). The Bloomsbury group titles continue to intrigue me, the first round of titles included a couple that I already knew and some that came highly recommended (Miss Hargreaves will always be synonymous with Simon stuck-in-a-book for me). This second round has been more of an unknown quantity and it’s also made me realise that I had certain preconceptions about the Bloomsbury titles. I assume they will be light, funny, period pieces – which they so far have been, but there’s so much more going on as well.

The back blurb gives the bones of the story but it doesn’t give away much else, so based on a description of Mrs Ames reigning over the social scene of Riseborough until the captivating Mrs Evans catches the eye of both her husband and son made me think this would be a prototype for ‘Mapp and Lucia’ which was enough to make me buy the book.

The first thing that struck me was how definitely pre (first world) war ‘Mrs Ames’ feels. Mapp and Lucia inhabit a busy world that indefinably belongs to the active middle aged; Mrs Ames and her circle are just as middle aged, almost as active and somehow all feel much more redundant – their days are spent in the same round of socialising and gossip but there’s a pervasive lack of purpose; it’s just a way of spending time. Mrs Evans flirtation with Major Ames which ends up threatening social ruin for herself and the destruction of two marriages is born of nothing more or less than boredom. She’s not a deep woman and strong feelings seem to have bypassed her, so the thrill of fancying herself in love – of actually feeling something – is too much for her to resist.

Mrs Ames herself is a fascinating character, short with a face like a toad and a social dictator to boot – yet still I couldn’t help but warm to her. Long past the first flush of youth she still touchingly believes that a bit of rejuvenation by way of a good moisturiser and some (entirely natural of course, and not a dye) hair restorer and some spur of the moment paddling will turn back the clock. Finding her husband has been blinded by the far more obvious attractions of Mrs Evans she casts round for something and finds the suffragette movement.

I can’t tell you how much this excited me – for all my reading from the period I don’t come across much that deals specifically with the suffrage movement so Benson’s take on it in 1912 felt like gold dust. Mrs Ames takes up the movement by way of an autumn diversion not least because she knows it will annoy some of the neighbours. Her attempts at direct action are somewhat ill fated (and very funny) but what’s really noticeable is how the idea takes hold of her. It’s made explicitly clear that it’s the first time she’s really thought about anything – the results are even more intoxicating than Mrs Evans brush with love. Whatever the other results and embarrassments arising from this conversion Mrs Ames finds herself on terms of equality with a new (somewhat lower) spectrum of society. Trades people become people – my feeling is that Benson approved.

Finds

Possibly as in should find a way to pull myself together and work through the long list of things I have to do over the next few days, though actually as in Faber Finds and charity shop finds. Now before I go any further I want to make it clear that I have a huge amount of respect for Faber and Faber as a publisher, and everyone of their books that I owned to date is a thing of beauty both inside and out.

The exception now it’s come is a Faber Finds title – Robert Aickman’s ‘The Unsettled Dust’ that I got in Oxfam. I did wonder what it was doing there because these aren’t really cheap paperbacks (I’ve checked and this one would have been £13), and because they’re almost exclusively print on demand. Really the sort of thing you buy because you want it and not on a whim, so not the sort of thing that goes to a charity shop. I felt lucky, not least because I’ve been curious about print on demand for a while but haven’t felt able to afford a proper exploration. (I have a few Virago’s which are print on demand, but a brief search has revealed very little about their policy on this, and I’m not aware of being able to order up any old title that appeals. Which is a shame.)

‘The Unsettled Dust’ is a collection of short stories about the supernatural, and I wholeheartedly agree that it deserves both survival and revival. I was hooked in from the very beginning of the title story; narrated in a querulous middle aged voice it chronicles the strange atmosphere of a national trust type property. It really is quite unsettling, but in a very quiet way, nothing shocking, nothing terribly dramatic happens – but at the end of every one the world that’s known and safe seems a little bit more fragile.

The problem is that something’s gone very wrong with the resetting of the text, I have a fairly liberal view regarding grammar and spelling and will overlook quite a lot of errors even when I notice them, but take this as an example “But, as it to connrm me man s point mat runner communication” which I eventually deciphered as “But as if to confirm the man’s point that further communication”. This is a particularly atrocious excerpt but in the same story a character’s name changes from Agnes to Agnew (at about the same time that it becomes clear that the child in question is male), and although sometimes there were pages without noticeable errors the overall effect makes it hard to follow the plot or appreciate the quality of the writing.

The experience has made me wary of print on demand, and particularly wary of Faber. I can’t tell if this is typical, but I now have no intention of ordering any of the (few) £15+ titles on my wish list until I’ve heard good reports from others – I really can’t afford that kind of disappointment. It’s a shame and as I’ve been re reading about Faber Finds I’m feeling increasingly torn, not least because I’m comparing directly with the Bloomsbury group reprints (amazon parcel turned up yesterday and I’m off work for the week. Very happy.)

I understand that they are not at all the same thing, the Bloomsbury group books are not print on demand, but they are a nicely put together series of books which are most definitely being revived, publicised, and generally celebrated. Physically they’re a real pleasure to read with a particularly nice type (I love the Q’s). Faber Finds are printed specifically for customer orders and the list of potentially available titles is huge – which is exciting. Realistically a list this long and diverse couldn’t exist without print on demand, and again I can’t stress enough how exciting I find this list, which is perhaps why this particular experience has been so disappointing.

Joyce Dennys – Henrietta’s War

I’m very late to the party on this one – but better late than never. ‘Henrietta’s War’ was a charity shop find last year, and something I was particularly pleased to get my hands on. I’ve wanted it since it came out, but when I’m broke and choosing between a thin book and a thick book somehow the thick books win; more words per pence which is a ridiculous way to think but there you have it (I apply the same logic to biscuits which is probably why I should diet).

‘Henrietta’s War’ is quite a slim volume so I by passed it in favour of the rather plumper ‘'Mrs Tim of the Regiment' (also from Bloomsbury), wrongly assuming that they were much the same thing, and that both were essentially more of the provincial lady. It seems that despite reading plenty about ‘Henrietta’s War’ I didn’t actually pay much attention to what people were saying – something I’m slightly ashamed to admit, but again; better late than never.

Henrietta is a letter writer, a subtle but significant difference to being a diarist; comparisons to Delafield’s ‘Diary of a Provincial Lady’ led me astray but a few pages in and I was on the right track again. The letters addressed to Robert; a childhood friend, (with I think just the suggestion of old romance) detail Henrietta’s everyday life back on the home front. She doesn’t expect replies and the ‘letters’ are chatty, honest, and funny. I can see that they would have worked perfectly as a weekly serial, and think they work almost unusually well as a novel – Henrietta certainly compares very well to Mrs Miniver in this respect (this may be because of excellent editing; Henrietta is one of the rare occasions when I really want to know what the editor did and how much of the credit they deserve).

Henrietta herself was redeemed for me by showing her fear as well as humour. Confounded by forms and instructions, falling foul of blackout laws, paralysed into inaction when faced with a possible sea mine, and afraid of BANGS at times she’s seems almost unbelievably incapable, and yet... Henrietta conjures up an image of pre war housewifery when a middle class household, complete with two daily maids and a gardener, could be supported on a single wage albeit that of a Doctor. Her job is to run a household in a way that few of us could now imagine or aspire to (not in my circle anyway) but despite the anachronisms of her position she really does keep the readers sympathy which is a real tribute to Joyce Dennys. She makes me feel the fear of being bombed far more effectively than anything I’ve read about the blitz and without a single person being blown up.

It’s a further testament to Dennys’ skill that a collection of stock characters are brought to life so remarkably well. They really don’t feel like clichés at all and yet on examination the whole cast is there, if I could put my finger on precisely how she does it I could make a fortune (Or at least write a damn good book). I think it’s largely due to the affection between the characters – the sense of a husband and wife i proper accord and of peoples strengths and weaknesses held in equal affection.

I’m longing to say that if you read only one book about the war this year... but that won’t do because Bloomsbury are bringing out ‘Henrietta Sees It Through,’ so if you haven’t already read ‘Henrietta’s War’ then there are at least two books about the war you must read this year, or at least take the time to pick up and browse through properly. If the second instalment is as good as the first (and I’ve every reason to think it will be) it should be a real treat - the balance between funny, poignant, and evocative is both flawless and endearing.

Miss Hargreaves – Frank Baker

“The correct pronunciation of her name is, of course, ‘Hargrayves’. Astonishing as it must seem, there exist people who refer to her as Miss ‘Hargreeves’. Doubtless they belong to the ranks of those who ‘Macleen’ their teeth”

There are so many tangents I want to go off on tonight but I’m going to try very hard to stick with the book and leave the wider musings for another day. I’ve been in a book group (on line) with Simon from Stuck-In-A-Book for quite a while, and for quite a while he’s been recommending this book (strongly recommending at that). His enthusiasm for it was such that he’s managed to get it back in print with the Bloomsbury Group project, which I think I’m safe in saying, is very enthusiastic indeed. Dutiful to instruction I bought a copy but it came with such a weight of expectation attached that I’ve been unwilling to read it. I find nothing more of putting than the words ‘you must read this’, especially when followed by ‘You’ll love it’ (credit to Simon he said neither, though he did come down strong on buying it).

Reservations caused by strong recommendations aside I found the amazon description vaguely intriguing, but not must read stuff – or at least not of the stuff I normally feel I must read - what swung me in the end was how much I’ve enjoyed the other Bloomsbury Group books and it turns out I was right to trust both Simon and Bloomsbury.

‘Miss Hargreaves’ is an extraordinary book, and somehow not really what I expected, much darker in fact than I imagined. Two friends, both prone to flights of fancy, find themselves in an exceptionally ugly church whilst sheltering from the rain. In a harmless kind of way they make up a little old lady complete with travelling hip bath, parrot, harp and lapdog. The joke carries on when they write her a letter, and she not only replies, but turns up in person to stay, complete with travelling hip bath, parrot, lapdog and harp.

So Miss Hargreaves is born, and the mystery of what she is and where she comes from deepens – naturally nobody believes she’s made up. Not even her makers entirely accept that at first, meanwhile as she becomes more real she becomes more powerful until one dreadful night when she is endowed with a title (attitude to match) and cast of by her chief creator. No longer subject to his creative whims she uses her independence to wreak havoc upon his life, and he poor boy, cannot accept that he’s no longer in control of what he feels is his.

Norman and Henry’s (the Hargreaves perpetrators) biggest problem is the affection they feel for their masterpiece. She charms as much as she infuriates which makes it hard to take the necessary firm line; it’s partly hubris, and partly sympathy for an elderly and vulnerable being. The reader feels the same because Norman and Henry are far from perfect and they rather deserve Miss Hargreaves.

I really fell for the book on page 13 with this paragraph

“Suddenly the sexton whipped aside the dust sheet and disclosed the lectern, obviously a favourite of his. We saw an avaricious-looking brass fowl with one eye cocked sideways as though it feared somebody were going to bag the Bible – or perhaps as though it hoped somebody were going to. You couldn’t quite tell; it had an ambiguous expression.”

It’s a book I know I’ll read again and again for just such passages.

It also has a fresh dashed off feel as if conception to page was the work of a moment. Norman who narrates rants and goes off into flights about music and books which makes it all the more real which is good going for a book about what happens when the created character steps off the page and goes their own way; a dilemma I imagine most writers are familiar with.

Anyway I won’t tell you ‘you must read this’, but I will confirm that I liked it quite a lot (loved it), and definitely say that it’s a very hard book to quantify – you need to open it to get a real idea of it, and I would very strongly recommend that course of action...

The Brontës Went to Woolworths

I first saw the virago edition of this book in a charity shop about two years ago when for some reason I didn’t have any cash on me, it stuck in the back of my mind but foolishly when I went back to buy it went to the wrong shop and bought Barbara Comyns ‘Our Spoons Came From Woolworths’ instead (you can see why I might get confused). It was definitely serendipity given that the blurb on the back of ‘Our Spoons Came From Woolworths’ had not attracted me in the slightest so it’s an amazing book which would have passed me by. I got home, realised my mistake, and hared back into town to get the right book before somebody else beat me to the prize. (I’m sure Leicester really is full of Virago hunting maniacs tracking my every move and just ready to pounce on my rightful prey – after all what could be more likely?)

Fortunately for me I won out and ended up with a brace of excellent books. I read ‘The Brontës Went To Woolworths’ soon after I got it and loved it. It’s a book I’ve meant to write about for some time but it’s particularly forced itself on my attention over the last week – Waterstone’s have the Bloomsbury Group edition on 3for2 (it’s worth a look they have some brilliant titles – I know, I already have most of them and don’t know whether to feel smug about ownership or disappointed about missing out on a bargain). I bravely held out against the lure of spending money I haven’t got on a book I have, only to find a 1940 penguin edition in Oxfam for £1.99, it took me two whole days to give in to temptation and make it mine (maybe there aren’t really book hunters on my trail after all; if there are they’re not doing a very good job).

The only way I could possibly justify the outlay (yes I am that badly paid) was by reading it straight away which has been something of a revelation. I don’t know much about Rachel Ferguson beyond scant biographical details, Persephone published ‘Alas Poor Lady’ which I didn’t initially associate with ‘The Brontës Went To Woolworths’; ‘Alas Poor Lady’ is one of the angriest books I’ve ever read, it makes an important point and there is absolutely nothing light hearted about it. ‘The Brontës Went To Woolworths’ is a different matter, on first reading my impression was of a sheer flight of fancy; a fantastical ghost story. Second time round and I’m picking up altogether more.

Basically it tells the story of a household of women – the three Carne sisters, their mother, and a governess. At some point Mr Carne has died, and whilst he seems to have left his family with enough money to live reasonably comfortably I sense economies are being made. The family live on nerves and make believe, weaving terrifically complicated stories around figures that take their fancy; this also includes behaviour that’s essentially stalking by modern standards. On a trip to Yorkshire they engage in table turning which brings unexpected consequences, the repercussions of which follow them back to London. They also manage to make the real acquaintance of a couple whom in imagination they have been entirely intimate with – this merging of fantasy and reality brings its own problem, and the way Ferguson makes it all seem eminently possible is truly masterful.

Looking beyond the fantasy there’s the equally real problems faced by a family of women bereft of men folk in the 1920’s. Dierdre, the oldest girl (probably in her mid to late twenties) earns her living as a journalist and refers to herself as the man of the house. She’s turned down one (presumably eligible) offer of marriage – on the grounds that she was in love with Sherlock Holmes at the time – but I suspect that it’s through a sense of responsibility to the family; it seems likely that her salary contributes to the household and it’s unlikely that a married women would be able to go on working to provide for her mother and sisters, moreover she takes on the role of protector to the family. The Carne’s have a close and happy relationship, but they also seem somewhat isolated – Dierdre who could leave has chosen not to, and this is in stark contrast to Miss Martin the first governess we meet. Her home has been broken up due to an impecunious father, leaving her unhappily adrift in a life that offers little scope for personal fulfilment. The Carne’s intimacy, and rich fantasy world puts her well out of her depth, adding immeasurably to her unhappiness and frustration. Something Dierdre is certainly aware of, and sympathetic to, but unable to help.

I love this book, it sometimes verges on the disturbing and uncomfortable, yet is full of optimism and bravery. Essentially a Cinderella story – by the end fairy god mothers in the shape of an elderly judge and his wife have appeared along with an explanation of the title. It is nothing short of remarkable, not least because of how fresh it still seems. Bloomsbury did a good deed in reprinting it and I’m adding my name to the list of ringing endorsements it’s already got.

By the by I notice that Ferguson published several books few of which are easily available – if anyone has read any I’d love to know more and get recommendations of which ones to save for.

Miss Mapp

Reading comments here and in my online reading group it seems that the world is cleanly divided in to those who have read E.F Benson’s greatest creations and those who haven’t. Honestly it slightly surprised me that Benson had managed to slip under the radar of so many likeminded readers until I tried to remember how I came across him.

This was a process of elimination rather than a feat of memory – I know I read all the Mapp and Lucia books when I was about sixteen so I was either attracted by the covers on a bookshop foray or found one amongst my stepmothers books (she and a partner ran a small hotel at the time – their combined books for public consumption formed a fairly eclectic mix with lots of gems and lots of oddities). It’s also a process that reminds me that there are classics and then there are Classics. My Bensons are the Black Swan imprints from the late eighties – basically when I started reading them so I guess I was lucky to pick them up when they were easily available – a happy serendipity.

Because (I thought) I had the whole series at my disposal I seldom gave it much thought that Benson had all but disappeared from high street bookshops, my process of discovery followed by instant reading gratification after a quick visit to the high street isn’t currently possible which makes me curious as to why Benson is out of favour. He’s still in print after a fashion and with any luck The Bloomsbury Groups reprint of 'Mrs Ames'’ later this year will rekindle interest, but I still don’t understand why interest in classic Benson waned when he’s every bit as wonderful as writers who have remained available on the shelves of all good bookshops.

So – ‘Miss Mapp’, for those of you who don’t yet know one of the most brilliant villainesses in literature; a mean, conniving, spiteful, bullying, gossip obsessed social dictator who rules her social circle with an iron fist in a velvet glove. Frequently the glove comes off as she puts down any attempts to rest the crown from her head but its velvet all the way when she’s found out in some social misdemeanour. I love Mapp for the same reason friends can’t do without her; she’s maddening but she does make life more interesting.

I did wonder when I picked up ‘Miss Mapp’ what I would make of it after such a long time but as far as I can tell my response now is much the same as it was twenty years ago when I first discovered her – the jokes are funny because they’re repeated so many times, the fascination lies in watching a situation unfold and resolve. You could say that not a lot happens, but what actually happens is a form of everyday life and it’s packed full of scandal and interest as well as the more mundane matters of settling bills and saving money whilst keeping up appearances. I think it stays fresh because the situations are so recognisable. I loved the books when I was at school because heaven knows school is a carefully ordered social hierarchy – I love them now because the only thing that’s changed is that I’ve met more Mapps.

For all of you who said you had any of the Mapp and Lucia books but haven’t yet read them get them off the to be read pile dust them down and start reading without delay, you can thank me for the push later.

Au Reservoir...