The 12 Days of Christmas Book Tag

I saw this fun, seasonal Book Tag from Ruth @ A Great Book Study and straight away wanted to have a try. The aim is to match each of the gifts from 'my true love' with a suitable book. Here goes. 

1) A Partridge in a Pear Tree - Book that involves Agriculture

Anna Karenina! I'm thinking of the scene in which the wealthy young land-owner, Konstantin Levin, really wants to help mow his own grass for the satisfaction of a job well done. He gets down and dirty with his hired peasants, who laugh at him for bothering, as do his fellow gentry friends. But Levin doesn't care, since the appeal of the great outdoors and using his muscles is so strong for him.

2) Turtle Doves - Book about a long-lasting relationship.

I'll choose West From Home by Laura Ingalls Wilder for this one, but we must draw from her whole Little House series for the full effect. Laura and Almanzo go through so many hardships, and experience far more downs than ups, yet they stick together through thick and thin and live well into their nineties. These books are always a pleasure to read.

3) French Hens - Book that takes place in France.

I highly recommend Little by Edward Carey. It's an amazingly creative novel in which Marie Curie of waxworks fame tells her own life story, and brings the crazy days of revolutionary Paris to life. 

4) Calling Birds - Book where people talk on the phone.

OK, it's James Herriot's All Creatures Great and Small series about those awesome Yorkshire vets. I'm thinking specifically of the hilarious incidents when Tristan keeps phone-pranking James, imitating local farmers with horrendous jobs that urgently need to be done. But James gets back at him in a vulnerable moment with the phone prank to beat all that came before.

5) Golden Rings - Book with multiple romances.

Jane Austen's Emma! There are many perfectly unexpected pairings by the time we turn the final page, and none are the matches Emma Woodhouse initially expects, least of all her own. I approve of Emma and Knightley, and also Frank and Jane, but most of all I'm glad about Harriet and Robert Martin. I'm also pleased that smarmy Mr Elton gets the woman he truly deserves. 

6) Geese a Laying - Book with a birth or featuring babies.

It's fresh on my mind because I re-read it just recently. Anne's House of Dreams, by Lucy Maud Montgomery. It's the book in which Anne and Gilbert finally get married. After the heartache of losing their first baby, they welcome a healthy son, little Jem, into their family. His birth takes place toward the end of the story, which makes a wonderful, uplifting culmination to the novel. 

7) Swans a Swimming - Book where someone goes swimming.

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It's that second task of the Triwizard Tournament where the competitors have to retrieve something of great value from the bottom of the Hogwarts Lake. Harry, Cedric, Fleur and Krum must all get their thinking caps on to figure out how to do their best and most effective swim. And Harry's use of gillyweed is quite ingenius, even though he doesn't come up with it alone. Harry rarely does, and we discover why. 

8) Maids a Milking - Book with cows.

 Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons. The Starkadder cows are like extensions of the family, especially because their names suit the grim, melancholic tone of the place. They are Feckless, Graceless, Pointless and Aimless, not to mention the bull, Big Business. 

9) Ladies Dancing - Book with a Dance Scene.

I'm going to draw from the brilliant Jane Austen again, with Pride and Prejudice this time. It's the ballroom scene that sets off a whole lot of friction, when Elizabeth overhears grumpy Mr Darcy refusing to dance with her, because she's not pretty enough to suit him. What a face palm. I would have taken at least as long as Elizabeth to forgive him for that. 

10) Lords a Leaping - Book with Athletes.

I hope it's not a cop-out to go with the Harry Potter series again, and all the wonderful quidditch playing. It was quite as exciting to read about the Quidditch World Cup at the start of The Goblet of Fire as it must have been to actually attend. Harry becomes quite a champion seeker himself throughout the series, and deserves a mention.

11) Pipers Piping - Book with Someone Playing a Musical Instrument.

I'll highlight the work of Louisa May Alcott this time. When Jo March and Professor Bhaer get married, they open a school for boys. One of their students is an orphan named Nat Blake who has a great gift playing the violin. Throughout Little Men and Jo's Boys, they are able to help him hone his skills and make his way in the world as a musician. 

12) Drummers Drumming - Book with Characters in the Military. 

My first impulse is to choose Rilla of Ingleside when Anne and Gilbert's sons go off to fight in World War One. But there's enough doubling up, so I'll go with Vanity Fair, in which the main men of the story, George Osborne, William Dobbin and Rawdon Crawley are all brave soldiers fighting in the Napoleonic War. (See what I did there, squeezing in two for the price of one.)   

There we have it. I'd love for anyone else to take up the baton, so I can read your answers. Please let me know if you do in the comments. And I wish you all a blessed and merry Christmas. 

2020 Back to the Classics Challenge Wrap-Up

Well, it's over for another year. Some I loved and admired tremendously, others I didn't think highly of at all, but as usual I read wider than I would have. Here they are, chosen and reviewed throughout the year. And now I'll eagerly wait to see if there will be a new challenge announced for yet another year.  

19th Century Classic - The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte

20th Century Classic - My Antonia by Willa Cather

Classic by a Woman Author - The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim

Classic in Translation - Kristin Lavransdattar; The Wreath by Sigrid Undset 

Classic by a Person of Colour (any classic by a non-white author) -
To Sir With Love by E.R. Braithwaite

Genre Classic (any classic novel that falls into a genre category) - The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

Classic with a Person's Name in the Title - Charlotte's Web by E. B. White

Classic with a Place Name in the Title - Bleak House by Charles Dickens

Classic with Nature in the Title (except animals) - The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame

Classic about a Family - The Harp in the South novels by Ruth Park

An Abandoned Classic (that you just never got around to finishing) - Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell 

Classic Adaptation (any classic that's been adapted as a movie or TV series) - Vanity Fair by W.M. Thackeray

'The Signature of all Things' by Elizabeth Gilbert

In The Signature of All Things, Elizabeth Gilbert returns to fiction, inserting her inimitable voice into an enthralling story of love, adventure and discovery.

MY THOUGHTS:

 This is a wonderful sweeping epic across time and place that spans almost the entire nineteenth century as well as the life of its main character, for Alma Whittaker was born in January 1800 and grows up to figure out the theory of natural selection long before Charles Darwin ever published his groundbreaking book. 

The first part of the story introduces Alma's colourful, larger-than-life family. Her father, Henry Whittaker, is a pharmaceutical importer/exporter millionaire who got his start in life as a cheeky teenager stealing plants from the great Sir Joseph Banks at Kew Gardens. Her mother, Beatrix van Devender, is the brainy, austere and demanding daughter of a Dutch garden curator who could see Henry's potential. Later they adopt another little girl to be Alma's sister; the stunningly beautiful and compliant Prudence, who's no academic at heart. Prudence contrasts with Alma's physically plain, scrappy, cerebral brilliance. Needless to say both girls suffer by the family arrangement, in matters of the heart as well as self-esteem.    

To distract herself from disappointment and lack of fulfillment, Alma decides to become the foremost world expert on mosses. To focus on something so tiny, quiet and unobtrusive does her good. She concludes that mosses are intelligent, hardy, modest and dignified, even though they're overlooked and trodden on. All these are attributes she believes they share with her. Despite her brilliant research, Alma's study brings her no recognition beyond the few souls in the world who care about mosses! This emphasis on painstaking work solely for its own sake is super soothing to read. I doubt I could muster up sustaining interest in bryology itself, but reading about Alma Whittaker's passion for it is truly a joy. 

The significance of the novel's title becomes evident when Alma meets the younger man she falls passionately in love with. The gorgeous Ambrose Pike is a botanical artist of extraordinary genius who produces lifelike paintings of orchids, homing in on their very essence. He is fascinated by spiritual and mystical topics to the extent that he aspires to tap into the angelic realm while still alive. Ambrose respects the work of sixteenth century botanist Jacob Boehme who believed that God has hidden clues for the benefit of mortals within the earth's botany. In other words, the signature of all things is to be found within flowers, leaves and trees.

To say that this couple suffer from conflict of interests is a vast understatement. From the outset, Alma gets nowhere when she tries to fathom all the theories Ambrose is on about with the aid of her razor sharp reason and intellect. He even says, 'I am touched that you are trying to understand through rational thought that which cannot be understood at all.' But the full brunt of their misunderstanding is something that emerges only after they tie the knot. (The awkwardness is something that must be read to be believed, so be prepared to blush in sympathy for both of them.)  

Alma's quest to understand the true nature of her husband in retrospect as well as she understands mosses leads her to Tahiti, which she knows as the resting place of so many great explorers of the previous century. From there she moves on to Amsterdam, the birthplace of her maternal relatives. Elizabeth Gilbert's prose is so beautiful and unexpected, I was quite willing to keep turning any amount of pages just to see whatever epiphany Alma has next.

The main one is pretty big! What I love about Alma's own personal natural selection theory is her reluctance to publish, because the actions of people in her live have helped give her a niggling conviction that something is incomplete. Although survival of the fittest makes sense across a broad spectrum of nature, she cannot account for the pesky existence of human sacrifice and altruism. Of course Alma waits too long for evidence of something that can never be pinned down and examined beneath the microscope. Charles Darwin beats her to the finish line, but I love Alma's gracious acknowledgment that his 'On the Origin of Species' is a far more eloquent masterpiece than anything she would have put forth, so he was the man who was born to change the world's way of thinking. (Even though he doesn't account for the problem of altruism either.) 

As to the answer to Alma's question, along with the existence of human emotions, ethics and love, Gilbert only has her characters echo debates which are still raging to this day. What more can she do? She's written an ambitious, probing story, but it's a huge ask to expect her to present a neat solution which would please all readers. Personally, I thrilled to the speech that Alfred Russell Wallace (a real life scientist) put forth when Alma finally got to meet him.

Wallace says, 

'I will tell you why we have these extraordinary minds and souls. We have them because there is a supreme intelligence in the universe which wishes for communion with us. This supreme intelligence longs to be known. It calls out to us. It draws us close to its mystery and it grants us these remarkable minds in order that we try to reach for it. It wants us to find it. It wants union with us more than anything.' 

Alma calls it a beautiful theory which comes as close to answering her question as anything has, but points out that it's still answering a mystery with another mystery. And she still seeks answers from empirical science as she was born to do. 

I'm giving this novel 5 stars not because it addresses these questions and doubts to everyone's satisfaction (which it can't), but because my interest in Alma's story never once flagged. The sense of curiosity, energy and innovation which characterised the nineteenth century comes through clearly, and each character comes across as a living, breathing creation, including many of the botanical ones.

It's probably fair to add a tip that this novel gets steamy at times. Not steamy enough for poor Alma, but perhaps too steamy for some readers. But I think Elizabeth Gilbert is one of the authors of the 21st century whose work I'll always look out for.  

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟      

'To Sir with Love' by E.R. Braithwaite

The modern classic about a dedicated teacher in a tough London school who slowly and painfully breaks down the barriers of racial prejudice, this is the story of a man's integrity winning through against the odds.

MY THOUGHTS:

This is my choice for the Book by an Author of Colour category of the 2020 Back to the Classics Challenge. The action takes place in the mid forties, which astonished me because I imagined it was the sixties. That's probably because of the movie starring Sidney Poitier, which was released in 1967 and set around the same time as far as I can recall. But the actual book on which it's based is a real mid-twentieth century classic. 

 Rick Braithwaite is an ex-RAF pilot who came out of the War with honours. With a Science and Electronics degree behind him, he applies for some engineering positions for which he's highly qualified, but potential employers keep deciding against him on sight because of his skin colour. Every! Single! Time! Braithwaite grows to resent the people who so callously and unfeelingly deny him a right to earn a living. 

At last he's interviewed and accepted for a school teacher job at the daunting and dubious Greenslade Secondary School. His position turns out to have a higher turnover than a Harry Potter DADA teacher, because his predecessors have a history of walking out on the spur of the moment. The senior class in question is a bunch of delinquents from the wrong side of the tracks who are disillusioned enough to keep flouting authority. As far as the ruling powers are concerned, Braithwaite, being a coloured man, is second best for them just as they, the dreaded rebels, are for him. But he accepts the challenge with energy and enthusiasm, because he's delighted to have a job at all. 

Rather than tailoring his lessons to their supposed standard, Braithwaite makes it clear to the students that he expects them to raise theirs to meet his, which he assures them isn't too high because they are intelligent young men and women. It's really cool to read how he draws the best from each of them. It's one of those paradoxes of life. Advice to not cast pearls before swine makes sense, but so does treating others like the people you want them to be, trusting they'll honour your faith.

Changing times is evident throughout this story, which still comes across so modern, although it took place almost eighty years ago. I appreciate Braithwaite's stern words to the boys, after young Potter turns on the gym teacher Mr Bell, who has mistreated his friend Buckley. 'Are you going to resort to clubs or knives every time you're upset or angered?' He then reasons that there will always be bullies and idiots who anger them on the workplace, which is a fact they must get used to, and insists that Potter apologise to Mr Bell. This is a great scene, yet I can't help wondering if in the twenty-twenties, this lesson of self-control might be allowed to slide in favour of 'standing up for your rights!'  

One thing that hasn't changed enough is racial discrimination. You can't read this book without getting angry over the way Braithwaite is treated across the board. I was groaning in sympathy for him and shame for all those others who reject him on sight. Everything he attempts to do, whether applying for jobs or taking his girlfriend out for dinner, attracts the same negative attention. I was fed up with the appalling behaviour of the general public just after reading this 180 page novel, so the pain of facing the same old flak every day of your life for something completely irrelevant and unchangeable must be unimaginable. 

The poor guy has to psyche himself up to meet his white girlfriend's parents just as a matter of course. It's all in a day's work, but shouldn't be. Braithwaite describes how defensiveness and edginess can become wound up in a person's integral make-up, all because of the prejudice of others. 'Sticks and stones may break your bones but names will never hurt you,' is truly a limited maxim. 

I wasn't crazy about the thread with Braithwaite and his fellow teacher, Gillian Blanchard, because it doesn't seem to fit this particular story. The book's focal awesomeness is all about the changing relationship between him and the students, so whenever it shifts to Braithwaite's romantic life, I wanted to return to the main theme ASAP. I wasn't enthralled with her character, so whatever spark they had didn't work for me.

On the whole, I applaud Braithwaite for writing this book. Without giving himself much of the spotlight at all, he comes across as the dignified, gracious human-being he was, and a great example to take life as it comes with aplomb and tact. As I read, I found myself humming the old song, 'To Sir with Love' sung by Lulu, who played Barbara Pegg in the old 1967 film. Although it's a hard-hitting story, there is also plenty of fun. 

🌟🌟🌟🌟  

A blog for 'normies'

I recently finished Dubliners; James Joyce's collection of stories set in that city around the turn of the twentieth century. It finishes on a highly charged emotional note in the final story, The Dead, which I've seen called the Grand Finale. So I was lying in bed, wondering if I'd managed to squeeze all the juice out of the main character Gabriel Conroy's profound epiphany. It intrigued me enough to start an internet search, hoping for an extra boost of enlightenment and clarity. I only had to begin typing, 'The Dead - Gabriel's epiphany' for Google to finish the line for me. So far so good. 

But before long, I found myself in a Joycean rabbit warren of confusion, mystification and head spinning. The writers of these articles have far sharper and shinier intellects than mine, and more appreciation for the arty aspects of the story. Their brilliant fingers are obviously on the pulse of psychoanalysis, symbolism, this-ism and that-ism I'd never even considered. I ended my search feeling more bewildered rather than less.

Sometimes this sort of thing is enough to make me feel a bit deflated if I dwell on it. Perhaps my reviews and book chats are more like swimming pools rather than the vast ocean of literary significance we'd all like to dive into. Don't get me wrong, I do try to dive deep. That's why I've set myself the challenge of a regular book blog, which I may add I thoroughly enjoy. It's just that my depth falls short of Professor Smartfella's. It sometimes seems reasonable to ask the question, 'Is it even worth putting all my stuff out there, when I'm not picking up on all this, and can't even wrap my head around half of it?' 

I've written this reflection partly to remind myself of the reason I started. I want to give books the sort of straightforward appraisal that anybody whose grey matter falls short of Mensa level may appreciate. I want to present the bare bones of the themes as far as I can tell, to help others on my wavelength form an idea of whether or not it's something they might dare to invest time in. I want to provide sense of humour alerts which clever enthusiasts too invested in a book might accidentally overlook. And I want to help burst those scary bubbles which too much awe or reputation can blow way out of proportion. It's always a shame when anybody avoids a book they'd probably love, just because our well-meaning arty friends have made them appear too big and too shiny. By the same token, I'm willing to be that little boy who announces that as far as I can tell, the emperor is naked. When a book strikes me as too high-falutin' or OTT for us mere mortals, I'll say so. 

I've actually come across a similar train of thought in some of the novels I've reviewed here. In The Fountain Overflows for example, Mrs Clare Aubrey considers all her kids musical virtuosos, except for her eldest daughter Cordelia, who doesn't realise she falls short. She's out giving violin concerts which crowds enjoy, while her more brilliant sisters Mary and Rose sit home labouring over their more complex pieces, (because there's no way they're going out if their delivery is short of perfect), and talk about what a clueless embarrassment she is. Cordelia is the stand-out character for me, because she doesn't let the sky-high standards of those supposedly superior beings stop her from pursuing her passion and having fun. 

That's one of the things I'm all about here. Life is always too short to leave fun pursuits solely to those who are brilliant at them. 

Satisfaction is in the journey. 

And a less elaborate way of looking at a subject is not necessarily less valid.

I'll sign off with this fun link to a site my eldest son put onto, called artybollocks. Have a go at this generator. If you've been stumped for inspiration as often I have over the years, you'll find it lots of fun.    

'Kristin Lavransdatter' by Sigrid Undset

In her great historical epic Kristin Lavransdatter, set in fourteenth-century Norway, Nobel laureate Sigrid Undset tells the life story of one passionate and headstrong woman. Painting a richly detailed backdrop, Undset immerses readers in the day-to-day life, social conventions, and political and religious undercurrents of the period. Now in one volume, Tiina Nunnally's award-winning definitive translation brings this remarkable work to life with clarity and lyrical beauty.

MY THOUGHTS:

This review is only of the first installment in the trilogy; The Wreath. It will also be my choice for Classic in Translation in this year's Back to the Classics Challenge. Early twentieth century Scandinavian author Sigrid Undset was translated by Tiina Nunnally in this celebrated version.  

Until quite recently, I'd never heard of this classic. But suddenly I saw it recommended by several highly respected reviewers all at once. It has an average 5 star rating on Goodreads, and just to clinch it, it won the 1928 Nobel Literature Prize. With such high indicators of excellence, I was certain a brilliant novel awaited me, and it seemed to be so popular, I was on the library waiting list for several months. You can bet I cheered when I saw the message on my phone that it had arrived for me at last.  

Boy oh boy! I turn out to be one of those reviewers in the minority to speak up for the other side. I'm bound to step on a few toes, but here we have it in a nutshell. Girl falls for a young dude with a questionable reputation just because he's hot, and her concerned dad withholds his consent for as long as he can before rolling his eyes and letting them have their way. That's basically it, but I'll thresh it out a little.

I'm guessing the authenticity and detailed description of rural life in medieval Norway is what earned this book's reputation. Indeed Sigrid Undset did impeccable research and seemed to nail the minutest details of lifestyles in this time and place. (As far as we can tell, since we weren't there.) The contrast between people's staunch Catholic faith and the lingering pull of pagan folk tales and legends comes through loud and clear. I was impressed by her scope too, but not so much that it excused the over-the-top characters and plot. Nobel Literature Prize! What the heck? It's like a soap opera of the most melodramatic type. 

Our title character is the sort of girl all men love and all women tolerate. Kristin is the eldest of three daughters. She's very holy, obedient to her parents and embraces the ancient ways things have always been done. When her affectionate dad betroths her to a steady young man named Simon, she's willing to roll with it and decides that Simon is quite likable. Kristin spends some time in a convent in the lead-up to their marriage date, partly to help her recover from some other drama, and partly for a bit of character formation. While she's there, a chance encounter sends everything she's ever stood for flying out of her head. Kristin meets a guy named Erlend and decides he's definitely the love of her life. Her father and Simon can just pull their heads in! It's now, 'I'd rather sleep with Erlend on bare straw than with any other man on a silk bed.'

 This about-face occurs the second time she ever sets eyes on Erlend. Kristin is totally ready for him to have his amorous way with her on the spot, and her only reason appears to be that he's good looking. She knows nothing about his character, except for rumours that portray him as a seducer, marriage breaker and father of two illegitimate kids. If it ever occurs to her that a guy who would make a move on a young girl in a convent who is promised to another man could be a bit dodgy, it doesn't matter a bit, because he has bright eyes and a charming smile. In turn, Kristin's stunning blonde beauty is enough for Erlend to add more friction with yet another family to his track record. 

You can bet there is plenty of drama in the pages following. Stabbings, poisonings, sudden appearances of unexpected foes and enough shrill screaming to make my ears ring through the pages. The moral seems to be spoken by Erlend's Aunt Aashild, who is a bit of an outcast with a reputation of being a witch. She says, 'Good days are granted to sensible people, but the grandest of days are enjoyed by those who dare to act unwisely.'  

Another thing the story is short on is a sense of humour. That's the vital ingredient that makes everything without it as flat and insipid as such high drama can possibly be. Characters rarely tease each other. The dialogue is all totally serious and to the point. Or if there are any jokes, they're along the lines of, 'A slut must have made the porridge for us today. Overly bedded cooks make overly boiled porridge.' 

I've decided to pass on reading the rest of the trilogy. Predictors of what's coming are already flashing in this one. I'm certain that now she's got her own way, Kristin will get all repentant, morbidly religious, and super miserable. Come on girl, pull yourself together. Since you've gone to such lengths to have him, at least enjoy him! 

🌟½    

Anne and Gilbert's bookshelves

When Anne Blythe entertains her troubled and book-deprived new friend Leslie Moore, she invites her to borrow any book from their bookshelf any time. Anne and Gilbert have only recently set up house, and Anne explains, 'Our library isn't very extensive, but every book in it is a friend. We've picked our books up through the years here and there, never buying one until we've first read it and know that it belongs to the Race that knows Joseph.' (This conversation takes place in Anne's House of Dreams.)

Wow, that must be a great bookshelf indeed. Anne learned about the Race that knows Joseph a little earlier, from Captain Jim and Miss Cornelia Bryant. 'If a person sees eye to eye with you and has pretty much the same idea about things and the same taste in jokes, then he or she belongs to the Race that knows Joseph.' 

Their method of organising their shelf turns out to be similar to mine. No book is given place by size, age, thickness, genre or colour but simply by love. I can only hope the Blythes would find mine a good, congenial Joseph-Racy sort of shelf too. 

But I do wish we'd been given a list of those on Anne and Gilbert's, so that we may track them down if we wish. That's one shelf I'd dearly love to browse. However, perhaps Lucy Maud Montgomery left us enough leads so we needn't make random guesses. A careful read of the series reveals books sanctioned by either Anne, Gilbert or any of their kids. (Mostly Walter, since he was the budding poet.) I'm pretty sure that at least a section of Anne and Gilbert's bookshelves would contain the following.

1) Tennyson's Poems. Anne and her three best friends were clearly enthralled with the tale of the Lady of Shalott when they decided to re-enact it on Barry's Pond, and Gilbert saved Anne from near disaster.

2) Ben Hur. Anne was busted in class by Miss Stacy, sneakily reading this epic instead of studying. Anne reasons that she hadn't thought she was being very bad, since it's a good, religious story and no mere novel.

3) Pickwick Papers. Anne was treating herself to this tale of Dickens on the day of Gilbert's regretful first marriage proposal, which she refused. Anne's friend Phil Gordon remarked that reading Pickwick always makes her hungry, because it contains such delicious food descriptions. 

4) Martin Chuzzlewit. Anne assures Diana that she'll be a perfectly amiable guest whenever she comes to stay with her and Fred; just like Mark Tapley would be. 

5) Vanity Fair. When Anne is the principal teacher of Summerside High, the rebellious Jen Pringle reminds her very much of a young Becky Sharp.

6) Foxe's Book of Martyrs. Anne lends this to Jen Pringle once they became good friends. She treasures it not because she enjoys reading about martyrs, but because her beloved Mrs Allan gave it to her as a Sunday School prize. 

7) Homer's The Odyssey. Anne enthuses about Ulysses' adventures to Captain Jim, who relates to the mythical hero's adventurous spirit.

8) Natural Law in the Spiritual World. Whew, this complex text book about science and religion by Henry Drummond seems to be a pretty random choice, lent to Miss Cornelia by Gilbert. She returns it to him without making it all the way through, because she found it 'sort of heretical.' 

9) Lewis Carroll's Alice and Through the Looking Glass. Gilbert alludes to this when he tells his family. 'The walrus said, "It's time to get a dog.'" The announcement goes over well with all his kids, and Jem is especially delighted with the idea. 

10) Rudyard Kipling's Poems. LMM refers to these when Jem's first little dog, Gyp, passes away. She suggests that if Susan was familiar with Kipling's wise words about beloved dogs, she would say that a poet had said something sensible for once.

11) The Pied Piper. This folk tale by Robert Browning affects Walter enough to spur a stunning vision in Rainbow Valley which he never forgets, and later inspires his own celebrated War poem. 

12) Bishop Hatto by Robert Southey.

13) The Wandering Jew by Percy Byssche Shelley. (Both 12 and 13 were loved by Walter Blythe.)

14) Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poems. Even though young Mary Vance was in awe of Walter, she revelled in his book talk when the gang was all down in Rainbow Valley together. 

15) Marmion by Sir Walter Scott. Teenage Walter Blythe was secretly hard at work on an epic of his own resembling this masterpiece.

16) Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Walter was reading this classic when he decided to bestow the name on Ingleside's diabolical, two-faced cat, formerly known as Goldie.

17) Robinson Crusoe. Walter was reading it when Jem's beloved and devoted spotted dog joined the family, and suggested Dog Monday as a suitable name, because the pup joined the family on a Monday.

18) Baroness Nairne's Jacobite Songs. On the night of the lighthouse dance when war was declared between England and Germany, a devastated Walter briefly converses with a hyped-up Jem, who was whistling, 'Wi a hundred pipers an' a' and a' (I actually downloaded The Hundred Pipers on Spotify. It's quite a catchy marching tune.) 

19) Several gardening books. Gilbert suggested that if any book contained the word 'garden' in its title, Anne would be sucker for it. 

20) Gilbert's medical journals. Although he presumably had a separate shelf for these in his office, they round this list up to twenty.