My Commonplace Book: February 2018

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A selection of words and pictures to represent February’s reading:

commonplace book
noun
a book into which notable extracts from other works are copied for personal use.

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Now the fascination of the past, according to psychologists, consists in its air of security. The past is over and done with; nothing more can happen in it; it is therefore a refuge from the difficult to-day and the problematic tomorrow.

There Came Both Mist and Snow by Michael Innes (1940)

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“At least you’re not a stranger to yourself, Miss Hardcastle,” I say. “Surely you can take some solace in that?”

“Quite the contrary,” she says, looking at me. “I imagine it would be rather splendid to wander away from myself for a little while. I envy you.”

The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle by Stuart Turton (2018)

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“Clever? Who said that we all had to be clever? But we have to have courage. The whole position of woman is what it is to-day, because so many of us have followed the line of least resistance, and have sat down placidly in a little provincial town, waiting to get married. No wonder that the men have thought that this is all that we are good for.”

The Crowded Street by Winifred Holtby (1924)

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Example of a ‘corpse road’ or coffin path.

I’m used to all weathers and I know the tricks that Nature can play. I’ve scared myself at times, imagining spirits in the mist or glimpsing marsh lights dancing on the moor at midnight. But those are nothing more than half-remembered fantasies of a child with a head full of goblins and fairies, put there by a God-fearing father with a dread of the Devil’s creatures. I’m not one for superstition and I’ve never before felt truly afraid…

The Coffin Path by Katherine Clements (2018)

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It may be obtuseness on my part, but I never could see that people who lived in the Basses-Pyrénées are any more cultivated or had any broader horizons than people who live in the Green Mountains. My own experience is that when you actually live with people, day after day, year after year, you find about the same range of possibilities in any group of them.

The Brimming Cup by Dorothy Canfield Fisher (1919)

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A feeling of tension hung about Lisbon these hot days of early summer: rumours ran the streets in the daytime, as packs of scavenging dogs did by night, and Camilla did not know which she found more disturbing, the whispers that ran, incomprehensibly, through the Great Square by day, or the desolate howling of the dogs by night.

Marry in Haste by Jane Aiken Hodge (1969)

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It’s really most remarkable how the human race is so seldom satisfied with what it’s got. Give a man the world and he’s still pining for the moon.

Re-read of Penmarric by Susan Howatch (1971)

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Kyrenia, Cyprus

I should like to live here, thought Amanda dreamily; and remembered what Miss Moon had said about Time…that in the Villa Oleander, Time was their servant, and not they the servants of Time. Perhaps that was true of all Cyprus. Certainly this shimmering blue day held a timeless and dreamlike quality. But it was a deceptive quality, for Time must move on here as relentlessly as it did in colder and harsher countries, and it was only a pleasant illusion that here it drifted slowly and lazily. One day the world would catch up with Cyprus.

Death in Cyprus by M.M. Kaye (1956)

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She had learnt to wait for the changes and the help that life brings. Life is like the sea, sometimes you are in the trough of the wave, sometimes on the crest. When you are in the trough, you wait for the crest, and always, trough or crest, a mysterious tide bears you forward to an unseen, but certain shore.

Someone at a Distance by Dorothy Whipple (1953)

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Favourite books read in February:

Penmarric (re-read), The Crowded Street, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle

Where did my reading take me in February?

England, USA, Portugal, Cyprus

Authors read for the first time in February:

Stuart Turton, Dorothy Canfield Fisher, Dorothy Whipple

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Have you read any of these books? What have you been reading in February?

Someone at a Distance by Dorothy Whipple

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Today would have been Dorothy Whipple’s birthday – and she is the next author in Jane’s Birthday Book of Underappreciated Lady Authors. I have never read any of her books but have been curious about them for a while and I thought a good place to start might be Someone at a Distance, her 1953 novel which seems to be her most popular and which has been published both as a standard dove-grey Persephone and as a Persephone Classic.

On the surface, Someone at a Distance is the simple story of the breakdown of a marriage. At the beginning of the novel, publisher Avery North and his wife, Ellen, seem to be the perfect couple. Having been married for twenty years, they are no longer passionately in love but still have an affectionate relationship and appear to be quite content with their comfortable, middle-class lives. They are devoted to their two children – eighteen-year-old Hugh, who is away on National Service, and fifteen-year-old schoolgirl Anne – and have a lovely house in the countryside with a large paddock for Anne’s beloved pony, Roma. If only Avery’s mother, the elderly Mrs North, hadn’t begun to feel lonely living alone in her big house nearby, and if only she hadn’t decided to look for a companion for the summer…

Old Mrs North responds to an advertisement in The Times – Young Frenchwoman desires to spend July, August in English home. French conversation. Light domestic duties – and soon Louise Lanier comes to stay. Louise is the daughter of a bookseller in a provincial town in France and sees coming to England as a way of escaping from the humiliation of being rejected by her lover who has recently married another woman. Bored and miserable, Louise sets her sights on Avery North and won’t be satisfied until she has caused as much trouble as possible.

As I’ve said, the plot is a simple one, but Whipple’s writing and the way in which she tells the story give it the additional layers that make it such a compelling read. You can see what is going to happen almost from the start, but you don’t know exactly when or how it will happen – and when the inevitable moment comes, you feel as shocked and upset as the characters themselves. My sympathies were with Ellen; she came across as such a genuinely nice person, who really didn’t deserve the treatment she receives from Avery and Louise. I was impressed by how well she coped with the huge changes in her life…at least until an incident near the end of the book, which disappointed me slightly as I discovered that Ellen didn’t feel quite the way I would have liked her to have felt (sorry for being vague, but I’m trying to avoid too many spoilers).

The reactions of the other characters – the North children, the servants, friends and neighbours, and Louise’s family in France – are also explored. In some ways their thoughts and emotions are timeless, but in others this does feel like a book of its time, for example when Anne is too ashamed to tell her teachers and friends at school about her parents’ separation because she thinks they will view her differently. As for Louise, she is a wonderful character. It would have been easy for Whipple to write her as a one-dimensional villain, who does what she does purely out of spite and nastiness, but instead she takes the time to show us Louise’s life in France and to try to explain what made her such a bitter person. There were times when I could almost, but not quite, feel sorry for Louise – although in the end it was her parents I pitied, as they were forced to come to terms with the sort of woman their daughter was.

Someone at a Distance is a great book, with much more emotional depth and complexity than I expected when I first started to read. Now that I’ve been introduced to Dorothy Whipple, I’m sure I’ll be reading more of her work.

The Coffin Path by Katherine Clements

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This is Katherine Clements’ third novel set in 17th century England, but it has a different feel from the previous two. Rather than being a straight historical novel like The Crimson Ribbon and The Silvered Heart, The Coffin Path is a ghost story with a lonely rural setting and this time there is much less focus on the political and social events of the period.

It’s 1674 and there are signs that spring is on its way to the Yorkshire moors. The first lamb of the season is about to make its appearance, but it is a difficult birth and requires human assistance. Mercy Booth of Scarcross Hall, who farms the land and tends the sheep for her elderly father, helps to deliver the lamb into the world but its mother dies in the process – the first of several bad omens. Next, three ancient gold coins go missing from her father’s collection and reappear in unexpected places – and then Mercy begins to hear noises coming from a disused bedchamber upstairs.

Around this time, a stranger arrives looking for work. His name is Ellis Ferreby and although the local people are slow to trust him, he soon proves himself to be a good shepherd and a reliable worker. Ellis, however, is a man with secrets and it seems that he could have reasons of his own for coming to Scarcross Hall.

We slowly get to know both Mercy and Ellis as their stories alternate with each other throughout the novel. We hear what Mercy’s life has been like, growing up without a mother, with only her eccentric father, Bartram, and the servants for company – and we learn of her hopes for the future, which centre around the knowledge that one day, as her father’s only heir, she will inherit her beloved Scarcross Hall. As for Ellis, his background is shrouded in mystery and the truth about both his past and his purpose in being at Scarcross is only revealed later in the novel.

The 17th century is obviously a period which interests Katherine Clements and of which she has a lot of knowledge: The Crimson Ribbon was the story of a servant in the household of Oliver Cromwell, while The Silvered Heart was about a highwaywoman in the aftermath of the English Civil War. The Coffin Path is set just a few decades after those two books yet I felt that the story would have worked just as well if it had been set in almost any other period, either an earlier century or a later one. Although the effects of the recent Civil War do still linger in the lives of our characters, this only has any real significance towards the end of the book – otherwise, perhaps because Scarcross Hall is so isolated from the wider world, there is a general feeling of timelessness.

However, what the novel lacks in sense of time is made up for in sense of place. There are some wonderful descriptions of the moors surrounding Scarcross Hall, bringing to life this harsh but beautiful landscape. We also explore some of the old traditions and beliefs which survive in this remote part of England: the White Ladies is an ancient stone circle which the villagers associate with evil, while the Coffin Path of the title refers to the old track down which coffins would be carried from the moors to the church for burial. It’s no wonder that in a place like this, people like Ellis and Mercy are viewed with suspicion and distrust – Ellis because he is an outsider and Mercy because she is an independent, unconventional woman, still unmarried in her thirties and doing ‘a man’s work’ on the farm.

I enjoyed following the personal stories of both main characters and I liked the supernatural elements too: they were suitably eerie, but at the same time subtle enough to keep me wondering whether there really were ghosts involved or whether something else was happening. My only problem with the book (other than the fact that, like many novels these days, it is written in present tense) was that there were times when the plot seemed to be moving forward very slowly. It didn’t help that the first few chapters are devoted to describing, in great detail, the birth of a lamb; I would have preferred a stronger opening to pull me straight into the story.

Of the three books by Katherine Clements I have read, I think I liked both of the others better than this one, but it’s good to see that she has tried something slightly different here. What will she write next, I wonder?

Thanks to Headline for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

There Came Both Mist and Snow by Michael Innes

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Having enjoyed two of Michael Innes’ Inspector Appleby novels last year – Hamlet, Revenge! and Lament for a Maker – I was drawn to this one next, because I liked the title and thought it would be appropriate as we’ve had some snowy weather here recently. Actually, although the novel is set during the Christmas period and there are a few mentions of snow, it doesn’t have a particularly wintry feel and could be read at any time of year.

It begins with our narrator, Arthur Ferryman, arriving at a family gathering at Belrive Priory, the home of his cousin, Basil Roper. The priory has been in the family for generations and nobody feels a closer affinity with its ancient stone walls, formal gardens and soot-blackened ruins than Arthur does. It comes as a shock, then, when he hears that Basil is planning to sell the estate to finance an expedition. As more members of the Roper family descend, along with various cousins and friends, it becomes clear that Arthur is not the only one unhappy with Basil’s decision. When one of the party is found shot while sitting at the desk in the study, there are plenty of suspects and plenty of motives. With perfect timing, Inspector Appleby arrives at the door just as the body is discovered, having received an invitation from Basil. Can Appleby find the culprit before someone else is hurt?

There Came Both Mist and Snow is my least favourite of the three Innes novels I’ve read so far. The mystery itself was well-constructed; Appleby seems to play a bigger role than in the other two books (certainly than in Lament for a Maker, where he only appeared near the end) and I enjoyed following the course of his investigations, with Arthur Ferryman as a sort of Watson character. There are several possible theories which are put forward by various members of the party and all of them seem plausible, which means the reader is constantly being led in the wrong direction. I would never have guessed the eventual solution; the clues aren’t concealed from the reader, exactly, but it’s definitely not something that is easy to deduce for yourself.

My problem with the book was due mainly to the length of time it took to get started. In the opening chapters we are given a lot of information on the Roper family background, the history of Belrive Priory and the changes that have come to the surrounding area as the neon lights of breweries and factories begin to shine into the priory’s ancient grounds. This information wasn’t completely insignificant, but I felt that it could have been woven more gradually into the story so that we could have reached the crime itself more quickly.

I think I would also have found the book more enjoyable if the characters had not been such an unpleasant and uninteresting group of people! I did like one of them – Arthur’s cousin Lucy Chigwidden, who happens to be a crime novelist, which gives Innes a chance to poke fun at his own profession – but none of the others were what I would consider strong or memorable characters.

I was a bit disappointed by this one, especially after enjoying the others so much, but I will continue to read the Appleby mysteries. I have The Daffodil Affair and Appleby’s End to choose from next.

The Europeans by Henry James

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I’m ashamed to say that this is the first book I’ve read by Henry James. Despite my love of 19th century literature, he is just not an author who has ever appealed to me and although I have started to read one or two of his novels in the past, I have never made it to the end of any of them. When I started to compile my new Classics Club list last year, Ottavia of Novels and Non Fiction recommended a few Henry James books that I might like and I decided on The Europeans based mainly, I have to admit, on the fact that it seemed quite short so I thought I would have a better chance of finishing it. I did finish it – and although I didn’t love it, I now feel more confident about reading more of his books in the future.

The ‘Europeans’ of the title are thirty-three-year-old Eugenia, Baroness Münster, and her younger brother, Felix Young, an artist. Eugenia’s morganatic marriage to Prince Adolf of Silberstadt-Schreckenstein looks to be in danger of falling apart. The prince’s family want to dissolve the marriage for political reasons and, although Eugenia has not yet given her consent, she has come to America with Felix to look for a rich American husband. The Youngs have cousins who live in Boston and on their arrival in New England, they spend some time getting to know them.

The American branch of the family consists of Mr Wentworth, his son Clifford, and his two daughters, Charlotte and Gertrude. Another cousin, Robert Acton, also lives nearby with his younger sister, Lizzie. Although she makes an effort at first, Eugenia decides that she has no desire to become part of the Wentworth’s social circle:

She had come to this quiet corner of the world under the weight of a cruel indignity, and she had been so gracefully, modestly thankful for the rest she found there. She had joined that simple circle over the way; she had mingled in its plain, provincial talk; she had shared its meagre and savorless pleasures. She had set herself a task, and she had rigidly performed it. She had conformed to the angular conditions of New England life, and she had had the tact and pluck to carry it off as if she liked them.

Felix, on the other hand, enjoys spending time with his cousins, especially Gertrude, with whom he has fallen in love. However, he is not the only one interested in Gertrude – Mr Brand, the minister, is expected to marry her, even though he is clearly better suited to Charlotte. Meanwhile, Clifford Wentworth, who has been sent home from Harvard for drinking, becomes attracted to both Eugenia and Lizzie Acton – while Robert Acton, recently returned from business in China, also turns his attentions to Eugenia. If you think this sounds confusing, you’re right. I was reminded of A Midsummer Night’s Dream as the relationships between these characters gradually became disentangled and each person found themselves with the right partner (apart from one, but I will leave you to discover who that one is).

The main theme of the book appears to be the differences between European and American people – or rather, the differences as Henry James perceived them in 1878, when the novel was written. The European characters, Felix and Eugenia, are portrayed as emotional, free-spirited people living bohemian lifestyles, while their American cousins are presented as serious, reserved and unsophisticated. They are stereotypes, of course, but probably quite different from the sort of stereotypes that would be used today.

This is a novel driven by the characters and the relationships between them, but I would have preferred more plot as I just didn’t find the characters strong enough to keep me interested from beginning to end. Eugenia intrigued me as it is never quite clear what her motives are or what decisions she is going to make, and the cheerful, optimistic Felix brightens every scene in which he appears, but the others were less memorable and I didn’t feel that I really got to know any of them. As I’ve said, though, this is only a short book and I’m sure that when I get round to reading some of James’ longer novels there will be more development of characters and ideas.

Which Henry James book do you think I should try next?

This is book 3/50 from my second Classics Club list.

The Brimming Cup by Dorothy Canfield Fisher

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I had never read anything by Dorothy Canfield Fisher, so when I saw that she was the next author in Jane’s Birthday Book of Underappreciated Lady Authors, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity. Ideally I would have started with her most popular book, The Home-Maker, but as I didn’t have a copy of that one, it made sense to read the one I did have instead.

The Brimming Cup opens with a prologue set in Italy in 1909 in which we briefly meet Neale and Marise, a young couple who are very much in love and making plans for the future. Marise has a very clear idea of what she wants and expects from their relationship:

“But what would poison us to death…what I’m afraid of, between two people who try to be what we want to be to each other…how can I say it?” She looked at him in an anguish of endeavor, “…not to be true to what is deepest and most living in us…that would be the betrayal I’m afraid of. That’s what I mean. No matter what it costs us personally, or what it brings, we must be true to that. We must!”

Eleven years later, Marise and Neale are married and living in Vermont. It’s 1920 and Marise has just sent their youngest child, Mark, off to school for the first time. Where once she had three children at home all day, now she has none and, with Neale so busy running the family business, Marise’s role as wife and mother is no longer the same as it used to be.

When Mr Welles, a retired office worker, moves in next door accompanied by his younger friend, Vincent Marsh, Marise begins to feel even more unsettled. Vincent makes her think differently about her life and about her relationships with her husband and children. Do the children appreciate everything she has done for them? Do they even truly love her or would they feel the same about any adult who raised them? Is her life being wasted in this quiet little town in Vermont? Forced to question all the things in which she has ever believed, Marise remembers the vow she made in Rome – that she and Neale should each be true to themselves no matter what.

I found it interesting to see how this novel, published in 1919, explores some of the attitudes, views and theories of the time surrounding issues such as childcare, parenthood, identity and marriage. As newcomers to the town, Mr Welles and Vincent Marsh introduce Marise to different ideas and opinions. Vincent’s suggestions that Marise should be making more of her talent as a pianist and break away from the role she has fallen into in the home seem very tempting – especially as she is starting to wonder whether Neale is really the man she thought he was – while Mr Welles’ interest in helping his cousin in Georgia to fight prejudice against black people also gives her something to think about.

I found a lot to appreciate and enjoy in this novel, but I can’t say that I loved the book as a whole and I’m not sure yet whether Dorothy Canfield Fisher is really an author for me. There were times when some of the writing felt a bit too sentimental for my taste and there were some plot developments towards the end, involving another family, the Powers, which felt unnecessarily melodramatic and out of balance with the rest of the story. I will probably try at least one more of her books, though, because it could just be that this one wasn’t the best of introductions for me. I’m tempted by Rough-Hewn, which was published after The Brimming Cup and seems to be a prequel, but maybe I should read The Home-Maker instead to see why so many people love it so much.

The Girl in the Tower by Katherine Arden

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I enjoyed The Bear and the Nightingale when I read it almost exactly a year ago and I remember my excitement on discovering that it was actually the first in a planned trilogy. We haven’t had to wait too long for the second book, The Girl in the Tower, and I’m pleased to say that I loved it even more than the first.

Katherine Arden’s books are a wonderful mixture of history, folklore and fairytales with an atmospheric and wintry Russian setting. If you haven’t read The Bear and the Nightingale yet, I would highly recommend starting with that one – and I should warn you that there may be spoilers for the first book in the rest of this post.

At the beginning of The Girl in the Tower, our heroine Vasilisa Petrovna (Vasya) is fleeing her childhood village of Lesnaya Zemlya. Despite her efforts to rescue the villagers from a great evil, the way in which her father and stepmother died has caused Vasya to be branded a witch, regarded with suspicion and distrust. Accompanied by her magnificent stallion Solovey, Vasya sets off on a journey across northern Rus’ to Moscow, home of her sister Olga – a journey which will be filled with danger as Vasya encounters a group of bandits sweeping across the countryside burning villages and kidnapping children. First, though, she must pay a visit to Morozko, the frost-demon, in his fir-grove deep in the forest…

This novel has a much wider geographical scope than the previous one, in which the action takes place almost entirely in and around Lesnaya Zemlya. I liked this aspect of the book; medieval Moscow is an interesting setting and, with Olga’s family close to the Grand Prince, Dmitrii Ivanovich, we are given some insights into the political situation during this period of Russian history. At the time of the story, the Rus’, as it was known then, is still part of the domain of the Great Khan and the Golden Horde, but with their influence weakening as the Grand Prince grows in power, it seems that things could be about to change.

I was also pleased to see Vasya reunited with her siblings, not just Olga but also their brother Sasha, who is now a priest. Sadly, her relationships with both Olga and Sasha are very strained, partly because of what happened in Lesnaya Zemlya, for which Vasya is unable to give an adequate explanation, and also because of her behaviour on arriving in Moscow, which they consider unladylike and inappropriate. To the modern reader, Vasya is a wonderful character – brave, independent and rebellious – but her refusal to conform to the 14th century ideal of what a woman should be leads her into a great deal of trouble. In contrast, Olga has accepted her place in society and expects her young daughter, Marya, to follow the same course in life. Marya, though, appears to have other ideas!

I’ve said very little so far about the fantasy elements of the novel. We don’t see very much of the household spirits who played such an important part in The Bear and the Nightingale, but there are some appearances by intriguing new figures from Russian myth including the Firebird – and another, more sinister, character whose name I won’t give here so as not to spoil anything! I also enjoyed Vasya’s interactions with her magical horse, Solovey, who has begun to form a personality of his own. Last, but certainly not least, there’s Morozko, frost-demon and god of the dead.

There were hints in the previous book of a possible romance between Vasya and Morozko, and in this book their relationship is developed further. It’s definitely not a conventional love story and because of who Morozko is and the role he has to play in Russian folklore, he has a tendency to come and go throughout the novel. It’s frustrating but it worked for me and I found myself looking forward to the scenes they shared. I loved The Girl in the Tower – and the good news is that the third book in the trilogy, The Winter of the Witch, is expected this August!

Thanks to Ebury Publishing for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This book counts towards this year’s What’s in a Name? Challenge: A title containing the word ‘the’ used twice.