No Love by David Garnett #1929Club

no love david garnett dj

Considering I wrote about David Garnett substantially in my doctorate thesis, it is a bit embarrassing how few of his novels I’ve read. In my defence, I wrote about his first books (Lady Into Fox and The Man in the Zoo), so his later books were less relevant – but I must have bought No Love more than ten years ago and had it waiting on my shelves. (The picture above is borrowed from Barb’s review.)

Garnett was particularly prolific in the 1920s, after his bestselling 1922 debut, and he’d already written another six or seven books by the time No Love came out in 1929. It helps that all his early books are so short. This one starts with an arresting line…

When in 1885 Roger Lydiate, the second son of the Bishop of Warrington, and himself a young curate, became engaged to Miss Cross, the marriage was looked on with almost universal disapprobation.

Roger and Alice are on honeymoon in the south of England when they head out by boat to Tinder Island – a location that I think is made up, though it might be a real place with a new name.

“Let us land here,” said Alice, and she was not disappointed when they found themselves wandering through an immense orchard of flowering plum trees. The petals were falling, and when the young people passed out of the first orchard into the one beyond it, they would have seemed to our eyes like a newly wedded couple standing on the church steps, though the thought did not come to them, since confetti was not used in England in the eighties.

It doesn’t take long for them to decide to live there, and Garnett writes (at this stage of No Love) with a sort of fairy tale tone that makes spontaneous, life-changing decisions feel par for the course. The practicalities of being the only inhabitants of an island are dealt with, but rather swiftly. A little work on the land and they are good to go in Tinder Hall – the island’s only, ancient house. They have a daughter, Mabel, and five years later a son called Benedict.

But before long they need more money – and so they sell a section to Captain Keltie, who is much wealthier, after he and his wife fall in love with the island after a serendipitous visit. They build an enormous faux-Elizabethan house.

From the first its size had alarmed the Lydiates; it was its size indeed which had led Roger to fear that it might ultimately be meant to serve as a training college for Dr Barnado’s boys. The house was far larger than seemed reasonable for a family of three. On the ground floor there were hall, dining-room, drawing-room, morning-room, library, billiard-room, conservatory, kitchen and offices; whilst upstairs two bathrooms, a nursery, and twelve bedrooms seemed to show that the Kelties intended to entertain largely.

At first, the Captain Keltie, his wife and their son Simon show no signs of moving into the completed home – but, once they do, the dynamics of the island shift forever. And the lives of the two families are equally changed. No Love follows what happens over the next few decades – on the island, and away.

Garnett often writes about love and tempestuous love affairs, and there are a fair few in this novel despite its title, but I think he is much more interesting on other topics. The friendship between Simon and Benedict is a case in point – we see how two young boys fall into adventures and risks together, but how the disparity in their wealth and their temperaments changes the friendship over the years. Their living arrangements mean they have something of the closeness of family but without its permanence. It’s a relationship that seems to linger even as the two get older and have no especial wish for it to continue – they can’t quite escape this quasi-brotherhood.

As mentioned, I am less interested when Garnett writes about romantic love – but some of his insights into the way characters love were certainly well done. For example…

He distrusted any happiness which came as easily as her love, suspecting it to be a snare to entrap him. All through life he had fought, and his enthusiasms had been met with mockery and he had learnt that the value of anything was proportional to the opposition it provoked; and instinctively he believed that since this was unopposed it could not be love.

I enjoyed reading No Love – Garnett has a natural lightness and gentle dryness to his prose that works best, in my opinion, when he is using it to approach slightly eccentric or unusual characters and situations. Particularly in the first half of No Love, there is plenty of opportunity for this. It works less well when he is trying to be searing or a little sordid. But, being 1929, nothing is too close to the bone – and I found a lot to enjoy here. It’s no Lady Into Fox, but that was a tour de force that would have been impossible and needless to replicate.

#1929Club – your reviews

And here is the 1929 Club! I’m excited that the club is starting again, and in my beloved 1920s. Pop your links to your 1929 book reviews in the comments here, and I’ll put together a list during the week.

For those new – anything published in 1929 qualifies, whether it’s fiction or non-fiction, whatever language it was published it etc. And your reviews can be on blogs, GoodReads, Instagram, wherever. If you don’t have anywhere to post a review, then feel free to put it in the comments.

Let’s see where the week takes us!

The Crime at Black Dudley by Margery Allingham
Madame Bibi Lophile
Harriet Devine

A Background for Caroline by Helen Ashton
Sarah

Grand Hotel by Vicki Baum
What Me Read
Typings

Paying Guests by E.F. Benson
Stuck in a Book

The Piccadilly Murder by Anthony Berkeley
Words and Peace
Staircase Wit

The Black Camel by Earl Derr Biggers
Literary Potpourri

The Last September by Elizabeth Bowen
What Me Read

The Dagwort Coombe Murder by Lynn Brock
Briefer Than Literal Statement

The Mendip Mystery by Lynn Brock
Briefer Than Literal Statement

The Courts of the Morning by John Buchan
Journey & Destination

Water Weed by Alice Campbell
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings
Heavenali
Adventures in Reading, Running, and Working from Home

Craii de Curtea Veche by Mateiu Caragiale
Finding Time to Write

The Seven Dials Mystery by Agatha Christie
What Me Read
Journey & Destination
Read Warbler
Book Around the Corner

Les Enfants Terribles by Jean Cocteau
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

My Mother’s House by Colette
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

William by Richmal Crompton
Literary Potpourri

Magnificent Obsession by Lloyd C. Douglas
Becky’s Book Reviews

The Maracot Deep by Arthur Conan Doyle
Relevant Obscurity

Our African Winter by Arthur Conan Doyle
Briefer Than Literal Statement

The Patient in Room 18 by Mignon G. Eberhart
A Hot Cup of Pleasure

Evelyn Finds Herself by Josephine Elder
Staircase Wit

A House is Built by Barnard Eldershaw
ANZ LitLovers

The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner
Words and Peace

Hitty: Her First Hundred Years by Rachel Field
Becky’s Book Reviews
Staircase Wit

The Doctor Who Held Hands by Hulbert Footner
The Book Decoder

No Love by David Garnett
Stuck in a Book

Hill by Jean Giono
Stuck in a Book

Goodbye to All That by Robert Graves
Pining for the West

Red Harvest by Dashiell Hammett
The Book Decoder

A Farewell to Arms by Ernest Hemingway
Madame Bibi Lophile 

Beauvallet by Georgette Heyer
Wicked Witch’s Blog
Staircase Wit
Becky’s Book Reviews

A High Wind in Jamaica by Richard Hughes
Mr Kaggsy
What Me Read
Old Geezer Re-Reading

I Burn Paris by Bruno Jasienski
Kinship of All Species

Eve in Egypt by Stella Tennyson Jesse
Heavenali

Emil and the Detectives by Erich Kästner
Perfect Retort
Let’s Read

Satan as Lightning by Basil King
The Dusty Bookcase

Passing by Nella Larsen
Becky’s Book Reviews
Brona’s Books
Bookish Beck
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

The Iron Man and the Tin Woman by Stephen Leacock
Stuck in a Book

Reporter by Meyer Levin
Neglected Books

The Dunwich Horror by H.P. Lovecraft
Calmgrove

Mario and The Magician by Thomas Mann
Lizzy’s Literary Life

The Squire’s Daughter by F.M. Mayor
Madame Bibi Lophile

The Jumping-Off Place by Marian Hurd McNeely
Becky’s Book Reviews

Speedy Death by Gladys Mitchell
Staircase Wit
Stuck in a Book

Barbarian Stories by Naomi Mitchison
1st Reading

The Time of Indifference by Albert Moravia
1st Reading

The Luzhin Defense by Vladimir Nabokov
746 Books

David Golder by Irene Nemirovsky
Book Word

The Treasure House of Martin Hews by E. Phillips Oppenheim
A Hot Cup of Pleasure

Storm Bird by Mollie Panter-Downes
Stuck in a Book

Big Blonde by Dorothy Parker
JacquiWine’s Journal

Wolf Solvent by John Cowper Powys
Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings

The Roman Hat Mystery by Ellery Queen
Becky’s Book Reviews
Words and Peace

Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke
Bookish Beck

Mr Ma and Son by Lao She
Literary Potpourri
Adventures in Reading, Running, and Working From Home

Cup of Gold by John Steinbeck
She Reads Novels

Some Prefer Nettles by Junchirō Tanizaki
Winston’s Dad

The Man in the Queue by Josephine Tey
The Book Decoder

Cloth of Gold by Elswyth Thane
Staircase Wit

The Murder on the Enriqueta by Molly Thynne
The Book Decoder
A Hot Cup of Pleasure

The Barrakee Mystery by Arthur Upfield
A Hot Cup of Pleasure

The True Heart by Sylvia Townsend Warner
Madame Bibi Lophile

Fool Errant by Patricia Wentworth
She Reads Novels

I Thought of Daisy by Edmund Wilson
Stuck in a Book

Mr Mulliner Speaking by P.G. Wodehouse
Stuck in a Book

Summer Lightning by P.G. Wodehouse
Gallimaufry Book Studio

Leporella by Stefan Zweig
Lizzy’s Literary Life

StuckinaBook’s Weekend Miscellany

Happy weekend, everyone! I have lost my voice! It now seems to be a stage I get during most colds, which is super fun. It means a bit of a delay to ‘Tea or Books?’, which is probably fine because I haven’t finished the books yet. And that’s because I’ve been knee-deep in books for the 1929 Club – which starts on Monday. For those new to a club year, Karen and I invite everyone to read books published in the same year and review them wherever you post things – on your blog, on GoodReads, on Instagram, in a comment section – anywhere! Together we build up a picture of a year. And 1929 is promising to be, as ever, a really interesting one.

But, before that, here’s a book, a link, and a blog post.

1.) The blog post Ali has written about the latest British Library Women Writers book, War Among Ladies by Eleanor Scott, and (spoilers) she liked it a lot.

2.) The link – Barbara Kingsolver has a new novel out, and I enjoyed reading the books of her life over at the Guardian.

3.) The book – It won’t be for everyone, but I am very interested in reading comedian Rob Delaney’s A Heart That Works – a memoir, if that’s the right word, about the illness and death of his young child Henry.

Project 24: 15, 16, 17, 18

I’m a bit behind with updates on Project 24, but I have been adding to my piles – including a couple of books arriving through the post this week. I’ve only got six books left for the year, but that makes me more or less on track for success. The four books I’ve bought in the past month offer quite a cross-section of the different reasons that books would make it to the top of my wishlist. And here they are…

Jim Comes Home by Frank Tilsley

I don’t actually know anything about Frank Tilsley or this novel, but I chose it for a couple of reasons. I was spending the weekend in Brussels, visiting a friend, and I like to buy a book as a souvenir of a new place – particularly a foreign country. Usually I aim to buy a book by someone from that country (in an English translation), but couldn’t find one that appealed. Instead, this jumped out: I like that this is a book from the Albatross Modern Library (which are very pleasing to the eye under any circumstances), and particularly that it has ‘Bruxelles’ on the cover. Most amusing is the note saying ‘not to be introduced into the British Empire or the USA’. Sorry, publishers, I have introduced it into Britain!

This is part of the description of the novel from the inside flap, which suggested to me that it would be very up my street, souvenirring-aside:

The scene of this novel by Frank Tilsley is a pleasant country village near the sea to which Jim comes home on seven days’ leave. The theme of the book is why he couldn’t go back. It tells of the loyalties and claims of family life, of the nagging day-to-day worries which beset the ordinary man and woman when faced by such overwhelming forces as war, of the deep emotions which lie hidden behind the outward calm so typical of the English character.

More Joy in Heaven by Sylvia Townsend Warner

The green hardback in the picture is More Joy in Heaven, an early collection of short stories by Warner and much harder to find than any of the other collections. I’ve had a wish alert for it at abebooks for a while – this one was more than I’d usually spend on a book, but Project 24 is a great opportunity to invest in those hard-to-find titles that need slightly deeper pockets. I’ve said it a few times here, but Warner’s naturalistic short stories show her writing at its finest – and are, in my opinion, much better than almost all her novels.

Fifty Forgotten Books by R.B. Russell

I mentioned this one a while ago in a Weekend Miscellany – it’s a new book of essays about forgotten books. Having looked through the index, there are a handful of books I love in there (including Miss Hargreaves by Frank Baker, which is what tipped me off that Russell would be worth reading) – and plenty more to discover. Exactly the sort of book I cherish.

Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman

Perhaps the most surprising title in the pile, but I really love Klosterman’s writing. I read But What If We’re Wrong? a few years ago, and recently read The Nineties as an audiobook. I meant to write about it but have yet to get around to it – I went on a Klosterman spree and have also listened to his collections I Wear The Black Hat and Eating the Dinosaur. This collection, Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, isn’t available as an audiobook – and, being very keen to keep reading his funny, unusual takes on the world and his brilliance for making unexpected connections between popular culture and history, I couldn’t resist ordering a secondhand copy of this.

Have you read any of these? Would any of them appeal? I am looking forward to being more fancy-free in my book buying next year, but also feeling very noble at how my reading is outpacing my buying this year.

Immortality, Inc. by Robert Sheckley

MMRTLNC1959.jpgI almost never read science fiction, but one of the good things about the Audible Plus catalogue is that I can explore all manner of books that I probably wouldn’t race to pay money for or have taking up shelf space. And at some point I stumbled across Robert Sheckley’s 1959 novel Immortality, Inc. and added it to my downloads – and listened to it last week.

From the Wikipedia page (and, indeed, the fact that the novel has a Wikipedia page at all), I get the impression that Immortality, Inc. is well-known in certain circles. I was drawn to it because time travel is one of the bits of sci-fi that I find fascinating, and the title made me think of Paul Gallico’s intriguing novel The Foolish Immortals, about a scam to fool people into thinking they have immortality.

At first, Thomas Blaine doesn’t have immortality – he simply has his lifespan moved dramatically forward. The novel opens with a car crash in 1958 – his car careers out of control, the steering wheel comes off, and he is killed instantly – impaled on the steering column, which is quite the detail. But then he wakes up. It hasn’t been a dream – he’s just been in a coma.

At first, he is simply confused – and the medical staff, reporters, and business people around him are not providing any answers. It is more important that he answers their questions: about what he is experiencing, how he feels about it etc. It turns out that he is at the centre of a publicity campaign for the organisation that has made this time travel possible. Their priority is getting good footage of his awakening, rather than explaining what’s going on.

What’s going is that it’s 2110. Sheckley gradually introduces us to the changes that have taken place over 150 years – some of which are quite dispiriting. One of the first things Blaine sees is a long queue, and he thinks he ought to join it, but soon realises it is a line for a suicide booth.

In 2110, thoughts about what being alive means have changed significantly, as have the corresponding scientific abilities. Blaine is living in a body that belonged to somebody else, a strong and muscular young man, and he quickly finds that there is a trade for bodies. Minds are transferred between bodies, either from people who willingly choose to die or from people who are trafficked. Then there are zombies, who occupy bodies that are about to die.

Where does the immortality come in? That is the afterlife – something that has been scientifically proved, but which is only entered naturally with a one-in-a-million chance. Otherwise you have to buy your way in. Inequality hasn’t disappeared. Quite the opposite.

It’s curious, given the whole scope of human imagination that Sheckley could have developed, that he is most fixated on mortality. There are scenes where Sheckley has to fight for his life, where his mind or body are at risk of being stolen, where he needs to kill others. It does all give a (literal) vitality to the novel that would have been lost if it were crammed instead with fanciful scientific inventions that have no real urgency. Perhaps that’s why this novel appeals to this sci-fi sceptic – because it is about the essentials of life, and the trappings of a fictional future don’t get in the way of that too much.

Oh, and there’s a romance plot. Because of course there is.

It’s interesting to read a novel written in the 1950s about the 2110s. We are still closer to the 1950s, but of course a lot of time has passed since Sheckley wrote his futuristic vision. Some details about 2110 thus seem amusingly old-fashioned – and not just references to Abyssinia and Ceylon. Of course, he couldn’t have been expected to come up with the idea of the internet, but the modes of communication and broadcast feel more 1950s than any decade since.

Overall, I really enjoyed Immortality, Inc. At the heart of it is a confused man trying to work out what’s going on, and that’s usually a good vehicle for a reader who is also confused and trying to work it out. We can share his fascination, both amused and horrified in turn, and there is a pleasing simplicity to the survival dramas he undergoes. Naturally I won’t spoil the conclusion, but it ties up the narrative neatly and makes sense of various parts of the plot that seemed a little odd along the way.

I don’t think it has tempted me to dive headfirst into science fiction, but I enjoyed my sojourn there.

An update on British Library Women Writers series

I am so behind with updating you on what’s going on with the British Library Women Writers series! There is good news, bad news, and some more good news.

No more Angela Milne… for now

Let’s start sombrely with the bad news. A while ago I announced that One Year’s Time by Angela Milne would be published this autumn – there was even a lovely cover designed. But sadly the British Library have been unable to trace the family and, because the book is still in copyright, they’ve decided against publishing it for the time being. (Publishers can risk publishing a book if every effort has been made to track down the copyright holders, but the British Library is understandably a bit cautious on this front.) If the family do turn up, then it might still be printed – so if, by any remote chance, you know a relative of Angela Milne – please get them to get in touch with the British Library!

It is a shame, because One Year’s Time is a wonderfully witty, interesting book about a woman’s romantic and work life – an insight into office work in the mid-century that we don’t often see in novels like this. And the dialogue has a beautifully Coward-esque spark. AND I don’t even have a copy myself, it’s so hard to track down. Maybe one day??

War Among Ladies by Eleanor Scott, Simon Thomas | Waterstones

A brilliant novel about schoolteachers

But the GOOD news is that Eleanor Scott’s War Among Ladies (1928) is now published! She is known for her horror stories (that the British Library have also published), but this is a novel set in a school. The girls don’t get much of a look in – it’s really about the teachers. Chief among these are Miss Cullen and Viola Kennedy. The portrait we get of Miss Cullen is not an encouraging one:

Her hideous home-mage dress of brown casement cloth strained across her square, sturdy body and hung in ungainly folds above the thick ankles and flat, broad shoes. It was an odd face, as so many faces when you look into them. The skin, reddened and rough, and slack now from want of exercise and years of unhealthy life, stretched tightly across the high, narrow forehead, where no stray line of hair softened the angularity, and sagged beneath the eyes and long, weak, protruding chin. The mouth, set a little open, smiled perpetually, anxiously. The restless eyes, behind strong spectacles, darted suspicious glances, or stared defiantly; they were uneasy, alarmed, defensive. It was a face that sought, in the fashion of thirty years ago, by strained hair, steel-rimmed glasses and protruded jaw, to appear strong; and it was, in every line, weak, distrustful, afraid.

She is disliked intensely by her colleagues – partly for her timid neediness, but also because she is a terrible teacher, who inspires neither respect nor enthusiasm from her pupils. And in the system of the school (and presumably of other 1920s schools), if you fail one subject, you fail them all. And almost everyone fails Miss Cullen’s French classes. In the novel, we see the school in crisis. But Miss Cullen can’t retire, even though she is only a few years away from retirement age, because in the 1920s this meant forfeiting your pension and all the money you’ve put into it.

As Miss Cullen’s career lurches uncertainly towards an end, Viola Kennedy’s is beginning. She is a bit of an idealist, and trying to work out how she fits into this school – whom to befriend and whom to distrust. And what happens when a small town is swift to judge a newcomer.

War Among Ladies is often quite a sad novel, but it is so masterfully done that it’s somehow still a joy to read. It’s the first title since My Husband Simon and The Tree of Heaven that I haven’t suggested to the British Library – but I’m pleased to say that I think it’s every bit as good as the much-loved novels I’ve recommended. Don’t just take my word for it – here are Lil’s thoughts.

 

Christmas stories coming soon!

And the next bit of good news is that there is a Christmas collection of short stories coming out! I’ll confess that I didn’t have a huge amount to do with selecting these, because it involved a lot of rummaging through old periodicals in the library – and that’s not easy to do when you have a full-time job elsewhere. I’ve suggested one or two (including something from recently-reviewed Excuse It, Please! by Cornelia Otis Skinner) but it’s mostly down to the good people at the British Library.

It’s a real range, from some of the most respected short story writers ever all the way to magazine stories that everyone involved probably thought would disappear. They’re cleverly arranged as a chronology through the Christmas period – from Christmas shopping through to New Year. Plenty to enjoy, and easy to give as a pressie – it’ll be published towards the end of October, I believe!

Stories for Christmas and the Festive Season: British Library Women Writers Anthology: 18: Amazon.co.uk: Simon Thomas (ed.): 9780712354523: Books

Tea or Books? #109: Boarding House Novels vs Living Alone and Heat Wave vs Heat Lightning

Penelope Lively, Helen Hull, boarding houses and isolation – welcome to episode 109!

In the first half of this episode, Rachel and I compare boarding houses novels and novels where people live alone – up to and including complete isolation. The blog post by Jacqui that I mentioned is on her blog.

In the second half, we pit two novels set during heatwaves against each other – Heat Wave by Penelope Lively and Heat Lightning by Helen Hull. It was hot when I read them, even though it definitely isn’t now.

Do get in touch at teaorbooks[at]gmail.com with suggestions or questions. You can listen above, on Spotify, wherever you get podcasts. And you can support the podcast and get bonus content (and the podcast a couple of days early) through Patreon.

The books and authors we mention in this episode are:

The Flowering Thorn by Margery Sharp
Four Gardens by Margery Sharp
How Green Was My Valley by Richard Llewellyn
Hilary Mantel
Speedy Death by Gladys Mitchell
Parnassus on Wheels by Christopher Morley
The Haunted Bookshop by Christopher Morley
The Girls of Slender Means by Muriel Spark
Barbara Pym
Paying Guests by E.F. Benson
The Slaves of Solitude by Patrick Hamilton
Of Love and Hunger by Julian McLaren-Ross
House of Dolls by Barbara Comyns
School for Love by Olivia Manning
The Boarding House by William Trevor
The L-Shaped Room by Lynne Reid Banks
The Magnificent Spinster by May Sarton
Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner
Gentleman Overboard by Herbert Clyde Lewis
The Wall by Marlen Haushofer
The Scapegoat by Daphne du Maurier
Begin Again by Ursula Orange
Living Alone by Stella Benson
The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne by Brian Moore
Murder Underground by Mavis Doriel Hay
Yellow by Janni Visman
Summer by Ali Smith
Late and Soon by E.M. Delafield
A Helping Hand by Celia Dale
The True Deceiver by Tove Jansson

Six Degrees of Separation: From Notes on a Scandal to The Heir

It’s not often that I’ve read the starting book for the regular meme of a Six Degrees of Separation post (from Kate at Books Are My Favourite and Best) – but, when the stars align, I can’t resist joining in. As Kate says – ‘Start at the same place as other wonderful readers, add six books, and see where you end up.

Notes on a Scandal by Zoë Heller | Goodreads

Starting book: This month, things kick off with Notes on a Scandal by Zoë Heller. It was published in 2003, and for a while it was the book that every book group had to read – that’s where I read it. It tells of an affair between a female schoolteacher and a teenage boy, told from the perspective of an older schoolteacher who is a little prurient, and a lot possessive and lonely. It’s a tour de force.

Iris: A Memoir of Iris Murdoch (Book 1 in the Iris trilogy): Amazon.co.uk: John  Bayley: 9780715643259: Books

1st degree of separation: One of Judi Dench’s Oscar nominations came for playing the older schoolteacher in the 2006 film of Notes on a Scandal – so my next choice is another role she got an Oscar nomination for (and, for my money, her best performance): Iris, based on Iris by John Bayley. It’s a biography of Iris Murdoch by her husband. It faced some criticism for exposing Iris Murdoch when she couldn’t give informed consent, but I think it is done with affection and courage.

Rosamund Taylor's review of A Writer's Diary: Being Extracts from the Diary  of Virginia Woolf

2nd degree of separationA Writer’s Diary by Virginia Woolf has also attracted some criticism over the years – not for what Virginia Woolf wrote, but because it was edited by her husband Leonard. It’s all the diary entries that deal with writing from a much larger series of diaries (which has since been published in five volumes, unabridged). I can see why people thought Leonard was editorialising too much, but I think A Writer’s Diary is an extraordinary work. Woolf’s insights into writing are little short of miraculous, and her parallel preoccupation with external validation (and financial success) are a reminder that artistic genius doesn’t exist in a vacuum.

Keeping Up Appearances by Rose Macaulay

3rd degree of separation: You could go in any number of directions from Virginia Woolf, but I’m going to go for a novel that is also preoccupied with how novels are evaluated – how they are received by critics and by different echelons of the public: Keeping Up Appearances by Rose Macaulay. One of the main characters is a writer of low-to-middlebrow novels, who is fascinated by the way she is adored by some parts of society, ignored by others, and with seemingly no way to objectively determine quality.

4th degree of separationKeeping Up Appearances got me thinking about novels about sisters who take different paths from each other – and that, in turn, got me thinking about The Easter Parade by Richard Yates. In it, we watch Emily and Sarah Grimes grow up, both drawn beautifully by Yates but both, as we are warned in the opening line, ‘Neither of the Grimes sisters would have a happy life, and looking back it always seemed that the trouble began with their parents’ divorce.’

A House in the Country: Adam, Ruth + Free Delivery

5th degree of separation: I’ve gone with another book that tells you in the opening lines that the book won’t have a happy outcome. This memoir (or heavily autobiographical novel) opens ‘This is a cautionary tale, and true. Never fall in love with a house. The one we fell in love with wasn’t even ours. If she had been, she would have ruined us just the same.’ And the book is the brilliant A House in the Country by Ruth Adam – which is much more amusing than the Yates, or than the opening line might make you think.

The Heir (Modern Voices): Amazon.co.uk: Vita Sackville-West: 9781843914488:  Books

6th degree of separation: And finally – a book where someone falls in love with an enormous house against their better judgement, though this story turns out more better: it’s Vita Sackville-West’s beautiful novella The Heir, inspired by love for her ancestral home Knowle (which, as a woman, she could not inherit).

What fun!

Excuse It, Please! by Cornelia Otis Skinner

A lot of people know and love Our Hearts Were Young and Gay by Cornelia Otis Skinner and Emily Kimbrough, but fewer people have gone on to discover Cornelia Otis Skinner’s collections of humorous short sketches. When I was in America in 2015, I ordered a whole heap of them to my friend’s apartment – because they’re much easier to find in the US than in the UK. But I didn’t get Excuse It, Please! (1936) – and yet, here it is, and that is because Lisa May very, very kindly sent me a copy! That was also in 2015, but every book has its correct moment and, in 2022, Excuse It, Please! found its time had come.

(Sidenote: isn’t the cover wonderful?)

The title comes from the opening sketch – which seems a better term than ‘story’ or ‘essay’, though they could equally be called that. Each is a scene from Skinner’s life, probably rather exaggerated and fictionalised, usually telling a self-deprecating foible of mid-century middle-class life. And the first sketch is about trying to get through to a required company on a telephone call, back when all such calls had to go through a telephone operator. The connections go awry.

“Is this 51?” I asked.

“Hello,” came again.

“When’s the next ferry from New London?” I inquired.

“How the hell should I know?”

“Aren’t you the ferry?” I faltered.

“What d’ya mean am I a ferry? This is Billy’s Garage in Goodground.”

And the title comes from the hapless operator asking Skinner to ‘excuse it, please’ – rather than ‘excuse me’. It’s not the biggest punchline in the world, and perhaps might only make a passing anecdote in everyday life, but that is Skinner’s brilliance. She can take the mundane and delve into the hidden ridiculous. She is always the butt of the joke, but she laughs with the reader.

The topics in this book might be everyday, but perhaps only for a certain sort of class of person. She doesn’t talk about an office job or housework, but rather about learning to ride a horse, sitting for a portrait, and being asked to sit on the captain’s table when on a ship. It’s a glimpse into another time and another world, so she manages to combine a sense of the quotidian (for her) and the exotic (for us – or at least for me). It is a delightful mixture, and I suspect her life would have felt quite alien even for quite a few of her contemporary readers.

While she is ultimately always the one we are being encouraged to laugh at, that doesn’t mean that nobody else gets a dose of dry humour. The opening to ‘Seeing stars’ is a case in point:

Of the many varieties of bore one of the worst I know is the person who wants to point out the stars and constellations. This is a form of midsummer pest which, like the sand flea, tends to ruin beach parties.

I cannot help but keep quoting, forgive me… this is on the next page:

He singles me out from a group of ordinary picnickers with the infallibility of the compass pointing out the magnetic pole. Were this individual possessed of any particular allure, I should not at all mind; or were his intensions bordering on the carnal, there might be a little less ennui. But he is generally the kind of man who wears rubbers and belongs to drama societies, and his intentions are purely astronomical.

“Have you noticed how clear the stars are?” he begins.

I have been noticing this phenomenon with dread and secretly praying for fog ever since I have been aware of his approach. But I answer “Yes, aren’t they?” with a politeness that I hope is frigid.

At this point, you know this is either your sort of thing or not. It perfectly chimes with my sense of humour and I can’t get enough of it. If you’re the same, then you can seek out more or less anything by Skinner. I’m very grateful that Lisa May sent me this one, so that I can spend some happy hours immersed in it.

N is for Nichols

This is part of an ongoing series where I write about a different author for each letter of the alphabet. You can see them all here.

For some reason it took me a while to think who I could write about for N. I love E Nesbit but don’t have that many books by her; I have a few by Irene Nemirovsky, but don’t feel enormously enthused by her. And then it struck me – of course! Beverley Nichols! Sorry Bev that you didn’t come to mind immediately – but, fear not, I will do you justice because I have lots of books by you. It’s not all the books in this photo, but it is quite a lot of them – as well as one on my paperback shelf, one on biographies, and one with the Folio editions.

How many books do I have by Beverley Nichols?

Great question, I’m so glad you asked. And the answer is – a lot. He is one of those authors who was very prolific and also widely printed, so it’s not difficult to stumble across his books. I have 26 books by Nichols, and there are still plenty I haven’t read. That covers everything from his famed memoirs about houses, gardens, and village life (I say ‘memoirs’, but they are heavily fictionalised) to books about faith, America, cooking, war, cats, and more. And, of course, some of his novels.

How many of these have I read?

I didn’t realise until I did my count just now, but I’ve read 13 of these books – exactly half way! I’ve only read one of Nichols’ novels, and none of his detective stories, so plenty more to entice me.

How did I start reading Beverley Nichols?

If you’ve been reading Stuck in a Book for a while, then you might remember that Nichols often appeared in blog posts about recent book hauls, and every time I’d say “I haven’t read any Nichols yet, but I’m sure I’ll like him…” I just kept amassing them, filled with faith that he would be to my taste. The first one I ever bought was A Thatched Roof, from a market secondhand book stall in Pershore in 2004. And I finally read something by him in 2017 – Merry Hall, for the 1951 Club. It was my favourite read of 2017. After that, I couldn’t stop myself.

General impressions…

Well, I was right that I’d love him! The Merry Hall trilogy are still my favourite books by Nichols (and much better than the Down The Garden Path trilogy IMO, though I did enjoy those too) – I also really, really loved The Sweet and Twenties, about the 1920s. The only novel I’ve read by him is Crazy Pavements, which was also really fun. Basically, when Nichols is using his witty, insouciant, slightly gossipy tone, I can’t get enough.

My only real disappointment was The Powers That Be, about spiritualism, because he becomes much more earnest and less amusing. Some of his other essays have been good but not brilliant. On balance, though, I trust that I’m going to have a great time when I start reading a book by Nichols, and I’m almost always correct.