"The House of the Seven Gables"

The House of the Seven Gables by Nathaniel Hawthorne

It's been a very long time since I read anything quite as boring as this. I've been reading it for months just a few pages at a time to get it off my Guilt List and I did succeed in doing that so I guess it wasn't completely pointless. Let me explain why I'll never recommend this book to anybody.

 My copy had 342 pages and nothing actually happened till page 251. The first 250 pages were spent describing the old house, the old woman who lived in the old house, her old brother, their young cousin and a couple of other people. And the garden. It wasn't really that much of a garden but there were pages and pages and pages about the trees, leaves, flowers, bumble bees, how the sun looked on the leaves and flowers and how the breeze moved the leaves and flowers and how the bees moved around the leaves and flowers. Ugh. I've read some wordy authours over the years - Hardy and James can ramble with the best of them - but Hawthorne is in a class of his own. And yet he says quite seriously: "But we strive in vain to put the idea into words." Trust me, there was no striving. He had no problem finding words. Many, many words.

The basic outline of the story is this: (Spoiler alert...but this book is 162 years old so the ending probably isn't much of a secret) Rich guy cheats little guy out of his rightful property. The family living on the property doesn't prosper. The old woman tries to earn money by operating a cent shop out of the house. She rents a room to an idealistic young artist. Her frail, addle-pated brother comes to stay. Their sweet young cousin comes to stay. They sit in the garden. A lot. The young cousin goes home but is coming back very soon. Then, on page 251, their filthy rich evil cousin comes to the house and threatens them. He dies from choking...or something...it's not quite clear. Everything that happens from this point on takes place with the evil cousin's cold, dead body sitting in the parlour. The old woman and her brother take a train to no place in particular and back. The sweet young cousin comes back and has a romantic scene with the artist. They finally tell the authourities about the body, they inherit all the money and they live happily ever after. It's not much of a story and at no point in what little there is did any of the characters feel real or make me care about them. It's like a very dismal fairytale with some - and by some I mean too much -  heavy handed preaching thrown in.

The writing is quaint and old fashioned, with words like quidnuncs and eleemosynary, and would have been pleasant to read if only there hadn't been so many words about so few things.There is lots of foreshadowing in passages like this one: "But Hepzibah did not see that just as there comes a warm sunbeam into every cottage window, so comes a lovebeam of God's care and pity for every separate need." so whatever was coming was never a surprise. (lovebeam...?)

When I read The Scarlet Letter years ago I don't remember it being this much of slog to get through and can only hope The Blithedale Romance won't be as bad because it's still on my list. As for The House Of The Seven Gables, unless you absolutely have to read it for some reason beyond your control, skip it and spend your precious reading time on something more interesting.

"I Capture The Castle"

I Capture The Castle by Dodie Smith

Casandra Mortmain lives in a run-down English castle (I never can resist a book about an old house) with her family: father, James; step-mother, Topaz; sister, Rose; Brother, Thomas; and friend/boarder/hired hand, Stephen. James is a writer who had some success in years past but now fritters away his days doing crosswords and unknown things behind a closed door, leaving his family pretty much penniless. The furniture, china and anything else of value were long ago sold for food and other necessities. They have all grown accustomed to being cold and hungry, and yet there is little resentment. They accept things as they are, making the best of not-so-pleasant circumstances and looking for the positives.

Things begin to change when an estate in the area is inherited by an American family and the Mortmain's lives become entangled with theirs. There is romance, and that's how this book and it's movie are usually promoted, but there is much more to it than that. Cassandra's  relationships with her family members are a major part of the story, as is the castle itself. I wouldn't categorize it as a romance, but then I'm not sure what I would call it.

Cassandra tells her story through a series of journals she keeps. She begins with a cheap notebook, moves on to a better one and finishes with a blue and gold leather bound journal received as a gift from one of the American brothers. The book is structured into three sections according to the journal she's writing in and the months covered. "The Sixpence Book - March" is followed by "The Shilling Book - April and May" and "The Two Guinea Book - June to October". She's a wonderful narrator - bright, observant, witty and rich in personality. When I got to the end I didn't want to be finished. I wanted, and still want, more of this writing, more of this story and more of these people. I want to live in the crumbling castle and be part of it's story.

This is another of the older books I've been finding lately, first published in 1948, that have recently been brought back into print. I wonder how many forgotten treasures like this one are buried in old libraries never seeing the light of day. I'm grateful there are publishers bringing some of them back into circulation.

On the back cover of my copy a quote from the New York Times says: "It is an occasion worth celebrating when a sparkling novel, a work of wit, irony and feeling is brought back into print after an absence of many years. So uncork the champagne for 'I Capture the Castle'." This book should be celebrated. I loved every page of it. I hope you'll read it and find it as endearing and satisfying as I did. 

     

Thank you for the music...

Today I am thankful for music - all of it - classical, rock, gospel, folk, blues. Where would any of us be without it? With or without lyrics music can reach places in us that nothing else can. It allows us to express our happiness, grief, joy, loneliness, hope, fear and every other thing a human being can feel.

I'm grateful for every time I've fallen asleep to Frank Sinatra singing I'll Be Seeing You or The Beatles singing Hey Jude. Other times it's been Pavarotti, Barbra Streisand, the Bee Gees, Bob Seger, The Gaither Vocal Band, Simon and Garfunkle or Andy Williams. There's been music for every mood and every emotion I've ever experienced. It's always been there, running through my head for as long as I can remember, adding colour, texture and meaning to my days and helping me say what I couldn't say otherwise.

Graphic courtesy of Antique Images

In the words of Martin Luther: "Beautiful music is the art of the prophets that can calm the agitations of the soul; it is one of the most magnificent and delightful presents God has given us."  It has calmed my agitations thousands of times, but it has also given me energy when I couldn't muster any up on my own. There seems to be a song perfect for every situation.

I love music in every genre; a single playlist on my ipod might include John Denver, Adele, Ray Charles, Bon Jovi, Perry Como, Jefferson Airplane (oh please, look it up!) Kelly Clarkson and Celine Dion. I have singalong playlists and driving playlists, going to sleep playlists and worship playlists. I used to think it was weird to sometimes crave sad songs but then I came across these words from Reba McEntire: "For me, singing sad songs often has a way of healing a situation. It gets the hurt out in the open into the light, out of the darkness." I don't feel so bad now about my "Sad Songs" playlist.

I have never thought that my life would make for a very interesting movie, but it would have one heck of a sound track and for that, I'm thankful.

 

Top Ten Tuesday

                                        
 Top Ten Tuesday is hosted by The Broke and the Bookish

Today's top ten challenge is : 

The Top Ten Favorite Covers of Books You've Read

This was not easy. I'm a pushover when it comes to covers and often choose books based largely on what they look like. Sad, I know. I did manage to choose ten but there are many more that could have gone on this list. Here are the ten I picked:

1. The Colony of Unrequited Dreams by Wayne Johnston

2. The Aluminum Christmas Tree by Thomas J. Davis

3. The Secret of Lost Things by Sheridan Hay

4. A Homemade Life by Molly Wizenberg

5. The Septembers of Shiraz by Dalia Sofer

6. Time Was Soft There by Jeremy Mercer

7. The House at Riverton by Kate Morton

8. Christmas On Mill Street by Joseph Walker

9. The Professor’s House by Willa Cather

10. Up In The Old Hotel by Joseph Mitchell

Do you have a favourite book cover?

"Our Spoons Came From Woolworths"

Our Spoons Came From Woolworths by Barbara Comyns

I first heard about Barbara Comyns 3 years ago when I started blogging. She was recommended by so many bloggers that I felt I must be missing out on something special, so I looked up some of her books and put this title on my TBR. When I decided I was in need of some light reading I grabbed a few titles off my book shelf and this one made it to the top of the pile. It did what I wanted it to do - got me involved in a story other than my own and took me away for a while - but it didn't impress me as much as it seemed to impress others.

It's written in the first person, which I like because it gets you inside the character's head and lets you connect with them emotionally, but in this case she (Sophia) speaks with such detachment that I feel I never get to know her. She narrates her stories, good and bad, on the same even keel without letting her feelings show very much. For example, in this passage where she is nine months pregnant, beginning contractions and wondering whether to wake her husband, she sees her mother's ghost (a thing that has never occurred before) but she shows no fear, hardly even any surprise: "...during the night rather a pain came in my tummy so I sat up in bed and wondered if I should wake Charles. Then I saw my mother's ghost sitting in the rocking chair, and it was rocking in quite a normal way, so I did wake Charles and said "Look! There is my mother's ghost. She must have come to tell me it's time to go to the nursing home. I do feel a bit queer."

Later, when Charles gives her a little speech that would surely qualify him for BIGGEST JERK EVER status, she barely reacts at all. This is what he tells her: "I am very fond of you but I loathe this domestic life. The children are quite beautiful, but they don't mean a thing to me. I don't feel like a father, and have never wanted to be one. I may be inhuman and selfish, but I must be, life is so short, and the young part of our lives is going so quickly. I must be free to enjoy it and not be weighed down by all these responsibilities." Her reaction? "All right, Charles...we will part. I'll make my plans. Already there are some quite good ones in my head, so don't worry." She packs up the kids and they leave. He stays in the apartment while she hits the streets with two small children and no money. I wanted to scream at both of them, him for being a spoiled child and her for not kicking his butt out of there and standing up for herself and her children. Her children for pete's sake.

Because Sophia tells her story with this emotionless eccentricity, she stays very distant, a stranger really, right to the end. I did enjoy the reading, but I can't say I loved it because I couldn't ever get hold of her and figure out who she was. Many times my only response to her was shaking my head at the thoughtless decisions she was making.

So. I didn't love this book but I would like to try another because I enjoyed her writing. I seem to be preferring British authours these days; the way they use the language is so very appealing. Since I've been rather negative about this one, I'll leave you with this lovely bit of writing as a balancing positive: "I think the afternoons skating must have been the happiest I had ever had. The feel of the cold air on my face as I glided round and the exciting sound of our skates cutting the ice - suddenly a startled blackbird would fly in a great hurry from a bush, scattering hoar-frost and giving little cries. In the distance there was always someone chopping wood, which made us feel warmer somehow." Beautiful.

"Miss Hargreaves"

Miss Hargreaves by Frank Baker

Miss Constance Hargreaves, poet, is a figment of the imaginations of Norman and Henry, two young Englishmen who are lifelong friends and who like to invent harmless histories to make themselves appear well connected and knowledgeable and help them gain admittance where they might otherwise be shut out. Completely caught up in the story they'd concocted about her Norman sent off a tongue-in-cheek note to Miss Hargreaves expressing their warm regards and inviting her to come for a visit.

The trouble started when they received a reply. They decided someone was just messing with them, but then a book of Constance Hargreaves verses turned up in Norman's father's bookshop. It was an old, well-used volume, one that couldn't have been recently put together and planted there by a practical joker. All of this is impossible of course, and yet there she was arriving on a train, a living, breathing human being, an eccentric old woman greeting Norman as a dear friend and causing him to question his own grasp on reality.

The complications for Norman were endless. He had to find a way to explain her presence in his life - to his girlfriend, his family, his friends and his employers, all of whom were soon worrying about his mental state. Things got more and more difficult until his life was completely going off the rails and he knew he would have to do something desperate to get it back. I'll leave it to you to read how he solves his dilemma.

It is such a treat to find a book with a plot that is completely fresh and new, unlike anything you've ever read before. It's a rare thing - let's face it, most stories have been told over and over again - so when an unusual one comes along it's a nice surprise. This was a new one to me, this tale of an imaginary character coming to life. I would have enjoyed it for the novelty alone but happily it also had pretty good writing.

There were interesting characters too. Miss Hargreaves is as quirky a character as you'll ever find. You love her, then hate her, then feel sorry for her, then love her again; the one thing I don't think I'll ever do is forget her. Norman's father is annoying and adorable, fascinating and monotonous. Norman himself is basically a regular guy, a decent guy, but one whose overactive imagination is about to become his downfall. There were a couple of times when I wanted to shake him for doing obviously dumb things that would make things worse and I wondered why the authour put those things in, but in the end I think they made Norman more relatable. He's an intelligent guy, a talented classical musician who might have seemed out of reach if he hadn't shown those moments of poor judgement.

This is an older book, first published in 1940 and is one of several early twentieth century books republished for the modern reader by The Bloomsbury Group. Other titles include "Henrietta's War", "Love's Shadow", "Mrs. Tim of The Regiment", and "The Bronte's Went To Woolworths". I haven't read any of those, but this one is a satisfying story, worth your time and I do recommend it.