Review: Death of a Red Heroine, by Qiu Xiaolong

Pages: 464

Original date of publication: 2000

My edition: 2000 (Soho Crime)

Why I decided to read: I needed an X author for the A to Z Challenge

How I acquired my copy: Amazon, January 2011

On May 11, 1990, the body of a well-known national model worker is found in an out-of-the-way canal in Shanghai. Chief Inspector Chen Cao (a poet and translator in addition to being a detective) is called in to investigate. At first it looks as though this isn’t a politically-motivated crime, but the case soon leads Chen and his partner, Yu, to suspect a well-known photographer and son of one of the old high-powered cadres.

Death of a Red Heroine is a little bit outside the realm of mysteries I normally read. I’m unfamiliar with the setting (1990 China), so the fact that the author intersperses bits of 20^th century Chinese history into the story was a great help to me. I liked how the author managed to interweave history with fiction to create believable characters with believable motives, highlighting the fact that Chen is a victim of Party politics himself. I also liked how poetry is sprinkled into the story, but sometimes I felt as though it was a bit too much and added very little to the plot of the novel—except to prove how well-read in Chinese and English literature everyone in the novel seems to be.

However, Chen’s interest in English and American literature makes him a standout among other fictional detectives, a three-dimensional character with interests outside of his work. Also interesting is his personal life—his relationship with an old girlfriend from the past (sadly not well-developed) and his budding relationship with a young reporter.

As a mystery, however, the book suffers from freshman syndrome. The plot is a little bit predictable, but I enjoyed how the story was wrapped up in the end. This is a solid, enjoyable mystery, and I’m looking forward to seeing more character development in the other books in the series.

Teaser Tuesdays

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme. Anyone can play along. Just do the following:

--Grab your current read

--Open to a random page

--share two “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page

Be sure NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (Make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)

--Share the title and author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR lists if they like your teasers!

“I had not intended to love him: the reader knows I had wrought hard to extirpate from my soul the germs of love there detected; and now, at the first renewed vision of him, they spontaneously revived, green and strong! He made me love him without looking at me.”

--From Jane Eyre (a new reading of an old favorite)

The Sunday Salon

In some ways, I always feel sad about Sundays. I always feel as though something good has come to an end! It’s been a busy couple of weeks here, with a good friend from college coming to visit last weekend, up from Virginia. We explored some parts of Philly, including the Independence Seaport Museum at Penn’s Landing (which is literally a stone’s throw away from my apartment). The best parts of the museum are the cruiser Olympia and the submarine Becuna. The museum is one of the lesser-known attractions of Philadelphia, but I thought it was pretty interesting (and I’m not really into maritime history!). Sadly, my friend had a personal emergency and had to go back home, but it was good to play catch-up again after four years of not seeing each other.

This weekend has been pretty much one long veg-out session; I’ve been watching a marathon on DVD of Downton Abbey, an Upstairs Downstairs-esque Masterpiece Theatre series about one family and its servants in a large country estate in 1912 (it opens with the sinking of the Titanic, on which the heir to the estate has perished). Like Upstairs Downstairs, it’s a lot like a soap opera, but absolutely riveting. Maggie Smith plays a dowager countess with a very sharp tongue.

Recently I’ve been obsessing over something I can’t control, and so the best thing for me in those moments is to throw myself into work, which is what I have been doing. It’s worked for the most part, but as soon as I’m not busy, I start obsessing again! I don’t talk much about my personal or work life here, but certain things have been slightly difficult for me recently, and I’ve been searching for things to take my mind off all that. What hasn’t helped is that I recently finished reading a novel called Alas, Poor Lady (Rachel Ferguson), the desperately sad story of a late-Victorian spinster and what happens to her—not the best reading choice in my current mood! But I think re-reading an old favorite has compensated for it.

Yesterday I began re-reading Jane Eyre; the last time I did so was at least in high school! I keep forgetting how good it is! My mom and I are planning on going to see the new film adaptation at the Ritz tomorrow night, so I thought a re-read was very much in order. It’s amazing how a book like that is still highly readable, 170 years after it was published. And, I think, deep down every woman dreams of having that ‘Reader, I married him” moment herself!

I went to Borders during my lunch break on Thursday to use up the rest of a gift card, and bought the movie tie-in version of Jane Eyre (one can never own too many copies! In my 650-square-foot apartment alone there are six. Obsessed, much?). I normally despise movie tie-ins with a passion unrivaled, but I actually like the cover of this one. While I was at Borders, I was saddened by all the “everything must go” signs behind the counter…

Review: Hester, by Margaret Oliphant

Pages: 490

Original date of publication: 1883

My edition: 1985 (Virago)

Why I decided to read: found this while searching for VMCs on Ebay

How I acquired my copy: Ebay, October 2010

Mrs. Oliphant is an author who was enormously popular when her novels were first published but who is nearly forgotten nowadays. She is maybe better-known for her Chronicles of Carlingford series (of which Miss Marjoribanks is one), but Hester is also a very fine novel.

The story centers firstly around Catherine Vernon, a kind of matriarch and queen in Redborough. She is the head of Vernon’s Bank, and it was through her intervention that a run on the bank was prevented in her younger days. The bulk of the story, however, takes place many years later, when Catherine is in her sixties, with her cousin/nephew Edward Vernon playing William Cecil to her Elizabeth I. Catherine’s life is shaken when her fourteen-year-old relative, Hester, and her mother move to “the Vernonry” after a period away. A lot of the novel deals with Hester’s growth from girl to woman, and the men who express interest in her along the way.

Hester has a variety of suitors vying for her hand (he cousin Harry, Edward, and the stranger in town, Roland Ashton), which is intriguing, but what I enjoyed the most was the interplay between the two main characters. I was interested in the contrasts that exist between them: one young, one old, both locked in an antagonistic struggle with each other. There’s also a fair amount of antagonism between Hester and Edward Vernon (bringing to mind comparisons with Pride and Prejudice). Is he in love with her or not? It’s fairly obvious from the start that he’s not (someone who’s into you generally doesn’t start fights with you or ignore you completely), so it’s fun to watch Hester figure that out for herself. The plot of the novel drags a bit in the middle, and as such, I thought the book could have been at least 100 pages shorter. But nonetheless, I really enjoyed this novel.

Teaser Tuesdays

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

--Grab your current read

--Open to a random page

--share two “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page

Be sure NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (Make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)

--Share the title and author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR lists if they like your teasers!

“I could feel hatred, like a tide, rise up from a hundred throats about me, and those who had been peaceable before were now infected. A woman and her husband who five minutes earlier had been walking casually towards the Abbey, even as I had done with my nephews, were now shouting in anger, their arms raised above their heads, their faces distorted.”

--From The Glass Blowers, by Daphne Du Maurier

Review: Few Eggs and No Oranges: the Diaries of Vere Hodgson 1940-45

Pages: 590

Original date of publication: 1976

My edition: 2010 (Persephone)

Why I decided to read: read this for Persephone Reading Weekend

How I acquired my copy: Persephone mail-order, January 2011

Few Eggs and No Oranges is the diary that Vere Hodgson kept during the war years. The diary reprinted here covers the “official” start of the war on June 25, 1940, and takes us up through VE Day, May 1945.

The subtitle is “A diary showing how unimportant people in London and Birmingham lived through the war years 1940-45, written in the Notting Hill area of London,” and that’s a pretty good summary of what this book is about. Vere Hodgson lets very little of her own personal feelings in (aside from her obvious hero-worship of Churchill), but she gives detailed updates about what’s going on politically. We get very little sense of the people she spends her days with, and very little about Vere’s personality, either. And yet, this book is a fascinating read, mostly because it follows her every day doings, even as extraordinary things were going on around her. And what I also liked was that Vere Hodgson is so unfailingly honest. And she’s always so positive, even in the darkest days of the Blitz.

As I read, however, I found Vere Hodgson to be a contradictory person. At times, she’s delightfully childish about fruit, one of the hardest things to acquire during wartime in London (and all the more dear when they did become available). On the other hand, she’s remarkably astute about the goings-on in the world and at home. This is a paragraph that really struck me as poignant as I read:

[Sunday 11^th May 1941] Just heard the terrible news that Westminster Hall was hit last night. Also the Abbey and the Houses of Parliament. They saved the roof to a large extent. In the Abbey it was the Lantern. At first they thought Big Ben had crashed! One cannot comment on such things. I feel we must have sinned grievously as a nation to have such sacrifices demanded of us. Indeed future generations will say we have not taken care of what was handed down to us. We should have been more careful to defend it. We must pay the price now; but it is terrible to think of the wasted years, when, sunk in enjoyment, we did not realize that the days of all we looked on s precious were numbered—that our rulers and ourselves had lost their way in a mist of false high thinking, and common sense had gone.

I think it’s amazing how people during the war adapted so quickly, making do with what was available. But on the other hand, it seems as though Londoners were, in an odd way, better off than many! I think it’s interesting about the bombing aspect; because London was so large, you could only see or hear the bombs that were falling in your area!

This is Persephone No. 9. Endpaper below.

Teaser Tuesdays

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

--Grab your current read

--Open to a random page

--share two “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page

Be sure NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (Make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)

--Share the title and author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR lists if they like your teasers!

“The discussion rambled on while the plates were changed and the entrees—buttered lobster and chaud-froid of pigeon—were served. With them came salads, served on a crescent dish that fitted to the side of the plate.”

--From The Outcast, by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles

Review: A Very Great Profession, by Nicola Beauman

Pages: 398

Original date of publication: 1983

My edition: 2008 (Persephone)

Why I decided to read: I was in the mood for some nonfiction during Persephone Reading Week

How I acquired my copy: Persephone mail-order, January 2011

Originally published by Virago in 1983, A Very Great Profession: The Woman’s Novel 1914-1939 is a fantastic overview of the woman’s novel in the interwar years (interesting that “woman” is in the singular, not plural, here). The book is divided not chronologically but by theme, covering such diverse topics as War, Spinsters (ie, Surplus Women), Love, and Sex. Beauman draws from some of the popular middlebrow women writers of the period, many of whom were later revived by Persephone and Virago. These are the writers that the average woman of the period would have borrowed from Mudie’s or Boots, and the authors of these books dealt with their topics in a way that were accessible to their readers.

This is a well-researched and perceptive overview of women writers and their novels between the years of 1914 and 1939, with an afterword by Beauman that was written in 1995 in which she mentions what she might have done differently in the book. The book highlight a number of women writers that many people today haven’t heard of, yet were widely read when their novels were published. It’s interesting to read about how Beauman wrote the book; she only wrote about the books she truly enjoyed, which was reflected much later when she started Persephone. It’s amazing how many of these novels are out of print or hard to find; when Beauman was researching this book, she had to use her resources in order to track them down (no internet at the time, and she couldn’t get into the British Museum reading room because she shad small children!) Also interesting how, until Persephone reprinted William, by Cicely Hamilton, there was only one copy of it available that she could find). As the author says, “nearly everyone has a cherished list of novels that have never been reprinted and they ‘can’t understand why.’” Beauman’s list, predictably, includes many novelists that she was later to revive with Persephone.

This is the kind of book that complements perfectly the other books on the Persephone list, and those reprinted by Virago. I was interested in what Beauman has to say specifically about the books themselves; but equally interesting is what she has to say about women’s lives in general during this time period. I think she assumes that her reader is familiar with the history of the period, but since I am, that personally didn’t bother me. The book isn’t particularly academic, though. I can’t wait to track down some of the books that Beaumen mentions in this book, since they all sound so good.

This is Persephone No. 78. Virago Modern Classics cover (which is also the Persephone bookmark that accompanies the book) above.

Review: Sisters By a River, by Barbara Comyns

Pages: 151

Original date of publication: 1947

My edition: 2000

Why I decided to read: Ebay

How I acquired my copy: Found it on Ebay, January 2011

Sisters by a River is an odd little book. Based closely on the author’s childhood, the book is told from a child’s point of view (although references are made later in the book to the main character’s teenage years), complete with erratic spelling and punctuation, and run-on sentences. This way of telling the story is unique and charming, though I could see why it might get tiring after a while (probably the reason why this novel is only about 150 pages long).

Understanding Barbara Comyns’s childhood is the key to understanding the context of this book. According to the preface of the Virago Modern Classics edition, she was the fourth of six children, having a childhood that was “both an idyll and a nightmare” (some of this is reflected in Sisters By a River, albeit told from a child’s skewed perspective). Comyns’s father drank heavily, and there’s a family legend that her father told her mother that he would marry her as soon as she was old enough to bake a cake (this anecdote makes its way into Sisters By a River).

The story that Comyns tells in Sisters By a River is both tragic and happy; tragic because of what happens to the narrator’s parents, happy because, as a child, the narrator can’t quite understand what’s going on (though, from a distance of time, she can). I enjoyed this book for the most part, but the tone of voice confused me a bit; the author used the diction and grammar of a child, yet the story is clearly told when the narrator is much older. Still, I thought that this was a highly charming book. Some of the misspellings had me laughing out loud in some places.

Teaser Tuesdays

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

--Grab your current read

--Open to a random page

--share two “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page

Be sure NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (Make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)

--Share the title and author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR lists if they like your teasers!

“Poor Algernon’s innocent joke was doubly unsuccessful, for Harry stood perfectly glum, not moving a muscle. He had not been at all amused by the proceedings of the previous night.”

--From Hester, by Margaret Oliphant

The Sunday Salon

Another weekend, come and gone! I spent much of this morning reading Hester, by Margaret Oliphant, and part of this afternoon watching Thelma and Louise (HOW have I never seen this movie before??). I've changed up the layout and background of my blog, too. I also write a review of Few Eggs and no Oranges, which I started reading for Persephone Reading Weekend, but due to its length (590 pages, one of Persephone’s longest reprints, if not the longest) took me most of this past week to read. It’s a fascinating look at an average, middle-aged woman’s life in London during WWII; highly recommended.

Speaking of Persephone, I’ve had a barrage of them arrive at my home this past week; I never received my January book for my subscription, and then it, along with my February and March books, arrived within days of each other. The books I’ve received are The Mystery of Mrs. Blencarrow, Consequences, and Flush: A Biography. A few Viragos have arrived in the mail this past week, too: Untrodden Peaks and Unfrequented Valleys, Letters From Egypt (Virago Travellers), The Virago Book of Women Travellers, Myself When Young, The Glass-Blowers, The Three Miss Kings, and The Camomile. I spent about an hour at the Book Trader in Old City and used up credit with:

Testament of Youth, by Vera Brittain

Hungry Hill, by Daphne Du Maurier

Madame De Pompadour, by Nancy Mitford

Boudica: Dreaming the Bull, by Manda Scott

The Judge, by Rebecca West

The Thining Reed, by Rebecca West

The Age of Innocence, by Edith Wharton

Whew! That’s a lot. Even just looking at all my unread books is overwhelming. Despite all of that, however, I think my next read will be a re-read of Jane Eyre—another adaptation is coming out on March 11, although, sadly, not in my area (yet). But I’m just dying to see it!

Review: The Du Mauriers, by Daphne Du Maurier

Pages: 317

Original date of publication: 1937

My edition: 2004 (Virago)

Why I decided to read: it’s on the list of Virago Modern Classics

How I acquired my copy: Amazon UK, January 2011

The Du Mauriers is the biography Daphne Du Maurier wrote about her family in the 19^th century. The novel more or less starts where Mary Anne leaves off. Mary Anne Clarke’s daughter, Ellen, is the focus of the first half of the novel. Ellen marries Louis-Mathurin Busson du Maurier. Of their three children, their oldest son George (“Kicky”) is the focus of the second half of the biography, and covers the beginning of his career as a cartoonist. In this way, the book covers roughly 50 years of the du Maurier family history—and a very interesting history it is, too.

This book is truly written as though it’s fiction—the author puts herself in the position of Ellen and George, writing as though she was witness to her ancestors’ lives (for reference, Ellen and Louis were Daphne Du Maurier’s great-grandparents and George was her grandfather. Daphne was also cousin to the Llewellyn-Davies boys, who inspired Peter Pan). Daphne used her ancestors’ letters to depict their thoughts and feelings and the motives behind their actions. I was a little disappointed that the author chose not to focus on George’s whole life, but I enjoyed reading about the start of his famous career with Punch magazine, his blindness, and his romance with Emma. Daphne relates some very interesting anecdotes about her family members. Mention is also made of the inspiration behind George’s Trilby, one of the bestselling novels of the late 19^th century. Daphne portrays her family in a very rosy light, though Mary Anne mostly gets a heavy beating. I especially loved what the author has to say about her ancestors, most dead before she was even born:

So they pass out of memory and out of these pages, the figures of fifty, of a hundred years ago. Some of them were comic, and some a little tragic, and all of them had faults, but once they were living, breathing men and women like the rest of us, possing the world that we posses today.

Whether immortality is true, or is a theory invented by man as a sop to his natural fear, none of us will ever know; but it is consoling and rather tender to imagine that when we die we leave something of ourselves, like the wake of a vessel, as a reminder that we once passed this way.

At the time of writing this book, Daphne had written Jamaica Inn and was about to write Rebecca; so she was more or less at the height of her career. It’s interesting to analyze that last paragraph in light of her own success as an author! The Du Mauriers is a very readable biography of one extraordinary family. Daphne also wrote a biography of her father, Gerald, the famous actor and stage manager, which might be seen as a continuation of this book (though it was written first).

Review: Madame Tussaud, by Michelle Moran

Pages: 446

Original date of publication: 2010

My edition: 2010 (Crown)

Why I decided to read: I was offered a copy for review

How I acquired my copy: review copy from the author, February 2011

Michelle Moran has been known for her novels set in the ancient world—Egypt and Rome. Madame Tussaud is a departure for her, delving as it does into the world of late-18^th century France and the Revolution. Madame Tussaud, nee Marie Grosholtz, made a name for herself as an artist, making wax models of famous contemporaries—becoming involved, as she does so, with some of the major political and cultural figures of her day. It was an era in which everything changed almost overnight (right down to the clothes that people wore), and Madame Tussaud was right there to see it all happen. You almost fell, while reading this book, that you’re there yourself.

This is an absolutely stunning novel that had me captivated from beginning to end. Marie wasn’t exactly a beauty, and she wasn’t wealthy or of the nobility. But her perception of the events going on is astute. Michelle Moran describes the almost hysterical mood of the Revolution and Reign of Terror to perfection, keeping me on the edge of my seat. At first, I was a little bit unsure of how the present-tense narration would work; but I ignored it after a few pages and just let myself enjoy the story and characters.

Due to her work in wax, Marie was able to meet some of the major players of her day; she was even a tutor to the king’s sister. Marie straddled to worlds: she wasn’t of the nobility, but she became semi-familiar to the royal family. On the other hand, her family’s Salon became a gathering place for major revolutionary figures of the day. It was interesting to see where Marie’s loyalties lay—and to watch the romance grow between herself and Henri. Marie in the novel isn’t depicted as having a modern mindset, but she deals with a dilemma that still plagues women today: work versus personal happiness in love. I still wonder why she made the decision to marry Francoise Tussaud—an error in judgment, as it turns out. This is a novel definitely worth the read.

The Top Ten Unread Books I've Owned the Longest

I keep a spreadsheet on my computer of all the books I own but haven’t read, and I list where and when I bought them, and how I heard about the book in the first place. The list has 112 books on it right now! It’s a good resource that I use when I’m writing the “headers” for my reviews. I thought it would be fun to see which books I’ve owned the longest, and when and where and why I bought them. I feel like every book in my collection has a story, so here are some of them.

1. 1. Evelina, by Fanny Burney. I bought this at a Barnes and Noble in April or May of 2008, when I was still living in New York City. At the time I was conscientiously trying to read through the 1001 Books to Read Before You Die list… and this was on there.

2. 2. The Birds Fall Down, by Rebecca West. Another book from the 1001 list. I bought this used at a secondhand store near my apartment in Brooklyn in the spring or summer of 2008. My copy is a first edition.

3. 3. The Question, by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles. This is I believe the 25^th book in the Morland Dynasty series, and I’m trying to read the series in order (the books make more sense that way). My local Borders had a copy of this is stock (in January 2009, when I bought it), so I picked it up to read when the time was right. I’m currently on book 21; if I continue to read one a month, I should get around to it this year.

4. 4. What Jane Austen Ate and Charles Dickens Knew, by Daniel Pool. Bought with a Boders gift card in February 2009. I had a gift card to burn and I found this while browsing in the store.

5. 5. The Falcons of Montabard, by Elizabeth Chadwick. Bought in May 2009 from Bookdepository. I’m a huge fan of Elizabeth Chadwick’s novels, and this is actually one of the first of her books I’d ever bought. However, I’m trying to read her books slowly, in publication order—this one is up next!

6. 6. The Moonspinners, by Mary Stewart. June 2009 from Chester County Books and Music. I’d been there for a book reading and signing, and while I was browsing I picked up a bunch of Mary Stewart’s novels.

7. 7. Shadows and Strongholds, by Elizabeth Chadwick. Bought from Waterstones in Piccadilly, London, September 2009. See no. 5. The trip to London was a Big Save and Splurge—I think I bought about 25 books, most from the Persephone shop in Lambs Conduit Street.

8. 8. The Water Horse, by Julia Gregson. Bought from Foyles, London, September 2009.

9. 9. The Collected Ghost Stories of MR James. Bought from an antiquarian bookseller in Charing Cross Road, September 2009. I was hanging around in Charing Cross Road before I went to go see The Mousetrap, and I found this edition from 1934 in the basement of the shop.

10. Vainglory, by Geraldine McCaughrean. Bought from the South Bank Book Market, September 2009. Elizabeth Chadwick had just mentioned this book on her blog as one of her favorites. The South Bank Bookmarket is an open-air bookstall under the Waterloo Bridge. Lots of secondhand books to be found at low prices and worth the browse if you’re ever in London.

Teaser Tuesdays

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

--Grab your current read

--Open to a random page

--share two “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page

Be sure NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (Make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)

--Share the title and author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR lists if they like your teasers!

[Wednesday 12th March 1941]: “Saw the secretary again. She has worked twenty years for the same doctor, and mercifully had put all his records in the refrigerator. Hopes they are safe. She looked as if shock was beginning to tell.”

--From Few Eggs and No Oranges: The Diaries of Vere Hodgson 1940-45.