Treasures of the Snow (and other winter reads)

'Treasures of the Snow' by Patricia St. John

What a wonderful old Christian classic set in Switzerland.

Its sentimental title and heavy-handed themes may strike some readers as a bit dated, but I was riveted by the solid substance of the plot and passionate rawness of the two main characters, who are both about 12 or 13 years old. 

Lucien Morel attempts to tease little Dani, the kid brother of his neighbour and nemesis Annette Burnier, but things turn horribly pear-shaped. (Conflict on the edge of a precipice rarely ends well!) Dani's shattered leg may leave him permanently lame, and Annette vows to get even with Lucien in any way she possibly can. Meanwhile, poor Lucien deals with the pain of becoming the village pariah for a consequence that was completely accidental. 

When Lucien discovers a special talent that may help atone for his bad reputation, Annette's hatred has even more scope than before to wreak havoc on his life. What will it take for her to shake off her bitterness and forgive him? And for that matter, will he be able to forgive her? The soul searching of these two makes an excellent read, although I admit to loving bad boy Lucien a little more than good girl Annette. The dramatic climax draws largely on the terrific Alpine setting.

Young Dani is a very cool character too. Even though he was the scapegoat of their friction, his native cheerfulness is a gift that neither Annette nor Lucien possess. I think it makes him the most emotionally resilient of all. Dani is pretty spoiled, but it's a side benefit of his automatic way of winning hearts. This boy is never preoccupied enough to miss the satisfaction derived from simple things. That's the handiest gift of all, and he's a natural at it.

Apparently there's a more politically correct and dumbed-down version of this classic floating around, ghost written by a lady named Mary Mills. I only found this out after reading a few other reviews of the book. It's said to be hard to identify, since Patricia St. John's name is still the only one on the front cover. That's always been one of my bugbears, but fortunately my secondhand copy is the original. (If the intact descriptions of the scenery weren't a big enough tip-off, the fact the Madame Morel often insults her son, calling him 'stupid' would leave me in no doubt. No modern knock-off would ever leave that in.) 

I wish this story had been on my radar while I was homeschooling my kids. I recommend it especially to families who still are. Apart from loving the characters, it evokes the mountain lifestyle, including their soup, rustic bread and 'cheese with holes in it.' (I guess it stands to reason that living in Switzerland, they wouldn't necessarily think of it as Swiss cheese, but simply as 'cheese.') 

Just watch out for that modern re-write which every reader I've come across seems to be unanimous in considering more sanitised and soulless than the original. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟  

'Something About Alaska' by J. A. Cooper

I looked forward to this one. J. A. Cooper is the director of the Writing and Communication Masters course I'm doing at Tabor College, and therefore one of my teachers. This YA novel is his debut novel. I started it during my summer holidays when it was scorching hot in Adelaide and decided to save it until the winter break. I'm becoming more of a seasonal reader. It seems to enhance the atmosphere when we do our best to match seasons, although admittedly South Australia is nowhere near as cold as Alaska. (Not even close!)

Zac Greene goes to spend Christmas with his estranged dad in Alaska. The intervening years have become an issue though. There's a wedge of awkwardness now he's 14 that wasn't there when he was 10. And Dad seems grouchy and misogynistic from the get-go. Was he always such a know-it-all with a huge chip on his shoulder? It's shaping up to be one of Zac's worst Christmases. 

I'll tread carefully from here, so as not to give away too much. Suffice to say Zac's reactive decision to get away involves an encounter with a charismatic local named Stanley, who reveals some of the genuine survival skills necessary for Alaska, which is said to be a magnet for 'wackos' who dare to hope they may tame the elements. 

I was behind Zac all the way, having come across guys like his father, Jim, who create chaos despite their best intentions. Yet I wondered whether another type of reader may consider Zac's behaviour too reckless and hasty? In other words, could there be scope for dissension in reading groups? Would we all equally enjoy where the story takes us? With that question in mind, I believe the ending seems inevitable and may elicit nods from the majority of readers that it had to be that way. I would love to see what other readers have to say though. 

The descriptions of the fierce, icy setting of Alaska are beautifully crafted and evocative. I paused several times to re-read sentences and take it all in. We are invited to reflect whether Alaska is a cauldron that refines seekers rather than the haven they expect.

Overall, it's a great winter read with a beautiful cover. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

'Hans Brinker, or The Silver Skates' by Mary Mapes Dodge

Next we shift to Holland.

This lady was the powerhouse who gave many other turn-of-the-century authors their lucky breaks. Mary Mapes Dodge was regarded as a leader in juvenile fiction throughout the 19th century. As senior editor of the popular Saint Nicholas magazine, which featured stories by up and coming young authors, she published early works by Mark Twain, Louisa May Alcott, Robert Louis Stevenson, Rudyard Kipling and E. B. White, to name a few. 

On the strength of Dodge's reputation, I expected to love this famous title of hers. Sadly, I found it hasn't aged well. Some 19th century authors seem to have a gift for remaining engaging and timeless well over a century further on. It strikes me that Dodge wasn't one of them, although many of her proteges were.

Hans Brinker is a noble teenager who struggles to make ends meet. He lives with his younger sister, Gretel, their hardworking mother and disabled father. The dad, Raff Brinker, suffered severe head injuries in a workplace injury that wiped out his memory, and now he needs constant supervision. A grand skating race with a generous prize is announced, but will the Brinker kids ever be able to scrape together enough funds to purchase adequate skates? Not to mention, mean boy Carl Van Schummel wants to sabotage their chances of even entering. 

We learn some great details about Holland, the country below sea level, but the plot itself crawls along at snail's pace until way down the track. And 15-year-old Hans himself has that, 'What a guy!' quality from the very start, which wipes out the need for character development. Self-sacrificing, noble, industrious and resourceful, he has no hero's journey, as such. In fact, we get the idea that if he wasn't such a exemplary specimen of young manhood, far out of anyone else's league, all the instances of good luck throughout the story wouldn't have fallen together as beautifully as they do. 

If this was a travel brochure rather than a novel I would have liked it better. Here is a sample of its good description about the setting itself.

'Often the keels of floating ships are higher than the roofs of the dwellings. The stork clattering to her young on the house peak may feel that her nest is lifted far out of danger, but the croaking frog in neighbouring bulrushes is nearer the stars than she. Water bugs dart backward and forward above the heads of chimney swallows, and willow trees seem drooping with shame because they cannot reach as high as the reeds nearby.' 

🌟🌟½ 

  

'They do it with Mirrors' by Agatha Christie

A man is shot at in a juvenile reform home – but someone else dies…

Miss Marple senses danger when she visits a friend living in a Victorian mansion which doubles as a rehabilitation centre for delinquents. Her fears are confirmed when a youth fires a revolver at the administrator, Lewis Serrocold. Neither is injured. But a mysterious visitor, Mr Gulbrandsen, is less fortunate – shot dead simultaneously in another part of the building.

Pure coincidence? Miss Marple thinks not, and vows to discover the real reason for Mr Gulbrandsen’s visit.

MY THOUGHTS:

Miss Jane Marple is tipped off that something's fishy in the household of Carrie Louise, her old school chum from way back, who has a tendency to marry intense, idealistic men. Carrie Louise's current husband, the single-minded Lewis Serracold, operates Stonygates, a reformatory school for delinquent boys that emphasises nurturing and rehabilitation. A sign posted above the door announces, 'Recover hope, ye who enter here,' the reverse of 'abandon hope' from Dante's Inferno. The guy deserves credit for trying hard. 

Miss Marple goes for a long visit, and trouble erupts when the young secretary, Edgar Lawson, tries to kill Serracold in a delusional frenzy. Lawson himself is an ex-reform school boy with a persecution complex and delusions of grandeur. No sooner is potential tragedy soothed than Christian Gulbrandsen, Carrie Louise's step-son from her first marriage, is found dead in his bedroom. He's been shot. 

It's revealed that Christian was trying to uncover a plot against Carrie Louise. The culprit is presumably still intent on their first murderous mission. Why anyone would want to hurt gracious and cherished Carrie Louise is baffling, especially when the suspects are narrowed down to a small circle of her nearest and dearest.

There is her grumpy and frumpy widowed daughter, Mildred; two more step-sons from Carrie Louise's second marriage, Alex and Stephen Restarick, who revere her; and her vibrant and beautiful granddaughter, Gina, recently back from America with her disgruntled young husband, Walter, in her wake. He is everyone's main scapegoat since he's new on the scene, yet the police wonder if that should, in fact, rule Walter out. Overlooking everyone is the stern but devoted 'Jolly', Carrie Louise's elderly companion who adores her.    

Miss Marple really plays on her slightly doddery and disarming front. She has a warm and sympathetic way of encouraging confidence, which reinforces to her how often people make assumptions about others. Every so often she expresses gratitude for her nephew, Raymond, who supports her financially. It's lucky for the world of crime that he does. She's one of my favourite sleuths. 

I love the setting of Stonygate, the shabby, genteel old mansion that's gone to seed. It's a perfect backdrop for all the action. Its dodgy electrical wiring was installed by Dr Gulbrandsen 'when electrical light was a novelty.' Gee whiz, what a landmine, when mavericks could fiddle around with a building's wiring in an era long before safety switches. 

Lewis' surprising goal stands out to me too. In his line of work, he believes that transportation saved many a potential criminal. Lewis Serracold believes, 'modern and civilised conditions are too complex for some simple and undeveloped natures,' so being shipped overseas to form new lives in simpler surroundings is the making of many. His big dream is to purchase something like a group of small islands to repeat the experiment with some of his boys. It's a topsy-turvy notion that's hard for an Aussie like me to wrap my head around, having been taught from the cradle that we were merely a harsh dumping ground for our convicts, supposed desperadoes, many of whom were simply destitute and starving.

The illusional nature of the title really impresses me. It's a great read, really hard to put down, clever and satisfying. My only gripe is that toward the end, the incidental death toll rises by a few more, which seem dramatic and unnecessary. It includes some of Carrie Louise's most beloved people, yet she doesn't seem overly distraught. I guess there's no place for genuine grief to be shown in a cosy murder mystery, so we've got to assume it happens off stage. (Perhaps that explains why I find the genre awesome, but rarely 5 star material.) 

Whew, I'm glad my two favourite characters have nothing to do with it. 

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'The Man who was Thursday' by G. K. Chesterton

G. K. Chesterton's surreal masterpiece is a psychological thriller that centers on seven anarchists in turn-of-the-century London who call themselves by the names of the days of the week. Chesterton explores the meanings of their disguised identities in what is a fascinating mystery and, ultimately, a spellbinding allegory.

MY THOUGHTS:

A couple of years ago I read The Napoleon of Notting Hill, which just edged over my threshold for weirdness. Nevertheless, I decided to give G. K Chesterton another try by tackling this even more famous title. Wow, it's every bit as bizarre as the other, yet this one I love. Chesterton reveals himself to be a forward thinking, prophetic genius through this wacky story and I've already recommended it to several people.   

It begins with Gabriel Syme, who's a poet. He's also an undercover police detective who infiltrates the deep, secret headquarters of the Central Anarchist Council. Its president is an intimidating, mysterious individual who goes by the alias, 'Sunday.' The anarchists are about to hold an election to fill a vacancy left by the death of a prior agent, 'Thursday,' and Gabriel bluffs his way into the position, eager to fight anarchy as a double agent. However, he's anxious about whether he can pull off the slick masquerade necessary to fool the dark agents of anarchy, who are now his close companions.

The secretary, 'Monday', is a menacing figure with a lopsided smile. 'Tuesday' is Gogol, a bearded, ape-like man with a strong Polish accent, and 'Wednesday' is the Marquis de Eustache, a rich and sensual aristocrat. Professor de Worms, alias 'Friday' appears spookily ancient and decrepit. And 'Saturday' is Dr Bull, a hearty young GP who insists, for some reason, on keeping his eyes covered with dark spectacles. Syme, assuming his new role as 'Thursday', aims to foil an assassination attempt across the Channel in France but fears these fellow agents of anarchy will be more than a match for him. 

That's a big enough teaser. Revealing any more will risk spoiling the story, except that a predictable pattern unfolds in a most unpredictable manner, which sounds contradictory but Chesterton is master of paradox. Being the great theologian and philosopher he was, Chesterton's themes are deeper than meets the eye. For his hero, Gabriel Syme aims to overcome not just individual anarchists themselves but a problematic, poisonous, Nihilist mindset which Chesterton wished to address. He believed too many people blurred the distinction between good and evil, going so far as to consider evil good. Keep in mind, this book's publication date was 1908! (The surreal tale of London features a great ferris wheel in Earl's Court that only existed between 1895 and 1907, after which it was dismantled. It also has a speeding elephant from the London zoo.)

There is plenty of fun irony, such as Syme remarking what a tight, orderly headquarters these advocates of chaos operate, and how his own stand for respectability is actually his personal form of total rebellion, since his parents were crooks and revolutionaries. Genius one-liners keep coming too. The book's subtitle is, 'a nightmare' which Syme likens to his own adventures. At one point, he eats a delicious lobster dinner and remarks, ' It's not often a nightmare leads me to lobster. More often the other way around.'

And how about this neat insult delivered by Sunday to Saturday. 'I daresay yours is the sort of face that grows on one. In fact, it grows on you, and who am I to quarrel with the wild fruits upon the Tree of Life.'   

I'll be honest, parts of this story still baffle me, but in a fascinated way. I'm sure subsequent readings will reveal more of the onion layers of this story, when I return to it down the track.

For now, I'll finish off with this abbreviated confrontation between Wednesday and Gabriel (Thursday) who, at this stage, really needed to pick a fight with him. Do you think it has shades of our own extremely touchy era? 

  'This man has insulted me, said Syme. 'He insulted my aunt.' 

'But how can the Marquis have insulted your aunt just now? He has been sitting here the whole time.'

'Ah, it was what he said.' 

'I said nothing at all,' said the Marquis, 'except something about the band. I only said that I liked to hear Wagner played well.'

'It was an allusion to my family,' said Syme firmly. 'My aunt played Wagner badly. It was a painful subject. We are always being insulted about it. The whole of your conversation was simply packed with sinister allusions to my aunt's weaknesses.' 

'This is nonsense. I for one have said nothing for half an hour except that I liked the singing of the girl with black hair.' 

'Well, there you are again! My aunt's hair was red.' 

'It seems to me, you are simply seeking a pretext to insult the Marquis,' said the other gentleman.

'By George. What a clever chap you are.' 

Do read it, if you think your own tolerance for weird, potentially mind-blowing novels may be up to the challenge.  

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 

'Pollyanna's Debt of Honour' by Harriet Lummis Smith

MY THOUGHTS:

It's the fifth Glad Book and Smith's third, first published in 1927. Pollyanna and Jimmy celebrate their tenth wedding anniversary. The house across the road from them will be lived in at last, by a father and daughter duo who wish to shun visitors, and have therefore chosen the wrong street to settle in. Times have changed. In the 21st century it's become a challenge to meet close neighbours, while in 1920s Elsinore Terrace, it was more of a challenge not to. 

The young woman, Lorraine, has a scarred cheek from an accident, which leaves her bitter and self-conscious. A bit of prying from Pollyanna reveals that Lorraine had been going steady with Frank Lindsay; none other than Jimmy's work friend who had presented them with Jiggs as a pet. But that's all over now. 

It turns out Lorraine thought she was getting a pity proposal from Frank, when in fact she was getting a heartfelt one. The stalemate has dragged on for years. Since the pair is still in love, it will take a slick bit of matchmaking from Pollyanna to bring them together. She considers the fulfillment of this will be her 'debt of honour' since Lorraine rescued baby Ruth from being hit by a truck. But it'll take more effort than she imagines.

Meanwhile, James (aka Jamie) Carew has written a book which is getting rave reviews and being lapped up by the public. Jamie considers it his most 'mature and thoughtful work' but to Pollyanna it is horribly risque. The heroine is an adulterous woman who tires of her husband and runs off with a new hunk instead. The question modern readers may ask is whether Pollyanna and Jimmy are being prudish by panning it. After all, the plot of James' book sounds like a knockoff of Anna Karenina, which is a timeless classic. But Pollyanna gives James a tongue-lashing, and he understandably gets defensive. An author has a right to write whatever he darn well pleases, right? 

Think again. Harriet Lummis Smith crafts her own book in a way that echoes Pollyanna's point. James gets egg on his face when his beautiful young secretary, under the influence of his own deplorable main character, attempts to pull off a Lydia Bennett maneuver and run away with a seductive fellow she fancies. It seems a girl's reputation could be squelched as much in the 1920s as in the Regency Era, but the book made her do it. At least Pollyanna brings the lion's share of blame to Jamie's door. 'I hold him responsible for making respectability seem tame and cowardly and immorality romantic and beautiful.' Hmm, James has the grace to ponder her point and admit that fiction authors may hold a huge onus in shaping society, since readers everywhere are affected by the books they read.   

One up for Harriet Lummis Smith and her mouthpiece, Pollyanna, although I have to say we readers are in no position to really form an opinion in this instance without at least reading Jamie's book, Growing Pains, which of course we're not able to.  

Pollyanna is such a busybody though. She sets out to rescue Paula Merrill, a young woman she's met only once, from the clutches of Gerald Fox, a man who is also a stranger. Honestly, who does such audacious meddling?! Yet just when we think she's gone too far, her nosiness saves the day. So part of me wonders if we're being convinced to regard sticky-beaking and interfering as strengths. They sure seem to be in Pollyanna's case.

Here are a couple of other dated quotes that make me cringe or laugh out loud. When Pollyanna is introduced to the beautiful Paula, she says, 'It's hard to believe anyone so ornamental can be useful too,' intending it as a sweeping compliment. I can't help thinking Paula must've shown great restraint not to roll her eyes.

 On another occasion Pollyanna tells Junior, 'I never had to earn my living. First Aunt Polly took care of me, and now Daddy does.' Finally, I love this comment from Jimmy. When Pollyanna tells the two blokes to sneak a peep at the beautiful Paula Merrill, he says, 'I'll give Frank the first chance. Looking at pretty girls isn't going to do me any good.' 

The Pendleton kids are developing distinct personalities. Those who love Pollyanna often enjoy L. M. Montgomery's Anne series too. So if we were to compare the three kids with Anne and Gilbert's brood, Junior is more of a Jem than a Walter; active and decisive. There's a very cool incident in which he saves his beloved pet Jiggs from being dog-napped. Judy is like Nan, beautiful and imaginative, and baby Ruth has shades of Rilla. She's said to be less beautiful than her sister but widely loved for her radiant cheerfulness, obviously inherited from her mother. 

It's worth noticing that the word 'honour' is spelled with an 'u' in the title. The twenties were apparently before American spelling came to be. Overall, this was a fun read but not one of my very favourites, since I don't sympathise overly much with Frank and Lorraine, who couldn't work out their own business without help from a busybody. 

Next up will be Pollyanna's Western Adventure. 

🌟🌟🌟½

'The Big Fisherman' by Lloyd C. Douglas

It was a calm, early summer noon in the southern mountains of Arabia. Sheltering the King's well-guarded domain, a mile above and a dozen miles east of the Dead Sea, motionless masses of neighbourly white clouds hung suspended from a remote blue ceiling.
There had been an unusually heavy snowfall in the winter, not only upon the King's land but throughout the country. It was going to be a prosperous season for everybody. Intertribal jangling and discontent would be reduced to a minimum.

MY THOUGHTS:

 This was the bestselling fiction title of the year 1948. The eponymous character is, of course, the Apostle Peter, who booms off the page with huge stature and forceful personality. It tells the Gospel story with himself as the focal point, and I appreciate the inner grappling of Peter's mind every step along the way, from his first reluctant venture, as Simon the fisherman, to hear the noteworthy young Carpenter speak, to his passionate leading of the brand new faith movement. The bits concerning tussles with his own ego, in the face of Jesus' total indifference to social status or fame, are especially fun. Considering my current quest, (singling out the bestseller for each year throughout a century), I've got to grin. 

Their first face to face encounter is among my favourite passages.

'By comparison with Simon's height and bulk, the Carpenter was of slight physique; but something about him, emanating from him, made him a commanding figure. Simon sensed it and felt inferior. In point of years, the man was his junior. Every other way considered, Simon felt himself a mere awkward, overgrown boy. He looked down into a pair of tranquil, steady, earnestly inquiring eyes. They held him fast; they brightened with a friendly smile, almost as if two long-time companions were meeting after a separation.' 

But the big fisherman is not the only main character. It's also about the Arabian Princess Fara, the offspring of a marriage of convenience gone horribly haywire. Fara is a fictional character (I think!) but her parents' ill-fated union is recorded in history and woven into this storyline. As a young man, Herod Antipas marries Phasaelis, known as Arnon in this book, daughter of Aretas, King of the Arabs. It's a political alliance intended to strengthen the might of both countries. But when the threat from Rome turns out to be not as dire as first feared, Antipas divorces Arnon and sends her home, since she cramps his style. By our modern standards, the dude did far worse things than that down the track. (And hey, at least he didn't pull a Henry VIII move and execute her.) I almost feel he does her a favour, since she's miserable and homesick. But those ancient Arabians were a fierce, proud people who instantly put Antipas on their hit list for what they perceive as a national snub. 

No-one is more bitter against Antipas than Fara, his attractive daughter who has never met him but blames him that she feels like an outcast. For some reason, she assumes assassinating her biological father will change all her hang-ups. As Fara heads to Israel intending to commit the gruesome deed, her destiny is tangled with Peter's, and she's drawn along with him to the compelling teaching of the charismatic Carpenter. 

And in yet another thread, anxious Voldi, the handsome young hunk who's in love with Fara, is hot on her heels. Although he ticks all her boxes, she refuses to marry him, since she considers herself a liability to him. Voldi would do anything to change Fara's mind.  

As you can imagine, this is the sort of epic you begin without knowing when you'll come out the other side. It feels drawn out toward the end, because the story extends far beyond Jesus' Crucifixion to some of the events in Acts, and hints that the end occurs shortly before Peter's own death. 

Douglas often uses poetic license, which can be cool in story retellings. But I guess the main peril of reading fiction based strongly on biblical scripture, or any history at all, is that lines may be blurred. Joseph of Arimathea is cast in the role of the rich young ruler, which works in this story but most likely wasn't him at all. The healing miracles are great, but written in a way that suggests each one seriously saps Jesus' strength. Nothing in Scripture supports this. Sure, he sometimes got exhausted, but from hours of strenuous, non-stop work, rather than any individual acts. I do get Douglas' good intentions to show that every burden Jesus lifts from anyone is taken on himself, foreshadowing the tremendous gesture of the Crucifixion. Yet at the same time, promoting the idea that healing people completely drained him undermines Jesus' position of power and authority.

If we compare this epic against record, a few great Peter moments go begging. There is no Transfiguration incident in this book, and no mention of the crowing rooster during his big moment of shameful grief. Nor is there any scene with Peter rushing to the Tomb directly after hearing the women's report that it was empty.

 As for Fara's thread, it sputters out all of three ways; regarding her father, Voldi and her future. I won't move into plot spoilers, but in both factual and fictional storylines, several dramatic incidents it seems logical to include were either glossed over or occurred offstage. After investing so much time into this massive book, that was disappointing. Some readers may feel that since this tome is well over 500 pages, Lloyd Douglas couldn't include everything. But I contest that some of the bits he did retain could've easily been sacrificed for the sake of the super-duper, mind-blowing bits he missed out.  

Overall, there are many touching, convicting, breathtaking moments that make it well worth pushing through. I was pleased to see these words put into the mouth of Gamaliel, legal council to the lawgivers. 'Give these infatuated Galileans time. If their cause is unworthy of regard it will perish. If it is inspired of God, as they insist, you will not be able to thwart it even if you would.' 

Ranking it is a challenge. The convicting, power moments definitely deserve five stars, yet the sketchy or missed parts undeniably cheat readers of the action we have every right to expect. And although I enjoyed the book, I was glad to turn the final page.    

🌟🌟🌟