Here’s another one for Novellas in November. Let me just say right off the bat that if you have a weak stomach, this is not the book for you. Not only is it gory, but even before it gets gory, it has disturbing details.
Winifred Notty has arrived at the home of the Pounds to work as governess for the children. Almost immediately, she has some thoughts that seem odd, and she says she’s repressing her dark self.
The Pounds are not nice people. Their son Andrew is stupid and spoiled. The older child, Drusilla, is pretty much ignored. Mrs. Pounds treats the servants with disdain and soon is jealous of Winifred because Mr. Pounds likes her. Winifred is certainly making up to him, but her intentions are different than we are led to think.
The narrative style is light and humorous, but despite her efforts to be good this time, Winifred’s behavior gets more and more bizarre. Sometimes she can’t remember what she’s been doing. We know from the beginning that everyone in the house will be dead within three months, so it’s just a matter of seeing how that happens.
Judging by her two books, Feito has a fascination with the dark side of humanity. I think this one was a bit too graphic for me, though.
Here’s my second book for Novellas in November. Bess is 10 when her widowed father, Cy Bellman, decides to go west. He has read an article about the discoveries in Kentucky of the bones of massive animals. What if they are still alive in the vast West? Maybe Lewis and Clark didn’t see them, but what if he took “excursions” from their path? His brain is afire with excitement. He converts most of his money into trinkets for the natives and leaves Bess with her Aunt Julie.
While Bellman is bumbling around, Bess is waiting, sure he will return in two years, as he promised. Out West, Bellman has hired a 17-year-old Native American, a skinny boy named Old Woman From a Distance, as an assistant. They never learn each other’s language. Cy seems unable to drop his obsession.
As time passes and Bess nears her teens, two local pedophiles have their eyes on her.
This little novel leads you on in a subtle way so that you don’t feel you can stop. I found the ending a tad abrupt and unsatisfying, but overall, once you start it, you won’t be able to stop.
The Emigrants is my third book for the 1949 Club. It was originally written in Swedish about the first people from a particular Swedish parish to emigrate to the U. S. The English translation wasn’t published until 1951, but the original book was published in 1949, so it qualifies for the club. The Emigrants is the first book in what was planned as a trilogy but ended up as a quartet.
Karl Oskar Jakobsson is a young man when his father injures himself in the field so that he can’t work. The solution is for Karl to buy his father out of the farm, with his father reserving a room in the house and some pastureland, a cow, and so on. And because Karl is going to be the landowner, he has to get married, so he marries Kristina Johansdotter.
The land, farmed by generations of the family, has already been divided up as much as it can be, a sixteenth—seven acres—of the original plot. And Karl Oskar has taken on a lot of debt. His seven acres have been cleared of the many stones as much as they can be. And then there are several years in a row of bad weather for crops. Karl Oskar feels as if he’ll soon be facing foreclosure, so he decides to sell off his farm and emigrate to the U. S., the first person in his parish to do so, in the 1850’s.
Karl Oskar’s younger brother Robert is a teenager when he goes out to work as a hired man on another farm, the family plot already being divided as far as it legally can be. He is an independent boy who loves reading, and his employer mistreats his workers. Robert ends up running away, breaking his contract, which is illegal. He tells his brother he won’t return, and he has to hide from the law, so eventually his uncle, Danjel Andreasson, takes him to help on his farm. By then, Robert and his friend Arvid have decided that one day they will go to America. They just don’t have money to go now.
Danjel’s father was involved in the Åkian heresy and eventually institutionalized. Danjel has turned from these beliefs, we are to infer, but he has an experience and returns to them. One of the beliefs is that no church hierarchy is necessary for worship. Danjel collects a small group of followers who are the dregs of local society. He gets in trouble with the Lutheran church authorities for having illegal religious meetings in his house.
Once Karl Oskar decides to leave Sweden, he gets together with Robert to tell him, only to find out that Robert has already planned to go, too. Then Danjel and his followers decide to come, only most of his followers have been intimidated by the church and he only has Ulrika, a former prostitute, her daughter Elin, and Danjel’s wife and four children. Danjel is a kind and generous man, so he pays for Arvid’s passage, too, while Karl Oskar pays for his wife, three children, and Robert. At the last moment, a neighbor, Jonas Petter, joins them to get away from his wife.
These are the travelers, and although Karl Oskar is the main character, we periodically see things from the points of view of the others. Although the book is somewhat omniscient in viewpoint, it stays removed from these characters and concentrates on moving forward.
This first novel just gets (almost) everyone to America. It is interesting, and Moberg provides some historical background in the introduction. There is definitely a class divide here. The church authorities treat the farmers paternalistically, and the farmers are often referred to as peasants. On the ship the captain and sailors are disdainful. The farmers are definitely superstitious and gullible—even semi-educated Robert believes some ridiculous things about America that he reads in a book. Danjel is actually quite crazy and hallucinates angels onboard the ship. He tells his followers things like that they will be able to understand English immediately upon arrival in America, so they don’t need to try to learn onboard. He believes this because of some passage in the Bible.
Apparently, these few first immigrations (I’m not sure if the people are inventions or not) started a flood of immigration to America from this parish in Sweden, Ljuder.
When The Talnikov Family was published in 1848, it stirred up quite the kerfuffle with its tale of an abusive family. In fact, it was suppressed. This novel is largely modeled on Panaeva’s own upbringing.
Natasha is part of a large family whose parents don’t pay attention to their many children except to abuse them verbally and physically. Natasha especially seems to be a target of her mother. The household also includes aunts—their father’s sisters—some of whom spy on each other and the children. When one of the boys goes to work for his uncle, his uncle seems to feel it’s his duty to beat him. And their mother hires a governess based on how strict she is.
The family seems to be upper class, but the girls are always cutting down clothing from the adult women or are padding out shoes that are adult sizes. They are poorly fed, because the governess likes to withhold food as punishment.
There isn’t much of a plot to this novel, just stories of superstition and mistreatment throughout the family. The novel doesn’t really have much of an arc, either, just recounts one appalling event after another, but it apparently began debates about such topics as gender, sexuality, and revolution.
Panaeva became a major force in the Russian literary world, running a literary journal that published works of the likes of Dostoevsky, Turgenev, and Tolstoy.
Although Land is mostly about one Irish family, it is also deeply involved with a piece of land, a peninsula that looks like part of the Dingle Peninsula. (Actually, it looks like the entire Dingle Peninsula, but the area described is too small.) Along with some history, O’Farrell bundles in some folklore.
It’s maybe ten or fifteen years after the last Irish famine. Densely populated areas are now barren, with most of the people dead or emigrated. Liam is 10 years old and feels he is too young to be helping his father Tomás with his surveying. His father is mostly a silent man, so Liam doesn’t know that as a boy, he rescued himself from the workhouse by putting himself forward for the same sort of job.
Liam is cold and tired. They are surveying a peninsula, and when Tomás sends him into a copse, he feels uncomfortable, even afraid, so he comes out and refuses to go back in. Tomás goes in himself and doesn’t emerge. When Liam goes in after him, he finds him altered, excited, talkative, delirious, draped with vegetation. He takes his father to the home of a widow where they’ve been staying, and his father continues to rave excitedly. The next thing Liam knows, Father Joseph is exorcizing his father, a brutal ceremony. It is at this point that the story returns to the far past and the history of the copse and of Tomás.
Tomás is back to being silent by the time the two return to their family in Dublin. He is not really functional, though, but stays in bed. His wife Phina is pregnant, and they have two girls, Enda and Rose. Phina is almost at her wit’s end when Tomás seems to rouse himself. The next thing she knows, he has spent all their money to lease a place near the copse on the peninsula.
There is a lot more to this family’s story, which is often tragic. It is certainly engrossing, and you come to care about most of the family members.
If I may hint at a spoiler, I was certainly shocked and had a hard time buying the departures of both Liam and Enda after a tragic event. It seemed so selfish. I actually had a hard time buying Liam’s determination to be a priest, especially after the treatment of his father.
However, this is a compelling story. Not only is O’Farrell a skillful writer, but she really knows how to draw us in.
I accidentally started reading the Darkland Tales in order. These are books by prominent Scottish authors about various episodes in Scottish history. This time, I read #6, so I’ve skipped a few, but I also read this for my Walter Scott prize project and it fits for RIPXXI!
Benbecula is about an 1857 series of murders on Benbecula, a small Scottish island. It is narrated by Malcolm McPhee, the oldest brother of the murderer.
The McPhee family gets by earning a small amount harvesting seaweed. The mother spends all day tending the fire while the father is weak and can only do easy work but prefers life to be clash-free. The adult children are all unmarried. Marion is a hard worker but grim. John seems to be mentally challenged. Angus can manipulate people but can’t be controlled and is left to do what he wants. Malcolm is a bit of a bully.
Angus goes off to work for a while for a farmer, but after he returns, he’s subject to fits of uncontrollable rage and has to be restrained. After he disturbs everyone by wildly ringing the church bells, authorities recommend he be committed, but the McPhees can’t afford the fees. When a doctor examines him for involuntary committal, he seems perfectly rational.
We read this with dread, because we get plenty of warning about what’s coming, as Malcolm tells the story from some years later, living alone in the family house drinking and wallowing in his own filth. There are more mysteries ahead, though.
This novel is atmospheric despite being sparely written. It definitely left me with questions. There is an Afterword that accounts some of the facts of the case.
Before I start my review, I want to mention a strange coincidence. The main character in this book is Pastor Laestadius, important to a historical religious revival in far northern Sweden and Finland, Sami territory. I thought the name sounded familiar, but it wasn’t his name I googled but “Old Apostolic Lutheran Church.” What I read was, “The Old Apostolic Lutheran Church of America is a Firstborn Laestadian-Evangelical Church in America.” Now, the reason I googled this topic is because when we moved to Southwestern Washington, we accidentally moved into one of two areas of the country that has lots of Old Apostolic Lutherans. In a mainly rural county that has mostly small churches, they have four large ones. Some coincidence, huh?
Enough of that.
Jussi is the narrator for most of the novel. He is a Sami young man whom Pastor Laestadius rescued from poverty and a wandering life as a boy and taught to read and write. He is devoted to the Pastor, but he is very shy and seldom speaks. He is in love with a girl named Maria but never speaks to her.
In this area of far northern Sweden, there is a strong social division in 1852. The better off speak Swedish while the common people speak Finnish. The Pastor is a leader in a return to a stricter religion, and he has been receiving complaints from the more prosperous parishioners because the poor ones tend to fall into exaltation during his sermons, which the more prosperous think is unseemly.
Jussi himself believes that by teaching him to read and write, the Pastor brought him into existence, but he has had a brutal childhood and struggles sometimes with the Pastor’s teachings.
Then a girl is found dead, mutilated. The Pastor is a botanist and is very observant. Although Sheriff Brahe insists the girl was mauled by a bear, the Pastor observes signs that she was raped and murdered and that the killer used a knife to fake bear scratches. But the Sheriff, a brute and a bully, doesn’t listen.
When a bear is found and killed, everyone relaxes, but the Pastor and Jussi are afraid there will be another death. And there is an attack. At a dance, Jussi gets up the nerve to ask Maria to dance, and she does. The next day, the village awakens to find that another girl, Jolina, was attacked. She is not dead, but she will not say what happened. Later, she is found dead, and the Sheriff insists she killed herself. The Pastor begins to suspect the Sheriff.
The Pastor applies fairly modern techniques of detection that no one else understands. For example, he compares the shavings from a pencil and knows about fingerprints. But who can he even take his evidence to?
This is a thoroughly absorbing story. Although the murder story is fictional, it also tells the story of a rebellion that is not fictional. In his Afterword, Niemi explains that he grew up near the site of Laestadius’s church and has always been fascinated by him.
Kevin Barry is certainly an evocative writer, but after reading my second book by him, I’m still not sure I like him. The Heart in Winter combines romance with brutality and some readers deserve a warning about foul language.
In 1891 Butte, Montana, the mines are booming, and the town is full of drunks and whores. Tom Rourke, a boyish Irish immigrant, spends his days helping a photographer or writing letters for illiterate miners and his nights drinking and doping. One day, mine captain Long Anthony Harrington comes in for a wedding photo of himself and his brand new wife, Polly. Their romance has been an exchange of letters, and Tom can tell that the wife dislikes her new husband. Tom is smitten.
Three weeks later, they put into action Tom’s poor excuse for a plan. While Polly’s husband is at work on the night shift, Tom will burn down the rooming house where he lives so that in the confusion he can steal the landlady’s money, and then they will steal a horse and escape to San Francisco. It’s turned toward winter, the perfect time to be traveling in the mountains. (I’m being ironic here.)
Of course, their plan fools no one, and the outraged Harrington hires three Cornishmen to track down the fugitives with the instructions to bring back Polly and do whatever they want to Tom. For their part, after a first burst of speed, Tom and Polly are honeymooning in someone’s cabin.
Of course, there’s a feeling of doom throughout the novel, and things don’t go very well for the couple. The novel is adventurous, with quirky characters, and gritty.
Another caveat, though. Barry seems to know nothing about what it would be like to travel in these mountains in winter. His inexperienced travelers would probably be dead in days.
Julia Seales clearly had a good time writing this novel, which is absolutely silly and apparently a spoof of 19th century novels. It’s too bad, then, that she bothered so little to get the details right. It’s the second novel I’ve read recently that doesn’t bother with that, so why, I ask, place it in a historical context? Is this kind of laziness a trend?
Beatrice Steele has a secret. She is fascinated by crime and follows the exploits of Sir Huxley and his assistant, Inspector Vivek Drake, by stealing her father’s newspaper. She must hide this activity, because she lives in Swampshire, which has stern rules for the behavior of females.
The Steele family is preparing for a ball that evening at Stabmort Park, hereditary home of the Ashworths. A guest of honor is Edmund Croaksworth, a wealthy gentleman who was friends with Beatrice’s best friend Daniel Ashworth before the Croaksworths broke off the connection. Edmund’s father has died, and he is ready to resume the connection.
The Steele family is not only broke, but if they don’t produce a male heir before Mr. Steele dies, their property will go to their hated cousin, Martin Grub. So, Mrs. Steele’s hopes rest with her beautiful second daughter Louisa, who she thinks will fascinate Edmund Croaksworth into an immediate proposal. Beatrice herself assumes she will marry Daniel, but neither of them seems to be in a hurry.
I guess you can tell from the names that Seale’s sense of humor is not exactly subtle. She finally gets us to the ball while managing to get just about every detail of a 19th century ball wrong, including when soup would be available and how many guests a ball generally entails (hint—more than 16). There, Beatrice is surprised to recognize among the guests Inspector Vivek Drake—a person whom I had already guessed is to Sir Huxley as Laura Holt was to Remington Steele (that is, if you’re not old enough to remember, the real solver of the crimes), but Beatrice doesn’t believe that.
During the dance, Beatrice finds out Grub’s dastardly plan to have her father declared incompetent so that he can take the estate earlier, and since Mr. Steele is an idiot who is constantly playing practical jokes on people, this is a possibility.
Then Edmund Croaksworth is murdered, poisoned apparently during a card game that no one will admit playing. Inspector Drake is asked to solve the murder because the entire party is stranded in the house by a terrible storm. Beatrice is deputized to help him stay within the bounds of propriety.
I definitely didn’t share the author’s sense of humor here, although I might have had more patience with the novel if she could have been a little up on her subject. To successfully make fun of Victorian customs and manners, I think you have to know what they are first.
The mystery itself was all over the place, designed to get as many ridiculous details in as possible. Still, I at least finished the book.
I’ve already reviewed Venetia for this blog, but my purchase of a new Folio Society copy seemed like a good excuse to reread it.
Venetia Lanyon has lived an isolated life, mostly with only her brother Aubrey for company. Her late father having refused her a London season when her aunt offered one, she has only attended a few local dances. However, she has two suitors—Edward Yardley, a worthy neighbor, and Oswald Denny, a quite young man who emulates Lord Byron in his careless dress and sulky manner. Venetia is interested in neither of them and plans to make a home for Aubrey, a studious teen with a bad hip, after her older brother Conway returns from the wars to take up his position as head of household.
But two incidents complicate this plan. One is her encounter with Lord Damerel, a neighbor she and her brothers called the Wicked Baron when they were children because of his unnamed crimes that made his family disown him when he was young.
Although Demerel, mistaking her for a village girl, offers her an insult, he is taken aback by her reaction, and she soon finds him to be a companion who shares her sense of humor. When he rescues Aubrey from a bad fall, the three of them begin a comfortable friendship.
Then strangers arrive. Without so much as a letter of warning, Conway has married a shy, biddable girl and sent her before him with her extremely unpleasant mother to establish his household.
Now, we’re set up for Heyer’s usual romance with lots of striking characters, a good deal of lively, funny dialogue, and an engaging, sparkling heroine with an unconventional mind.
