The Greengage Summer by Rumer Godden
The five Grey kids, Joss, Cecil, Hester, Willmouse and Vicky, were each born three years apart, ranging in age from 4 to 16. They barely know their absentee botanist father, who only returns from international fieldwork once every three years. (Do you sense a pattern?) One summer, their mother decides to take them to the battlefields of France to imbibe the history of great sacrifice. Yet she ends up in hospital suffering from a dangerously infected horsefly bite. Meanwhile, the kids are left at loose ends at their hotel, Les Oeillets. A fellow guest, Mr Eliot, offers to take charge of the quintet, and Mother agrees based on first impression, without thinking to check his credentials. Hmm, our readers' suspicion antennae are set twitching.
It's partly a coming-of-age story. The narrator, 13-year-old Cecil, is quietly disgruntled because her beautiful 16-year-old sister Joss is making such an impression on Eliot. Cecil's tweenie desire to be special is always in conflict with her desire not to stick out. She wants to be unusual, but whenever anyone suggests they already are, she feels indignant and embarrassed.
It soon becomes clear there's a mystery concerning their friend Eliot, but the kids aren't sure they want to clear it up, since his handy charisma has worked on each of them, and they love him.
The distinct and quirky personalities of characters gives this story its charm. Not just the Grey siblings but the hotel staff too. I love it that meticulous7-year-old Willmouse, the only boy in the family, aspires to become a fashion designer. I also like perceptive Cecil's comments. For example, 'It was odd that we, who had never seen elegance before, immediately recognised it.' And I appreciate the sensual and vivid descriptions of the French summer, including the greengage plums which are alluded to in the title.
My main reservation is whether Godden tries to make the story too dramatic at the end by adding murder to the plot. It was really unneccesary, since there is already crime enough for a book which is more of a reflective ramble than an eventful potboiler. It seems melodramatic, doesn't really fit the tone, and is a shame, considering the character who is sacrificed. Oh, and there's also too much untranslated French. Godden takes after Charlotte Bronte here, but in the most annoying way.
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Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild
Meg Ryan's character Kathleen Kelly from the movie 'You've Got Mail' strongly recommended this charming kids' classic from 1936. I picked up this old Puffin from a secondhand book sale for the sake of the memories.
It's about the three adopted Fossil sisters who make a pact to make their name count, and get their start in the performing arts. Pauline is great at putting on other people's characters like garments. Little Posy is clearly born for dancing. Petrova, the middle sister, would prefer to be wearing overalls and tinkering with engines but gets swept along with the family stage passion anyway.
I enjoyed it as a sturdy, uncoordinated little girl, when it gave me aspirations to learn drama and dancing, which never amounted to anything. I found it an okay read when I revisited it recently. Alas, I'd forgotten about poor Winifred, the most talented student in the school of performing arts. But she misses out on the best roles even though she aces auditions because she lacks Pauline's classical beauty. Winifred has a 'clever, interesting looking face' and straight, mousy brown hair, but this never quite cuts it.
Noel Streatfeild doesn't shy away from life's injustices. She reveals a shallow and demanding industry that requires a performer's heart and soul. Somehow, this actually comes through without losing any of the vintage charm of the story. But it sure doesn't make me inclined to track down the rest of the 'Shoes' series, and I was surprised to discover there are 11 spin-offs. Some people must've loved them. Based on this first, which is said to be the very best, I wasn't one of them.
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Absent in the Spring by Mary Westmacott
I'm assuming it's general knowledge that Mary Westmacott was the pseudonym Agatha Christie used when she wanted to try her hand at a different genre than mystery. This is said to be Dame Agatha's personal favourite Westmacott title. When I read that on the Christie website, I got hold of the e-version offered by my state library.
Christie/Westmacott was eager to delve into the confronting question of whether we tend to view ourselves with far more affection and lenience than we really deserve. What if others see our true colours, and regard us as huge hassles in their lives? What if, in our comfy habit of thinking well of ourselves, we're clueless about what's really going on?
She explores the theme through Joan Scudamore, a self-satisfied, middle-aged wife and mother. Joan's husband, Rodney, is a successful lawyer and their three adult children were all smart kids with nice manners which she took credit for. So Joan is stranded in transit for a short time between London and Baghdad, where she'd been helping her daughter, Barbara, through a brief illness. At first Joan is thankful for the opportunity to simply rest for a few days, but the stillness of the desert railway siding hotel starts playing havoc with her nerves.
As memories and nostalgia filter through her mind, Joan begins to wonder whether she's a busy-body, control-freak and trouble-maker who others simply tolerate and secretly blame for stamping the passion out of their lives. Once the train gets moving she's thankful to escape her morbid imagination and resume life as normal.
But were her misgivings really imaginary? Cue the eerie music! Something like reverse gaslighting is taking place. Rather than telling her clearly and honestly when she oversteps the mark hundreds of times, Joan's family members find it easier to let her drift on in her oblivious domestic paradise. Since they're colluding in a collective copout, perhaps it's partly their own fault that she makes them feel wretched. I have little respect for Rodney, Tony, Averil and Barbara for quietly resenting Joan behind her back all those years to avoid some short term discomfort. Having said that, they probably know her well enough to sense that honesty would be ineffective. Yet they never once put it to the test within these pages. This is not a pleasant read but quite an interesting one.
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