Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Interview and Questions at the League
I'll be making an appearance over at The League of Reluctant Adults on Saturday. Check it out!
First Things First
Something on Susan Hill's blog the other day led me to think about the 'right' order to read an author's n
ovels... obviously there is no single correct way to read an author (note my continuing, slowly, project Backwards With Daphne), but there might be methods more conducive to enjoyment and appreciation...
More specifically: should you read the best book first?
This makes an assumption, of course, that an author has a 'best' book. Perhaps it would just as well be replaced with the word 'favourite', because the dilemma is just the same. My initial response, on Susan's blog, was that reading the best/favourite novel first would lead to all subsequent reads being a disappointment - Lynne pointed out, in the same comments, that one might just give up after an average read. If you read an excellent novel, you'll continue with that author, even if there are a few duds or mediocre reads along the way.
Let me think. I've done this both ways. Barbara Comyns, for example - Our Spoons Came From
Woolworths was enjoyable, but I much preferred Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead, which was on my shelf for years before I read it. Luckily Our Spoons was good enough for me to keep looking for more Comyns, though without any urgency - had it been a shade less enjoyable, I might not have bothered. On the other hand, as always, is Miss Hargreaves by Frank Baker. I've only read one other novel by him - Before I Go Hence - which was likeable enough, but nothing compared to Miss Hargreaves. If I'd read Before I Go Hence first, I probably wouldn't have bothered seeking out Miss Hargreaves - which might well be my favourite novel; certainly top five.
What to do! More importantly, what to recommend? If someone asks me about an author, should I send them towards the Pride and Prejudices or the Mansfield Parks? (Now, there's a cat among the pigeons!)
ovels... obviously there is no single correct way to read an author (note my continuing, slowly, project Backwards With Daphne), but there might be methods more conducive to enjoyment and appreciation...More specifically: should you read the best book first?
This makes an assumption, of course, that an author has a 'best' book. Perhaps it would just as well be replaced with the word 'favourite', because the dilemma is just the same. My initial response, on Susan's blog, was that reading the best/favourite novel first would lead to all subsequent reads being a disappointment - Lynne pointed out, in the same comments, that one might just give up after an average read. If you read an excellent novel, you'll continue with that author, even if there are a few duds or mediocre reads along the way.
Let me think. I've done this both ways. Barbara Comyns, for example - Our Spoons Came From
Woolworths was enjoyable, but I much preferred Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead, which was on my shelf for years before I read it. Luckily Our Spoons was good enough for me to keep looking for more Comyns, though without any urgency - had it been a shade less enjoyable, I might not have bothered. On the other hand, as always, is Miss Hargreaves by Frank Baker. I've only read one other novel by him - Before I Go Hence - which was likeable enough, but nothing compared to Miss Hargreaves. If I'd read Before I Go Hence first, I probably wouldn't have bothered seeking out Miss Hargreaves - which might well be my favourite novel; certainly top five.What to do! More importantly, what to recommend? If someone asks me about an author, should I send them towards the Pride and Prejudices or the Mansfield Parks? (Now, there's a cat among the pigeons!)
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Searching for an E-Book Reader
Here's a fun article from Celeste Fine at Folio Literary Management about her search for the perfect ereader.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Star Gazing
I get sent quite a few 'first novels', so it's a pleasant change to receive a novel which is the third from an author's pen. Of course, I love seeing the first-offs too - but when Star Gazing by Linda Gillard arrived, I had the experiences of Emotional Geology and A Lifetime Burning to which to compare it. Plus, Li
nda has been an e-friend for a few years now, and it's always lovely to hear from her.
I was in a position of knowledge when it came to Linda's second novel, A Lifetime Burning. I wrote about it last year, and though there were obvious aspects of the book which I hadn't experienced (shan't spoil it for you, but let's just say I might have a criminal record if I had experienced them) I am a twin and in a vicar's family, and so could understand those. I've never been so impressed by any literary portrayal of being a twin - Linda understood it so well. I can only assume she has found a similar level of empathy and recognition with blindness. Marianne, the central character of Star Gazing, is blind.
Blind, but not a victim. Bolshy, is our Marianne - "crabbit", to quote Keir. Keir is the man in the novel - an oil rigger who spends his time away from work living on Skye, he's a heady mixture of shy and sensitive and rugged and... does he exist? Linda has said that she was intrigued by the idea of writing a hero who might not exist - since Marianne has to rely on her other senses, she can't be sure that Keir isn't a projection of her imagination, and the reader spends quite a few chapters equally unsure.
But I haven't said much about Marianne, yet. She's middle-aged, and has been blind since birth. A widower, she lives with her vampire-romantic-novel writing sister Louisa (sisters Marianne and Louisa... the influence of Jane Austen hovering somewhere, perhaps?) and is a very determined woman. I always have a little trouble with people who are desperate to be independent - the sort of person who complains that people are being 'patronising' to them - but perhaps that's because I function best in a unit (back to the twin thing, mayhap). With Marianne, she has enough endearing features that I rarely wanted to throttle her. I can't be cross with a woman who says "Pure Enid Blyton - a much maligned author, in my opinion." My only criticism is that she so often mentions that she is blind. Her prerogative, I suppose, but I'm sure most visually impaired people can let the expression "You see what I mean" pass, without pointing out that they can't...
Star Gazing uses three narrative focalisations - Marianne, Louisa, and a third person narrative. Linda uses this skilfully, as she has done before, and the transition from Marianne's internal view to an external perspective highlights the smallness of Marianne's world - as she says, her experience of it stretches only as far as she can hear, smell or touch. The success of Star Gazing must ultimately hinge on the story, and the portrayal of blindness. As I said, I can't judge from my own experience - I'd love to hear from someone who can - but I was fairly convinced. It must be such a difficult task: how to describe the absence of sight from the perspective of one who doesn't know what she hasn't got? There is a strong theme of music throughout - I hardly knew any of the references, but visual things, especially scenery and natural phenomena, are often described to Marianne by their musical equivalent. The beautiful intricacy of a cobweb, for instance - which Marianne has only experienced as sticky and unpleasant - is compared to The Well-Tempered Clavier.
Star Gazing is not as ambitious or controversial as A Lifetime Burning - and consequently, where A Lifetime Burning was a great novel, Star Gazing is a good one. A very good one. It would be surprising if an author had two novels of A Lifetime Burning's power in them, let alone consecutively. Star Gazing, though, demonstrates Linda Gillard's continuing power as a storyteller, a creator of vivid and unusual characters, and a novelist who will hopefully soon get the recognition she deserves. I'm delighted that a fourth novel has already been written - can't wait.
nda has been an e-friend for a few years now, and it's always lovely to hear from her.I was in a position of knowledge when it came to Linda's second novel, A Lifetime Burning. I wrote about it last year, and though there were obvious aspects of the book which I hadn't experienced (shan't spoil it for you, but let's just say I might have a criminal record if I had experienced them) I am a twin and in a vicar's family, and so could understand those. I've never been so impressed by any literary portrayal of being a twin - Linda understood it so well. I can only assume she has found a similar level of empathy and recognition with blindness. Marianne, the central character of Star Gazing, is blind.
Blind, but not a victim. Bolshy, is our Marianne - "crabbit", to quote Keir. Keir is the man in the novel - an oil rigger who spends his time away from work living on Skye, he's a heady mixture of shy and sensitive and rugged and... does he exist? Linda has said that she was intrigued by the idea of writing a hero who might not exist - since Marianne has to rely on her other senses, she can't be sure that Keir isn't a projection of her imagination, and the reader spends quite a few chapters equally unsure.
But I haven't said much about Marianne, yet. She's middle-aged, and has been blind since birth. A widower, she lives with her vampire-romantic-novel writing sister Louisa (sisters Marianne and Louisa... the influence of Jane Austen hovering somewhere, perhaps?) and is a very determined woman. I always have a little trouble with people who are desperate to be independent - the sort of person who complains that people are being 'patronising' to them - but perhaps that's because I function best in a unit (back to the twin thing, mayhap). With Marianne, she has enough endearing features that I rarely wanted to throttle her. I can't be cross with a woman who says "Pure Enid Blyton - a much maligned author, in my opinion." My only criticism is that she so often mentions that she is blind. Her prerogative, I suppose, but I'm sure most visually impaired people can let the expression "You see what I mean" pass, without pointing out that they can't...
Star Gazing uses three narrative focalisations - Marianne, Louisa, and a third person narrative. Linda uses this skilfully, as she has done before, and the transition from Marianne's internal view to an external perspective highlights the smallness of Marianne's world - as she says, her experience of it stretches only as far as she can hear, smell or touch. The success of Star Gazing must ultimately hinge on the story, and the portrayal of blindness. As I said, I can't judge from my own experience - I'd love to hear from someone who can - but I was fairly convinced. It must be such a difficult task: how to describe the absence of sight from the perspective of one who doesn't know what she hasn't got? There is a strong theme of music throughout - I hardly knew any of the references, but visual things, especially scenery and natural phenomena, are often described to Marianne by their musical equivalent. The beautiful intricacy of a cobweb, for instance - which Marianne has only experienced as sticky and unpleasant - is compared to The Well-Tempered Clavier.
Star Gazing is not as ambitious or controversial as A Lifetime Burning - and consequently, where A Lifetime Burning was a great novel, Star Gazing is a good one. A very good one. It would be surprising if an author had two novels of A Lifetime Burning's power in them, let alone consecutively. Star Gazing, though, demonstrates Linda Gillard's continuing power as a storyteller, a creator of vivid and unusual characters, and a novelist who will hopefully soon get the recognition she deserves. I'm delighted that a fourth novel has already been written - can't wait.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Happy Fathers Day!
For the apostrophe-minded, Fathers Day is a minefield. As you see, I have decided for an apostropheless celebration - I think it's a day of fathers, rather than belonging to one (Father's) or many (Fathers')...Anyway - for Our Vicar, and all the other fathers reading, have a great day!
To celebrate the occasion - whom do you think is the best father in literature? I don't really mean the one I enjoy reading about the most, but rather the character who is the best father to his child/ren. If it were the former, I'd plump for Mr. Woodhouse from Emma, but he couldn't be described as a good parent... nor, indeed, could many of Austen's literary parents.
So, have a think. I'm going to ponder on it, and see what I think...
Or just comment on fathers in literature as you wish!
Friday, June 13, 2008
Uncommon Arrangements
I had a book token...
As book-buying excuses go, that one is pretty good. I don't understand how people can have a book token for more than about a week - it's a free book, how can I withstand that temptation? Luckily I found a book I really wanted (always tricky... ahem) and so bought Uncommon
Arrangements : Seven portraits of married life in London literary circles 1910-1939 by Katie Roiphe. With a title like that, how could I not? It's the right period for me, it's domestic, and it is about these couples:
Katherine Mansfield & John Middleton Murray
Vanessa & Clive Bell
Elizabeth von Arnim & John Francis Russell
Ottoline & Philip Morrell
H.G. & Jane Wells
Vera Brittain & George Gordon Catlin
Radclyffe Hall & Una Troubridge
I've arranged those in order of my own interest - but I was pleased to say I'd heard of most of them, including at least one of every pairing. In many ways, this book seems catered just for me - I long to know more about so many of these couples. When a book is that obviously Simon, it would be churlish to leave it on the shelf. And I had a book token (did I mention that?)
'Each chapter is structured around a crisis in a marriage and how it is resolved or not resolved. In some cases the crisis is as large as life-threatening illness, and in others it is as small as a slightly drunken conversation over dinner that threatens the balance of carefully submerged emotions.' So Katie Roiphe writes in the introduction, which is the only bit I've read so far. The introduction does seem a little too touchy-feely, and lots of rhetorical questions (I was reminded of the stereotypical first-year undergraduate essay) but hopefully this will lessen as the main section of the book emerges. Anyway, it would be hard for Roiphe to write about these people without being interesting to me... at the same time, I want her to do them justice.
I'll report back when I'm done...
As book-buying excuses go, that one is pretty good. I don't understand how people can have a book token for more than about a week - it's a free book, how can I withstand that temptation? Luckily I found a book I really wanted (always tricky... ahem) and so bought Uncommon
Arrangements : Seven portraits of married life in London literary circles 1910-1939 by Katie Roiphe. With a title like that, how could I not? It's the right period for me, it's domestic, and it is about these couples:Katherine Mansfield & John Middleton Murray
Vanessa & Clive Bell
Elizabeth von Arnim & John Francis Russell
Ottoline & Philip Morrell
H.G. & Jane Wells
Vera Brittain & George Gordon Catlin
Radclyffe Hall & Una Troubridge
I've arranged those in order of my own interest - but I was pleased to say I'd heard of most of them, including at least one of every pairing. In many ways, this book seems catered just for me - I long to know more about so many of these couples. When a book is that obviously Simon, it would be churlish to leave it on the shelf. And I had a book token (did I mention that?)
'Each chapter is structured around a crisis in a marriage and how it is resolved or not resolved. In some cases the crisis is as large as life-threatening illness, and in others it is as small as a slightly drunken conversation over dinner that threatens the balance of carefully submerged emotions.' So Katie Roiphe writes in the introduction, which is the only bit I've read so far. The introduction does seem a little too touchy-feely, and lots of rhetorical questions (I was reminded of the stereotypical first-year undergraduate essay) but hopefully this will lessen as the main section of the book emerges. Anyway, it would be hard for Roiphe to write about these people without being interesting to me... at the same time, I want her to do them justice.
I'll report back when I'm done...
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Booking Through Thursday
Today's question kind of answers itself, if you read through this week's entries. At least part of it is answered, anyway...
Have you ever been a member of a book club? How did your group choose (or, if you haven’t been, what do you think is the best way to choose) the next book and who would lead discussion?
Do you feel more or less likely to appreciate books if you are obliged to read them for book groups rather than choosing them of your own free will? Does knowing they are going to be read as part of a group affect the reading experience?
So, YES, I am a member of a book group! Two, in fact, which both met this week. I love book groups; they're such a wonderful way of talking about literature without being scholarly (I also love academic English, but enjoy the divide between studying and reading groups.) One choose the books by compiling a shortlist of about four, and having an online poll (I'm currently rooting for My Cousin Rachel) while the other just decides six months at a time, from whatever people throw into the circle. My latest suggestion there was Edward Carey's Alva & Irva, which I haven't read, but looks fascinating.
To go onto the second part of the question, I don't think it really alters how I read a book (except that I'll probably be reading it very quickly, at the last minute!) - but it will affect the ways in which I reflect upon it. Except for writing about them on here, most books I read aren't dwelt upon - I don't forget them immediately, but I certainly don't spend much time considering my opinion. To have an evening spent discussing it is invaluable, and has sometimes changed my mind about a book.
I heartily recommend Jenny Hartley's book on the subject, Reading Groups, which was written up from questionnaires sent out to lots of book groups. Fascinating, and very well written. I wrote more about it here...
As always - over to you! Same questions as above.
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