In which Austen plays narrator to devastatingly good effect.

Publisher: (Numerous, but I’d wager Vintage would be a good one)
Pages: N/A
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: N/A
First Published: 1818
Date Reviewed: 27th March 2011
Rating: 5/5

Catherine Morland loves Gothic books, in fact she loves them so much that they can overtake reality. That she’s not well-versed in anything else is of no importance to her. As luck would have it, it may not be important to the hero either, at least in his choice of partner. But before she can meet this handsome fellow she must first travel to Bath, because that’s where he is, and must, before they can become well-known to each other, embark on a few irritating friendships.

If my summary sounds strange, it is because I have endeavoured to provide a hint of the style of the book. Austen has no qualms about letting the reader know that this is just a story, and in fact she makes it so that the story is one of the easiest narratives written. She purposefully creates a heroine who is to have little trouble in meeting the hero (she reminds you often that they are the heroine and hero) and points out where she could have made the book stereotypical and chose not to. In essence, the book is far less eventful than many but still very good – but you have to know the style of writing to understand why the contents stop it from being boring.

The book centres on the relationships between three major factions, Catherine and her brother James, John and Isabella Thorpe, and Henry and Eleanor Tilney. All three factions impact each other in various ways, both directly and through the “use” of one another. As you might expect with an Austen novel, love plays its part, as does money, and overall personal situations.

On the whole, Catherine isn’t a particularly interesting character, but Austen focuses on her quirks in order to make the story the success it is. Catherine is a sensationalist and some of the humour in the book inevitably arises from her love of Gothic novels and the value she places on the information in the real world. It’s like the thought that often crosses the mind of an admirer of The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe to investigate any old-fashioned wardrobes they come across; but unlike these more modern thoughts that are meant only in jest by all but children, Catherine’s thoughts that stem from her novels become a reality to her, and the chastising she gives herself for it being a fantasy is only half-hearted. That her imagination is taken advantage of several times by Tilney is to create not only humour but also a situation in which Catherine can develop as a character, as well as to make Tilney himself not only a brilliant hero but to demonstrate Austen’s own superb mind.

If Henry had been with them indeed! – but now she should not know what was picturesque when she saw it.

Catherine’s development in regards to general knowledge, which includes general social knowledge, may not be particularly detailed, but it is fun to read about and good to be able to imagine where she might be in a few years time.

The other characters are almost equally compelling. Although not as passionate and impulsive as Catherine (in Northanger Abbey I found the spin-off, of sorts, that I would have loved to see of Charlotte Brontë’s Villette, focusing on Ginerva Fanshawe) they each possess distinctly interesting qualities. Henry Tilney is sarcastic, intelligent, and, I would say, the way in which Austen divulges her thoughts to the characters; his sister is an obedient woman but unconvinced by general society. Their father is a matriarch and the Thorpe siblings hard to bear, an assuming, self-righteous, deceiving duo.

“Would he thank you, either on his own account or Miss. Thorpe’s, for supposing that her affection, or at least her good-behaviour, is only to be secured by her seeing nothing of Captain Tilney? …Is her heart constant to him [Morland] only when unsolicited by anyone else?”

Something that marvels me about this book is Austen’s detailed knowledge about relationships. I know that so many things about love and relationships only occurred to me after I had experienced them, together with the information from music, books, and movies, and here we have Austen, a woman in the Victorian era, when woman were suppressed, a woman who experienced love but not for a great length of time, discuss subjects so much better than many writers even today.

As to the theme of parental interference, Austen ends the novel leaving the reader to decide whether her work is in support of “parental tyranny” or “filial disobedience”. It’s a fitting way to end the book. That she had pointed out to the reader, several paragraphs before, that she knew that they knew how it would finish, just adds to the superior quality.

The best aspect of this book is the writing. The story is enjoyable but if it had been told in a more regular manner it would be nothing special, and that is it’s selling point.

Northanger Abbey is one of a kind, especially where Austen’s own work is concerned. If you are an admirer of her books but have not yet read it, I urge you to do so in haste.

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History is always changing because we are always finding out about new aspects of it.

Publisher: Atria Books (Simon & Schuster)
Pages: 357
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-4165-9059-0
First Published: 17th February 2011
Date Reviewed: 31st March 2011
Rating: 5/5

It’s 1947 and American Evie has come to India with her husband and son while her husband documents the fall of British rule. Martin has changed since the Second World War and though Evie hoped the move to India would re-ignite their marriage it seems unlikely to happen. In heartache she turns to cleaning in order to gain control where it was lost and it’s here that she discovers a loose brick in their hundred-year-old house. Hidden inside the gap is a bunch of letters dated 1850’s – suddenly Evie has a purpose of her own.

Although I’ve read a lot of books recently that I enjoyed perhaps even more than The Sandalwood Tree, on no occasion have I been able to read without checking every now and then on my progress – until this book. I finished it without really noticing. The book is full to bursting with delightful contents.

Admittedly it probably helps that I’m interested in India and its many cultures and can speak a bit of Hindi (the book contains a smattering of the language) but I’d hope that the immense richness of detail is undeniable to anyone. Newmark may to a certain point exoticise the country, this makes sense considering the time periods she writes of, but it’s the overall research and the way she describes the places that make the book what it is. The colours of the cover match the story perfectly.

The Sandalwood Tree flips back and forth between 1947 – the time of Partition – and the 1850s, when relations between the British and Indians were understandably bad. It details the events that happened during those times (although the book ends before Partition happens so it’s the lead-up that is examined) but the emphasis is on the lives of the characters and the particular social issues relevant to them. Evie, as an American, finds herself more open-minded than the Brits in her circle and so you get to see a few different points of view. Her own story becomes very much effected by the letters she reads, leading her to find India more homely and enabling her to really consider the impact her husband’s years in service have had on their marriage. Her son, Billy, is a joy in himself, being rather bold and knowledgeable and, being five years old in 1940s India, his own development as a character is particularly interesting.

The letters Evie finds become a second plot in their own right. Even though it is Evie who reads the letters and finds out about the women in them, so much time is given to the letters themselves that it’s easy to forget that. This sort of story has been done before, but because of Newmark’s writing style and the connection she makes between the women and Evie, it is fascinating. I should probably say that Evie’s story is told in the first-person, the 1850’s via the letters and a diary. The various social issues covered due to the two characters love interests make the book very compelling.

I would observe and understand India without India actually touching me.

One of the most interesting elements of the book is the way the domestic squeezes its way into the social, and vice versa.

A second conflict of cultures happens as the back-story to Martin’s plight in the form of the Germans and anyone against them. Consider the following:

He said it bothered him that German sounded so much like the Yiddish of his grandparents; then he shook his head as if he was trying to understand something.

Newmark’s point is poignant, that there was no real difference between Jews and Germans other than religions. Martin’s experiences, when put against the issues surrounding partition add another layer of thought to the book, show in both cases how society can change so quickly when a line is drawn in the middle.

The only thing I took issue with was the phrase “buttoning the curtains down” within the letters written in the 1850’s by British people. I have come to recognise the phrase “button down” through reading American literature, but it’s not something we say in Britain and thus is out of place in an old English letter. But I feel I have demonstrated my feelings overall: this book is pretty near perfect.

The Sandalwood Tree brings many different generations, cultures, religions, nationalities, domestic situations and opinions to its relatively modest 357 pages, and deals with all effectively. Whether the research is spot-on I can only say as much as I know personally, but it definitely comes across as a triumph all round.

The answer to would I recommend this book is a resounding “yes”.

I received this book for review from the author thanks to Pump Up Your Book.

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When obsession takes over everything else.

Publisher: Peirene Press
Pages: 103
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-9562840-2-0
First Published: 2001 in French; 2010 in English
Date Reviewed: 9th March 2011
Rating: 5/5

Original language: French
Original title: Bord de Mer (By The Sea)
Translated by: Adriana Hunter

A mother takes her children out of school to go on a trip to the seaside. She wants to take them and herself away from everything and thinks that they should see the sea. They spend the time in a grotty hotel and have little money to spend. It will be the last journey they take.

All that I’d heard about this book could never have prepared me for what I was going to experience. Beside The Sea deals with depression, obsession, and mental illness, although the only one of these issues actually confronted by the mother in words is depression, and then only swiftly. A big part of the problem is that the mother is having a hard time accepting that she has a problem, rather than everything that affects her being caused by society and the world in general. Practically every sentence uttered is to do with a certain issue.

The way the book is written aptly projects the mother’s mindset. Short sentences, the sudden inclusion of swear words and other harsh statements indicate she’s become extremely irrational, as does the way she recounts the conversations of others. This means that the book is, to use a metaphor, one punch after another, repeatedly, beginning in a way that you feel you can understand her reasoning and ending in a way so incomprehensible to anyone but the mother.

It’s been the same sailor for thirty years, what I mean is the way I see him’s still the same, he’s still got his torn clothes and holes in his boots because it’s the bit about “boots all worn” that really matters, it’s terrible having sore feet, and shoes are the ruination of many a mother.

Olmi also shows us how troubled the woman has become by allowing us to see how others have responded. We are told about visits from the social worker and about things that other people have commented on, all described from the mother’s point of view. This means that the reader can understand what other people have done to try and help, and we see the reasons why the woman is against it. Unfortunately it also means that the reader is the one in the middle, wishing the social workers had made more inquiries in order to know what they, the reader, do.

The sad thing is that although the woman is staunchly against her children mixing in the world and she’s afraid of it for herself, you can tell that a part of her is desperate to be included and that perhaps if she was accepted by people, no matter how many (for it seems she has no friends) she might be alright. But then she is her own worse enemy in that respect, making a point of only leaving her home when others aren’t around outside.

One of the biggest issues is a spin-off of the woman’s personal problems – neglect. Because the woman thinks mostly of herself, even when she believes she is thinking of her children, we see, through what she says, that the children, especially the eldest, are not coping. The youngest is still at an age where he doesn’t understand but Stan is nine and has ultimately become the adult in the family. The mother sees what Stan does as being against her, and at times she’s right, but when he is against her it is because he is becoming both frustrated and depressed himself. Stan’s actions, such as the episode at the seashore where the mother describes how he runs into make-believe walls, show the boy’s torment. Stan clearly understands what has happened to his mother and understands that he has to look after both her and his younger brother, but at the same time he sees that the world isn’t as bad as his mother makes out. The wall incident provides the metaphor for the times when he is trying to get through to his mother and fails, and the later dream his mother has of his walking into the sea but not drowning shows her misunderstanding of the other situation. Stan walks into the sea. The sea represents the world, but unlike what the mother is expecting, the sea doesn’t swallow him up, rather he walks through it boldly. Although we are shown that Stan is bullied we are also shown his strength and when he hits his mother all the hurt and burdens he carries with him are presented.

The above is summed up by the following statement:

…he looked so alone… how could he cope so well without me?

Unfortunately because of the difference in age and understanding of the two boys, Kevin and Stan are not always happy together, but the reader can see where Stan is trying to pull Kevin to “safety” as his mother holds onto the child’s unconditional love.

…it’s like he’s laughing to hear himself laugh, that he’s making the most of that laughter, having fun with it, and I know that a laugh like that runs away the minute you grow up.

To refer back to Stan’s strength I would like to comment that the metaphors and usage of imagery to demonstrate the other character’s emotions is absolutely fantastic. It’s rare to find a book so powerful in so many respects.

Why did the mother tell this tale? We are not given an explanation – was it just because she was thinking of it as one might as they write a diary, are we seeing it as it plays out, or is she giving a statement to the authorities? The last is a possibility purely because of what occurs – the book ends without the reader knowing what happens afterwards. But it gives you a glimpse as to how a mind can be thus affected, even if we do not know how long she has been like this or if there was a specific event or thought that triggered it.

The book has a truly haunting quality in that the issues at hand are never resolved and because they are supplied in such detail they are more difficult to accept than the unresolved issues in many other books.

The writing, and dare I say this English translation, for we must give Adriana Hunter her good due, is exquisite, the structure is superb, and what is at once a simple book and a complex one is just incredible.

Beside The Sea is a difficult read but is of great importance for the frank reality it shows of the workings of a mind in such turmoil.

Beside The Sea was originally written in French, and, as previously said, was translated into English by Adriana Hunter.

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Over the tip of the iceberg but not yet on the ground of the other side…

Publisher: (self-published)
Pages: 428
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-1-4537-7503-5
First Published: 2010
Date Reviewed: 8th March 2011
Rating: 3.5/5

In Haddie’s town in Maryland, America, it’s the 1960’s and African Americans are now able to live lives more equal to their European neighbours. But there is still segregation and there are low opinions of the people still called “Negroes”. It is this conflict between equality and low opinion that leads the death of an African American boy to create a furore. The town may be able to get over it but this issue isn’t their “only” problem.

I have to admit that I was skeptical when I received Deed So because discovering it was self-published and then reading the blurb that heralded it as “astonishing” and “gorgeously written” didn’t bode well in my mind. For a while I did indeed have reason to keep comparing the content to what the blurb declared true.

Unfortunately there are a mass of typing errors in the book, including a few which change the meaning of what’s written and thus have to be pondered over. The majority of the book walks along seeming to not go anywhere – although there are subplots they are wrapped up quickly enough and one can wonder where the book is truly heading. The climax is too convenient, the story gets to a point where it’s racing along like nobody’s business and the event is a good length, and then suddenly it ends in a very unsatisfactory manner.

But there is a lot of good in this book that, by the time you do reach the end, has balanced out the bad. One of these good things is that Deed So is very much one of those works where the reader can live the life through the words. Because the plot takes a long while to show it’s true colours you are able to sit back and really explore life in the 1960’s, which if you’re at all interested in historical domestic situations and were not around at the time, is a real treat. Russell does a good job with the descriptions, speaking personally I began the book not really knowing what made the 1960’s what they were – in other words my knowledge of the distinctions between culture, dress, and technology between the 1930’s and 1960’s is a little blurry – but by the end I could say that I was far more knowledgeable and able to conjure up images, albeit if they weren’t completely perfect.

If the strongest overall aspect is the invitation to the reader to immerse themselves, then so close in prominence that it could be argued just as strong, is the social aspect. On the face of it the major issue covered is directly related to the acceptance of African Americans but in fact the issue is broader than this, encompassing social relations as a whole. Whether due to fact or Russell’s creation (this I do not know) the situation provides a good introduction for further contemplation. The town sits in the middle of the two sides of debate – they have accepted blacks into their community, and talk to them as equals, but there is still some segregation upheld, and the past inequality continues to affect the choices of the community in the way that the whites are higher in society. Because Russell gives the reader this quasi-balance and you get to hear each side of the story every time, you come away much more knowledgeable than you would have if only either segregation or complete equality had been spoken of.

In referring to a broader social issue I look to the problems with class and how the family and community at home related to the return of soldiers. One of the subplots involves the complete change a boy undergoes after having been in Vietnam and how he is unable to speak out about it because of the suffocation of an uninformed community and a society unwilling to discuss the issues he has had to face. In addition to this there are also several domestic troubles.

Russell has created a cast of characters bound by family. All her characters belong to families and each family is important in the community and known by all. Yet, whether they acknowledge it or not, every single one of those families have problems of varying natures.

It would be impossible to point to a particular motive Russell may have had to write this book. Like many other writers, no matter whether they use the period to comment on a social or long-term domestic issues, Russell has created a story with her own spin that is thus at once similar yet vastly different. Each story of this nature brings different thoughts to the foreground.

As a reader I feel privileged to be able to have so many viewpoints and opinions in mind on which, if I so chose to do so, would make for a well-debated essay.

Deed So has it’s fair share of technical hitches and could have done with more polish, but it’s safe to say that it’s a pretty decent novel and informer.

I received this book for review from the author thanks to Pump Up Your Book.

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On the moor there is a manor house and at the manor house there is a garden. And in the garden there is a force beyond reckoning.

Publisher: (Numerous, but I’d wager Vintage would be a good one)
Pages: N/A
Type: Fiction
Age: Children’s
ISBN: N/A
First Published: 1911
Date Reviewed: 9th December 2010
Rating: 5/5

I didn’t enjoy Julie Buxbaum’s After You but it ignited in me the want to read The Secret Garden. I went out and looked for a copy by Vintage, my favourite publisher of classics, which as it so happened, had published the book only days before. Upon starting the book the irony wasn’t lost on me; here, having just finished Wuthering Heights, I was reading another book set in a big house on the Yorkshire moors, and to add to the accidental theme of my winter reading there were mentions of a “wuthering” wind.

Mary Lennox was born in India, to parents who had no time for her. As a result she was spoilt and selfish and when cholera swept the land the servants appointed to look after her fled without a thought for their charge. Mary was found and brought to England to live in her uncle’s manor, but her uncle seeks the company of no one and is frequently away. In the manor many doors are closed, secrets are kept, and there is no lady to look after children. But there used to be a lady, and she had a beautiful garden. If Mary can find the garden surely all will be well?

This book is magic. It may be heralded as a story for children but you’d have to have standards reaching to heaven to not enjoy the story at any age.

I call the book “magic” well aware that magic is a subject greatly involved in the latter part of the book. Although for a long time the story is unquestionably straightforward, there comes a point at which it changes track and becomes heavily focused on spirituality and well-being. The magic described is not that which is seen in tales of fantasy, but the qualities we, as humans, possess along with nature.

To let a sad thought or a bad one get into your mind is as dangerous as letting a scarlet fever gem get into your body. If you let it stay there after it has got in you may never get over it as long as you live.

The book deals with changes – obvious physical changes, obvious mental changes, subtle personal changes – which are spotlighted by the shifting of seasons. Hodgson Burnett makes good use of these to match the feelings of her characters. This is where one could agree with the initial publication of the story being targeted at adults, the wording being such that although the idea is comprehensible for children the composition of it can, perhaps, only be fully appreciated by adults. Yet the personalities in the novel are those that a child would find most compelling and it is children who are most likely to reassess themselves on confronting their fictional peers.

There are few main characters in the book but a whole host of supporting ones, each with a unique purpose. What’s interesting is the way Hodgson Burnett presents a person as bad but then gives you all the reasons why you should like them.

Something I absolutely loved was the way the servants were treated. Apart from the first few chapters, where we see first-hand how Mary has been brought up to treat servants as far below her, everyone is more or less on an equal footing. The very poor are respected by the wealthy, their words heeded.

The premise may seem unrealistic, that a garden can change people so much and in such a way, but these are children and this is a special garden. I began this book knowing the story and hoping, but not being certain, that I would be as blown away as I was by the film adaptation. I was blown, as deftly as the moor’s wind could propel me, and I know that the story will remain in my mind now as it always had before.

This is fiction at it’s best.

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