I always seem to be reading Far Too Many books at once. "Always" being, for my entire life it seems. I remember being nine or ten and reading two Anne of Green Gables books at once, confusing myself horribly in the process (I could never remember how old Anne was supposed to be in each book... and why she was doing that thing when she already had experienced the negative consequences of doing exactly that thing. And so on). As a rule though, multiple-and-simultaneous-book-reading has always treated me well and provides me with a good excuse to carry around something terribly literary-looking while cramming my head full of junk food writing at home.
So, on the window sill next to my bed is a whole stack of books. Most of them I am in the process of reading, or intending to read. Periodically, a book from Outside is introduced and consumed quickly before the other books notice and become jealous, books being notorious for their competitiveness and acute sense of self.
This is a plan to review two books alongside one another... I wanted to review a junk food novel beside something a little more *ahem* high brow. Because, really, reading should be also about enjoying yourself, right? And I've always preferred brief reviews to long ones.
BOOK ONE: The Forgotten Garden, by Kate Morton
This book is written by Australian author Kate Morton, and belongs in that particular type of historic novel genre where the action takes place in the immediate present and the distant past - a contemporary woman rediscovers a past tragedy - or in the case of books by Barbara Erskine, afore mentioned contemporary woman is possessed by the ghost of a wronged historic woman.
This book: At an Edwardian-era Queensland dock a mysterious abandoned child is discovered and adopted by an ordinary working class couple. The child grows up to be this woman, Nell, who discovers that she has *a secret past* and decides to find out who she *really is*. But, things get complicated and some time later she dies without working out the mystery of her origin. Then there's this woman (Nell's granddaughter), Cassandra, who has suffered an undisclosed recent trauma (we're well in the present now). Nell dies, Cassandra inherits a mysterious cottage in Cornwall and then goes to the UK to finish Nell's investigation (where she finds closure and new love).
Gains points: mocked up Pre-Raphaelite-style Edwardian children's stories in the text.
Loses points: a good historic novel should have sexy bits. There are no sexy bits.
Read or don't read: read during your summer holiday, on a beach. Or on a wintery Sunday morning in bed. You won't remember much, but the book does fill a momentary need... and really, what is Life but a series of moments?
BOOK TWO: Brideshead Revisited, by Evelyn Waugh
And yes I do have this ugly-covered version.
Two things determined my wanting-to-read this book: firstly, there was a new dramatisation of this made quite recently, which I didn't see, but my interest was piqued; secondly, Bella made a comment about Bea being a little bit "Brideshead Revisited". I can't remember what it was in reference to and it makes even less sense to me now that I've read the book, but again, my interest was piqued.
This novel is about English upper-class types, Oxbridge culture, ill-fated friendships and people getting all lovey and lusty on one another, Catholic guilt, and drinking yourself to death. There's some of that Vile Bodies-esque debauch going on too. Oh, and a teddy bear.
Gains points: fucking fantastic book. It's compulsory that you read this, preferably with a nice stiff gin in hand.
Loses points: there's always something very very very sad about the decline of a fantastic character, and I hated that Sebastian declined. But I guess that's just part of the plot and I should just get over it. Can't get so attached to characters *sighs*. And what's the deal with Charles sleeping with Julia? It seems to labour a point, rather.
Read or don't read: read read read read read. And please don't be annoyed at me for such a gross spoiler (above).
How am I Brideshead Revisited? Is it my crippling sense of Catholic guilt that gave it away? Or is it my tedency to name inanimate objects and furnish them with personalities and complicated backstories? Ooh I know, it's my idolisation of beautiful young men I met at Oxford and subsequent seducing of their sisters, isn't it?
ReplyDeleteI think it had something to do with your hair.
ReplyDeleteYes, well. Or that.
ReplyDelete