Paula Vince's Blog: The Vince Review, page 28

'Anne of the Island' by L.M. Montgomery

The One with all the Proposals

Anne begins to study at college, along with Gilbert Blythe and Charlie Sloane. She pools resources with three girlfriends, Priscilla, Stella and Philippa, to rent a charming little house called Patty's Place. Stella's elderly aunt Jamesina comes to be their house mother. During her years of study, Anne receives no less than six marriage proposals! She does a bit of dithering and needs some serious romantic course correction before finally ending on a high note with a very swoon-worthy ending.

What I appreciated even more than before.
1) Moving out of our comfort zones is very much the book's early theme. It would have been easy to stay at her beloved Green Gables teaching small schools, but Anne was prepared make the sacrifice of stepping out into the great unknown for a worthy goal, which was getting a tertiary education.
2) The story wasn't all the smooth sailing my youthful bias recalled. A couple of times, Anne's finances were looking too dicey to continue, and she would have needed to withdraw if funds weren't mustered in ways you'll see.

3) The bluestocking shaming of smart girls was well and truly over. Phil says she aims to get a Math scholarship to impress her boyfriend Jonas, and Aunt Jamesina insinuates that in bygone days, she'd be trying to hide her cleverness rather than flaunting it. Three cheers for a more enlightened era, and for girls with the freedom to use their intelligence.
4) The love affair of Phil and Jonas was so satisfying! What an awesome attraction of different backgrounds which could have filled volumes on its own. I must have glossed over their charm and appeal when I was young. My only complaint this time is that we didn't see far more of these two. If LMM wrote a spin-off just about these two, I'd read it. 

5) Mostly I love the idea of their pooled living arrangement, which they all found so much fun. Each girl went in to Patty's Place knowing full well that it would be a temporary arrangement. Life does seem to come to us in seasons or blocks like that. When we've lived long enough, we can start to step back and observe each of them more objectively. I felt very sad when my era of being a homeschooling parent and having our nephew live with us in a great house in the Adelaide Hills came to an end. But this new era of living near the beach now the kids are older has its benefits too.
6) They sure are a bunch of poetry spouting teens. Times have changed, and not necessarily for the better. I'd like to see a resurgence of lovely quotes in normal conversation, not just from young people but from everyone. In our time, it comes across as either weird on one end of the spectrum or super show-offish on the other. Sadly, even those who might feel inclined would choose to keep their mouths shut.  
7) We have a wonderfully romantic ending. It's what I call ending a book on a high crescendo (sigh of satisfaction). I've read somewhere that LMM found writing romantic bits never came naturally to her. She far preferred comic moments. Well, I'm glad she pushed past her comfort zone sometimes. 
What I wasn't a big fan of this time round.
1) The attempt to bump off poor Rusty. I can't believe the girls tried to chloroform a poor, affectionate cat who did no crime other than taking a fancy to Anne. My feline loving heart says nope, that's not on! I know the times were different back then, but I found it hard to think of the Patty's Place household as lovely young women again after that

'The Bee and the Orange Tree' by Melissa Ashley

This keenly-awaited second book from Melissa Ashley, author of The Birdman’s Wife, restores another remarkable, little-known woman to her rightful place in history, revealing the dissent hidden beneath the whimsical surfaces of Marie Catherine’s fairy tales. The Bee and the Orange Tree is a beautifully lyrical and deeply absorbing portrait of a time, a place, and the subversive power of the imagination.
MY THOUGHTS: I spotted this beautiful book in tip-top condition on an outdoor bargain table of a second hand bookshop along the coast. You bet I jumped on it! I loved Melissa Ashley's first book, based on the life of nature artist Elizabeth Gould. This book looks just as gorgeous on its cover and end notes. The blurb explains how she brings another overshadowed woman from history's annals to light. Shining light on the obscurity of brilliant, forgotten females seems to be Melissa Ashley's mission, and I couldn't wait to get stuck into it. Sadly, compared to The Birdman's Wife, the story itself fell a bit flat for me. 
There are three main characters whose points of view we shift between throughout the story.
Marie Catherine d'Aulnoy is (really was!!) one of France's celebrated story tellers, with a string of fairy tale volumes to her name. She holds fashionable literary salons in her household, and has a large following. However, she also suffers from writer's block and gout in her feet, two painful thorns which are getting her down since she's jumped the huge hurdle of being able to separate from her no-good husband and support herself financially with her writing. Her latest campaign is an attempt to save her best friend Nicola from execution.
Nicola Tiquet is an elegant socialite, daughter of a great publishing magnate, and victim of domestic violence. Her abusive husband also keeps her imprisoned in her own room. One day, Nicola is arrested for his attempted murder, although she's truly innocent. The trumped-up conspiracy theory faces her like a brick wall, and she's sentenced for beheading unless her friend Marie Catherine is able to use her influence to help. 
Marie Catherine's youngest daughter Angelina was brought up in a convent, but now she's been withdrawn to replace her mother's secretary. Yet although the plan suits her well enough, Angelina nurses resentment toward her mother for leaving her to be brought up by the nuns in the convent for so long. She also has hang-ups about her own life purpose and identity, which she's unable to discuss with anybody until she meets her new friend Alphonse, a talented writer and follower of her mother. Angelina's is very much a story of self-invention and metamorphosis.
Our glimpse into Paris around the turn in the 1700s contains all the right costumes, make-up, transport, food and aromas. The idea of executions being open to general spectators horrifies me. The state and church of the time are shown up as the two bad boys, full of sinister corruption, as Ashley evidently intended. Yet I never felt we were transported entirely to a different time and place, and decided it must be because of the characters. 
I think part of the reason it falls short is that the secretiveness integral to the plot is being held by the three main characters whose points of view we share. This defeats the purpose of having point of view characters, if we're not allowed total access into their head spaces. There is always a feeling with all three that something is being held back, keeping us at arm's length. It works fine with secondary characters, but maybe not with such key characters as these three, especially Marie Catherine. If she's going to hold her hands so close to her chest for so long, then we don't really get to know her, or care for her as much as we otherwise might. 
The romantic dynamics between the pair who turn out to represent the bee and the orange tree is probably the story's highlight. There are a few surprises woven in, but the mutual attraction between Angelina and her mother's young protege Alphonse kept me turning pages. Whether or not Alphonse was a man of his own time, he's definitely a man of ours. It makes quite an interesting thread, although there's not a great deal of substance to the attraction when I really think about it.
Overall, the winding up of all the loose threads left me saying, 'Well, so much for all that.' Having discovered Baroness Marie Catherine d'Aulnoy in history's hidden pages, Melissa Ashley could have chosen to zoom in on any aspect of her brilliant legacy. Her choice to recreate her as a whiny, limpy lady with a lost mojo and dysfunctional family is a bit puzzling. If we ask ourselves, 'Did anything exceptional really happen in this story?' the answer is no. But it was interesting enough to keep reading, and definitely worth the $5 I paid for it. If I'd bought it at the brand new price of $35 though, I might have felt a bit ripped off. 
My favourite line is possibly when Angelina tells her mother, Marie Catherine, 'Imagine I'm a magical mirror. I can reflect your ideas back to you. Help to clarify them even.' What a perfect picture of what an assistant or editor does! In this story of course, Marie Catherine doesn't really find herself in the position to take up her daughter's offer, because she's too stressed about her writer's block. And eventually Angelina withdraws the offer anyway, in favour of striking out on a creative career herself. Still, it's there as a great analogy for anyone who wants to take it on. 
I'll look forward to whatever Melissa Ashley writes next. Everyone's entitled to a miss, and this wasn't a terrible one. 

'Anne of Avonlea' by L.M. Montgomery

Or 'The One Where she teaches school.'Warning: These recaps may contain spoilers, but I consider old classics fair game. This is the second fortnight of my Anne-athon re-read through the entire series.
16-year-old Anne becomes the Avonlea school mistress. She and the other local teens set up the Village Improvement Society, hoping to spruce the place up where they can. Marilla adopts young twins, Davy and Dora Keith, because when their mother dies there is no closer relative. Anne finds time to dabble in a bit of matchmaking between some of her middle-aged neighbours.
What I appreciated even more than before.
1) One specific low key, bosom buddy friendship turned out to have far stronger roots than anyone thought. It's Marilla and Mrs Rachel Lynde. When Rachel's husband dies, it looks as if she'll have to live far away with her daughter, but Marilla steps up and invites her to relocate to Green Gables instead. They know each other well enough to devise methods to withdraw when they need personal space. But Marilla says, 'I'd rather put up with far worse faults than see Rachel go away from Avonlea.' I was really cheering for the pair of them here. It might not spring to our minds, but it's a friendship that rivals Anne and Diana's. 
2) Anne's spoken goal is both modest and great; the sort of thing any of us can aspire to. She says, 'I'd like to add some beauty to life. I don't exactly want to make people know more, but I'd like to make them have a pleasanter time because of me. To have some little joy or happy thought that would never have existed if I hadn't been born.' Bravo, if she can aspire to that in her era without internet or social media, we normal dudes of the 21st century have a far broader platform to make it happen.
3) Gilbert. Whenever he did make an appearance we all appreciated it, but they were surely sparser than many of us liked. Granted he did live away from home teaching at White Sands, which would have taken up a lot of his time. That was the result of his relinquishing the Avonlea school appointment in favour of Anne at the end of the first book. 
4) Mr Harrison. James A is one this book's heroes. Plain, straight-spoken and not concerned about making impressions, he's one of those endearing grumpy old man characters we all appreciate for a good reason. Ginger, his parrot, is a great and colourful pet too, although he has his enemies. 
5) Paul Irving. This gifted kid discovers that those who don't understand his creative and imaginative bent will brush him off as crazy. He learns through experience at a young age that narrow-minded human nature is quick to criticise anything way off its radar, and when you're the target, it hurts. But although he initially wonders if he really is crazy, he decides in favour of keeping up the daydreams that bring him such joy, but being extra cautious about who he shares them with. Yay, that's a major stand for someone who isn't even in his teens yet! I've got to say, Paul's Rock People rock too.     
6) Davy Keith. I adore this little boy for speaking out all the strange, contradictory and puzzling things in the world around him which grown-ups simply expect him to swallow without blinking. He's a person to call out a sacred cow when he sees one, and I'm sure it does adults a world of good to have to consider their replies. Oh boy, I get why Marilla considers him exhausting, especially at first, but what a pay-off she gets with his fresh and original daily observations. They surely help her mind to regain its youthful suppleness. 
What I wasn't a big fan of this time round.
1) Anne's method of influencing Davy's behaviour by comparing him to Paul Irving is dodgy to say the least, but hey, it worked super effective for her! Still, I'm sure no modern parent or teacher would advise us to do the same. The use of shaming and guilt trips as a means of control may cause resentment, inferiority complexes and other hang-ups which are rarely traced back to the influencers we love and admire. Hopefully Davy dodges these these side-effects in his later years.     
2) Sadly, LMM is never an author to discourage favouritism. Anne's favourite pupil is always abundantly clear to all, but if anyone needs it spelled out, it's Paul Irving! I didn't mind that so much, because he was on her wavelength, but it irritated me a bit that both Anne and Marilla admitted to preferring Davy over Dora. As a former quiet, compliant little girl, that seems a bit rough to me. Sure, she didn't have his sanguine, left of field character, but couldn't they have loved her equally for her own attributes, such as a strong desire to please them?  
3) I really hated the Jonas Day chapter. It was so sadly out of character. Basically, Anne was in a black mood all day and took it out on everyone who happened to be in her path, which doesn't end well when you're the school teacher. I know you might be thinking, 'Everyone's entitled to a bad mood here and there, because we're only human, so cut her some slack.' It's just that being on the receiving end could be so damaging to these kids who looked up to her and didn't have the emotional interpretation skills to reason that it was her problem and not theirs. I can't help wondering if it was PMS, although in no way did LMM suggest this. Those of us who can relate know we must get a handle on it, to prevent blasting out innocent bystanders. Dare I say it, if you can't control your emotions Anne, you shouldn't be teaching school!
Some great quotes
Anne: It does people good to have to do things they don't like... in moderation.
Anne: The bad things nearly always turn out ever so much better than you think. 
Mrs Rachel: You're never safe from being surprised till you're dead.
Anne: There are so many unpleasant things in the world already that there is no use in imagining any more. 
Marilla: It seems to me Anne, that you are never going to outgrow your fashion of having your heart set on things and then crashing down into despair because you don't get them. 
Marilla: Everyone has her own way of living. I used to think there was only one right way, but since I've had you and the twins to bring up, I don't feel so sure of it.
Miss Lavendar Lewis: That's the worst, or the best, of real life, Anne. It won't let you be miserable. It keeps on trying to make you comfortable, and succeeding, even when you're determined to be unhappy and romantic. 
Stayed tuned, because next up will be Anne of the Island
   

'In this House of Brede' by Rumer Godden

This extraordinarily sensitive and insightful portrait of religious life centers on Philippa Talbot, a highly successful professional woman who leaves her life among the London elite to join a cloistered Benedictine community.
MY THOUGHTS:I saw this book recommendation from other bloggers and Rumer Godden's name stirred good memories from decades ago, when I read some of her books for kids. But I never expected this story to sweep me into its rich world of devotion so thoroughly. In her intro, Phyllis Tickle calls it, 'the most accessible, accurate and sympathetic presentation of a monastic life in all of English literature.' I guess I'm surely not the only girl who ever wondered what it might have been like to be a nun. This story is like immersing ourselves among those women who feel truly called to be set apart for God. 
The pivotal character is Philippa Talbot, a corporation head who announces to her staff that she's dropping it all to make a major life change. She's going to become a Benedictine nun at Brede Abbey. Some of the long established nuns at Brede have misgivings that she's not cut from the right cloth. Compared with their fresh intake of other novices, Philippa is fairly old, streetwise and familiar with the sweet taste of worldly success. To put it in Star Wars terms, she's the Anakin Skywalker of the Abbey. But Philippa proves she's more successful at becoming a Benedictine nun than he was at being a Jedi Knight. And paradoxically, success is all about forgetting such a word even exists, and just immersing herself in the atmosphere of devotion and routine.  
To mention just a couple of the other great characters, there's beautiful young Sister Cecily, whose overbearing mother and ex-boyfriend Larry are set hard against her choice of vocation. And Abbess Catherine, who is reluctantly assigned head position when the more charismatic and popular Abbess Hester, who was something of a pocket rocket, suddenly dies. Poor Abbess Catherine discovers a shocking secret Abbess Hester hid behind their backs, and now she'll be the one to bear the brunt of the consequences.   
These assorted ladies are living the pattern of life prescribed centuries ago by Saint Benedict. It's an ever-turning wheel of prayer, praise and work. The daily liturgy or Office is the main thing, and other work fills the cracks between, rather than vice versa.   

I anticipated a book of fascinating revelation, because such spartan and repetitive lifestyles must have a huge pay-off, so to speak, and I wanted to dig to the bottom of it. But it turns out that's just the wrong approach to take for anyone really called to join their ranks. The women living beneath the roof of Brede Abbey know full well that anyone who enters with the idea of getting something out of it is bound to fail, but that itself is the prize they're after. Brede is a bubble that's free of the ambition and self-aggrandisement that wears us out in the world at large. 
The nuns' life is obviously not suitable for many. You have to opt out of several great milestones that confer fulfillment and identity, including spouses, kids and property. You also get singled out as an extremist or oddity. But in return, your interior life has room to flourish. You needn't worry about keeping up with the Jones', and even the minutiae of daily chores is taken off your hands. Your calendar is so structured that you need never waste time wondering what activity to prioritise on any given day. The seasons pass for you in a rich, meaningful cycle. You don't vie for pats on the back, because standing out as a noteworthy person is an unworthy goal. Therefore, you can shed the stress of accumulating followers, admirers and fans. Your role in the community is fluid enough that you're spared from the burden of earning yourself a special reputation. And the angst that others put into keeping up appearances simply isn't an issue for you.
'The veil, the habit, our cut hair under the cap, are meant for self-effacement. We need to be free of the preoccupations with self that plague other women, which is precisely why we did away with the time-consuming frills.' 
In our western world we're conditioned to think staying on the treadmill is an obligation we owe ourselves, so it rarely dawns on us that this is the source of the stress and anxiety that often seems to dog our steps. But for those brave enough to jump off, there's tranquility, deep peace and continuity. 'The life of the great monasteries flow as steadily as a river, no matter what rocks and crosscurrents there are.' Even though I certainly never had this calling, I can see how Philippa and her companions represent some aspect of the seeker in all of us.That's why this book is playing on my mind long after I've finished it. I love exploring the restfulness which comes when people are able to drop the striving to be somebody special or to make a name for ourselves.  
However, this novel shows that sudden changes can come from out of the blue, even in such a lifestyle. It's a restful book but also an interesting page turner. It'll surely be among my best reads of the year. 

'Anne of Green Gables' by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Or 'The One with the Smashed Slate'Warning: These re-reads may contain a few spoilers, but I consider old classics are fair game. 
It's one of the best mistakes ever made. Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert are a brother and sister who decide to adopt a boy from an orphanage to help work on their property, since they're getting older. But there's an office mix-up, and an imaginative red-haired girl arrives instead. When the shock wears off, the Cuthberts go with their gut instinct to keep her, since they believe they'll do her some good. But time and again, they discover the benefit is mutual, when Anne's originality and love works its way like yeast through their hearts and lives. 
It's a bulls-eye of a debut novel, and perfect example of episodic plot structure carried to perfection. Generations of young people have found themselves straight in Anne's head space. But if you're old, don't ever assume it's too late to start this series. You might well be like Miss Josephine Barry, who says, 'She amuses me, and at my time of life, an amusing person is a rarity.' 
What I appreciated even more than before. 1) Anne's relationship with Marilla is my highlight, since they're opposite in their default styles of thinking and reacting, yet somehow contrive to form a close, mutually loving relationship. Marilla is certain that Anne needs lots of plain common sense to ground her in the practicalities of everyday life, or else the ups and downs will take a heavy toll on her. Only later does it dawn on her that Anne's intense creative energy and keen appreciation for beauty is a huge compensation for the occasional low ebbs that go along with it. And Anne's personality has actually enriched Marilla's own life, along with Matthew's, in ways they'd never have expected.  
2) I love Matthew! Not only is he bursting with love, but he's a great model for introverts and shy folk everywhere. Those who know him well don't try to push him out of his shell, or encourage him to become more sociable and outgoing. They accept that he has his own style which won't ever change, and leave him to enjoy his life in his preferred manner. So perhaps it's Matthew's family and friends who need to be congratulated as great role models, along with the guy himself.  
3) As modern readers, it's interesting to trace changes over time. For example, Mrs Rachel Lynde's fascination with people watching is now regarded in some circles as a genuine hobby, rather than just being nosy. And Anne's first prayer beneath the Green Gables roof is surely now considered by many a fine, creative example of legitimate, devout prayer. It may be poles apart from the strict, 19th century Orthodox Presbyterian outlook shown by Marilla but no less reverent. Marilla was horrified almost speechless, but I doubt her 21st century counterpart would be. 
4) I back Anne and Gilbert all the way! What a lot of complexity can be contained into a non-relationship! As a kid, I thought Anne should grow up and swallow her wounded pride! I used to be the target of bullies, and reasoned that many boys in my class treated me far worse, and far more consistently, than poor Gilbert and that one incident, for which he instantly apologised. 
I feel differently as an older person, and understand Anne's slate smashing reaction without condoning it. She'd simply had enough. Gilbert wasn't to know the extent of her history on the receiving end of cruel put-downs. Of course his obnoxious behaviour was just a ploy for attention, but for her it was the tipping point. In turn, she wasn't to know that young males sometimes turn clownish and juvenile when they aim to impress girls. (That's one many people haven't fathomed.) She just thought, 'This is the last time anyone's going to deal me this guff in my new life!' Dare I say she may have even startled Gilbert into being his manly best from then on. He comes across as a bit of a jerk in our first glimpse of him, including the stunt with Ruby Gillis' plait. Their subsequent academic rivalry is great fun to read. Anne's insistence that Gilbert means nothing to her clearly means just the opposite, and we look forward to the day she admits it, especially to herself.
5) One of my favourite lessons she learned is a very practical one. Anne, you should never offer guests anything to eat or drink without sampling it yourself! This is vital, just to be on the safe side. Of course in the case of the raspberry cordial, she might have got drunk along with Diana, which wouldn't have helped her cause. But then again, she might have realised it wasn't the usual flavour of Marilla's raspberry cordial, and stopped them drinking it. In the case of the liniment cake, we all know you shouldn't cook for others if you have a bad cold. But this time around, it stands out that Marilla was partly to blame, for not having things put where Anne expected. On that train of thought, I won't even get started on the case of the missing brooch.  
6) If the concluding chapters don't turn on your waterworks, your self-control must be like steel. I imagine some of the first people good old Matthew met in heaven would have been Bertha and Walter Shirley, to thank him for helping turn their little daughter's life around.  
What I wasn't a big fan of this time round. 1) There's really nothing! This could well be one of the world's best books. But just for the sake of throwing something out there for debate, do you think it was fortunate for Anne that she was a chirpy and bewitching little girl? We're left in no doubt her particular charisma worked in her favour. If she'd been sullen or prickly, as many girls in her position probably would have been, there's no way the Cuthberts would have opted to keep her. Of course they would have been under no obligation to, but this is just my observation that other equally needy kids often miss the help they desperately need because the protective walls they raise are repellent to adults. It's a heartbreaking but true fact of life. 
2) For anyone whose name is Ann without an E, reading this might be a somewhat upsetting experience. But for the rest of us, it's all good. 
3) The prize for book's biggest villain goes to Diana's mother, Mrs Barry. What an inflexible piece of work. But it was good to see her step up and swallow humble pie later on. 
4) The last two points are tongue-in-cheek of course, because there's really nothing bad to say about this book.     
Great Quotes to take on board. 
Anne: It's so easy to be wicked without knowing it, isn't it?
Anne: It's been my experience that you can nearly always enjoy things if you make up your mind firmly that you will. Of course, you must make it up firmly.
Marilla: I don't believe in imagining things different from what they really are. When the Lord puts us in certain circumstances, He doesn't mean for us to imagine them away.
Marilla: I'm not feeling discouraged. When I make up my mind to do a thing, it stays made up.
Anne: Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world. 
Anne: I never knew before that religion was such a cheerful thing. I always thought it was kind of melancholy, but Mrs Allen's isn't. I can just feel she's glad to be a Christian, and would be one even if she could get to heaven without it. 
Anne: It is ever so much easier to be good if your clothes are fashionable. I know I'll be able to study better because of my flounce. I shall have such a comfortable feeling deep down in my mind about that flounce. 
Anne: It is always wrong to do anything you can't tell the minister's wife.   
Anne: Really Marilla, one can't stay sad very long in such an interesting world, can one?
Anne: Dear old world, you are very lovely, and I'm glad to be alive in you. 
Stay tuned, because next up will be Anne of Avonlea.

'Unsheltered' by Barbara Kingsolver

The New York Times bestselling author of Flight Behavior, The Lacuna, and The Poisonwood Bible and recipient of numerous literary awards—including the National Humanities Medal, the Dayton Literary Peace Prize, and the Orange Prize—returns with a timely novel that interweaves past and present to explore the human capacity for resiliency and compassion in times of great upheaval.

MY THOUGHTS:I put this on my wish list when I first saw it brand new for big bucks at my city Dymocks, but stuck to my budget which doesn't allow for expensive new releases. Down the track, just recently, I spotted it at a local second shop for just $5, and you can bet I jumped on it. 
I like a good dual timeline story. The two main characters are linked by the same decrepit house they find themselves living in, over a century apart. In 2016, Willa Knox is told that the family home she's inherited is fit only for demolition. It's the same day her son's girlfriend commits suicide shortly after giving birth to Willa's first grandchild. And back in 1874, Thatcher Greenwood discovers structural issues in the house he shares with his wife and in-laws, but they refuse to listen. Needless to say, it's the same address. Thatcher is a frustrated Science teacher who's trying to teach Charles Darwin's new discoveries to his High School students, but nobody wants a bar of them; least of all his employer, Principal Cutler. 
This is only my second Kingsolver novel so far, and they've both been what I'd call 'soapbox stories'. There are several scenes with characters sitting around in lounge rooms discussing politics, which makes the writing feel a bit static at times. Weaving a political agenda into her fiction seems to be her trademark, and some of the grievances are very up-to-date in this one. The issues she addresses actually make me glad to live in Australia, where it appears we're looked after far better when it comes to medical care and student loans. Kingsolver's 21st century characters often discuss Donald Trump without actually mentioning him by name, yet it's clear who's under the microscope. I once heard Kingsolver speak here in Australia, and she mentioned hate mail she receives from disgruntled readers, including occasional death threats. I say, 'Good on you, Barbara!' It can't be easy to stand among those brave and principled authors who are prepared to take backlash for their convictions.  
Willa's sections speak to me because she's a middle-aged parent of young adults still at home. She wonders why she and Iano, her husband, are in a financial mess after trying hard all their lives to make the prescribed moves to stay ahead of the rat race. Her epiphany comes from her free-spirited, hippy-ish, mid-twenties daughter Tig. 'The secret of happiness is having low expectations.' 
Willa is a Baby Boomer/Gen X citizen who was brought up on advice to shoot for the moon, because we can achieve anything if we try hard enough. We hitch our wagons to the stars, then crash hard when our plans are derailed. Perhaps it takes thoughtful millennials like Tig to set us straight. Maybe those of us born through to the seventies are just now coming to realise we've been fed an exaggeration. That hard work = smashing success formula isn't as reliable as we've been promised, because the world isn't stable. This novel suggests that learning to accept whatever comes and regarding small pleasures with big gratitude may be the secret, not of getting ahead, but of living with some measure of contentment. 
As for Thatcher's tight spot, I enjoyed reading about his heartbreaking dead-ends when trying to teach Darwinism, and his deep friendship with his next door neighbour Mary Treat, (who was actually a true, living person). I'm among those who never had trouble accepting Christian faith and the basics of natural selection simultaneously, and I appreciate that Thatcher and Mary seemed to share my mindset. They reason that 'Mr Darwin's argument doesn't malign divinity, as several people seem to think it does.' One good line is Mary's, 'To have been made the creatures we are is a marvel. If the process required millenia rather than seven days, how can it be any less sublime?'     
On the surface, it seems the plights faced by characters in the different timelines have nothing in common, but thoughtful reflection suggests they're similar after all. People always panic when their philosophical foundations crumble. Nobody ever wants to start fresh on the bottom rung when they've grown up with certain paradigms and beliefs cemented in place. The colossal waste of time this implies is just scraping the surface. But staying stubborn and lashing out at others is the ultimate ostrich behaviour. 
It's a really interesting read, but not perfect. The characters sometimes tread a fine line between being well-rounded and being mere mouthpieces. The nineteenth century thread seemed to peter out a bit. I would have liked to be filled in a little more on what happened to Thatcher after the events related in this story, and maybe even be told how he eventually died. As for the twenty-first century thread, toward the end, I'm left with major uneasiness that Willa's family situation is a tinder box waiting to explode.
  [A few spoilers ahead] Her children, Zeke and Tig, have never got along well together, and now Tig has decided she wants to raise her brother's baby, without getting his approval. Zeke has requested his parents to be temporary guardians, but now Willa and Iano will be living in premises that make it impossible. Tig's solution seems ideal to them, since she adores baby Dusty and Zeke's high-flying lifestyle leaves him no room for a baby. I think Barbara Kingsolver expects us to agree it's logical all round. But whoa, things could change at any moment. If Zeke ever wants Dusty back, the proverbial you-know-what will really hit the fan! I'm glad this story stops before that has a chance to happen, because poor little Dusty will be the one in the crossfire.  
Overall, I like Kingsolver's beautiful writing, including the clever transitions between chapters. The timelines alternate between chapters, and the last line of each chapter merges seamlessly into the title of the next, giving the impression that the history of 744 Plum Street is an unbroken continuum, despite the passing of time. In spite of the less than satisfying conclusions, I'll probably keep reading more of her books, although I tend to think they'll date over time, if they're like this one.  
 

The Anne Series by L.M. Montgomery

I've been hearing plenty of nostalgia about Lucy Maud Montgomery's Anne series recently. Along with everything else she ever wrote, these are heart-warming classics which I read many times during my childhood and youth. Anne is a genuinely beautiful soul whose happy outlook can't help rubbing off on readers. Even though I've referred to them lots since starting this blog, I haven't read them for many years. I decided I'm well overdue for a re-read. 
They're easy, pleasurable reads, so I'll space the eight of them out each fortnight, to take about four months all up. Each write-up will include aspects I still love, things that didn't impress me so much this time round, and great quotes. Please feel more than welcome to join me, or at least follow my progress. We'll kick off in a fortnight with Anne of Green Gables, the bestseller that got this mighty ball rolling. 
And just to add a bit more fun, let's give each book an alternative title to match the F.R.I.E.N.D.S sitcom format. If you've read the series before, these might spur your memory, and if you haven't, they'll stimulate your curiosity. Now, stay tuned for more as we get stuck into this Anne-athon.  

Anne of Green GablesThe One with the smashed slate
Anne of AvonleaThe One where she teaches school

Anne of the Island
The One with all the Proposals

Anne of Windy Willows
The One with Two Titles 

Anne's House of Dreams
The One with the Creepy Amnesiac Dude

Anne of Ingleside
The One with all the Kids

Rainbow Valley
The One with all the Minister's Kids

Rilla of Ingleside
The One Set during the Great War

'The Hobbit' by J.R.R. Tolkien

Written for J.R.R. Tolkien’s own children, The Hobbit met with instant critical acclaim when it was first published in 1937. Now recognized as a timeless classic, this introduction to the hobbit Bilbo Baggins, the wizard Gandalf, Gollum, and the spectacular world of Middle-earth recounts of the adventures of a reluctant hero, a powerful and dangerous ring, and the cruel dragon Smaug the Magnificent.
MY THOUGHTS: 
This is my choice in the Genre Classic category of the 2020 Back to the Classics Challenge. Of course it's classic fantasy, but it's been ages since I've delved into any of these Tolkien stories. I'd forgotten a fair bit. Bilbo, the homely hobbit, is gatecrashed in his cosy home by the Wizard Gandalf and thirteen dwarves, headed by their chief, Thorin Oakenshield. They insist that he accompany them on a perilous journey to take back their mountain full of treasure from Smaug the dragon, an evil squatter who stole it from Thorin's ancestors generations ago. Gandalf has decided that Bilbo is the perfect guy to be the group's 'burglar'. Perhaps 'reclaimer' would be more accurate, since he's assigned to steal it back for its rightful owners. Bilbo is understandably unwilling to go, but they're an impossible mob to refuse. So we're off on an adventure.

Even though we readers haven't visited Middle-Earth ourselves, it's written in such a way that we can draw from snippets of earth geography stored in our imaginations to fill details with our own colour. Here's a good line about architecture. 'On some of the hills were castles with an evil look, as if they'd been built by wicked people.' Or we're invited to use our knowledge of forests in descriptions of the great Mirkwood. 'There was no movement of air down on the forest floor, and it was everlastingly still, dark and stuffy.' With a few great lines, we're there on the quest with Bilbo and the dwarves.

Who can help but notice Gandalf's habit of going missing? Occasionally he drops a big announcement that they're now on their own. (With some nonchalant line like, 'Hey ho, I'm off because this isn't really my adventure, but I might join you down the track if I have time.') And other times he just pulls a disappearing stunt, leaving his friends scratching their heads and inquiring, 'Hey, have you seen him?' I know it's revealed further through the series that he has an excellent reason, but in this book it's left a mystery.

It's easy to pay Gandalf out, since the others are essentially clueless in the face of trolls, goblins, wolves and spiders. Yet his absence does enhance the plot, forcing them all, especially Bilbo, to scrape from the barrels of their own resources in desperation and save the day. It would be a far more tedious story with a powerful wizard on hand every step of the way. The Elvenking says, 'Farewell, O Gandalf. May you ever appear where you are most needed and least expected.' Well yeah, we get the impression that is indeed his modus operandi.

Deep underground near the goblin caves lives the pathetic, bulgy-eyed Gollum in his murky lake. I so enjoyed his high-stakes riddle-off with Bilbo. I'm one of those readers who can't help feeling sorry for this lonely, slimy character. I totally understand his despair at losing the one thing he has going for him in his miserable life. His ring was his protection and meal ticket. Even though the story doesn't divulge much at this stage, there's a sense that the ring has a sinister intelligence of its own. Perhaps it knows its future potential is limited with Gollum, so makes extra sure to sneakily slide off his finger. Super well played by the ring. A bit of an internet search reveals that Tolkien re-wrote this incident for the second edition published in 1951, to make Gollum's personality more consistent with that of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. In the initial 1937 version, Gollum wasn't as pathetic, hostile toward Bilbo, or attached to his precious ring.  

Racial tension adds a nice dimension to our sense of place. We have the droll, mercurial quality of the essentially good elves, in contrast to the more down-to-earth, plodding natures of the dwarves, whose eyes light up at the thought of treasure. 'Even decent enough dwarfs think elves foolish, which is a very foolish thing to think.' But has Tolkien written himself into a racial dilemma, with his creation of the goblins and orcs?

Here we have a race which is simply born bad, not to mention ugly. They have horrible stony voices, never make beautiful things, but are experts at producing ingenious gadgety ones, such as cruel torture devices. I'll be on the lookout for a 'good' goblin in the books to come, but somehow doubt I'll find one. If we're to take Middle-Earth as a sort of duplicate of our plain Earth, does this create some ethical awkwardness? I think we wisely refrain from considering this aspect as a mirror of earth in any way at all.  

At the ultimate destination is the mighty dragon Smaug, who won't give up without a fight. A dog in the manger at heart, he merely sleeps on the outrageous hoard of treasure he's stolen, and goes berserk when he realises one golden cup is missing from a mountain that would take a century to excavate. But Smaug has his Achilles Heel, or in his case something more like Dragon's Nipple. Without being too spoilerish, I found his destiny in this story a bit anti-climactic, after all the build-up.

The best of this book is, of course, its title character. Bilbo is a pocket-sized legend. At first I was indignant on his behalf, for being forced to risk his life for something he didn't care a rat's behind about - dwarf treasure in some distant mountain. I wondered if that was a major story weakness, in fact. A quest's main character with no vested interest in the stakes! Why should we care about a hero drawn into someone else's agenda? But pretty soon it becomes all about friendship and loyalty, as he realises he's fighting with his quick wit so his friends may enjoy the home comforts which are rightfully theirs.
He also has undeniable good luck. Bilbo has a great knack of stumbling over major gems while he's just strolling along. And I love how he delivers the dwarfs some sass when he think he's in the right. Even the great Thorin Oakenshield gets a bit of lip from the disgruntled hobbit.

What makes Bilbo most heroic is his value for the really important things in life, which are exceptionally ordinary. His head is never turned with greed, like certain dragons and dwarfs, because home comforts always retain their rightful place. He knows full well the sound of the kettle on his hearth and the sizzling of bacon and eggs can't be beaten. His new coat of mail is a wonderful tribute but he knows it looks silly. The Elvenking is spot-on when he says, 'Bilbo Baggins, you are more worthy to wear the armour of elf princes than many who have looked more comely in it.'

Maybe the crux of the tale is poor old Thorin's final revelation. 'If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.'

This story has inspired me to keep on with the epic. I'm not going to tackle The Lord of the Rings as a whole review, but will break it up into its three components, The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers and The Return of the King. It might not be for some time, but they're coming. 

Fictional characters and the gift of pianos

My kids and I all had piano lessons at some stage. As a 19-year-old still living at home, I purchased a whopping ancient second hand upright, totally untuned and weighing a tonne. I lived at home with my parents on a fairly large property with a twisty, rustic driveway, and the delivery guys' grumbles have stuck in my memory all these years. On the other end of the spectrum, my daughter far more recently walked inside with a light keyboard tucked beneath her arm, which a mate had lent her. The one thing we had in common was good intentions we failed to see through. Big or small, we never stuck it out to be as proficient as we'd like to be. (She's moved on to the ukelele now, which is far more to her liking.) 
But piano nostalgia sometimes takes hold of me, especially when they pop up in good stories. Recently I dug up a great romantic novella on my kindle entitled 'Mail Order Revenge' by Angela K. Couch. It was a lovely quick read about a mail order bride who went into her marriage with scary intentions to wreak havoc, but eventually softened toward her new husband. Just the sort of tonic I sometimes need to unwind and relax. What helped disarm the heroine, Elizabeth, was when the hero, Axel, purchased a surprise piano for her. They lived on a very remote property in the era of horse and carts, so it was no mean feat getting it there. She just melted when she found out. 
But Axel and Elizabeth definitely aren't alone. Their story set me thinking about all the piano gifts ever given by fictional characters. My word, has it ever occurred to you how many there are? When somebody from the pages of a book wants to make to meaningful present to somebody special, it seems as often as not they decide upon a piano! Wow, I've never given anyone a piano in my life, or ever received one either. Have you? So what is the big draw card for these heroes and heroines?          
My guess is it must be a combination of size and significance. The sheer magnitude of a such a present declares commitment far more than something like flowers or chocolate. And it's undeniable that the recipient is getting far more than a wooden frame and ivory keys, valuable as they are. It's the gift of music! Beneath proficient fingers, music is the language of the soul, and the preferred communication of angels. Hearts may be stirred and emotions primed for hours on end. Perhaps the giver has an ulterior motive in choosing a piano, hoping that the loved one will remember them, whenever they sit down to play. 
Here are five classic examples that spring to mind. As you read them, I'll ask you to look out for your favourite.    
1) Mr James Lawrence to Beth MarchThis kindly old gentleman's gruff mannerisms unintentionally scare the timid daughter of his next door neighbours. He deeply regrets it, because Beth's sweet face reminds him of a little girl he lost years ago, and he dearly wants to be friends. At first he extends her a permanent invitation to give his own neglected keys a work-out whenever she feels like it. But eventually he orders a brand new piano all of her very own to be delivered to her home. That's the catalyst that spurs timid Beth to give Mr Lawrence a warm thanks. And hence two different but equally lonely people bond over the gift of music. (See my review of Little Women.)
2) Captain William Dobbin to Amelia SedleyThis shy and awkward soldier is madly in love with his best friend's wife. When Amelia's family goes bankrupt, all of their household goods are sold off at auction. William secretly buys Amelia's treasured piano, just for the pleasure of sending it back to her anonymously. Amelia chooses to assume it was a final gift from her dead husband George, who we readers know was far too self-centered and cheap to dream of doing any such thing. Her piano brings her great comfort for years - until her horror and mortification when she discovers the real benefactor. She stops playing it, at least for a little while. (See my review of Vanity Fair.)
3) Frank Churchill to Jane FairfaxThis expensive gift is the cause of much misunderstanding. The young dandy buys it for his secret fiance, but she prefers that he didn't because of the embarrassing speculations it gives rise to. Emma Woodhouse for a start, imagines a scandalous situation in which the smitten husband of Jane's closest friend sends it to her. Emma talks herself into believing her own far-fetched suspicion. She even confides it to Frank, who plays along. He's highly amused, but neither of the young ladies are when they learn the full extent to which he has meddled with both of their emotions. He has a lot of smooth talking to do. (See my review of Emma.)
4) The previous tenant to the Nolan familyOverworked and underpaid, Katie Nolan certainly regards the piano in their new apartment as a special gift, although the poor lady who left it behind didn't really intend it to be. She simply couldn't afford to have it moved. She asks Katie and her family to please take great care of it for her, and explains that she couldn't resist the way it smartened up the appearance of the drab little room. Katie cleverly barters with an acquaintance for piano lessons in return for house cleaning. She makes sure her two kids both watch carefully, in order to squeeze in three students for the price of one. It pays off down the track for her son Neeley, who has talent enough to earn some good money from his skill. (See my review of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.)
5) The Ingalls family to MaryOkay, this one is actually an organ, but I believe it fits this list anyway. I could've called it 'the gift of keyboards'. While Mary Ingalls is busy studying far from home at the College for the Blind in Iowa, her parents and sisters decide to chip in to buy her the welcome back home present of her dreams. Playing music is one of Mary's great passions, and they anticipate all the happiness it will bring her. Alas, their own delight is deferred when she opts to spend her holidays at the home of a friend instead. But it's all worthwhile when Mary comes home the following year and discovers what they've done. I believe this organ is still on display at the Laura Ingalls Wilder Museum The love and patience shared by Pa, Ma and the girls makes this my personal favourite. (See my review of These Happy Golden Years.)
So which is yours? Since they're all so good, I'd really like to know if there are any genuine stand-outs, or if they all get an equal number of takers across the board. So I'll do something different and ask you to please comment with your favourite of these five here or on social media. And soon I'll update this post with the results of my very informal poll. 
And as always, can you think of any others to add?    

'Cranford' by Elizabeth Gaskell

Through a series of vignettes, Elizabeth Gaskell portrays a community governed by old-fashioned habits and dominated by friendships between women. Her wry account of rural life is undercut, however, by tragedy in its depiction of such troubling events as Matty's bankruptcy, the violent death of Captain Brown or the unwitting cruelty of Peter Jenkyns. Written with acute observation, Cranford is by turns affectionate, moving and darkly satirical.

MY THOUGHTS:
I'm making this my choice for the Abandoned Classic category in the 2020 Back to the Classics Challenge. I almost finished it long ago when I studied it for Uni English as a teenager, but only read enough to pad out what I felt my essay required. At the age of 19, I thought it was all about a bunch of pompous old spinsters and widows in a poky old town, regretting missed opportunities and trying to enforce a snobbish pecking order. Well, I still think it's about a bunch of self-important senior women trying to maintain their social status. But I seem to have developed more of a tolerance for that sort of thing, perhaps because some of it has come home to roost. The themes of dwindling time and money really leaped out at me this time round.

The narrator is a modest young woman whose name is revealed close to the end as Mary Smith. Mary often stays with distant family at Cranford. Miss Deborah Jenkyns was an autocratic town leader who has recently died, leaving her far more gentle and nervous sister Matilda (or Matty) in charge of their household. Matty thinks she'll make a mess of things and shame Deborah's memory. But several of her bossy sister's former decisions turn out to have a negative impact on her own life, which is obvious to Mary but not to Matty. And Miss Matty pulls through on strengths Deborah never had, such as empathy and generosity.

The community is revealed as one of general poverty, but they're able to conceal it, and even make it fashionable with an unspoken pact to disapprove of 'lavish spending.' The ladies all consider their cost cutting a form of 'elegant economy' and pay out anyone lucky enough to be able to splash out a few bucks as vulgar and ostentatious. I have to laugh as I read their reasoning, since this sort of sour grapeism has even made its way into our 21st century budgeting over the years.

The story deals with layers of time. Mary the narrator is speaking nostalgically as she looks back to her youth when she stayed with Miss Matty Jenkyns at Cranford. During that time period itself, she helps Miss Matty delve even further back as they collate old letters and talk about the happenings of former generations. This really makes time feel like a set of Babushka dolls, in which we can't help finding ourselves stacked. And what goes around most certainly seems to come again.

Several memories for me were loaded with extra significance Gaskell definitely can't have intended, because the events in my mind were way in my past and her future. She was long dead and I hadn't been born yet. Reflecting on her girlhood during the Napoleonic war, Miss Matty muses, 'I used to wake up in the night many a time and think I heard the tramp of French boots entering Cranford.' I straightaway remembered my Dad talking about about his own boyhood in the early 1940s of South Australia, and saying, 'I used to wake up and imagine I heard German troops marching down the streets of Adelaide.' Nothing levels human experience quite like reading books.

I can't help noticing that when Elizabeth Gaskell pokes gentle fun at the old snobs, they still come out on the page as sort of lovable. Even the totally stuck-up Mrs Jamieson. In Jane Austen's merciless hands, the same ladies could be made to look ridiculous and even villainous. (Think Mrs Elton, young Mrs Dashwood, Lady Catherine de Bourgh.) Is there a lesson there for us readers? Maybe since we have a choice to choose the lens through which we view people, we should make an effort to see those around us lovable instead of abominable. That can sure be a hard ask though. 

Overall, it's not an exciting book, but a highly readable one if you like small town politics and the fusing together of different personalities. And it was said to have been Mrs Gaskell's own personal favourite. I'm guessing that might have been at least partly because of the many gentle teasing and humorous remarks she slipped in. Such as when Martha the maid says, 'I won't listen to reason. It always turns out to be what other people have to say.' This little book is worth reading for Elizabeth Gaskell's keen sense of humour.