books

Mariana by Monica Dickens

Once again, I am so grateful to Persephone Books for introducing me to an author I’d likely never have encountered if not for their efforts to reissue neglected women authors of the early 20th century.

We’re all well aware of Monica Dickens’s famous great-grandfather, a certain Charles, but I had never read any of Monica’s work until Mariana. I’ll be seeking out more.

First published in 1940, Mariana tells the story of a young Englishwoman named Mary who is reflecting on her life during a sleepless night spent waiting for word on her husband, whose ship has been sunk in battle. It’s a bit of a sad, stressful beginning, but from there on, Mary’s recollections of her family, education and early loves are a pleasure to read, even when they make you cringe.

Funny, tart, well-observed and definitely recommended.

To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf

I first read To the Lighthouse in university and remember thinking it was okay, but not quite my cup of tea. Seeing this audio version on Overdrive recently, I wondered what I would think now, thirty years later.

Woolf’s style (heavy on stream of consciousness, light on plot) bugs some people, but I enjoyed it – far more than I did was I was young and couldn’t identify at all with Mrs Ramsay. Making it even more enjoyable was Juliet Stevenson’s excellent narration.

Recommended for anyone willing to give Virginia another chance.

William – an Englishman by Cicely Hamilton

I was already falling way behind on book reviews even before The Summer of Tendonitis – “the summer of”, I say, as if it’s anywhere close to being healed on this, the last day of summer – and now I’m so far behind I’m not sure there’s any point in trying to remember what I thought about books I read in January. Why why why don’t I take better notes? I sit down to read with a pen and notebook and immediately get so lost in the text that I forget all about the concept of notes. I never learn.

I do have a pretty clear memory of reading William – an Englishman by Cicely Hamilton, however. Written in 1918 as the First World War raged around her, Hamilton mercilessly skewered the pompous men and women who were so fixated on their stubborn, tiny perspectives on social issues that they completely missed the towering disaster of a global conflict bearing down on them. I was stunned by how relevant it still is. Some things never change, I suppose.

William – an Englishman is the first title re-published by Persephone Books which “reprints neglected fiction and non-fiction by mid-twentieth century (mostly) women writers.” There are currently 139 titles on Persephone’s list and you better believe I’m going to try to track down as many as I can.

(Back in March, I wrote about Persephone title number three: Someone at a Distance by Dorothy Whipple. The fusspot in me believes I shouldn’t have done them out of order like this, but I think I was so jazzed about the Whipple book right after I finished it in March that I couldn’t help myself. It’s an exciting life, I tell you.)

A Chill in the Air by Iris Origo

A short, but fascinating first-hand account of life in Italy during the build-up to Italy’s entry into the Second World War.

According to Origo, most Italians hated Hitler (and Germans) and wanted no part of fighting alongside Nazis. They truly believed only Mussolini – master negotiator, force of nature and god among men – could and would keep them out of it. Fascism was popular and democracy derided, particularly in the pro-German/anti-British propaganda in Italian newspapers. Knowing now how badly things ended for Italians, Origo’s continual hunt for signs that they’d escape the war is all the more heartbreaking.

Maybe if high school history classes focused more on gripping, first-hand accounts like this one and less on deadly boring textbooks, we wouldn’t be doomed to repeat the same stupid political cycles over and over.

Highly recommended.

The 4% Fix by Karma Brown

I’m a sucker for books about productivity and creativity and making time for meaningful pursuits and all that jazz, but this one just didn’t do it for me.

Brown’s main idea is that by getting up an hour earlier every day (for her, that’s 5 am – shudder) one can use that time to pursue a personal goal. That’s it. That’s the 4% fix. Go to bed an hour earlier so you can get up an hour earlier and do that thing you want to do before the day fills up with all the things you have to do.

This is perfectly reasonable (if not exactly revolutionary) advice, but there’s a weird insistence here on getting up at 5, as though extreme early birds are the only people who ever accomplish goals.

When I write my book on making time for meaningful pursuits (which’ll be never, apparently, since I am NOT voluntarily getting up at 5) I’ll also emphasize the importance of reserving an hour a day, but reserving it whenever it fits in with one’s own circadian rhythms and daily schedule. The only difference between taking an hour at 5 am or taking it later in the morning (or mid-afternoon or late in the evening) is that later risers don’t get to brag about how early they get up.

The Pothunters by PG Wodehouse

To ensure my TBR list is truly unmanageable, I recently set a goal of reading all Wodehouse’s works in order of publication and…oh boy. Dude was prolific. This is going to take a while.

Wodehouse’s first novel was The Pothunters, published in the UK in 1902. Thank goodness for Project Gutenberg because I don’t think I’d have had a prayer of finding it anywhere else.

There are flashes of the trademark Wodehouse wit and humour here, but this is definitely the work of a young writer who hasn’t yet mastered his craft. I enjoyed the glimpse of life at a British boys’ boarding school at the very beginning of the twentieth century, baffling though it is.

Recommended only for a Wodehouse super-fan.

Off Script by Marci Ien

Whenever I happen to open Overdrive right after all the new arrivals have been added and see AVAILABLE AVAILABLE AVAILABLE some deep-seated competitive spirit kicks in and I start greedily downloading titles I wouldn’t usually bother placing on hold if they weren’t immediately available. I never learn. Clearly this hoarding behaviour can be traced back to my hunter-gatherer ancestors, and not just that one in particular who can spot jigsaw puzzles at a garage sale from fifty paces.

Anyway, this is my rude and roundabout way of saying that’s how I ended up reading Off Script: Living Out Loud by Marci Ien. No offence to Marci, who seems like a very nice person, but I have never watched Canada AM or The Social and had only the vaguest idea of who she was. Well, now I know.

She writes clearly and openly and I found her thoughts on being a woman of colour in Canadian journalism to be especially compelling. Anyone who is a fan of morning television would doubtless enjoy it even more.