Thornyhold by Mary Stewart

Thornyhold After reading all the reviews and posts during Anbolyn’s recent Mary Stewart Reading Week, I had almost decided that the next Stewart books I read would be her Merlin series, but instead I found myself picking up this one from the library shelf.

Thornyhold starts off differently from the other Mary Stewart books I’ve read. Instead of getting straight into the action, our narrator, Geillis (Gilly) Ramsey, spends the first few chapters looking back on her childhood. As the daughter of a vicar and his cold, distant wife, bullied at school and feeling lonely and isolated, it was not a very happy childhood for Gilly and the one bright spot in her life was her relationship with her mother’s cousin, another Geillis.

Several years go by and both of Gilly’s parents die, leaving her an orphan in her early twenties. Just as she’s wondering what to do with her life, she hears that Geillis has also died, leaving her cottage in the countryside to Gilly. The name of the cottage is Thornyhold and it comes complete with an overgrown garden, a black cat called Hodge and a collection of dusty books of magic spells and herbal remedies. Could Gilly’s cousin Geillis have been a witch? With the help of William, a ten-year-old boy who shares her love of nature, Gilly begins to uncover some of the secrets of Thornyhold.

Thornyhold is one of Mary Stewart’s most recent books, published in 1988 (only Stormy Petrel and Rose Cottage came after that) and I’ve found that these final three books have a different feel from her earlier ones, being a lot gentler with less of the suspense and adventure that are usually associated with her work. In this book, although there are a few mysteries for Gilly to solve and one or two people who try to cause trouble for her (including the housekeeper Agnes Trapp, who seems desperate to get her hands on one of cousin Geillis’ herbology books), I never felt that I needed to worry about Gilly or that there was any danger of there not being a happy ending. But while I do prefer the more exciting, suspenseful books such as Nine Coaches Waiting and The Moonspinners, I enjoyed this one too, for different reasons.

This book may not have the exotic setting that many of her others have, but that doesn’t mean the descriptions aren’t still beautiful. It was a pleasure to watch Gilly exploring her new home, settling into the cottage and discovering the natural beauty of her surroundings. The story is set in the 1940s and has a lovely nostalgic feel with references to rationing and other details of post-war life. I also liked the characters, especially Gilly herself, who blossoms from a lonely child into a confident young woman with a lot to offer in terms of friendship and love (yes, there’s a love story too). Although this hasn’t become a favourite Stewart novel, it was a nice, relaxing read with a magical atmosphere and just what I was in the mood for!

After the Sunday Papers #12: Trying again

newspaper-clip-art-4 “She had read novels while other people perused the Sunday papers”
~ Mary Elizabeth Braddon, The Doctor’s Wife

***

I know I say this every time I write one of my Sunday Papers posts, but I can’t believe how long it’s been since the last one! It was always my intention to have a weekly roundup of my reading, upcoming reading events and other book-related musings, but for one reason or another I’ve never been able to get organised and post on a regular basis. As I do like to have some variety in my blogging and I feel that I’ve been posting nothing but book reviews recently, I’m going to try again and aim to post on at least one or two Sundays each month, even if I can’t manage every Sunday. Thinking about this has made me consider my whole blogging schedule (or lack of it) and I’ve been wondering whether it would be more or less stressful to have a fixed schedule where I post, for example, two reviews a week on a Tuesday and Thursday, with a post like this one on a Sunday, if I feel like it. What do you think? Do you plan ahead and post on certain days or do you prefer to be more spontaneous?

A More Diverse Universe Anyway, let’s start with an update on what I’m reading at the moment, beginning with my choice for A More Diverse Universe, which is being hosted by Aarti of Booklust from 15-17 November. Aarti has defined this on her blog as follows: “A More Diverse Universe celebrates diversity in speculative fiction by encouraging people to read books in the fantasy or science fiction genres that were written by people of color.” Who else is taking part in this? You can sign up here.

I had some trouble at first finding a book that would fit the requirements and that actually appealed to me (which I think highlights the need for an event like this, as there are so many more fantasy and science fiction books to choose from that are written by white authors), but when I saw that a few participants last year had read Salman Rushdie, I thought it would be a good opportunity to finally try one of his books. I am currently halfway through The Enchantress of Florence, which is full of magical realism, and enjoying it so far.

Speaking of fantasy, it’s not a genre I read often, but over the last few days I’ve been having fun re-reading my favourite fantasy series for the first time in more than a decade. More on that in a future post!

wilkieinwinter-1024x1024 Another event coming up in December is Wilkie in Winter hosted by The Estella Society. Wilkie Collins is one of my favourite authors and it’s been too long since I last read one of his books!

There are going to be two readalongs as part of Wilkie in Winter – The Frozen Deep and The Woman in White – though I haven’t decided yet if I want to participate in them. I’ve never read The Frozen Deep so I’m tempted to join in with that one, but I’ve already read The Woman in White a few times and while I do love it, I think I would rather re-read one of his others…possibly Armadale. I can never decide whether The Woman in White or Armadale is my favourite!

What have you been reading this week? What are your reading plans for the rest of 2013?

Sleeping Patterns by J.R. Crook

Sleeping Patterns I was lucky enough to win a copy of this book in a giveaway hosted by Charlie of The Worm Hole earlier this year. It’s probably not a book I would have chosen for myself but Charlie’s review (and others) made it sound very intriguing.

To begin with, the book is dedicated to the memory of the author, J.R. Crook, who we are told in the introduction (written by his friend, a fictional character called Annelie Strandli) is dead*. Before he died, Annelie says, he sent her fifteen envelopes each containing one piece of an untitled story and she has put them together to form a book. Annelie received these fifteen story fragments out of order and has presented them in that same order in the book so that Chapter 5 appears first, followed by Chapter 1, then 11.

Annelie herself is a main character in the story. A Finnish student living in London, the story tells of her relationship with Berry Walker, an aspiring writer. Annelie, Berry and Jamie (J.R.) Crook all live in the same student accommodation. Intrigued by the mysterious Berry, who is an insomniac, Annelie begins sneaking into his room and reading his writings, which he keeps in his desk drawer. Hoping for some insights into Berry’s character, Annelie becomes absorbed in the story he is writing – the story of Boy One, who has the habit of falling asleep at the most inappropriate times and entering the world of dreams.

There are so many clever ideas to be found in this book and it has such an unusual, innovative structure! I was impressed by its originality, though a bit disappointed that the actual plot wasn’t more compelling. Due to the fragmented nature of the story, possibly reflecting Berry’s disturbed sleeping patterns and Boy One’s dreams, I found it difficult to follow what was really happening (a story-within-a-story-within-a-story doesn’t even begin to describe it!) However, if you see the book as a sort of puzzle or jigsaw to be solved, then it definitely works in that respect.

When presented with chapters numbered incorrectly, the natural reaction is to want to read them in the correct numerical order, starting with Chapter 1. I managed to resist the temptation and just read the book straight through from cover to cover the way it was presented, but I did wonder whether the story would have made more sense if read in the right order or whether that would have just left me more confused. After spending most of the book feeling lost I was pleased to find that things did start to become clearer towards the end! At just over 100 pages, it would have been short enough to read again if I had wanted to and I’m sure a lot of things would have been clarified on a second read.

This book won the Luke Bitmead Bursary for previously unpublished authors and, having now read it, I can see why, because I can honestly say I’ve never read a book quite like Sleeping Patterns before. My personal preference is for more traditional novels – stories with a beginning, middle and end – but I’m always happy to try something a bit different. And this was certainly different!

* Don’t worry – J.R. Crook is not really dead. He even signed my copy of the book!

The Firebird by Susanna Kearsley

The Firebird Nicola Marter has a special talent, but it’s one that she doesn’t like to admit to – by touching an object she is able to see the history of the other people who have held that same object in the past. When a woman brings a wooden carving of a Russian firebird into the art gallery where Nicola works, asking for a valuation, Nicola is faced with a dilemma. The woman claims that the firebird was given to one of her ancestors by Empress Catherine of Russia and when Nicola holds the carving in her hands she knows that this is the truth, but unless she can find a way to prove it the carving is worth nothing.

Nicola decides to find out all she can about the history of the firebird but as her own psychic abilities are not strong enough, she enlists the help of an old boyfriend, Rob McMorran. Rob shares her special gift of psychometry, but while Nicola tries to keep hers a secret, Rob is happy for everyone to know about his powers. This difference in attitude is the reason they ended their relationship several years earlier, but Nicola knows that Rob is the only person who can help her now. Together they trace the path of the firebird from Slains Castle in Scotland to a convent in Belgium and finally to eighteenth century St Petersburg, and along the way they unravel the story of a young girl called Anna and learn how the Empress’s wooden firebird came to be in her possession.

This book surprised me because based solely on the synopsis, I’d expected to be learning about Russian history, but instead the focus is on Scottish history, particularly the Jacobites (the supporters of the deposed King James VII of Scotland – and II of England – and his heirs). I’ve read other historical fiction novels about the Jacobite Risings and always find it a sad subject to read about; the Jacobites were so devoted to their cause and so hopeful of success, but we know that all their efforts would only end in tragic failure. Yet somehow, in all my previous reading about the Jacobites, I had missed the fact that as well as looking to France and Spain for support, there was also a community of Jacobites working in Russia. It was interesting to read the author’s note at the end of the book and find out a bit more about the historical aspects of the story, including which of the eighteenth century characters really existed and which were fictional.

I often see Susanna Kearsley compared to Mary Stewart and in this book, the telepathic connection between Nicola and Rob reminded me of the one between Bryony and her secret lover in Stewart’s Touch Not the Cat, who could also read each other’s minds and communicate without words – though of course Nicola and Rob have the additional ability of being able to see into the past and watch the actions of people who lived many years ago. I loved following Anna’s story (especially in the earlier chapters set in Scotland and Ypres) but I also enjoyed the contemporary storyline and the interactions between Rob and Nicola. The transitions from one time period to another were smooth and natural and I thought the balance between the two felt right.

The Firebird is a sequel to Sophia’s Secret (or The Winter Sea depending on which country you’re in) and the character of Rob has also appeared in another Kearsley book, The Shadowy Horses. I haven’t read either of those two books yet, though that didn’t seem to be a problem as we are given all the background information we need early in the novel. I’m still looking forward to going back and reading them both, even if I’ve done things in the wrong order!

She reads poetry…Lyrical Ballads 1798 and 1802

Lyrical Ballads 1798 - 1802

It is an ancyent Marinere,
And he stoppeth one of three:
“By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye
Now wherefore stoppest me?”

I’m not someone who reads a lot of poetry but that’s something I would like to change, so I was pleased to have the opportunity to try this new Oxford World’s Classics edition of Lyrical Ballads, a collaboration by William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, first published in 1798. This book contains both the original 1798 version and the revised, expanded one from 1802, together with their prefaces and appendices. There’s also an extensive introduction, chronology and notes, though I didn’t personally find the notes particularly helpful – and they were sometimes a distraction when I would have preferred to just concentrate on reading the poem.

From the point of view of a casual reader of poetry I don’t think it was really necessary to have both the 1798 and 1802 versions together in one book. I would have been happy with just the second one, as it seems to include all the poems from the first edition (though in a slightly different order) as well as a large number of new poems. For students of Romantic poetry, though, it will probably be useful to be able to compare the earlier edition with the later one and see how each was originally presented (any significant changes to wording etc are mentioned in the notes).

The only poem in this collection that I was already familiar with was The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge. It’s here in two different versions; in the 1802 one the language has been ‘modernised’, replacing some of the archaic spellings used in the original. I’ve liked this poem since the first time I read it at school and it really stands out among the other poems in the book as something special and unique. There are only a few other poems by Coleridge in Lyrical Ballads and the overwhelming majority are by Wordsworth; the most famous of Wordsworth’s is probably Lines written a few miles above Tintern Abbey. I’ve never thought Wordsworth would be a poet that I would like, but there are quite a few of his poems here that I enjoyed, including Goody Blake and Harry Gill, We Are Seven and The Thorn, all of which appear in both volumes, and in the 1802 collection I also liked his anti-hunting poem, Hart-Leap Well.

Whether or not you like William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, it can’t be denied that their Lyrical Ballads was an important work with an influence on both the Romantic Movement and the development of poetry in general. While there were only a few poems in this book that I thought had any real brilliance, I did enjoy reading most of them and found them all easy enough to read even for someone like myself who isn’t really a fan of poetry. The idea behind Lyrical Ballads was to make poetry accessible to the average person by using simple language that could be understood by everyone, so in this respect I think it was a success.

As this Oxford World’s Classics edition is quite academic it would probably be a good choice for students of Romanticism but I think for the general reader like myself it might be better to look for a collection of the most popular works of Wordsworth or Coleridge.

Hungry Hill by Daphne du Maurier

“I have cursed your father tonight, and your brother, and now I curse you, John Brodrick,” he cried, “and not only you, but your sons after you, and your grandsons, and may your wealth bring them nothing but despair and desolation and evil, until the last of them stands humble and ashamed amongst the ruins of it, with the Donovans back again in Clonmere on the land that belongs to them.”

Hungry Hill Hungry Hill is the story of five generations of the Brodricks, a family of rich landowners who live at Clonmere Castle in Ireland. It begins in 1820 when ‘Copper John’ Brodrick decides to open a copper mine on Hungry Hill, land which once belonged to the Donovan family, who have been feuding with the Brodricks for many years. As soon as Morty Donovan hears about the new mine he becomes determined to destroy it and places a curse on Copper John and his descendants.

Hungry Hill, as you can probably tell from the brief summary I’ve given, is a very dark and depressing novel. Its pages are filled with deaths, accidents, illnesses and every sort of bad luck you could imagine. As we move down through the generations we meet characters such as the lazy, irresponsible ‘Greyhound John’, wild and beautiful Fanny-Rosa Flower and spoiled, selfish Johnnie, and we watch as they suffer one tragedy after another, sometimes not entirely undeserved.

It’s not unusual for a du Maurier book to be dark and depressing, but this one is particularly relentless in its portrayal of utter misery, unhappiness and despair. It’s true that most of the characters are very flawed and often bring their misfortunes on themselves (I disliked a few of them so much I wasn’t sorry at all when they came to an unpleasant end!) but it was still frustrating and painful to see them making such huge mistakes. There are also some good, decent people who become caught up in the Brodricks’ web of disaster and it’s very sad to see them suffering too.

Although this is historical fiction, the story has that strangely timeless feel that so many of du Maurier’s books have. We know that it’s the nineteenth century (dates are given in the section headings) but the historical events of the time don’t play any significant part in the novel; the potato famine, the Crimean War and other important events are barely mentioned or alluded to at all. Similarly, although it’s not difficult to work out that the book is set in Ireland, I don’t think the name ‘Ireland’ is ever specifically used – there are just vague references to ‘this country’ or ‘over the water’. This story of a cursed family could almost have been set in any time and any place. And maybe that is the point, because the themes of the novel are universal: coping with the loss of a parent or a spouse, addictions to gambling or alcohol, unemployment and poverty, and whether we have the right to spoil natural beauty in the name of progress.

This is not one of my favourite du Maurier novels and I can’t imagine that I would want to read it again – once was enough for me – but I still enjoyed it (if enjoyed is the right word for such a bleak and unhappy story). I would recommend it not just to du Maurier fans but also to anyone looking for a good, well written family saga similar to Susan Howatch’s Penmarric or Cashelmara.

Bellman & Black by Diane Setterfield

Bellman and Black William Bellman is ten years old when he hits a rook with his catapult and kills it. He and his friends had expected the bird to fly away before the stone hit it and are surprised to see it die. Just a small incident and William quickly moves on with his life, but as he grows older it seems that this brief moment of cruelty was much more significant than it seemed at the time.

William joins the family mill and through hard work and dedication he begins to rise in the world. As a rich, successful businessman with a wife and children he loves, life is perfect – but not for long. Soon, a series of tragic deaths start to destroy William’s happiness and he finds himself entering into partnership with a mysterious stranger dressed in black…

I found plenty of things to like about Bellman & Black but compared to Diane Setterfield’s first book, The Thirteenth Tale, it was disappointing. Although I didn’t love The Thirteenth Tale the way a lot of other readers did and consequently my expectations for this one weren’t too high, I definitely found her first book much more enjoyable than the second. Bellman & Black is packed with great, original ideas but I don’t think she was quite as successful at bringing all of these ideas together to form a satisfying story as she was with The Thirteenth Tale.

I think part of my problem with this book may have been that I just didn’t like William and felt somehow detached from him, so that even when he was going through times of tragedy and disaster I didn’t really care. And being able to care about William would have been a big advantage in a book where William was the only character who felt fully developed. Other characters come and go without the reader having a chance to get to know them properly; I thought William’s daughter, Dora, had potential but her character was never fleshed out enough for me to be able to warm to her.

Anyway, let’s move on to the things that I loved in Bellman & Black. Diane Setterfield has chosen to write about some fascinating aspects of Victorian culture and society! The first half of the book revolves around the running of a mill and we have the chance to learn about all the different areas of the textile industry, from the processes of producing and dyeing cloth to the benefits Bellman introduces to improve the welfare of his workers. In the second half of the book we explore the mourning business and the emporium William establishes in London as part of his deal with Mr Black (I kept being reminded here of Zola’s The Ladies’ Paradise).

Interspersed with William’s story are some shorter passages which discuss rooks and ravens – their appearance and behaviour, their roles in history and mythology, and every other aspect of rooks and ravens that you could possibly imagine. I’m not sure if these sections really added anything to the plot, but I liked the concept and enjoyed reading them.

Bellman & Black is described as a ghost story, though despite the Gothic touches and the foreboding atmosphere, I don’t really think I would agree with that description. William Bellman is certainly haunted, but it’s more of a psychological haunting than a physical one, so if you’re looking for a traditional ghost story you won’t find one here. This is the sort of book that will make you think and look below the surface for hidden meanings – and when you reach the final page you’ll be left to draw your own conclusions from what you’ve read.

I received a copy of this book for review via Netgalley.