regshoe: (Reading 1)
Re-read Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell (1853). Lovely, of course! Partway through, though, I was starting to find the charmingly humorous foibles of it all a bit much; but the edition I read contained an afterword which argued that beneath the charming surface of this book is a vicious criticism of the sensibilities, priorities and morals of the industrial urban world which the town of Cranford is set against, and on reflection I like the book better for seeing it that way. It's also a fascinating and highly valuable source of little historical details. I especially enjoyed the bits of Jenkyns family history which look back to the late eighteenth century—seeing one historical period as then-recent history from the perspective of a slightly later but now still firmly historical period is always fascinating. Also the bit about how great and enjoyable a writer Charles Dickens [who was Gaskell's friend] is, and how the narrative amusedly indulges Miss Jenkyns's stubborn foible of preferring Dr Johnson to him.

Ben o' Bill's, the Luddite: A Yorkshire Tale by D. F. E. Sykes and George Henry Walker (1898). [personal profile] skygiants mentioned this historical novel in a recent review of a disappointing non-fiction book about the Luddites, and I was immediately attracted by the title. It is pretty much exactly what it sounds like: the story of the machine-breaking movement in the neighbourhood of Huddersfield during the economic depression caused by the Napoleonic Wars' effects on trade, as experienced by a rather naively decent (and irritatingly heterosexual) young protagonist who sympathises with the privations of poor weavers whose jobs are threatened by new machines but is appropriately horrified by the violence the Luddites resort to. (The attitudes in this Luddite novel would make an interesting compare-and-constrast with those in some Jacobite novels, possibly.) Ben's cousin George, who actually gets to murder an evil mill owner Colin Campbell-style, is much more interesting, as is John Booth, the possibly-implicitly-queer clergyman's son who is too good to survive the pivotal attack on the mill but who gets some amazing last words in the process. The West Yorkshire dialect, in which much of the dialogue is written, was also enjoyable—I was especially struck by the apparent flexibility of second person pronouns (characters often switch between you-ing and tha-ing the same people, sometimes even within a sentence).

At this point I was cruelly struck down by a dreadful lurgy, and spent three days in bed/on the sofa reading Angela Brazil novels:

A Pair of Schoolgirls, A Popular Schoolgirl and Loyal to the School by Angela Brazil (1912, 1920 and 1921 respectively). Possibly an unrepresentative sample of Brazil's work, as none of these are actually boarding school stories—two are set at day schools and one's heroine is a weekly boarder at a school where most of the pupils are day-girls. The confined, clearly-bounded setting is something I like about boarding school books, and it was a bit disappointing not to get that here—all three books have a lot about the heroines' home lives and other affairs beyond the school, often including an amount of background male characters and heterosexuality. Similarly, there is certainly an amount of the sentimental friendship Brazil has a reputation for, direct comparisons of schoolgirl friends to courting couples included—Loyal to the School, whose heroine is named Lesbia and inspires a jealousy between at one point three other girls who have crushes on her, is especially good for this—but none of the books really seemed interested in committing to a story about these relationships, all being much more focussed on the heroines' individual development. Brazil is very good at writing realistic teenage character flaws—thoughtless selfishness, oversensitivity to imaginary slights, readiness to be very dramatic—and amazing at naming characters (besides Lesbia, A Popular Schoolgirl features the Saxon siblings, Athelstane, Edgar, Quenrede, Ingred and Hereward).

I am now more or less recovered and have plunged into Wilkie Collins's No Name, which so far is amazing and highly, highly recommended to Armadale fans.
regshoe: Black and white picture of a man reading a large book (Reading 2)
The last few books of the year, plus a couple that I read for Yuletide reasons and hence didn't post about at the time. :)

Re-read Persuasion by Jane Austen (1817). Aww, this one was very well worth a re-read—one of my favourites by Austen, I think. I love Anne very much, and I enjoy the quiet and powerful longing of the developing relationship, and of course I love Sophia Croft and her husband very much too. I was also especially struck this time by the sense of a wider world beyond the limited social sphere of the immediate events, which all the naval characters and discussion of Navy life provide. Yeah, these books are actually set in the same world as the Hornblower novels, I can see it...

Irresolute Catherine by Violet Jacob (1908). This was a disappointment, I'm afraid! It's another one set in contemporary Wales; the title Catherine was engaged to one man, broke it off and later became engaged to another man, but at the time the book opens is still wavering between them. Although, to be fair to Jacob, the one Catherine ultimately chooses is less bad than the other, neither love interest is an especially good prospect—they're both possessively jealous in the really unappealing way, and both run roughshod over Catherine's 'irresoluteness'. Also I really disliked the way the important moment of Catherine's gaining the courage to make her own choices is inspired by a) a factually incorrect belief about one of her love interests treating her badly, instead of the various correct instances she could have come to recognise, b) jealousy of another woman who is described and treated by the narrative in decidedly unfeministical terms.

Cousin Phillis and Other Stories by Elizabeth Gaskell (written and originally published from 1850 to 1864; this collection published 2010). This was a bit of a puzzle; according to my reading log I read at least the novella 'Cousin Phillis' itself in 2016, but reading it again now I did not remember or recognise anything about it (and I can remember at least a little about all the other books I read around the same time and haven't re-read since). Is Gaskell particularly unmemorable? I wouldn't have thought so. No idea whether I read the other stories then too. Anyway, this is a collection of short stories plus one novella, mostly dealing with Gaskell's favourite theme of changes in society in the first half of the nineteenth century as experienced in the northwest of England, especially Manchester and its environs. I enjoyed them on the whole! One story is a sympathetic take on the problem of the unmarried mother, with interesting differences from the novel Ruth. A couple more, including 'Cousin Phillis', deal with women being jilted by men and subsequently remaining single; the men involved are too much Really Not Worth It to see the stories as especially tragic, but they're enjoyable, and the rural northwestern settings are very nice.

The Killing of the Red Fox: An Investigation into the Appin Murder by Seamus Carney (1989). Good readable account of the Appin murder and its surroundings. Much of the detail of the trial was not new to me, having already read the trial records, but Carney puts some things in context that I hadn't fully understood and adds a lot of interesting background material which was new to me (apart from having seen some of it in [personal profile] muccamukk's meta posts!). Among other things, definite primary evidence for historical Allan Breck's age at the time of the murder being about thirty, the fact that at least one witness provably lied at the trial so as to incriminate Allan, and more thorough information about Allan's later life and French military career than anyone else seems to have turned up. (I have begun adding this to his Wikipedia article.) Having gone through the history, Carney summarises what other people have since written about the murder, calling Kidnapped 'an adventure yarn that will endure as long as the art of narrative'; he then gives his own judgements on the mystery, concluding that a) the shot was fired by Allan Breck and b) while it's not certain that James of the Glens wasn't involved, he probably wasn't, and the jury were certainly not justified in convicting him based on the available evidence; and finally sets out a speculative theory of exactly what happened, in which Allan Breck planned the murder in concert with James's eldest son Allan Beg Stewart and an unknown third man, without James's knowledge. So there you go.

And for Yuletide...

Superstitions of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland by John Gregorson Campbell (1900). Read as research for my supernatural Kidnapped story! Much of the book is about the fairies, and this gave me lots of good material, but I was enjoying it enough to continue onto the rest, which covers other superstitions such as the Glaistig (supernatural beings associated with particular places; I'm sure Ardroy has one) and the water-horse (my goodness, Highland water-horses are brutal! Brrr). Gregorson Campbell thoroughly disapproves of superstition, and occasionally gets sidetracked from the accounts of supernatural creatures and folktales to go on a digression explaining this to the reader; this made an entertaining contrast with Robert Kirk of The Secret Commonwealth, who believes what he's writing about.

And re-read Howards End by E. M. Forster (1910) Oh, I love this book. ♥ Characters, settings, themes, prose, all really wonderful. Of course I was canon-reviewing to write Margaret/Ruth femslash, so I especially paid attention to them, and I love them both and their relationship very much; I was also especially struck by Miss Avery, who so well understands what's going on and sees everything right in the end.
regshoe: Illustration of three small, five-petalled blue flowers (Pentaglottis sempervirens)
15. Favourite fictional father.

There were several possibilities for this one—I could have gone with 'best dad in fiction', which would obviously have been Fëanor, but instead I've chosen one who's narratively interesting even if not always the best parent: Mr Gibson from Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell.

Gaskell is very good at complex father characters, but I think Mr Gibson is the best (as are all the other common features of her work in this book, actually, it's just a really good book). He's a well-intentioned person placed in a difficult situation by the chances of his own life and the strictures of society, and Gaskell portrays with beautiful detail his not always terribly wise choices in dealing with that situation. I love his relationship with Molly, his daughter—the simple love they have for each other through everything, and the painful little details of how that love gets more difficult as things come between them. His relationship with his step-daughter Cynthia is also great—unlike him and Molly, they're very different, and yet they're clearly very good for each other and come to care about each other a great deal, and after everything Cynthia went through earlier in life it's really heartwarming.

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