Cynthia Sally Haggard's Blog: Cynthia Sally's Blog, page 53

Georgette Heyer’s THE MASQUERADERS

[image error]THE MASQUERADERS by Georgette Heyer turned out to be the most unexpected delight. I cannot remember now why I put it on my reading list, but as I opened it to read I hoped it would give me a little pleasure as I am very fond of historical novels. Part of the joy in reading this novel is that the characters have such fun, even while the stakes are so high:

“The door opened, and the page let in fat Marthe, a tray in her hands. It was a very colossus of a woman, of startling girth, and with a smile that seemed to spread all over the full moon of her face. Like her mistress, from one to the other she looked, and was of a sudden smitten with laughter that shook all her frame like a jelly. The tray was set down; she clasped her hands and gasped: “Oh, la-la! To see the little monsieur habillé en dame!”

“Robin sailed up to her, and swept a practiced curtsey. “Your memory fails you, Marthe. Behold me – Prudence!”

“She gave his arm a playful slap. “My memory, alors! No, no m’sieur, you are not yet large enough to be mademoiselle.”

“Oh, unkind!” Robin lamented, and kissed her roundly.

“Marthe, there is need of secrecy, you understand?” My lady spoke urgently.”

The need for secrecy is that brother and sister are both Jacobites, and have fled to London after the failure of the 1745 rising to put Bonnie Prince Charlie on the throne. As Robin, the brother, is under attainder and could be hanged for his part in the rebellion, he is now dressed in petticoats and answers to the name of Kate Merriott, while his sister Prudence is dressed as a man and presents herself as Peter Merriott.

The plan is for the pair to lie low in London for a while, awaiting instructions from their father who has disappeared. But no member of this charming, highly intelligent and incorrigible family is good at actually disappearing, and they win hearts and a great deal of attention from the bon ton.

Apart from the spirited pranks and witty dialogue, what gives readers so much pleasure in reading this novel is three fascinating main characters who are so devilishly clever. The reader is going to be glued to the pages of this book as they see how this family saves itself from disaster and is accepted into London society. Highly recommended. Five stars.

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Philippa Gregory’s THREE SISTERS, THREE QUEENS

[image error]In this novel Philippa Gregory portrays the voice of an unknown Tudor princess, Princess Margaret, the elder sister of King Henry VIII who married James IV of Scotland at the tender age of 13.

Her voice captured me and bore me through her life as she alternately triumphed and failed as Queen Regent, after her husband’s death in battle.

I had not expected such a novel to be funny, but Margaret’s voice – a unique blend of precocious knowingness and naivete – was laugh-out-loud funny as this proud teenager, who molded herself after her formidable lady grandmother Margaret Beaufort (for whom she was named), misunderstood what was going on around her.

Five Stars.

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Reading Sundays: THE MARRIED MAN (Part 6) a short story by Cynthia Sally Haggard

“After that first meeting, I rearranged my days so that I could pass through Thurrock on my way elsewhere, to have a cup of tea, and a chat with Emmy. She used to bring me sandwiches and home-made cakes, and it wasn’t long before I realized I was falling in love. But it was 1916, or 1917, the war was still on, there was no end in sight, and I didn’t think it fair to a girl like Emmy, to saddle her with someone who might be wounded, and not able to provide for her.

I didn’t say anything to Beat, which wasn’t hard as we scarcely saw one another, but somehow she found out. One day, when I returned[image error] at midnight, I found her waiting up by the fire.

“Where’ve you been?” she carped as soon as I entered the room.

“You know where I’ve been, Beat.” Perhaps now was a good time to get some things off my chest, as I might not have the opportunity for a while. I looked her straight in the eye.

“Look, Beat, you and I, we’ve not been getting along so well, have we? Would you like me to leave?”

“Leave? Why should I want you to do that?”

“We’re not getting on.”

“Oh? And what makes you an expert all of a sudden?”

“You don’t want me to touch you.”

“Of course I don’t. That whole thing is disgusting, and look where it left me, at death’s door.”

“Beat, I’m sorry you lost the child, but we have to let bygones be bygones.”

She folded her arms, and glared. “Robert Prisley Caveley, I declare you are one of the selfishest individuals to ever inhabit this earth. You don’t care about me. You want to move on because you’ve found someone else.”

“Beat—“

“Don’t you dare deny it.” She picked up a rolling pin. “Or I’ll brain you.”

I hadn’t noticed the rolling pin until now. Was she joking? I looked at her sharp visage, harsh lines outlining her nose and mouth.

[To be continued.]

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A wonderful novel with an outstanding ending (POSSESSION)

[image error]POSSESSION by A.S. Byatt employs a parallel plot device, in which two modern researchers (Maud Bailey and Roland Mitchell) try to find out what (if any) was the relationship between two Victorian poets, Randolph Ash and Christabel LaMotte in the years 1859 to 1861.

The first time we meet them is in a railway compartment on page 299:

“We are travelling together,” he said. “We decided–you decided–to come. What I do not know is whether you would wish–whether you would choose–to lodge and manage yourself separately from me after this point–or whether–or whether–you would wish to travel as my wife…

“I want to be with you,” she said…She spoke quickly and clearly; but the gloved hands, in their warm kid, turned and turned in his. He said, still in the quiet, dispassionate tone they had so far employed: “You take my breath away. This is generosity–”

“This is necessity.”

“But you are not sad, you are not in doubt, you are not–”

“That doesn’t come into it. This is necessity. You know that.” She turned her face away and looked out, through a stream fine cinders, at the slow fields. “I am afraid, of course. But that seems to be of no real importance. None of the old considerations–none of the old cares–seem to be of any importance. They are not tissue paper, but seem so.”

“You must not regret this, my dear.”

“And you must not speak nonsense. Of course I shall regret. So will you, will you not? But that too, is of no importance at this time.” (299-300)

In this scene, we are not just limited to the words written down as part of a one-sided conversation that characterizes a letter. We are also given, in A. S. Byatt’s text, additional information that conveys more vividly the emotions. Here, she characterizes Ash’s embarrassment, hesitancy and fear of failure by the rhythms of his speech. He does not speak fluently, he pauses and repeats himself, sometimes changing a word (from ‘we’ to ‘you’, from ‘wish’ to ‘choose’) to acknowledge that Christabel LaMotte isn’t his wife, but an independent being. LaMotte is nervous and somewhat self-deceiving, telling herself and him that staying in his room is a ‘necessity’ rather than a choice. In all other aspects, she employs a steely clear-sightedness, knowing that she is ignoring feelings of guilt and fear and regret in her single-minded determination to have an affair with him. Lastly, she doesn’t hesitate to contradict him. So this is no typical coy Victorian Miss. This is a clear thinking woman making choices, with one dash of self-deception thrown in to make her human.

I loved the way this novel ends. Five stars.

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Margaret George’s MARY, CALLED MAGDALENE

[image error]What a wonderful book this is! Margaret George’s MARY, CALLED MAGDALENE is about the life and ministry of Jesus Christ and what happened to his disciples after his death.

The book is in three parts. Part One, titled DEMONS tells about the childhood and young adulthood of Mary of Magdala, and how she came to be possessed by demons. Part Two, titled DISCIPLE is the story of the three-year ministry of Jesus Christ. Mary comes in right at the beginning of his ministry when he casts out her demons, and stays with him because her family turns her out and she has nowhere else to go. Part Three, titled APOSTLE tells what happened to Mary and the other disciples after the death of Jesus Christ.

Margaret George is the kind of writer who can grab your attention and hold it for the entire length of a novel. I thought her characterization of Mary of Magdala, Jesus, Jesus’ mother and the other disciples was intelligent, insightful and interesting. This is not just a rehash of parts of the New Testament. It is a refashioning of the tale that helps to explain why Jesus and his followers acted as they did. I could not put this book down. Five stars.

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Madame Defarge knits in code…(A TALE OF TWO CITIES)

[image error]If there is one thing that people remember about Charles Dicken’s A TALE OF TWO CITIES, it is of Madame Defarge knitting while the heads roll: “The ministers of Sainte Guillotine are robed and ready. Crash!–A head is held up, and the knitting-women who scarcely lifted their eyes to look at it a moment ago when it could think and speak, count One.” (178)

This is a brilliant example of how brutality dulls the mind in the face of horror. Dickens uses knitting, which we normally associate with a cozy home life, and pairs it with the guillotine to make it seem sinister and arresting. What is odd about this scene is that it is the only example I could find of Madame Defarge actually knitting beside the guillotine, and she isn’t there, a fact that is made much of by her side-kick ‘The Vengeance’. So one could say that this scene is also a perfect example of how memory has difficulty in processing negatives. Because what people actually remember is that she is there, in her chair, knitting. Here is an actual example of Madame Defarge knitting, and why it is so important:

Next noontide saw the admirable woman in her usual place in the wine-shop, knitting away assiduously. A rose lay beside her, and if she now and then glanced at the flower, it was with no infraction of her usual preoccupied air. There were a few customers, drinking or not drinking, standing or seated, sprinkled about. The day was very hot, and heaps of flies, who were extending their inquisitive and adventurous perquisitions into all the glutinous little glasses near madame, fell dead at the bottom. Their decease made no impression on the other flies out promenading, who looked at them in the coolest manner (as if they themselves were elephants, or something as far removed), until they met the same fate. Curious to consider how heedless flies are!–perhaps they thought as much at Court that sunny summer day.

A figure entering at the door threw a shadow on Madame Defarge which she felt to be a new one. She laid down her knitting, and began to pin her rose in her head-dress, before she looked at the figure.

It was curious. The moment Madame Defarge took up the rose, the customers ceased talking, and began gradually to drop out of the wine-shop…(85)

While talking with the spy Barsad in the most unhelpful fashion possible, Madame Defarge is knitting in code such details as his name and appearance. Which is presumably why she wants the other inhabitants of the shop to go away, so that she can concentrate. I love the way in which Dickens picks out seemingly unimportant details to make a point. For example, the flies are compared to those courtiers who lounged around Versailles, pursuing pleasure with abandonment, heedless of the storm that is brewing up beneath them. Five Stars.

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Reading Sundays: THE MARRIED MAN (Part 5) a short story by Cynthia Sally Haggard

“Dreams and aspirations are all very well, but our family was poor, so when I turned fourteen in 1903, I had to leave school to find a job. My parents hid their disappointment well. Perhaps they were hoping I would be so brilliant that the schoolmasters would be begging to let me stay. However, when I came home from school the day I turned fourteen, with a letter of reference from the headmaster, they didn’t protest. I soon found myself employed in the City as a clerk in a dry goods store.[image error]

“Everything was going swimmingly until I met Beat, whose full name was Beatrice Victoria Hough, a fancy name for a chit of a girl who lived in Bermondsey, on the wrong side of the river. But people had aspirations in those days and often gave their kids these ridiculous names.”

She searches the pile of faded clippings.

CAVELEY

Mrs. Beatrice Victoria, née Hough…married Robert Prisley Caveley, on 20 June 1914, at St. Anne’s, Bermondsey…

“Emmy listens quietly, her hands in her lap. She is the complete opposite of Beat, having a knack for seeing the good in others. I raise my eyes to Emmy’s soft brown ones, and the words dry on my lips. Somehow, I don’t think Beatrice, or ‘Beat’ as she is commonly known, is a suitable topic of conversation for a girl like Emmy.

“After that first meeting, I rearranged my days so that I could pass through Thurrock on my way elsewhere, to have a cup of tea, and a chat with Emmy. She used to bring me sandwiches and home-made cakes, and it wasn’t long before I realized I was falling in love. But it was 1916, or 1917, the war was still on, there was no end in sight, and I didn’t think it fair to a girl like Emmy, to saddle her with someone who might be wounded, and not able to provide for her.

I didn’t say anything to Beat, which wasn’t hard as we scarcely saw one another, but somehow she found out. One day, when I returned at midnight, I found her waiting up by the fire. [To be continued.]

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TOM’S MIDNIGHT GARDEN by Philippa Pearce

[image error]Poor Tom. It’s the beginning of his summer holidays, but his brother Peter catches measles. And so Tom is hustled off to stay with his Uncle Alan and Aunt Gwen, a well-meaning but boring middle-aged couple, who have agreed to house Tom until he is out of quarantine.

The place they live in is a grand house, or rather it used to be a grand house until it was divided up into flats. This book (published 1958) captures a period in British history when the economy was still recovering from the war, and people who owned the many thousands of old mansions dotted around the countryside had to do something to make ends meet. Old houses are very expensive to maintain, but in those days no-one had any extra money, not even to eat out. Everyone was making do and being frugal (rationing had only ended in 1953.) What to do? People split up their old houses into apartments to bring in the money they needed for its upkeep.

Thus this tale begins in dreary mid-century Britain, with the emotion of grief at having to ruin a lovely old house running not far under the surface.

This is the story where the clock famously strikes thirteen (at the beginning of Chapter 2.) After that, things start to happen. The house, which seemed so dead and cold on Tom’s arrival, starts to come alive. Tom spies a magnificent garden through the moonlit windows.

Next morning, Tom finds himself back in the dreary block of flats the mansion has now become, and there is no garden out back. But in that grey, still hour before dawn, the following morning, Tom is walking around the wonderful garden.

And this is what I remember most when I read this book as a girl. For this is a time-slip novel, with Tom journeying back to the late 19th century (1880s to 1890s) when the house was a mansion, peopled with servants, guests and the owners, and there was an enchanting garden out back. With vivid descriptions of the house, garden and Hatty, Tom’s playmate from the 1880s, we get a powerful sense of poignancy, of a time lost and forever gone, of a vanished garden and a mutilated house that still dreams of its glorious past. Perfect for middle-graders. Five stars.

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She wanted to be a doctor, but it was 1861…(MY NAME IS MARY SUTTER)

[image error]MY NAME IS MARY SUTTER is the debut novel of Robin Oliveira, who gained an MFA at the Vermont College of Fine Arts. Ms. Oliveira has a story to tell about a compelling character, the eponymous heroine of this novel, one Mary Sutter, who wishes to become a doctor. If she’d lived nowadays, she would have had no problem. But in 1861, there was no way that this was going to happen, and poor Mary, who is not as conventionally good-looking as her sister, has to endure a great deal of frustration and sadness throughout this novel, both professionally and personally.

This is a wonderful novel about the American Civil War. Ms. Oliveira has done an incredible amount of research, which gives the whole story a note of verisimilitude. She is a wonderful writer with a formidable technique who can handle changing points of view seamlessly in a way that doesn’t disturb the reader. As you read this book, you will feel that you are with Mary as she nurses all those young men who suffered so much during this war. Five stars.

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A well-brought-up young lady meets a mischievous sprite…(THE RUNAWAY)

[image error]THE RUNAWAY by Elizabeth Anna Hart was originally published in 1872, and tells the tale of an excessively conscientious, well-brought up young lady named Clarice, and what happens when she comes across another young lady, Olga, whom she finds in the garden.

Kind-hearted Clarice, intrigued by her naughty guest, successfully hides her in her large rambling Victorian mansion. But what trials she undergoes. The worst is (gasp!) lying to her dear Papa. Then there is Olga herself, who is not a well-brought up young lady, but rather a mischievous sprite who seems unable to keep herself out of trouble. Instructed, repeatedly, by Clarice to sit still, Olga draws attention to herself by climbing on walls, trees, roofs, posing as a ghost, and generally creating a merry mayhem in Clarice’s quiet, serene and oh-so-respectable household.

The best part about this tale are the various descriptions of Olga. Here is how Mrs. Hart describes her when Olga first sees her:

A head slowly and cautiously protruded itself from among the bushes, a head covered with such short, crisp golden curls that for a moment she thought it must belong to a young and handsome boy, but the sweet little fair face was too entirely feminine, and with a push, a scramble, a jump, and almost a fall, a body followed the head, and a girl of about her own age, or perhaps younger, stood opposite to her, panting, blushing, laughing a little, and then putting her finger on her lips and saying “Hush! hide me; please hide me; hush!”

I thought this book charming, and a great way of learning about a forgotten age, Victorian England. Four stars.

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