'Gone with the Wind' by Margaret Mitchell (Chapters 31 - 47)

Note: I'm well into the story now so beware of spoilers. This will be the third of four parts. 

This section deals with the mop-up these Southerners face after losing the war, and different people's adaptability. It begins with the threat of Tara being sold off beneath the O'Hara family's noses because they can't afford the sky high taxes; and the drastic action Scarlett is determined to take to secure her plantation home, whatever the cost to herself may be. Meanwhile, the Confederates' whipped dog status is taking its toll on everyone. 

We get more of the pitiful inner workings of Ashley Wilkes than ever before. He professes how cowardly he feels, and ill-equipped to adapt to the harsh new reality. His personality was a perfect fit for the old world, when he would float around his father's plantation, looking handsome and thinking bookish, philosophical, cultural thoughts. But now that Twelve Oaks is burned and folk everywhere must turn their hands to new, formerly demeaning occupations, his whole life appears redundant. Ashley fails to fit the new brief, whether it's working the ground at Tara or managing a mill in Atlanta. Rhett rubs it in by calling Ashley the sort of guy who was only ever fit to be an ornament at the best of times. 

But who does Ashley really love; Scarlett or Melanie? I picture him as a 'devil on one shoulder and angel on the other' sort of guy. He seems to ruminate on depressing, non-productive thoughts, and could maybe benefit from some of Scarlett's, 'I won't think about that now,' approach. Margaret Mitchell has presented Ashley as a dreamer in the most negative sense of the word. Yet it's still easy to feel sorry for this fish out of water. He needs a stable, 21st century academic job, that's what Ashley needs.  

Meanwhile, Scarlett adopts a polar opposite approach to the man she professes to love so devotedly. After her resolution to never go hungry again, she will do whatever it takes to be a money magnet, whether it's offering herself to be Rhett's mistress for a loan, stealing Frank Kennedy from her sister Suellen, or becoming a cheating, unscrupulous business woman once she gets her sawmills operating. She taps into entrepreneurial brilliance she'd never have needed if not for the War and its aftermath. 'I've found out that money is the most important thing in the world and I'll never be without it again.' 

Scarlett still carries devotion to her mother's gracious memory, but decides to defer being kind and gentle until she's rolling in greenbacks. Woven through the text is a thorny question. Is being successful in the business world incompatible with being a decent, principled person in the traditional sense? Because as Rhett points out, the 'nice' people are currently living in dire poverty. And Scarlett carries proof that her store and sawmills would never thrive without some ruthless or dodgy moves on her part to maintain momentum. The narrator comments that she was 'undimmed by any realisation that she has no desire to be sweet or kind now.' And as Rhett points out, her kindness muscles have probably jumped overboard and suffered a sea change. Dollar signs and sweetness are so often mutually exclusive.

 Scarlett is a female Ebenezer Scrooge, relegating her nearest relatives to second place. A new baby, Ella Lorena Kennedy, is the price she pays for marrying Frank, but Scarlett is clear that the mills are far more important to her than her children could ever hope to be. The ultimate losers are Wade and Ella, born out of Scarlett's spite and necessity respectively. But even though they're shoved to her periphery, at least now they'll never go hungry. 

We're invited to ponder whether or not choosing the guiding star of money means maternal love must inevitably suffer. I remember a meme that popped up on my news feed once. 'Women are expected to work as if we have no children, and raise children as if we had no work.' Perhaps Scarlett, the only business woman in town, is discovering this impossible conundrum for herself. And she makes her choice clear.

Scarlett is never handicapped by Ashley's style of grief for the loss of art, literature or music, for she doesn't care for any of that sappy stuff. The guys in her life know it. Rhett sometimes shakes his head over her ignorance, Ashley admires her practical 'lack of imagination', and her brother-in-law Will knows she was 'never interested in what was in folks' heads.' It's just part and parcel of who Scarlett is.  

Most of the action of this section takes place in Atlanta rather than Tara, but the bits we do get are intriguing, including the Will and Suellen thread. Without giving too much away, Suellen makes an audacious move to try and attain $150 000 from the Yankees, which backfires and sets the neighbours against her. Will tactfully defuses the murderous tension at Gerald's funeral and proposes to Suellen in the bargain. It's a match with clear benefits for both, but I wonder if they'll grow to love each other. 

This section delivers some disgusting and scary Ku Klux Klan incidents indulged in by 'good' guys. Tony Fontaine kills two men on the basis of frenzied, racist hatred, yet Scarlett questions, 'What can we do with devils who'd hang a nice boy like Tony just for killing a drunken buck and scoundrel scallawag to protect his womenfolk?' The evil KKK is presented as a necessity dreamed up by chivalrous chaps whose sole aim is to be knights in shining armour. The mindsets behind history are nowhere as strong as in novels, so I appreciate Gone with the Wind for attempting to help us grasp the unthinkable. (It's quite hilarious when the men are delivered from arrest by Rhett's quick thinking, but must pretend they were customers at Belle Watling's brothel. That bit does make me laugh.)   

Finally, a couple of ladies make amusing analogies. Grandma Fontaine likens Ashley to a turtle lying on his back. Later, Mammy tells Scarlett that she and Rhett are just like mules dressed up as thoroughbred horses. And Scarlett herself shows a flash of insight when she compares Frank to a timid old brown field rabbit. Perhaps these cool metaphors add to the compelling nature of a book which I still have no idea why I'm enjoying so much. Scarlett and Rhett both make me groan, but I must plow on to find out what will happen now that she's all set to become Mrs Butler. It should be smooth sailing for both reckless opportunists, but we all know his infamous closing line. Stay tuned for my last installment, which will take us to the end of the behemoth er, novel, when I will discuss Chapters 48 - 63.

'In the High Valley' by Susan Coolidge

Lionel Young and his sister, Imogen, set out for the picturesque but remote High Valley in Colorado, leaving their hometown in Devonshire, England behind. Lionel wants to take the share in Geoffrey Templestowe’s cattle business. Imogen, owing to her prejudices against America and the American way of life, finds it hard to adjust to life over there.

Clover Templestowe, now happily married and living in the High Valley, at first finds it very trying to get on with Imogen.
A lot of events ensure in the course of which we meet again with Rose Red, get news from Cousin Helen and of course meet Katy again…

MY THOUGHTS: 

Warning: This is the last book in Susan Coolidge's 'What Katy Did' series. Plot spoilers of events that happened in or directly after the former stories are inevitable, because of where this one picks up from. 

Oh gosh, this is as cheesy a story as you could stumble across, yet a must-read for anyone who has finished the rest of Susan Coolidge's Katy Chronicles, because it provides some lovely closure for the rest of the Carr siblings, wrapping things up nicely for Clover, Elsie, Dorry, Johnnie and Phil. 

First off, I'm a great fan of the Elsie/Clarence match which we're simply dropped into. I'd been a little disappointed when Clover didn't choose him, but this is so much better! I'm certain these two former misunderstood and overlooked kids must have bonded over shared stories about the woes of being younger siblings. That's my guess, but all we're really told is that he swept her off her feet and now they have a baby daughter. Whoa, talk about tantalizing major story gaps. I liked both Elsie and Clarence a lot, even though they each had their difficult moments, as the little we got of them was always larger than life. 

So Geoff and Clarence are still ranch partners in the High Valley, while Clover and Elsie are equally busy on the home front, keeping their communal house beautiful and popping out offspring for the boys. It's quite restful reading about their pastoral lifestyle, sixteen miles from civilization, beneath all those mountains, and among all those fragrant flowers. 

Their nearest neighbours are a young brother and sister duo named Lionel and Imogen Young, who have come all the way from Devonshire. They were neighbours of Geoff Templestowe's family. Lionel has worked as a sort of teenage apprentice with Geoff and Clarence before, and now he's all set to buy into a share of the ranch himself, while Imogen is going to keep house for him. According to the narrator, many sisters make this sacrifice for their brothers, but I can't imagine myself being one of them. 

Imogen is homesick for the British coast and predisposed to look down her nose at all things American. We're also told she's sort of frumpy, a little jealous of Clover, and would have preferred moving to somewhere such as Canada or Australia, for colonial reasons we assume. A bit slow on the uptake, Imogen lets out a lot of unintentional racial gaffes which mildly shock her nineteenth century neighbours and probably appall many of her twenty-first century readers. Put it this way, Susan Coolidge would never get this story past a sensitivity editor in its current state. 

There are visits from several old faces from earlier books, including the awesome (Rose Red), the annoying (Mrs Watson), and the closest family members (Dorry and Johnnie, and later Katy and Papa). Hold onto your hats for the romantic roller coaster at the end. Coolidge justifies all that happens by saying, 'In a retired place like the High Valley, intimacies flourish with wonderful facility and quickness.' I'll say they do, to such an extent that the boys ought to consider setting up their ranch as some sort of love shack on the side, for a secondary income.

It's all good fun, and reminds me a bit of The Enchanted April in some ways. It's probably a two star read, but I'll add another one because of Elsie and Clarence.

🌟🌟🌟 

'Gone with the Wind' by Margaret Mitchell (Chapters 17 - 30)

Note: Since I'll be discussing my thoughts of the book in sections, there will be some spoilers, but I'll still attempt to hedge around crucial points carefully. However, as I've said before, I do consider old classics are fair game. 

MY THOUGHTS: 

The historical drama escalates to a high pitch.

 At the start of this section, it becomes evident the Yankee invasion of Atlanta is inevitable and indeed the Union Troops are moving steadily closer. Scarlett continues to despise Melanie, who is now pregnant. Yet she feels bound by her promise to Ashley to care for his wife. Melanie still has no idea of Scarlett's true feelings toward her. In fact she'd prefer Scarlett to adopt her baby if anything goes wrong, rather than either of Ashley's two sisters. Meanwhile, poor little Wade is terrified by the sound of gunfire and shells, and Rhett asks Scarlett to be his mistress because he admires her pluck and stubbornness. She refuses. 

Whoa, then all hell breaks loose! On the day Melanie's baby is born, the Yankees are moving in and the Confederates are blowing up all their own powder magazines before leaving town. Wounded soldiers prevent the doctor from attending the birth. No sooner does Melanie finish her gruelling labour than they must flee behind a rickety old horse. Rhett starts them on their way and then nicks off to join the army, (leaving it until the last possible second to muster his patriotic fervour, I must say). Unprepared Scarlett finds herself in charge of a wagon full of dependents. It includes depleted Melanie who dodged dying in childbirth by a cat's whisker, Prissy the panicking slave girl, Beau the vulnerable newborn and Wade the terrified toddler.

Scarlett's wild thoughts at this stage include the title of the book. 'Was Tara still standing? Or was it gone with the wind which had swept through Georgia?' Her family has certainly been tragically affected. 

I can't help wondering whether this huge trial will soften Scarlett or harden her even more. I've read that some people under pressure become 'carrots' while others prove themselves to be 'eggs.' In a pivotal moment after their homecoming, Scarlett resolves to survive, and opts for the 'egg' route. She'll be like her ancestors who have 'taken the worst fate can hand them and hammer it into the best.' A certain hardness is inevitable, if she's to maintain Tara. Scarlett decides she needs to be brusque and demanding with everyone. Vulnerability would open a floodgate that must remain closed, so postponing her own feelings of devastation becomes a survival tactic. 'I won't think about it now. I'll think about it later.' Hmm, does this sort of deferral ever end well?

Scarlett vows, 'As God is my witness, I'm never going to be hungry again!' (Personally, I think she's drawing from the same sense of bitterness that guided her to marry Charles. This time it's directed at the Yankees instead of Honey Wilkes and Melanie. Yet the narrator remarks that few of the returning soldiers are bitter. They'd fought a good fight and lost. We're told, 'they left bitterness to their women and old people.')

Another interesting observation is how Scarlett shrugs off the values of kindness and gentility her mother had spent pains teaching her. She decides that Ellen's standards were obviously wrong and way out of touch for the real world. Yet even the narrator remarks that they were fine for the era they were just emerging from. Ellen could not have foreseen the complete and sudden collapse of the civilisation in which she had raised her daughters, requiring an abrupt shift of standards. And Scarlett couldn't see that her mother's code of femininity and kindness was perfect in its place. (I'm thinking it probably wasn't hard for Scarlett to shrug off Ellen's values in crisis time, since she'd only ever donned them as a veneer anyway.)

Meanwhile, I see Melanie, who nurtures her nephew and son, as doing vital groundwork for the next generation. Her own baby, Beau, is largely oblivious at this stage, but I'm concerned about the impact all this trauma and fear will have on Wade's psyche for the future.   

Being 'Gone with the Wind' there's always plenty of dirty racism to raise our hackles. Gerald O'Hara's butler, Pork, refers to his fellow slaves as 'trash' for deciding to leave with the Yankees, yet he's loyal to a family who treats him with abominable imperialism to the slightest detail. They save all the fresh meat from a fresh killed hog for themselves, and only throw the chitterlings (intestines) to their negroes. It fascinates me to see so many family slaves, embodied mostly by young Prissy's viewpoint, are terrified of the Yankees and believe they're coming to 'get' them. They seem to have no idea that the opposing army is fighting for their rights. What crazy times down south they must have been. 

The final chapter in this section introduces Will Benteen; a returned soldier who the family care for when he's sick. He's a 'Cracker' or small farmer far below their station, but social stigma has 'gone with the wind' at this stage, along with so much else. Margaret Mitchell has already set Will up as a legend, even though we've just been introduced to him. With his 'patient, mild eyes and wooden leg' this plain young man has become a natural sounding board for everyone's grievances. I like him a lot after his brief introduction. 

Ooh, what's just happened? The war is over and Ashley has just staggered home. And Scarlett still intends to steal him from Melanie if she possibly can! That girl still has such a one-track mind after all that's gone down. Is she going to stoop to something sneaky and malicious?

Excuse me while I get on with the next section. I'll be back when I can to discuss Chapters 31 - 47.

     

'The Lifted Veil' by George Eliot

MY THOUGHTS: 

Just when I thought the beautiful Silas Marner was George Eliot's shortest book, I stumbled upon this novella. It's possibly her briefest piece of work, but her great grip of the ins and outs of the human psyche comes out as strongly as it does in tomes like Middlemarch. And the story's hero is the only first person narrator she ever used. 

Latimer is a highly strung, sensitive young man who suffers a fit of illness while studying abroad in his late teens. During his convalescence, he discovers a strange new power that dawns on him in flashes. He occasionally glimpses the future, and also reads into several people's genuine thoughts, rather than just the public veneer they assume through their speech and facial expressions. 

To his dad, Latimer is an arty write-off, and to his patronising, sporty brother Alfred, he's a sickly kid and a bit of a joke. Alfred's beautiful fiance Bertha is the only person whose inner thoughts Latimer can't fathom. This intrigues him, especially since she sometimes seems to give off subtle clues that she prefers him over Alfred. On the surface, Bertha comes across as cynical and unimaginative, but he can't tell for sure, and considers her an 'oasis of mystery in a dreary desert of knowledge.' He also appreciates being able to ask for her opinion with 'the real interest of ignorance.' 

I'm sure different readers will be torn over whether or not they even like Latimer as a main character. Ever ready to put on the tortured artist mantle, even though he admittedly never creates anything, he's arguably as selfish as those whose true colours appall him. He's always inward focused, resentful and jealous of his brother and full of self-pity for his lot in life. And the main reason he's infatuated with Bertha is chiefly because he wonders what she thinks of him. I get all that, but I like the potential we can see in him, including his fond memories of his dead mother and his flashes of compassion for his father. It's only a very occasional first person narrator I ever thoroughly dislike. 

In addition, I can't help warming to Latimer just a little bit because he's been shoved from a young age into a mold he doesn't fit. His father finds him impractical and insists that he focus on his weaknesses, mechanics and science, at the expense of his strengths, the study of poetry and inquisitiveness about human nature. At one point, Latimer says, 'I was glad of the running water. I could watch and listen to it without wanting to know why it ran. I had perfect confidence that there were good reasons for what was so very beautiful.' And humanities students everywhere probably echo, 'Hear hear!' 

The character of Bertha strikes me as a really interesting forerunner of Rosamond Vincy in Middlemarch. They're both beautiful, shallow girls with willowy figures and gorgeous blonde hair who are solely out for themselves. Throughout this story, Bertha is likened to a witch, a spider and a snake. As Latimer gets to know her better in the normal way of longer acquaintance, it starts to dawn on him that her soul is a very narrow room, and his appeal for her is based on her belief that he's head over heels in love with her, and potential putty in her hands. When she discovers that he's numb to the sort of worldly ambition and social incentives that drive her is when it starts getting really interesting.

It's a tale that draws on nineteenth century, pseudo sciences like phrenology and resurrection of the dead, giving it a sort of Gothic atmosphere. Nothing like the nineteenth century for engrossing reads, and this one will take you only an hour or two. I wasn't crazy about it. A bit too dark for me without likable characters, because even though I tried to like Latimer, I didn't quite succeed. But it's quite interesting for George Eliot fans to say we've ticked off an obscure read. 

🌟🌟🌟

'Gone with the Wind' by Margaret Mitchell (Chapters 1 - 16)

Part One - Chapters 1 - 16

This brick was the bestselling fiction title for two consecutive years, 1936 and 1937. It also won the Pulitzer Prize and took Margaret Mitchell ten years to write. Rather than cramming a discussion of a 1010 page novel into one review, I'll break my thoughts up into quarter sections. This first ramble will cover the first 16 chapters, which also comprises Parts 1 and 2 in their entirety. 

Scarlett O'Hara starts off as a sassy teenage Southern belle with a 17 inch waist. She loves flirting with every male on her radar, and her favourite hobby is stealing the devotion of other girls' beaux. She can have the pick of any single man or boy, except for Ashley Wilkes, the dishy neighbour she's in love with. He's just announced his engagement to his sweet cousin, Melanie Hamilton, and Scarlett is devastated. Even now, she resolves not to take defeat lying down, because she's headstrong and wants the man of her dreams with all her heart. Alas, her tantrum directed at Ashley falls on deaf ears, or does it? It is overheard by a grinning, swarthy stranger named Rhett Butler, who thoroughly enjoys the show. 

In hurried retribution to several people, Scarlett marries Melanie's shy young brother Charles, just to spite everyone and shove her free agency in their faces. Unfortunately, she upsets herself most of all. Scarlett becomes a wife, war-widow and mother all before she turns 18. She and her baby, Wade Hampton Hamilton, go off to stay in Atlanta with her new in-laws, Aunt Pittypat Hamilton and Melanie, now Mrs Wilkes, while the men head off to fight the Yankees. 

Hmm, at this stage, the story focuses on Scarlett's veneer. She's learned to appear sweet, charming and good, while her headspace reveals her to be selfish, stubborn and shallow. Scarlett is basically living a lie. Everything she says and does is a screen for her real feelings. Sure, we can probably all relate to her somewhat, but I find it hard to excuse the way she uses poor Charles. 

In contrast, plain little Melanie is described as, 'simple as the earth, as good as bread, as transparent as spring water.' Melanie is clueless that she's usurping the only man Scarlett believes she can ever love. She's a great lady, according to Rhett, despite her youth. Melanie reminds me of another literary character, in her mild but determined resolve to think well of people. I realised it's Jane Bennet, from Pride & Prejudice. Melanie has no need to conceal her true self, as Scarlett does, because her generous feelings are the real deal. Sure, she never twigs that her sister-in-law really can't stand her, because feeling repugnance for people is not in Melanie's make-up so she doesn't ascribe it to others. This makes her naive but perhaps that's a small price to pay, for living her life with generous, nice thoughts rather than mercenary, restless, crabby ones. 

Ashley seems like a genuine, self-sacrificing guy at this stage. His love of music and literature gives him the reputation of being 'complex' but he's farsighted enough to predict that the war won't end well for his cause. He strikes me as a tragic guy who's torn in every way. He fights for a cause which he knows in his heart is doomed, and possibly marries one girl while loving another. I'm not convinced this is the case though. Perhaps he loves them both for very different reasons, or maybe he was just letting Scarlett down in a gentlemanly manner. Time will tell, but at the moment, I find Ashley a source of great sympathy. I'm aware that we're seeing him merely through the filter of Scarlett's rose coloured glasses and the occasional deep-and-meaningful lines he drops. 

Rhett is a self-proclaimed opportunist and scoundrel who's purely out for himself. His intention as a blockade runner (who sails contraband goods into southern ports beneath the guns of northern ships) is to make a personal fortune, or so he says. I think his appeal depends on which side of the pages you live. He offends many people within his own world, yet endears himself to a far huger number of readers who exist outside the book. Personally, I suspect we'd find him a jerk too, if we existed in the story. But instead, his blunt honesty and outspokenness impress us, because Margaret Mitchell has written him as a sexy cynic. (I believe I can see through her ploy. I've set myself a bet with Ms Mitchell, to resist the charm of Mr Butler throughout this book. It's working so far. I'll keep you posted.)

I keep getting shocked over and over as I experience the American Civil War from the Confederate viewpoint. In their passionate eyes, it's a sacred cause in which young men sacrifice their lives to preserve a precious way of life. They vehemently deny the accusation that they're merely fighting to keep the institution of slavery alive to prevent their economy from crumbling. The brutal chapter near the end of this section in which women wait in the carriages outside the newspaper office for the casualty lists, after the Battle of Gettysburg, is heart-breaking. 

Is Margaret Mitchell glorifying the nefarious Confederate cause though? I don't think so, and apparently neither do her two key male characters. The brooding, introspective Ashley says, 'Let's don't be too hot-headed and let's don't have any war. Most of the misery of the world has been caused by wars. And when the wars were over, no one ever knew what they were all about.' And the outspoken, straight-shooting Rhett says, 'Our southern way of living is as antiquated as the feudal system of the Middle Ages. The wonder is it's lasted as long as it has. It had to go and it's going now. Yet you expect me to listen to orators like Dr Meade who tell me our cause is just and holy.'  

Okay, so at this quarterly stage, we learn that Ashley has been imprisoned on Rock Island, both girls love him dearly, and Melanie has just discovered that she's expecting his baby. What next? Stay tuned for my thoughts on Chapters 17 - 30, which will take us to about the halfway point.     

'Wish me Gone' by D.J. Blackmore

Up close, the heritage listed house is nothing but a beautiful disaster, but while there are acres of orange trees to lose herself amongst, Isabella realises there’s no escaping the new school. But when intolerance towards Damaska and her family—whom Isabella’s family has hired to help—opens the homestead gates, the threat to both families becomes real. Four lives in Australia become intertwined by one orchard, as they all try to find a place they call home.

MY THOUGHTS:

It's always a pleasure to pick up a novel from my own country, and this one is as Australian as fairy cakes, charred lamb chops and Weetbix with hot milk (which all feature in the story, by the way). 

Isabella Lawson and her family are moving to a wonderful, but run-down rural property with a lush orange orchard. Her mother, Jenny, falls in love with it on the spot, but to her stepfather, Chase, it's a bit of a nightmare. Meanwhile Isabella's brother Abel, an electrical technician in the army, is learning to wrap his head around his new lifestyle. And a young Muslim woman named Damaska is migrating to Australia with her family, although her grandmother (Jida) faces change with heartache, since her beloved old ways fit her like a glove. 

Characters are so colourful and varied, it's hard to choose a favourite. It could be Chase, the stepfather who's quick with his dad jokes but will also go the extra mile for his family; or Abel, the young man who's forced in the position to cement for real the army principles he recites; or Damaska, the young woman who attracts unwanted attention, and is forced to deal with difficult generational clashes, in a strange new culture to boot. I also like Isabella, the fair-minded, capable student prepared to make the best of the hand she's dealt. But perhaps my favourite is Megan, the octogenarian whose uniquely Aussie sense of humour, combining bluntness and kindness, smooths many ruffled feathers.

I'm impressed by how boldly and effectively D.J. Blackmore tackles racism, sexism, ageism, ableism, bullying and religious discrimination head on, all within this 250 page novel. Especially considering our hair trigger 21st century cancel culture, where accusations of cultural appropriation tend to blow up before we know it. Yet this story is utterly true to life, highlighting the melting pot of different outlooks and backgrounds that form Australia. Her small rural community is a microcosm of the whole country, which is a slice of the world. 

I've got to say, this story imparts a sense of New South Wales, which I've only visited a handful of times in my life. I'm a South Aussie, and minor differences show. For some reason it also puts me in mind of the beloved old TV soapie A Country Practice, possibly because of the NSW location, although this novel is far more up-to-date. 

I don't read many contemporary novels that focus on High School students as main characters anymore, but whenever I do, I notice the addition of modern technology, which always thickens the plot. A couple of mobile phones get damaged in the course of the novel, and I suspect Jida's probably right to refer to them as the line which gives the outside world a chance to infiltrate. A shortsighted character in many ways, she's spot on there.   

What more can I say? Short chapters make for easy, flowing reading. There are 67 in the book! It's a celebration of Aussie lore which I love, but if you're not familiar with it, keep your phone close at hand to google a strange colloquialism when you need to. For my part, I love how stories like this emphasise our vibrant, fun, distinctive culture. The dialogue is a key part of the story, revealing the chasms between communication of different characters. But overall, forgiveness and generosity are a universal language.      

My thanks to the author for sending me this book for an honest review.

🌟🌟🌟🌟 ½   

'Four Thousand Weeks' by Oliver Burkeman

The average human lifespan is absurdly, insultingly brief. Assuming you live to be eighty, you have just over four thousand weeks.

Nobody needs telling there isn’t enough time. We’re obsessed with our lengthening to-do lists, our overfilled inboxes, work-life balance, and the ceaseless battle against distraction; and we’re deluged with advice on becoming more productive and efficient, and “life hacks” to optimize our days. But such techniques often end up making things worse. The sense of anxious hurry grows more intense, and still the most meaningful parts of life seem to lie just beyond the horizon. Still, we rarely make the connection between our daily struggles with time and the ultimate time management problem: the challenge of how best to use our four thousand weeks.

MY THOUGHTS:

My Dad passed away aged 84, at the start of 2017. Along with the grief of losing him I experienced an acceleration of the time crisis I've had simmering for several years. His death really brought home to me how lightning fast is the passage of years. I remembered events which took place when he was my age, which seemed scarily recent. Those sorts of memories persist to this day, and as the gap lessens the sense of urgency increases. Dad had time to retire and tick off many things he aimed to do, yet time still seems to have moved like wild fire. The title of this book by Oliver Burkeman made me wince. 4000 weeks is approximately 76 years; a rough life palette in which to get done the things we want to do. Knowing how fast one week passes, the thought of only having something between 4000 or 4500 to play around with is intended as a wake-up call. It certainly worked for me.    

The book is about changing our relationship with time and how we think about it, rather than offering 'time management hints' as such. I'll outline some of the parts that impressed me most.

Why do we procrastinate good things we really want to do? 

Frittering away our time by ticking small, pressing tasks off our list each day seems an easy default. I'll sweep floors, fold washing, or head off to the shop rather than sit for an extended time writing at my computer. Burkeman believes we must claim time for the great plans our hearts really wish to prioritise, or else they'll remain untouched by the end of the day. (I used to be quite good at what he's talking about. Taking an hour or two to work on my novels when my kids were small was part of my routine, even if there were dishes in the sink and emails awaiting replies. I knew the housekeeping stuff needed to be relegated to second place, where it belonged.) 

Another serious time sucker is outlined in a chapter called The Watermelon Problem, and specifically addresses using social media to procrastinate. The chapter's name alludes to viewers who once watched several large rubber bands being applied around a watermelon. They were hanging out to see at what stage the whole thing would burst in a spectacular shower of red watermelon flesh. The suspense was so prolonged that people started commenting, 'I really should be getting more important things done than sitting here waiting, but I'm hooked.' Eventually, the big smash was an anti-climax, as everyone knew in their hearts it would be. The great spectacle of green rind and red flesh flying everywhere released them to return to other, more important activities they were still, for some reason, strangely reluctant to do. 

Why are we seduced by checking social media and deferring our cool passion projects even when there is a block of time at our disposal? An obvious answer is that we're addicted to the affirming likes, hearts and comments that flow our way, but Burkeman suggests a deeper, more primitive reason that gels with me. It's all to do with an unconscious dread of falling short of our own romantic and passionate expectations! When we make a start on our passion projects, we may even, heaven forbid, find the time spent is mildly boring. It's all because whenever we're free to pursue the great things we want to do, we come painfully face to face with our own limitations. What we produce in reality seldom lives up to the brilliant execution of our imaginations, especially at first. So our impulses to defer the let-down by sitting on social media or carrying out jobs with lower stakes are nothing more than pitiful efforts to shield our fragile egos. 

Whoa, understanding this doesn't solve the problem itself, but does empower us to press on with our passion projects regardless. Oliver Burkeman simply says that we need to stop expecting the discomfort to be otherwise and get on with it. I guess this initial resistance is as true a fact of life as the state of flow we long for. (For my part, I earnestly want to take up fiction writing again, specifically some fan fiction inspired by great books I love. But I fear my nooby efforts to create something accurate and worth reading, let alone fathom fan fiction platforms and make a good go of it may fall short. So my challenge is to still plow on regardless, even knowing this. Knowledge is power.)   

Limit Rods in the Fire

Burkeman suggests having no more than three passion projects on the go at any one time. (I guess keeping this blog must be one of mine because occasional attempts to cut back or quit have been fruitless. But I enjoy curating my thoughts about books, so that alone is reason enough to continue. And it's another point of his. Sometimes even leisure feels like a chore to tick off, so purposely choosing a pastime or two with no personal gain whatsoever is vital.) 

Burkeman suggests that vaguely interesting, second-tier projects ought to be swept aside, because they're insufficiently important enough to form the core of our lives, yet seductive enough to suck our attention away from the things that really are. If we figure out what they are, we can sweep them aside with the finality they deserve. 

And he counsels us to Stay on the Bus, even when something else looks better. When we've decided some activity is a good use of our time, we should resist the urge to veer off toward something seemingly new or novel, which is actually a strong cultural pressure. For when we do that, we leave nothing but a few short, fruitless tracks. (This puts me in mind of Toad in The Wind in the Willows. Oliver Burkeman would surely tell us not to be as unstable and emotion driven Toad of Toad Hall, who always dumped one passion in favour of the next big thing.)

Cosmic Insignificance Therapy

Burkeman has advice for those moments when we doubt the point of whatever we're doing with our lives. Sometimes it's easy to assume our lives, over the long term, don't amount to anything much. We've surely all been there, but he suggests that we've set the bar too high. We become victims of widespread grandiosity, when in actual fact, our life choices don't matter that much, for our couple of thousand weeks on this planet aren't the lynch pin of history. When we decide our lives are meaningless, we've possibly adopted a towering standard of meaningfulness to which few can measure up (or indeed ever have). We surely don't disapprove of a chair for being unable to brew a cup of tea, after all. What a nice reminder for the end of the book.

Finally, he reminds us that whatever compelled our attention from day to day and moment to moment is what our lives will have been composed of. So when we pay attention to something we don't especially value, we're paying with our lives. 

I borrowed this book from the library and got so much out of it that I went and bought a copy of my own, so I can keep coming back and mulling over these points. I think it deserve full marks for this reason alone.  

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'An Old Fashioned Girl' by Louisa May Alcott

It was first serialised in the Merry's Museum magazine between July and August in 1869 and consisted of only six chapters. For the finished product, however, Alcott continued the story from the chapter "Six Years Afterwards" and so it ended up with nineteen chapters in all. The book revolves around Polly Milton, the old-fashioned girl who titles the story. Polly visits her wealthy friend Fanny Shaw in the city and is overwhelmed by the fashionable and urban life they live--but also left out because of her "countrified" manners and outdated clothes.

MY THOUGHTS: 

Louisa May Alcott is one of those old-time authors whose books I find generally satisfying and uplifting. 

This one is set in late nineteenth century Boston. 14-year-old Polly Milton goes for a long visit to the family of her good friend, 16-year-old Fanny Shaw. Somehow this unlikely pair have struck up a bond, even though Polly is a poor, unembellished country girl and Fanny is a wealthy, cosmopolitan young woman. But their gaping differences create uncomfortable friction when they try to get along together beneath one roof. I guess the trope is so familiar because it's a good one, and Alcott brings her own strengths to the way things pan out. These include likeable characters, transparent frankness, and a relatable way of making us take the characters' lessons on board. I was willing to roll with the whole City Mouse-Country Mouse theme as if I'd never seen it before. 

How should you react when your host suggests that your ways are backward, naive and worthy of jest? Adopting Fanny's style seems out of the question, since Polly is certain she couldn't pull it off even if she wanted to try. Yet it feels really awkward to think that her own appearance and presentation must reflect negatively on Fanny. It's a sensitive, seemingly irresolvable quandary for a young teenager to face and I was interested in Polly's unfolding choices. Fashion and finery are hard things to turn your back on and ignore when they are always in your face. 

She must also fit in with all the other members of the Shaw family, including Fanny's tiresome younger brother Tom, who is just the sort of character Louisa May Alcott loved to write, reflecting her own well-known weakness for boys. He's a rowdy, scornful, scatter-brained, restless, brash, testosterone driven, bad decision making and often annoying pain in the neck. Yet there's a certain vibrancy about Tom that appeals to Polly, and plenty of evidence that he hides a heart of gold. 

The story is basically told in two sections. First is Polly's initial visit to the Shaw family, when they are all quite young. The second part picks up six years further on, when she's back in Boston as a self-employed music tutor, trying to be independent so she can help her younger brother through college. That's when a few plots really start to thicken.

There are a couple of cheeky author intrusions which I can't go without mentioning. Firstly, Louisa May Alcott briefly writes herself into the story as a bit character, the author Kate King. ('Kate had written a successful book by accident, and happened to be the fashion just then.') We don't have to be geniuses to guess she's talking about Little Women. Kate starts discussing her personal experience. 'My children, beware of popularity; it is a delusion and a snare...' And Fanny looks at Kate and secretly wonders whether a woman could possibly earn a little money and success without such a heavy toll. For Kate looked 'sick, tired, and too early old.' Ah, poor Kate/Louisa, I guess you've earned the right to step inside one of your own novels for a moment. 

The second occasion is toward the end, when it appears all the love affairs are shaping up just as most readers hoped. Alcott can't resist a snarky comment when she writes, 'Intimidated by the threats, denunciations, and complaints showered upon me in consequence of taking the liberty to end a certain story as I liked, I now yield to the amiable desire of giving satisfaction.' Whoa, it seems she's still stewing over adverse reactions to her decision not to pair off Jo and Laurie! It's a bit of a cheap dig to vent her resentment in the pages of a totally separate novel, but I had to laugh at how she gets the last word.

Alcott is right, I can't imagine any romantics being unhappy with this book. Oh, slow down my heart, the unrequited love! Polly's ordeals gets really interesting when she rebuffs a noble, sensible catch who is every girl's desire, just because she's nursing forbidden love for intoxicating fruit who may never be hers. Alcott writes in such a way that Part Two practically drips with Polly's hidden desire, but it's never explicitly stated until a specific moment well down the track. That's seemingly out of authorial respect for Polly's privacy, but gives us readers a chance to shout, 'Yes, I knew it!' 

Perhaps my one gripe is that the story is sadly sparse on details regarding men's work. We're not told either Mr Shaw's line of business which folds, or Ned Milton's western venture, which Tom eventually buys into. But Alcott knew this would be peripheral to her target audience, who were girls like Fanny and Polly after all. Still, I would have been interested to know, and I'm surely not alone.  

Overall, life should always include books that make us sigh, 'How sweet,' or cheer, 'Hooray,' and this one does both. Louisa May Alcott, who is so often heavy handed with the preachiness of her stories, has done it again and pulled me right in. She herself may get a bit moralistic but the Shaws and Miltons themselves don't. (I personally love it when fiery Polly threatens Fanny with dire consequences if she should breathe a word to anyone about her discovery regarding who Polly is really in love with.) Poor Alcott might have written her fingers to the bone and carried the weight of the world on her shoulders, but she's done it again for me. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟½ 

The Borrowers Avenged (Book 5)

After their narrow escape from the Platters' attic in The Borrowers Aloft, Pod, Homily, and Arrietty Clock return to their miniature village. But it is no longer a safe refuge, and so once again the Borrowers must go looking for another place to live.
But finding a new home is hard when you're running for your life. The villainous Platters wil not rest until they recapture the tiny family, and they hound the Clocks' every move. When the Borrowers finally do set up house under a window seat in an old rectory, it seems they have found safety at last - until the Platters turn up in the church one night, forcing the Borrowers into a final desperate struggle for their freedom.

MY THOUGHTS:

 Oh dear, I think Mary Norton should never have recommenced this family history again. This surprise installment was first published in 1982, more than twenty years after she wrapped up The Borrowers Aloft.

The story picks up right where Borrowers Aloft concludes. Twenty-one years have lapsed in real time, but only three days in story time. Norton was quite elderly at this stage and I doubt her train of thought on this series was as finely calibrated as it had been at the end of 1961 when she last put down her pen. She might've been doing her younger self a disservice by continuing. 

For a start, we're given an actual date for the happenings, 1911. The former stories merely impart a strong Edwardian vibe which seemed to be her intent and works well. Nailing it down arguably diminishes some of the magic. Not to mention, many readers who took up Norton's invitation to resume the tale of the Clock family with their own imaginations may be disappointed.

Anyway, here's where she takes it. To recap, Pod, Homily and Arrietty arrive back at Little Fordham by homemade air balloon, are reunited with Spiller, and Pod decides it's no longer an ideal place to live. That turns out to be wise, for Sidney and Mabel Platter refuse to accept their loss and immediately decide to track down the little trio and steal them back again. The borrowers escape in Spiller's knife tray boat in the nick of time. Their new destination is a haunted rectory, and Uncle Hendreary's family is living in the church next door, for Spiller re-located them too, while Pod, Homily and Arrietty were trapped in the Platters' attic.

We're introduced to a new young Borrower who also lives in the rectory. His name is Peregrine (or Peagreen) Overmantel, and he walks with a limp due to a childhood injury. You guessed it, he's a member of that same proud and patronising Overmantel family who used to irritate, yet inspire Homily. But Peagreen himself is a pleasant and friendly young man. 

Now, the big question is whether or not Norton was attempting to set up one of those tiresome love triangles, for Peagreen is Spiller's antithesis in every way. He shuns the great outdoors, is very clean looking, loves taking baths, will chat for hours to anyone, and is very creative and classy. He's an artist with a studio in an old nesting box, writes poetry and is also working on a book about the history of the Overmantels. Peagreen limits himself to borrowing from the well-stacked rectory pantry, since his gammy leg prevents him from hunting, fishing or foraging. 

Although it's never stated directly, it seems Arrietty now has two polar opposite borrower boys appealing to the two equally compelling sides of her own character; her passion for the great outdoors and her fascination for culture and literature. But if she ever makes a choice it's not revealed in canon, since this book was the last. Some readers may think introducing a potential love triangle adds a dash of spice, but I'm no fan of this breezy newcomer supplanting our boy Spiller, who has earned his way into our hearts during the last three books. 

The next questionable addition is the ghost thread. The rectory is haunted by three apparitions, each with sad or violent backstories. Now, I have no trouble with teeny-tiny human look-alikes, but I think Norton crosses a line by introducing the supernatural. I don't think I'm alone either. Some other reviews indicate  protective parents objecting to the possibility of their kids getting frightened by the occult, which is fair enough. But my biggest gripe is that these ghosts never do anything other than waft around looking tragic and opaque! Why introduce such a startling element when it has no bearing on the plot whatsoever? 

Finally, the ending is frustrating. (Mild plot spoiler ahead.) Arrietty snaps at Spiller, accusing him of cowardice for not revealing their safety to Miss Menzies, as he'd promised. He responds with quiet fury, stalking off without a word. What's with that abrupt conclusion to such a great series? Apart from the fact that Spiller hasn't had much time to plan his approach because he's been too busy saving their lives yet again, Arrietty seriously needs to sit back and reflect on all he's ever done for them! Norton, who satisfied me at the end of The Borrowers Aloft, leaves me disgruntled and puzzled now. Perhaps she had further plans, (surely she must have!) but we'll never know. 

If ever I wanted to write my own bit of Borrower fan fiction, it's now. 

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Books with Wonderful Graveyard Scenes

Here's a great list for Halloween. Each of these stories contains an iconic incident that takes place in a graveyard. They range from the charming to the macabre, and I thought I'd count down from the loveliest to the most disturbing. I hope you enjoy my virtual trip through these cemeteries of literature.

(Warning: A few plot spoilers of old classics. Proceed at your own risk.)

We'll warm up with some sweet, sentimental examples. These aren't at all scary, but designed to melt our hearts.

Anne of the Island by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Our heroine fulfills a bittersweet dream when she visits Bolingbroke Cemetery, where her parents lie. Walter and Bertha Shirley died while Anne was still an infant, and were buried together in a single grave. Although they were practically destitute, the local school board erected a tombstone to honor him for his faithful service. Now twenty years later, their orphan daughter pays a visit to lie flowers on their grave, in a touching moment of the story. (My review is here.)

Harry Potter (Saint Jerome's Graveyard, Godric Hollow) by J.K. Rowling

This is the burial place of several illustrious witches and wizards. Harry and Hermione pay a visit one snowy Christmas Eve to seek the grave of his parents, and discover that the Dumbledore family and the Peverell brothers of Deathly Hallows fame also lie buried there. Harry weeps tears of emotion, while Hermione considerately conjures a bouquet to place on James and Lily's grave. And on another occasion, two more teenagers pass by, in a visit from the future. (Time gets very twisted here.) Scorpius Malfoy points it out to his best friend Albus Potter and tells him that in their own time, a memorial statue of baby Harry and his parents has been erected. (Here is my review.)

The Professor by Charlotte Brontē

The Protestant Cemetery outside the gates of Louvain is the scene of a happy reunion in this romance by Charlotte Bronte. William Crimsworth is a young English professor whose beloved girlfriend Frances has been banished by the jealous headmistress. He has no idea how to find her. William is taking a leisurely stroll among the tombstones one fine day when he spots Frances paying a visit to the fresh grave of her aunt. It's such a fantastic coincidence, since he'd resigned himself to never seeing her again. (Here is my review.)

Now the chilling factor starts to rev up a bit. Several of these involve wide-eyed little orphans or earnest young men.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

The cemetery is home sweet home for our young hero orphan. A baby boy toddles away from the scene of his family's gruesome murder. Now he's being brought up in the graveyard down the hill by Mr and Mrs Owens, a kindly couple of ghosts who live there. This story takes the typical changeling plot to a whole new level. Young Bod (short for Nobody) has many crazy adventures in both the natural and supernatural realms. But he's restricted to the safety of his graveyard home.

Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

It's in the local graveyard where the poor little orphan Pip first meets the desperate fugitive Magwitch, who snatches hold of him right beside his parents' tombstone and demands food and a file. Or else Pip's heart and liver will be eaten alive by a fierce young man. Remember Magwitch's obvious relief when he asks Pip where his parents are, and Pip points down at the grave? I don't blame Pip for being quick to comply with the convict's demand, but he has no idea of the ripple effect he sets into motion, which impacts his life long after he's grown up. (My review is here.)


The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins

Walter Hartwright is anxious to talk to a deranged young woman who's been sending dire warnings to the girl he loves. He has good reason to believe that Anne Catherick, the woman in white, likes to spend her nights in the cemetery, near a specific grave. He sets up camp to wait for her, and sure enough, Anne shows up loaded with scrubbing gear. Her personal mission is to make sure her benefactress Mrs Fairlie's grave is always the sparkliest and cleanest in the graveyard. It's her devoted way of paying her respects.

That incident already sets the atmosphere, but way later on, a grieving Walter visits the grave of his beloved Laura, to find Laura herself creeping up behind him, alive and well. I'll bet he had goosebumps on his goosebumps! Can't you just imagine him looking down at the grave, then up to her face, then down to the tombstone again? (My review is here.)

Hamlet by William Shakespeare

Graveyards certainly aren't always the quiet places they seem. While a pair of gravediggers are preparing poor drowned Ophelia's grave, they unearth the skull of Yorick, an old jester from Hamlet's childhood. It inspires the young hero to start one of his long, philosophical rants about the nature of mortality, and we know it doesn't take much to set him off. While he's in full flow, Ophelia's brother Laertes arrives with her funeral procession. He sees red at the sight of Hamlet, who he blames for her suicide, and the two young men start a brawl right beside the newly dug grave.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

In a dramatic moment, poor Victor Frankenstein, the hapless young creator, visits the cemetery where all his loved ones lie. Little brother William, playfellow Justine, best friend Henry, beloved Dad and sweetheart Elizabeth. The one thing they share in common is that they've all been murdered by the monster Victor created with his own hands. He kneels among the tombs and vows to bring that fiend down, if it's the last thing he ever does. A diabolical burst of laughter from somewhere nearby greets his outburst, as if to say, 'OK, game on!' (Review is here.)

The Bishop's Girl by Rebecca Burns

This story's melancholy premise revolves around a graveyard in France. Bishop Anthony Shackleton died a hero's death there in 1917, and decades later his admirers are exhuming the grave to take his remains home to England. To their shock, another crudely wrapped skeleton, which proves to be a young woman, has been buried with him. All they can figure out is that she shares his DNA. Her identity becomes the business of Professor Waller and his archivist Jess Morris. (My review is here.)

Now I'll present my hardcore examples for most spine-tingling, hair-raising or outright weird. These are contenders for the winner.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontē

Could the Gimmerton graveyard, out on the bleak Yorkshire moor be the creepiest of all? Halfway through the story, Heathcliff, who's sick with love for Catherine, bribes the sexton to force open her coffin so he can stare at her face. He says it's still recognisable after twenty odd years. It seems that in their icy climate, she's frozen solid for a great part of every year. Heathcliff gives orders that he must be buried beside Catherine with the sides of their two coffins removed so they can disintegrate into dust together. Or else he'll prove that the human soul is not annihilated at death. He appears to prove it anyway, even though they carry out his wishes. Several traumatised villagers report sightings of Heathcliff and Catherine together above ground, doing whatever they used to when they were wild kids who imagined heaven wasn't good enough for them. It would surely be enough to terrify me, since they were both plenty scary enough alive! (My review is here.)

For over a century, I'd say Emily Bronte held the title of the author who gave us the creepiest graveyard incident. But then in the early 21st century, J.K. Rowling popped up to dispute that.

Harry Potter (Little Hangleton Graveyard) by J.K. Rowling

When Harry and Cedric both seize the tournament cup to tie for first place, it turns out to be a portkey drawing them to the Little Hangleton graveyard, where Voldemort gleefully awaits. After disposing of the 'spare' (poor Cedric) he orders Harry to be tied up and arranges a horrific potion which includes blood from his enemy Harry, a bone from his own father who's buried in a nearby grave, and the hand of his willing follower Peter Pettigrew. It's enough for the unthinkable to happen. A reasonably able body for Voldemort is produced. Harry's desperate escape back to Hogwarts involves a mad chase around the tombstones and a staggering collision of spells.

Wuthering Heights or The Goblet of Fire? The struggle was real. And because I couldn't choose between them, I decided to throw in a dark horse. My award for most unexpectedly disturbing graveyard incident comes from a reasonably wholesome coming-of-age classic, and wins for its sheer left-fieldedness and originality.


A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith

Somewhere in the block of tenement flats lives a person whose favourite game really freaks young Francie Nolan out. It's 'the boy who plays graveyard.' He puts live caterpillars into matchboxes, digs tiny graves and buries them. Next he makes little headstones by writing on pebbles. Then he holds mock funerals in which he beats his breast and sobs. Needless to say, this seriously disturbs her silent reading time. When he's taken to visit his aunt one day, Francie considers his absence as good as a holiday. I thought I'd give that lad top honour in this blog post, since nobody else probably ever did, although I'd like to think somebody rescued those poor caterpillars and gave them their chance to become butterflies! (My review is here.)

Did any of your favourites make it on my list? There must be plenty of gaps, especially since I overlook the whole horror genre, which isn't a favourite of mine so I don't know many. Please feel free to add more in the comments, or take my list as a morbid (or bittersweet) springboard for your own Halloween reading.

You might also enjoy my 

wisdom from the graveyard school, who were a truly awesome group of men who pieced together a great philosophy just from hanging out in cemeteries writing poetry.

 

'The Silver Chalice' by Thomas B Costain

The colorful, passionate world of early Christianity comes to vivid life in this story of Basil of Antioch. Basil, a sensitive artisan, is purchased from slavery and commissioned to create a decorative casing for the Chalice that Jesus used at the Last Supper. Basil travels to Jerusalem, Greece, and Rome, meets the apostles, braves the perils of persecution, and finally makes a fateful choice that allows him to “see” Jesus. The dramatic plot, compelling characters, and spiritual depth of The Silver Chalice made it one of the most popular historical novels of the twentieth century.

MY THOUGHTS:

First, I want to describe how this book came into my hands. I was browsing at a secondhand shop, skimmed its blurb and thought, 'Hmm, this looks like one of those Biblical epics. Meh, well, why not?' It joined my stash of old books to be looked at down the track, some of which never see the light of day for ages. A few weeks later, I stumbled across a list of the bestselling books for each year from the 1930s to the early 2020s. And this was on it! It's America's bestselling fiction title of 1952, and Australia probably followed suit. Since I'm keen to tick some off, this serendipitous discovery seemed a perfect starting place. I went in with no expectations.

And it blew me away! 

So we're plunged instantly into New Testament times. Some of the events that take place in the Bible's Book of Acts are happening offstage simultaneously. Our hero is a talented young artisan named Basil, who was adopted by a wealthy businessman to be his son and heir. But Basil is majorly screwed over by his wicked step-uncle, who sells him as a slave to an exploitative silversmith. From there, he's purchased by Luke the Physician (yep, that Luke) who brings him to meet Joseph of Arimathea. The elderly church heroes have a daunting commission for our boy. They possess the modest cup used by Jesus and his apostles in the Upper Room at the Last Supper, and want a special silver chalice created to hold it, which must feature the faces of Jesus's most beloved followers. They've chosen Basil, who is about 19 years old at this stage, to be the artist.

His task involves travelling to key places where each model happens to live, often in exile, to record their likenesses so he can start his job. Needless to say, this takes far more than a snap from a phone camera, or a sketch on a drawing pad. Basil must form accurate little wax models, sometimes surreptitiously, for his records. And the scope of the action includes Antioch, his starting point, Jerusalem, Ephesus and Rome. It's extremely perilous, since several passionate groups want to stamp out his effort, including High Jewish officials, Zealots and the Roman conquerors.  

I loved Basil. He's exactly the sort of protagonist it's fun to stand behind and barrack for. Essentially, he's just a kid with an amazing talent that proves to be a mixed blessing, turning him into something of a puppet. Basil's social status and time period make it easy for several different people to control his destiny, each with their own agendas in mind. Basil is in no position to do anything about it. When people who pull strings say, 'Jump,' he has to say, 'How high?' rather than, 'Get lost!' as he'd often prefer. The cycle starts when he's only ten years old, and Ignatius the wealthy olive oil magnate arranges with Basil's biological father, Theron, to adopt him. The boy himself gets no say in the matter. But one of my favourite examples occurs when Basil is summoned before the Emperor, Nero. 'Caesar does not invite. He commands!'  

There is a fantastic cast of supporting characters. I love the role Luke the gospel writer plays in this story. Paul comes across as bold and bossy as he probably was; the encounter with John was arduous but mind-blowing, and I won't reveal too much about Peter. 

The sneaky villain, Simon the Sorcerer plays a huge role, as he attempts to undermine the miracles of Jesus with his chicanery, and the public lap it up. And Basil's intriguing love triangle adds a dash of romance. Two young women are crazy about the young artist. Will his heart swing toward Deborra, the granddaughter of Joseph, or Helena, a former cheeky slave of his stepfather's?  

One of the questions driving the plot concerns Basil's ultimate success. He worries that if his ability to make the chalice will depend on the purity of his own state of mind, it's doomed, for lots has happened to make him bitter and vengeful in his short life. I love it that Bible stories are always drawn from by characters as real and living historical precedents to aid decision making, which is so refreshing in our era, when many people sweep them aside as legends or fairy tales. 

Overall, I'm impressed that in the mid-twentieth century, a Christian fiction (for what else could you call this?) could make it as the bestselling book on secular charts. Times have certainly changed. And the bestselling non-fiction for the same year was probably unsurprisingly, The Revised Standard edition of the Bible. And now I'm definitely interested to find out more about Costain's other historical fiction. Although he had a huge following in his heyday, this is the first time I'd ever heard of him. 

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Trixie Belden series - My prophecies for the Bob Whites

Having finished my re-read of all the Trixie Belden mysteries as a middle-aged mum, I can state with total honesty that I loved them all as much as I did when I was a young teenager, and perhaps even more. Swooping down on hilarious continuity inconsistencies I overlooked the first time round, like a seagull on hot chips, may have even enhanced the experience. This certainly includes the shocking time compression. The characters themselves remain stable and lovable, which makes me inclined to give them all a decent send-off. Having just invested so much time in them, the Bob Whites deserve the courtesy of my prophecies for their futures. 

Here is some of what I see in store for them. I'm taking care to base my predictions on the personality leads I get from the books, and not simply wishful thinking. See what you think.  

 Trixie and Jim

The undercurrents of romance between this pair have always been strong and thrilling (sigh). They've impressed many readers' hearts, but the big question is whether we can feasibly imagine them together for the long term.

My feeling is maybe... with reservations. If these two do end up together it must surely follow a rocky road to get them there. Both can be quick-tempered and stubborn when they get their minds set in a single direction. Friction frequently flares between them within the series itself, such as when Jim determines to fulfill his promise to tutor Trixie in Mystery in Arizona and she chafes under his surveillance. 

Another stumbling block may be an eventual clash between their great and noble ambitions. She wants to be the founder of a detective agency and he wants to establish his own private school for underprivileged boys. Since both passion projects will demand maximum time, toil, sweat, tears and dedication, I can't help wondering what will be left over for each other. It would have to be a true juggling act for two Type-A personalities to inject a full day with a few extra hours for couple time. 

The ultimate question is whether or not two such passionate, 'boss' people whose major goals are so divergent can hope for any type of future together. Hey, I know it's Trixie and Jim, our sentimental favourites, but there are only 24 hours in a day. At the very least, they face heaps of domestic inconveniences and may even have to put off starting a family of their own. After all, Jim's adoptive Dad, Matthew Wheeler, has had to sacrifice plenty of family togetherness for the sake of his intense lifestyle, and I doubt Jim wants to follow in Matt's footsteps in that respect.

Let's be realistic - You can have anything but you can't have everything. (I love to think they can make it happen, but it'll be hard work.)

Honey and Brian

What do you think? Neither of them are flamboyant personalities so their attraction has been presented in a gentle and low-key manner. Honey is definitely compassionate enough to make a great doctor's wife, but Brian will be on-call to patients at all times, for I imagine him as a super-duper specialist of some sort, maybe even a pediatrician. Hasn't she put up with enough fobbing off from family members in her childhood due to work pressures, without setting herself up for more in marriage? But on the other hand, she's used to it, and loves feeling appreciated.

Is their attraction really solid though, or just a thing of tradition? I can't forget that in the final book of the series, Honey has her head totally turned by another guy. And Brian does have a habit of treating her like another kid sister. This relationship might work, but equally feasibly, it might not. 

Personally, I quite like the idea of Honey Wheeler striking out for independence, realising that in her good nature, she's let her path be mapped out by overbearing Beldens. She does have her limits, and I always get the feeling that the Belden-Wheeler Detective Agency is more Trixie's brainchild than Honey's. She tends to let herself get pulled along for the ride out of fondness and gratitude. How about if she realises she'd prefer a different career (gasp!) and another guy (whoa!)

As for Brian, there may come a time when the burden of carrying his great ambition along with the onus of being the sensible, got-it-all-together eldest sibling may make him snap. His frailty has already been hinted at in The Hudson River Mystery. If our boy ever needs to be at the receiving end of care and advice as well as the giving end, it may need to come from an entirely outside source. (I quite liked his relationship with the studious Loyola Kevins, despite her unfortunate Waldorf salad, yet I think that was purely platonic.)

Bottom line is Honey and Brian together could definitely work, but I feel Honey and Brian apart offers lots of potentially interesting possibilities which I might jump on, if I was to speculate. However, they might have to end up coming back together in the long run. 

Mart and Diana

Whoa, on the surface it's admittedly easy to sweep this relationship aside as a flash in the pan, or a brief High School attraction. You may ask, 'Do these two really have anything in common?' She's a beautiful under-achiever who prioritises her physical appearance, claims to be allergic to books and prefers words of very few syllables. And he's the ultimate smarty-pants and trivia buff who thrives on research, loves reading and has a vocabulary the size of Mount Everest which he's never afraid to use. Wouldn't they drive each other insane if they lived together?

These are all valid points, yet somehow it never works when I try to imagine either of them with anyone else. I can never shake off the idea that these two really are perfect for each other, and arguably have more in common than it may at first appear. For starters, they are both highly creative, both grapple with their own forms of deep insecurity, and there's always a strong thread of chemistry woven through the series that never loses its pull. These two are forever shooting surreptitious glances at each other for support and understanding. And they really do lift each other up in an opposites attract sort of way. Therefore, they are not really so different at all. 

I can imagine them working together on a collaborated book, with Mart writing the scintillating story and Di doing the wonderful artwork. 

I picture Mart as quite the traditionalist, maybe more so than his brother Brian, and Di as a happy and fulfilled homemaker. I can imagine them married with a set of twins; a boy and a girl. Twins run in Diana's family, and Mart has always hated being mistaken for Trixie's twin, so why not give him a real pigeon pair of his own for poetic justice? They could be called Cosmo and Lucy, if it's not too heavy-handed. Haha, no, how about Kathryn and Kenny? (Okay, my apologies if you're groaning.)  

Dan Mangan

What's in store for our intense, dark-eyed, dark-haired Irish lad with his regrettable past? Canon has indicated an attraction to Cousin Hallie Belden, yet in true form, he wasn't able to make it to reunite with her in The Sasquatch Mystery, along with the other Bob Whites. If she wants him, she'll have to come and get him, for he never has a spare moment away from work to set foot out of New York State. 

To be honest, I like the thought of threshing around more in Dan's family background and his relationship with Regan. As uncle and nephew, they are clearly committed to each other, yet keep each other at arm's length, as Mystery in Saratoga indicates. There's a black hole that was never explored and I would've appreciated a bit more digging around in it.

This is just my idea, but what if there were dark feelings in the past directed from a very young Bill Regan toward his sister's husband, Tim Mangan, who got a mention in The Black Jacket Mystery. This is obviously something poor Dan has no idea about, and when it comes to light, it hits him out of the blue. Oh, I'd have a field day were I ever to attempt some series fan fiction. It's all about mysteries and what a real life mystery that would be. The Secret of the Regan/Mangan backgrounds. 

Oh course Dan needs some romance too, but I haven't figured out with who. I do have a few ideas.

Bobby Belden

He was always too little to be a true Bob White during the unbelievably short period of time the series claims to cover, but I think he deserves to be included here too. 

Could trouble, romance or a mixture of both be on the cards for the youngest Belden sibling? You bet!

I imagine this imp leading his family a merry dance when he reaches his teenage years. They'll long for those tedious but predictable days when he used to command his sister and brothers to read him 'Peter Rabbit' a hundred times a sitting. In turn, it's not easy being the youngest, and I have a hunch Bobby's rebellion may break out in unique and unexpected ways. 

I imagine him growing up to be a devastatingly cute guy, a bit like Mart but without Mart's solid sense of responsibility or sound work ethic. And unlike his look-alike brother, Bobby will always be willing to let those blonde curls grow wild and free. Perhaps I can even picture an awkward sort of romantic triangle involving him and the two female Lynch twins. And I can also envisage him meeting up again with Gaye Hunya, the melancholic little piano virtuoso from The Marshland Mystery. Make it a sort of lovers' square, with three girls taking vested interest in Bobby Belden. Heck, yeah. 

Yeah, a teenage Bobby Belden. Watch out world. 

Over to you

Okay, that's how I imagine their futures playing out. As far as the three couples are concerned, I foresee a strong 'maybe'; a tentative 'no' and a definite 'yes'! And those dark horses in the form of Dan and Bobby add to the mix to keep us guessing. Isn't there more than enough reason for us to think that even though we've finished the 39-book series, there is enough to keep our collective imaginations ticking for the long term.

But it's goodbye for now.

Bye, Peter and Helen, Brian, Mart, Trixie and Bobby. I'd love to be a guest at Crabapple Farm any day you care to invite me.

Farewell, Matt and Madeleine, Jim and Honey. And a fond goodbye to your faithful and contented staff, Miss Trask, Regan, Tom and Celia. Keep up the good work, folk.

I guess Jupiter, Starlight, Strawberry, Lady and Susie deserve a neigh too. And their friends, Sunny and Spartan. Keep dancing, Spartan.

Cheerio all you Lynches, I know your opulence doesn't always sit well with you, but enjoy it as much as you can. Diana, I hope you can marry your loving, supportive, bookworm farmer boy and escape the tedium of wealth ASAP.

See you Dan, I hope life will reward you for your hard work. 

And bye for now to the other residents of Sleepyside we've come to know so well. Mrs Vanderpoel, keep up the windmill cookies, and likewise Mr Maypenny with the succulent hunter's stews. Good riddance Mr Lytell, you old grouch. And Sergeant Molinson, you might want to seriously consider taking a young female partner on board. 

Bye! I'll visit Sleepyside again soon. 

     

Trixie Belden Series 37 to the Finish

37) The Pet Show Mystery

During a particularly icy winter, the Bob Whites decide to hold a pet show to raise money for the district's starving game birds. They wonder if they're courting trouble, by working with unpredictable animals. However, the pets turn out to be fine. It's other people who prove to be unreasonable and volatile. The Bob Whites' charitable venture gives folk with grudges of all sorts platforms to vent. And what's more, somebody is trying to sabotage the pet show. There is even an ugly rumor circulating that the birds are a ruse, and the Bob Whites plan to spend the proceeds on themselves. If they don't get to the bottom of it, the event will crash and burn. Who is behind the malicious behaviour, and why? 

* The story starts with Trixie complaining that it's such a bitterly cold and freezing winter, she's stumped for things to do. The snowstorms and freezes never seem to end. Yet just three books ago (in The Missing Millionaire) it was such a sweltering summer, the Bob Whites hardly knew what to do with themselves then either. I'm convinced that at this late stage in the series, the Kathryn Kenny authors were just plonking the Bob Whites into any old season that took their fancy. (Incidentally, it was Laura French who wrote both those books.)

* I'm with Trixie; enlisting the help of hunting associations to help feed the hungry birds seems weird. She says, 'You mean we ask hunters to help save the birds this winter so they can kill them next fall?' Brian immediately rebukes her for being narrow-minded, and Jim and Dan agree with him. Hmmm, right, whatever you say, guys. 

* All through the story, the supporting vet on board with the Bob Whites' plans is Dr Chang. I wonder whatever happened to Dr David Samet from The Mystery of the Velvet Gown. He was the lovely chap who treated Reddy when he broke his leg dashing in front of a car. Dr Samet was also the uncle of Jane Morgan, who was so envious that Di scored the role of Juliet in the school play. He doesn't get a passing mention in this book. That leaves us to form our own conclusions. Perhaps he retired or left Sleepyside to set up somewhere else, and Dr Chang took over his practice. 

* During the signing up phase, Trixie makes fun of some outlandish pet names that come to light. She thinks the names of the Bob Whites' dogs make perfect, logical sense. 'Reddy is an Irish Setter, so he's red. Patch has brown and white patches. What else would you call them?' I'm sure some of the other pet owners may consider her approach unimaginative and mundane, but it's all in how you look at it. 

* This story finally brings us into the era of technology, but it's very rudimentary! Mart is taking a computer class that sounds reminiscent of my Year 10 class in 1985, and sure enough, that's exactly when this book was published. He's overjoyed about learning to use an electronic spreadsheet. And Trixie accuses him of coming home sounding like a floppy disc. Anyway, Mart is confident and exuberant enough to kill two birds with one stone. (Figuratively speaking, since this story is all about saving birds and not killing them.) His major class assignment for Computers will be his work on the Pet Show. He plans to enter each pet's data into his program and voila, each animal will get sorted into its own winning category. If there are 100 entrants, he'll have 100 categories. 

* Mart has hassles with Gordon Halvorson, Sleepyside High School's first ever computer geek. Gordon keeps offering to help, but his approach is smothering, breathing down Mart's neck in such a controlling manner than Mart doubts he'll ever learn anything at all off his own bat.   

* The school secretary, Miss Von Trammel, resents Dr Chang with a passion and calls him a quack. Honey wonders whether it's because he's oriental. Gee whiz, that's a bit of a racist suspicion, Miss Wheeler. My immediate thought was that von Trammel must have had a bad experience while Chang was treating a pet of hers. 

* Paul Gale, an angry young man from the World Hunger Foundation, mocks the Bob Whites for supposedly wanting to save starving birds over humans. He doesn't reflect that the ecological balance of the world is vitally important, and all living creatures are part of one web. He sneers, 'Let's not worry about all the people in the world who are starving. They aren't cute. They don't sing pretty for the people here in Sleepyside.' Yeah, this guy is a master of sarcasm. And as Brian says, 'His worthy cause doesn't make ours any less worthy.' 

* For once, I'm right on Bobby's wavelength. The Bob Whites are reluctant to let him enter Reddy into the Pet Show, lest others accuse them of favouritism if he wins anything. Yet since Mart plans to build his computer program so that every pet wins a category anyway, nobody's nose should be knocked out of joint. I'm glad they all come to see this too. 

* The theme of Reddy disappearing is used yet again. Honey says, 'It's not like Reddy to run away.' Is she kidding or what? How about when he runs amok in The Red Trailer Mystery? Or vanishes in the thick of an intense blizzard in The Mysterious Code? Or when he and Patch appear to have killed a deer deep in the game preserve in Mystery off Glen Road? Or when he loses himself in a strange barn in The Headless Horseman? Or when he trails the thief with the stolen Wimpy's patties in The Midnight Marauder? That dog is a total will-o'-the-wisp.

* The motif of other students disliking the Bob Whites for their supposed smugness and cliquiness rears its ugly head again too. Norma Nelson resents the fact that they've surpassed her modest bird feeding efforts with something so much more grandiose, as if to rub her nose in it. And Gordon Halvorson feels indignant that Mart rejects his overbearing efforts to help him with his project. (Gordon and Norma can now join Tad, Ben, Nick, Jane, and any other students who have ever felt the same. As Mart says of Gordon, 'He's really convinced that we're a conceited little in-group.') 

* Hmm, I think the crook spills all his beans a bit too readily, but I guess at that stage, he still thinks he may get away with it all. 

* Now how about the quote of the book? Runner up is Gordon's pointed, 'I just thought one of the Beldens could let someone else be good at something for a change.' But to welcome the Bob Whites to the cusp of the computer age, I thought I'd go with this exchange. Trixie: I thought computerizing the categories was going to be a big labor saver. Mart: It was. Unfortunately the labor that was saved was yours. The labor that was expended was exclusively my own.

38) The Indian Burial Ground Mystery

The Bob Whites are delighted to be offered the chance to help an archaeological dig in a section of the Wheelers' game preserve. It's headed by Professor Victor Conroy who's certain the area is dense with old Indian relics. It soon becomes apparent that foul business from more recent years may be afoot. Are mysterious treasure seekers the same as the ruthless robbers who are targeting local mansions? And is the dig site really haunted by indignant ghosts of old tribal folk who resent their old stamping ground being tinkered with? 

* Trixie is crazy about the opportunity given to High School kids to assist the archaeology college students at the dig. She's so super-excited about getting down and dirty that her mother reminds her not to forget her longstanding commitment to the hospital as a candy striper. Spending part of the school holidays perspiring over shovels, picks and spades searching for something elusive that may or may not even be there doesn't sound like my idea of great fun. But a surprising number of Sleepyside High students volunteer, so the call of the long ago past must be strong.

* Trixie justifies her enthusiasm by reasoning that archaeology is like fascinating detective work, because sometimes the tiniest clue may solve a huge mystery. She goes so far as to say that she'd almost rather be an archaeologist than a detective, because mysteries of the ancient past have their own specific brand of mystique. Yeah, I can buy that.

* Trixie is impressed when Professor Conroy explains that archaeology is really the study of garbage. Lots of what comes to light is essentially gleaned from ancient rubbish tips. In other words, stinky refuge gains romanticism after enough time has passed. (It reminds me of the T-shirt my nephew, an archaeology student, was given to wear on his faculty pub crawl. 'Archaeologists! We'll date anything.')   

* Diana must be doing well with her art, because her skills are getting some recognition. She's assigned to be on the sketching team at the dig because she's now so good at drawing. Go Di! 

* Bobby attempts to play on his age to dodge responsibility. He says, 'Nobody would arrest a six-year-old for not wearing a seat belt, and I think it's dumb. So there!' That's what you think, you cheeky little punk. However, at this late stage of the series, Bobby seems to have remained six years old for a few years, so he's had plenty of time to perfect his lines. 

* Trixie gives Mart a Bronx cheer, and I had to Google what that means, since I've never heard the term before. Haha, I should have guessed, considering the circumstances. In my corner of the globe, we call it blowing someone a raspberry.

* Trixie is back to her old habit of forming an instant grudge against someone without much apparent cause, just because she doesn't like them on first sight. In this case it's Charles Miller, Dr Conroy's 20-year-old assistant. Charles can join others such as Ben, Neil, Slim, Max, Eric, and their very own Dan Mangan, who have formerly been on the top of Trixie's hit list. Funny how it mostly seems to be young men, although she does make the occasional exception, as with Jane Dix-Strauss. In this case though, I think the fact that Charles is pleasant when he's talking to Brian but prickly when he's talking to her might have something to do with it.  

* For the first time on record, sensible Brian chooses to distance himself from his sister's suspicions, when he thinks they've crossed a line and got too ridiculous. He doesn't care what the other Bob Whites think, he finds Charles Miller a friendly, above-board type of guy, and refuses to waste his time suspecting him of anything underhanded. Hmm, she has led them all on plenty of wild goose chases before.

* As we've no doubt all suspected, Mart seems to benefit from a young male fast metabolism. Trixie says, 'How can he eat all the time and still look like a bag of bones?' And Mart himself refers to the Five Food Groups as, 'fast food, sweet food, carbonated food, pizza and hamburgers.' It might catch up with him one day.  

* This book contains an inaccuracy which I just can't turn a blind eye to. It tells us that Mrs Wheeler's horse, Lady, is supposedly Trixie's favourite, because of the cheeky way she adorably blows herself up when being saddled. No, no, no, no, no, it's always been Susie who Trixie's heart melts for. Even though Susie is technically said to be Miss Trask's horse, Trixie has always considered her to be her own sentimental favourite. It's just so wrong when Trixie trots off on Lady and Honey on Susie, instead of vice versa. 

* Oh, and by the way, Reddy goes missing yet again. Just saying. 

* I'll give quote of the book to Charles Miller. 'You have a way of closing in on someone even if he's innocent.'  

That's it, folks. We've come to the end of the line. There is a 39th Book named The Mystery of the Galloping Ghost, but sadly, it's long out of print, I don't own it, and can't get my hands on one. It was a short run at the outset, existing copies are being sold online for triple figures, and I've read advice from fellow fans not to pay it. They seem to unanimously agree that although it's a good story (hey, it's Trixie Belden after all!) it's not the greatest in the series. Here are a few facts I did acquire through snooping around.

* The only Bob Whites who appear in the story are Trixie and Honey. They are on some sort of horse-purchasing excursion with Regan. No Di nor a single one of the boys.

* Honey falls head-over-heels for someone who isn't Brian!!

* Those two facts alone cheer me up for being unable to acquire a copy. 

BUT: Please stick around for next week. This has been the marathon read of the year, and I intend a big, wrap-up post with my formal farewells to each of the recurring characters and my prophecies for the futures of each of the Bob Whites.  

Catch up here on Series 34 to 36 and then work your way backwards.