Enchanted by April in August

I read The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim aptly in April and was thoroughly enchanted by it. I have waited until now to review it because I didn't want to until I had watched the film adaptation. I have now watched it and again have been enchanted by April in August.

The novel concerns one enchanting and life-changing April that four women, strangers, spend together in a castle in Italy. Two of the women, Lotty Wilkins and Rose Arbuthnot, both dissatisfied, childless housewives, meet and connect at their ladies' club over an adverisement in The Times:

To Those who Appreciate Wistaria and Sunshine. Small mediaeval Italian Castle on the shores of the Mediterranean to be Let Furnished for the month of April. Necessary servants remain. Z, Box 1000, The Times.

On a wet and dismal day in London Lotty and Rose bond over their mutual desire to escape on a wonderful holiday. To offset their indulgence and protect Lotty's nest-egg they decide to advertise for two more women to join them to share the cost and are joined by Mrs Fisher, a waspish, older lady whose friends are dead writers, and Lady Caroline Dester, a socialite attempting to escape the grabbing hands of men. All of the women seek a respite and sancturary in the sun but instead are enchanted by the magic of San Salvatore; the month spent on the Italian Riviera is revelatory and life-changing for the visitors.

San Salvatore, Lotty would say, San Salvatore working its spell of happiness. She could quite believe in its spell. Even she was happier there than she had been for ages and ages.

Evocative of Italy and of Spring The Enchanted April is a delightful read; it is gentle and quiet and beautiful. It is not all pretty flowers and charming women, however, but contains several moments of witty observation:

'But there are no men here,' said Mrs. Wilkins, 'so how can it be improper?' Have you noticed,' she inquired of Mrs. Fisher, who endeavoured to pretend she did not hear, 'how difficult it is to be improper without men?'

Several of the exchanges between the women, especially between Lotty and Mrs Fisher, are highly amusing and when Mr Wilkins and Mr Arbuthnot arrive (after their wives invite them) there is high comedy, especially when Mellersh takes a bath.

If you are looking for a light but thoroughly engaging and enjoyable book then I recommend this one; it really is lovely and enchanting. I was so enraptured by it in April that I immediately tracked down a few more copies of Elizabeth von Arnim books, all Virago Modern Classics, to read and I still look forward to doing so.

I also recommend the adpatation which is directed by Mike Newell and has a stellar cast of Joan Plowright (nominated for a supporting actress Oscar for her role as Mrs Fisher); Miranda Richardson; Josie Lawrence; Polly Walker; Alfred Molina; Jim Broadbent; and Michael Kitchen. It is curious how characters onscreen can often fit or change your perception of them in the book; I wasn't sure of Josie Lawrence in the role of Lotty when I recognised her on my cover (I am not a fan of film tie-in covers for the most part but this one doesn't offend me too much) but her humour carries off the eccentric but very sweet Lotty. Moreover I was more sympathetic of Mellersh, Lotty's husband (played by Alfred Molina), in the film as he came across as less domineering in the end and quite tender towards his wife; Jim Broadbent played the part of Frederick Arbuthnot to perfection and I found him far more obnoxious in the flesh than in prose, perhaps because his round, red face was visible and not imagined.

The representation onscreen is imbued with beauty in the colour and flowers and peace and implied fragrance described wonderfully in the novel, in stark contrast to the dark, dismal London of earlier scenes. The castle where the adaptation was filmed is Portofino, a castle Elizabeth von Arnim rented one April in the twenties to write "a happy book" and where she decided to set it as the scenery was begging to be described.

She jumped up ... and threw open the shutters.
'Oh!' cried Mrs Wilkins.
All the radiance of April in Italy lay gathered together at her feet. The sun poured in on her. The sea lay asleep in it, hardly stirring. Across the bay the lovely mountains, exquisitely different in colour, were asleep to it the light; and underneath her window, at the bottom of the flower-starred grass slope from which the wall of the castle rose up, was a great cypress, cutting through the delicate blues and violets and rose colours of the mountains and the sea like a great black sword.
She stared. Such beauty; and she was there to see it. Such beauty; and she was alive to feel it. Her face was bathed in light. Lovely scents came up to the window and caressed her. A tiny breeze gently lifted her hair.