Muriel Spark - Loitering With Intent

There's a thin line between reality and fiction; they oft' reflect each other very closely, so much so that the line is indiscernible. But - what happens when reality starts imitating fiction? That's the basic premise of Spark's 1981 novel, starring Fleur Talbot: an aspiring writer in London in the 1950s. She's writing her first novel, Warrender Chase, but she needs a job to get by while she finishes it. And so, she takes up the position of the secretary to Sir Quentin Oliver, and his brainchild: The Autobiographical Association.

The Autobiographical Association comprises of a bunch of people who write their memoirs, which are to be published in the future, when anyone and everyone mentioned in the autobiographies are dead. In a manner of speaking, it's almost like a time capsule.

A myriad of entertaining characters are created by Spark, to fill in the roles of the members of the Association - each more warped than the other. Fleur, the narrator, ends up "enriching" their otherwise mundane autobiographies. However, right before her eyes, the scenes from the office start resembling her novel - which she had started before taking the job! What's is Sir Quentin's end goal? And to what lengths is he ready to go to in order to achieve his end goal?

In Fleur, we have a witty likeable narrator, who says it as she sees it.

I always desired books; nearly all of my bills were for books. I possessed one very rare book which I traded for part of my bill with another bookshop, for I wasn’t a bibliophile of any kind; rare books didn’t interest me for their rarity but their content. I borrowed frequently from the public library, but often I would go into a bookshop and in my longing to possess, let us say, the Collected Poems of Arthur Clough and a new Collected Chaucer, I would get into conversation with the bookseller and run up another bill.

She befriends Sir Quentin's mother, Lady Edwina, who is an eccentric character, with a mischievous side. And then there's the despicable Beryl Tims - the apparent love interest of Sir Quentin - who works with him, and finally, Sir Quentin himself - a character who's extremely unlikeable and becomes a shade more repulsive with each turn of the page. It's these characters that carry this work of metafiction, and makes it a fascinating read.

I think I didn't get enough out of the book, by virtue of not knowing much about a couple of authors (Benvenuto Cellini and John Henry Newman) whose works Fleur (and a couple of other characters) refers to at regular intervals (quoting passages as well), setting them as model autobiographies.

I also thought Warrender Chase sounded like a pretty dreadful book (not one I'd like to read, anyway). Maybe in a parallel universe, where novels are actually a byproduct of reality, this book exists, and the "lucid readers" are singing a different tune. If not that, maybe it has a "cult" following. What do I know?

Sarah Waters - Affinity

In a world where twenty-seven year old women are called "spinsters" and they aren't allowed to study further, despite being inclined towards academia, where they still need their mother's permission to carry out certain activities, and where they're bound by society's rules and regulations, this story is about a woman desperately trying to find her place and her footing while her siblings are getting married, having babies and moving ahead. It's also a story about another woman, a spiritualist, who has been imprisoned due to her involvement in an affair which led to the unfortunate demise of one of her clients. She blames it on the spirits who she interacts with, but there isn't any evidence in her favour.

Set in London in the 1870s, this book is about two women: Selina, the prisoner (and spiritualist) and Margaret, the Lady Visitor at the prison who is trying to overcome an "illness."

Early on in the book, Margaret's visit to Millibank Prison are more about meeting Selina (who she's never met before), than the other prisoners. Selina, who communicates with various spirits from the prison cell as well, interacts with Margaret's father who passed away two years previously. As they form a special spiritual bond - a result of loneliness and despondence - they start sharing the details of their past (and their present), which brings them closer together, leading Margaret to believe that Selina is her "affinity."

One sympathises with Margaret, wonders whether Selina is really a spiritualist or not (well, I did - I don't really have believe in spirits being able to interact with humans via various media), and dreads the prison - which essentially could be a character in itself. Dark and gloomy, with endless passages, odours, wards, and extremely strict (almost inhumane) matrons who patrol the wards and punish the prisoners for their crimes.

As I've come to expect with Sarah Waters' novels, there's a breathtaking plot twist, which just leaves the reader gripped to the book, long after they've turned the last page. The book is written in interleaving chapters of the present and the past: the present is Margaret's voice, writing in her diary, and the past is Selina's, presumably writing in her diary as well. Thus, the whole book is presented to us from the eyes of the two protagonists, and one does start seeing things from their points of view. It's easy to relate to them, sympathise with their predicaments, and hope for a "happily ever after" that's only ever seen in fairy tales.

While this book is no Fingersmith (I doubt Waters will be able to re-do that kind of magic), it is still immense in terms of character development and scene setting. It's probably my second favourite book by Waters (although I still have Tipping The Velvet to go). I've read/heard many comments saying Waters is at her best while writing about the Victorian period, and as things stand, I'm bound to agree.

Have you read Affinity? Where do you think it stands amidst Sarah Waters' other novels?

Truman Capote - Breakfast At Tiffany's

"Charming" - That's the first word that came to mind when I turned over the last page of this novella. I haven't seen the Audrey Hepburn movie, so I didn't really know much about the plot (maybe I really do live in my own little cocoon) prior to reading the classic. There's Holly Golightly, who gets the star billing, as the writer recounts memories of his glamourous neighbour many years later. Holly Golightly is a young woman, drifting through life in New York in the 1940s: the bars, the martinis, parties, the social scene. A complex character, who's a wonderful combination of being naive and stubbornly independent, she keeps her friends close yet at a distance.

As her past tries to catch up with her, and she unknowingly gets entangled with the Mafia, she contemplates what she wants from life.

I don't want to own anything until I know I've found the place where me and things belong together.  I'm not quite sure where that is just yet.  But I know what it's like.... It's like Tiffany's.... Not that I give a hoot about jewelry.  Diamonds, yes.  But it's tacky to wear diamonds before you're forty...

This was my first foray into the world of Capote as well, and I was blown away by the rich lyrical writing, by the richness of Holly's character, and by some of the cleverly crafted paragraphs. It was a delightful read, and I think the story is going to stay with me for a long time, as will Holly: a character that frustrated me to no end, but I still couldn't help but like her.

Jeffrey Eugenides - Middlesex

I was born twice: first as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974. So opens Eugenides' epic novel, Middlesex. Calliope "Cal" Stephanides was declared a girl when she came into this world, against the odds. Her grandmother's spoon (which had successfully predicted the sex of previous unborn children) had swung indicating a son would be born, but, Calliope's father begged to differ saying, "it's science" - well, maybe so, but, fourteen years later (despite being raised as a girl), the Stephanides family learnt that "Cal" had a 5-alpha reductase deficiency, which resulted in the doctor figuring a girl had been born, not a boy.

Narrated by Calliope (and then Cal), this novel isn't just about the experience as a hermaphrodite. In fact, the narrator goes back three generations, where the ancestors were fleeing Greece during the Greek-Turk wars in the 1920s. Time moves on to World War II, the Depression, the race riots in Detroit, Detroit and the assembly line and finally, the present. The story adapts and evolves with each historical event, and its significance in the life of Cal and his ancestors.

This book is quite a chunkster at over 520 pages long, and while the gist seems to suggest its predominant focus is Cal's identity crisis, more than half the book focuses on the history and how the relationships through time have resulted in the present. There are incestuous relationships, the whole talk of what is acceptable and what should be avoidable, the "woman's" role vs. the "man's" and the filial and parental devotion that runs through the book, making it interesting and captivating.

The writing style is slightly bizarre, switching between third and first person, almost as though there's two streams of consciousness. But then again, that's one of the things I do love about Eugenides' writing (think The Virgin Suicides and the collective "we" narrator). The book is interesting, and despite being fairly long, it doesn't drag on or feel as though it's missed the final edit. It's humorous, witty and perceptive, with the scope of its narrative being ambitious, and in my opinion, Eugenides does a wonderful job of pulling it off.

This is the first book that I've read, where the central character is a hermaphrodite. It's also the first book I've read which deals with the Greek-Turk wars. However, I have read a fair few books around the whole immigration malarky, and this does manage to not be stereotypical.

Are there any other books you'd recommend which talks of the Greek-Turk history? How about books belonging to the "LGBT" category?

Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice

Mee invited all Pride and Prejudice first-timers to a readalong in February. I'd like to start this post by apologising for not finishing the book in the second month of the year itself, but, I got sidetracked with a couple of other things, and well, you know how it goes... Pride and Prejudice is my very first Austen (yes, I'm a book blogger who has never read an Austen. Shame on me!), and there are so many things I want to say about the experience. I'm not going to write a proper "review" with a story recap etc. as, well, most people have a general idea as to what the story's about, and in my opinion, knowing more can ruin the story for them.

That was my major gripe with Pride and Prejudice. I really wish I'd read it as a teenager, as I wasn't aware of the storyline back then. Things have changed since, and much to my displeasure, I discovered that a lot of the feel-goodness of the book was lost as I already knew how things would come together in the end. Further, I also knew how a couple of characters would turn out, which was annoying.

That said, I did still enjoy the book, if for nothing else, the language - oh, how I loved the language! Why don't we speak like that now-a-days? Well-articulated, romantic sentences in proper English (it was the nineteenth century), with appropriate exaggerations? It's a fantastic world to get lost into, and the emphasis is so much more on the dialogue than the ambience. Through the dialogue, you acquaint yourself with the characters, and it's almost as though you're right there with them through everything: the balls and the walks, the ecstasy and the misery, the anger and the lament. You even get to read the letters between the characters, which tells you all the more about them, and by the end of the book, everyone has a favourite: Elizabeth Bennet or Mr. Darcy. Unfortunately, none of the other characters jump off the pages as much as the aforementioned.

Yet, I cannot fault Austen for characterisation. As readers, we're introduced to a myriad of characters who stem from being naively good hearted to downright self-involved and manipulative; from being "airheads" (sorry, but that is the apt twenty-first century term) to being gallant; from being weak-minded or avaricious to having severe delusions of grandeur thanks to association. The people would fit in today's society easily - we see them every day! Some we would judge, and some we'd want for our best friend. Some we'd loathe, and some we'd do our best to bring down to earth. Some we'd instantly have an opinion on, only to be proven wrong. That aspect of timelessness amazes me - are society's virtues and vices inherently still the same across two centuries?

And then, we come to the setting: Austen brilliantly brings out life in the nineteenth century, almost satirically. Imagine a world where girls aren't allowed inheritance, despite the property being owned by their father? How about a world where an embarrassing mother is trying to find an eligible bachelor for five teenage daughters (who really should be in school)? Or, a world where people who earn five thousand pounds annually are considered rich? Where girls are looking out for eligible "Officers" as potential husbands - everyone really has only one thing on their minds?! Some of the essential laws of human survival exist: power rules, money talks, estates wow and some people are better as indifferent acquaintances instead of friends!

I did like the dynamics between the characters as well, specially the Bennet family (including the aunts and uncles). Also, must make a special mention of the relationships between Mr. Darcy and his sister, and Mr. Darcy and his aunt Catherine, for they made the book a lot more rich!

I really did enjoy the book, although, maybe not the story in itself, if that makes sense? Again, I attribute that to me already knowing the way the plot would turn, and hence, missing out on the feel-good factor. Also, some of the romanticism and mushiness was a little much for me, but, I guess that was part and parcel of the nineteenth century, and maybe, in another lifetime, I was Elizabeth Bennet. Well, a girl can dream. :)

Muriel Spark - A Far Cry From Kensington

Sometimes, I wonder about myself. Half way through this Fantastic February Female Frivolities (I like alliterations, love double alliterations...), I realised I hadn't picked out a single Virago Modern Classic. Like I said, sometimes, I do wonder about myself. Anyway, the minute this hit me, I reached out for the first VMC I could find on my shelf, and here you have it: Muriel Spark's A Far Cry From Kensington. I haven't read anything by Muriel Spark before, and to be honest, I've always been kind-of intimidated by her works. I wasn't quite sure as to what to expect with A Far Cry From Kensington, but I definitely didn't expect it to be such an easy read - easy enough to finish in just one sitting!

Narrated by Mrs. Hawkins, a war widow, A Far Cry From Kensington is her reflections on a post-War London when she stayed in a "rooming house" in South Kensington, and worked in publishing houses in the early 1950s. Mrs. Hawkins is a likeable narrator - she doesn't hesitate to call a spade a spade, and there's no beating around the bush. Even when she talks about herself, she's direct, honest, and slightly hyperbolic - always good attributes in a story-teller.

There was something about me, Mrs Hawkins, that invited confidences. I was abundantly aware of it, and indeed abundance was the impression I gave. I was massive in size, strong-muscled, huge-bosomed, with wide hips, hefty long legs, a bulging belly and fat backside; I carried an ample weight with my five-foot-six of height, and was healthy with it.

One of the unwritten items on the job spec at a publishers is being diplomatic. While Mrs. Hawkins was well-liked and respected by everyone around her (even her boss confided in her), diplomacy wasn't her strongest asset. On calling an aspiring author, Hector Bartlett, pisseur de copie (a urinator of 'frightful prose') to his face, she finds herself in hot water - the author had a strong relationship with a famous influential authoress, Emma Loy, and she was looking out for him. Inevitably, Mrs. Hawkins lost her job, but the two authors (one famous, the other still unpublished) continued to plague her career, as she herself refused to withdraw the remark.

The secondary thread of the novel revolves around the other inhabitants in the housing, and how they bond together. Wanda, the Polish dressmaker receives an anonymous letter, which threatens to expose her to Inland Revenue for not paying her taxes, and the poor woman is convinced that she will be deported. Mrs. Hawkins (and the other residents) try to sleuth around, eliminating all possible suspects one by one... and then the episode slips to the back of their minds, until Wanda receives an intimidating phone call. The cycle repeats.

The book represents the post-War London, where people from different backgrounds are still affected by the horror of war, but, they're taking on the challenges to make a new life, almost optimistically. Throw in some extortion (fraudulence), some homosexuality, a budding love, humour, wit and even radionics (!), and you've got yourself an absorbing fascinating story, with vivid realistic characters - some awful, some immense. For instance, Hector Bartlett really is a pisseur de copie, but, by the time the book comes to a close, that's not the only phrase you'll use to describe him!

Oh, and let me repeat a small part of the opening paragraph of the book, for it drew me in immediately, and I felt compelled to keep flipping the pages. Even when I flipped to the last page, I almost felt as though I should go back and start from page one.

Can you decide to think? - Yes, you can. You can put your mind to anything most of the time. You can sit peacefully in front of a blank television set, just watching nothing; and sooner or later you can make your own programme much better than the mass product. It's fun, you should try it. You can put anyone you like on the screen, one or in company, saying and doing what you want them to do, with yourself in the middle if you prefer it that way.

Have you read any Muriel Spark? Do you have any recommendations as to what I should read next?

Sarah Waters - The Night Watch

Sarah Waters' The Night Watch is the third novel I've read by her, and it's as different as the previous two as it can be. While one was a gothic ghost story set in Warwickshire (The Little Stranger), the other was a Victorian thriller (Fingersmith). And then we have this: a book set (mostly in) London during and after World War II. The book moves chronologically backwards - the opening section starts in 1947, followed by a chunk set in 1944 and finally in 1941. While nothing much happens in the opening section, it does define the state of the main protagonists, and how the years of war have led to their present situation - which isn't exactly joyous.

Maybe it's right after all, what the newspaper prophets say: that one gets paid back in the way one deserves. Maybe we've forfeited our right to happiness, by doing bad things, or by letting bad things happen.

There's Kay, a lonely figure, who is a lesbian and spent the war years being a female ambulance driver, and playing hero. Now, she wanders the streets and goes to the cinema, sometimes just to watch half the movie.

Then we meet Duncan, a young boy who lives with his "Uncle." During the years of war, while most men were being drafted, Duncan was in another kind of hell, which led to his relationship with his family deteriorating further. He now draws comfort from his older sister, Vivian, the only person in the family who still seems to care about him. However, Vivian is fighting her own battles - in a relationship with a married soldier - a secret she harbours closely; Duncan being the only one privy to it. She works with the fourth primary protagonist, Helen, in a matchmaking office, as they try to find the "right" person for whoever enters their office.

Helen, also a lesbian, is in a loving relationship with Julia, a famous author. Yet, her jealousy and paranoia seems go beyond the natural, and one has to wonder as to why...

1944, when the war was at its worse and "blackout" was enforced, the characters real stories come to life, and it's not pretty. Nothing about war is pretty. Kay's work as an ambulance driver sees her recover as many carcasses as people who can actually be helped... maybe even more. She tries to protect those younger and less impressionable, and seems to do the humane thing, as opposed to being a stickler for rules. In the end, she was my favourite character - by far.

We see a horrific botched abortion, by a dentist, and its consequences; discover the houses which are now merely rubble and stone; walk the streets of London with the characters - be it with two women starting an affair, or two other women trying to rescue as many people as they can! Not only do we discover Duncan's past, but, we also witness the meeting of the "glamour girl" Vivian with the soldier, Reggie, in a train lavatory!

Little symbols are scattered through the book - Vivan clutching a gold ring in her hand, and then transferring it to its rightful owner; the most beautiful pair of pyjamas as a birthday present which were never worn; Duncan's job making night lights. The significance of each of these symbols, despite being introduced in the first section, isn't quite apparent immediately. Yet, as you read on, the jigsaw starts coming together and making more sense.

Yet, for everything I liked about this book, I didn't actually love it. Not at all. The lesbianism was overdone, and some of the descriptions was unnecessary. There seemed to be more emphasis on the sexuality of the characters than the actual horror of war, at times. Also, to me (and I might be wrong here), the inclusion of Duncan was simply to have a male perspective as well, but his character, despite being an interesting one, didn't really add much to the story. The authenticity of some of the intertwining stories defied logic (e.g. Reggie-Vivian), and I was left feeling quite confused about Duncan and "Uncle" Horace's relationship.

If you're a Sarah Waters fan, I'd suggest reading it, but, if not, I'd give it a miss. It's nowhere near as good as Fingersmith, so like me, if you are seeking a repeat of that experience, I'd suggest heading in the other direction.

David Mitchell - Cloud Atlas

In January 2009, I was introduced to the wonderful world of David Mitchell by a friend, who lent me the surreal number9dream - a book I absolutely loved. She proceeded to lend me Cloud Atlas next, and it's been sitting abandoned on my unread shelf for about a year now, as I've been reluctant to pick it up for a myriad of reasons - book bloggers everywhere rave about it calling it a favourite, it's considerably chunky at 529 pages, and, well, it's Mitchell's most acclaimed book yet. Anyhow, I finally picked it up about a week back, and rode the long roller-coaster that is this book - it's a heck of a ride, you're almost begging for it to finish (as, all said and done, it is a difficult book to read), but when you eventually do turn the last page, you want to experience it all over again.

The book comprises of six independent stories, that span centuries and the atlas, of which five are told in "halves," revolving around the central tale of the post-apocalyptic future, where humans are living as savages, after The Fall. In the first set of "halves", which goes chronologically, each story is read/seen by a character in the subsequent one. In the second set, the stories start moving backwards, so the characters end up reading/seeing the story that follows. Hence, the opening chapter of the book (the first incomplete half-story) is completed in the last chapter.

The common theme that runs through the book is the presence of a "comet-shaped birthmark" - a distinction present in the protagonist of each story. Does this suggest reincarnation? The existence of the soul across generations? Or, is that merely coincidental?

Souls cross ages like clouds cross skies, an’ tho’ a cloud’s shape nor hue nor size don’t stay the same it’s still a cloud an’ so is a soul. Who can say where the cloud's blowed from or who the soul'll be 'morrow?

The Pacific Journals of Adam Ewing {1850s} : A journal written by an American notary in the Pacific, who befriends an English surgeon as well as a stowaway Moriori. This story is cut off mid-sentence (and comes together nicely as the last chapter)...

Letters from Zedleghem {1931} : A young aspiring bankrupt composer, Robert Frobisher, goes to Belgium to apprentice with a famous composer, hoping to make some easy money, and simultaneously finding some success. Here, he discovers The Pacific Journals in the library...

Not only are there some romantic (and otherwise) twists in the tale, but, as Frobisher details his life in the Belgian estate to an old friend, Sixsmith (in the form of letters), the reader is introduced to Frobisher's biggest work, revolutionary or gimmicky: The Cloud Atlas Sextet.

Half Lives : The First Luisa Rey Mystery {1970s} : We move across the pond for this one, where Luisa Rey is a journalist, and is focusing on a big expose on the Swannekke Island Nuclear Plant in California. Sixsmith is the scientist who gave her the lead for the story, and in time, she reads the letters written to him by Frobisher. Luisa, trying to follow in her father's footsteps, seems to be hellbent on justice (consequentialism), even if it is at the expense of her own life.

The Ghastly Ordeal of Timothy Cavendish {present-day} : The focus shifts to present-day United Kingdom, where Timothy Cavendish is a struggling not-so-moral publisher, but, when he is tricked into admitting himself in an old-age home, with no way out, he starts trying to figure out the best way to escape, which leads to more trouble for him. A manuscript of The First Luisa Rey Mystery was sent to him by an author, and he's contemplating publishing it...

An Orison of Somni 451 {near future} : In this dystopia, where fabricants are slaves to purebloods, Somni 451 has ascended, and managed to develop her own personality, by acquiring immense knowledge. It's a story about the struggle of powers, the violence that emerges and the unfortunate state of things as they stand. She's not a partaker though, merely an observer, who recites her life-story to an Archivist. She was watching the film of Timothy Cavendish, when she was taken away...

Sloosha’s Crossin’ an’ Ev’rythin’ After {Post-apocalyptic future} : Zach'ry is the protagonist here, in a civilisation that considers Somni god, and Ol' Georgie the devil. Zach'ry and his family are savages, in awe of the Smarts, believing that the Soul either reincarnates or gets set to stone. Technology is a myth in this civilisation, and, the people mainly herd goats or the like, living in tribes in forests, fearing invasion and power struggles by the terrifying Kona.

This book is immense - the writing style in each of the stories changes significantly, so much so that they read as completely different stories : from Victorian formal english, peppered with ampersands and other shorthands, to pidgin english which I personally found quite annoying to read. However, each style seems to reflect the age it it set in, appropriately, as well as, the structure of each story seems to be similar to its genre. For example, the Luisa Rey mystery is written in numerous short chapters, much like an airport thriller, whereas, the post-apocalyptic narration is written as a rather long rant.

The common theme that binds these stories together soars above and beyond the comet-shaped birthmark. It's a story about power, domination, and the ultimate quest to rule. The stories stress on the selfishness of people, and how ultimately, this will lead to the inevitable apocalypse.

Yes, the devil shall take the hindmost until the foremost is the hindmost. In an individual, selfishness uglifies the soul; for the human species, selfishness is extinction.

While I enjoyed this book, parts of the stories just didn't grab me, and I was left quite unsure as to what's going on, and how these stories are inter-linked together. Why isn't it just a book of short stories? A much less author might have done that... or, attempted six different novels, with completely different themes. However, Mitchell, managed to tie most of the loose ends together, and left me questioning my own existence, and the power of one individual. It's an ambitious work, but, in my opinion, Mitchell's managed to pull it off surprisingly well.

Virginia Woolf - Mrs. Dalloway

Claire {@ kissacloud} and three friends are doing a Woolf In Winter read-along. The first book they're tackling is Mrs. Dalloway, and it's being hosted by Sarah {@ what we have here is a failure to communicate}. I picked up the Vintage classic last year, while idly browsing a second hand book store, and have since been extremely ambivalent about it - mostly because I've never read a book by Virginia Woolf, and I have an inexplicable fear of the unknown, specially when it comes to much-acclaimed classics. Mrs. Dalloway is probably the most difficult novel I've ever read. And, I'll go out on a limb and say it's probably (one of) the most difficult book(s) I'll ever read.

Woolf's meanderings is essentially a stream-of-consciousness-style narrative to provide an insight into the lives of a few Londoners, including the protagonist: Clarissa Dalloway, who is preoccupied with the last minute details of a party she is to give that evening. Yet, the book digresses between reality, flashbacks as well as imaginary visions of the characters, and these digressions are helped greatly by the complete absence of chapters, so that the reader is left trying to figure out which character's on centre-stage at any given point in time, and how their story fits in the grand scheme of things, the grand finale, the party.

Set in London, a few years after the first World War, Mrs. Dalloway unsurprisingly starts off with the spotlight on the protagonist herself, the wife of a politician, who is planning to throw a party. Yet, as the book progresses, and the clock on the Big Ben ticks, the spotlight falls on a myriad of characters including Peter Walsh, an ex-boyfriend of Mrs. Dalloway, who has just come back to London, and brings back old memories; Septimus Smith, a war veteran, who seems disconnected from the story, as he slips into insanity, haunted by the ghost of one of his friends who died during the war; doctors who attempt treating Smith; his worried wife, Rezia; Mrs. Dalloway's daughter Elizabeth, and Mrs. Dalloway's enemy, Miss. Kilman.

The story, in real terms, lasts just one day, but, with the many different perspectives that Woolf weaves in, it seems to last a lifetime (in a good way). It's sensitive, philosophical even, giving an insight into human nature as we don't really know it, but, emphasising, ever so subtly, on the appreciation of life, and the eventuality of death.

So, he was deserted. The whole world was clamouring: Kill yourself, kill yourself, for our sakes. But why should he kill himself for their sakes? Food was pleasant; the sun hot; and this killing oneself, how does one set about it, with a table knife, uglily, with floods of blood - by sucking a gaspipe?

It's a relatively short novel, at 172 pages. However, it took me over five hours to finish it, and all my concentration. There were sentences about fourteen lines long, there were connotations long-winded and intense, there were provoking thoughts that stayed on, long after you'd flipped the page. Yes, Mrs. Dalloway's primary preoccupation was with the party, and exulting in life's wake. She had married a man she presumably didn't love as much as she loved someone else. Yet, her character is anything but superficial, flawed with merits - or, should that be meritorious with flaws?

She muddled Armenians with Turks; loved success; hated discomfort; must be liked; talked oceans of nonsense; and to this day, ask her what the Equator was, and she did not know.

All the same that one day should follow another; Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday; that one should wake up in the morning; walk in the park; meet Hugh Whitbread; then suddenly in came Peter; then these roses; it was enough. After that, how unbelievable death was! - that it must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all; how every instant...

The other thing I loved about this book was it's glimpses into London in the early 1900s. I thought that Woolf captured the heart and soul of central London beautifully (this book is mostly based in and around Westminster), and I actually felt that I was accompanying the characters, as they ambled the streets, or rode the Omnibus, or napped in Regents Park, or, for that matter, enjoyed the hustle-bustle at the Strand.

I am really pleased that I read this book, and I will be seeking another Woolf book sometime in the future, albeit, I don't think I can do four Woolfs in eight weeks - it's seriously hard work! Hats off to all those of you who are! Claire {@ Paperback Reader} and Rachel {@ Book Snob} recommended reading Michael Cunningham's The Hours after reading Woolf's masterpiece. Subsequently, I'll be reading it later this month.

Thanks to Claire {kissacloud}, Sarah {what we have here is a failure to communicate}, Emily {evening all afternoon} and Frances {Nonsuch Book} for hosting this wonderful read-along.

Daphne Du Maurier - My Cousin Rachel

For twenty four years, Daphne Du Maurier has eluded me, and I'm still trying to figure out how! I read Rebecca earlier this year, and loved it, which led me to pick up My Cousin Rachel. Surprise, surprise! I loved it as well. My Cousin Rachel is narrated by Philip Ashley, who was orphaned at a young age, and brought up by his older affluent cousin, Ambrose. Philip is totally devoted to Ambrose, and in turn, Ambrose to his naive younger cousin.

Health problems force Ambrose to spend the winter months in Italy, and one year, he sends a letter home saying he is married to Rachel. Philip, consumed by jealousy, isn't able to share the happiness and excitement that the friends and family seem to revel in.

My cousin Rachel had a dozen personalities or more and each one more hateful than the last. I saw her forcing Ambrose to his knees to play at bears, the children astride his back, and Ambrose consenting with a humble grace, having lost all dignity.

When Ambrose's letters home mention sickness, and further ill-health, Philip makes plans to visit his cousin. The last letter received before his departure has an almost illegible scroll: For God's sake, come to me quickly. She has done for me at last, Rachel my torment. If you delay, it may be too late. Ambrose.

By the time Philip reaches Florence, Ambrose has passed on - a result of a brain tumour, the doctors day. Philip refuses to believe that, and insists that Rachel has had something to do with his cousin's unfortunate and untimely demise. Rachel has disappeared, and left the handling of her affairs (and villa) to a untrustworthy-looking man, Rainaldi.

Philip, the heir of Ambrose's estate, returns home and attempts continuing running things as he has been taught, silently glad that Rachel wasn't left anything in Ambrose's will. However, when Rachel comes to England, she seems to be the diametric opposite of what Philip thought, and he quickly discards his many theories associating her with Ambrose's death.

Not having a relationship with any woman previously, Philip is drawn to Rachel like a moth to a flame, and acts naively and impulsively - much reminiscent of the narrator in Rebecca. Yet, Rachel plays the part of the mourning widow to perfection, instead of acting like the black widow... yet, the questions are always there: was Rachel responsible for the events in Italy? Will history repeat itself?

The beauty of this book is in Du Maurier's immense skill of weaving a dramatic plot, that leaves the reader on the edge of their seat. Hints are scattered around artistically, and the various clues that make up the story keeps the reader guessing right till the very end - and beyond. If you had questions while reading the book, the number of questions that flood your mind once the book is completed increases tenfold.

Rating: A

Daphne du Maurier - Rebecca

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me.

So opens Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca, and it's an opening line that piques the reader's curiosity. Also, it seems to be a retrospective metaphor for the narrator's, a young girl who remains nameless, life at Manderley.

The late Mrs. Rebecca de Winter, the lady of Manderley, the wife of Maxim de Winter, the attractive tall dark-haired woman, who was politically correct and loved by one and all for her social graces, and her "breeding", inspired the title of this classic. But, she's not the narrator. In fact, the narrator is the "other woman", the new Mrs. de Winter, the new lady of Manderley, a young girl of low social standing, who is also socially awkward and shy.

Maxim de Winter meets the narrator in a hotel at Monte Carlo, while she's a companion to a rich and pretentious woman. While the woman tries her level best to charm Maxim, he is quite taken by the young narrator, and when the old lady falls ill and hires a nurse, Maxim spends a lot of time with the "companion", and they both find that they enjoy each other's company, despite the massive age difference. He never talks of Rebecca, and she never asks. She's heard the gossip about the lady of Manderley, a Manor house in Cornwall, drowning in a sailing accident, and Maxim's immediate breakdown.

When her employer decides to cut short the holiday, she runs to Maxim, who proposes marriage: she can be a companion to Mrs. Van Hopper, or she can marry him and be the lady of Manderley! She happily agrees to the latter, ignoring the fact that Maxim has never said anything about love. In fact, Mrs. Van Hopper, who the narrator has nothing but contempt for, offers the young girl a final piece of advice:

"Of course," she said, "you know why he is marrying you, don't you? You haven't flattered yourself he's in love with you?

But, the couple get married, honeymoon in Italy, and then head to the wonder that is Manderley.

Yes, there it was, the Manderley I had expected, the Manderley of my picture post-card long ago. A thing of grace and beauty, exquisite and faultless, lovelier even than I had ever dreamed, built in its hollow of smooth grassland, and mossy lawns, the terraces sloping to the gardens, and the gardens to the sea.

However, the happiness and wonder of the honeymoon ends right there, as the narrator meets the staff, who expect someone from a high social class - someone similar to Rebecca. The scornful Mrs. Danvers, who runs the household, treats the narrator with utter contempt, for, how can someone like her replace the Rebecca that Mrs. Danvers was devoted to? Her social awkwardness, her insecurities, and her mannerisms brings out the worst in Mrs. Danvers, who is excessively hostile, seemingly focusing on making the narrator's life uneasy...

How much more uneasy can you make someone who is haunted by her husband's dead wife's ghost, that she can almost see Rebecca, hear the conversations Rebecca has with the staff, with Maxim? How can she escape the past, and try out a hand at being the Lady of Manderley, when everything that she wants to do has already been done - be it cutting the flowers, or placing them neatly in a vase, for decorative purposes; be it sitting at the desk in the morning room, or going for walks with the cocker spaniel, Jasper? And, how can she compare to the beauty that was Rebecca when Maxim's own sister told her that she was nothing like Rebecca?! And, is Maxim still in love with his wife who hasn't even been dead a year?

Just as the reader comes to grip with the story line, the plot twists, and the reader (or me, at least) can't help but continuously flip the pages, and beg for more - to find out more about Rebecca; to find out more about Mrs. Danvers; and most importantly, to find out more about Maxim. The twists keeps the book interesting and gripping, and one can't help be amazed by how things pan out.

I loved the book to bits. I really did. In fact, I was due an early night yesterday, but I was up 'til the wee hours of the morning finishing this classic. The prose is descriptive and beautiful, and the story incredible. Manderley sounds heavenly, and I've spent most of my day trying to imagine what Manderley would look like, based on du Maurier's vivid descriptions. Wild flowers, gardens, the sea, the library, the "west wing", the "east wing", the works, really!

However, I did find that the narrator's character one-dimensional, and I don't think I really understood her. Maybe it's the times (the book was written in the 1930s), but, I can't help but wonder what can prompt a young girl to marry someone her father's age? Is it just the thought that there's someone out there who loves her, for she did delude herself into thinking Maxim had asked her to marry him because of love? And how can someone be so forgiving, and turn a blind eye to all their lover's flaws?

Have you read Rebecca? Or, any other DDM? What did you think of it? Would you love to live in a place like Manderley? Or, is it just not for you?

Rating: 4.5

PS: Thanks to Sandy from You've Gotta Read This for hosting the read-along. I'm running way ahead of schedule (it was meant to be 16 chapters by the 8th, and the rest of the book by the 15th), but I just couldn't stop reading! Blame du Maurier and Rebecca, not me!

Sarah Waters - Fingersmith

It's the 1860s, and Lant Street, a dodgy street near Southwark Bridge, is inhabited by petty thieves, small-time burglars, piddling swindlers and the like. Here lives Sue Trinder, a seventeen year old, with Mrs. Sucksby (her guardian), and Mr. Ibbs (a man who fences stolen items), along with a bunch of infants, unwanted in this world, who Mrs. Sucksby brings up and introduces to the world of small crime; and, some adolescent pickpockets (or, "fingersmiths", if you like).

We were all more or less thieves at Lant Street. But we were that kind of thief that rather eased the dodgy deed along, than did it . We could pass anything, anything at all, at speeds which would astonish you.

One day, Gentleman, a fraudster who was born into a rich cultured family, but went wayward with time, comes to visit (as he oft' does), with a proposal: He wants to take Sue to become a maid to a rich heiress (standing to get the money upon marriage) who lives at The Briar (a dark miserable place, where the sun never seems to shine), with an eccentric Uncle: Maud. Maud is unaware of how much she is worth, and she is supposed to be a lady in all rights. Sue's job is simple: make Maud her confidante, and convince her to marry Gentleman. After marriage, Gentleman will have Maud committed to a mad person's home (lunatic asylum), and, take her fortune as his own. Sue will get £3,000 for her role in the affair, and while she is slightly dubious about the plan, she agrees, to make Mrs. Sucksby and Mr. Ibbs proud.

And so, after being trained by Gentleman, Sue heads to The Briar, and seeks to get the wheels in motion. Everything is going exactly according to the plan: the Gentleman arrives, Maud is completely smitten, they plan the elopement, and Sue helps at every stage.

However, just as you, the reader, thinks everything is happening as planned, and the plot falls into place, Waters does an incredible job of delivering twist after twist - things that you'd never expect, but that doesn't come across as unbelievable. It's a book about love, jealousy, betrayal and a web of lies, that seems to spin deeper and deeper, denser and denser. It's dark, ruthless, and sinister. The characters almost float off the page and dance before you, just as if to prove how real they are. However, despite being descriptive, the book isn't dull at any stage. Instead, it grips you, and you just keep turning the page, desperate to know what happens next. And... with amazing skill, Waters ensures that you're always guessing... for nothing is as it seems.

Rating: 5