This is a very entertaining book, and I would certainly recommend it for any fan of Churchill or of history. Millard was recommended to me as someone who wrote history in a very accessible way, and I certainly agree. Her prose is lively, and she shapes her narrative for its maximum entertainment value. And the story of Churchill's escape from a prisoner of war camp was a ripping good yarn.
Sunday, April 30, 2017
A Coffin for Demetrios by Eric Ambler
While I was doing informal research about Alan Furst on the Internet, after I'd read Hero of France, I came across an interview somewhere in which Furst reported, if I remember correctly, that he'd started his first novel after finishing A Coffin for Demetrios. I think I remember Frederick Pohl mentioning Ambler's novel in his book about espionage novels. I checked it out from my local library, finished it a few days ago, and must say that I really enjoyed it.
I thought that Ambler's prose was sometimes a little florid, and I found myself having an expectation that his exposition would be concise and his prose plain. Neither was true, and I found that I really enjoyed his prose.
Of course, I felt at sea reading this novel set in about 1925. The novel opens with a writer meeting a government official at a party in Istanbul. It turns out that the Turkish government official, Colonel Haki, is a great fan of police procedurals although, he points out, they bear very little relation to reality.
Latimer, the writer, is facing a deadline from his publisher. He's feeling uninspired, and an experience he has while visiting Colonel Haki intrigues him, and he's soon tempted away from his work by the project of acting as a detective himself, and uncovering the criminal career of a man who seemed to be notoriously amoral among the few who knew of him.
When Latimer first encounters a man whom he later learns is an associate of Demetrios, I found myself feeling, "This is the fifth or so really bizarre character that Latimer has met in the course of this novel." I felt Latimer was entirely too accepting of the company of these strange people. But, of course, these strange characters make the story.
I thought that Ambler's prose was sometimes a little florid, and I found myself having an expectation that his exposition would be concise and his prose plain. Neither was true, and I found that I really enjoyed his prose.
Of course, I felt at sea reading this novel set in about 1925. The novel opens with a writer meeting a government official at a party in Istanbul. It turns out that the Turkish government official, Colonel Haki, is a great fan of police procedurals although, he points out, they bear very little relation to reality.
Latimer, the writer, is facing a deadline from his publisher. He's feeling uninspired, and an experience he has while visiting Colonel Haki intrigues him, and he's soon tempted away from his work by the project of acting as a detective himself, and uncovering the criminal career of a man who seemed to be notoriously amoral among the few who knew of him.
When Latimer first encounters a man whom he later learns is an associate of Demetrios, I found myself feeling, "This is the fifth or so really bizarre character that Latimer has met in the course of this novel." I felt Latimer was entirely too accepting of the company of these strange people. But, of course, these strange characters make the story.
Wednesday, April 26, 2017
Regeneration by Pat Barker
Regeneration is a tough novel to sum up. It's historical fiction: an imagining of the relationship of some real people, Dr. Williams Rivers, and his shell-shock patients at the Craiglockhart Hospital, renowned war poets Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen.
Author Pat Barker wrote this novel after she realized that her work had been pigeon-holed as women's fiction.
I find the inclusion of real people among the characters engaging. Barker did a lot of research, and I find myself imagining that this gave her the freedom to imagine her characters while grounding them reality, giving her work authenticity.
Underneath it all, Barker conveys something tough-minded and honest, and I think that is part of the appeal of the novel to me. Another aspect that I think interests me is the sense that this moment in time is a turning-point, a switch, or a change, from one culture to another, although in reality, contradictory cultural currents exist side by side.
A review I found somewhere emphasized the character of Billy Prior. Prior is not a historical person, and he is perhaps the least sympathetic of Rivers' patients in the book. As this essay asserted, Prior is an officer who is working-class, and has earned his rank through merit, and his attitude is one of fairly obvious scorn and disdain for the upper-class young men with whom he shares his rank.
Prior starts dating a girl in town during the course of the novel. At times, he feels anger toward her, and this may be simply a reflection of a soldier's contempt for civilians, or something darker. I felt I could never quite get a fix on his feelings for her. My difficulty understanding Prior, or fixing his identity, was the thing that troubled me the most about this novel. I wonder if the difficulty I had "fixing him," or pinpointing his identity, reflects his crossing class lines and his discomfort in the place where he has arrived.
I'd read this novel years ago, perhaps 15 or 20 - I can't remember exactly. As I read it again, I found myself feeling as if I were reading it for the first time. I loved the novel when I read it before, and I struggled to try to recapture the feeling that I had then. After turning over the elements of the novel in my mind, I suspect now that what moved me so greatly was Rivers' character, his kindness and his openness.
It was interesting to read Regeneration right after Longbourn, because the appearance of class in the former novel somehow made me feel more keenly the element of class in Longbourn.
7/29/17 Today I read an interesting personal essay about how reading Regeneration influenced one student's feeling about her own disability. I found it interesting. Here's a link: http://bit.ly/2vGrrTL
Author Pat Barker wrote this novel after she realized that her work had been pigeon-holed as women's fiction.
I find the inclusion of real people among the characters engaging. Barker did a lot of research, and I find myself imagining that this gave her the freedom to imagine her characters while grounding them reality, giving her work authenticity.
Underneath it all, Barker conveys something tough-minded and honest, and I think that is part of the appeal of the novel to me. Another aspect that I think interests me is the sense that this moment in time is a turning-point, a switch, or a change, from one culture to another, although in reality, contradictory cultural currents exist side by side.
A review I found somewhere emphasized the character of Billy Prior. Prior is not a historical person, and he is perhaps the least sympathetic of Rivers' patients in the book. As this essay asserted, Prior is an officer who is working-class, and has earned his rank through merit, and his attitude is one of fairly obvious scorn and disdain for the upper-class young men with whom he shares his rank.
Prior starts dating a girl in town during the course of the novel. At times, he feels anger toward her, and this may be simply a reflection of a soldier's contempt for civilians, or something darker. I felt I could never quite get a fix on his feelings for her. My difficulty understanding Prior, or fixing his identity, was the thing that troubled me the most about this novel. I wonder if the difficulty I had "fixing him," or pinpointing his identity, reflects his crossing class lines and his discomfort in the place where he has arrived.
I'd read this novel years ago, perhaps 15 or 20 - I can't remember exactly. As I read it again, I found myself feeling as if I were reading it for the first time. I loved the novel when I read it before, and I struggled to try to recapture the feeling that I had then. After turning over the elements of the novel in my mind, I suspect now that what moved me so greatly was Rivers' character, his kindness and his openness.
It was interesting to read Regeneration right after Longbourn, because the appearance of class in the former novel somehow made me feel more keenly the element of class in Longbourn.
7/29/17 Today I read an interesting personal essay about how reading Regeneration influenced one student's feeling about her own disability. I found it interesting. Here's a link: http://bit.ly/2vGrrTL
Monday, April 3, 2017
Longbourn by Jo Baker
Longbourn is an historical fiction novel about the servants' lives at Longbourn, the home of the Bennet family in Pride and Prejudice.
The Longbourn house is too grand to be without servants but not nearly grand enough for there to be much of an hierarchy. Mr. and Mrs. Hill are assisted by two young girls that came to them from the local workhouse to help with the massive amount of laundry generated by the five Bennet sisters; both serving girls are orphans. Although none of the servants are related to each other, they make up a kind of chosen family. Sarah, for instance, as deeply exhausted as she is, allows Polly, the younger girl, to slack off early recognizing her need to play. Mrs. Hill becomes concerned when Jane, Lizzie and Lydia marry, knowing that there will no longer be enough work for Sarah and Polly.
Sarah is older, and perhaps a little more interesting because, as Baker tells us, Sarah has memories of her life with her parents, weavers, before they died.
While the world of the novel seems to make clear that there is nothing for Sarah and Polly than a life of service, both are readers, lent books by the Bennets. Nevertheless, Polly eventually becomes the village teacher.
A stranger arrives to work as a footman, and his arrival perplexes Sarah greatly. She alternately hates him and confesses to herself that she is attracted to him. He, for his part, becomes gradually attached to her until he suddenly realizes that he loves her. I saw this as the chief way that Longbourn mirrored Pride and Prejudice.
Another way, though perhaps less obviously, Longbourn mirrors Pride and Prejudice is the concern of Longbourn with class. One example is Wickham himself; here is portrayed as "neither fish nor fowl," a man whose varied background has left him able to charm the Bennet sisters while he remains more comfortable visiting the Bennet servants. Pride and Prejudice implies that Wickham is a sexual predator; Longbourn makes this explicit.
Longbourn is gritty, lingering on Sarah's chilblains, on the long hours worked by the servants.
The characters are well-rounded and feel like real people.
Baker's novel feels deeply authentic, in part because the characters behave in a way that seems to reflect the restrictions of the period. One note that I found jarring is when Mrs. Hill talks to Lizzie about Lizzie's engagement to Darcy; Mrs. Hill thinks to herself that she understood that Lizzie had made "a spectacular deal." That language seemed a little too modern for me, although it's certainly true. I like best historical fiction that feels authentic and seems to convey the concerns of the period rather than our own concerns. Longbourn is very good in this respect, and some of my favorite historical fiction ever.
The things that I liked best about Longbourn were:
1. The "downstairs" story mirrored the upstairs story, with a romance that included a "true" and a "false" suitor;
2. Sarah, the protagonist, was a complicated, sympathetic and interesting person;
3. Wickham, Lydia and Mrs. Bennet all make an appearance, and their character here is entirely consistent with the same in Pride and Prejudice, while elaborated.
4. Baker's prose is very beautiful. She uses metaphor for economy in her description is a way that's quite poetic.
5. The novel is full of historical details that I imagine Baker carefully researched.
The Longbourn house is too grand to be without servants but not nearly grand enough for there to be much of an hierarchy. Mr. and Mrs. Hill are assisted by two young girls that came to them from the local workhouse to help with the massive amount of laundry generated by the five Bennet sisters; both serving girls are orphans. Although none of the servants are related to each other, they make up a kind of chosen family. Sarah, for instance, as deeply exhausted as she is, allows Polly, the younger girl, to slack off early recognizing her need to play. Mrs. Hill becomes concerned when Jane, Lizzie and Lydia marry, knowing that there will no longer be enough work for Sarah and Polly.
Sarah is older, and perhaps a little more interesting because, as Baker tells us, Sarah has memories of her life with her parents, weavers, before they died.
While the world of the novel seems to make clear that there is nothing for Sarah and Polly than a life of service, both are readers, lent books by the Bennets. Nevertheless, Polly eventually becomes the village teacher.
A stranger arrives to work as a footman, and his arrival perplexes Sarah greatly. She alternately hates him and confesses to herself that she is attracted to him. He, for his part, becomes gradually attached to her until he suddenly realizes that he loves her. I saw this as the chief way that Longbourn mirrored Pride and Prejudice.
Another way, though perhaps less obviously, Longbourn mirrors Pride and Prejudice is the concern of Longbourn with class. One example is Wickham himself; here is portrayed as "neither fish nor fowl," a man whose varied background has left him able to charm the Bennet sisters while he remains more comfortable visiting the Bennet servants. Pride and Prejudice implies that Wickham is a sexual predator; Longbourn makes this explicit.
Longbourn is gritty, lingering on Sarah's chilblains, on the long hours worked by the servants.
The characters are well-rounded and feel like real people.
Baker's novel feels deeply authentic, in part because the characters behave in a way that seems to reflect the restrictions of the period. One note that I found jarring is when Mrs. Hill talks to Lizzie about Lizzie's engagement to Darcy; Mrs. Hill thinks to herself that she understood that Lizzie had made "a spectacular deal." That language seemed a little too modern for me, although it's certainly true. I like best historical fiction that feels authentic and seems to convey the concerns of the period rather than our own concerns. Longbourn is very good in this respect, and some of my favorite historical fiction ever.
The things that I liked best about Longbourn were:
1. The "downstairs" story mirrored the upstairs story, with a romance that included a "true" and a "false" suitor;
2. Sarah, the protagonist, was a complicated, sympathetic and interesting person;
3. Wickham, Lydia and Mrs. Bennet all make an appearance, and their character here is entirely consistent with the same in Pride and Prejudice, while elaborated.
4. Baker's prose is very beautiful. She uses metaphor for economy in her description is a way that's quite poetic.
5. The novel is full of historical details that I imagine Baker carefully researched.
The Lewis Man by Peter May
Peter May, a television writer, has written a series of mystery novels set in Scotland. The Lewis Man is full of sharp observations of nature written in lyrical prose. Good choice for fans of police procedurals who do not mind some poetical writing. Loved it; recommend it.
This book is a good choice for folks who enjoy mysteries where the setting is strongly described, present, and/or influences the action.
This book is a good choice for folks who enjoy mysteries where the setting is strongly described, present, and/or influences the action.
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