regshoe

I don't often DNF a book, especially not when I'm already most of the way through it, and I'm sorry to say that this one was worth breaking that habit:

DNF'd Red Shift by Alan Garner (1973). I don't know, I don't want to be too hasty to make an objective judgement out of a squick; but regardless of whether male authors, or any authors, should be writing books in which so many women get brutally raped, I certainly don't want to be reading them. (After abandoning the book I remembered the blurb-quote from Neil Gaiman that I'd cut off the front cover so I didn't have to keep looking at it, and that really made me want to scrub my brain out.) And I suppose I'm upset to have suddenly encountered this from an author I considered a favourite. And it's a shame, because otherwise this book has its good points—it's definitely doing the 'deep time' thing that The Owl Service does, more explicitly, for example. But no.

Otherwise, I've just been reading about plants:

The Hidden World of Mosses by Neil Bell and Des Callaghan (2023). A book made up of a lot of really gorgeous photographs of bryophytes and some text talking about their natural history, ecology, evolution etc. The photos are really gorgeous, and the text contains a lot of interesting information, although it is not terribly elegantly-written and I think Bell was a little too afraid of sounding scientific and putting people off (he explains the word 'bryophyte' early on in the book but then goes on mostly saying 'mosses and their relatives' later, for instance)—or perhaps it was too much assuming the typical reader would be flipping through looking at the pretty pictures and only reading the text in bits and pieces rather than all the way through.

Mary's Meadow and Other Tales of Fields and Flowers by Juliana Horatia Ewing (1895). A collection of Ewing's writings relating to plants and gardening, published variously in magazines during her lifetime and assembled and published in book form posthumously by her sister. There are two longer stories about contemporary children and their gardens, which are as fun and charming as Ewing always is; the descriptions of all the plants are lovely, and I like how she writes child logic and POVs (although 'we learn, via the child narrator who doesn't understand this, that the narrator's parents and one of her two siblings died from a disease caused by a contaminated well, which the parents suspected was a problem and tried to fix before they fell ill but were persuaded against it by their ignorant servant; the well is still making the surviving children sick' was a bit darker than I was expecting, honestly). Then there are some short non-fiction pieces aimed at young gardeners; and some more fairytale-like stories, including my fave 'The Trinity Flower' again, which was lovely to revisit. I enjoyed all of them very much, and have got lots of gardening ideas from them! I love the 'hose-in-hose' double cowslips of 'Mary's Meadow', which look very pleasingly silly.

Surpassing the Love of Men: Romantic Friendship and Love between Women from the Renaissance to the Present by Lillian Faderman (1981). As a New Year's present to myself I went and ordered a small stack of books on lesbian history, and this was the first one that arrived. It's all about the various sorts of relationships between women which existed in Europe and North America from the sixteenth century to the 1970s, and was interesting and thought-provoking in its interpretations. Faderman's argument goes something like: Throughout the early modern period, passionate and romantic relationships between women were common and were not seen as deviant or wrong, partly because they were assumed not to be sexual (and in most cases probably weren't), and partly because the women involved ultimately mostly had to marry men for economic reasons, so they weren't a threat to the heterosexual order. This changed in the late nineteenth century with the rise of the feminist movement, when women started to become more economically independent; now more women could choose to form relationships with each other instead of with men, and were seen as usurping men's roles in society through this and through their work. Thus relationships between women began to be criticised and pathologised—partly, with the contemporary emergence of sexology and the scientific view of homosexuality, through increasingly being portrayed in terms of deviant sexuality. In the twentieth century, many lesbians internalise the gloomy view of themselves as pitiable deviants; but with the second wave of feminism, women are reclaiming the personal and political significance of lesbian relationships. All very interesting stuff! I most enjoyed the early, historical parts of the book, which were quite thought-provoking in their presentation of romantic friendship and ideas about how the types of feelings and relationships people have can depend on culture—the book argues that, with the twentieth century's increased acknowledgement of sexuality as an element in people's lives, the borders of acceptable friendship have narrowed, whereas in the eighteenth century passionate, romantic feelings and a desire for exclusive commitment were seen as normal elements of a certain kind of platonic friendship. (I thought this could perhaps benefit from the perspective of the modern asexual community, insofar as the relationships described are basically what might now be called queerplatonic partnerships). The later part of the book is more political argument than history, and it's not a very convincing one—it's very much the perspective of second-wave feminism and political lesbianism, it really doesn't seem like a good idea to mix politics and one's personal relationships to quite that extent, and at times Faderman almost seems to be denying the idea of lesbianism as a distinct type of experience vs. relationships between women as a political choice that any woman can make. There's some of this earlier on in the book too, where I did think the divisions made between lesbian sexuality as something written and theorised about by men vs. real women's platonic relationships were perhaps overstated.

...next in the stack is Passions Between Women by Emma Donoghue, which I've just started reading and which looks like being an interesting counterpoint to this book! We shall see...

Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin's Dovecot and Other Stories by Juliana Horatia Ewing (1884 for both title stories; I'm not sure of the date of the collection). Some Victorian children's stories—a recommendation from Edward Thring, who was a friend of Ewing's and admired her writing. 'Jackanapes' is a story about a child growing up during the Napoleonic Wars, and the relationship between the military and English society (Ewing is keen on the army, in the patriotic 'dulce et decorum est' way); 'Daddy Darwin's Dovecot' is about a boy from the workhouse who Improves Himself through virtue and industry, and also pigeons; and then there are several shorter stories, of which my favourite was 'The Trinity Flower', a fairytale-style story involving a lot of meaningful religious imagery and symbolism and also a lot of botany. On the whole, very good stuff—Ewing's writing is lovely, the stories are fun and enjoyably Victorian. I especially liked the nostalgic 'the old days' presentation of the Napoleonic War era in 'Jackanapes', and the mystical imagery and nature/botanical descriptions of 'The Trinity Flower'. And, the latter being a fairy tale, I was just in time to nominate it for once_upon_fic!

('Juliana Horatia Ewing' is a very D. K. Broster character-ful name, isn't it).

Mrs Farrell by William Dean Howells (1921, but first published in an earlier version in 1875). I decided to try another Howells, and this one sounded especially interesting. It's about Rosabel 'Belle' Farrell, a young widow who, lodging for the summer in a New England farming village, befriends the landlady's daughter Rachel, who has some artistic talent, and captivates the hearts of both Gilbert and Easton, a pair of devoted friends who fought together in the Civil War and had a dramatic backstory of honour and betrayal and probably lots of tender and fraught hurt/comfort, and who are now so inseparably attached that Howells and the other characters repeatedly compare them to lovers. What the book is really about is Howells's views on the tension between love and friendship, as played out in the drama between Mrs Farrell, Easton and Gilbert. Mrs Farrell provokes a falling-out between the men by dredging up the sore points of their Civil War backstory; subsequently Easton, who has now declared his passion for Mrs Farrell, falls ill and Gilbert starts being tortured and passionate about his own feelings for Mrs Farrell while Easton can't do anything about it. Mrs Farrell is torn between the two; meanwhile, Rachel is off to the side being consistently sensible and quietly artistic. (Rachel provides an opportunity for Howells to talk about some of the same 'art and gender' thoughts that play a more prominent part in The Coast of Bohemia; here they never really go anywhere definite). The book's conclusions about love and friendship and how the one inevitably interferes with, destroys and triumphs over the other might have been depressing; in fact they are pretty interesting as a development of one set of views on the matter, but really the Drama of it all was too much fun for me to be very upset. And the ending is interestingly ambivalent. I also enjoyed the setting—a farming community which has seen better days, and which now provides lodgings for ladies from Boston and New York escaping to the country for the summer—which is described in colourful detail.