Review: Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont

Weeks ago, I started reading Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont, by Elizabeth Taylor. I read a large chunk of it all in one sitting, and then somehow I didn't get back to it for a long time. I kept wanting to read it, but it's so soft and subtle that all the more varied or suspenseful books took precedence. Like the elderly people inside it, the book faded into the background. Finally, in a bid to cut down the stack of books I'm reading, I sat down and finished it.

Mrs. Palfrey, widowed, described as handsome or distinguished rather than feminine, moves into the Claremont Hotel in London. "If it's not nice, I needn't stay," she tells herself, but elderly people like her do seem to stay, regardless. On the other hand, "They Weren't Allowed to Die There." She joins others--Mr. Osmond (who writes endless letters to newspapers), Mrs. Arbuthnot, Mrs. Post, Mrs. Burton (who drinks), this contingent of the old who live in the hotel. Mrs. Palfrey tells them her grandson, Desmond, will be coming to visit her, but he never comes, and she realizes he is not the grandson she had pictured.

When Mrs. Palfrey falls one evening in the street, a young man name Ludo rescues her. He works at Harrods--but not for Harrods; he sits there every day to write a novel. Mrs. Palfrey, embarrassed that her grandson has never come to see her, convinces Ludo to play his part. Ludo soon becomes much more her grandson than Desmond is. Still, Mrs. Palfrey goes on being old.

There is something oddly relaxing about reading this. It's best read in large doses, and if you do so you notice yourself getting into a kind of lulling rhythm. This is by no means to say that the story is boring. Things happen, small dramas, unexpected events. It is often funny. But the tone is so gentle. The characters, despite their many foibles, are never judged, and so somehow you get the impression that the book will never judge you, either. The book seems to say that these people may be silly and old and not always nice, but they're still alive, so whatever they do, it's okay. Which is comforting, despite the unpromising view of old age the book shows. And it gives you a kind of trust in Elizabeth Taylor. You wouldn't mind entrusting your own life to her, you know she would tell it honestly.

I watched the movie a long time ago, and my memory of it is somewhat vague, but I don't think it preserved this quality of the book very well. It was good, and it made me want to read the book, and I remember it better than most movies I've not seen in years. Still, this comforting, trustable feel is one of the best parts of the book, and something that I don't think translates well. And sometimes, the least translatable books are the best, the most whole--they can't be picked apart and put back together again without losing pieces. I'm looking forward to reading some of Elizabeth Taylor's other books, and seeing how she tells other people's stories.

About the blog

You may have noticed that lately I've been posting more non-bookish things. Admittedly in the last month I've also posted a lot more bookish things, having more time to read, but that's not all I've been talking about. When I set out on my blogging adventures, I mostly only read book blogs, so that was all I thought to write about. More recently I've begun reading craft, design, and style blogs, and I've been wanting to write about those things. I've always crafted. I sew, I make jewellery, I embroider, sometimes I draw, I tat, I cook and bake, I take photos, once a year I make Ukrainian eggs. I watch more television than I should, and I need something to do with my hands while I do. Sometimes in the past I've posted about these things, but not in proportion to how much they are part of my life.

So, from here on out, I'm going to post more crafty stuff. I'll still write about every book I read, and about books in general. I tag every book related post I write, so if that's all you're interested in you can go on reading only those posts. If you're interested in the arty stuff, though, keep an eye out. Art is imminent.

Review: Amanda

I am beginning to despair of finding an Emma spin-off that's really good. Old Friends and New Fancies was wonderful, but Emma was a very minor character, and I didn't like what they'd done with her. Mr. Knightley's Diary was unmemorable, Perfect Happiness was rather ridiculous. Amanda is... far from perfect.

Amanda, by Debra White Smith, is a modernized Emma, set in Australia. They've changed all the names, sometimes quite unnecessarily and in silly ways--Emma Woodhouse has become Amanda Wood Priebe, Harriet Smith has become Haley Schmitz. I suppose I understand the desire to distance it from the original, but in some places it's just not necessary. Amanda is the CEO of her family's international travel agency, Haley is her secretary. Mr. Knightley, who has become Nate Knighton, is the heir of Knighton's department stores. Ms. Bates, here Betty Cates, is everyone's cleaning lady. Mr. Elton, become Mason Eldridge, is a music minister at a local church.

In some ways I thought this was quite a good modernization. Mind you, I only ever thought this when I wasn't thinking very hard. One thing that bothered me was that the whole thing was very religious. All the characters were church-going Christians, and the book made this very noticeable. I wouldn't have minded this so much if it struck me as plausible, but it never did. I find it unlikely that these people, many of whom are not at all connected except by proximity, should all happen to be so Christian. I find it out of character, even, for Emma. Or at least, the Emma we know. She's presented as being someone with not a lot of concentration--she never finishes her reading lists, never sticks to practising her music--and I know from my own personality that it takes a certain amount of concentration to be religious. Everyone in Jane Austen goes to church, of course, but that was a function of the era, and it says something very different if everyone goes to church in the present day. I suppose this is just like that movie version of a modern Pride and Prejudice that was made by the Mormons.

The other thing I disliked about this book was that it told the story from multiple viewpoints. Sometimes we see through Emma's eyes, but sometimes we see through Knightley's or Harriet's. What distinguishes Emma as a novel is the way Emma tells the story and interacts with the narrator. Everything Emma believes is true is fully plausible, and the unspoiled reader knows only as much as Emma does. When you give the reader the story through someone else's point of view--you let the reader know very early on without a doubt that Knightley is not in love with Jane Fairfax or Harriet, for example--you completely change the story. Emma gets the title for a reason--not only because she's the heroine, but because she's the storyteller. I'll admit, the author was probably not trying to echo Emma quite that closely. I doubt she put as much thought into modernizing the novel as she put into modernizing the plot. It's interesting, though, to examine how those two things interact in this process.

Reading this has reminded me once again of my opinions on professional publishing vs. the internet. I have read modern Emma stories online that I liked far better than I liked this one (try this), and I'm sure there are also better sequels and alternate POVs. Jane Austen-related fiction is kind of a great way to prove my point, as well. It's not like most fanfiction, where what's published in print is original, and what's online is not. Amanda is no more original than any Jane Austen fiction on fanfiction.net, and it is not necessarily better.

This is the last of these I'll read for a while, since the others aren't available from either of my libraries and I'll have to buy them if I really want them. I have to say I don't mind, as these books so far have been entertaining but not great, and I want to read other things. They have brought up some interesting thoughts, though, and I'm sure I'll come back to them.

Photos

Geraniums from my back yard, the Phinney Ridge Farmer's Market, random interesting vehicles. Summer is good.

Review: The Aviary Gate

I first read about Katie Hickman's novel The Aviary Gate last year over at Cornflower Books, and put it on my list. When I decided to go through my list and finally read a bunch of the books, this was one of the ones I chose. Lately anything about the southern and eastern edges of the Mediterranean has been catching my interest, so this book is well timed. It also fits into a plot device I've grown to like very much, of having a modern scholar discovering some piece of history.

In Constantinople in 1599, the English embassy is courting the Sultan, hoping for trading rights. England has sent a gift to the Sultan, but on the journey to Constantinople it is all but destroyed. It is a musical instrument, a clock, a clever piece of machinery, and it is being reassembled outside the Aviary Gate. One day, two of the Englishmen working on the gift are given the improbable chance to look into the Sultan's harem, and see his women playing in a garden. Shockingly, one of the women is familiar. Her name is Celia Lamprey, and for two years her fiancé, Paul Pindar, the ambassador's secretary, has thought her dead. As far as he knows, she died in a shipwreck. With the two so close to each other yet impossibly separated, they must find a way to get a message to each other.

In Oxford in the present day, grad student Elizabeth finds a manuscript inside a book from the Bodleian library's Pindar Collection. The manuscript tells the beginning of Celia's story, but it is incomplete. Elizabeth feels an illusory connection to Celia, and wanting to know more, and wanting to leave an unhappy relationship behind, she goes to Istanbul to find answers.

This book is wonderfully colourful and sensual, rife with fabulous details of life in the Sultan's harem--the silence, the whispers and gossip, the beauty and staleness of the palace buildings. So much of the story is about a power struggle between the Sultan's mother, who is second in power only to the Sultan, and the Sultan's favourite concubine, and the book is thoroughly suspenseful, letting its characters discover the exact nature of this struggle piece by piece. It's about this as much as it is about Celia and Paul, but everything is woven together seamlessly. Celia must discover and deal with truths about the harem as much as she must deal with the sudden hope of freedom. Elizabeth's modern story is equally a story of discovery, and the resolution of the tale which ties both sections together is very cleverly shared by the two sections.

It's rare I find a book which so powerfully affects my visual creativity. There's so much wonderful colour here, jewels and fabrics and Turkish tile. Something will come of it, I'm sure. I want to paint fabric with all this colour, and make something out of it. It's been a while since I read such a visual book, and it was a lovely experience.

I like historical novels like this one, and like The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane, that say something about history. As these books do, I think it's best done by showing someone discovering history, and being forced to look at it through a collection of things that isn't always in proportion to what was important. This makes me realize how fascinating I find history--it provides such a wonderful pre-made storytelling canvas, with so many empty spaces to fit stories into.

Friday Ephemera #47

The Imperial Hall of the Topkapi Palace, Istanbul. Consider this a preview for tomorrow's book review. Thanks to Wikipedia for the photo.

Review: Cotillion

July now over, I realize I spent most of it time traveling in the Regency. Seven out of the thirteen books I read were set during that period--two Jane Austen, three Emma-related, and two Georgette Heyer. I'm curious to find out where I'll be traveling during August.

My second Georgette Heyer, Cotillion, has quite a different set of characters from Black Sheep. Kitty Charing is the orphaned ward of old, irritable, eccentric Matthew Penicuik, who will leave his inheritance to her if only she will marry one of his great-nephews. She won't marry Hugh, she won't marry Lord Dolphinton, and Jack doesn't turn up to ask her, but she agrees to marry Freddy--or at least, she pretends to do so. Freddy Standen is mild and cheerful, not especially clever or dashing, and not interested in marriage, so it takes some convincing to get him to agree to a sham betrothal, so that Kitty can go to London for the first time in her life.

Cotillion was not so wonderfully funny as Black Sheep was, and it took me longer to get fully drawn in. I didn't take to any of the characters as I took to certain characters in Black Sheep, though I certainly grew to like Kitty and Freddy very much. Cotillion did have a more complicated plot, though, and some of the conflicts I can imagine took some thinking to solve. Kitty has her own problems, but it's so much simpler to try and fix other people's, and much of the book is taken up with that. This was a very satisfactory book, if not brilliant, and very good for a bit of cheerful romantic comedy.

Review: Perfect Happiness

Sequels have always made me sad. I've no problems with the kind of sequels that are planned from the beginning, that follow a story with loose ends to resolve. My problem is with books following the happily ever after. The only way to write more is to say it's not quite happily ever after yet. And it's worse when it's the sequel to a book I love as much as I love Emma.

Perfect Happiness, by Rachel Billington, is one such sequel. Also known as Emma and Knightley, it is sort of stuck with causing them a little bit of angst before the end. Much as I read a sequel because I want to read more about Emma and Knightley, the approach in Old Friends and New Fancies is perhaps more cheerful--cause the side characters angst and trouble, leave our heroes to their happiness. But it ends well, which is maybe all that matters.

Most of the way through this book I was exclaiming over the silliness of it. Much as I don't want to spoil anything, I have to give you a taste: Jane Fairfax dead in childbirth, Frank Churchill run away and increasingly disreputable, John Knightley bankrupt and in jail, Emma going to London to help Isabella through her pregnancy, a discussion of women's rights. Some of that might have served well enough; it's natural for a sequel to broaden its view a little. I like the idea of Emma reading Vindication of the Rights of Women. It's not that any of this was silly on its own terms, and if I forgot Emma for a while it was all perfectly reasonable. But the book had a tone closer to Bronte than Austen, and Emma and Knightley went through a lot of misunderstandings that I would hope they'd got past already. Let's just say, this is not how I'd have written a sequel.

Despite this, the resolution of the book was extremely satisfactory, even if I did want to beat everybody over the head for all the stupid things they'd been believing of the others. Perfect Happiness held my attention extremely well, and if it was sometimes far-fetched it was, at least, never dull.

Tea time

Every summer I host a tea party in my back yard. It has not rained or even been cloudy once in five years. Mango, ginger peach, and Irish breakfast tea, lavender cookies, lime bars, cucumber, chicken curry, and jam cream cheese sandwiches, thumbprint cookies, Earl Grey tea scones, honeydew melon, and strawberries.

Review: Interworld

I've always loved fantasy novels, but my favourites are never the kind with dragons and castles. I like the slightly weird fantasy, the kind with interesting concepts and a little bit of sci fi, too. Interworld, by Neil Gaiman and Michael Reaves, is definitely this sort of fantasy.

Joey Harker is an ordinary sixteen year old boy with absolutely no sense of direction. When his tenth grade social studies teacher assigns a test that requires him to find his way to a certain place in town, he doesn't think he has much chance of passing the class--especially not when he walks through a cloud of fog into a world where the McDonald's sign is plaid and his mother doesn't know who he is. Joey soon finds that his Earth is part of the Altiverse, a collection of parallel Earths separated by the In-Between, a strange realm that owes a lot to M.C. Escher, Picasso, and a lava lamp. The Altiverse must be held in balance between those Earths governed by magic, and those governed by science, and it is up to all the Joey Harkers from all the Earths to do this.

I love stories that make use of parallel world theories, and this one is especially clever, with the idea of all the parallel versions of the same person having the power to Walk between worlds. I expect nothing less of Neil Gaiman than thoroughly imaginative storytelling and wonderfully bizarre visuals, and he has certainly delivered on this. It's a great book, meant for young adults but quite universally enjoyable.