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Recent reading
Mar. 30th, 2021 05:01 pmIt's being a bit of a week at work. The weather is really nice today—we're having a March mini-heatwave, and I've been sitting outside watching frogs and butterflies and some blue tits building a nest—but I'm tired, so I've been reading some short books...
Miss Pym Disposes by Josephine Tey (1946). This book is about Miss Pym, a retired teacher who's unexpectedly become a celebrity after writing a popular book on psychology, visiting a women's Physical Training College (a post-school institution whose curriculum covers medicine, physiology and what would now be called sports science as well as sports and dance—not a type I've ever come across in real life, but apparently Tey attended one!) shortly before the students' final exams. After she's persuaded gradually to stay longer than she was intending, Miss Pym's visit becomes far more eventful than she expected it to be... I only vaguely recognised the name Josephine Tey, and had had this one recommended to me in the context of girls' school stories rather than murder mysteries, so I was caught slightly off guard by the turn the plot ends up taking, but once I'd got used to the idea I enjoyed it very much. I did think some of the relationships might have been more convincing if we'd had longer to get to know the characters, but the setting and drama were still exciting, and the 'psychological' angle was interesting, with issues of what we'd now think of as student mental health being touched on in contemporary terms. The book has a very nice last-page twist, a pointed commentary on something of a mystery genre cliche. And between Miss Pym's memories of her schooldays with the headmistress Henrietta (she, the little fourth-form rabbit, had admired the sixth-form Henrietta extravagantly) and the friendship between Pamela 'Beau' Nash and Mary Innes ('But normal, no. That David and Jonathan relationship.'), the relationships were pretty interesting. (I want lots of dark messed-up Innes/Nash femslash now...)
A Month in the Country by J. L. Carr (1980). Set in the North Riding of Yorkshire in 1920, where a local rich eccentric's will has provided for the employment of two veterans of the First World War in uncovering a medieval wall painting in the village church and searching for an ancestor's grave outside it. The book follows Tom Birkin, the one uncovering the wall painting, as he gradually settles into the village, acclimatising to the rural landscape, making friends with a local chapel-going family and falling rather unfortunately in love with the vicar's wife. There's also Birkin's quietly understanding friendship with Moon, the churchyard archaeologist, who has a past of his own. Altogether it's an odd book. It subverts the simple story of healing that it looks like at first, without undermining it entirely or being particularly cynical. It's short, but very dense in meaning; Carr has a talent for making little details carry a lot of weight, and for always picking just the right details in the right way. Then it has some very interesting things to say about time and memory—the present day of the story is twisted up with the medieval past of the wall-painting and the grave, with the characters' memories of the war and with the unspecified future from which Birkin narrates. And there are the details of Birkin's craft and profession, the process of uncovering the wall painting, and his sense of connection with the unknown medieval who painted it in the first place. I really enjoyed the book, and will probably keep thinking about it for a while. (There's also a film adaptation, which looks good—I may try and find it too).
Living Alone by Stella Benson (1919). I don't know how to summarise this one! It's set in London during the First World War, it's about magic and it's very strange. The plot, insofar as it has one, is about an ordinary young woman named Sarah Brown who meets a witch, and the various magical characters and places she goes to as a result. The magical worldbuilding is odd and very vivid—it has a kind of Lolly Willowes-ish way of introducing outlandish things casually and matter-of-factly, and blends the magic with the mundane especially memorably, both generally in the London setting and particularly as it relates to the war. (Honestly, much of the general impression I got from it was one of 'it's 1918 and I've gone slightly mad', but not necessarily in a bad way). There are some disconcerting plot twists and bits of imagery, and some pointed social satire on charitable committees, which was fun.
Miss Pym Disposes by Josephine Tey (1946). This book is about Miss Pym, a retired teacher who's unexpectedly become a celebrity after writing a popular book on psychology, visiting a women's Physical Training College (a post-school institution whose curriculum covers medicine, physiology and what would now be called sports science as well as sports and dance—not a type I've ever come across in real life, but apparently Tey attended one!) shortly before the students' final exams. After she's persuaded gradually to stay longer than she was intending, Miss Pym's visit becomes far more eventful than she expected it to be... I only vaguely recognised the name Josephine Tey, and had had this one recommended to me in the context of girls' school stories rather than murder mysteries, so I was caught slightly off guard by the turn the plot ends up taking, but once I'd got used to the idea I enjoyed it very much. I did think some of the relationships might have been more convincing if we'd had longer to get to know the characters, but the setting and drama were still exciting, and the 'psychological' angle was interesting, with issues of what we'd now think of as student mental health being touched on in contemporary terms. The book has a very nice last-page twist, a pointed commentary on something of a mystery genre cliche. And between Miss Pym's memories of her schooldays with the headmistress Henrietta (she, the little fourth-form rabbit, had admired the sixth-form Henrietta extravagantly) and the friendship between Pamela 'Beau' Nash and Mary Innes ('But normal, no. That David and Jonathan relationship.'), the relationships were pretty interesting. (I want lots of dark messed-up Innes/Nash femslash now...)
A Month in the Country by J. L. Carr (1980). Set in the North Riding of Yorkshire in 1920, where a local rich eccentric's will has provided for the employment of two veterans of the First World War in uncovering a medieval wall painting in the village church and searching for an ancestor's grave outside it. The book follows Tom Birkin, the one uncovering the wall painting, as he gradually settles into the village, acclimatising to the rural landscape, making friends with a local chapel-going family and falling rather unfortunately in love with the vicar's wife. There's also Birkin's quietly understanding friendship with Moon, the churchyard archaeologist, who has a past of his own. Altogether it's an odd book. It subverts the simple story of healing that it looks like at first, without undermining it entirely or being particularly cynical. It's short, but very dense in meaning; Carr has a talent for making little details carry a lot of weight, and for always picking just the right details in the right way. Then it has some very interesting things to say about time and memory—the present day of the story is twisted up with the medieval past of the wall-painting and the grave, with the characters' memories of the war and with the unspecified future from which Birkin narrates. And there are the details of Birkin's craft and profession, the process of uncovering the wall painting, and his sense of connection with the unknown medieval who painted it in the first place. I really enjoyed the book, and will probably keep thinking about it for a while. (There's also a film adaptation, which looks good—I may try and find it too).
Living Alone by Stella Benson (1919). I don't know how to summarise this one! It's set in London during the First World War, it's about magic and it's very strange. The plot, insofar as it has one, is about an ordinary young woman named Sarah Brown who meets a witch, and the various magical characters and places she goes to as a result. The magical worldbuilding is odd and very vivid—it has a kind of Lolly Willowes-ish way of introducing outlandish things casually and matter-of-factly, and blends the magic with the mundane especially memorably, both generally in the London setting and particularly as it relates to the war. (Honestly, much of the general impression I got from it was one of 'it's 1918 and I've gone slightly mad', but not necessarily in a bad way). There are some disconcerting plot twists and bits of imagery, and some pointed social satire on charitable committees, which was fun.
