All

Stuck in a Book’s Weekend Miscellany

StuckinaBook All 8 Comments

That early summer sunshine we got last week seems to have hidden again, so I hope you have a nice March weekend planned. I’ll be visiting friends in various locations, and probably not getting much reading done. But I can leave you with a book, a blog post, and a link… (and don’t forget that the #1965Club is only a few weeks away!)

1.) The blog post – is Karen’s/Kaggsy’s excellent review of Olivia Laing’s wonderful book To The River. Go over and find out more…

2.) The link – I won’t often link to rap battles, but this one is an exception.

3.) The book – now that I’ve read Paul Collins’ excellent book about Shakespeare, I’m going to have to read Sixpence House, about the time he and his family lived in Hay-on-Wye. Since I’m not buying books this year, that could be tricky…

A few more movies

StuckinaBook All 2 Comments

Recently, I wrote about some of the films I’d been watching. Well, dear reader, I’ve been watching some more. This time of year brings all sorts of Oscar contenders, of course, and I love keeping an eye on what wins – though all I really wanted was for both Olivia Colman and Glenn Close to win, which was obviously impossible. Here’s a few more movies that I’ve been watching recently:

The Wife

I wanted to see The Wife when it came out, but it didn’t seem to come to Oxford. Now it’s available to watch at home for less than half the price of a cinema ticket, so I did that. I haven’t read the Meg Wolitzer novel it’s based on, but this tale of a woman living in the shadow of her husband’s literary success is brilliant. They travel to accept his Nobel Prize, and things begin to unravel. Jonathan Pryce is great as the husband, but Glenn Close is extraordinary as the wife. In any other year, she’d have nabbed the Oscar, no problem.

Green Book

It just won Best Film at the Oscars, so you probably know all about this one – it’s the 1960s, and a white Italian-American is the chauffeur for African-American musician Don Shirley. As they drive around the south, on routes labelled in the ‘green book’ as safe for black people, they learn from one another. It does get trite at times, and Tony’s racism is solved in a heartbeat, but I think it could have been a lot more trite and dodged some pitfalls. Great performances – and, in a year for film that hasn’t been particularly inspiring, not a terrible choice for the best film IMO.

Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Melissa McCarthy and Richard E. Grant are brilliant in this dark comedy based on the real-life biographer and literary forger Lee Israel. I also loved that a film just expected us to know who Noel Coward is, which is refreshing. Both the leads got Oscar noms and deservedly so.

Bareilly Ki Barfi

My colleague Rishi has started recommending Bollywood films to me, and this was the first (available on Netflix, in the UK at least). It’s funny and lively and also rather bittersweet – a headstrong woman reads a novel where the heroine seems exactly like her, and she sets out to meet the author. The only problem is that it was written under someone else’s identity. Unusually for a romantic comedy, it was genuinely unclear who she’d choose at times. Some great songs, too.

Tanu Weds Manu

Another Bollywood film – this time based on googling “best Bollywood romantic comedies”. A young man is being introduced to various different potential brides, but falls for the one who is constantly rude to him. Sparks fly, etc., and none of it is believable but all of it is fun.

The Blind Side

Another true story – Sandra Bullock plays a Christian mother who decides to take in a young black man who is excellent at American football and from a disadvantaged background. It felt very like a made-for-TV afternoon movie, and it must have been a lean year that meant it got a Best Film Oscar nom and Bullock won Best Actress. I mean, it was enjoyable enough, but that’s pretty much it.

 

The Book of William by Paul Collins

StuckinaBook All , , , , 2 Comments

It’s only February, but I’m pretty sure I’ve read one of my books of the year – The Book of William by Paul Collins, published in 2009. The subtitle is a little misleading, but it gives you the gist: ‘How Shakespeare’s First Folio Conquered the World’.

I bought it in 2013, when I was working for the Rare Books department at the Bodleian and had been commissioned to write a very short biography of Shakespeare (and accounts of various portraits, false portraits, etc.) to accompany a DVD of adaptations of his plays. I never found out if that text was used (though I do remember that my first draft of the biography was rejected for “having too many facts” and “not being swooning enough”). But it did reignite my interest in Shakespeare – I picked up this book and James Shapiro’s excellent Contested Will around this time.

Collins’ book looks at various stages in the First Folio’s history – starting, understandably, with its creation. Shakespeare died a few years before it was printed, and there wasn’t much precedent for printing plays on such a grand scale – but he had champions of his work who saw that it happened. I’d learned quite a lot of this section before, at university and in other books, but Collins puts it together excellently. My attention was already caught.

My favourite sections of The Book of William were the next few chapters – more or less the bulk of the book, I suppose – looking at the waxing and waning of Shakespeare’s popularity. And these ups and downs sometimes, but not always, coincided with the popularity of the First Folio in the secondhand market. Collins’ accounts of rival editors in the 18th century is brilliant. One of them was Alexander Pope, no less, and his hacking away of Shakespeare’s plays led to a bitter back and forth with an editor, Theobald, who had a much more rigorous respect for the original – and wasn’t above publishing a book which highlighted hundreds of Pope’s errors.

We dart all over the place, as the account moves on. There is the gentlemen in the middle of nowhere, who stopped being a successful businessman to launch an exhaustive project to discover all the differences between the remaining First Folios, and their ownership, in an enormous five-volume series. There is the Folger Library’s collection of folios, as well as the mirror machines they use to trace distinctions between them. It’s all worlds away from a man from Stratford writing out blank verse, and fascinating to see how many chance or unlikely steps in between that moment and the present have led to his reputation – and that of this first printed collection of his plays (albeit incomplete).

I can join the ranks of those who have held a First Folio. Again, the Bodleian – I was able to look through a copy, and was amused that a previous ownership had amended the list of plays, adding or removing them according to their own beliefs about canonicity. Most of the editions Collins looks at have been similarly desecrated by earlier owners, unaware of how sacred these books would become. And some of the most tantalising moments are those that come from a similar unawareness – plays lost to history, or First Folios that disappear. As Collins points out, it’s not a particularly rare book (as these things go), with over 200 known to still exist. I own books with shorter print runs than that. A combination of things – Shakespeare’s genius, lore about the book, and of course demand – make it so valuable.

I have to admit that the end of the book sort of petered out for me. We are taken to Japan, and left there. I suppose it would be difficult to resolve something that can never truly end – for the history of the First Folio will continue and continue. And any scholars will be frustrated using this book, because there are no footnotes or sourcing – all the statements are doubtless well researched, but have to be taken at Collins’ word.

The accounts would be interesting in any writer’s hand, but Collins brings something special to this book. I love anything which foregrounds the author’s own experience of researching the book – so he is always present as we journey with him around the world. His tone perfectly captures reverence, fascination, and amusement at the absurdity of many moments in the history he relays. It’s made me all the keener to read his book about Hay-on-Wye – and also to find more and more to read about Shakespeare’s legacy. A real treat.

Stuck in a Book’s Weekend Miscellany

StuckinaBook All 9 Comments

I’m kicking off the weekend with brunch AND lunch. Don’t believe anybody who says that brunch should replace lunch. And then hopefully a bit of reading, and probably quite a lot of sleeping. I hope you’ve got a good weekend lined up – and here’s the usual book, blog post, and link to help you get it started.

1.) The book – I don’t think I’ve mentioned yet that a new Helen Oyeyemi novel is coming out soon. Have I read all the ones I already have? No. Do I still really want this? Of course. Find out more about Gingerbread. (And isn’t it a lovely cover?)

2.) The link – want to know how many cows you could have bought with a certain number of pounds in 1600? More seriously, this currency converter from the National Archives will help out anybody reading historical fiction – if you’re trying to work out the wealth of various folk in the book you’re reading.

3.) The blog post – do check out JacquiWine’s excellent review of the extraordinary memoir More Was Lost by Eleanor Perenyi. Warning – you’ll want to buy the book.

Dancing With Mrs Dalloway by Celia Blue Johnson

StuckinaBook All , , , 5 Comments

I always wonder at the wisdom of including specific books/authors/characters in the titles of books about books. In case you’re thinking “Simon, surely that doesn’t happen very often”, I can think of a few other examples – Tolstoy and the Purple Chair by Nina Sankovitch, Dear Farenheit 451 by Annie Spence, Nabokov’s Butterfly by Rick Gekoksi. I have actually read all of those, and particularly loved Sankovitch’s book, but I did have to get over the barrier that I’m not particularly interested in Tolstoy. As it turns out, he only gets a brief mention – the book is really about reading a book a day for a year, to process grief. Anybody who read it because they love Tolstoy would probably be disappointed.

Why do people keep doing these titles? I don’t know. But Celia Blue Johnson’s book Dancing With Mrs Dalloway (2011) is another example – the subtitle, ‘stories of the inspiration behind great works of literature’, is a far more accurate representation of what’s in the book. Mrs Dalloway is just one of the 50 books that Johnson discusses, in short chapters that look at the genesis of the works in question.

It’s a fascinating premise for a collection, and there has obviously been an awful lot of research – or at least an awful lot of opening an author’s biography and paraphrasing a section from it. She has divided them into fairly meaningless categories (“in the telling”, “catch me if you can”, etc.), but basically it’s a random order. They range significantly, from authors who fictionalised people they knew to those who ‘saw’ the story in a dream. The prosaic truth is that most authors just have an idea and then slog away at it, but Johnson does an excellent job at making the book really interesting, even from the less promising accounts. I think it’s probably because the sections are short – we don’t have time to get bored.

The selection of books is a good range of classics, and a who’s who of books I should probably have already read (I’ve only read 20 of the 50). It maybe leans a little towards American literature, but there is a good international showing – I suspect nobody would feel short-changed about what’s included. And if any of the tid-bits particularly catch your eye, then there are further reading suggestions at the end. Basically, what’s not to like?

 

Mr Blandings Builds His Dream House by Eric Hodgins

StuckinaBook All , , , 19 Comments

I really should start making better note of where I get my book recommendations, because I do like to acknowledge them properly. All I know is that Mr Blandings Builds His Dream House by Eric Hodgins (1946) had been on my Amazon wishlist for quite a few years when I bought a copy in the US in 2015. And what a nice copy it is – or was; it rather fell apart as I read it, sadly. Though perhaps appropriately. Anyway, many thanks to whoever suggested it!

Project Names brought this one to the fore. Indeed, when I was thinking about reading books with names in the title, as a loose project, it was this novel that came to mind first. I didn’t know anything about it. I haven’t seen the 1948 Cary Grant film, though I’d be keen to, and I kept getting it mixed up with V.S. Naipaul’s A House for Mr Biswas (which I haven’t read, but I imagine is very different). I love books about houses, I love books from the ’40s, and I was excited to start it. And, you know what? It’s great fun.

The sweet old farmhouse burrowed into the upward slope of the land so deeply that you could enter either its bottom or middle floor at ground level. Its window trim was delicate and the lights in its sash were a bubbly amethyst. Its rooftree seemed to sway a little against the sky, and the massive chimney that rose out of it tilted a fraction to the south. Where the white paint was flecking off on the siding, there showed beneath it the faint blush of what must once have been a rich, dense red.

It’s not often that the title of a novel sums up the whole plot, but it pretty much does here. It’s unusual for a novel to have a single arc of action, uninterrupted by subplots or a broader scope, but Mr Blandings Builds His Dream House is that book. It’s very impressive. Whenever I’m trying to write, I find sustaining the interest – and sufficient words – for a full scene is often quite tricky. In this novel, Hodgins starts with Mr and Mrs Blandings house-hunting, and steadily takes us through every moment of the process of finding and buying the house, changing their mind about what to do next, hiring an architect, constructing a property, and getting the fittings in. More impressively, it is very funny and very engaging.

I particularly love reading about every step of house buying/building/decorating when I’m not having to do it myself. And thank goodness I didn’t read this while I was buying my own flat, because every stage of the process goes wrong. Not in a Laurel and Hardy broad comedy way, but through a very believable series of mishaps and poor decisions. Whether it is the estate agent’s bluster, or the architect’s lack of realism, or the difficulty of finding a water source, everything adds a complication. Mr and Mrs Blandings blunder on, squabbling and occasionally remorseful, but keeping their vision of a completed home in mind.

The most remarkable thing about Hogdins’ writing is its even pace, and the way that it is clearly unhurried while still keeping the reader hooked. Ultimately we know that nothing particularly momentous is likely to happen, and the humour is kept up so we never feel too much like we’re witnessing a tragedy. My only major quibble with this edition (and, I believe, most other editions) is the illustrator. William Steig is well regarded, but his cartoons lean heavily towards the broad and fantastical, and are (to my mind) completely out of keeping with the tone of the book. It’s a shame, because he would definitely enhance a different type of book, but I found myself rather dreading them appearing. It spoiled the effect of the restrained, human prose.

But yes, what a fun, clever, well written book. Nothing showy or over the top, and the perfect thing to read if you are well settled in a house you don’t want to sell, renovate, or decorate.

Stuck in a Book’s Weekend Miscellany

StuckinaBook All 15 Comments

Hard to believe it was snowing recently, given how sunny it is as I write this! I’m spending my weekend watching ‘Can You Ever Forgive Me?’ at the cinema, playing board games, and (of course) reading. Hopefully recording another episode of ‘Tea or Books?’ if I manage to finish the enormouslyyyy long book Rachel chose.

I hope you’re having a great weekend – and here’s a book, a link, and a blog post to help you along.

1.) The book – is a reprint of What Not by Rose Macaulay. I’ve had it for years but have yet to read it – must rectify – and now you can get a lovely edition from Handheld Classics. Well, nearly now – it’s coming out at the end of March. (Fun fact: I apparently own more Macaulay books than anybody else on LibraryThing, at 24, though I’ve only read half of those.

2.) The link – British or Irish and want to find out if the NY Times can work out where exactly you’re from? Give it a go!

3.) The blog post – I love Sylvia Townsend Warner’s Lolly Willowes – for an interesting and more ambivalent review, check out George’s at Reading 1900-1950.

Stuck in a Book’s Weekend Miscellany

StuckinaBook All 7 Comments

What a difference a week makes! No more snow here, and Cornwall already feels a lifetime ago. What a lovely weekend we had there, though. And today I’m off to London to watch a couple of plays – I’ve not done a matinee and an evening performance in the same day before, so hopefully it’ll be fab rather than too much of a good thing.

I hope you’re really well, and I’ll warm those February blues with a book, a link, and a blog post…

1.) The link – I love reading about cover design and the creative process – and this New Yorker article provides.

2.) The book – I don’t buy a lot of cookery books (though I have lots for baking), but I sort of need this halloumi cookbook. Man, I love halloumi.

3.) The blog post – Ali is great on Barbara Comyns in her recent review of Mr Fox – it’ll make you want to read it, I guarantee.

Mansfield and Me by Sarah Laing

StuckinaBook All , , 1 Comment

One of the books I got for my birthday in 2017, and read quite a while ago but have somehow neglected to write about, was a graphic novel called Mansfield and Me by Sarah Laing. I mentioned it in one of my weekend miscellanies, believing that it wasn’t possible to get in this country. Luckily I was wrong, and my friend Barbara kindly selected it – though was a bit surprised when it turned out to be a graphic memoir. I suppose I hadn’t mentioned my recent interest in graphic fiction and non-fiction!

Much like Mrs Gaskell & Me, that I wrote about more recently, this book takes the form of two parallel narratives – one of which looks at the author’s life, one of which looks at… well, the author’s life, but this time the author is not the one writing the book. Both titles put it much more clearly than I’m seeming able to describe! And so one follows Kathleen Beauchamp as she leaves New Zealand and becomes Katherine Mansfield; one follows Sarah Laing as she discovers a love of Mansfield, and how this informs many things in her own life.

As with any graphic book, a lot of the success of the book depends on the artwork. I really responded to Laing’s style, and each page is given suitable care and detail. I’ve read some graphic novels which are clearly done rather hastily, with proper attention only occasionally given – this is absolutely not the case here. It’s a beautiful book. You can see more examples in an interview with her.

And if the parallels between their lives isn’t as illuminating and beautiful as All The Lives We Ever Lived by Katharine Smyth (now my benchmark for pairings that work wonderfully), it does fulfill all that Laing claims for it. She knows they are not the same people, or experiencing the same things – rather, she sees how Mansfield has inspired and changed her, and depicts this delightfully. I’d definitely recommend to any Mansfield fan – and perhaps anybody who’d like to become a Mansfield fan.