Defined by Books

Simon of Stuck-in-a-Book tagged me in his ten books meme three weeks ago and I am only now getting around to posting; both another cookie crumbles and JoAnn of Lakeside Musings tagged me in the honest scrap "ten things" award so this is also a response to them with ten bookish things about me.

Simon's rules:

1.) Go to your bookshelves...
2.) Close your eyes. If you're feeling really committed, blindfold yourself.
3.) Select ten books at random. Use more than one bookcase, if you have them, or piles by the bed, or... basically, wherever you keep books.
4.) Use these books to tell us about yourself - where and when you got them, who got them for you, what the book says about you, etc. etc.....
5.) Have fun! Be imaginative. Doesn't matter if you've read them or not - be creative. It might not seem easy to start off with, and the links might be a little tenuous, but I think this is a fun way to do this sort of meme.
6.) Feel free to cheat a bit, if you need to...

Seeing as Simon fully sanctioned cheating ... I did. To be fair, I instinctively know where all of my books are so I couldn't have picked them unknowingly blind but I did choose them at random by looking at the bookshelves and quickly choosing ten books from ten different shelves, one or two of them as intentionally representative of something about me.

Everything I Needed to Know about Being a Girl I Learned from Judy Blume: this title is self-explanatory and true. I could have shared one of my Judy Blume books but instead I thought this was far more revealing about me. I loved Judy Blume as a girl and still hold a soft spot for some of her books (Just as Long as We're Together, Here's to You Rachel Robinson, Tiger Eyes, Deenie ...)

Trumpet by Jackie Kay: there are several books that I could have used to tell you that I am from Glasgow but none quite as beautiful as this one, in which the 1960s sections are set in my home-city (Kay also grew up there).

The Collected Stories by Katherine Mansfield: I was first introduced to Katherine Mansfield by a beloved English teacher at school who gave us "The Doll House" to read, which remains one of my favourite short stories because of its apparent simplicity yet also inexplicable quality. This book reveals not only a cherished bookish memory from school but also that I own a replica Victorian dollhouse (I used to own two, but my sister now has my first one) and collect miniature furniture, including books, a Swan Lake screen, a tiny Tiffany lamp (post-dating Victoriana but too cute to resist). Furthermore, it reveals my obsession with silver Penguin Modern Classics, of which this one is a favourite.

Bold Girls by Rona Munro: another set text from school (for Higher English), Rona Munro is a Scottish playwright although this play concerns four women in war-torn Belfast. I loved this play when I studied it and a friend bought me my own copy and wrote a dedication inside likening me to one of the characters (whose part I had read in class). I am a huge fan of drama; I don't read or see as many plays any more as I used to but I have a full shelf on my bookcases dedicated to plays and that doesn't include my numerous books by and about Shakespeare. I forget that readers of my blog probably don't know that I am an English Literature graduate (I also have my Master's) but it is an intrinsic part of me.

Nights at the Circus by Angela Carter: I couldn't define myself using books and not include Angela Carter. Anyone who doesn't know that I am a Carter devotee hasn't been reading my posts closely enough! Nights at the Circus was the first book of hers that I read and hence meaningful.

Mog's Christmas by Judith Kerr: along with Dogger by Shirley Hughes this was my favourite picture book as a child. My much-loved and dog-eared copy was handed down to my sister and is still at home but my boyfriend bought me a lovely mini hardback copy a few Christmases ago.

Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them by Francine Prose: another perfect gift choice by my boyfriend, this book is indispensable and I love close-reading a chapter at a time over and over. The subtitle is revealing as I am both of those people; the book sits on my writing shelf, where I have writing style handbooks, creative aids, and a number of short story volumes by writers included in the book.

The Brontës Went to Woolworths by Rachel Ferguson: I began to consciously collect the original green-spined Virago Modern Classics in April 2008 and very early on I coveted an elusive copy of this book. Shortly after looking at expensive copies online, I went into an Oxfam Books in Glasgow, purposefully seeking a copy; I instantly honed in on a green spine (a skill known by all that collect these editions) and it was the one I was looking for! Priced at a wonderful £2.49. Very surreal and quirky, this book bears re-reading but I know that I am never going to part with it, even if Bloomsbury have re-issued it in a particularly lovely ice-cream copy.

A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf: I adore this essay by Woolf and love to pick it up and luxuriate in her words and thoughts. As a feminist I love to read about Woolf walking on the lawn of Oxbridge and adore her creation of Judith, Shakespeare's sister. Although I am attached to this Penguin edition I am somewhat obsessed with the earlier purple and cream striped one; I own most of the Penguin merchandise that imitates the iconic edition: the bookbag, the notebook and poster and I covet the postcard and mug.

Love by Toni Morrison: this is the book I'd rescue from a burning building, not because of the book itself but the inscription inside; my boyfriend bought me this for our first Christmas together and wrote something beautiful to me. This is one of several books that have something meaningful written to me inside but this one, above the others, is incredibly special; if I shared it online, it would betray my boyfriend and I would never do that.

Did you learn anything new about me from this meme and did you notice that all of my books are written by women?

Cassandra at the Wedding

Cassandra at the Wedding by Dorothy Baker: Cassandra Edwards is a graduate student at Berkeley: gay, brilliant, nerve-wracked, miserable. At the beginning of this novel, she drives back to her family ranch in the foothills of the Sierras to attend the wedding of her identical twin, Judith, to a nice young doctor from Connecticut. Cassandra, however, is hell-bent on sabotaging the wedding.

Dorothy Baker's entrancing tragicomic novella follows an unpredictable course of events in which her heroine appears variously as conniving, self-aware, pitiful, frenzied, absurd, and heartbroken—at once utterly impossible and tremendously sympathetic. Cassandra reckons with her complicated feelings about the sister who she feels owes it to her to be her alter ego; with her father, a brandy-soaked retired professor of philosophy; and with the ghost of her dead mother, as she struggles to come to terms with the only life she has.

First published in 1962, Cassandra at the Wedding is a book of enduring freshness, insight, and verve. Like the fiction of Jeffrey Eugenides and Jhumpa Lahiri, it is the work of a master stylist with a profound understanding of the complexities of the heart and mind.

I wrote last week that I was intending to indulge in some themed reading at the weekend as I was attending a wedding (two friends - beautiful day) and I did; I opted for Cassandra at the Wedding by Dorothy Baker. I decided on this one because it was the title that most intrigued me, I had been tempted by it since reading Verity's review this summer and, moreover, it had been some time since I read any of my green Virago Modern Classics (or non-green, come to that). So, Cassandra at the Wedding it was. I felt it worthwhile to include the synopsis again to firstly recount the key plot points and also for the comparison with Jhumpa Lahiri that is given; after also reading Lahiri recently, I can testify that Dorothy Baker is likewise a "master stylist", skilled at evoking emotion.

Cassandra at the Wedding is a novel of heightened emotion; it is intense. The narrative is written in a conversational style that is inclusive and yet also overwhelming; Cassandra's narration is so emotionally-charged that it is a relief when Judith narrates a section in the second half, before a calmer, more focused and less passionate Cassandra resumes the telling. The intensity of the novel is employed also through the short time period of events -two days- and a stifling heat is described that also evokes a sense of claustrophobia within the text; these literary devices are highly effective as we are taken on an emotional rollercoaster of a ride with Cassandra. Also indicative of Baker's sheer talent is that never once is the word "twin" used yet Cassandra and Judith are twins and that is very much conveyed without using the term, for example, "I looked ... in a blue mirror .... It was the face of my sister Judith" and "It was on our birth cerificates that way. The one named Cassandra was two ounces heavier and eleven minutes older than the one named Judith." This is a novel about the struggle for identity especially when you have someone who looks identical to you and who you sometimes think is you; it is about familial and emotional dependence and an exceptional study of jealousy. Cassandra at the Wedding will resonate with anyone who has a sister, not necessarily a twin, who understands the sense of moving on and moving away and grieving for a childhood that was so much simpler.

Cassandra at the Wedding is not a plot-driven novel but an emotion-based one that has wonderful moments of wit and wryness. Cassandra is both an unreliable narrator and a sympathetic one; she was an intriguing character and one that I enjoyed immensely. The rapid and pithy dialogue between Cassandra and Judith is like an energetic, competitive game of tennis and a joy to read, if a little difficult to keep up with as they parry back and forth. This book is engaging as well as a great study in writing.

A favourite passage and example of the style:

I'm not, at heart, a jumper; it's not my sort of thing … I think I knew all the time I was sizing up the bridge that the strong possibility was I'd go home, attend my sister's wedding as invited, help hook-and-zip her into whatever she wore, take the bouquet while she received the ring, through the nose or on the finger, wherever she chose to receive it, and hold my peace when it became a question of speaking now of forever holding it.

Appendix

An appendix to yesterday's post on Mary McCarthy's The Group: I forgot to mention that a copy of the book appeared in the current series of the critically-acclaimed and popular American TV show, Man Men. From the screen-shot below you can see that the copy is being read in the bath by the character, Betty Draper; set in the 1960s the book itself would have been topical and I like the clever and historically-accurate product-placement.

As I have disclosed previously on Twitter to some fellow bloggers, I have tried to watch Man Men but I can't get into it. I find it aesthetically pleasing (the sets and styling are sumptuous) and I have a love of the period but it fails to fully sustain my attention; it is a very gentle and character-focused show and my concentration fails. I have attempted the first two or three episodes of the first season and my boyfriend is a huge fan so should I persevere? I have the feeling that it is a series that I would ultimately love and that it is the Richard Yates equivalent of television. Furthermore, how can the inclusion of The Group not sell it to me? I have heard nothing but positive reviews thus far but I need some extra encouragement ... so do you watch it and recommend it?

The Group Redux

In July I wrote about The Group by Mary McCarthy and I enthused about it; five months on and it remains one of my best book discoveries of 2009. Today marks the reissue of The Group by Virago Press as a Virago Modern Classic, a categorisation it so richly deserves; readers in the UK can now buy a copy (with 25% off from an affiliated online bookseller). Virago very kindly sent me the book and I was so happy to receive a copy of my own that I was tempted to immediately reread it again, which is testimony to how profound an impression this book made on me. I actually received my copy a few weeks ago but it was under embargo so I haven't been able to urge you all until now to buy The Group now that it is newly available!

When I reviewed The Group I mentioned the comparisons to Sex and the City (that may make some run for the hills but I personally love the show) and appropriately Candace Bushnell wrote the introduction to the reissued edition. Bushnell's editor commissioned her to write "the modern-day version of The Group" and what is apparent, being familiar with both and being a woman myself, is that the issues that face women and the choices they make are not so very different seventy years on (the novel is based in the 1930s).

The Group was published a few months after The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan and is a seminal feminist text within the bounds of fiction. I find it interesting that Mary McCarthy distanced herself from this label as do current female writers (you can read more about the effect of the novel on McCarthy and subsequent women writers in this interesting Guardian article from the weekend). There is such a stigma attached to the word "feminist" that is, in my opinion, unjust. The Group is a highly enjoyable and intensely interesting novel that vividly evokes the era it is set in and yet remains timeless in its concerns. The first of its kind to address the issues of sex, contraception, motherhood, marriage and careers, The Group is a striking study of the issues women face and the choices they make. It is also wonderfully well-written and for writers and those aspiring to write, a great example of what can be achieved writing about real-life and personal experience.

In a serendipitous blog coincidence, Verity has reviewed The Group today.

Anyone for Pyms?

I have discussed Barbara Pym and the funky new Virago Modern Classics editions of her work in a previous post. Since then I have accumulated two more titles, Excellent Women and A Glass of Blessings (the latter forthcoming in December), which Virago generously sent me. I now have a lovely little stockpile of Pym novels, which excites me as I have the feeling that I am going to love them and delight in Pym's ironic tone. What does concern me, however, is that I don't know where to start; I fully intended to read Excellent Women during November as I have heard that this is her best book but do I really want to start with the best? Isn't it more enjoyable to build up to the best novel in an author's canon and start with her first novel, Some Tame Gazelle, instead?

Please help! I desperately want to read one novel at least from the those above this month and value your input. This doesn't have to be based on personal experience, if you have none, but from the synopses below please vote which one you would read if given the choice.

Jane and Prudence: If Prudence Bates and Jane Cleveland seem an unlikely pair to be walking together at a reunion of old students in Oxford, neither of them is aware of it. Born a decade apart, their pupil and tutor relationship has circumscribed their lives and cemented their friendship.

No Fond Return of Love: Dulcie Mainwearing is always helping others, but never looks out for herself - especially in the realm of love. Her friend Viola is besotted by the alluring Dr Aylwin Forbes, so surely it isn't prying if Dulcie helps things along? Aylwin, however, is smitten by Dulcie's pretty young niece. And perhaps Dulcie herself, however ridiculous it may be, is falling, just a little, for Aylwin. Once life's little humiliations are played out, maybe love will be returned, and fondly, after all...

Some Tame Gazelle: 'It was odd that Harriet should always have been so fond of curates. They were so immature and always made the same kind of conversation. Now the Archdeacon was altogether different ...' Together yet alone, the Misses Bede occupy the central crossroads of parish life. Harriet, plump, elegant and jolly, likes nothing better than to make a fuss of new curates, secure in the knowledge that elderly Italian Count Ricardo Bianco will propose to her yet again this year. Belinda, meanwhile has harboured sober feelings of devotion towards Archdeacon Hochleve for thirty years. Then into their quiet, comfortable lives comes a famous librarian, Nathaniel Mold, and a bishop from Africa, Theodore Grote - who each take to calling on the sisters for rather more unsettling reasons.

Excellent Women: Mildred Lathbury is one of those 'excellent women' who is often taken for granted. She is a godsend, 'capable of dealing with most of the stock situations of life - birth, marriage, death, the successful jumble sales, the garden fete spoilt by bad weather'. As such, she often gets herself embroiled in other people's lives - especially those of her glamorous new neighbours, the Napiers, whose marriage seems to be on the rocks. One cannot take sides in these matters, though it is tricky, especially as Mildred, teetering on the edge of spinsterhood, has a soft spot for dashing young Rockingham Napier. This is Barbara Pym's world at its funniest and most touching.

A Glass of Blessings: Wilmet Forsyth is well dressed, well looked after, suitably husbanded, good looking and fairly young - but very bored. Her husband Rodney, a handsome army major, is slightly balder and fatter than he once was. Wilmet would like to think she has changed rather less. Her interest wanders to the nearby Anglo-catholic church, where at last she can neglect her comfortable household in the more serious-minded company of three unmarried priests, and, of course, Piers Longridge, a man of an unfathomably different character altogether.

What do you think? I'm at a loss and may resort to playing eeny meeny miny mo without your assistance... Which -if any- are you most intrigued by and does Barbara Pym appeal to you as a writer?

Julie & Julia pt. 2

I reviewed Julie & Julia by Julie Powell here a few months ago and this week managed to see the big-screen adaptation, directed by Nora Ephron and starring Meryl Streep and Amy Adams as Julia Child and Julie Powell, respectively. I won tickets to a screening given by Duckworth Publishers who have commissioned My Life in France, the memoir by Julia Child that the film is also based on.

As one of my first promotional events hosted by a publisher, this was a very chic one held in the Sony Screening Room in Central London with free drinks, nibbles, film, and copies of the memoir! We had such a fun night and my boyfriend (who is assuredly in touch with his feminine side and confessed lover of "chick-flicks") LOVED the movie as did I. Thank you to Duckworth for the opportunity.

Where the novel Julie & Julia is obviously top-heavy in its concentration upon Julie Powell's blog experiment -524 recipes from Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking in 365 days- Julie & Julia is an equal examination of Julie, the aspiring writer and amateur cook and Julia, who is at the time learning to cook in Paris and who later becomes a published writer, in her own right. The year in each of their lives is alternately shown and cleverly paralleled, in their cooking successes and failures, their burgeoning writing career, and both their marriages. The synchronicity in their stories is well achieved and emphasised onscreen.

The aspects of the reading experience that I didn't enjoy so much: the dryness at times of the recipe descriptions and the relentless coarseness of Julie, were absent in the film experience. I found the same funny bits still hilariously funny (the lobsters scene and the Powell's cat especially) but it was the Julia Child parts of the film, those taken from the book I haven't read -My Life in France- that I enjoyed most. Meryl Streep embodies the character of Julia Child and is incredibly engaging, heart-warming, and highly amusing. I loved her trials and tribulations and, although interested in the cooking, was engrossed in Julia (and Julie's) attempts to write and publish; with a demonstrable interest in the publishing industry, those parts were illuminating to me.


Above all this is a heartwarming film with two highly intriguing female characters. It isn't often where you can say that the film version is better than the book but this one had the advantage of being based on two books, which definitely helped. I look forward to reading my copy of My Life in France by Julia Child to discover more about a fascinating woman. As you probably know from reading my blog, I seldom read non-fiction, biographies, or memoirs but this one excites me; Meryl Streep imbued Julia Child with such warmth, humour and pathos, that I want to know the real Julia Child in her own words.

I also plan to read the novel Heartburn by Nora Ephron, who directed the film as well as wrote the screenplay adapted from both Julie and Julia's memoirs. Heartburn is also, coincidentally, a cookery-orientated book and a Virago Modern Classic; it is one I had forgotten about until I persuaded Verity to buy it on our bookshop trip, and thought it only fair that I read my own copy to compare notes. If either My Life in France or Heartburn are as witty and heartwarming as the film version of the character from one and the creation by the writer of the other then I am in for exceptionally engaging reading. Have you read either? would you like to after having seen the film, Julie & Julia, or from reading my review?

The Green Shelf

I have referred in the past to my burgeoning collection of the original bottle-green Virago Modern Classics. My green shelf photographed above is actually only about half of the ones I have so far collected with some double-backed and others in a pile elsewhere. I also have about another thirty Virago Modern Classics with modern covers.

I began collecting VMCs last May through a love for the imprint, intrigue, and a compulsion for collecting. I have collected some beautiful and rare editions (the green editions are around twenty-five years old usually), with some beautifully chosen artwork on their covers (I'll dedicate a post to that at a a later date), but, at this rate, I am collecting far more than I am reading.

As there are close to 550 titles on the Virago Modern Classics list (Verity's Virago Venture is an exciting attempt to read all of the titles that feature on the list in a Virago edition) and because I recently -and unwisely- worked out that I probably only have 5200 books left to read in my life-time (based on living to eighty years old and reading a conservative 100 books a year), it is unlikely that I will read all of the VMCs. As I live in a metropolis where space is definitely an issue, it seems impractical to collect for the sake of collecting. I intend to curb my collecting of VMCs to only the ones that I have a desire to read and weed my current collection of the ones that I don't; I imagine that there will still be at least one green shelf amongst my books from now on but no future green bookcase.

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.

Book Cover Collecting

If you managed to read my guest post for Verity's Virago Venture then you will know that I am hopeless at resisting a pretty book cover and if you read my blog regularly then that probably didn't escape your notice; I also enjoy owning matching sets of books and today's blog post covers both. Virago Press have over the last few years begun marketing beautifully illustrated re-issues of books that feature on their Virago Modern Classics list by some of their most popular authors; first came new editions of the Angela Carter books that they publish, followed by Muriel Spark (some of which are still forthcoming) and now they are in the process of publishing new editions of Barbara Pym's novels. These series of books had to be part of my collection as I find the artwork stunning.

I would have entitled this post "book cover coveting" but have purchased all of the ones published thus far. This week saw the re-issue of both The Comforters (her debut novel) by Muriel Spark and Some Tame Gazelle by Barbara Pym, hence the timely post.

The Muriel Spark copies are photographed above and I have read the first to be published, Symposium and Loitering with Intent. Expect to read a review of The Comforters soon as I expect that it will be a book that I love based on the fabulous synopsis:

In Muriel Spark's fantastic first novel, the only things that aren't ambiguous are her matchless originality and glittering wit. Caroline Rose is plagued by the tapping of typewriter keys and the strange, detached narration of her every thought and action. She has an unusual problem - she realises she is in a novel. Her fellow characters are also possibly deluded: Laurence, her former lover, finds diamonds in a loaf of bread - could his elderly grandmother really be a smuggler? And Baron Stock, her bookseller friend, believes he is on the trail of England's leading Satanist.

To introduction to this new copy written by Ali Smith can be read here.

The cover art (and lettering) for these editions is done by Martin Haake and the cover for Symposium can be found on his website. Re-issues of both A Far Cry from Kensington and Memento Mori are forthcoming in this series.

As yet I have not read any Barbara Pym novels but I have heard delightful things and look forward to reading these funny novels.

The cover illustrations in their case are courtesy of Jessie Ford and I think they are fabulously colourful and amusing. An article this week accused these covers of belonging to the '"chick-lit" genre' (the photograph featured is the cover for A Glass of Blessings, which will be published later this year as well as other Pym titles) but I don't agree. Virago have been guilty of publishing dubious covers for other VMC reissued titles that can be completely misleading (see this) but I think that the Pym covers are fresh and fun and to be taken in the witty light of their content.

The commissioned covers for both Spark and Pym are reminiscent of the wonderful covers and typography for Virago's Angela Carter titles by Roxanna Bikadoroff, some of which are photographed below. These are by far my favourite illustrated covers and I upgraded my Angela Carter collection to include these editions as they encapsualte her rich, lush, and bizarre creations. I think this is an admirable marketing ploy and coup for Virago.

Roxanna Bikadoroff is also the illustrator for the North American Penguin copies of Angela Carter's work, a fact that I am amazed I did not realise sooner as I also have a couple of those copies from across the pond. I found a great blog post by Caustic Cover Critic that features images of some of those editions (look at the very clever Penguin logos). It interests and pleases me greatly that Carter can now be universally identified (well, despite for the Vintage editions of her work. I love Vintage Books but their Carter covers don't excite me nearly as much as the ones photographed).

I hope you have enjoyed today's foray into the wonderful world of cover art.

Guest Post

I have written a guest post for Verity's Virago Venture on the beautiful covers of Angela Carter's The Magic Toyshop, which Verity read and reviewed this week. Please read it (I had great fun writing it and there are lovely covers photographed) and support Verity in her personal reading challenge, which is something I highly admire as the Virago Modern Classics list is a LONG one with close to 550 books on it. I wish Verity success and look forward to future collaborations, especially Persephone Reading Week.

The Optimist's Daughter

Synopsis (from back cover): The people of Mount Salus, Mississippi always felt good about Judge McKelva. He was a quiet, solid reassuring figure, just as a judge should be. Then, ten years after his first wife's death, he marries the frivolous young Wanda Fay. No-one can understand his action, not least his beloved daughter, Laurel, who finds it hard to accept the new bride. It is only some years later, when circumstance brings her back to her childhood home, that Laurel stirs old memories and comes to understand the peculiarities of her upbringing, and the true relationship between her parents and herself.

The Optimist's Daughter is a reflective, poignant novel of independence and love, for which Eudora Welty, one of America's gretest contemporary Southern writers, was awarded the Pulitzer Prize.

Have you ever read a book where your preconceived notions are something different? From its cover (a photograph of the author as a young girl) and from the above description I felt somewhat misled by the plot description for The Optimist's Daughter by Eudora Welty. Both suggest that Laurel is a child when her mother, Becky, dies and then ten years later her father marries Fay and she is perhaps then entering adolescence and finds a new stepmother difficult to accept. Then "some years later" Laurel returns to her childhood home as an adult. However, this is not the case; instead it is only the year before the novel's setting -when Judge McKelva is seventy, his daughter forty, and Fay younger than that- when the Judge and his new wife marry and a year later when Laurel travels to New Orleans to assist her father post-operation for a detached retina and a few weeks later travels to her childhood home in Mount Sulas, Mississippi, for his funeral following his decline and counting down to death.

How peculiar that such a mistake -sheer laziness, in my opinion- would be made in the simple description of the novel; it is not an egregious error, by any means, nor did it affect my enjoyment of the novel but its inaccuracy is frustrating. I wanted to point his out before reviewing the novel as it bothered me.

Anyway, Laurel is a middle-aged women who is a designer in Chicago; her and Fay do not know each other, let alone like one another. Fay is obnoxious and comes across as an immature, spoiled child and Laurel isn't characterised as anything really... she comes across as a little cold but I think it is to convey the numbness of grief; she is, after all, still grieving for her mother as well as now her father. The strength of Welty's description also lies in the fringe characters, Fay's family -who are not as despicable as she is- and the residents of Mount Sulas, who rally around Laurel. Apparently this is the most autobiographical of Welty's novels and her observations of the townspeople are wittily realised but Fay is truly her tour de force.

I read this both because it was a Pulitzer winner, the first read since I announced my challenge, and because it is a Virago Modern Classic and the plot appealed to me; with so many challenges on the go just now I am trying to read books that tick a few boxes as opposed to just a book that I would love to read (this is only whilst I'm working my way the Booker longlist). I wasn't disappointed as it is a great book and a short read. I think perhaps that it is one that would bear re-reading once I am older -perhaps Laurel's age- and appreciative of the pain of grief and power of memory.

As it is, without much identification with the plot I appreciated the novel greatly for its brevity and economy of writing, the beauty of that writing, and its poignancy in tone. There are some wonderfully written passages and I would recommend this novel especially to those who simply love good writing.

The train gathered speed as swiftly as it had brought itself to a halt. It went out of sight while the wagon, loaded with thelong box now, and attended by a stranger in a business suit, was wheeled slowly back along the platform and steered to where a hearse, backed in among the cars, stood with its door wide.

In the lateness of the night, their two voices reading to each other where she could hear them, never letting a silence divide or interrupt them, combined into one unceasing voice and wrapped her around as she listened, as still as if she were asleep. She was sent to sleep under a velvety cloak of words, richly patterned and stitched with gold, straight out of a fairy tale, while they went reading on into her dreams.

But there was nothing of her mother here for Fay to find, or for herself to retrieve. The only traces there were of anybody were the drops of nail varnish. Laurel studiously went on work on them; she lifted them from the surface of the desk and rubbed it afterwards with wax until nothing was left to show of them, either.

The Group

The first time I came across mention of The Group by Mary McCarthy was on The Guardian's 1000 Novels Everyone Must Read list and I instantly wanted to read it. Its listing described it as:

An affectionate portrayal of eight Vassar-educated girls making their way in Depression-era New York — and a hilarious lampooning of the men who hang around them. The novel remained on the New York Times bestseller list for two years and still strikes a chord. Imagine Sex and the City with a social conscience, with characters saying things like: "But before we were married, we had an understanding that he should read Kafka and Joyce and Toynbee and the cultural anthropologists … so that semantically we can have the same referents".

I was disappointed to find that the book had fallen out of print here in the UK but heartened to discover that Virago are re-issuing the novel later this year. When I watched this great interview with Sarah Waters in May and found out that she was re-reading The Group and thought it "a fantastic book" I sought it out from the library. Now that I have read it I intend to still purchase a copy of the Virago reprint and reread it to unearth more of its gem-like quality. The Group is the type of novel that I would love to write.

I had preconceptions when I began reading it (Sex and the City comparisons will do that and I love Sex and the City) and expected the group to be engaging with one another often, to all be given equal place in the narrative, for it to be wise but light and I was wrong on all counts, except for the wisdom. The Group is densely intelligent and to begin with I found it a little dry and not exactly dated but definitely telling of the 1930s setting (it was first published in 1963); however The Group is a satire and a highly witty one at that. The humour took me a little while to get but the discussions on motherhood had me wiping tears from my eyes. The novel is highly progressive in its open treatment of motherhood, sex, contraception, and marriage and also discusses Socialism and Communism, Lesbianism, race, and mental illness amongst the socio-economic backdrop of 1930s New York with a predominantly affluent and educated cast.

There is so much information given in the novel and I understand why Sarah Waters regards it as one of her favourites with its attention to historical detail and evocation of the time period. I wonder how influential The Group was on her own writing; there is one scene at lunch in the dining room of a mental hospital that greatly reminded me of a scene from Fingersmith.

I loved The Group and its feminist politics. I read Valley of the Dolls by Jacqueline Susann (a Virago Modern Classic) last year and loved it despite, and even because of, its "trashiness"; Valley of the Dolls is an iconic and often melodramatic feminist treatise, The Group is also just as seminal and undisputably better written. I adored the ending and the structure- the novel's events (each chapter an individual and important event in one of the girls' lives) framed by the wedding of one of the group Kay to Harald at the opening and the funeral of one of the couple at its close. Not all eight girls are given equal page time and the novel more or less revolves around Kay and Harald and how their marriage impacts on the other girls. The book's events occur between '33 when the group graduate and '40, after World War II has broken out in Europe and before America's involvement. I was disappointed at first that Lakey, who was the most fascinating (to the group) group member and intriguing and compelling character (to the reader), didn't feature and was given her own story but the end of the novel and Lakey's return from Europe (where she spent the majority of the narrative excluding the framing events) more than made up for her literal, but not figurative, absence throughout. It wasn't until the last few chapters that I went from liking and admiring this novel to loving it; it's testimony to how an ending can often make or break a book.

A sample of the satire on motherhood approaches and of the language:

Accidentally she had put her finger on the truth, like accidentally hitting a scab. She was doing 'the most natural thing in the world', suckling her young, and for some peculiar reason it was completely unnatural, strained, and false, like a posed photograph. Everyone in the hospital knew this, her mother knew it, her visitors knew it; that was why they were all talking about her nursing and pretending that it was exciting, when it was not, except as a thing to talk about. In reality, what she had been doing was horrid, and right now, in the nursery, a baby's voice was rising to tell her so- the voice, in fact, that she had been refusing to listen to, though she had heard it for at least a week. It was making a natural request, in this day and age; it was asking for a bottle.

Has anyone else read The Group and loved it as I did? Has anyone seen the 1966 Sidney Lumet adpatation of the book, starring Candice Bergen as Lakey?

Recent Arrivals

I know how much you like to admire new books so I thought I would share the arrivals this week. Look out for reviews of these books in the coming days, weeks, and possibly months (have you being keeping count of my recent acquisitions and library loot?!)

Captivated: J. M. Barrie, the Du Mauriers and the Dark Side of Neverland by Piers Dudgeon is a book that I have been coveting for some time (since reading Daphne by Justine Picardie) and which Nymeth kindly chose from my wish-list and sent me after I won her Weekly Geeks quiz.

I Served the King of England by Bohumil Hrabal was sent to me by Vintage Books after I requested a copy of their pretty re-issue. Hrabal is a Czech writer I studied during a Slavonic literature course (I read and really enjoyed his most famous work, Closely Observed Trains) and have been desperately wanting to read this title.

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath was kindly sent by Faber at the bequest of Simon at Savidge Reads as it is the title chosen by him for next month's book group. I read this a decade ago (when I was going through my own period of teenage angst) and looking forward to a re-read. It's a lovely new cover -part of the Faber Firsts series to celebrate their 80th Birthday- and apologies for decapitating the debutante with a stray patch of sunlight!

The Wake by Jeremy Page is an ARC from Waterstone's and I am intrigued by its premise and looking forward to reading it (I intentionally sought this one out because I was excited).

The Optimist's Daughter by Eudora Welty is both a Pulitzer Prize winner, which I need to read for my personal challenge, and a Virago Modern Classic, which I collect. Recently I have been inspired (or should that be tempted?) to buy and read more Viragoes from reading Verity's Virago Venture. I would have sought out a green copy but I found this cover too pretty and reminiscent of the cover for this book, which I also own.

Henrietta's War: News from the Home Front 1939-42 by Joyce Dennys - published earlier this month as part of The Bloomsbury Group series I could resist the temptation no longer to purchase a copy. I have read so many effusively lovely things about this book here, here, and here and with such high praise the pressure is on to read and love this book... no, really, I can't wait to lose myself in it and don't think I will... wait.

The Other Hand by Chris Cleave is a book that I first read about (in the Guardian, I think), subsequently added to my wish-list in December of last year and then promptly forgot about until I read Claire's review in May (the book is published across the pond with a different title), added the paperback to my wish-list, then read Simon's review last week and realised that I couldn't wait to purchase it any longer. Now I see that Jackie has just read it too with a review pending so it will only be a matter of time until I pick it up! It has one of those vague, intriguing, shrouded-in-mystery descriptions that always peaks my literary curiosity. I am, however, approaching it cautiously as we all know what can happen when we anticipate a book with too much hype surrounding it.

I really must go and read now.

The Crowded Street

Are you ever exposed to a book that you know you have to buy there and then and will subsequently make a special trip to a bookstore to obtain it so that you don't have to wait for online postage? I'm sure it's not just me...

I listened to the first installment of the BBC Radio 7 dramatisation of The Crowded Street by Winifred Holtby last week and in the opening few minutes I knew that this was a book that I had to purchase and devour and instantly made plans to visit Persephone Books that day for a copy.

The Crowded Street is one of those rare but wonderful books that is both a Virago Modern Classic and a Persephone (#76), meaning that it once was published in bottle-green and fell out of print but was rescued by Persephone and now appears in dove-grey (another title for which this is the case is A Very Great Profession by Persephone founder, Nicola Beauman). I collect both VMCs and Persephones but as there are a number of Holtby titles that were published by Virago I intended to track all of them down but needing to read it now (and coveting Persephones just the same) I made an outing to the Bloomsbury shop and had the book in my hands that afternoon, along with a beautiful Bloomsbury postcard that coincidentally has something in common with the book (ahem, answers on a postcard will take place during Persephone Reading Week).

I began to read the book on the train journey home (temporarily laying aside my current book) and once home settled down to read it. I was lucky enough to do so with tea and M&S naughty strawberry tarts; why they are branded "naughty" I couldn't tell you as they are petite pâtisseries... perhaps having one is indulgent but both is sheer decadence. Indeed the afternoon of tea, pastries, and this book were a naughty delight.

Very much a Persephone book, The Crowded Street is an inter-war novel about women and their relationships with one another. The central protagonist is Muriel Hammond and her relationships with her socially aspiring mother; her impetuous sister, Connie; her socialite childhood friend, Claire Duquesne; and her idealist, social reformer friend, Delia Vaughan, all of whom are "types". The novel is about what is expected from life and what is expected of us -the pressure to please and to conform- and ultimately freedom from these personal and societal constraints. It is a bildungsroman and also a roman à clef, as the conflict Muriel feels between duty to her family and public service is what Holtby experienced herself. It is also a feminist novel about the emphasis on "sex success" in snobbish, gossippy Marshington, the suffocating home that Muriel later rejects. In many ways The Crowded Street appears to be ahead of its time with women choosing not to marry and railing against the stigma of spinsterhood as well as the subplot of sex outwith marriage and pregnancy out of wedlock, although ultimately those events result in forced marriage and tragedy.

The structure of the novel is divided into four sections (after the prologue concerning Muriel's first dance): entitled Clare, Connie, Delia, Muriel and revolve around the former three women's influence on Muriel. More time could have been spent on the latter two narratives, I thought, as they were to me the most interesting (and autobriographical). Connie's section was melodramatic and there is speculation that her time at Thraile Farm with the odd Todds is the inspiration for Stella Gibbon's satire, Cold Comfort Farm. There is however no sign of the something nasty in the woodshed.

Winifred Holtby lived with fellow Virago author, Vera Brittain, in 1920s London and their life-long friendship is the focus of the latter's autobiographical novel , Testament of Friendship. Moreover, I had the impression that Muriel's friend, Delia, was based upon Vera Brittain and this was confirmed in reading the preface after finishing the novel.

Favourite and central quotes:

"Then suddenly we find ourselves left alone in a dull crowded street with no one caring and our lives unneeded, and all the fine things that we meant to do, like toys that a child has laid aside."

"The thing that matters is to take your life into your own hands and live it, accepting responsibility for failure or success. The really fatal thing to do is to let other people make your choices for you, and then to blame them if your scheme should fail and they despise you for the failure.

I now want to read more Winifred Holtby and add to my burgeoning Virago collection but I am attempting (woefully) to curb buying any more until I have read more of the ones that I already have. Verity's Virago Venture is weakening my resolve however and more Winifred Holtby may feature in the near future!

Reading The Crowded Street has also whetted my appetite for Persephone Reading Week and will inspire one challenge, hinted to above.

Olivia by "Olivia"

I have mentioned previously my love for Virago Modern Classics and my burgeoning collection. Olivia by "Olivia", the pseudonym of Dorothy Strachey (sister of Lytton Strachey), was one of the Viragoes that I relentlessly hunted down in a rare green spine, and not merely for the beautiful cover featuring the Gustav Klimt painting, Mäda Primavesi. The synopsis for the novella intrigued me and I knew it would be one that I would enjoy reading. From the back cover:

In this famous novel, first published in 1949, a woman recollects an extraordinary year "when life was, if not at its fullest, at any rate at its most poignant . . . the year when I first became conscious of myself". Olivia is sixteen years old when she goes to Les Avons, a finishing school near Paris, run by two Mademoiselles. It is a place of few rules, of laughter and lively conversation -- a welcome surprise for a reserved young English girl. But the gaiety and freedom of Les Avons is only surface deep and emotional liaisons and jealousies form the hidden curriculum. Very quickly Olivia too is caught up in its spell, overwhelmed by her increasing infatuation with Mademoiselle Julie. Here she describes the powerful allegiances and repressed desires which smoulder at this secluded school, and the intensity and desperation of adolescent love.

Olivia, the protagonist, develops a crush on Mademoiselle Julie, who treats her as teacher's pet. Mademoiselle Clara is jealous and petty until her death, suicide or murder unclear. Olivia is a melodramatic potboiler of adolescent obsession but it is engaging and kept me occupied of a weekend afternoon. The language is quite lush at times, despite the hyperbole, and evokes the intoxicating passion of first "love", the fervent and all-consuming infatuation of a young girl for her teacher. Her rapture and ardor are intense and the pervasive alliances and jealousies of the Mademoiselles is insidious. The unsettling nature of the teachers reminded me of Jean Brodie.

I was also greatly reminded of Colette's Claudine à l'école, which was published more than thirty years prior to Olivia, but it was the latter that was considered ground-breaking and made its way onto the Publishing Triangle's 100 Best Gay & Lesbian Novels. Further reminders, albeit subtler, of convent rather than school set literature in Diderot's The Nun and VMC #1 Frost in May by Antonia White. Moreover, I realised that I still haven't read Lillian Hellman's 1934 play, The Children's Hour, nor watched the big-screen adaptation with Audrey Hepburn and Shirley McClaine, about the two boarding school headmistresses whose careers and lives are destroyed by a vindictive pupil who accuses them of Lesbianism.

Olivia was published anonymously by the Leonard and Virginia Woolf founded Hogarth Press in 1949. Rosamond Lehmann, another Virago Press author, was an enthusiastic supporter and perhaps found similarities with her own famous campus novel of lesbian attraction and affection, Dusty Answer.

I enjoyed Olivia and its capture of the intensity of teenage infatuation and crushes, although as Olivia says:

"My case was so different, so unheard of. Really no one had ever heard of a thing, except as a joke. Yes, people used to make joking allusions to "school-girl crushes". But I knew well enough that my "crush" was not a joke."

This holds particular resonance for me, as I am sure it would for anyone who was once a school-girl with a crush. Olivia's affection for Mademoiselle Julie, however, is ambiguously not necessarily a case of unrequited love.

I will leave you with a longer passage:

I have often wondered what share Racine had in lighting the flame that began to burn in my heart that night, or what share proximity. If she hadn't read just that play or if she hadn't called me up by chance to sit so near her, in such immediate contact, would be inflammable stuff which I carried so unsuspectingly within me have remained perhaps outside the radius of the kindling spark and never caught fire at all? But probably not; sooner or later, it was bound to happen.

Recent Acquisitions...

Yesterday I splurged a little and bought one book I have been wanting to read for some time; another that it a previous Man Booker winner and a title that my friend raves about; and a third Pulitzer-winning novel that was marked down by 75%! Each in a different bookshop.

I visited the Persephone shop in Bloomsbury first of all and purchased Katherine Mansfield's Journal, which has been at the top of my wish-list recently. It was a fly-by visit (preventing me from splurging further) as I took the scenic route and managed to become somewhat lost; as I was late to meet a friend my visit was execution only and I found the book, looked for the Persephone bookbag and was disappointed to find a plain, beige, jute one rather than the pretty grey, paid and departed. Just as well because when it comes to Persephone books I resemble a child in a sweetshop.

Later on in the evening I popped into Foyle's on Charing Cross Road for a wander and to buy The Bone People by Keri Hulme. I had already checked that they had it in stock on the website as I am desperate to read this after discussing the Man Booker winners recently. This novel from New Zealand won the Booker in 1985 and my friend, who read it last year, really raved about it so I needed to lay my hands on it quickly (and the library doesn't have a copy).

Another friend and I then popped across the road and into Borders so that I could sneakily read the Johnny Depp feature interview in this month's US Vanity Fair (£4.50 for a magazine cannot be justified, even if it is imported and contains the luscious Mr Depp). As we entered I spied copies of Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout with huge "75 % off" red stickers on the front cover; I calculated that the book would cost £1.75 and that was an offer I couldn't refuse. This novel in stories has been appearing across the blogosphere since it won the Pulitzer and I am looking forward to reading it.

Moreover, as I am discussing recent acquisitions, I should really show off the beautiful Viragoes I have managed to acquire over the last few weeks. My Virago collection has bred and spawned since last I spoke of it, mainly through immense generosity from members of the librarything Virago group and from eagle-eye spotting out and about and on ebay. Most of my Virago collection is shown in the photographs at the bottom of the page. The titles pictured immediately below are the ones I acquired recently, all ones that I was anxiously on the look out for and I can't wait to read them, but first I have to tackle and overcome the huge pile of library books calling to me, "read me, Seymour, read me".

A wander to the bookshop

Today I wandered along to the bank to deposit a cheque and to our wee (and fabulous) grocery shop to pick up some fresh bread, a Mother's Day card and a bottle of vanilla essence. The highlight of the trip though was in between stops wandering into the local bookshop. Whenever I have a chance, I drop in; I'm not in the position (or even the inspired mood) to purchase anything at present but I like to support small businesses by making them look busy ... or so I tell myself.

Anyway, my local bookshop is shown on the left-hand side. No, I don't know why there is a giant "42" in the photograph or why the dog is fixated on it ... I can only imagine that the dog is querying 42 being the answer to the question.

It's always lovely to have a browse amongst the new titles, make a mental note of ones to add to the collection at a later date, and to scour the second-hand stacks for those telling green covers; nothing from my watch list today unfortunately - I may have had to raid the piggy bank if there was! I am also on the hunt for what I imagine will be an elusive green Virago copy of I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, one of my favourite books, let alone Virago. Alas, I re-emerged empty-handed as I so often have of late but just now is not the time for buying books but for reading them.

Virago Modern Classics

I consider myself to be a bit of an aspiring bibliophile; I own an impressive amount of books and enjoy collecting them. Since May I have consciously started to collect the old -and quintessential- green spined Virago Modern Classics (I started to collect Persephones at the same time). Above is a photograph I recently took of the VMCs I have acquired so far. I have a few more at home in Glasgow and about double the amount in other editions: the newly published pastel coloured Viragos from the VMC list, 5/8 of the beautiful harback designer textile covered 30th Anniversary Virago Modern Classics and my separate Angela Carter collection boasts a few Viragos (as well as a couple of the green ones above). When I am more financially stable I plan to add and add and add to my burgeoning collection but with a list of over 500 titles, it may take me some time to track them all down! My pride and joy is The Brontes Went to Woolworths, which is quite rare and normally expensive, but which I managed to snag in Oxfam books for £2.49! Luckily (for other people) Bloomsbury are reprinting it later this year, as it is a lovely joyous read about the wonders of imagination, but I do adore my green copy.

As an end-note, these are the VMCs I am especially on the look out for in green:

Lolly Willowes or the Loving Huntsman by Sylvia Townsend Warner
Poor Cow by Nell Dunn
The Enchanted April by Elizabeth Von Arnim
She Done Him Wrong by Mae West
Olivia by Olivia
My Mortal Enemy by Willa Cather (the Klimt cover)
Love by Elizabeth Von Arnim
A Model Childhood by Christa Wolf
The Return of the Soldier by Rebecca West
The Weddingby Dorothy West
Any green Margaret Atwood books
The Aloe by Katherine Mansfield
The Camomile by Catherine MacFarlane Carswell