Some more recent reads

Just clearing some books from my pile to be reviewed – and while the blog post is called ‘some more recent reads’, let’s be SUPER lax with what we mean by ‘recent’. A few of these have been waiting for a while… I also find it hard to write about audiobooks because I can’t go back and add quotes, so shall pop a couple into this round-up.

A Countryman’s Winter Notebook by Adrian Bell

This was a review copy from the lovely Slightly Foxed, which I couldn’t find after it first arrived and I later discovered under a pile of things in the kitchen. Note to self: don’t unpack parcels in the kitchen. It’s a collection of Bell’s articles from the Eastern Daily Press, where he wrote a countryside common between 1950 and 1980. I think this collection, published last year, is the first time they’ve been brought together.

I’m not sure how they’ve been organised, but it’s a fun meander through all manner of countryside topics from across the decades. I enjoyed guessing which era I thought it would be from when I started, discovering how accurate I’d been when I turned the page. He writes gently about gardens, farming, the home – it all blurs into a contented, cosy whole. I particularly liked this line:

I think every village has a double population: those who live in it, and those who remember it fondly for having been reared in it, or having stayed in it, or even passed through it adn said, “Here is a place […] where I should like to live if ever I had the chance.”

Mr Fox (2011) by Helen Oyeyemi

I got my book group to read Oyeyemi’s fourth novel, which I’ve had on my shelves ever since it came out – well, a little before, as it was a review copy. Oops, sorry! Anyway, it’s set in the 1930s and it’s about a writer (St John Fox) and the character he has created (Mary Foxe) and their tussle. The boundaries of reality and fiction aren’t so much porous as totally non-existent – the pair start telling each other stories, and Mr Fox really resembles a short story collection more than a novel. Along the way, St John’s real wife begins to get jealous of this illusory woman with whom he becomes obsessed. The stories the two tell each other often seem barely to connect to the main narrative, and the whole thing is an ambitious and slightly confusing tour de force.

I don’t want to suggest limits on anybody’s imagination, but I have to say I prefer Oyeyemi when she has one foot on the ground. Though that doesn’t happen very often. Considering I’ve read all her books, I only *really* love one of them – Boy, Snow, Bird – but always get something out of them. Even if that’s just admiration.

The Spectator Bird (1976) by Wallace Stegner

A few Stegner novels are among the free audiobooks available with Audible Plus, so I downloaded The Spectator Bird, having previously only read his most famous (?) novel Crossing To Safety. It is about a retired literary agent, Joe Allston, who is coming to terms with increasing inactivity and ill health. Not that he is extremely ill – just all the aches and restrictions of getting a bit older, and you can tell 60-something Stegner was aware of the loss of his youngest days.

The short novel is half set in the present day, where Joe and his wife are in amiable, squabbly, grumpy normal life – and half in the past, mostly told through a diary kept 20 years earlier. The diary is about their time in Denmark, and the friendship they had with a Danish countess. It is a sensitively told story, even despite moments of high drama and shocking plot. As mentioned recently, I’m not sure fine writing is a good fit for an audio experience, for me. Whenever I stopped listening to The Spectator Bird, I seemed to forget everything that had passed – but, having said that, I still thought the book good.

The Memory Illusion (2016) by Dr Julia Shaw

But this book worked much better as an audiobook – a non-fiction book about memory, and largely about how bad memory is. Shaw writes about how faulty memory can be, how easy it is to plant false memories in people, the dangers of relying on memories solely in legal cases, and so on. It is a fascinating read/listen, covering all sorts of academic material about memory in a very accessible way. I felt a bit smug, because at least I *know* my memory is terrible.

Yes, it’s also a bit alarming to learn about false memories – and sections on false sexual abuse memories are quite confronting. But if that is content you can cope with, then I really recommend getting hold of this. Get ready to have a lot of things you thought you knew about yourself and the world blown out of the water.

The Last Interview (2016) by Oliver Sacks

My friend Malie got me this back in 2018, and it is a series of interviews with the late, great Oliver Sacks – ‘The Last Interview’ seems to be a series of books, and the small text ‘and other conversations’ on the front gives away that this covers a wide period. Sacks doesn’t seem to have given interviews all that often, and these are all transcripts – often of interviews given on radio. And it’s interesting largely for seeing the range of people Sacks spoke to. All the information in the interviews will be welcome but familiar territory to those of us who’ve read Sacks’ books, so it’s fun to sit back and interpret how Sacks felt about the interviewers. There is one who interrupts him constantly and blithely misinterprets everything…

Well, there we go, a handful of recent reads – all of them good in their own way.

Tea or Books? #82: Australia vs New Zealand and two Adrian Bell books

Australia, New Zealand, and Adrian Bell – welcome to episode 82!

In the first half, we do a topic suggested by Lindsay – books by Australians and books by people from New Zealand. And my GOODNESS we don’t know anywhere near enough to be discussing it. But we plough on!

In the second half, we look at two non-fiction books by Adrian Bell: Corduroy and A Suffolk Harvest.

If you’d like to get bonus mini episodes, and a whole bunch of other things, you can find us at Patreon. And you can listen via Apple Podcasts or your podcast app of choice. Do get in touch at teaorbooks[at]gmail.com if you have topic suggestions or just want to say hi!

The books and authors we mention in this episode are:

Rose Macaulay: A Writer’s Life by Jane Emery
Rose Macaulay by Constance Babington Smith
Rose Macaulay: A Biography by Sarah LeFanu
Aunt Mame by Patrick Dennis
Shadows on the Rock by Willa Cather
Circe by Madeline Miller
‘The Garden Party’ by Katherine Mansfield
Janet Frame
Opening Night by Ngaio Marsh
My Katherine Mansfield Project by Kirsty Gunn
The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton
Emma by Jane Austen
My Place by Sally Morgan
The Middle of Nowhere by Geraldine McCaughrean
The Secret River by Kate Grenville
The Harp in the South by Ruth Park
Poor Man’s Orange by Ruth Park
Picnic at Hanging Rock by Joan Lindsay
The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas
Breathe by Tim Winton
The Spare Room by Helen Garner
My Brilliant Career by Miles Franklin
My Career Goes Bung by Miles Franklin
Elizabeth von Arnim
Barbara Comyns
Sylvia Townsend Warner
A.A. Milne
Corduroy by Adrian Bell
A Suffolk Harvest by Adrian Bell
The Balcony by Adrian Bell
A Lost Lady by Willa Cather
Lucy Gayheart by Willa Cather

Corduroy by Adrian Bell – #1930Club

The first book I picked up for the 1930 Club was Adrian Bell’s memoir Corduroy, the first in a trilogy all of which – I think – have now been reprinted in beautiful Slightly Foxed editions. That’s quite hard to track down now, but there are plenty of other editions kicking around – and I’d certainly recommend getting your hands on a copy, because it’s lovely.

The premise is that Bell didn’t really know what to do with his life when was 19 – which was in 1920. Between them, he and his father decided that he might become a farmer – and Corduroy is his account of getting some experience to this end. Before putting all his eggs in one basket, he had to find out how the farming malarkey went.

So off he went to Bradfield St George in Suffolk – known as Benfield St George in Corduroy – accepted by the Colville family. From here, he plays a slightly odd role in the social strata of the farm. He is clearly on the level of the farm owner and family, in terms of accommodation and society, but he is among the working men for the tasks.

The majority of the book is Bell being introduced to a task, doing it badly, and getting better. What makes Corduroy such an enjoyable book is the way he writes about the experience. He is never patronising about the labourers, and nor does he idolise them in with the eye of a Romantic poet. He recognises their expertise, and they recognise his eagerness to learn – not mocking him when he is useless at milking a cow or ploughing a straight furrow or being able to tell one pig from another. At least they don’t in Bell’s memories of his year as a farmhand – it’s worth remembering that their perspectives are, of course, given in Bell’s narrative and not their own.

As with his depictions of the workers, Bell has a great eye for the natural world. Again, it is observational rather than a paean. I enjoyed this vivid description of pigs at feeding time. Don’t say you don’t get variety from Stuck in a Book:

I wandered out again, and watched Jack feeding the pigs, helped him by carrying slopping pails of barley-meal, which gave my boots a less genteel appearance. At the first rattle of a pail the pigs set up a pathetic squealing, and, when one pen was temporarily lulled with a pailful, the laments of the others rose to a hysteria of anxiety at the sight of their brothers being fed before them. By the time we had brought the refilled buckets to the second pen, the first had finished theirs and were wailing for more. Thus the chorus went on, in strophe and anti-strophe, till all were filled and slept.

Fun, no?

I’ve realised what I want in people who write about villages. Either gossipy fun, like Beverley Nichols, or the sort of writing Bell does. People who respect the countryside and village life without romanticising it. And many things haven’t changed – like the sense of community. And many things have, of course. I’ve lived in three different villages all with working farms, but there is no longer any sense that everyone in the community is involved in the life of the farm. Even more than all the mechanisation of farming, I think that’s the thing that’s changed the most. Back in 1920, when Bell started farming and my great-grandad was a farm labourer, it was the whole world for almost everyone who lived nearby. The city was another world. As exemplified when Bell asks a farmhand what his brother does, and is told ‘nothing, just some writing’ – only to learn that he has an office job with the water board!

Corduroy looks at a period a decade before the book was published, so this isn’t an absolutely accurate reflection of 1930 – but I think it gives a good sense of the sort of semi-nostalgic writing that was coming out as the dizzy hope of the 20s started to turn to the nervous misgivings of the 30s… Was war already looming on the horizon? Perhaps not quite, but Bell writes with already a sense of a world that was disappearing.