The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim

 

The Enchanted April, published in 1922, was written by the Australian-born British novelist, Elizabeth von Arnim (1866-1941). She left Sydney as a young child, moved to London and then to Europe, and never returned to Australia.

The delicate and delicious fragrance of the freesias came in through the door and floated round Mrs. Wilkins's enraptured nostrils. Freesias in London were quite beyond her. Occasionally she went into a shop and asked what they cost, so as just to have an excuse for lifting up a bunch and smelling them, well knowing that it was something awful like a shilling for about three flowers. Here they were everywhere— bursting out of every corner and carpeting the rose beds. Imagine it— having freesias to pick in armfuls if you wanted to, and with glorious sunshine flooding the room, and in your summer frock, and its being only the first of April!

The Enchanted April begins in London where Lottie Wilkins, a young married woman neglected and belittled by her husband, begins a conversation with Rose Arbuthnot, a woman she only knew by sight in their women's club. Rose was also in an unhappy marriage, not that she ever complained. Both women see a small Italian castle advertised in The Times and Lottie screws up her courage to approach Rose to suggest they take it for a month.

Neither of them being big spenders, they decide to find two other ladies to come as well, but when all four of them arrive at their destination, personalities clash and the holiday has all the makings of a great disappointment.

However, the magic of the place works itself into the lives and hearts of all four and by the end of the four weeks of April major changes have taken place. 'Beauty made you love, and love made you beautiful...'

I'd describe this story as a sort of modern fairytale. At first I thought the story was going to involve marriage break-ups and everyone would go off and give up on their marriage partners, but von Arnim crafted a lovely turn around in each woman's life. The author's descriptive writing is beautiful, especially when describing flowers and she made Italy very enticing, especially for an April holiday! This is the first book I've read by this author but it doesn't surprise me that her first book was titled, Elizabeth and Her German Garden and that in real life she created a wonderful garden at her home in France.

How passionately she longed to be important to somebody again...not important as an asset in an organization, but privately important - just to one other person, quite privately, nobody else to know or notice. It didn't seem much to ask in a world so crowded with people, just to have one of them, only one out of all the millions, to oneself. Somebody who needed one, who thought of one, who was eager to come to one - oh, oh how dreadfully one wanted to be precious!

A Son at the Front (1923) by Edith Wharton

 

A Son at the Front was one of four novels written by Edith Wharton in the 1920’s after she had won the Pulitzer Prize in 1921 for her book Age of Innocence. These novels focussed on the growing sense that World War I had brought about irreparable damage and had left an indelible mark on society.
A Son at the Front, as its title implies was set during WWI, and opens in Paris in 1914 just before war was announced. Edith Wharton was involved in relief work in France and this novel was inspired by a young man she met during that time.

American artist, John Campton, resided in Paris and was looking forward to his holiday with his son George who had finished his studies in America and was returning to France to visit before taking up work in a bank in New York.
By a twist of fate, George had been born in Paris and not in America. His parents divorced early in his life and his mother, Julia, had remarried.

It was almost impossible to Campton to picture what it would be like to have the boy with him. For so long he had seen his son only in snatches, hurriedly, incompletely, uncomprehendingly: it was only in the last three years that their intimacy had had a chance to develop. And they had never travelled together, except for hasty dashes, two or three times, to seashore or mountains; had never gone off on a long solitary journey such as this. Campton, tired, disenchanted, and nearing sixty, found himself looking forward to the adventure with an eagerness as great as the different sort of ardour with which, in his youth, he had imagined flights of another kind with the woman who was to fulfill every dream.

Life had perpetually knocked him down just as he had his hand on her gifts; nothing had ever succeeded with him but his work. But he was as sure as ever that peace of mind and contentment of heart were waiting for him round the next corner; and this time, it was clear, they were to come to him through his wonderful son.

Before father and son could begin their holiday together, George was called up to join the French army and the trip could not take place.
All three parents were desperate for George not to go to the front and used every means they could to prevent it happening.
As the war progressed it touched the lives of everyone around them. More and more families they knew received the news that their sons had died, gone missing or had been severely wounded in action and Campton struggled with the morality of pulling strings to have his son relegated to an office job.
George had seemed ambivalent about war service and this gave a false sense of security to his father, although subconsciously he wished his son to do the honourable thing.

This novel is more about the families left behind than the sons at the front. When Julia had remarried, George’s rich stepfather and millionaire banker, Anderson Brand, provided for George and brought him up and loved him dearly. There is much tension between the three parents and Campton had a huge chip on his shoulder because of his lack of success in life, generally.
I thought Wharton had good insight into the relationships involved and her treatment of the effects of the war on the different characters throughout the novel were brilliant.
I’ve been reading the author’s lesser-known novels and short stories and I’m surprised that they aren’t as popular as her longer works. She had a profound insight into human nature, her writing is just beautiful and her vocabulary is rich. I occasionally come across words I’ve never seen before and often can’t find them in my Oxford dictionary. I think they must be peculiar to America, although not necessarily words in regular use.
That she wrote from personal experience is obvious and her work is realistic, portraying some of the senseless crimes the war had perpetrated- describing it as a monster whose daily meal was made up of ‘an incalculable sum of gifts and virtues.’

I loved this reflection by Campton when he discovered his son’s ardour for literature:

Campton perceived that the millionaire’s taste for owning books had awakened in his stepson a taste for reading them. “I couldn’t have done that for him,” the father had reflected with secret bitterness. It was not that a bibliophile’s library was necessary to develop a taste for letters; but that Campton himself, being a small reader, had few books about him, and usually borrowed those few. If George had lived with him he might never have guessed the boy’s latent hunger, for the need of books as part of one’s daily food would scarcely have presented itself to him.

Initiation had come to them in different ways, but their ardour for beauty had the same root…
Campton, with a passionate interest, watched his son absorbing through books what had mysteriously reached him through his paintbrush.

The Library of America has published the four novels of the 1920’s in a hardback edition that is very nicely done. ISBN: 9781598534535

The Power of Geography by Tim Marshall (2021)

 I wrote this post in 2021 when this book was first published:

The Power of Geography: Ten Maps That Reveal the Future of Our World was published this year (2021) and is a sequel to Prisoners of Geography which I wrote about here.
In that book Tim Marshall focused on the fact that geography has played a major role in history. In this new book he explores ten different regions and the power they hold in the shaping of our future.
These regions are: Australia, Iran, Saudi Arabia, The United Kingdom, Greece, Turkey, The Sahel (a region I was totally ignorant of), Ethiopia, Spain and Space.

The Power of Geography covers some very diverse countries with complicated histories – a whole book could be written about just Iran alone when you consider the upheaval and changes there even in recent times. There’s a lot of ground to cover and I think that’s the reason I found this book generally wasn’t as tightly written as the previous one. There are some chapters where this wasn’t the case – Turkey and Ethiopia, for instance, which were more compact. In spite of the sense of overwhelm at times (I’m thinking of you, Saudia Arabia), The Power of Geography is an interesting and informative book.

Some highlights:

Australia

We tend to think of China and Australia being relatively close to each other, but Tim Marshall points out that the map most of us use, the Mercator, distorts our view of the world. He suggests the different perspective to be had from the use of a Waterman map, noting the fact that Beijing is as close to Warsaw as it is to Canberra, but it is China that is regarded as our close neighbour.
I learned that Australia, along with New Zealand, the USA, the UK and Canada is a member of what is probably the world’s most efficient intelligence-gathering network: ‘Five Eyes.’ I asked my husband if he knew about this and he did. He also knows where the Sahel is, which shouldn’t have surprised me – he has a mind like a steel trap on more modern history.

Iran

I know a little bit about Iran from teaching ESL to a couple who left that country and resettled here. Apparently it was not until 1935 that the land of Persia became known as Iran but everyone I’ve met from Iran (and all of them were born decades after the name change) describe themselves as Persian.

Saudi Arabia

What a complicated and confusing history! Saudi Arabia was created in the twentieth century. Its population then was about two million, and most of them were nomads. Now there are 34 million people living there.
Marshall describes the rise of Al-Qaeda, Osama Bin Laden and the various members of the royal family, notably, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman who is reigning now.

United Kingdom

The chapter starts with a quick overview of the UK’s history, beginning with the Greek explorer Pytheas, through the Roman occupation, Viking invasions, the Battle of Hastings, the rise of the British Empire, the two World Wars, up to the present and Brexit.
He considers the question of Scottish independence and the complications that would result – for example, if Scotland insisted that the Royal Navy remove its nuclear-armed submarines from their base at Faslane on the west coast.

Sea power underpinned an empire based on the usual power-building common to all countries, but also the racist assumptions of colonialism. There was, however, one bright point of moral light in the navy's role. In 1807, having played prominent role in the slave trade, Britain outlawed it. For the next few decades the Royal Navy actively pursued slave traders, liberating about 150,000 people, while the government paid subsidies to African chiefs to persuade them to end the practice.

Life in these Royal Navy ships is depicted as almost equally harsh and dangerous for the British sailors;
‘Between 1830 – 1865, approximately 1587 men died on the West Africa Squadron, from a variety of causes: disease, killed in action and accidental deaths…’

One of the most fascinating countries represented in this book is Turkey. General Kemal Atatürk was the first president of the Republic of Turkey which was established in 1923. Known as ‘Father of the Turks, he ruled for fifteen years and implemented radical reforms which transformed and modernised the country.

Atatürk understood that language is culture. He was in the business of forming a new culture based not on the multi-ethnic and multi-linguistic Ottoman Empire, but on Turkishness.

In recent times Turkey has turned to the past in order to shape the future. The author describes Erdoğan, Turkey’s Prime Minister, as a ‘neo-Ottoman’ who believes that Turkey is destined to be a global superpower as the West declines.

Ethiopia and Spain are two other very interesting places to delve into – in fact, all of countries covered in this book are, but there is so much detail and changes in their history, not to mention their geographical complexities, to enable a reader without too much background information to take it all in. It’s a book I’d be more than happy to read again in order to digest all the details, or to dip into as a reference when any of the countries are mentioned in the news or current affairs.

 

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith (1949)

 

I Capture the Castle was one of the books on my shelf that I'd been reluctant to begin. I’m not sure why because I enjoyed Dodie Smith’s other well-known novel, 101 Dalmatians. Once I'd started this book my hesitancy quickly disappeared as I discovered that it is such a quirky, fun with patches of seriousness, fairytale-ish story, that captures all the angst of a young woman in love with someone who loves someone else.
The young woman is 17-year-old Cassandra, the narrator of the story, and she describes her unusual poverty-stricken family beautifully. Her father, James Mortmain, a one hit wonder of an author; his second wife, the artistic, ethereal Topaz; her resilient younger brother and her pretty older sister, Rose, who is determined to marry money. (“I could marry the Devil himself if he had some money.")
Then there is Stephen, their 18-year-old boarder/servant who dotes on Cassandra so much that her father calls him her ‘swain.'

Cassandra keeps a diary and has a literary bent, which is partly why I liked this novel as much as I did.

I have found that sitting in a place where you have never sat before can be inspiring - I wrote my very best poem while sitting on the hen-house.

I have just remarked to Rose that our situation is really rather romantic - two girls in this strange and lonely house. She replied that she saw nothing romantic about being shut up in a crumbling ruin surrounded by a sea of mud. I must admit that our home is an unreasonable place to live in. Yet I love it.

The Mortmains had a forty-year lease on their run-down castle. Their landlord, who lived five miles away, always sent them a ham at Christmas whether they paid the rent or not. When he died the previous year they sadly missed the ham…

One day the heir to their landlord's fortune arrived, along with his brother and the girls' fortunes are beginning to look up.

Did you think of anything when Miss Marcy said Scoatney Hall was being re-opened? I thought of the beginning of Pride and Prejudice – where Mrs. Bennet says 'Netherfield Park is let at last.' And then Mr. Bennet goes over to call on the rich new owner.

Rose believed that having money would solve everything and be the antidote to misery, but her experience belied this. Cassandra thought that there must be a catch about having plenty of money; that perhaps it would eventually take the pleasure out of things.
She had this perceptive comment to make on the ‘climate of richness.’

But most of the time, I just thought. And what I thought about most was luxury. I had never realized before that it is more than just having things; it makes the very air feel different. And I felt different, breathing that air: relaxed, lazy, still sad but with the edge taken off the sadness. Perhaps the effect wears off in time, or perhaps you don’t notice it if you are born to it, but it does seem to me that the climate of richness must always be a little dulling to the senses. Perhaps it takes the edge off joy as well as off sorrow.

Oddly, I have never thought of us as poor people — I mean, I have never been terribly sorry for us, as for the unemployed or beggars; though really we have been rather worse off, being unemployable and with no one to beg from.

Cassandra wrote in her diary:

Sometimes I try to imagine what happens to characters in books - after the books finish, I mean.

I finished the book with this thought because the ending left much up in the air. It’s a ‘coming-of-age’ sort of story so that adds to the unresolved feeling. How many of us know what we really want when we are just on the threshold of adulthood?

The Young Clementina (1935) by D.E. Stevenson

 

I've been splurging on two authors in the last couple of years. Mary Stewart is one and the other is D.E.Stevenson. Mary Stewart was a new author I was introduced to through a friend and although I'd read one of Stevenson's books a few years ago, her books weren't readily available here. If you like a bit of action, feisty heroines and a variety of settings, then I’d recommend Mary Stewart. D.E. Stevenson’s books are softer and more domestic but they are lovely to read, she has a focus on the natural world and her stories are often set in her homeland of Scotland.

There is a sameness in the individual plot structures of each of these authors. I’ve linked to reviews I’ve written about some of Mary Stewart’s books above that will give you an idea of her style. Stevenson’s plots, at least in the novels I’ve read so far, focus on quite young women who have often had difficult or disrupted childhoods. They are unworldly, vulnerable, and generally under confident.

The Young Clementina departs a little from this as the main protagonist is in her thirties, and the man she loved in her teens and expected to marry, married someone else. It is darker and sadder than some of her other books. with a gritty realism in parts and if I didn’t know at the beginning that it was published in 1935, I would have put it after WWII and not before.
The main protagonist is not Clementina and I wondered why the title is what it is, but she is a key person in this story even though we meet her later in the book and she isn’t in it for very long. 

Two roads are open to me, one lonely but well known, peaceful and uneventful; the other full of dangers and difficulties which I cannot foresee.

Charlotte had been living on her own in a bleak flat in London for twelve years. She had grown up with Garth, a close neighbour, and had expected they would be married but when WWI broke out he had gone with all the other young men to fight for his country. Unlike many of the others who went, he returned, but he was changed.

The boy that I had known so well was a gentle-natured creature, considerate to others and somewhat self-effacing. This man who had come back in his place was ruthless, almost brutal at times. I told myself that the war had changed Garth’s nature…

Charlotte realised one night that it was all over between them and that Garth had gone from her forever. It was then that she moved to London and settled into a lonely but peaceful existence working in a private library reviewing travel books.

Separation

THERE is a mountain and a wood between us,
Where the lone shepherd and late bird have seen us
Morning and noon and eventide repass.
Between us now the mountain and the wood
Seem standing darker than last year they stood,
And say we must not cross—alas! alas!

– Walter Savage Landor

This has been my favourite book by Stevenson so far. It is more layered than some of her others and there was a sense of mystery throughout. The characters were interesting, and as with the author’s other books her sense of humour was evident, but in The Young Clementina that only surfaced in one character:

Mrs. Cope – the straight talking, outspoken cleaning lady who was a good friend to the lonely Charlotte:

Mrs. Cope looked around the court and preened herself; she was not in the last frightened, nor dismayed. Is there another country in the world where a woman of Mrs. Cope’s class and upbringing could face a judge and jury in a crowded court with confidence in their integrity and in her own rectitude? Is there another country in the world that could produce a Mrs. Cope?

Kitty – another main character and Charlotte’s younger sister who was selfish, spoiled and devious:

Kitty had become an undisciplined woman…I realised, too, that Kitty had coarsened, not physically – for her body had been cared for with unremitting skill and attention – but coarsened mentally, or perhaps spiritually would be nearer the truth…The coarsening of her mental fibres dismayed me. It was more grief to realise her degeneration, than to contemplate the mess she had made of her life, for the one was an inner and the fundamental thing and the other was merely fortuitous…
I should have been more help to her in her hour of need if she had not shut me out of her life so completely for twelve years.

This was a poignant story that fully engaged my attention. Charlotte’s loneliness and confusion over the lost relationship with Garth was very touching and Stevenson balanced Charlotte’s sorrow at the lost relationship with the feeling of peace she felt in not being in a position to be hurt by the man she still loved.

When I had recovered sufficiently I went and sat in Kensington Gardens and watched the children playing. I felt weak and silly, and the happiness of the children, as they ran about and shouted at each other, touched a spring in my heart…I had missed all that in my life – all the joys of normal womanhood – I was a very lonely woman, on the way to a lonely old age.

Charlotte’s acceptance of her life in London shielded her heart and given her some contentment but she was sunk in a groove that made her shrink from any change. But now she had a decision to make – to risk further misery and pain and face a prospect that terrifies her or to stay in the old groove of her life in books, dreams and loneliness.

I loved this story of loss and new beginnings and a woman’s search for truth. A very satisfying and compassionate story!

According to Wikipedia this title was published as Divorced From Reality in 1935 (alternate title: Miss Dean’s Dilemma; and was republished in 1966 as The Young Clementina)

 

Death in Berlin (1955) by M. M. Kaye

 

M.M. Kaye is well-known for her historical novels but I was unaware that she also had written six crime novels which are set in various locations. Kaye’s marriage to a British Army soldier meant that she travelled extensively and was able to use her experience of living in different locations in her writing. 

Death in Berlin (first published as Death Walks in Berlin) is set in the Berlin of 1953, eight years after WWII. Kaye and her husband were stationed in the city in the post war years and witnessed the erection of the Berlin Wall. They returned in later years and barely recognised the city as most of the ruins had disappeared from the British sector. 

Kaye describes Berlin as she saw it in 1953. As she took long walks through the leafy suburbs between Herr Strasse and the Grunewald and saw the ruined roofless houses where the Nazi elite used to live, she thought up the plot for her book. She made notes and wrote detailed descriptions of the ruined city, and made rough sketches of the stadium that Hitler had built in the 1930’s. This was used for the Olympic Games in 1936 and afterwards for a multitude of Nazi rallies. 

Post-war Berlin was a splendid setting for a murder mystery and the author’s familiarity with the city in the years after the war prior to the erection of the Berlin Wall creates an authentic atmosphere. 

The story opens at Dunkirk in 1940 with a group of refugees making their way to a fishing boat in a bid to escape to England. A young girl clinging to her doll is one of the refugees who makes it onto the boat, but one woman gets left behind in the scramble to get to the boat. Once the refugees reached England it was discovered that the young girl’s parents had been killed when the Germans attacked Belgium and that she was not French, as everyone imagined, but English. 

Years later, twenty-one-year-old Miranda Brand accepted an invitation from her cousin, Robert and his wife, Stella, to travel by train with them to Berlin and have a month’s holiday with them there. One of their travelling companions, Brigadier Brindley, told a story at dinner of a fortune in cut diamonds that was supposedly smuggled out of Germany in 1940. This proved to be the Brigadier's undoing...

That night, as the train rumbled on its way, Miranda could not sleep. She got up to get herself a cup of water and as she returned, the train rocked on a curve which made her stumble through her cabin door in the dark. Reaching out her hand & not finding her berth, she quickly realised she was in the wrong room. She had stumbled into the Brigadier’s compartment. Fortunately, he was sound asleep, and she left immediately and found her own compartment.  Sitting on her berth she thought how stupid she’d been and then she noticed that she had blood on her dressing gown and on the floor where she had walked. The Brigadier had been murdered and the prime suspect was Miranda who literally had blood on her hands. 

It was not only the sight of a murdered man that has brought those days back, dragging them out of that dark attic in her mind into which her conscious and subconscious mind had thrust them. She should never come here, to this shattered city where the very language in the streets tugged at shadowy memories that were better forgotten. 

I enjoyed this book although I didn’t think some of the characters were sufficiently developed - Miranda’s love interest, for example, but I’m keen to read more of Kaye's work. The ending was very unexpected and surprised me and as she reminded me a little of Mary Stewart, I'd be happy to explore her more thoroughly. I'm annoyed I can't find any of her books in the library and was stunned to randomly pick up Death in Berlin for a dollar!

Kaye was born to British parents in India and lived there until she was ten when she was sent to boarding school in England. She never expected to return but she met and married a British Indian Army officer who was transferred to the British Army when the Indian regiment was disbanded.

A few months before we left, The Wall went up. And with its rise many fond hopes for the future of humanity came tumbling down. I watched it being built: which is possibly why, when I look back, I think that I prefer the battered but more hopeful Berlin of 1953.

My Brother Michael (1959) by Mary Stewart

 

‘The result of my own visit to Greece and the impact of that wonderful country on a mind steeped in the classics. ‘My Brother Michael’ was my love affair with Greece.’ - Mary Stewart

Camilla Haven had broken with Philip her fiancée of six years, and now at twenty-five years of age, she had come to Greece for a holiday. Elizabeth, the young woman who was to have been her companion had broken her leg and had to remain in England. The story opens in a cafe in Athens with Camilla writing to Elizabeth about her time in Greece up until then.

‘I’m told that Delphi really is something. So I’ve left it till last. The only trouble is, I’m getting a bit worried about the cash. I suppose I’m a bit of a fool where money is concerned. Philip ran all that, and how right he was…’

As Camilla reflected back on her time with Philip, she was sure now, that although it was fun while it lasted, it wouldn’t have worked out. But after six years of being swept up in Philip’s magnificent wake,’ she did feel life was a trifle dull at times.

‘This is the first time for years I’ve been away on my own - I was almost going to say ‘off the lead’ - and I’m really enjoying myself in a way I hadn’t thought possible before. You know, I don’t suppose he’d ever have come here all; I just can’t see Philip prowling around Mycaenae or Cnossos or Delos, can you? Or letting me prowl either… There’s no regret, only relief that perhaps, now, I’ll have time to be myself…Even if I am quite shatteringly incompetent when I am being myself…’

To miss Delphi was unthinkable but it seemed that her only option was a one-day bus tour. It was all she could afford but a case of mistaken identity and her limited knowledge of the Greek language changed her plans. A stranger had come up to her table in the cafe with the keys to a hire car saying that the car was wanted urgently by Monsieur Simon in Delphi - it was a matter of life and death. He was told to give the keys to a young girl sitting alone in the cafe and she would drive it to Simon in Delphi.
After an unfruitful conversation with the cafe owner and various customers and a wait to see if another young woman arrived to pick up the car, she decided she might as well turn the situation to her advantage and drive it to Delphi herself.

‘The thing was simple, obvious and a direct intervention of providence.’

Camilla differed from the other heroines I’ve come across in Mary Stewart’s novels. She was unsure of herself and described herself as incompetent and cowardly. As the story progressed, she encountered situations where her mettle was tested, and she proved to be stronger than she imagined.
There was the usual romantic interest, which also differed from that in other books. Simon, a young Englishman, was reserved and gentle - a counterpoise to the overbearing Philip. Compassionate and tolerant, he saw beneath Camilla’s lack of confidence and gave her credit for having a personality of her own. I liked this shift from the feisty, competent heroine to one who was unsure of herself and couldn’t reverse a car to save herself.

My Brother Michael is set about fourteen years after WWII. Simon’s older brother, Michael, had been with the Special Air Service when the Germans occupied Greece and had been doing undercover work as a British Liaison Officer attached to a guerrilla organisation. Michael had died on Mt Parnassus in 1944 and Simon had come to Greece to find out more about the circumstances surrounding his death.

There’s a bit of history in this story - ELAS, the Communist Resistance; EDES, the anti-Communist Resistance, and the failed Communist coup in 1944.

‘And when you think harshly of ELAS, remember two things. One is that the Greek is born a fighting animal. Doesn’t their magnificent and pathetic history show you that? If a Greek can’t find anyone else to fight, he’ll fight his neighbour. The other is the poverty of Greece, and to the very poor any creed that brings promise has a quick way to the heart.’

Poor naked wretches, whereso'er you are,
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm,
How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides,
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you...?
- King Lear, Act 3; Scene 4

I was reminded of Helen MacInnes book, Decision in Delphi (1960), as it touches on the Greek Civil War and has its climax in Delphi. I linked to a few articles on the aftereffects of the civil war when I wrote it.

My Brother Michael has more violence than any of Stewart’s other books and there is one particularly nasty account of a s*xual nature and betrayal in Chapter 17 which was unexpected and jolting but not very explicit.

‘And that was how (…) was murdered with twenty yards of me, and I never lifted a finger to help…’

Some interesting links related to the content of this book:

The Charioteer of Delphi in the Clutches of WWII

Excavations at Delphi

Nine Coaches Waiting (1958) by Mary Stewart

 

Linda Martin was back in Paris after an absence of nine years. With an English father and a French mother, she had grown up in France during the Second World War. When she was fourteen both of her parents were killed in a plane crash and she was sent to an orphanage in England where she remained for seven years. When she was offered a position in France as governess to nine-year-old Philippe, Comte de Valmy, she jumped at the opportunity to go back to the country she loved.

'Those sweet, those stinging memories…things I had never before noticed, never missed, until now I saw them unchanged, part and parcel of that life that stopped nine years ago…I was back in France; that much of the dream of the past nine years had come true. However prosaic or dreary my new job might be, at least I had come back to the country I had persisted in regarding as my home.'

Arriving at the Château Valmy in Savoy, Linda found that her young charge was a reserved, lonely child, heir to a large estate kept in trust by his uncle after the boy's parents died. It didn’t take Linda long to warm to the young boy and to discern that he was afraid of his uncle. His uncle had no time for his nephew and was cold and harsh towards him.
A shooting which narrowly missed Philippe, another near fatal ‘accident,’ and an unlikely romance, sets the scene for adventure, danger and uncertainty as Linda commits herself to take care of Philippe while trying to work out who the potential murderer might be.

This is the second book that I’ve read by Mary Stewart (the other being, Madam, Will You Talk?) and it was every bit as good as the first. It took a little longer for the story in Nine Coaches Waiting to develop, but it was also longer than the first.
There were some similarities between the two - a vulnerable but strong young woman, a lonely child who needed protection, the French setting, and a romance.

‘An owl called below me, down in the woods; called again. Its muted melancholy found too ready an echo in me. I felt tired and depressed. Too much had happened today; and the pleasant things…had somehow faded back out of mind and left me with this queerly flattened feeling.
I know what it was, of course. I’d lived with loneliness a long time. That was something which was always there…one learns to keep it at bay…’

Again, Mary Stewart’s writing is just lovely and each chapter is introduced by a literary quotation, e.g.

‘I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so.
John Donne: The Triple Fool.'

And this on the ability of poetry to educate the mind:

'The cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land…yes, that was it. That was it. Not for the first time I was sharply grateful to Daddy for making poetry a habit with me. The best words in the best order…one always got the same shock of recognition and delight when someone's words swam up to meet a thought or name a picture. Daddy had been right. Poetry was awfully good material to think with.'

There are some allusions to Cinderella and Jane Eyre intermingled in the story which were nicely done, as were the revelations of what underpinned the actions or thoughts of various characters.

‘Wrapped up in my loneliness and danger I hadn’t even seen that his need was the same as my own. He and I had hoed the same row, and he for a more bitter harvest.’

A great book to curl up with a cup of tea and no interruptions, if possible, because Mary Stewart’s books are hard to put down - at least the two I’ve read so far have been.

 

Madam, Will You Talk? (1955) by Mary Stewart

 

Mary Stewart was a new author to me in 2022 when a friend recommended her books and what a delightful author she is! Madam, Will You Talk? was her first book and it is a cracker.

Set in Southern France, it is a suspenseful story that doesn’t waste any time in plunging the reader into murder and mystery.

When I wrote that summer, and asked my friend Louise if she would come with me on a car trip to Provence, I had no idea that I might be issuing an invitation to danger…though the part I was to play in the tragedy was to break and re-form the pattern of my whole life, yet it was a very minor part, little more than a walk-on in the last act…How was I to know, that lovely quiet afternoon, that most of the actors in the tragedy were at that moment assembled in this neat, unpretentious little Provençal hotel?

Charity Selbourne, a twenty-eight year old woman, and the book’s heroine, narrates the story. I warmed to her character immediately when she befriended a lonely and deeply unhappy twelve-year-old boy. It’s not the usual stuff of romantic suspense but in one of Mary Stewart’s other books (Nine Coaches Waiting) she sympathetically portrays another young boy. I read in her obituary that:

At the age of 30, she suffered an ectopic pregnancy, undiagnosed for several weeks. Peritonitis set in and she nearly died. It was a long time before she accepted childlessness.

Mary Stewart’s writing is beautiful and descriptive, and reflects not only her own personal experience but also her interests and educational background. There is an abundance of literary allusions, nods to the classics, and knowledge of theatre and art scattered throughout this book. Her rendering of place/setting, in this case the south of France, in particular Avignon and Marseille, play their role as characters in the story - as does a dog!

Then fate, in the shape of Nidhug, took a hand.
My cue had come. I had to enter the stage.

Avignon is a walled city, as I have said, a compact and lovely little town skirted to the north and west by the Rhone and circled completely by medieval ramparts, none the less lovely, to my inexpert eye, for having been heavily restored in the nineteenth century. The city us dominated from the north by the Rocher des Doms, a steep mass of white rock crowned by the cathedral of Notre Dame, and green with singing pines.

le Rocher des Doms à Avignon | Avignon et Provence (avignon-et-provence.com)

The deserted town of Les Baux, in medieval times a strong and terrible fortress, stands high over the southern plains. The streets of eyeless houses - little more than broken shells - the crumbling lines of the once mighty bastions, the occasional jewel of a carved Renaissance window, clothed with ferns, have an uncanny beauty of their own, while something of the fierce and terrible history of the ‘wolves of Les Baux,’ the lords of Orange and Kings of Arles, still seems to inhere in these broken fortifications.

Les Baux-de-Provence Travel Guide - France - Eupedia

I saw the first light, fore-running the sun, gather in a cup of the eastern cloud, gather and grow and brim, till at last it spilled like milk over the golden lip, to smear the dark face of heaven from end to end.

In addition to her quality writing is an exciting, convoluted plot with many twists, including a thrilling car chase through the Rhône-Alpes. I enjoyed the (highly improbable) romance and the old-fashioned feel which reminded me of Agatha Christies’ The Man in the Brown Suit and (just a little) of Helen MacInnes’ writing style.

A wonderful read on a rainy day for me, and best of all, I have two more of her books waiting for me.

Mary Stewart's legacy as an author is vast. She is considered by many to be the mother of the modern romantic suspense novel. She was among the first to integrate mystery and love story, seamlessly blending the two elements in such a way that each strengthens the other.

 

 

Spring Magic (1942) by D.E. Stevenson

 

In his Introduction to Spring Magic, Alexander McCall Smith writes that D. E. Stevenson’s books,

‘…eluded the sort of classification that reviewers and scholars like to engage in. They are not simple romances; nor are they anything that would today be recognised as thrillers. They are in a category of their own: clearly-written straightforward tales that take the reader through a clear plot and reach a recognisable and unambiguous ending. The appeal that they have for the contemporary reader lies in the fact that there is no artifice in these books…These are gentle books, very fitting for times of uncertainty and conflict. Some books can be prescribed for anxiety - these are in that category. And it is an honourable and important one.’

Spring Magic is a delightful story with likeable characters and a sprinkling of humour. It is gentle in that it isn’t a nail-biting thriller, but it does have a certain amount of tension that kept me turning the pages and staying up late to finish it. Set during the Second World War, the story takes place in both the Highlands of Scotland and later in London, and it doesn’t ignore the social upheaval and uncertainty of that time.

Twenty-five-year-old Frances Field had lost both her parents before she was four years of age and had gone to live with the Wheelers, her uncle and his wife, in London. They were old-fashioned, had no children of their own, and didn’t want a child in the house, but there was no one else to take her, so to them she went.
As Frances grew older, Mrs. Wheeler found her to be very useful and as she herself was very lazy and professed to be an invalid, Frances basically took on the running of their large house.
When the war started Frances was keen to help in some way but Mrs. Wheeler ‘couldn’t manage without her.’ One day Dr Digby came to attend the ‘invalid’ and as Frances saw him to the door, he told her that there was nothing the matter with her aunt except laziness. He suggested to Frances that she should take a holiday. She had slaved for her aunt for years and had been blind to the fact that her aunt was always well enough to do anything she wanted. It would do her aunt good if she had to hustle around a bit.

‘It was odd that she had reached the age of twenty-five without having decided what sort of a person she was - or wanted to be. It was because she had never had a chance to follow her own inclinations nor to develop her personality.’

Frances felt invisible. She had a yielding personality and as she did not like scenes, she allowed herself to be dominated and repressed by her aunt. Dr. Digby had planted a seed in her mind and when the bombs began to fall on London she made her decision to leave. She wanted to go somewhere where she could think. She had seen a picture of Cairn, a coastal village in Scotland, at the Academy in London and had made up her mind that someday she would go there. Now was her chance.

The beauty of the place, the eccentricity and charm of the local folk, the friendship of three army wives, and a potential romance help her get back her own soul. She had never had to make her own decisions and at first found choosing between even small things difficult to do, but in this new environment she found freedom and became accustomed to making her own decisions and knowing her own mind.
This is only the second book I’ve read by D. E. Stevenson. I think the first was Sarah’s Cottage but that was about twenty years ago and I can’t remember much of it but I liked this one so much that I’ll be looking out for more of her books. Her characters were interesting and explored more fully over the course of the story. She contrasted two particular characters by their attitude to work and how that attitude extended to their relationships - a careless, slack outlook wasn’t confined to just one area of life; it permeated across into other areas.

Some favourite bits:

‘An epidemic of whooping-cough which was racking the children and disturbing their parent’s nights seemed much more real than the war.’

‘Miss Stalker was a small woman with a large nose and thick black eyebrows - it was her nose and eyebrows that you saw first - the rest of Miss Stalker seemed to be attached to these striking features.’

‘I don’t know whether you have realised what an extremely altruistic person I am. I have always been renowned for the way in which I sacrifice my own interests to the interests of my friends. For instance, when I was six years old I was very ill after eating a whole box of chocolates which belonged to my sister - I did it merely to save her from a similar fate.’

'Several girls had fallen rather heavily for (him) - nice girls too - but he had not even noticed the fact; he had remained heart-whole.'

 'Heart-whole' is a description I hadn't heard of until recently and it has popped up in some other books of this vintage. 

 

High Wages by Dorothy Whipple (1930)

 

I’ve been slowly collecting Persephone Books and have been introduced to some new authors. One of these is Dorothy Whipple (1893-1966) and she is Persephone Book’s best-selling author. Hard Wages is the author's second book, and these are my thoughts on that.

‘Experience doth take dreadfully high wages, but she teacheth like none other.’ – Carlyle

Jane Carter, an eighteen year old girl, goes to Tidsley market-place in Lancashire on her half-day off. She sees the owner of Chadwick’s drapery put a wanted notice in his window for a young lady assistant. Fed up with her current job and tired of living with her stepmother and her children, she applies for the position.

The story begins in 1912 and describes Mr Chadwick’s store as typical of the drapery shops of that period. Class distinctions are reflected in the clothes that people wear but ready-made clothes and other recent developments means that this will all change.

Young single women often lived-in their employer’s homes. They were poorly paid with part of their wages taken by their employer for board and lodging. The hours were long, the food inadequate and Jane, like other young women in the industry, was always hungry.

Mrs Chadwick was rather mean. Not excessively so; but just mean enough to add interest to her days. She enjoyed exerting her ingenuity in the provision, for the girls, of suppers that did not cost more than threepence a head. She was adept at ringing the changes on cheap food. It was nice to think, too, that the tasty little suppers she took with Mr. Chadwick upstairs were justified by the economies she practised downstairs.

Mr Briggs was a man who had risen in society and was enjoying his elevated status. Known as a judge of cotton staple, he understood the trade thoroughly had been asked into partnership with Mr Greenwood. Mr Greenwood’s wife was the autocrat of Tidsley and Jane had the misfortune of getting on the wrong side of this woman. Mrs Briggs felt out of her league with the changes that her husband’s sudden rise in society brought. She had no confidence and the autocrat didn’t make life any easier for her. Mr Chadwick took his cues from Mrs Greenwood, pandered to her whims and went out of his way to try to please her. He had no time for Mrs Briggs as he toadied to Mrs Greenwood in everything. One day Mrs Briggs ventured into Chadwick’s drapery. She had no idea of what suited her, but Jane with her eye for style and her helpful and kind suggestions, impressed her. This was the beginning of a friendship that enabled Jane to open her own dress shop later on. 

One of Dorothy Whipple’s greatest strengths is that she was a supremely moral novelist. ‘She cared so much about people, about her characters, and this intense involvement, compassion and insight is what makes her writing so irresistible.’

Friendships play a large part in the story. Misunderstandings in relationships, jealousy and the effects of war (in this case, World War I) are explored. I loved that Jane was introduced to literature and stimulating discussions through a friendship. Whipple was a contemporary of H.G. Wells (1866-1946) and Arnold Bennett (1867-1931) and both authors were mentioned in the novel. Jane was introduced to Bennett’s Old Wives’ Tale by a friend.

The train came in, filling the station with clouds of white smoke of strange, tumultuous beauty.

Jane’s days were now like a succession of crammed cupboards that would not shut on their contents. Things fell out in miscellaneous confusion and had to be picked up and put into the next cupboard, from which they fell out again and so on until they positively had to be attended to.

A very enjoyable book that I think would have had a very different ending if a modern author had written it. It is realistic but hopeful and I agree with the observation above that Whipple was a supremely moral writer. Like her wonderful Someone at a Distance she provides a redemptive pathway while appreciating that actions do have consequences. I’ll certainly be looking for more of her books.