Miss Read was recommended to me years ago by a friend and I found this novel quite surprising.
As I began it, I thought, this is a rather twee but very well-written novel of village life. Easy to read but not exactly my cup of tea. I was quite surprised to arrive at the end and discover that it's really a book with a very feminist perspective. I feel a little abashed - I was so effectively fooled until the very end.
The Bensons, a retired couple, acquire Holly Lodge and build an in-law apartment for Mrs. Benson's elderly mother. Sadly, in a matter of months, Mrs. Benson loses first her husband and then her mother. She decides to rent the in-law apartment, and after a suggestion from a friend, rents it to Miss Quinn, personal private secretary to somebody named Barney.
The village is all a-twitter at the arrival of a new inhabitant, and first the vicar, and then others, imagine unmarried Miss Quinn is exactly the person they need to serve their various charitable endeavours:
'"But what about that nice Miriam Quinn?" he asked of his friend. "We met her the other night at Joan Benson's."
"But she must be very busy with her job," protested the vicar.
"She's home by about six. Why not ask her if she would like the job? She might be glad to meet people."
The same kindly thought had occurred to other people in Fairacre, particularly those on committees needing secretaries, treasurers, and that vague amorphous quality called "new blood." Here was a clever woman, obligingly free of family ties, in good health and possibly lonely, who could prove a godsend to the various organizations in need of help.
Henry Mawne was the first to approach Miriam on behalf of the short-staffed Church Fabric Committee. She welcomed him to her shining house, gave him sherry, sparkled at his jokes, and declined the invitation in the most charming manner. Henry retired, hardly realizing that he had been defeated.
The Brownies needed a Brown Owl, the Cubs an Akela. The Women's Institute needed a bookkeeper, as the last one still worked in shillings and pence, and in any case had lost the account book. The Over-Sixties Club could do with a speaker on any subject at any time suitable to Miss Quinn.
The Naturalists' Association, the Youth Club, the Play Group, the Welfare Clinic, St. Patrick's Choir, and the Sunday School were anxious to have Miss Quinn's presence and support, and Miriam soon realized, with amusement and resignation, that much more hummed beneath Fairacre's serene face than she had imagined.
Her tact, her charm, and her intelligence, baked by her formidable resolve to keep her life exactly as she wanted it, enabled her to stay clear of any of these entanglements.
Baffled, and slightly hurt, the villagers retired worsted.
Mrs. Pringle summed up the general feeling about the newcomer.
"No flies on Miss Quinn! She knows her own value, that one, but she ain't for sale!"
I find that there are many things to like about this book. It's short: 148 pages. It's funny. It has illustrations. And there are no flies on Miss Quinn!
I actually think this book would make an excellent Christmas present: light-hearted and easy to read. And while the library copy I read was printed in 1976, Miss Read's books are available in paperback. There seem to be several with a Christmas theme. There's one called "Mrs. Pringle of Fairacre," and now that I know a little about Mrs. Pringle's probity and vocabulary, I'm truly interested in reading a little more about her.
I thought "Miss Read" was a very odd name for an author; the only authorial name I can think of that is at all similar is Mrs. Gaskell. So I looked up Miss Read on Wikipedia and learned that her true identity was Dora Jessie Saint, and that "Saint's novels are wry regional social comedies, laced with gentle humour and subtle social commentary. Saint was also a keen observer of nature and the changing seasons."
As I began it, I thought, this is a rather twee but very well-written novel of village life. Easy to read but not exactly my cup of tea. I was quite surprised to arrive at the end and discover that it's really a book with a very feminist perspective. I feel a little abashed - I was so effectively fooled until the very end.
The Bensons, a retired couple, acquire Holly Lodge and build an in-law apartment for Mrs. Benson's elderly mother. Sadly, in a matter of months, Mrs. Benson loses first her husband and then her mother. She decides to rent the in-law apartment, and after a suggestion from a friend, rents it to Miss Quinn, personal private secretary to somebody named Barney.
The village is all a-twitter at the arrival of a new inhabitant, and first the vicar, and then others, imagine unmarried Miss Quinn is exactly the person they need to serve their various charitable endeavours:
'"But what about that nice Miriam Quinn?" he asked of his friend. "We met her the other night at Joan Benson's."
"But she must be very busy with her job," protested the vicar.
"She's home by about six. Why not ask her if she would like the job? She might be glad to meet people."
The same kindly thought had occurred to other people in Fairacre, particularly those on committees needing secretaries, treasurers, and that vague amorphous quality called "new blood." Here was a clever woman, obligingly free of family ties, in good health and possibly lonely, who could prove a godsend to the various organizations in need of help.
Henry Mawne was the first to approach Miriam on behalf of the short-staffed Church Fabric Committee. She welcomed him to her shining house, gave him sherry, sparkled at his jokes, and declined the invitation in the most charming manner. Henry retired, hardly realizing that he had been defeated.
The Brownies needed a Brown Owl, the Cubs an Akela. The Women's Institute needed a bookkeeper, as the last one still worked in shillings and pence, and in any case had lost the account book. The Over-Sixties Club could do with a speaker on any subject at any time suitable to Miss Quinn.
The Naturalists' Association, the Youth Club, the Play Group, the Welfare Clinic, St. Patrick's Choir, and the Sunday School were anxious to have Miss Quinn's presence and support, and Miriam soon realized, with amusement and resignation, that much more hummed beneath Fairacre's serene face than she had imagined.
Her tact, her charm, and her intelligence, baked by her formidable resolve to keep her life exactly as she wanted it, enabled her to stay clear of any of these entanglements.
Baffled, and slightly hurt, the villagers retired worsted.
Mrs. Pringle summed up the general feeling about the newcomer.
"No flies on Miss Quinn! She knows her own value, that one, but she ain't for sale!"
I find that there are many things to like about this book. It's short: 148 pages. It's funny. It has illustrations. And there are no flies on Miss Quinn!
I actually think this book would make an excellent Christmas present: light-hearted and easy to read. And while the library copy I read was printed in 1976, Miss Read's books are available in paperback. There seem to be several with a Christmas theme. There's one called "Mrs. Pringle of Fairacre," and now that I know a little about Mrs. Pringle's probity and vocabulary, I'm truly interested in reading a little more about her.
I thought "Miss Read" was a very odd name for an author; the only authorial name I can think of that is at all similar is Mrs. Gaskell. So I looked up Miss Read on Wikipedia and learned that her true identity was Dora Jessie Saint, and that "Saint's novels are wry regional social comedies, laced with gentle humour and subtle social commentary. Saint was also a keen observer of nature and the changing seasons."
