January is finally over – its always the longest month of the year. I always feel I should have read at least seventeen books in January, what with it going on forever like it does – but of course I never read any more than I usually do. I have read nine books in January, the last one I only finished quite late last night. It’s been a pretty good month for books.
I began the month and the New Year (how long ago does that feel?) reading Mrs Tim of the Regiment by D E Stevenson (1932) on my kindle. A gentle, escapist kind of read, and a book which started life as two. Mrs Tim herself – Hester is our narrator who regales us with the ups and downs of motherhood, domestic life and being married in part to the regiment in which her husband is a captain. The family move to Scotland and Hester has lots to put up with. A new house, new neighbours and later when on a visit to the highlands she is embroiled in romantic interferings at the behest of a new friend.
Milkman by Anna Burns (2018) was my book group read for January. I hadn’t expected to love this book quite as much as I did. Brilliantly written, it is a blistering evocation of the troubles in Northern Ireland, the voice is so strong, and Burns recreates a community under immense pressure perfectly.
Another Woman’s House by M G Eberhart (1947) was a chance find in a charity shop last year. Set in America in a beautiful house overlooking the sound, the action takes place over a period of about twenty-four hours. Myra has fallen in love with her guardian’s nephew, with whom they have been staying for some time. Richard’s wife Alice was convicted of the murder of a neighbour two years earlier. Now Alice is suddenly free – and she wants her life back.
The Casino by Margaret Bonham (1948) was my first of two collections of short stories this month. A beautiful collection of stories, written in the 1940s, many featuring parents and children. Bonham set most of these stories in Devon which I know quite well – and constantly feel pulled back to – they were a real pleasure to read, especially as I had spent a week in Sidmouth just a few weeks earlier.
Another big pleasure was my re-read of Some Tame Gazelle by Barbara Pym (1950) with a Barbara Pym Facebook group. It was my third reading of it – and this time I thought a lot about poor Belinda and how hard she is on herself. If you haven’t ever read Pym, then her first novel is a great place to start, it is absolutely classic Pym from start to finish and a complete joy to read.
Alice by Elizabeth Eliot (1949) – thanks to Dean Street Press for the review copy – was another fabulous surprise. A writer in the tradition of Barbara Comyns and Rachel Ferguson, I am looking forward to reading more by this author soon. Alice is the best friend of narrator Margaret – and the book takes us from the girls’ last year at school in the 1920s through to just before the Second World War.
My first novel in translation of 2019 was Like a Sword Wound by Ahmet Altan (1997) the first book in what promises to be a hugely compelling Ottoman quartet. A host of characters and fascinating historical drama from Europa Editions, I just hope the rest of the series gets translated into English too.
Phoenix Fled by Attia Hosain (1953) my second collection of short stories this month, I found rather sad. Beautifully written though, and very evocative of a time and place; India around the time of partition. There are many kinds of families here and traditions come up against a changing western influenced world.
My final read of the month was Craven House by Patrick Hamilton (1926) an author I have heard such good things about – particularly from Jacqui from Jacquiwine’s Journal, who raved about this book last year. Set in a boarding house from just before the first world war – to the mid-1920s, it is a wonderful collection of character studies. I often love books with great settings, characters and little plot – and this is one of those. A review in the next few days.
I have no particular plans for February – my book group read is one I really am unsure about – and as things stand, I may not be able to go that night, so I might just decide not to read it. My thoughts have been turning more and more toward short stories, works in translation and Barbara Comyns – so some of those may be popping up soon. I also have been thinking of re-reading some of my Elizabeth Taylor novels. Though, there is one collection of Taylor short stories I still haven’t read (I have been saving them for years – no idea for what) perhaps I should just dig those out. The Librarything Virago group continue reading the 1940s – and our theme in February is relationships. I’m sure I have something that will fit.
Did you read anything brilliant in January? – please let me know.
I started the year on a real high reading wise, beginning my year and my #Woolfalong project reading To the Lighthouse (1927). It was a wonderful reading experience, so different from my first experience of it twenty five years ago. Maurice (1971) by E M Forster – another member of the Bloomsbury set I suppose, was the only novel by E M Forster I had never read (not yet read his short stories either). Beautifully written, it paints an extremely honest picture of what life might be for a young man attracted to his own sex in the early twentieth century – no wonder really that Forster didn’t live to see it published. The Land of Green Ginger (1927) by Winifred Holtby I had been saving for a few years – it turned out to be good – although certainly not her best. I was a tad disappointed – only because I had saved it so long, however a lesser Holtby is still pretty good – and definitely still worth reading. I was particularly cheered to learn that The Land of Green Ginger is an actual street – how I would love little address card with that address on! Next I read a Netgalley review copy on my trusty kindle – Exposure (2016) by Helen Dunmore. I always like Helen Dunmore’s writing, and this one was among the best of those that I have read. Her sense of place is always so good, and the atmosphere and tension in this latest novel is pretty much perfect. Actually reading Exposure made me want to read those Dunmore I’ve yet to get around to. Next I found myself returning to Virginia Woolf, re-reading Mrs Dalloway (1925) – which I had originally not intended to do until February. Mrs Dalloway is a fascinating, complex novel – I enjoyed it far more this time too. I think (I hope) I may have finally found my Virginia Woolf mojo. I will probably wait until March to read more Woolf, although I have (or will have) my first round up post for the end of the first phase to post at the end of this month.
