WWW Wednesday!

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It’s the first Wednesday of the month, so it’s time for WWW Wednesday, an idea I borrowed from David Chazan, The Chocolate Lady, who borrowed it from someone else. For this feature, I report

  • What I am reading now
  • What I just finished reading
  • What I intend to read next

This is something you can participate in, too, if you want, by leaving comments about what you’ve been reading or plan to read.

What I am reading now

I’m reading Precipice by Robert Harris. It’s about British Prime Minister Asquith at the start of World War I and his affair with a much younger woman, Venetia Stanley (a descendent of the Venetia Stanley who was the main character in Viper Wine, by the way). Usually, his books are well researched and quite suspenseful, but I’m finding this one slow to get into and so far not that interesting. We’ll see if it improves. It seems like a similar subject to his book Munich, which was about Chamberlain trying to fight off World War II, but so far I found that novel a lot more compelling.

What I just finished reading

I just read Pure Wit: The Revolutionary Life of Margaret Cavendish by Francesca Peacock. I’m not quite sure what possessed me to read two biographies of the same woman so close together (I read Mad Madge by Katie Whitaker last year), but I still found it interesting. This one is more academic than the other.

What I will read next

Now, that’s the question this time. I periodically look for books for my projects at the library first, hoping not to have to buy them, and this time four of them arrived at the same time. (I put them on hold and go pick them up when they’re ready.) I had been waiting for Telephone by Percival Everett for months. For the second time, it looks like the library gave up on it being returned and bought a new copy, because I was first in line for the hold and it took me several months to get it, and it looks new and unread. Once I read it, I will have finished the shortlist for the 2021 Pulitzer Prize. It’s about a geologist who doesn’t seem to know how to deal with his family’s problems. If it’s anything like the others by him I’ve read, it’s funny and angry.

Also for my Pulitzer Prize project is The Netanyahus by Joshua Cohen. It will be the first book I’ve read from the 2022 shortlist. I don’t usually check out two books for the same project at once, but I had been waiting so long to get Telephone and had no idea it would arrive at the same time. This book is supposed to be funny, so I might read it last. It seems as if my sense of humor is out of sync with other people’s these days.

The book that sounds most interesting to me is These Days by Lucy Caldwell, about two women living in Belfast during World War II. It’s the last book I have to read for the 2023 Walter Scott Historical Fiction prize shortlist, so that’s another reason to read it first. It hasn’t been available from the library until now.

Finally, there’s Western Lane by Chetna Maroo, which combines two things I’m not terribly interested in, coming-of-age novels and sports (although I used to follow tennis, which is the sport in the book, and yes, I have reviewed two tennis books on this blog, Open by Andre Agassi and Levels of the Game by John McPhee). It’s the last book I need to read for the 2023 shortlist for the Booker Prize, though. That’s three books that are the last ones I need to read for a certain year and prize, which makes it harder to pick. It has one advantage over the others. It’s very short (although I notice the print is tiny).

Which one would you pick? Maybe I’ll let my commenters decide. And what have you been reading lately?

Review 2709: The Town House

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The Town House is the first book in Norah Lofts’ Suffolk Trilogy. Fairly early in the book, a 14th century serf, who later calls himself Martin Reed, escapes from his manor with the knowledge that if he can live in a walled city for a year and a day without being captured, he is free. With him is Kate, the young woman he intends to marry.

The novel follows three generations of Martin’s family. At first, everything he tries comes to nothing. Already trained as a smith by his father, he serves an extra year of apprenticeship only to have the guild decline to make him a member, which means he cannot be a smith. Hired by a carter and asked to privately shoe horses, his work is discovered and the guild attacks him and leaves him for dead. All these years, his family lives in abject poverty. It is not until he does a favor for the church that he finally gets an opportunity, but it is too late to save his family from tragedy.

The book is divided into five parts, from the point of view of different characters. The first is Martin himself. The second is Old Agnes, a homeless woman he takes as housekeeper after the tragedy. The third is Anne Blanchefleur, the young woman of good family but no fortune who marries Richard, the now wealthy Martin’s son. The fourth is Maude Reed, Martin’s granddaughter. The fifth is Nicholas Freeman, Martin’s secretary.

Although the beginning of this book is almost identical to that of Cathedral of the Sea (The Town House is written earlier), I was more involved in The Town House. Martin’s prosperity and home are built on tragedy and betrayal. This is a story of complex characters, many with deep faults. I found it interesting in both the story it told and in the background details about Medieval life, especially in the section narrated by Maude, who goes to live for a time in the household of a wealthy and noble cousin. I have already ordered the second book in this series.

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Review 2708: #ReadingIrelandMonth26: The Land of Spices

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The Land of Spices is my final book for Reading Ireland Month, and it’s a novel about two females—the Mother Superior of an Irish convent and Anna, a young girl who comes to the convent school as a student several years before the school usually accepts students.

Marie-Hélene, the Mother Superior, was very happy in her convent in Belgium, but feels isolated in Ireland. Some of the higher-ranking nuns in the convent find her cold and detached, although the ordinary nuns like her. And the Bishop doesn’t like his lack of authority over the order or that she is English. In the beginning of the novel, she has written a letter to the Mère Générale asking to be transferred when she notices Anna.

Anna at six is the youngest child ever admitted to the school. Her parents feel that their household is unsettled enough that the children are better off at school. The Mother Superior sees something pure and attentive in Anna, so she makes a point of having her memorize poems and come to her to recite them when she is young to help in her reserved way make Anna more comfortable.

This novel follows the lives of these two, Anna as she grows and develops intellectually and the Mother Superior as she does her best to guide the school and convent. It is said to be quite autobiographical, Anna being the stand-in for O’Brien herself.

I couldn’t always follow the subtleties of the Mother Superior’s devotion. As a girl, she had no intention of being a nun but turned to it after what she considered a betrayal by her much-loved father. However, she slowly finds herself suited to the life.

Religious devotion isn’t my thing, so I found Anna’s story a little more appealing. As the novel comes toward completion, though, it becomes more obvious why the two are paired, even though most of their lives at the convent are separate.

This novel is more about character and intellectual ruminations than plot, and so it’s a bit slow moving.

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Review 2707: #ReadingIrelandMonth26! Oscar Wilde

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This book isn’t written by an Irishman, but since it is about an Irish writer, I think it qualifies for Reading Ireland Month. Thanks to Dean Street Press for providing this interesting biography of Oscar Wilde, originally published in 1976.

Oscar Wilde has always seemed to me a fascinating and tragic figure. He was well known for his wit and perfect sentences. I have often considered whether his remarks were studied, but contemporaries seemed to believe that they were all extemporaneous, which is amazing.

Sheridan Morley’s biography of Wilde is not the exhaustive kind that ends up submerged in trivial details. Instead, it is short, appears to be aimed at the general public, and provides just enough information along with a few quotes from his work or writings about him. It’s well written and moves along nicely.

I have read details of his disgrace before, but this novel deals a lot less harshly with Lord Alfred Douglas’s part in it. It makes a point that Wilde had been behaving recklessly, apparently under the impression that he was so popular he was untouchable.

Of course, Wilde’s trial and imprisonment are great travesties of British justice and losses to British literature. As he wrote in the years before the event four major comedies (the point made that they were the only major English comic plays written in the 100 years before), who knows how many other works—and what kind—he could have produced?

This is an enjoyable and interesting book about a man who was determined from a very young age to be either famous or infamous, so he said, and achieved both.

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Review 2706: Classics Club Spin Result! Love’s Labour’s Lost

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Love’s Labour’s Lost is the work I drew for the Classics Club spin, and it seems like a bit of a curiosity. Despite having taken several Shakespeare courses during my academic days and having attended quite a few performances, I have never read this play or seen it performed.

My Riverside edition says that the play is Shakespeare’s most Elizabethan, with lots of wordplay and references to current events and people. It also has hardly any plot. It is certain that it is meant to be a romp and that lots of things went over my head.

The King of Navarre intends to found a learned Academe in his court. To kick it off, he has got three noblemen of his court to join, and part of this is a vow to only study and fast, and to stay away from women for three years. This silly idea is already threatened, because the King has forgotten he is to receive a state visit from the Princess of France.

There is a lot of tomfoolery with the Clown and a boastful Spaniard, but the thrust of the story is that of course as soon as the young men see the Princess and her ladies in waiting, they all fall in love. But they have already made a bad impression by receiving the Princess in a field (so as not to have broken the vow to have no women at court) and the ladies are not disposed to take them seriously.

In general, I tend to get along a little better with Shakespeare’s tragedies than comedies, except that I love Much Ado about Nothing. I also think the comedies are much more effective when played than read. Sections of this play are almost all punning and wordplay, but Shakespeare has been able to introduce some beautiful lines in the form of love billets. In any case, this wasn’t my favorite of his plays.

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Review 2705: The Funeral Party

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I don’t often get gifts of books anymore, so I was delighted to receive this novella at Christmas.

Alik, a charismatic Russian emigree artist, is dying in his New York City loft apartment. He has been overwhelmed by a mysterious complaint that has robbed him of his muscle control, limb by limb. Soon his diaphragm muscles will stop working and he’ll suffocate.

Surrounding him are his friends, people from all walks of life, from several countries, but mostly Russians. It’s 1991, a very hot summer. As Alik is dying, we learn about the people there, how they met Alik, and what he has meant to them.

Irina, Alik’s old school friend, is a circus performer turned lawyer who is suing a gallery for not returning some of Alik’s paintings after a show. Her teenage daughter has developed an immediate affinity for Alik.

Nina, Alik’s slightly dim partner, has been convinced by a healer that her cures for Alik will only work if he is baptized. Alik is an atheist, but he was raised Jewish, so he tells her he will only see the Russian Orthodox priest if he can see a rabbi, too. When they arrive at the same time, it makes for an interesting encounter.

Now I get to talk about book blurbs again, because one quote on the book calls the novel “riotously funny.” It is so not riotous that it makes me wonder about the NY Times reviewer that supposedly wrote that. I agree more with the quote from The New Yorker, which refers to its “quiet humor.”

During the novel the attempted coup against Mikhael Gorbachev takes place, and the Russians are glued to the TV. It made me wonder what they would think about the situation in Russian today.

I liked this novel, which is more about its characters than its plot. It explores some ideas about love, death, and identity while minutely observing life in a more bohemian neighborhood (Chelsea) of Manhattan.

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Review 2704: #ReadingIrelandMonth26! Glorious Exploits

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There seem to be lot of novels out recently that are set in the world of ancient history or myth. I have read a few of them, but it’s not really a time of interest for me. In fact, I am so ignorant of the Peloponnesian War that I thought it only involved Athens and Sparta. But it was a lot more widespread than I thought.

If it hadn’t been for my Walter Scott shortlist project, I wouldn’t have chosen this book to read. (For one thing, I find the cover off-putting.) And it didn’t start off very well for me. It is written completely in modern vernacular with an Irish accent, which I initially found grating. But I got used to it.

Lampo, our narrator, and Gelon are two mates, essentially layabouts. Lampo is 30 years old and still lives with his mother. They are Syracusans; it is 412 BC, a few years after the Athenians attacked Sicily. The Athenians were eventually beaten, and 7000 Athenian soldiers were imprisoned in the quarries of Syracuse, basically just left there.

Now Gelon decides to go to the quarry to feed the Athenians. He is a huge fan of the plays of Euripides, and he is afraid that with the defeat of Athens, Athenian culture will die out and Euripides’ work will be lost. So, he decides to put on a play using the Athenian soldiers for actors, paying them with food.

On the way into the quarry, Lampo and Gelon run into a grieving father, Biton, who has just beaten an Athenian to death and is working on his friend. Gelon talks Biton out of it, and this is when he announces his plan to direct Medea. They rescue the other Athenian, Paches, and Lampo decides he must be in the play. Much to Lampo’s astonishment, they manage to find funding for this project from a wealthy foreigner.

In the meantime, no-hoper Lampo has fallen in love with Lyra, a Lydian slave girl who works at his local bar. Her owner wants an exorbitant fee to sell her to Lampo so he can set her free, more money than he can hope to ever earn, but that’s what he vows to do. With these twin goals, Lampo begins to pull himself together.

“Riotously funny,” as the blurb calls it, this book is not, but I found Lennon to be a terrific storyteller. This novel is about the power of friendship, the importance of art, and personal loyalty. I would never have read it on my own, but it is rough, touching, and terrific.

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#ReadingIrelandMonth26: An Update to My Irish Writers Read in 2025 Post

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Well, I was really silly when I listed the books I read by Irish writers, because I searched by Ireland! But all my reading of Irish writers wasn’t set in Ireland. So, here is my original post, revised. The two additional books are listed with both the title and writer’s names in bold!

__________________

Cathy of 746 Books is hosting the 12th year of Reading Ireland Month, and although I usually participate just a bit by reviewing a book or two by an Irish author, I thought I’d take her suggestion this time and make a post about books by Irish authors I’ve read or reviewed during the last year. So here goes, I think in order of the reading! These are all books read in 2025, so there’s some overlap with last year’s event.

Review 2703: The Chuckling Fingers

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Ann Gay’s cousin Jacqueline is a young widow with a child when she marries Bill Heaton, a well-off and respected older businessman. They have not been married long when Ann receives a note from Jean Nobbelin, Bill’s business partner, saying it might be best if Ann comes for a visit.

When Ann arrives, she finds the atmosphere strained and Jacqui unwilling to talk to her. Eventually, she learns that some destructive tricks are being played that make it look as if Jacqui is responsible. The incidents began with ruined shoes and a coat burned by acid while they were on their honeymoon with no one else from the household there. Bill has begun to worry about Jacqui’s sanity.

Most of the large Heaton household on the north bank of Lake Superior is distrustful of Jacqui. Some of the family and friends are even offensive, especially Bill’s sulky son Freddie and Phillips Heaton, who has been leeching off the family for years.

The tricks continue, still pointing toward Jacqui, but then Freddie’s body is found out by the Fingers, an outcrop of rocks that looks like a hand, underneath which an underground river creates a perpetual chuckling sound. Freddie has been shot to death with a gun, and Bill’s gun is missing. Soon, someone tries to kill Bill.

With Sheriff Aakonen being forced to suspect Jacqui, Ann begins trying to investigate the crimes herself. She is soon being helped by Jean Hobbelin.

This is a fairly mystifying situation, and Seeley does a good job of laying false trails. A fair amount of action is salted with an unstressed romance. Although I guessed the murderer, it was mostly by instinct. I didn’t figure out the motive before it was revealed. I found this to be a fairly entertaining mystery, published in 1941, and hope to find more by Seeley. I also found it struck some chords with me because I lived for a year in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, not far from Lake Superior, and some of the aspects of the Minnesota setting on the lake remind me of that life.

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Review 2702: Pontoppidan Review-along! A Fortunate Man

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Yes, here it is, time for the Pontoppidan Review-along. Join me and FictionFan and post your own review or leave comments! FictionFan and I decided to read A Fortunate Man, but others of you may have chosen some other work by Pontoppidan.

A Fortunate Man is considered the most important work by Danish Nobelist Henrik Pontoppidan. It is an ambitious work that attempts to capture all the ideas and events affecting Danish life in the mid to late 19th century, and it is also considered to be quite autobiographical. The tensions between the new industrialism and accompanying modern ideas and traditional views of religion is one of the many themes of this novel.

Per Sidenius grows up in rural Jutland in a household dominated by a strict and self-righteous father—a Lutheran vicar. Per is a high-spirited boy, and his father and entire family treat him as if his boyish antics are paving the way to hell. His mother has been bedridden as long as he can remember. Per does not feel as if he belongs there.

This upbringing results in a young man who can’t wait to leave his home and deny all of his father’s religious beliefs. He wants to be an engineer, so his father finds the money—they are poor—to send him to technical school in Copenhagen. But Per is an arrogant youth determined to make his way, and he finds school a waste of time. Instead, he reads voluminously and starts working on a massive project. The growth of Denmark has been stunted since the country lost territory to Germany in the war of 1864. Per feels that Denmark has become a backwater, especially technologically, with its prominent citizens only protecting the status quo. He conceives of a plan to reopen the many waterways that used to cross the Jutland Peninsula, beginning with a freeport in the East, with the idea of revitalizing the entire area. (His dream of lining this waterway with warehouses and factories doesn’t exactly suit our modern sensibilities, but this was the Industrial Revolution.) But he is an unknown very young man with no backing or credentials. Once he finishes his plans, he finds he’s not getting anywhere. And he needs money just to live.

Per falls in with the Salomons, a family of wealthy Jews. He thinks perhaps his problems will be solved by marriage to one of their daughters and is extremely attracted to the younger one, Nanny. However, as he gets to know them, he realizes he cares for the older sister, Jakobe, a much more intelligent and cultured girl. He is also attracted at first by the family’s relaxed and hospitable approach to life. (Later, though, he starts being embarrassed by their outgoing manners and love of show, so beware, this novel contains lots of anti-Semitism. Even Per, engaged to a Jewish girl, tends to stereotype them, as in general, there is a lot of stereotyping of people of various nationalities and groups like Danish farmers, too.)

At first, Jakobe doesn’t like Per, but he is persistent and wins her over so that eventually her parents reluctantly betroth her to Per. Although Jakobe’s brother Ivan works hard to promote Per’s plan and try to line up backers, Per himself is condescending and rude to the money men (they’re a bunch of money-grubbers, he thinks!) and seems to lose interest in the project. Instead, he goes off traveling, supposedly to study but seeming to do little of that (all the while being supported by Mr. Salomon).

Per feels he is never at home anywhere. His father dies, and this death affects him by having him begin to obsess about and eventually re-embrace Christianity, just not the bleak one his father represented. And frankly, he treats Jakobe shamelessly, just before they are supposed to be married.

Pontoppidan is a Realist writer, and I often think that the Realists spend too much time on the negatives of human behavior. Almost up to here, I was rooting for Per, but when he starts delving into religion and we have to read excerpts from religious philosophies and endless ruminations by Per, I lost most of my interest (religion is a black hole to me), and frankly I felt that his behavior from there to the end was even more self-serving than before. In a quest for self-realization, which sounds laudable, I felt as if he would decide what he wanted to do and then find self-justifications for his actions.

Spoilers ahead! There is a scene where he’s basically unloading his family (he feels it would be “best” for them), and first he tells his religious wife that he doesn’t believe in God (is he lying?) and then lies to her that on a business trip to Copenhagen he met another woman, so it will be “easier” for her to split from him. She’ll understand that. (Of course, she’s a simpleton who doesn’t understand anything, at least not according to him.) When she leaves in anger, he looks up to heaven and asks if that was the right sacrifice. Doesn’t believe in God? His sacrifice? He just wants to be free and has found a way to do it. I ended up hating this guy. And then there’s the letter he gets from her years later thanking him for doing the right thing. Sure. I totally buy that.

I really enjoyed Pontoppidan’s The White Bear and about a half to three quarters of this novel. But at some point, I began to feel as if I had been reading it forever. The rest of the novel made me at first bored and then angry. I suspect from reading Pontoppidan’s Wikipedia page that this novel is at least partly biographical. If it is, he wasn’t a very nice man.

A very slight issue. I’m not sure how New York Review Books prepares its reprints and whether machine reading is involved, but usually their editions are immaculate. In this one, though, I spotted three confusions of homonyms in the first 100 or so pages. Interestingly, two of them were the reverse confusion of “bear” and “bare.” That is, in one instance “bare” should have been used but “bear” was, and in the other, the reverse. (One might have been “bear-faced.” I can’t remember.) I couldn’t tell if this was a machine-reading error not detected by an editor, an editing error, or a translation error.

Check out other reviews of Pontoppidan’s books for this event here. I’ll add them as I become aware of them:

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