A few quick reviews from my less interesting reading encounters:
Graustark by George Barr McCutcheon (1901) – I loved Brewster’s Millions (despite its many quirks and frankly bizarre plot twists) so was determined to read more by McCutcheon. When I learned he’d written a series of Ruritanian novels, starting with Graustark, it was clear where I would start. I love a good Ruritanian romance. However, it turns out this is not good. It starts well enough, yes, with our young hero meeting a beautiful, mysterious girl on the train as they travel across America. By the time they reach Washington, DC, he is in love but she must depart for home, a small European principality he has never heard of. Naturally, it isn’t too long before he finds his way there and ridiculous adventures involving hidden identities, dastardly aristocrats, and national debt ensue. The saving grace was our hero’s stalwart friend and travel companion, who provided a bit of levity and a merciful dose of common sense when everyone else lost theirs. A ridiculous book – yet I’m still strangely tempted to try the next book in the series…
A Lost Lady by Willa Cather (1923) – this novella by Cather was a lovely reminder of just what a beautiful writer she was. As usual, her characters are a bit flat (particularly the lady at the center of the tale) but Cather’s passion for her setting – a small Western town of fading importance – and the simple elegance of her writing made this a pleasure to read. That said, the memory of it is already fading from my mind, unlike her best works which remain vivid even years later.
A Circle of Quiet by Madeleine L’Engle (1972) – This is the first volume of L’Engle’s Crosswick Journals and, as usual, I approached them all out of order. I read the last one first (Two-Part Invention – still one of my favourite bookish discoveries), then the third (The Summer of the Great-Grandmother), and now jumped back to the start. The problem with that is that L’Engle rose to such heights with her later books that this first one can’t compare. Those later books are deeply personal and she shares her memories and emotions in a way she probably hadn’t imagine when she wrote this first book. This is an interesting look at her life and some of her thoughts, particularly around the communities she belongs to, but it lacks a compelling focus and I missed the sense of L’Engle herself that was so strong in the other books. I still have An Irrational Season, the second book, left to read and will be interested to see how it compares to the others.
The Doctor’s Sweetheart and Other Stories by L.M. Montgomery (1979) – what a throw back to my childhood. After I discovered Anne of Green Gables, I spent the next few years obsessively reading anything by or about Montgomery, including all the collections of her short stories. This was one of many volumes that was put together drawing on pieces she’d had published in magazines (both before and after Anne, her breakthrough novel, was published), most of which had some sort of linking theme – here it is lovers who are parted. I remembered them as repetitive and melodramatic, and was a bit embarrassed that anyone had wanted to draw attention to them by republishing them. Twenty-two years later, that is still how I feel about them. Well done ten-year old Claire for being such an astute literary judge. From a scholarship point of view, this collection does have some interest – you can see Montgomery playing around with plots she would eventually use in her novels – but on their own they are best forgotten.
Salt-Water Moon by David French (1984) – part of a cycle of plays about the Mercers, a Newfoundland family, this focuses on the parents’ story, looking back to their youth. It is just one-act, set on a moonlit summer night in 1926 when Jacob Mercer reappears in his small Newfoundland hometown a year after having left for Toronto. He’s come to see Mary, his girl, and learn why she’s become engaged to the town schoolteacher. Jacob is a chatty fellow and the two bicker back and forth all evening in enjoyable interplay. By the end, of course, they have decided to face the future together, even though for Mary it might not be as practical as the future she had talked herself into with the hapless schoolteacher. This wasn’t particularly special on its own but I’m intrigued enough to want to read more about the Mercers in French’s other plays.
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There are not a lot of books I find worth staying up for on a weeknight. Sleep is a wonderful thing and I take it seriously. But last night I foolishly started reading just before (what should have been) my bedtime and ending up reading until almost midnight, caught up in the joyfully comic fantasy of Brewster’s Millions by George Barr McCutcheon.
The Captive Reader 