Day 657: The Fish Can Sing

Cover for The Fish Can SingÁlfgrímur is an orphan boy who has always known life in a simple turf cottage with his foster parents, Björn of Brekkukot, whom he calls Grandfather, and Grandmother. His grandfather lives a life of integrity, with no interest in ambition. Words are so important in their household, Álfgrímur explains, that they are only spoken to hide things.

Álfgrímur grows up with his only ambition to live in his grandparents’ cottage and fish for lumpfish with his grandfather. But his grandmother has other ideas, so when he is old enough, he goes reluctantly off to school.

Most of this novel is an account of everyday life at Brekkukot, peopled by the peculiar residents of the grandparents’ loft, some permanently there and others passing through. These people are all good but eccentric. For example, there is the Superintendent, whom Álfgrímur as a boy thinks is the superintendent of the entire city of Reykjavic but turns out to be in charge of the public toilets at the harbor.

Hanging on the wall of their neighbor Kristín’s cottage is the picture of a young man. When Álfgrímur asks about him, his grandparents answer “He was a nice little boy, that Georg,” Kristín’s son. But Georg is now Garðar Holm, a famous Icelandic opera singer. Garðar Holm seldom comes home. When he does and his patron schedules a concert, he never appears, but he does take an interest in Álfgrímur. Álfgrímur can sing and he wants to learn to sing “one true note.”

In this novel, Laxness is interested in exploring the tension between fame and obscurity, but he is also interested in the importance of morality and honest dealing. Serious as its intent is and primitive as are the characters’ surroundings, this is not at all a grim novel. It is told with a wry and ironic sense of humor and is full of colorful characters. With Laxness, you can be sure that there is plenty going on beneath the surface of things.

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Day 656: The Mysteries of Udolpho

Cover for The Mysteries of UdolphoI valiantly strove to finish The Mysteries of Udolpho, but with about 80% of it read (frustratingly hard to tell with a collection on Kindle), I just couldn’t take it anymore. Although the book is a classic gothic novel, it is extremely long and slow moving, and my mild curiosity about the secrets of the castle could not overcome my feeling that the novel was never-ending.

Radcliffe was known for writing novels that were more realistic than those that had come before in the gothic genre. That is, the events, however unlikely, might actually happen. Heroines are kidnapped, not squashed to death by a giant foot.

Emily St. Aubert’s troubles begin with her father’s death, but not before the two of them take a leisurely several-hundred-page trip through Provence. There she and her father meet the handsome Valancourt, alas only a younger son.

After her father dies, Emily finds she is left destitute except for her estate and goes to live with her fashionable and shallow aunt Madame Cheron. Madame Cheron eventually marries an Italian lout, Count Montoni. Once Emily and her aunt are in his power, he expends all his energy first in trying to force Emily to marry one of his dupes and then in trying to get both women to hand over all their property in France.

About halfway through the nearly 800-page book, Montoni takes them to his castle, Udolpho, in the Italian alps. Here I was expecting things to heat up, and they do a little, with a disappearing previous owner, secret passageways, unnamed but horrible sights, and odd lights on the battlements. On the other hand, Emily spends most of her time looking at the scenery—described in excruciating detail and admired while she is in peril of her life—and painting watercolors. Oh, also writing poems at the drop of a hat that we get to read.

To modern audiences, Emily seems a bit insipid, but her role is to demonstrate the feminine virtues under duress. So, instead of investigating where the secret passage from her bedroom goes or looking at the contents of the heavy chest or trying to escape, she faints and runs away. She does, however, do what she thinks is right most of the time.

So far, although the most famous, The Mysteries of Udolpho is not my favorite of the “horrid mysteries” mentioned in Northanger Abbey that I reported I was reading in a collection. (This novel wasn’t mentioned but is included in the Horrid Novels collection for completeness.)

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Day 655: The Night Inspector

Cover for The Night InspectorWilliam Bartholomew is a survivor of the American Civil War, but in many ways he is also a casualty. His face was destroyed, so he wears a mask, but he also bears less discernible scars from his work as a sniper for the Union army.

Bartholomew is working as a commodities trader when he meets the writer Herman Melville. He has read and admired Moby Dick, but the novel was mostly met with mockery by the critics and ignored by the public. Unable to take care of his family with his earnings as a writer, Melville takes a job as a deputy customs inspector.

Bartholomew has a relationship with a Creole prostitute that he considers deeper than the usual one of client. She asks for his help in a venture that seems laudable but is illegal. To pull it off, he must involve Melville.

At first, I wasn’t sure where this novel was going. It is dark and sometimes disturbing, and I even thought it might become a mystery. It does not, but it fully captures the consciousness of a man who is tough but has had to fight to keep from being shattered by circumstances, his own actions, and his conscience.

It is also a vehicle for depicting Melville. There, I was not so sure it was going to be successful in making Melville interesting until the denouement of the novel.

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Day 654: Longbourn

Cover for LongbournBest Book of the Week!
There has been a plethora of Pride and Prejudice reinterpretations and sequels in the past few years, and I haven’t found the ones I’ve read to be very interesting. Longbourn, however, looks at the novel from a completely different angle, from the point of view of the servants in the Bennet household.

Sarah has been a housemaid for the Bennets since she was a child. Although she is grateful for the kindness shown to her by the housekeeper, Mrs. Hill, she chafes against the limits of her existence and the sheer hard work. She has begun to wish for more.

Mr. Bennet unexpectedly hires a servant named James Smith. There is some mystery about him, for Sarah overhears Mrs. Hill having a heated discussion with Mr. Bennet about him. At first excited to have a new member in the household, Sarah is disappointed by his unkempt appearance and the fact that he never looks at her. Besides, she soon meets the handsome and exotic Ptolemy Bingham, Mr. Bingham’s mulatto coachman.

Aside from presenting fully realized characters and an interesting story, Longbourn imagines a completely different view of the Bennet household and the action of the original novel, which here is only peripheral. We find unexpected sympathy for Mrs. Bennet through Mrs. Hill’s knowledge of her history. Mr. Bennet turns out to have a secret. Lizzie and Jane are still the most likable Bennet girls, but they think nothing of sending Sarah to walk to Meryton in the pouring rain to buy roses for the girls’ dancing shoes. The viewpoint from the kitchen is certain to be an unexpected one.

This novel is fascinating, providing its own rich story while carefully observing the events of Austen’s novel in the background. I loved this truly original re-imagining.

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Day 653: Viper Wine

Cover for Viper WineTo say that Viper Wine is an unusual novel is to make an understatement. The novel is based on events in the lives of historical characters, but its narrative style is wildly creative, including many anachronisms and quotes from both modern and historical sources, even computer code. It seems occasionally to blur the time between centuries.

In 17th century England, Venetia Digby was once the renowned beauty Venetia Stanley, but she is getting older. She is not exactly vain so much as humiliated by her loss of distinction and the pitying glances she thinks she detects. Her husband Sir Kenelm loves her as much as ever and thinks she looks fine, but she believes he doesn’t actually see her.

Kenelm is a sort of Renaissance man, a scholar, soldier, and adventurer. It is true that he spends a lot of time on his experiments and books. He has some other occupations he must be more careful of. He is an alchemist, and even though the Queen, Henrietta Maria, is Catholic, the Digbys’ Catholic religion must be observed with discretion.

Venetia has begged Kenelm to make her a preparation to restore her youth, but Kenelm doesn’t think she needs one and refuses without explaining to her how harmful such a preparation could be. Venetia finally sneaks off to try an apothecary’s concoction named Viper Wine that is made from snakes, and apparently some kind of opiate. Whether it really improves her looks or she just thinks it does is not clear, but soon, many of the ladies at court are sneaking off to find the same apothecary. Later she starts using something similar to Botox.

http://www.netgalley.comAs Venetia exuberantly pursues a renewed career at court and Kenelm continues his studies and adventures, Eyre reminds us by little digs and a sort of melding of time periods that people haven’t changed in their extreme remedies for aging. This novel is written with a zippy postmodern irony that adds energy and liveliness to the story of how the famous beauty’s autopsy after her death showed she had “very little brain” (not a spoiler, as her death is mentioned in the book blurb).

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Day 652: Amy and Isabelle

Cover for Amy and IsabelleIn 60’s small-town New England, Isabelle Goodrow and her 16-year-old daughter Amy are having a tough summer. They are together all the time because Amy has a job in the mill office where Isabelle has worked for years, but they are presently resentful of each other and barely speak.

Although Amy has been harboring typical teenage feelings toward her mother, their problems go back a lot farther. Some of them have roots in how Isabelle has represented herself in town since she moved there. She has some social ambitions and thinks she is more refined than the other women who work in the office. Quietly in love with her married boss for years, she is concerned about how she and her daughter are perceived. She also has secrets.

But their immediate problems begin earlier that school year, when insecure Amy thinks she is in love.

This is my third Strout novel, and I like how observant she is of life in these small, conservative New England towns. She presents us with situations that are dramatic but common and has us examine the lives of ordinary people. Amy and Isabelle are hard on each other, as mothers and daughters can be, but they are also able to learn from their mistakes, even if the lessons are painful.

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Day 651: Literary Wives! The Last Wife of Henry VIII

Cover for The Last Wife of Henry VIIIAgain, we have a group book review with Literary Wives, where a group of bloggers get together and review the same book about wives on the same day. If you have read this month’s book and would like to participate, leave comments on any of our blogs. Be sure to read the reviews and comments of the other wives!

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In considering The Last Wife of Henry VIII, I come smack up against the issue I’ve mentioned in the reviews of several historical novels based on the lives of actual people. That is, how an author can make the subject interesting while staying faithful to the events of the person’s life and to the person’s character.

In this novel, Erickson has a fairly clean slate to work with, because Catherine Parr’s life has not been covered as exhaustively as that of other Tudors. Yet it is one thing in historical fiction to invent the details of ordinary life and another to present readers with questionable events. The most obvious of these is to have Parr’s love affair with Thomas Seymour begin while she was still married to John Neville, when to all indications it began after Neville’s death, when she was left a relatively wealthy widow. And, might I add, the unlikelihood that they continued their physical relationship (if they had one) while she was married to Henry VIII. Not in that court and atmosphere, with that history, I’m guessing.

But this is aside from the point that with all this inventing, Erickson still fails to make Catherine Parr an interesting character or her story compelling—despite the fact that it probably was compelling. The actual Catherine was much more capable and influential than Erickson’s character, in fact.

Literary Wives logoWhat does this book say about wives or the experience of being a wife?

First, for the Tudors wives were bargaining chips. The novel depicts Catherine as taking control of her own fate in some of her marriages, but only within limits. That is, in both instances if she hadn’t had another suitor, she would have had to marry the person chosen for her. Within the marriages, the limits to her spheres of action are chosen by her husband unless, as in her marriage to Seymour, she has her own money, which gives her leverage. In three of her marriages, her husband’s activities or relations with her husband’s relatives make her position insecure, so much so in her first marriage that she is left a poor and unprotected widow, at least according to Erickson. I would submit that in actuality, what left her insecure after the death of Henry VIII was more likely her marriage to Thomas Seymour than anything else.

In what way does this woman define “wife”—or in what way is she defined by wife?

Catherine usually tries to do her duty by her husband, whether she loves him or not. The exception is her affair with Thomas Seymour while she was married to John Neville (which I don’t believe actually happened). In the terms of the novel, this is probably supposed to make it more romantic (it doesn’t), but it makes her character less consistent. I would say that for Parr, a wife is dutiful, affectionate, and tries to do the right thing. Her marriage to Henry VIII also shows her as compassionate, capable, and politically astute. Her marriage to Thomas Seymour, on the other hand, shows her as fatuous and besotted, unfortunately the reputation that has survived her. If I can sneak in a comment about stepmothers here, I believe her actual relationship with Henry’s children was much warmer than depicted in the novel.

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