A Book Blog by Books do Furnish a Room

[Books do furnish a room]

I posted a couple of reviews on the 31st so I will cut and paste them here as a starter;

 

Sherston's Progress by Siegfried Sassoon

This is the third of Sassoon’s wartime trilogy. It takes the reader from Sassoon’s admission to Craiglockhart for shell shock to the end of the war. After Craiglockhart Sassoon spends some time recuperating in Ireland before being posted to Palestine. From there he is sent back to France, to the trenches. His war ends in July 1918 when he is shot in the head returning from patrol by an overzealous member of his own side.

I felt that this was somewhat weaker than the other two parts of the trilogy. Sassoon feels lost and taken along with events in this volume. He spends time with Dr Rivers talking about his protest and ends up deciding to return to the front line. He still feels the same about the war, but it is as though he is drawn back despite himself and Sassoon periodically examines his motives and seems as puzzled as the reader in explaining them.

The use of the word Progress in the title is obviously reminiscent of Bunyan and Pilgrim’s Progress, although I think in this case the Celestial City which is longed for is in the past; an England of cricket and country pursuits which has gone forever (and probably never really existed). This makes the destination in this novel rather hazy and there is an aimlessness about it. The war has taken over Sassoon and he can conceive of doing nothing else. Once in France Sassoon reverts to his previous recklessness and seems to court death on a number of occasions. I felt that towards the end of the book that Sassoon’s mental health really was rather fragile at this time; hardly a surprise given his experiences. I think this is a good illustration of the way the machine of war ground down those who were caught up in it, no matter how much they fought it.

7 and a half out of 10

Starting Unbridled Spirits; Women of the English Revolution 1640-1660 by Stevie Davies

 

And

 

In Parenthesis by David Jones

 

This is another one of the reads related to the First World War and one of the better ones. It is also one of the most difficult to define. Its author, David Jones was a painter, poet, designer and wood engraver. His father was Welsh and he was strongly influenced by the Welsh literary tradition. It   is effectively a prose poem, using both mediums following Private John Ball (In this work there are many layers of meaning, John Ball was a Lollard priest and one of the leaders of the Peasant’s Revolt) over a period of seven months from England to France and finally to the Battle of the Somme, more specifically Mametz Wood.

There are copious notes and these are necessary as the references to other works are numerous and I think very few would come close to getting them all. There are numerous Shakespearean references, especially Henry V, Lewis Carroll, Coleridge’s poems, The Song of Roland, Malory (especially Morte D’Arthur). The Bible (especially Revelation) and two Welsh texts in particular. The Gododdin, the Mabinogion and the sixth century poem Preiddeu Annwn (The Harrowing of Hell). There are also lots of references to popular songs from the music hall and Jones makes good use of soldiers’ slang.

Jones was influenced by Eliot, Pound and Joyce and they are his starting points. This was published in 1937 to immediate critical acclaim. Eliot, in his introduction called it a “work of genius”. W H Auden went further; he also felt it was a masterpiece and was the “greatest book about the First World War”. Auden went further and felt in terms of greatness and quality it was comparable to Homer and Dante’s Divine Comedy.

Jones also includes an archetype of the universal soldier; here a Welshman called Dai Greatcoat who has fought in all wars:

 

“This Dai Adjusts his slipping shoulder-straps, wraps close his misfit outsize greatcoat – he articulates his English with alien care.

            My fathers were with the Black Prince of Wales

At the passion of

the blind Bohemian king.

They served in these fields,

It is in the histories that you can read it, Corporal – boys

Gower, they were – it is writ down – yes.

Wot about Methuselem Taffy?

I was with Abel when his brother found him,

Under the green tree.”

 

Some critics have argued that Jones romanticises war; however that is really only a surface interpretation. He parallels and compares the Somme with Camlan and Catraeth (both actual battles suffused with legend where the Celtic/Briton cause was defeated by the invading Angles and Saxons). Fussell has argued there is a deep conservatism here; however I think what Jones is doing is trying to ennoble those who have been lost. This is best illustrated by a remarkable passage from near the end of the book where most of John Ball’s comrades have fallen in Mametz Wood; men we have been with throughout the book. The Queen of the Woods is acknowledging the fallen:

 

“The Queen of the Woods has cut bright boughs of various flowering.

These knew her influential eyes. Her awarding hands can pluck for each their fragile prize.

She speaks to them according to precedence. She knows what’s due to this elect society. She can chose twelve gentle-men. She knows who is most lord between the high trees and on the open down.

Some she gives white berries

            some she gives brown

Emil has a curious crown it’s

            made of golden saxifrage

Fatty wears sweet briar,

he will reign with her for a thousand years.

For Balder she reaches high to fetch his.

Ulrich smiles for his myrtle wand.

That swine Lillywhite has daises to his chain – you’d hardly credit it

She plaits torques of equal splendour for Mr Jenkins and Billy Crower.

Hansel with Gronwy share dog-violets for a palm, where they lie in serious embrace beneath the twisted tripod.

Sion gets St. John’s Wort – that’s fair enough.

Dai Greatcoat, she can’t find him anywhere – she calls both high and low, she had a very special one for him.

Among this July noblesse she is mindful of December wood – when the trees of the forest beat against each other because of him.

She carries to Aneirin-in-the-nullah a rowan sprig, for the glory of Guenedota. You couldn’t hear what she said to him, because she was careful for the Disciplines of the Wars. “

 

The reference at the end relates to a Welsh Bard and is also a direct reference to Henry V and the Welsh officer Fluellen.

The language is sublime but you cannot get aware from the senselessness of the slaughter as friends and comrades “sink limply to a heap”.  Jones adds to the feel and sense of his work with illustration and painting. It is easy to forget he was primarily a painter and illustrator. The frontispiece of the original edition (painted by Jones) has been reproduced in the Folio edition that I have. The best description of it is one I found by a blogger called Alex Preston and I can’t better it, so won’t try.

 

“The soldier, staring out of blank eyes, hangs crucified against the background of broken trees. Rats scuttle through the barbed wire that trains up his body towards his shrunken genitals – symbols of his emasculation in his final moments. Tiny figures reminiscent of C. R. W. Nevinson or Wyndham Lewis struggle with enormous guns in the background as the night sky smudges into a riot of stars. “

 

This is not a work that is sentimental or romantic about war. Jones has taken on board the lessons of Eliot and Pound about the presence of the past and the whole work weaves the past and the present together. It is important to stress the Welshness of the work. The lead character is John Ball, not John Bull. Ball and his comrades are portrayed throughout as being done unto by those in power and authority. They were ordinary men and Jones as I argued earlier ennobles them to mythical levels. Jones portrays the realities and brutalities of the Battle of the Somme and warfare in general in a way that we are not used to, and with a modernist twist. It may be that one of the reasons this work is not as well-known as it should be is that is not so easily accessible as other works and poetry. The description of Lt. Jenkins dying as a result of gassing is every bit as powerful as Wilfred Owen’s description in “Dulce et Decorum est”.

The most interesting critical account I came across was written by Joseph Cohen in a magazine called Poetry Wales where he makes use of the term simultaneity (simultaneous action) to describe Jones’s work. It is a term he borrows from relativity theory and he argues that it is the key to understanding In Parenthesis. Jones juxtaposes various events and Cohen argues that this is justified by drawing together the commonality of military experience with the commonality of “the futility of sacrifice and the suffering in combat”. Cohen goes on to say that simultaneous occurrences and simultaneity make these juxtapositions explicable. This means, he argues the bare structure of In Parenthesis is very similar to Lowry’s Under the Volcano and Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow.

Cohen sums up the argument as follows;

 

“Simultaneous occurrence is the key to structural coherence. The relativity theory, as literary people employ it, concentrates on the principles of simultaneity and uncertainty, and the invalidation of the principle of causality. Modern combat, where simultaneous action closes in on the participant, provides us, microcosmically, with one of our most convincing demonstrations of multiplicity, or clutter, in the universe; of the futility of planning actions based upon previously acquired temporal and spatial measurements; and of the breakdown between cause and effect. Causes are generated and set into motion, only to collide with one another, modifying effects. This was the nature of the Western Front though we have been slow to recognize it. In Parenthesis is authentic in its reflection of Jones' distillation of that experience.”

 

The task of the poet here is to bring order out of chaos and Jones does that. It is a remarkable work which should be one of the standard works. It is challenging and not easy to read and is well worth the effort. I think it is one of the greatest works ever written about war.

10 out of 10

Starting Love among the butterflies by Margaret Fountaine

 

 

[Books do furnish a room]

At present I am reading

 

The Tunnel by William Gass

 

The Dark Jester by Wilson Harris

 

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

 

Love among the Butterflies by Margaret Fountaine

 

Unbridled Spirits; Women of the English Revolution by Stevie Davies

 

The Passion of the New Eve by Angela Carter

 

The Orchard on Fire by Shena Mackay

[Athena]

That's a lot of books at one time! Don't you get confused? I would get confused .

[frankie]

I hope you have a great reading year in 2015! Looking forward to reading your reviews, as always  

[bobblybear]

I hope you have a great reading year.

[Kylie]

As always, I look forward to reading your excellent review, Books. I'm especially interested in your thoughts on the Vonnegut and Carter books you're reading at the moment. Happy reading!

[Books do furnish a room]

Thank you Frankie, Bobbly and Kylie. Athena; these days I seem to live in a permanent state of confusion! I have three books by my bedside and four elsewhere, so there is a semblance of order.

Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut
Rather funny and biting satire on religion, politics and the possibility of humanity managing to destroy the world; written at about the time of the Cuban missile crisis. It is narrated by John, who is also the main protagonist. There is a Moby Dick reference right at the beginning when John says “Call me Jonah”.
John is writing a book about what famous Americans did on the day the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. He is interested in Dr Felix Hoenikker who had been involved in the development of the bomb. As he is deceased John contacts his three rather odd children. The journey moves to a Caribbean island with a dictator. The whole encompasses a substance called ice nine, which makes water solidify at room temperature. It was invented by Hoenikker and his children appropriated it after his death. By various nefarious means the Americans and Soviets have it, as does the dictator of the Caribbean island of San Lorenzo (loosely based on Haiti). San Lorenzo also has its own religion Bokononism. This has been outlawed at the suggestion of its founder; thus making it more attractive. As does the fact that, as its founder says, it’s all “shameful lies” anyway.
The plot is about as far-fetched as it can be; but it is funny. The title of the novel refers of course to the children’s game of the same name and sums up Vonnegut’s approach to religion and politics (as expressed by one of the characters)
“No wonder kids grow up crazy. A cat's cradle is nothing but a bunch of X's between somebody's hands, and little kids look and look and look at all those X's . . . No damn cat, no damn cradle.”
Vonnegut seems to think the whole world is a bit of a mess and that fact in itself is actually rather funny. The whole is a bit disjointed, but there are some wonderful quotes and comments on modern life, Vonnegut never forgets he is an entertainer and there is none of the wordiness and complexity of some of his contemporaries.
It’s great fun and very readable with some satisfying pokes at the pomposity of religion, science and politics and we continue to need to be reminded how vital that is.

8 and a half out of 10

Starting Those Without Shadows by Francoise Sagan
 

[Chrissy]

Another year for me to read and enjoy your reviews. I hope you enjoy all your reading in 2015.   

[Kylie]

Great review of Cat's Cradle. Despite owning a copy of the book and seeing it mentioned on various lists over the years, I've never actually known what it was about.   It sounds great!

[Books do furnish a room]

Thank you Chrissy and Kylie

Love among the Butterflies; Margaret Fountaine

I picked this up at my favourite junk/antique/rummage shop, noting that I had never heard of Margaret Fountaine and perhaps I should have. She lived from 1862 to 1940 and was the daughter of a Norfolk clergyman. She kept detailed dairies from the age of 16; keeping notes and usually writing them up once a year. They run to twelve hefty volumes. Her will indicated that they should be sealed until 15 April 1978 in case they should shock (100 years after she begun them). They were duly unsealed and edited for publication. This volume covers 1878 to about 1913 and there is a follow on volume.

Margaret Fountaine was someone who clearly needed a purpose to her life. She started by drawing and spent some time travelling Britain sketching the inside of cathedrals. However her real passion became collecting and displaying butterflies. She is renowned amateur entomologist and lepidopterist and also an accomplished natural history illustrator. She travelled the world collecting specimens. Her development as a collector is interesting. She realised that taking specimens out of the wild was not always the best thing to do and so she began to take a female with eggs and raise her own. Many of the specimens in her collections were raised by her out in a variety of wild and dangerous places. Her butterfly collection is in a museum in Norwich and her illustrations are in the Natural History Museum

Fountaine had much to battle with; her upbringing was a very traditional Victorian one and she was given a strong sense of her own social standing and how she should relate to others and what was proper and improper. The diaries illustrate how she battled for years with her upbringing, sometimes constrained by it, often breaking free from it. Her relationships with men are fascinating. She is at times quite conventional, thinking she ought to get married to an appropriate man and be conventional (even getting engaged a couple of times. However instinctively she did not really wish to marry. She had an early passion for a chorister at Norwich Cathedral (much to the horror of her family) and even followed him to Ireland when he was dismissed for drunkenness. She did however have one long term relationship; with a man she hired as a dragoman (guide and interpreter), Kahlil Neimy, a Syrian born of Greek parents. They travelled together for 27 years until his death in 1928 (he was 15 years her junior). At various times they were engaged, they were certainly lovers, though not initially. He was devoted to her and travelled together all over the world; nursing each other through malaria. At times Fountaine was scandalised by her own behaviour, at other times not. She struggled with how to explain his presence to more conventional society. This was one of the most interesting aspects of the diaries; the internal conflict which she explains very well. At times Fountaine is very modern, unconventional and pioneering and at other times she feels she is betraying her upbringing and the standards she was brought up with.

At times she can appear racist and imperialist and of her time and then she breezes through convention with unexpected verve and takes the breath away with her warmth and acceptance of others. She was an early user of the bicycle, finding very useful for travelling to difficult places. She travelled all over the world, initially in Europe, then the Middle East, Africa, India, Australia, the US, into the Himalayas and Tibet. She died while collecting butterflies in Trinidad in 1940; still on the road (alone).

She was a truly independent woman, a keen supporter of women’s suffrage (although never in England long enough to do much about it). Included in her adventures were close encounters with Corsican bandits, malaria, numerous men intent on taking her virtue or worse (she rarely backed away from them, preferring to face and challenge them), she enjoyed aeroplanes and cars once they were available, jumped off a crashing train in the bush, got lost in the jungle (volume 2), slept in all sorts of unlikely places (becoming an expert in insects that bite in the night.

I found Margaret Fountaine in equal parts wonderful and irritating; but she was a remarkable and independent woman who deserves more recognition. Her sheer force of character shines through and her sense of adventure and sheer bravery are remarkable.

7 and a half out of 10

Starting Dorothy Richardson's 13 novel epic Pilgrimage. The first novel in the series is Pointed Roofs

Edited January 16, 2015 by Books do furnish a room

[frankie]

What a great review! Margaret Fountaine sounds absolutely fascinating. To think that if she'd lived today, she wouldn't have struggled with her life as much, what with living such an unconventional life. We've come a long way since then. 

[Kylie]

Wow, what a woman! It must have been a remarkable time to live through, what with the invention of planes, cars and bicycles. She is certainly a woman who lived her life to the full. What a shame that I had never heard of her before. I'm definitely adding this to my wishlist. Thanks for the wonderful review!

[Devi]

I'm also adding the book to my wishlist.

[frankie]

I checked the library for copies of the book and I'm in luck, they have just the one it takes! Going on my wishlist... 

[Kylie]

Oh, you lucky thing, Frankie! It's out of print now, so I'll have to buy a secondhand copy from somewhere.

[frankie]

Oh, you lucky thing, Frankie! It's out of print now, so I'll have to buy a secondhand copy from somewhere.

 

Oh, that's bad luck! I'm sorry (Maybe you need to take a look at your library as a possible source for books...  ) (Hey, how about Kindle?)

[bobblybear]

Sounds like an interesting read. I've never heard of Margaret Fountaine, but I have added the book to my wishlist. Really nice and detailed review.

[Books do furnish a room]

Thank you Frankie, Kylie, Bobblybear and Devi. I'm glad she is getting more attention, she certainly deserves it.

The Dark Jester by Wilson Harris

 

Another tour de force by one of my favourite novelists, Wilson Harris. I still don’t understand why he isn’t better known. He is difficult and magic realism isn’t to everyone’s taste, but for me he is one of the great South American/Caribbean novelists.

This novel reflects on a small but significant episode in South American history. The meeting between Pizarro the Spanish conquistador and the king of the Incas Atahualpa. The king is to be burnt at the stake (spreading the Christian Gospel was a robust affair), but avoids death by converting to Christianity and promising a room of gold to Pizarro for his freedom. Atahualpa is betrayed and killed.

Harris draws on myth and wisdom from a variety of sources; primarily South American, but also Buddhist and classical Greek; Plato’s cave even makes an appearance.  The narrator is dreaming the events and is known as the Dreamer. The Dreamer periodically transforms as he is occupied by different players in the drama and sees different perspectives. But we are looking at the Incan civilisation meeting European materialism.

The Dreamer is accompanied throughout by the Jester of the title. Harris’s way of writing is intense and it has a certain sensuality; for example, the Jester’s soundless laughing is described as “like a gathering storm on a Butterfly’s wing”. Harris recreates myth with the fusion of the various myths he brings to the novel; a reimagining of the horrific effect of meeting of two entirely different cultures. The Jester figure appears in other work by Harris and represents “the submerged authority of dispossessed peoples”. History and Cartesian logic have their limitations as the entry of the Greeks into Troy is contrasted with the fall of the Incas.

Dreaming has significance in Harris’s fiction being often an epistemological way into secrets and the unconscious and to the centre of creativity. The questions “What is History/Art/Prophecy/Truth?” are asked. It is a rich and multi-layered exploration of the destruction of a civilisation. If you like magic realism and complex structured novels this may be for you.

8 out of 10

Starting Journal of a Solitude by May Sarton

[pontalba]

All beautifully written reviews, Books.  I hadn't heard of Fountaine either.  Fascinating woman. 

[Books do furnish a room]

Thank you Pontalba

Here is another female author who should be much better known. Those slightly older than me who were aware of novelists in the 60s will know that Mackay started writing then; her first work being published when she was 16. She mixed in artistic circles and produced a body of work that was regarded as somewhat avant-garde. After a gap in the 1970s she began writing again in the 80s. This novel was short listed for the Booker Prize in 1996. Don’t let that put you off, it’s very good. Very good indeed; in fact in the late 1990s Julie Burchill referred to Mackay as “the best writer in the world today”.

It is an evocation of childhood in the 1950s in Kent. Evocations of childhood can be variable in quality and I’ve read a few that have been pretty bad. What Mackay manages to do is to combine the innocence of childhood with schoolroom trials and tribulations, eccentric small town characters, falling in and out with friends with a distinctly sinister undertone.

Percy and Betty Harlency leave London to run the Copper Kettle tearoom in Kent. The story is told by their daughter April looking back forty years later. It focuses on April and her best friend Ruby and the childhood difficulties they get into.  There is humour in the novel and the writing is poetic and very powerful. What really makes the novel so gripping are the underlying themes of child abuse. April’s family situation is a happy one, but Ruby’s parents can be violent and abusive, especially her father and especially when drunk. April, however, has troubles of her own in the form of an elderly man who is a regular at the café and who is well liked and respected by all. His stalking of her (seemingly innocent meetings, requests to visit for tea (groping’s in the kitchen whilst his wife is ill in another room) and more serious attentions whilst his wife as away all build up gradually and underlie what is otherwise quite an idyllic setting. The avuncular, cardigan wearing and seemingly jolly old man being a sinister predator is much more commonplace now, but Mackay draws and characterises Greenidge very well. April’s reactions, her feelings of shame and confusion, her inability to tell her parents, her wondering if it’s her fault is exceptionally well written. The supporting cast of characters are also very good; the cruel schoolteacher, Miss Fay, rigs very true. The lesbian couple Bobs and Dittany are engagingly eccentric and April’s London relatives provide some excellent comic turns when April’s brother arrives.

It all adds up to a very good whole and has persuaded me that I must read more of Mackay’s work.

8 and a half out of 10

Starting The Girls of Slender Means by Muriel Spark

[Janet]

My Mum has read The Orchard on Fire and I remember her really enjoying it - it sounds good, and as a Maid of Kent myself I think I should read it, so I've added it to my wish list!  

 

I hope you have a good reading year this year. 

[Books do furnish a room]

Thank you Janet; Mackay is certainly worth a look.

Those without Shadows by Francoise Sagan

This is Francoise Sagan’s third novel. It is brief and focuses on the lives of a group of Parisians. It is well written and stylish and has a certain insightfulness about it; even if at times it seems a little slight and self-indulgent. It follows a group of people, mostly young (some married, some not) over about a year. They fall in and out of love with each other, betray each other and lie to each other. The rule of thumb is that if you fall in love with someone, they will inevitably fall in love with someone else; if you are a married woman your spouse will also love someone else and be miserable because they don’t return his feelings.

There is a general pointlessness to it all, but Sagan does capture a time and place with some effective and stylish writing;

“They sat on a bench in the rain, which never ceased. They were dead tired. She told him she did not love him and he replied that it did not matter, and the poverty of their words brought tears to their eyes.”

There is an emptiness, superficiality and pointlessness at the heart of it all which even the characters recognize;

“The damp cigarette that Bernard tried unsuccessfully to light was symbolic of their lives, for they would never know real happiness and were aware of it, but they also felt that it was not at all important.”

There was also a worrying assumption that any attractive young female was the property (not sure if that is precisely the correct word) of any middle-aged and sophisticated male who took a fancy to her. There is certainly a variety of characters, many of them are amoral, but you have the tortured artist types, those arrived from the provinces who are intensely naïve and predators of both sexes.

I don’t think I’m selling this very well, but it is an interesting period piece and has a certain style and polish and can easily be read in one sitting.

6 and a half out of 10

Starting Nina Balatka by Anthony Trollope

[Books do furnish a room]

The Passion of New Eve

It’s been too long since I’ve read any Carter and after this rollercoaster ride, it won’t be too long before I read more. As always Carter is difficult to pin down and this novel is science fiction, fairy tale, dystopia and much more. It’s crammed full of ideas, challenges, satire and plays a great deal with notions of identity and gender.

There will be minor spoilers; necessary to have any meaningful discussion of the novel; however in many ways the plot isn’t the point, the ideas are. The focus of the novel is Evelyn, an Englishman starting a university job in New York. His travels across the US are Odyssey like and he experiences strange, fabulous and bizarre things. During the journey he becomes Eve, losing more than just the lyn at the end of his name; but learning and becoming, a metamorphosis by surgery. Having been abusive towards a woman in New York called Leilah, Eve now experiences a male world. The gender change was without choice and so implies no change in awareness; consequently there is a male identity in a female body. The experiences that follow result in comprehension rather than integration.

Carter’s America is a dystopia, dividing into factions. There are vigilante groups based on race, an all-female underground city, California has left the Union and is riven by Civil War and there are a variety of groupings in the desert where Eve has a series of traumatic experiences. The urban landscape of New York (where the novel starts) is grim and decaying, illustrated by the language Carter uses; especially the colours (acid yellow, mineral green). As always Carter’s language is rich and detailed, bawdy and vivid. The ideas follow each other with rapidity and Plato’s cave pops up at the end with a good twist. Carter satirises and critiques certain types of matriarchy. Hope Jennings makes an interesting point when she argues;

“Carter’s texts force us to think through the problems that arise when women attempt to assert a specifically feminine/sexual subject while continuing to define themselves according to male representations or symbols of femininity. She reminds us of the risks that accompany a female imaginary when it fails to remain self-conscious or critical of the position and/or premises from which it speaks; when contesting the myths of patriarchy, a feminist discourse must avoid the trap of falling for its own myths that it appropriates or sets up”

The whole is a great ride and the relationship with Hollywood film star Tristessa and the way Carter plays with the Tiresias myth is wonderfully inventive. The plot and narrative are secondary, but Carter manages to startle and amuse at the same time as making the reader think and question; quite an achievement.

8 out of 10

Starting The Waves by Virginia Woolf

[Kylie]

Great review! I wasn't sure if I had this on my TBR pile, but I do (yay!) Can't wait to read it now.

[Alexi]

Great review! the Passion of New Eve is going straight on my wishlist!