I don't remember where I first heard of Jenna Bailey's book Can Any Mother Help Me? but it has been across the blogosphere like wildfire over the past year or so. Ironically, a few people bought it because of a mention or two here at Stuck-in-a-Book in the past - because I got my copy in mid 2008. It was one of those titles I just *needed* to own immediately, had to read immediately... and then, of course, it somehow languished on my bookshelves for the best part of two years. But no longer!
Can Any Mother Help Me? tells the story of the Cooperative Correspondence Club - known to its members as CCC - which began in 1935 when a young woman wrote to Nursery World: Can any mother help me? I live a very lonely life as I have no near neighbours. I cannot afford to buy a wireless. I adore reading, but with no library am very limited with books. I dislike needlework, though I have a lot to do! I get so down and depressed after the children are in bed and I'm alone in the house. I sew, read and write stories galore, but in spite of good resolutions, and the engaging company of cat and dog, I do brood, and "dig the dead." I have had a rotten time, and been cruelly hurt, both physically and mentally, but I know it is bad to brood and breed hard thoughts and resentment. Can any reader suggest an occupation that will intrigue me and exclude "thinking" and cost nothing!
The solution was to set up a collective magazine (of which there were apparently over two hundred that are known about) to which women would contribute, under pseudonyms ranging from 'Sirod' (Doris backwards) to 'Cotton Goods' (for the proudly working-class) to 'Elektra' and 'A Priori'. The members came and went, but over half a century these women sent around their contributions on all manner of topics, but mostly simply about their own lives. Ad Astra organised it all, and sent them out in the beautiful homemade covers shown in a picture below.
The book is essentially a selection of articles from different magazines, with editorial material provided by Bailey. She has grouped the articles thematically: issues of raising children (members had to be mothers - the issue was raised of allowing non-mothers to join, but it was decided against); the war; everyday life; marriage; working; hard times; growing old. There are quite a few 'voices' in the book, and only a few become really familiar, but it's certainly an interesting sample and cross-section of a fascinating project.
I loved the idea of the CCC, and did enjoy reading the book, but somehow it didn't *quite* match up to what I was expecting. Or rather, what I was hoping - because I didn't know how I expected Bailey to arrange the material. She could only really pick and choose certain pieces, it would be impossible to give the feeling of belonging to the group - instead, I felt a little like an eavesdropper. Also, once all the articles were typed up, with marginalia noted in neat little font, the feel of the magazine was lost. I'd have loved a facsimile edition of one or two copies of the magazine - so that all the original handwriting and margin notes and crossings-out would have been reproduced. But perhaps that wouldn't be possible, or too expensive, or even illegible.
When Claire reviewed the book, she pondered over blogging as a modern equivalent of the CCC. In a way it is, but much closer (in my experience) is the Yahoo Group I'm in. Are other people in these sorts of email groups, where people send out emails to a whole group, and correspond that way? They're not as popular as they once were, but the one I've been in since January 2004 (a quarter of my life!) is incredibly dear to me. The experiences of the CCC sounded very familiar - the cautious and slightly nervous initial face-to-face meetings, which become regular and joyous occasions; the feeling that you can share close, personal events with people you've never had the opportunity to meet; the joy of kindred spirits. Who knows whether we'll still be going in fifty years' time (with some record-breaking-aged people, if we do) but I know that it has been, and will continue to be, a very special part of my life.
If Bailey's book couldn't quite convey this sense of intimacy and special-ness, that's only to be expected, because the reader must remain an intrigued outsider to the group. At the same time, it is the only way that we can now remember such wonderful groups and I applaud Bailey (and the Mass Observation project which held the material, and also gave rise to significant books like Nella Last's War) for immortalising the CCC and making their venture accessible to many.
Oh, and for anybody reading this in Oxford... the £2 bookshop has a number of copies...
You'll be delighted to know that my failsafe computer tactic - ignore the problem and it will go away - has once more worked its magic. My 'b' key, though needing a tiny bit more persuasion than the others, is almost as good as new. All through the magic of ignoring the issue. Trust me, if restarting the computer doesn't fix the issue, then try ignoring it. Like all other dangerous animals, it secretly craves attention, and will right itself if is starved of it.So why is this particularly pertinent today? Well, I realised I hadn't blogged properly about Shakespeare by Bill Bryson. That's a lot of 'b's, especially when you remember that William is known fondly as Billybob by myself and others who took the Shakespeare paper alongside me in finals.
The Carbon Copy bought me Shakespeare for my birthday, along with the wonderful and moving film Amazing Grace and, possibly my favourite, a little picture of Eeyore receiving his birthday balloon. My previous experience with Bill Bryson is positive - loved Mother Tongue, which I read about five years ago. Fascinating stuff on the evolution of the English language, and incredibly readable.
'Readable' always sounds a bit like damning with faint praise - cereal packets deserve the same honour - but it really isn't. Take it from one who had to read a lot of literary criticism, readability (is that a word?) is a must. Shakespeare follows suit - Bryson has obviously done a great deal of arduous and scholarly research, and the resulting book manages to be both deeply informative and incredibly amusing. Tricky combination.
So why do we need another book about Shakespeare? Bryson is honest enough to tell us how many thousands are on offer. Can't remember the exact amount, but enough to make sure I could comfortably be reading a book about Shakespare every week for the rest of my life - not mentioning the rate at which they're still being published. What sets this book apart is that Bryson's character and authorship is expressed through style and wit, not groundless speculation or wide context. Shakespeare is only about 200 pages long, but it is an essential and reliable tome. Everything we know about Shakespeare is in here. A few theories and possibilities are mentioned, but they are shown to be just that, and not argued as certain. The funniest chapter is the final one, on Anti-Stratford theorists i.e. those who, for some reason or other, refuse to believe Billybob wrote his plays. Littered with such scathing lines as "an excellent theory, if it weren't for the complete lack of evidence to support it," and "X demonstrated amazing foresight in, seeing as he died before many of Shakespeare's plays were written, secreting enough manuscripts that they could be gradually released, and correctly estimating the time period between his own and Shakespeare's death". I paraphrase, but you get the gist - very funny.
For the rest of the book - the first chapters sketch out Shakespeare's life; where he was, different instances at which he is mention in some document or other. A nice touch is that Bryson often details the person who discovered a new fact about Billybob, often through laborious and painstaking reading of many manuscripts and documents. Credit where due, is Bryson's motto. Subsequent chapters talk about the plays and the sonnets - not lit crit, but where they were performed or when they were first published. All very interesting, and if it sounds dry (and to me it doesn't!) then Bryson's wit and charm will fascinate you.
There have been thousands of books written about Billybob, and I daresay there will be thousands more, but for the facts in an engaging and funny way, this can't be bettered.
It's the 25th, and you know what that means - only two months until Christmas. Yep, usually I'm there with the Grumpy Old Men and complaining that Christmas comes earlier every year, with tinsel going up as soon as the Easter eggs have been melted down for fondue. But I'll make an exception for books, as it's not their fault that marketing has to happen in October. Today I'm going to chat about two different Christmas books - very different, actually, but both worth mentioning.
This week, like a couple of other bloggers, I was sent Lynn Brittney's Christine Kringle, described as a book for children of all ages. All the Gift Bringers from around the world are meeting for the annual Yule Conference, which debates such issues as whether Gift Days should be internationally universalised, or whether women can be become the hereditary Gift Bringer if a Yule family have no male offspring. This is especially important to Christine, daughter of Kriss Kringle, as she has no brothers and wishes to inherit her Yule duty. In the midst of this, the council of Plinkbury, a town in Worcestershire (hurray!) decide to ban Christmas. Off flies Christine and her Japanese and English friends to get Christmas reinstated... An enjoyable book, though not my usual fare, and was delighted to see Worcestershire get in print, as it was my homeland for thirteen years. Can't work out if Plinkbury is based on a genuine town, though... there certainly isn't one of that name. Unsurprising, really.When I started the book, I was a little dubious at all the national stereotypes. You know - Italians in the Mafia; British sullen; Japanese polite and industrious; Americans saving the day. But Brittney melds these characters into a fun plot which keeps you turning the pages. I do have quibbles with the polemics Christine delivers - as a Christian, I didn't like to see the Christ part of CHRISTmas swept under the carpet so much, quite openly, and I'm too British not to blush at some of the bits about loving ourselves and finding a hero inside every one of us and so forth. But if you're feeling Christmassy and uncynical, give this one a go.
The second Christmas book I wanted to mention is Jostein Gaarder's The
Christmas Mystery, initially published in 1992. The book is divided into 24, being the first twenty-four days of Decemver - like a big advent calendar, in fact. The central character, a little boy called Joachim, is given a mysterious old advent calendar - each day opened provides a slip of paper and a picture. Through the story on the bits of paper, we follow Elisabet as she wends her way through the shepherds and wisemen as they journey towards Christ's Nativity - and Joachim's family try to connect it to the Elisabet who disappeared at Christmas 1948. This is a beautiful book, with mystery and atmosphere and the magic of Christmas without making the festival commercial or saccharine. I read it last year, a chapter a day through advent, and would definitely recommend reading it that way.
Oh, and don't forget you still have a chance to get Miss Hargreaves!
Had a lovely time at home, soaking in the countryside, and am now back in my usual blogging spot of Oxford - specifically the desk of the back bedroom in Regent Street. While down in Somerset (or Zumm as I affectionately label it) I was able to offer my lovely Aunt Jacq. a cup of tea, for she also lives in Zumm, and she reciprocated with much more exciting gifts...
No, not my birthday of anything - she just saw them and thought of me. It pays to make your opinions known, doesn't it?! Well, you all know I love Virginia Woolf - and I'd ummmed and ahhhed over the Alan Bennett for a while, glad the choice was made for me.
Haven't used the mug yet, but a car journey too and from Bristol to see The Carbon Copy (the whole Clan together for a few hours at least!) allowed me to read The Uncommon Reader, and greatly did I enjoy it. Haven't read any Alan B before, though did see The History Boys film, and have vague recollections of Talking Heads being on in the car in my younger days. It was great fun - I'm sure everyone knows the plot by now. The Queen bumps into the local library van, and, out of politeness, borrows an Ivy Compton-Burnett. Love her or loathe her (ICB, that is), you have to acknowledge she's not a great one with which to start the long path of literacy:
'She's not a popular author, ma'am'.
'Why, I wonder? I made her a dame'.Mr Hutchings refrained from saying that this wasn't necessarily the road to the public's heart.
As she pursues more and more books, with the help of kitchen boy Norman who becomes her constant aide, her royal duties start to suffer... This book, as well as being witty and just the right combination of absurd and plausible, also offers some genuine insights into the realm of reading, without being too truism-y. 'I think of literature,' she wrote, 'as a vast country to the far borders of which I am journeying but cannot possibly reach'. Ever felt like that?!!
And just a final word about the sketch. Not a great one today, I'm afraid, so if you need a clue just think 'Bohemian Rhapsody'.
I don't remember where I first heard of Jenna Bailey's book Can Any Mother Help Me? but it has been across the blogosphere like wildfire over the past year or so. Ironically, a few people bought it because of a mention or two here at Stuck-in-a-Book in the past - because I got my copy in mid 2008. It was one of those titles I just *needed* to own immediately, had to read immediately... and then, of course, it somehow languished on my bookshelves for the best part of two years. But no longer!
