Cornflower Books

The nicest book of the year

   

    A few words on The Runaways (also known as Linnets and Valerians) by Elizabeth Goudge, which is as the post title says, the nicest book I've read all year.

    Quite simply, this was a delight - a story of 'setting right', of coming into one's own, of happy endings. It's about four siblings who find themselves at the home of their rather marvellous Uncle Ambrose and who thus become agents for change and a power for good prevailing over ill will, so that all becomes well with their somewhat magical world in the village of High Barton.

    It's full of delicious food, beautiful gardens, quirkily characterful houses, and a charming collection of people (and animals), all vividly drawn and described, but it's its warmth and joyousness which make it special.

    A book to lift the spirits and gladden the heart.

Wishing you a very happy Christmas ...

    ... and hoping Santa brings you lots of lovely books!

Old books of the year

       
   
    My post of a couple of weeks ago was concerned with new books, but some 'old' ones have given as much pleasure or more and have earned their Cornflower Blue too.

    In no particular order then come Cynthia Harnett's The Wool-Pack (I read it here), Mary Stewart's The Crystal Cave (it turns out I knew Lady Stewart's editor), The Silent Traveller in Oxford by Chiang Yee (a man after my own heart), Rumer Godden's In this House of Brede (which many of us enjoyed), and although I've yet to finish it, The Runaways by Elizabeth Goudge. Each is special in its own way.

Delightful!

       Just a quick post to follow up on this one from a few months ago and to say that I am at long last reading a novel of Elizabeth Goudge's - The Runaways (also known as Linnets and Valerians) - and it is a joy, every page a delight!

        Thanks to everyone who left a comment on that earlier post; they show in no uncertain terms that EG was a writer who touched people's hearts and made a deep and lasting impression on her readers, and even at this early stage I can see why that is.

Cornflower Blues - books of the year, 2014

   

    This has not been a vintage reading year for me; I've read fewer books than usual, and of them only a handful stand out, so the number awarded the Cornflower Blue in 2014 is tiny compared to last year, say, but still, the honoured five are up there with the best of them.

    Esteemed runners-up in the fiction category are Bodies of Light by Sarah Moss (there's a post on it here), Little Egypt by Lesley Glaister (post here), and The Stories by Jane Gardam.

    The outright winner in non-fiction is Margaret Forster's My Life in Houses (see this post), and my novel of the year - no surprise to assiduous readers of this blog - is History of the Rain by Niall Williams (for the reasons given here and in the longer piece to which I've linked).

    My thanks to all those writers for the pure reading pleasure their work has given me, and for being true 'class acts', worthy of our respect and admiration.

A study

    "I like a great library next my study; but for the study itself, give me a small snug place, almost entirely walled with books. There should be only one window in it, looking upon trees. Some prefer a place with few, or no books at all - nothing but a chair or a table, like Epictetus; but I should say that these were philosophers, not lovers of books, if I did not recollect that Montaigne was both. He had a study in a round tower, walled as aforesaid. It is true, one forgets one's books while writing - at least they say so. For my part, I think I have them in a sort of sidelong mind's eye; like a second thought, which is none - like a waterfall, or a whispering wind."

J.H. Leigh Hunt, My Books, another passage from The Book Lovers' Anthology: A Compendium of Writing About Books, Readers and Libraries.

 

    The picture - perhaps a modern version of Leigh Hunt's ideal - is of the Scholar's Library by the New York architects Gluck+ which I found thanks to this blog.

Only a novel

 

   " 'What are you reading, Miss ---?' 'Oh! It's only a novel!' replies the young lady; while she lays down her book with affected indifference, or momentary shame. 'It is only Cecilia, or Camilla, or Belinda'; or, in short, only some work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed; in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit or humour, are conveyed to the world in the best chosen language."

    Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey, quoted in The Book Lovers' Anthology: A Compendium of Writing About Books, Readers and Libraries.

Snow

    Faber have recently published an edition of Walter de la Mare's poem Snow illustrated by Carolina Rabei. I haven't seen the book, but the trailer is delightful enough to make me seek it out.

Book of the day - Cover Your Eyes

   

    I know a lot of us are fans of Adèle Geras's books, and will be glad to hear that her new novel for adults, Cover Your Eyes, has just been published. I'm greatly looking forward to this one and shall be reading it soon (and then passing it straight on to my mum who loves Adèle's work), but until I get to it, here's the blurb:

    "Eva was once a legendary fashion designer whose career ended abruptly. She lives with her family in Salix House, the home she's loved for forty years. When the family announces it's time to sell, Eva is reluctant. The house contains many memories and long held secrets.

    Megan is a fashion journalist who interviewed Eva for a magazine. Devastated at the end of a love affair, Megan is drawn back to Salix House.

    Although decades apart in age, both women share painful pasts. Perhaps together they can confront their fears, discover the truth of Salix House's secrets, and move on."

    Click here to read an article Adèle has written about the real and terrible events which form the background to the novel, and on a lighter note, the fun she had creating her central character's life in fashion - Eva is a Jean Muir figure, and that elegance and style should make for some lovely detail.

    Adèle ends her piece thus: "I think the present is much more interesting when it's aware of the past; when it looks back in some way. In Cover Your Eyes, Eva's early years are woven through  the text, threading scenes set in 1938 and at various times in the 1960s into a story that takes place in the present day. I hope that everyone who reads it enjoys this novel and relishes, like me, travelling magically through time."

    I can't wait!

Another fine one leaves us

    P.D. James, a lady I admired enormously, has died today aged 94. Much has been and will be written about her and her work, but that apart, it was her wit, her sharp intellect, her wisdom, personal courage, and integrity which engendered so much respect and esteem. I've been privileged to hear her talk in person, and rarely have I felt as I did then that I was in the company of someone who was - very quietly and unassumingly - head and shoulders above most others.

    If you haven't read her beyond her novels, do look out for Time to Be in Earnest: A Fragment of Autobiography and Talking About Detective Fiction.

 

Edited to add: take a look at the Books at the BBC tribute to P.D. James, a special archive of radio programmes in which she featured.

Absolutely Topping!

   

     I mentioned the other day that I'd been past the premises of Topping & Co. in St Andrews before the shop opened, well on Friday I was back in the town again and had time for a quick look in, and what a lovely place it is! First of all I was impressed by the fitting, very smart floor to ceiling shelving with library ladders, cosy alcoves, and a wood-burning stove to take the chill off a cold day, though the welcome itself was warm enough to induce a glow, and tea and coffee are offered to all customers. As to the stock, from what I saw it was a very good mix of what you'd expect to find alongside less predictable and well-chosen titles befitting a shop of that calibre. It was exciting to be there, and that's not something you can say about every bookshop.

    I didn't take pictures but you'll get a fair idea of the look of the place from these shots of the Ely and Bath branches. As it was, I had a brief chat with the very pleasant Louise Topping, and spotted a book which I didn't have time to buy but have since sent in my St. Andrews correspondent (i.e. daughter Harriet) to get for me: "it's a book lover's paradise" was her verdict after she visited, and she's right. Do go if you can - on the 10th. Dec you could meet Alexander McCall Smith.*

 

*Speaking of authors, if you're a fan of Kate Atkinson's and would like to see her garden, follow the link here.

My Life in Houses

   

    I have long admired Margaret Forster's writing: she's clear, straightforward, understated, quietly compelling; not showy, loud or 'clever'. I've read her biography of Daphne du Maurier and several novels, chief among them Lady's Maid, and Keeping the World Away, about Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Gwen John respectively (see this post), ones to look out for if you don't already know them.

    Her latest book is a memoir, My Life in Houses, a portrait of the homes she's lived in and an account of their significance to each stage of her life, and I commend it to you for its author's clear-sightedness, self-awareness, level-headed pragmatism and lack of sentimentality.

    The book begins with a quotation from Leonard Woolf of which the following is an extract:

    "The house - in which I include its material and spiritual environment - has an immense influence on its inhabitants ... what has the deepest and most permanent effect upon oneself and one's way of living is the house in which one lives. The house determines the day-to-day, minute-to-minute quality, colour, atmosphere, pace of one's life; it is the framework of what one does, of what one can do, of one's relations with people ..."

    Margaret Forster charts her life from house to house, from growing up in Carlisle, to her lodgings in Oxford (college life having been tried and found wanting), to a rented flat in the Vale of Health in Hampstead where newly married to fellow writer Hunter Davies she finds a situation close to perfection, and thence to a house which, despite unpromising beginnings becomes the settled, much-loved family home and a place of refuge and content. Those are the bones of the book; you must read it to see how - simply but profoundly - they are fleshed out.

    Reflecting on the particular nature and significance of home - in this instance a house she has lived in for most of her adult life - Margaret Forster says "Yet somehow the house itself, its very fabric, is of importance. An intimate knowledge of its layout, of how all the rooms are arranged and used, stimulates a weird pleasure. I know this house. It has been changed by us not only in the real, practical sense of altering its appearance and internal geography, but by our living within it. Instinct guides me everywhere. I don't have to wonder where I am going or what I will find. The house doesn't need to remind me of what has taken place, why certain rooms are of a significance nobody else could possibly guess. Take the building away and it is alarming to realise memories might not be enough. Something indefinable would be lost. I need the house's influence - the 'influence' that Leonard Woolf thought 'might well be the subject of a scientific investigation'. ... Our house has not exactly moulded me. But, on the other hand, it has provided a structure and a privacy which have been of immeasurable value. I was not mistaken, as a child, to believe that having a house, never mind a room, of my own was, for me, hugely important.

    "... My house is like a garment, made to my exact measurements, draped around me in the way I like. I never want to change it."

Popping in and catching up

    Posts have been few and far between lately, and that's set to continue as other commitments take priority, but I must just mention a few things as I pop in briefly:

    The respected bookseller Topping & Company is about to open a branch in St. Andrews. I passed the shop in Greyfriars Garden this morning and found it tantalisingly full of stock but its doors firmly closed until next Monday (the 17th.). I shall look forward to visiting Toppings on my next visit.

    A couple of articles caught my eye over the last few days: A.S. Byatt on Margery Allingham - "she turned puzzles into true drama, but with a conscious artificer's grace" - and an interview with Richard Adams, still going strong at 94.

    As to current reading, I am greatly enjoying Margaret Forster's memoir My Life in Houses - and related to that, do see Liz Wood's comment on this post in which she offers a profound and most fascinating insight; much food for thought there.

Novel of the week

   

    I've read three novels over the last week, all good, all to be recommended, all much enjoyed. Despite their finer points, however, one is overwrought, another is over-long, and both those two address the issues at their hearts uncomfortably earnestly and with an ill-fitting 21st. century sensibility, reflecting on their period characters a contemporary outlook rather than views in keeping with their time.

    The third book falls into none of these traps. Juliet West's Before the Fall is a highly accomplished debut with that integrity - sense of wholeness - which is so often lacking in novels of all genres and at all points on the literary scale. Based - tragically - on actual events, it is in essence a love story set in London's East End during the First World War, but it stands out for the quality of its writing, and for the way in which it depicts the moral spectrum of its period rather than ours. While my hand was twitching for the virtual editorial pencil where the other books were concerned, of this one I wouldn't change a word.

Good lines: 'through leaves'

   

    "As long ago as 1924, Vita had recorded simple everyday occurrences guaranteed to make her happy: 'walking on crisp snow; running a stick along railings; stamping on a nut; stripping the shell from a hard-boiled egg; writing with the really ideal nib*; plunging into the sudden comfort of warm water on a cold night'. Each inspired a sensation she labelled 'through leaves' on the analogy of the uncomplicated pleasure inherent in kicking one's way through dry leaves on an autumn walk. Though not intended as an inventory of personal fulfilment (Vita's list omitted Harold [her husband], poetry, gardening, her houses, Ben, Nigel [her sons], dogs and intimate friends, it indicates something of the nature of her engagement with her world."

    From Behind the Mask: The Life of Vita Sackville-West by Matthew Dennison.

 

*Oh yes!

By their books shall ye know them

    If you had to plot a person on a map of character, so to speak - i.e. mark their position on a chart of temperament, foibles, predilections, and so on, you could do worse than define them with reference to their taste in books.

    I came to this conclusion the other day when I was reading Cynthia Harnett's The Wool-Pack which is set mostly in the Cotswold village of Burford, a place I know slightly, and indeed I've stayed in The Bay Tree in Sheep Street, a building which could be the model for the Fetterlocks' house in the book. Picturing the location, I quickly sank into the story and its delightful and detailed look at 15th. century rural life, and then I noticed that on the endpaper of my library copy was a map with places such as Newbury, Winchester and Southampton all marked. "Oh no," I thought, "don't tell me that Nicholas has to leave the safety and comfort of home and go on a journey!" And with a moment of sharp self-awareness I realised that if I'd been a member of The Inklings when Tolkien was writing Lord Of The Rings, I'd have said "just let them stay in The Shire, Tollers," and then where would we be?

    In case I give the wrong impression, I do of course leave my northern fastness to venture 'abroad', I am not a recluse, but I love home and my roots go down deep, so any novel which makes much of a happy house and a settled person is welcome on my shelf. Let them travel if you must, I would say to an author of their characters, but bring them safely back again, so that at story's end these lines of Browning's might sum things up:

   The year's at the spring
    And day's at the morn;
    Morning's at seven;
    The hillside's dew-pearled;
    The lark's on the wing;
    The snail's on the thorn:
    God's in His heaven—
    All's right with the world!

The Beat Goes On

   

    Mr. C. writes:

    "I hope you get as much fun reading these stories as I had writing them" says Ian Rankin in the introduction to The Beat Goes On, the complete set of short stories about Edinburgh detective John Rebus. Mission accomplished: both for hardened Rebus fans and for newcomers, this collection is so evocative you can almost smell the malt tang of the Caledonian Brewery and see the grey, glittering city with its dark passions and moral ambiguities. There are tales of high society and low life, tales of bitter depravity and macabre humour, all illuminated by Rebus's glowering intelligence as he pursues a very personal ideal of justice through the bars and drawing rooms and suburban bungalows and grim estates of Edinburgh. A dangerous book to have on the bedside table - you just want to keep reading on and on into the wee small hours of the night - and a dangerous book to lend: make sure you get it back.

Fact and the unexplained

    From last month's Historical Novel Society London conference, here is the very interesting discussion Fact and the Unexplained: Myths, Fairy Tales, and the Gothic, chaired by Kate Forsyth with Prof. Diana Wallace, Essie Fox, Jessie Burton and Deborah Harkness*. (I loved Kate Forsyth's description of historical fiction as "history set to music".)

*I recently re-read A Discovery of Witches, the first volume in Deborah Harkness' All Souls trilogy, and enjoyed it just as much as the first time - it's a lot of fun. If you want to know more, watch this edition of Book Lust with Nancy Pearl.

Recommendations

   

    Back in May, on the recommendation of Lory, I added Hild by Nicola Griffith to my lengthy wish list. Browsing the latest edition of The Good Book Guide today I see the novel - which is based on the early life of St. Hilda of Whitby - is the 'Editor's Choice' in the historical fiction section, praised for its exhaustive research, page-turning qualities, characterisation, and the fineness of its 'cloth'. I've moved it up my list.

    From my own recent reading I'd like to offer you three recommendations (and these books will all be appearing in next month's Guide):

    Mr Mac and Me by Esther Freud, which I loved for its delicacy, its subtlety, its beautiful, restrained writing, and for the poignancy of its story, that of Charles Rennie Mackintosh in the Suffolk village of Walberswick at the beginning of the First World War; "a fine novel of art and nature, and of life's ebbs and flows."

    The Taxidermist's Daughter by Kate Mosse is the first novel of hers I've read, and on the strength of it it won't be the last. She describes herself as a storyteller, I believe, and this book clearly demonstrates that skill. A gripping gothic thriller again set on the south coast but this time in the very stormy spring of 1912, I was impressed by the way the central conceit is developed, and I admire the lengths the author went to for her research (the clue is in the title!) for this "compelling story of justice, and of a punishment to fit a crime".

    First Impressions by Charlie Lovett is indeed, as its subtitle has it, a novel of old books, young love and Jane Austen, and if you've read Charlie's The Bookman's Tale, its style will be familiar. It's a literary romp set in Oxford and London in the present day and in Hampshire in the late 1700s, and it features the genesis of one of the greatest novels in the English language and a dastardly plot to discredit the blessed Jane. It's fast-paced and fun, and if at times it recalls the old silent movie 'pretty girl tied to the railway tracks by the evil villain' trope, it's none the worse for that!

Short but sweet

    The above was found on Twitter; I don't know the identity of the young book reviewer, but I admire the passion behind their words!