Phoebe Junior – Mrs Oliphant

My Oliphant experience is still pretty much confined to the Carlingford books but without reading the other eighty or so books she wrote I feel like I’ve got the hang of what she’s all about. I’ve also read enough to realise that Oliphant is one of the writers that I was sure existed but didn’t know how to find when I first went looking for women’s history. Common sense dictated that Austen, Eliot, and sundry Bronte’s didn’t spring fully formed from a vacuum but twenty odd years ago it wasn’t so easy to lay hands on evidence to the contrary.

I might have discovered a whole lot more about women’s writing had I come across Elaine Showalter’s ‘A Literature of Their Own’ back then rather than when it was re issued by Virago fairly recently. However Showalter seems to have a low opinion of Oliphant (which I’m loath to forgive) and which seems to be a fairly common critical approach to her work, it’s one I don’t understand. It seems to me that Oliphant has a lot to offer the reader both in terms of reasonably entertaining plot and engaging characters, as well as an insight into the lives of middle class women of the period.

The Phoebe Junior of the title is the daughter of Phoebe Tozer who set out (and succeeded) to marry a minister in ‘Salem Chapel’. Phoebe and her husband have done well for themselves, their children especially Phoebe junior may expect to do even better with good management and a bit of luck. Young Phoebe is very much aware of her worth and determined to make something of herself. (Oliphant returns to the subject of women’s education a few times in the book.) She is clever, able, and motivated but barred from higher education by her father’s position; not allowed to try for Cambridge “because Mr Beecham felt the connection might think it strange to see his daughters name in the papers, and, probably, would imagine he meant to make a schoolmistress of her, which he thanked providence he had no need to do.” Nor is she allowed to educate herself in the art of cooking because “Mrs Beecham objected, saying likewise, thank Heaven, they had no need of such messings: that she did not wish her daughter to make a slave of herself, and that cook would not put up with it.”

The books other heroine, Ursula May, has to learn to cook and keep house but despite a father capable of educating her himself, and brothers who it’s considered necessary to educate she and her sisters are left to learn what they can as inclination dictates. They lack Phoebe’s taste for self improvement as well as the opportunities that her relative wealth will bring. The future looks grim for the May girls if they can’t find husbands willing to overlook their poverty.

Phoebe though has definite plans for her own future albeit with a difficult path to tread. She means to marry money, or at least the son of money, but money itself is quite sure he wants ‘better’ for his son. A wrong step on Phoebe’s part would mean not only a loss of reputation on her part but it would make her father’s position very difficult, so when someone is needed to go home to Carlingford to nurse old Mrs Tozer and guard the family interests Phoebe is keen to go although living with her grandparents will put her in a very different and much lower class to the one she’s used to.

Ursula May the vicars daughter who befriends the dissenting ministers daughter occupies a higher social position but lacks her ambition, though she still has considerable independence of mind. She doesn’t overlook her father’s selfishness or bad temper and is clear sighted enough when it comes to the need to earn money, something that she wishes she could do, she’s also angry enough with her brothers determination to throw away a good position that he believes to be a sinecure reflecting that she’d quite happily hold it herself but that men keep all the good things for themselves.

What makes Phoebe unusual as a heroine is her determination to marry influence at the expense of love. It can’t have been a simple matter to write a character who could profess to want to do this and make her sympathetic at the same time – this is how she considers a coming proposal:

“He was not very wise, nor a man to be enthusiastic about, but he would be a career to Phoebe. She did not think of it humbly like this, but with a big capital – a Career. Yes; she could put him into parliament and keep him there. She could thrust him forward (she believed) to the front of affairs. He would be as good as a profession, a position, a great work to Phoebe. He meant wealth (which she dismissed in its superficial aspect as something meaningless and vulgar, but accepted in its higher aspect as an almost necessary condition of influence) and he meant all the possibilities of future power. Who can say that she was not as romantic as any girl of twenty could be?”

 

Clarence (the young man in question) wants to marry Phoebe partly because he to realises that she will be able to do these things for him (it’s probably an unlikely state of though for Clarence but an agreeable bit of fantasy from Oliphant).

All of this and I haven’t even touched on a) the rest of the plot, and b) some interesting comments on other writers. Phoebe declares that “One reads Scott for Scotland (and a few other things), and one reads Miss Yonge for the church. Mr Trollope is good for that too, but not so good.” I take this to be Oliphant both paying tribute to her borrowings from Trollope – she certainly utilises the plot of ‘The Warden’ here, and suggesting that she can do the job better...

More Oliphant

‘The Perpetual Curate’ should be followed by ‘Miss Marjoribanks’ which was actually my first encounter with Oliphant. I read it not long before I started blogging and wrote about it not long after but the details are a now a little hazy. I remember thinking it was a great book, and being reminded strongly of Austen’s ‘Emma’. Since then I’ve reacquainted myself with Wilkie Collins, discovered Mary Elizabeth Braddon and read Mrs Henry Wood’s ‘East Lynne’. I’ve also started my own personal Trollope odyssey, read a few dozen short stories by Dickens and his friends and flirted with Sir Walter Scott and Maria Edgeworth (strictly speaking from a somewhat earlier period but Oliphant mentions both of them so I think they’re relevant).

In short I’m beginning to get an idea of how much I don’t know about Victorian fiction. I did think about re reading ‘Miss Marjoribanks’ as part of this visit to Carlingford but decided against it, partly because it’s a longish book and I have other priorities for my time at the moment and partly because some of those priorities are to read a few more of Oliphant’s contemporaries; when I go back to ‘Miss Marjoriebanks’ I want it to be with a solid basis for evaluation.

In my last post I said I thought Oliphant exceeded Trollope – I’ve read about six books from each author and as they were both prolific that’s a small sample but so far Carlingford has the edge on Barchester and I think this is because of the way that Oliphant tackles her word count. Both had to turn in enough material to satisfy magazine commitments and fill three volume novels, but where Trollope seems to get bogged down in endless and eventually tedious repetition of the same point Oliphant introduces sub plots and running themes – or at least she does after ‘Salem Chapel’ which relies a little too heavily on sensationalism and blatant stalling.

One of the things that make ‘The Perpetual Curate’ such a delight is Mrs Morgan’s carpet. It’s introduced to proceedings again and again, and each time more effectively. Mrs Morgan has waited ten long years to become a wife, a wait that she’s increasingly aware of as time wasted. The man she made an idol of has proved to have feet of clay, her youth has gone and with it much of her beauty and for what? For a carpet that she cannot abide (see Wuthering Expectations opinions on the carpet as that’s where I started off on this track) and life with a man who has grown stubborn and set in his ways. Not by any means a bad man, possibly a man who is more lovable for his imperfections, but there is an undeniable feeling that Mrs Morgan’s happiness is destined to centre as much on her horticultural efforts as it is on her husband, and frustrations that youth may have shrugged off weigh heavily on her shoulders. The carpet is a symbol of all that’s imperfect, all the things not worth waiting for, and all the reasons not to wait – a visible reminder that patience isn’t always rewarded as it should be which is another theme that runs throughout the book.

The other very visible and equally tasteless encumbrance to Mrs Morgan’s domestic bliss is her husband’s curate. A man who will persist in calling at dinner time, especially when his favourite All Souls Pudding is on the menu (I admit to speculating about what this could possibly be – and have settled for imagining a sort of Cabinet Pudding as described here). It has to be admitted that the curate is a trying individual who checks all Mrs Morgan’s efforts to snub him by blandly ignoring them, thinking that by doing so he is doing his rector the favour of passing over the fact of his wife’s bad temper.

Whilst reading the carpet and curate interludes feel like comic relief but right at the end all these petty frustrations are put to use to make the final outcome of the novel ring true. Other sub plots and teasers such as Gerald’s defection to Rome, or Jack’s delinquency are made use of to provoke the reader into a state of moral indignation which is a far more effective page turner than the romance between Frank and Lucy which will inevitably come out alright despite the threat posed by Rosa Elsworthy.

What fascinates me about the carpet though is this – Frank is blessed with many siblings (I estimate the squire has produced about 20 children) and to make use of a few to throw in some topical moral preoccupations for debate is the work of a moment, but to sustain Mrs Morgan throughout the book as she does feels like the hand of genius at work and so I will give the last word to Mrs Morgan herself:

“...and such a vision of a perfect carpet for a drawing room – something softer and more exquisite than ever came out of mortal loom; full of repose and tranquillity, yet not without seducing beauties of design...flashed upon the imagination of the Rector’s wife. It would be sweet to have a house of one’s own arranging, where everything would be in harmony; and though this sweetness was very secondary to the other satisfaction of having a husband who was not a clay idol, but really deserved his pedestal, it yet supplemented the larger delight, and rounded off all the corners of Mrs Morgan’s present desires.”

 

The Perpetual Curate – Mrs Oliphant

Excepting eating and sleeping all of Easter weekend that I didn’t spend at work was devoted to ‘The Perpetual Curate’ in a combination of enjoyment and determination I managed to work through its 540 pages in a mere two and a half days (and make scones to sustain myself through this marathon read). The result is that I’m more enamoured than ever with Mrs Oliphant and have thrown myself straight into the final Carlingford Chronicle (Phoebe Junior) with only a slight sense of panic about where my next fix will come from.

Wuthering Expectations wrote at length about both ‘The Perpetual Curate’ and Oliphant last year – posts I keep going back to as I put my own thoughts about this particular book in order. Other Stories has also written enthusiastically about Oliphant, I hope more voices will join the chorus of definite enthusiasm for her work because she more than deserves another revival. Virago reissued the Carlingford novels in the 1980’s and its these that I’ve been working my way through, but considering that she wrote over 90 books of which the six and a half I’ve read are admirable it seems inexplicable that so few are in print or affordable (or for that matter available as ebooks). It’s quite likely that a good few of those 90+ are duffs but equally likely that a goodly percentage are Carlingford quality (which is excellent).

‘The Perpetual Curate’ is the first chronicle I’ve read that doesn’t focus truly around women. Even ‘Salem Chapel’ which was ostensibly about dissenting minister Arthur Vincent felt like it was actually all about the ladies. The perpetual curate in question – Frank Wentworth – has already made appearances in all the proceeding books, most notably ‘The Rector’ where as a very young man he shows himself to be the more able priest than the titular Rector who retires leaving him in undisputed if temporary possession of the field.



Arthur Hughes The Long Engagement



We pick up the action with the arrival of Mr Proctor’s successor in Carlingford starts to settle in. Mr Morgan is another middle aged clergyman who’s spent his youth in academia waiting for a chance to get out in the world and earn enough to marry, Mrs Morgan has had to wait ten long years for that particular honour and we find her trying to reconcile her dreams of married life with its realities – specifically in relation to a very unsatisfactory carpet.

Wentworth is an excellent priest, decorously in love with the charming and capable Lucy Wodehouse, intent on good works and not without expectations. In the interests of the plot though Wentworth is also distressingly High church and convinced that his principles allow for no compromise. The living that’s earmarked for him is in the gift of his aunts – evangelically Low Church ladies who cannot reconcile their nephew’s love of lilies on the Easter alter with their vision of what a good preacher should be.

The appearance of his aunts is only the beginning of young Frank’s troubles. He’s also at odds with Mr Morgan for setting up a mission on the man’s very doorstep and then there’s young Rosa Elsworthy the newsagent’s distractingly pretty niece. In short a sea of troubles that threaten to separate Frank from any chance of happiness with Lucy.

To add to these difficulties there is also a roguish older brother Jack, and a saintly but perhaps more troublesome brother Gerald. Gerald has turned to the Catholic Church in a breathtaking display of selfishness he declares he wants to remain as a priest – despite being married with 5 children and another on the way. His change in religion leaves him without an income and threatens to leave his wife not only without any material support but also without any status – not even that of a widow.



Hughes - April Love



But I digress. The real source of Franks problems are Rosa, she’s a forward little thing and has been lurking in the curates garden to flirt with a fellow lodger, but rumour links her name with the handsome young clergyman so when she disappears one night it’s at Franks door that the uncle knocks demanding justice and matrimony. Five years of blameless virtue are as nothing compared to the power of gossip especially with an enemy like Mr Morgan snapping at one’s heels and Frank finds his reputation literally on trial.

And that’s only a fraction of what goes on. In ‘The Perpetual Curate’ more than anywhere else so far Oliphant not only compares to Trollope, but in my loosely informed opinion exceeds him. The Carlingford Chronicles are clearly a response to the Barchester novels – I don’t know if they would be half so good if Barchester didn’t exist to be improved upon and refined, but it did, and she does. Her characters, especially the women are real creatures of flesh and blood, the situations they find themselves in are more mundane perhaps but they too are eminently believable and more than that every page breaths experience.

Seeking high and low – when life imitates Art

As a woman who’s fond of her Trollope’s (and even fonder of poor puns based on the Trollope family name) Oliphant’s, and Pym’s (and Pimm’s - there’s no stopping me tonight) I had an idea of what low and high church means. I like Trollope’s little joke about the high and dry church, everything I know about dissenting churches comes from reading Oliphant’s ‘Salem Chapel’ (which isn’t very much or very reliable because apparently she got little details wrong – but if it didn’t worry Mrs Oliphant it doesn’t worry me) and it’s Pym who made me wonder if the church was still a happy hunting ground for romantic complications.

My own church going has been confined to midnight mass at Christmas and tourism but personal preference leans towards smells and bells – I like decoration, colour, and a bit of theatre – none of which featured much in the Methodist and Presbyterian churches of my childhood, but all of which are findable in Leicester. I’m within a few minutes of three cracking churches – Leicester Cathedral (last visited to see Nosferatu) St Nicholas’s (built from the remains of the Roman city) and just across the street St Mary de Castro where it’s just possible that Chaucer got married.

I really like St Mary’s – it has a very friendly looking steeple (sounds silly but it’s true) and it means I’m almost home whenever I see it. Tonight the bells were all ringing as I came back, presumably in preparation for the royal wedding tomorrow, which always makes me want to learn how to bell ring but until recently it’s been a hard church to get into. It now opens for a couple of hours each day and mum and I went to have a look a couple of weeks ago which was quite an illuminating experience.

St Mary’s is high – they have leaflets explaining why use incense, why genuflect, why pray to saints so I think they mean it. Leicester’s Bishop (Bishop Tim) however is low and it seems there are issues. Who knew this kind of thing still went on? Not a heathen such as myself at any rate, but fresh out of Oliphant’s ‘The Perpetual Curate’ and it could be a scene from the book. St Mary’s lacks a priest at present – they have the occasional use of a retired priest from not so very nearby Uppingham but it’s not much of an answer. Meanwhile the bishop (according to the man in St Mary’s) is stalling with the result that the Church is throwing itself into the community in a way I haven’t seen before in my almost 7 years as its neighbour.

I want all the gossip to the point that I might have to join the congregation and see if it really is like being in a Pym or an Oliphant novel but meanwhile they have book and plant sales and do cups of tea, so I imagine I’ll be in there a lot more.

Salem Chapel – Mrs Oliphant

The second chronicle of Carlingford (or is it the third?) and I’m developing a proper crush on Mrs Oliphant. When I started ‘Salem Chapel’ I was a little bit daunted by the length (my copy is 460 pages which give a spirited impression of being more) but bar the last 40 pages it ran along just fine. That last slog is where the characters catch up with what the reader already knows and new developments slow down to a snail’s pace, it’s a bit like the end of the working day when the last hour (and the last 40 pages) seems to take forever.

Ostensibly ‘Salem Chapel’ is the tale of young dissenting minister Arthur Vincent and how he deals with his flock. I think it’s really far more about the women in his life; how they are both immensely powerful and powerless in society. There are the deacons wives for instance clad in an iron armour of respectability who hold sway over their husbands and the congregation; if Arthur offends the women (which he does) his job won’t be safe. Then there’s Phoebe Tozer a very pink and dimpled young lady who has the hapless clergyman in her sights; through a series of blushes and exclamations she repeatedly out manoeuvres our hero despite his devoted admiration to Lady Western – a lovely young widow who is as dangerous to a susceptible young man as she is kind and foolish. All these women hold and exert a very real authority over their society, and what’s more it’s an authority that Arthur is in no way equipped to stand against.

However it’s all about respectability and there are women less fortunate; enter Mrs Hilyard (a mysterious needlewoman with a past and a daughter to protect) and Arthur’s own mother and sister. The worm in the bud is Colonel Mildmay (a vile seducer) who absconds with Arthur’s sister whilst promising marriage. Unfortunately he’s not a single man. He has what's more been searching for his daughter who he also carries off, but the girl’s mother is having none of it and tracks him down with murderous intent. What happens next is a scandal that threatens to destroy the minister and all his family.

If Susan can be returned she’ll have to be kept far away from Arthur whose tenure is entirely at the whim of his congregation, but theirs is not the mother to abandon her child however degraded she is. It looks like exile abroad if they can find Susan – and it’s a big if. As things turn out Susan does return but in such a state of shock that it’s reasonable to fear for both her life and reason. She has done absolutely nothing wrong but her name has become common property and it seems life will never be the same for any of the Vincent’s.



Richard Redgrave - The Sempstress



There are plenty of holes in this story including an over reliance on coincidence, Mildmay is a two dimensional stock villain and apparently the details about dissenting ministries are not all they could be (I know nothing about the dissenters so can’t say either way) but Oliphant writes with such passion and conviction that none of that matters. This book really fired my imagination and evoked an answering passion in response. All those women felt real and all of them demanded my sympathy, Arthur and his struggle to reconcile his position as leader of his flock with the reality of being its paid servant interested me and I shared his frustrations but I can read that dilemma elsewhere. Oliphant’s portrait of female society is something so far unique in my reading life, she’s the writer I was looking for when I started to question the potted version of women’s history I had at school. I hope that by the time I’ve finished the Carlingford chronicles I’ll be better able to express how she makes me feel, and pin down why I think she’s important so please bear with me on this.

And the good news is - there are currently plenty of cheap copies on amazon UK - well worth the investment!

The Rector and The Doctor’s Family – Mrs Oliphant

Not one book but two novellas. I fell on Mrs Oliphant quite by accident a couple of years ago after spending half an hour scouring the classics section in Waterstones Nottingham for books by women. It ended up being a toss up between ‘Miss Marjoriebanks’ and ‘The Female Quixote’ (Charlotte Lennox – and still on my wish list). It was a happy choice; I really loved ‘Miss Marjoriebanks’ who put me strongly in mind of Jane Austen’s ‘Emma’ and was mildly excited when I realise that it was one of a set. I think now that the Carlingford chronicles probably have more in common with Trollope’s Barchester than Austen (Trollope and Oliphant are contemporary, but the Barchester books pre date the Carlingford chronicles and I wonder how much are owed to them?)

Since then I’ve managed to pick up all the chronicles – last done by Virago but now sadly out of print, they do turn up in charity shops and with the exception of ‘Salem Chapel’ are all cheap on amazon. Reading ‘The Mystery of Mrs Blencarrow’ and finding a copy of ‘Phoebe Junior’ reminded me that my Virago collection isn’t just for decoration and so I’m working my way through the set. First up was ‘The Rector and the Doctor’s Family’.

‘The Rector’ is a mere 35 pages long and bears comparison with Trollope’s ‘The Warden’ – both books deal with an aging clergyman in a comfortable living realising that they may not be the best men for the job. Oliphant’s rector has been a fellow of All Souls for most of his career, Carlingford is his first job in the field, and it also allows him to provide a comfortable home for his elderly mother. He’s a good and mild man with his heart in the right place but a lack of worldly experience soon tells. There is the vexed question of getting a wife, and the even more vexed question of how to help the needy. The poor rector finds himself wanting at the crisis point – and that’s really it; it wasn’t the most inspiring start to my project – not bad but not amazing.

‘The Doctor’s Family’ is a different beast altogether. The Doctor of the title is young Dr Rider – he’s saddled with a very unsatisfactory brother – Fred. Fred is an alcoholic, heavy smoking, lazy, irresponsible, all round bad egg who has already cost his brother one practice and now after a trip out to Australia has returned to recommence sponging. Things are at a pretty unsatisfactory point for the good Doctor when two mysterious women turn up on his doorstep. Fred has failed to mention a wife (whose money he’s spent) and three children, he’s also got an energetic sister in law who’s responsible for this sudden appearance from across the world.

Susan (the wife) is as selfish and irresponsible as her husband, but Nettie is a different matter. Despite being the younger of the two and unmarried she takes all the cares of the household onto her shoulders – its Nettie’s money that provides for Fred and Mrs Fred as well as all the little Freds (who are an appalling bunch all in need of the naughty step), Nettie’s energy that finds them a home, keeps the children clothed and the house running smoothly. Dr Rider is clearly destined to fall in love with Nettie, but can’t and won’t take up his brother’s responsibilities (feeling not unreasonably that Fred should man up and do the job himself). For Nettie however the responsibility is simply hers – she sees what her family is, realises that they are helpless without her and so gets on with helping them. It’s a very feminine thing to do but still leaves the reader burning with indignation on her behalf. Reason says she should pursue her own happiness with the same determination but heart dictates that we do these things for our family. It’s certainly what Oliphant did for hers – repeatedly. I think there’s a sense of frustration and anger here as well as a bit of justification; there was no shortage of Victorian women forced to earn a living for their families – the indignant female artist is an image that crops up in paintings (such as this one - Emily Mary Osborn’s ‘Nameless and Friendless’) as well as novels, the industrious but indignant lady novelist is almost a cliché. Mrs Oliphant is a voice for these women – and in ‘The Doctor’s Family’ she hasn’t wasted her opportunity.

Six of the Best

Last weekend Nancy Pearl did a top ten list of neglected classics (in The Guardian) ripe for BBC adaptation. It’s a nice list composed in equal measures of books I love, authors I love, and books I now want because of the good company they’re clearly keeping but... One of the books on the list is F. M Mayor’s ‘The Rector’s Daughter’ which is an amazing moving and eventually heartbreaking book which I can’t help but think would make for miserable television (girl leads loveless and disappointing life with remarkable grace and stoicism than dies) I think it’s a bit subtle for television. All of which started me making my own list of neglected books I’d love to see in glorious Technicolor on a Sunday Evening.

The rules (there have to be rules) were that I had to be able to imagine watching instead of reading, that there shouldn’t already be filmed versions (I broke this immediately), and that the lesser known works of better known authors probably shouldn’t be included (which meant ruling out Wilkie Collins and Trollope amongst others). This all turned out to be a bit tougher than I thought (damn all self imposed rules) but here’s my list of books, ten wasn’t a rule I felt I needed to pay much attention to.

It starts with Gavin Maxwell, there’s already a film version of ‘Ring of Bright Water’ but it doesn’t do justice to either Maxwell or this particular book. Think about it – fast cars, sharks, arctic exploration, brushes with the Mafia, aristocratic connections, confused sexuality, witches, amazing scenery, and of course otters – and that’s just for starters. I could see this being a properly exciting bio pic probably in 6 parts or more and based on all his books (for no good reason I’m picturing Daniel Craig hunting sharks possibly, and for entirely artistic reasons, without a shirt).

Now that the token man has had his mention... Mary Elizabeth Braddon’s ‘Lady Audley’s Secret’ is definitely begging for the Sunday night slot, any sensation novel I’ve read would be a good fit, but why this particular book isn’t much better known baffles me; plenty of sex and attempted murder with the chance for some lavish costumes – it’s what I pay my licence fee for.

I would also dearly love to see what E M Delafield’s Provincial Lady books would look like, possibly in a superior sitcom format. All that genteel bitching over the tea cups and pawning of the family diamond to keep up appearances, I’m sure it could be a winner or would it be better suited to radio? Hmmm.

Mrs Oliphant is another TV friendly writer who deserves to be as widely loved as Trollope at the very least. ‘Miss Marjoribanks’ is the only Carlingford chronicle I’ve read so far (though this is soon to change) and I would love to watch it – like a racier ‘Cranford’ with a few good female roles and a nicely caddish villain, a bit of romance, some tragedy, and a heroine who could give Emma a run for her money.

Elizabeth Bowen's ‘The Last September’ has already been made into a film, it’s got an impressive cast and I’ve only just found out about it via Google; the trailer looks rubbish . It took me two attempts to get into this book and I know that Simon Stuck-in-a-book isn’t much of a fan but stay with me on this one because it could be great to watch. The relationship between the Irish, English, and Anglo Irish is ripe for exploration – all those themes of loyalty, belonging, tradition, class, conflict, and then throw in a bit of coming of age drama and romance (but not to heavy on the romance please – there are other things in the world that matter) and bob’s your uncle – a thought provoking feast for the eye.

Angela Carter’s ‘Night’s at the Circus’ would be a belter to watch as well – hopefully ‘The Crimson Petal and the White’ will be such a success that those who decide will be looking around for another Victorian set drama featuring brothels (and would be happy to include a winged woman flying through the air with the greatest of ease). ‘The Company of Wolves’ wasn’t a flop - now I’m thinking about it I’d love to watch it again - and I think the world is ready to see more Carter. I love her writing but admit that not so many of her books would be just right for anything but a very specialised audience (I really wouldn’t want to watch ‘The Infernal Desire Machines of Dr Hoffman’ for example) but ‘Nights at the Circus’ would be a treat.

Making this list has been far harder than I imagined. It turns out that I have a lot of books I haven’t read (I sort of knew that) and so can’t comment on, and a lot of books which are already on film in one form or another whether I knew it or not. I don’t consciously go out looking for tie in novels, more often than not the book comes before the film but I’m clearly more in tune with semi popular culture than I imagined. Now all I want to know is what would make it onto your list?

The Mystery of Mrs Blencarrow – Mrs Oliphant

Claire and Verity are hosting their third Persephone reading extravaganza (on the off chance that this is news do go and have a look; there are a whole lot of competitions going on to win books and although it seems wrong to have a favourite Verity’s picture test is especially brilliant.) I normally stand back in a state of mild admiration for people who join in; I was going to say challenges but on reflection join in covers it, it’s not my strongest point. This kind of celebration though works even for people like me. I like Persephone books, I have unread Persephone books, why not read some Persephone books...

‘The Mystery of Blencarrow’ by Mrs Oliphant (I like the formal titles that Persephone grace their authors with) was a purchase from my last visit to the shop back in November, it’s been the next book I’ll read almost ever since. I loved ‘Miss Marjoriebanks’ but despite having turned up a few more Carlingford chronicles since I’ve got no further than an abortive attempt with ‘Hester’ when it comes to reading Oliphant. Still a pair of novellas can hold no terrors about lapsing concentration ‘The Mystery of Blencarrow’ is paired with ‘Queen Eleanor and Fair Rosamond’ and both have reignited my passion for the hard working and prolific Mrs Oliphant.

Both stories deal with the breakdown of relationships and the lack of options for a woman in an unsatisfactory marriage before divorce became possible. Mrs Blencarrow’s mystery is not much of a surprise – a widow still in the prime of her life marries in haste only to repent at leisure. For good enough reasons she keeps the fact of her marriage a secret but these things have a habit of catching up with you and it doesn’t look good for the poor woman. What Oliphant makes very clear is the potential cost of Mrs Blencarrow’s mistake. Marrying beneath her station means not just a loss of status but the loss of her children. Legally she is the property of her husband and expected to obey him in all matters – his interests must come first. Her children however seem to belong to her late husband’s estate to be cared for in the same way that the land is, she is not their sole guardian and it’s entirely within the power of her brothers to remove them from her if they should judge it appropriate.

Caught between a husband who neither loves nor needs his wife and children who adore and depend upon their mother what is Mrs Blencarrow to do, where does her true duty lie? I think I’m making this sound more melodramatic than it is – what really struck me was how matter of fact it all was and how terrifyingly limited a woman’s life could be by convention.

“Queen Eleanor and Fair Rosamond” deals with a couple just past their prime. A prosperous, well liked couple, whose eldest children are just entering adulthood whilst the youngest are still in the nursery – a good wife who interests herself in her husband’s comforts, a kind and loving father who’s lived an honest life until he quietly disappears. Of the two I found this the more affecting tale. The wife in this case realises that she doesn’t really want her husband back and so forgives gross selfishness on his part. Quiet separation may sound respectable enough but it seems to me that being neither wife nor widow isn’t much of a position to find yourself in. The husband of the piece puts himself in the way of fairly thorough reprisals which his wife declines to take – but had she chosen to do so I imagine the scandal would be worse than the chosen course of do nothing, say nothing.

Mrs Oliphant seems calm enough about the fate of her heroines but they made my inner feminist roar; this is why we needed the vote and a voice. I’m glad I’ve finally read this book it’s been thoroughly provoking which was timely, it also fits beautifully into the Persephone tradition of confounding my expectations – for every happy, cosy, read there seems to be something a little darker. This book is sending me to bed happy that my life has more choices than boundaries.