Thus Far and No Further

by Rumer Godden

Rumer Godden's first work of non-fiction and only her sixth overall book, Thus Far and No Further is a fascinating book of local northwest India and Tibet tribes-people and their cultures. As with other early works, it's heavily influenced by Godden's time in Kashmir, India, where she lived with her two daughters from 1942-1944.

Genres: India, Biography, Memoir

Hardcover

First published January 1, 1943

About the author

Margaret Rumer Godden was an English author of more than 60 fiction and non-fiction books. Nine of her works have been made into films, most notably Black Narcissus in 1947 and The River in 1951.
A few of her works were co-written with her elder sister, novelist Jon Godden, including Two Under the Indian Sun, a memoir of the Goddens' childhood in a region of India now part of Bangladesh.

Reviews

[Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

When I ordered this book from the library I knew next to nothing about it. When I finished A Fugue in Time, I scanned the catalogue for titles that I didn’t have and I picked it out from the titles that I knew weren’t in print; because there was a note that said it was Rumer Godden’s first work of non-fiction; as I hadn’t read any of her non-fiction at that stage the book picked itself.

The volume that arrived was small and sturdy, and covered by an ugly plastic dust jacket, but when I opened it I was smitten by the author’s note:

“There are only a few things in these notes:

Chinglam and its hills and valleys
Work
Flowers
Children
Animals
Servants

There is nothing else because there was nothing else.”

In 1940, when her husband joined the army, Rumer Godden and her two young daughters settled in a rented house in Kashmir; set between tea gardens on the Himalayan slopes below Darjeeling.

This is the journal that she wrote there.

The writing is every bit as lovely as you might expect as you might expect from Rumer Godden; it’s understated, it’s elegant, and it’s wonderfully evocative.

The pieces are short; and they paint such lovely pictures, of daily life and of the people and the world that surrounded the small family.

Here’s one:

“The apple man says he has his daughter with him and she would like to sell me some peas…. He says she is very shy. Presently, she comes out slowly from behind a tree. She has a basket of peas and tree tomatoes and the colour of the pods looks wonderfully fresh against the wallflower brown velvet of her robe. She has cream sleeves and a red sash and her hair is in a pigtail braided with scarlet nearly to her knees. She does not look up, she looks down, and her eyelids make two upturned crescent shapes on her cheeks and her skin is the blend of red and pink and brown of the skins of the tree tomatoes. As soon as she has shown her basket, she retires behind the tree again. I buy all she has.”

There are so many entries that I could pull out.

I particularly enjoyed watching the author’s small garden over the changing seasons, with juxtapositions of flowers that I would love to see:

“It is getting colder. Michaelmas daisies come out in the garden with the first sweet peas and cornflowers and poinsettias. In this mixture of English summer flowers and India, there is an authentic touch of autumn.”

I loved watching her dogs:

“Old Sol lies out on the drive in the sun. The colourings of his coat exactly match the autumn: the drying grass, the ripening millet, the deep colour of the marigolds and the yellow daisies growing in the crops.”

And I was charmed by her children:

“The children have made hobby-horses of the pampas canes. These have slim green stems, and their great feathery heads make excellent tails. Some are white, others are green bronze. They go galloping on them down the grass lanes that the paths make between the tea.”

As a whole the book really felt like an author’s journal; something that she had taken time and trouble over, not something that was contrived or significantly edited for publication. It felt as if she was writing something that she could read to stir memories of that part of her life, or maybe to spark ideas for novels she had still to write.

There were times when I felt that she was a little reserved, and there were times when I wished that she would describe just a little more. She passed over the lights of Diwali so very quickly ….

And so I have to say that it is a minor work. But it is very, very lovely.

[Molly · Rating 5 out of 5]

Prior to the first chapter of this book, Ms. Godden states "There are only a few things in these notes - Chinglam and its hills and valleys; work; flowers; children; animals; servants. There is nothing else because there was nothing else." A very simple, elegant, rich book. Impossible to read at prose speed - to be inhaled like poetry. Delightful.

[Dhanaraj Rajan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Question: Can anything ordinary become so beautiful in a few words?

Answer: It can. There may be some good writers who can do it. But Rumer Godden is certainly one of them.

It looks like Rumer Godden had to stay for six months (July - December 1943) in a small village on the Himalayan Ranges just below Darjeeling. She stayed in one of the Tea Estate bungalows in Rungli-Rungliot area in Bengal with her two kids. It was the time of World War II and she had for her company only her two kids aged 5 and 3 and some of the Indian servants and ponies and dogs and flowers and plants and mountains and snows and solitude.

So obviously she writes only about them. About the kids, about the animals, about the landscapes, about the servants, about the solitude. Even though there is nothing great about them, yet Rumer Godden paints them in words so beautifully that the reader would long to be in that tiny solitary mountain village.

Some of her observations and reflections are to the point. I loved many such comments and observations on the natural season, plants, animals and on the natives.

Here is a quote on her observation on the habit of betel chewing by the People from North India (in this case North Eastern People):

"I shall always feel doubtful about lipstick after living in a betel-nut country. The betel-chewers have red vivid lips; it gives the man a girlish perverted look, until they open their mouths and show their teeth, stained scarlet too. Then they look more than depraved; like Draculas, bloody in every sense of the word."

[Helen · Rating 4 out of 5]

In this little book, Rumer Godden transports us to Chinglam, a tea plantation, just down from Darjeeling. In 1940 she spent a year there, isolated except for her children, dogs and servants. Lush with flowers and fruits it is a wonderful place and she loved its isolation and beauty. Kanchenjungha, and the Sikkim snows are visible from her place. Pumpkins grow on the rooftops of the workers on the plantation.

I read this book on loan through ILL from Lamar State College of Technology (probably has changed its name now), Beaumont, Texas. It was published in 1946 and contains lovely pencil drawings of the people and places in Chinglam. Also, tucked in between the last two pages I found a dried leaf, accompanying thes final paragraph, "This book should smell of lemon leaves. The last thing I do is to pick some and put them in the pages: they will die, but the scent of them, whenever I smell it again, wherever I find it, will mean to me always, Chinglam."

I replaced the dried leaf (no longer has a fragrance)for the next person to discover.

[Maryann · Rating 4 out of 5]

A wonderful book to be read slowly, and savoured. You feel like you are on a tea estate in India. Am trying some of her fiction next.

[Sandeep · Rating 3 out of 5]

Rungli Rungliot - Rumer Godden
Rating 3.5/5

Another book of Ruskin Bond's selection - one which he had first read 65 years' back - during the time he spent at Channel Islands UK away from India. This book provided Bond with the much needed warmth of home and memories which he was missing back then.

The book is about Rumer Godden who got to spend 6 months at a home amongst the slopes and tea gardens, below Darjeeling away - all this during the times of World War2. This book is more of a recording of her day to day happenings during those six months, I wonder why it has been projected as a year? May be I am wrong. The main actors in the book include Godden, her children, her servants, her pets, dogs, ponies, hens, chicken and many a local men and women apart from the plants, trees, rivers and streams.

I did enjoy the initial section of the book, where there lies a description of the area, tea gardens, trees, houses, people. Just that initial excitement of settling down (feeling) in a place which is away from the crowd. But, as much as I tried to liketh the book during the course of my reading, I found it hard.

As the pages progressed, monotony kicked in and my enthusiasm just got kicked out. I was very close DNF but then with 170 odd pages, it doesn't take much effort anyway to pursue it, so I DID finish it.

I can safely assume, this book might have inspired Bond to turn his journal into a novel - The Room on the Roof, which I feel is still a delightful read. There is a subtle difference in the approach from observation and writing perspective which makes Bond's book as well as writing much much superior. I cannot comment about Godden, because this my first Godden book.

I somehow feel, Godden failed to write about one essential entity in the book which would have made the book very interesting, which Bond does effortlessly and that is 'EMOTION'.

Yes, I felt the book to be lacking emotion and at the bare maximum kept emotion at an abstract level at many a places and about many a thing. Godden may have observed emotions but fails to write about them. The servants, the people who worked at tea gardens, no personal sides of these people have been mentioned. Yes there is a help who drinks a lot, there is a Ayah who has embraced Christianity. There are plenty of other things to write about other than people's cleanliness and grooming. But Godden chose to stick it to abstraction including herself. None of her past or present or personal side penetrates through the book.

So the book contains lots about trees, plants, her pets and kids day to day activities, rivers, streams, weather, Indian festivals, tea, world war - and few other topics.

Reader gets to know, she is focusing on her work, which one has to assume is writing. Overall an average read, one good thing to come out of this book, is the information about other Rumer Godden books - which I will surely try to explore. Godden has written many a books which are set in India and what more fun than getting to know your own country. So that is my take away.

The book ends as abruptly as it started out!

Cheers.

[Madhulika Liddle · Rating 4 out of 5]

During World War II, Rumer Godden, along with her her two little daughters, Rafael and Sabrina, their Swiss-Italian governess Giovanna, and a few servants, went to live in a house on a tea plantation near Darjeeling. With the Teesta on one side and the snowy mountain ranges on the other, Chinglam became home for the family for less than a year - and that space, both of time and of location, is brought to life in Rungli-Rungliot.

I loved this book; it made me yearn to run away to the hills around Darjeeling, to experience and see all that Godden describes. Some of it, I am sure, will have gone, but some, perhaps, will have endured. The people Godden describes, their way of life: these might have changed, but the views, the flowers, the shades of the Teesta: these will be, I hope, the same.

There is more I loved about Rungli-Rungliot. The delightful anecdotes about the children. The interesting characters who surround the family, from Lena to Kokil to Baju, plus the dogs, and the chickens, with their Italian names. The insights into tea-growing and processing. The descriptions of the natural beauty of the place.

There are irritants, too - a section on children working at the tea estate made me squirm (especially since Godden suggests that because they seem to be having fun doing some of the tasks, child labour is permissible). Also, a note about the bread-man, old but walking thirty-six miles three days a week to fetch provisions for the British - and being paid twelve rupees for it - made my hair stand on end. Ooh, the exploitation.

Despite that, a book I still loved.

[Allison · Rating 4 out of 5]

The book starts:

"There are only a few things in these notes:
-Chinglam and its hills and valleys
-Work
-Flowers
-Children
-Animals
-Servants
There is nothing else because there was nothing else."

Such an honest, understated opening. This is the story - notes from a diary - of a young woman (a writer & a mother) living a very unique and isolated existence during WWII: on a tea garden at the foot of the Himalayas. The notes are accompanied by drawings by some Tomtyn Hopman, though the writing itself is lyrical and imaginative enough.

The story is autobiographical (names changed or abbreviated) but the situation: young mother with children - absent husband - out of their element (as in, in a foreign place). . . it seems to repeat with other people's lives, though at the moment I can't think of any other than my own mother. . .

For the record (and to brag) I have the original version of the book, "Rungli-Runliot" published by London: Peter Davies.

Ultimately: it is a sweet little volume with some moving, exposing, sections - glimpses into Rumer Godden's thoughts and mind and state. . .

[NIRMALYA NANDI · Rating 5 out of 5]

কিছু বই থাকে, যেগুলো শুধু সাদা পাতায় কালো কালিতে ছাপা অক্ষরের সমষ্টি নয়, বরং তার থেকে অনেক বেশি কিছু। সেসব বই পড়ার সময় আমাদের চোখে যেন জাদুবাস্তবতার পরশ লাগে, আমরা দেখতে পাই ধীরে ধীরে একটা অন্য পৃথিবী উন্মোচিত হচ্ছে, তার একান্ত নিজস্ব শব্দ-বর্ণ-রূপ-গন্ধ-স্পর্শ নিয়ে। রুমের গডেনের রুংলি- রুংলিওট তেমনই একটা বই। এই বই পড়তে গিয়ে আমি অনুভব করেছি পাহাড়ি কিশোরী ঝর্ণার উচ্ছল জল যেন আমার ক্লান্তি ধুয়ে নিচ্ছে বারংবার। চোখ তুলে দেখেছি, একটি কুঁড়ি দুটি পাতার অবারিত শান্ত সমুদ্র আমার সামনে। আমি সহজেই ডুবে যেতে পেরেছি সেসব হারিয়ে যাওয়া দিনের জীবনে, যেখানে সকালে ঘুম থেকে উঠে সবুজ ঘাসে ছাওয়া শিশির ভেজা পাকদন্ডী সুঁড়িপথ বেয়ে ঝোরা থেকে জল আনতে হয়। যেখানে শীতের দিনের শেষে ফায়ারপ্লেসে আগুন জ্বালিয়ে কাঠের চেয়ারে এসে বসে মানুষ, পুরনো-গন্ধ-মাখা, বাদামী চামড়ায় বাঁধানো সোনালী জলে নাম লেখা কোনো উপন্যাস হাতে। পায়ের কাছে শুয়ে থাকে ককার স্প্যানিয়েল বা অ্যালসেশিয়ান। সেসব দিনের জীবনযাপনের স্বাদ-আস্বাদের আনন্দ আমাকে নিবিড়ভাবে ডুবিয়ে রেখেছে রুংলি-রুংলিওটের প্রতিটি পাতায়, শুরু থেকে শেষ পর্যন্ত।

[Mary · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have read this several times; my younger sister gave me the wartime edition. As with all of Rumer Godden's books, it's beautifully written. It is a book that shows things and people with simple, poetic precision. Godden's descriptions of her daughters and nephew; the letter she wrote to her oldest girl, who wanted to learn to read; the descriptions of the mountains and the tea--these things stay in mind and resonate, as though you were hearing silent music as you read. Lovely.

[Monabi Mitra · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautiful shimmering account of the writer's year in a remote tea garden near Darjeeling- Runglee Rungliot. The writing reminds me of Daphne du Maurier, the descriptions take me back to a few days spent at a tea garden near Kurseong. For anyone who loves solitude, nature and the hills, a beautiful book. The only regret is the slightly racist tone in describing the servants, but then, that is a commentary on her times and the attitudes that went with it.

[Martin · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is just lovely writing. Mostly it seems to be journal entries of some kind that have been shaped into something slight but great. This is about her period when she left the world embroiled in the second world war and tried to make a go of it at the foothills of the Himalayas. Here w get her impressions of the people, the terrain, the seasons, the festivals, and the help. If you're a big fan of "Kingfishers Catch Fire" you should read this for a different facet of that period of her life. There's something refreshingly clear eyed in her writing and there is something about her language here that reminds me of Lillian Hellman's memoirs, something concerning memory and the ephemeral. As with her fiction, you have to really pay attention at the beginning when the characters are introduced. It begins in July and ends at the new year. Godden has to learn to accommodate the servants in their holidays, and they learn a bit about British traditions. Godden throws a Guy Fawkes party and the locals think that the burning effigy is of Hitler. The pages about Christmas are especially poignant as the book draws to a close. The barefoot children of the servants playing, her own daughters expectantly worrying about getting presents, and Godden's fears that the postal service might not deliver. Throughout this book she learns about trusting God, pushing through, and with humility recognizing how hard it is for one to keep their own promises -- so in all honesty don't expect others to keep theirs. As happens in several of her books, the woman must leave a place in the end. She lists the garden she planted and won't see to fruition. She lists the things she hated, not a short list, and loved, a surprisingly longer list that could have gone on and on. I might put lemon leaves in my book as she writes that she will do, so that whenever she opens it, she'll be reminded of Chinglam.

[Kevin Fernandes-Prabhu]

My first book for 2018 is Rumer Godden's memoir of living in Darjeeling for a period of about three months. Set in a picturesque tea plantation called Chinglam, that comes alive together with its various inhabitants in the lyrical prose of Godden, the book is titled Rungli Rungliot (Thus Far and No Further). Though the book has moments of racism,  mild ethocentrism, and sometimes outright orientalism and homogenization of the NeBhuLa inhabitants, and has misconceptions like "low caste Hindus, who feel ashamed of their caste become Christians", I guess I can forgive Godden, given the book was written pre-World War II, when many of the colonial class thought like her. 


Having lived and loved, briefly and intensely, in the hills of Darjeeling, I couldn't help but stop every few pages to reminiscence on this quaint little town, with sublime views and warm people. Perhaps, I'll go there again sometime soon. Till then, I have a beautiful painting by Parjanya, little odds and ends from my visits there, and the faint smell of lemons, dancing in my nostrils, second hand memories from the vivid prose of Rumer Godden.