The Growing Summer (Noel Streatfeild)

--The blurb--
"The four Gareth children have always led a very quiet life in London with their parents -- until Dad suddenly gets ill abroad, and Mum has to go out to look after him. The Gareth children are shipped off to Great Aunt Dymphna, who lives wild in an extraordinary half-ruin in Ireland. Here they are not only expected to look after themselves, they also discover that they have company -- a mysterious boy who announces that he is on the run. The children hide him from his pursuers -- but who are they? And who is the boy? The children are determined to find out..."

--The review--
While less didactic than Enid Blyton's canon, Noel Streatfeild's comforting formula is still held affectionately in the hearts of children and adults everywhere, and The Growing Summer is no exception to this: it is a successful story of family life turned upside down in the most positive and fantastical of ways, combined with a dexterous mystery element, and it is surprising that it is not more popular, particularly given that it has in the past been adapted for television.

The fabulous character of Aunt Dymphna is a triumph of children's literature who easily ranks on a par with Supergran, Mr Toad and other equally insane, madcap and hilarious characters who should know better (but don't or choose not to). She is a very welcome interlude in the lives of the prim children who are used to doing very little for themselves and who are made to learn to do things for themselves very rapidly. The story therefore also becomes a great journey of independence and self-discovery, which reinforces the themes commonly found throughout Streatfeild's work.

This could have risked making the story seem schmalzy or sugary or as if the author were trying to overdo it in the 'inspiring' stakes, but this is well-tempered by the subplot of the odious young boy that they take in and hide, and whose real background is only discovered later and his lies seen through. This is just one of the narrative hooks keeping the reader impelled to read on; add to this the descriptions of the beautiful Irish landscape and the marvellous outdoor expeditions that the children and Aunt Dymphna embark upon, and the resultant magical blend makes for excellent rainy-day reading, allowing we as readers to escape our own universe completely.

It also serves as an appropriate touchstone for Streatfeild's work as an example of memorable characters and a high-quality, well-executed storyline. What is perhaps even more remarkable is the fact that by this stage (1966) Streatfeild was already thirty years on from her children's fiction debut, Ballet Shoes (published in 1936), and that in spite of that, at the age of seventy-one, she showed no signs of waning.

Other children's fiction by Noel Streatfeild
 

• Ballet Shoes (1936)
• Tennis Shoes (1937)
• The Circus is Coming (1938) (also published as: Circus Shoes)
• Curtain Up (1944) (also published as: Theater Shoes)
• Party Frock (1946) (also published as: Party Shoes)
• The Painted Garden (1949) (significantly abridged and published in the U.S. as: Movie Shoes)
• White Boots (1951) (also published as: Skating Shoes)
• The Fearless Treasure (1953)
• The Bell Family (1954) (also published as: Family Shoes)
• Wintle's Wonders (1957) (also published as: Dancing Shoes)
• Apple Bough (1962) (also published as: Traveling Shoes)
• A Vicarage Family (1963)
• The Children on the Top Floor (1964)
• Away from the Vicarage (1965)
• Caldicott Place (1967) (also published as: The Family at Caldicott Place)
• The "Gemma" series (1968-9)
• Thursday's Child (1970)
• Beyond the Vicarage (1971)
• Ballet Shoes for Anna (1972)
• When the Siren Wailed (1974)
• Far To Go (1976) (a sequel to Thursday's Child)

Summertime (JM Coetzee)

--The blurb--

"A young English biographer is working on a book about the late writer, John Coetzee. He plans to focus on the years from 1972-1977 when Coetzee, in his thirties, is sharing a run-down cottage in the suburbs of Cape Town with his widowed father. This, the biographer senses, is the period when he was 'finding his feet as a writer'. Never having met Coetzee, he embarks on a series of interviews with people who were important to him."

--The review--

When embarking on the reading of Summertime, initial impressions are, to be blunt, not good at all. Words coming to mind to describe it at this stage include narcissistic, highly stylised, pretentious, and confused. One wonders what Coetzee is trying to say or to achieve.

However, this feeling of being overwhelmed by the novel's concept or purpose is thankfully transient. The more one reads, the cleverer the novel seems to be in its foundations: by fictionalising one's autobiography, this simultaneously makes it a very cunning way to write one due to it being up to you how much you reveal about yourself, as well as the distancing effects created by fictionalisation making it easier to be honest about your faults and foibles. It is rare to see the third person deployed with such originality and to such effect.

By distancing himself from himself, Coetzee also encourages the reader to think more critically: not only politically so, by teaching the reader about the background of South Africa and its people, but also in terms of showing us how much an author or biographer can twist another's story to their own ends and how writers who have still-living people as their subject have to consider the impact of their writing on the living - and on the still-living family of the subject, too.

Less academically-speaking, these Brechtian effects don't last forever: the narrative is well-written and Coetzee does allow the reader to become absorbed in the story. Although the peripheral characters of Coetzee's life are not always consistently well-developed, it is an easy read because of its highly compelling nature. 

However, it is the concept of this fictionalised autobiography (and the previous two in its series, Boyhood and Youth, which could have been named more creatively to avoid looking like they've just been nicked from Tolstoy) which has surely attracted attention from critics and awarding bodies; the story itself is less remarkable, and if it were told in another format, it would have surely slipped through the net.

Other fictional works by JM Coetzee

Dusklands (1974)

In The Heart of the Country (1977)

Waiting for the Barbarians (1980)

Life and Times of Michael K (1983)

Foe (1986)

Age of Iron (1990)

The Master of Petersburg (1994)

Boyhood (1997)

The Lives of Animals (1999)

Disgrace (1999)

Youth (2002)

Elizabeth Costello (2003)

Slow Man (2005)

Diary of a Bad Year (2007)

Circus Shoes (Noel Streatfeild)

--The blurb--

"Threatened with life in separate orphanages when their aunt dies, two children run away to join their unknown uncle who is a circus clown."

 --The review--

Noel Streatfeild's standard format is by now familiar to anyone who's a fan: children find themselves without parents or other family, situation seems hopeless, then badabingbadaboom a "fairy godmother/father" type character appears in order for their lives to take a very different and sometimes better turn. There is a real risk with such authors that the reader could become tired of the same old predictable framework and desert their works.

Streatfeild, however, always manages to keep things fresh; she does not only achieve this with the changes in setting (albeit usually performance-related settings) but also with various other details and characters. Her choices of names for the characters always seem to be inspired, too, suiting their owners down to the ground. While Santa is a frankly bizarre name for a little girl it is somehow made to fit her quite well and marks the book out as being just that little more unusual. 

Equally, Streatfeild offers insight into a less commonplace environment which perhaps does not fully exist in the same form today. Peter and Santa's lack of education up until this point would also not be found today in Britain given the various governmental regulations surrounding home schooling. We are therefore also given a slight relic of the UK as it was in days gone by, but Streatfeild's work is not only valuable as a museum piece: the characters are engaging and memorable, perhaps more consistently so than the storyline, and while it is perhaps not consistently strong enough throughout to be considered a children's classic in the same way as Ballet Shoes or White Boots, we find within its pages a brand of comfort reading that the whole family can enjoy.

Also a product of the books' and author's time is the innocent existence in which the children live (although this also perhaps comes down to the middle class environment where they are situated), which perhaps provides an increasingly sought-after dimension to literature, with adults not only wanting this for the purposes of their own nostalgia but also for the image they wish to project to their own children. Streatfeild's continued appeal is therefore unsurprising, with her stories' twists and turns, memorable characters, elements of a bygone age and her happy endings all keeping readers returning for more.

Other works by Noel Streatfeild

• Ballet Shoes (1936)
• Tennis Shoes (1937)
• Curtain Up (1944) (also published as: Theater Shoes)
• Party Frock (1946) (also published as: Party Shoes)
• The Painted Garden (1949) (significantly abridged and published in the U.S. as: Movie Shoes)
• White Boots (1951) (also published as: Skating Shoes)
• The Fearless Treasure (1953)
• The Bell Family (1954) (also published as: Family Shoes)
• Wintle's Wonders (1957) (also published as: Dancing Shoes)
• Apple Bough (1962) (also published as: Traveling Shoes)
• A Vicarage Family (1963)
• The Children on the Top Floor (1964)
• Away from the Vicarage (1965)
• The Growing Summer (1966) (also published as: The Magic Summer)
• Caldicott Place (1967) (also published as: The Family at Caldicott Place)
• The "Gemma" series (1968-9)
• Thursday's Child (1970)
• Beyond the Vicarage (1971)
• Ballet Shoes for Anna (1972)
• When the Siren Wailed (1974)
• Far To Go (1976) (a sequel to Thursday's Child)

Puligny-Montrachet: Journal of a Village in Burgundy (Simon Loftus)

--The blurb--

"The 1992 Wine Merchant of the Year describes one year in the life of a small wine-making village in Burgundy, discussing its ancient rivalries and political intrigues, its residents, and the rhythms of the agricultural year."

--The review--

There are plenty of expatriate enthusiasts sending missives from France who are more than ready to line our bookshelves and convince us that by the time we have got to the last page, we will be wine connoisseurs of the first order or ready to do up a derelict château in the middle of nowhere. Simon Loftus, however, is not one of these illusionists, presenting us with a down-to-earth and illusion-free account which is somehow still enchanting. This is even in spite of the fact that in the thirty or so years that have elapsed since the book's publication, some elements of the village life he describes may have changed a little.

Packed full of fascinating facts (including that Puligny-Montrachet has no underground cellars due to the water table causing them to flood should they be dug below ground), Loftus manages to engage his audience without patronising us by flying too low or losing us in technical jargon by flying too high. The production of the wine is fabulously intertwined with tales of the villages' inhabitants, which are enhanced even further by individual interview snippets conducted by Loftus. As if this were not enough, we are also treated visually with photographs, although in a more modern (perhaps hardback) edition there may be even more of a wow-factor with colour photographs (those in the paperback edition are black and white, although this also adds to the journal's more rustic feel).

The journal format also allows the story of the year's wine season to flow, building atmosphere and intimacy with success. It has been said that Loftus' book is not only the best story of French wine-making but also the best story of France in general, and this is certainly a convincing assessment - Loftus takes us all by the hand and leads us to meet the people, the village, the businesses, the landscapes, the produce, the language and the atmosphere with authenticity and vigour. Rich in detail, it also calls us back to reread the account again and again. While it may not convince readers that spending a summer of back-breaking physical labour in the form of harvesting grapes is the best idea, the journal is not here to sell us an untainted dream; Loftus leaves us with no false impressions of how difficult this work and this life can be. We are tourists, but of the best kind, as we are guided by perhaps one of the most honest accounts that there is, by a wine expert who also seems to be very much one of us.

Other works by Simon Loftus

A Pike In The Basement: Tales of a Hungry Traveller (2004)

Red Wines of Bordeaux (1988)

White Wines of Burgundy (with Jasper Morris; 1988)

Anatomy of the Wine Trade: Ade's Sardines and Other Stories (1987)

Update on books read (2011) - January/February

1. The Guermantes Way (Marcel Proust)
2. Whispers in the Graveyard (Theresa Breslin)
3. The Ritz London Book of Afternoon Tea (Helen Simpson)
4. Summertime (JM Coetzee) 

The Guermantes Way (Marcel Proust)

--The blurb--
"After the relative intimacy of the first two volumes of In Search of Lost Time, The Guermantes Way opens up a vast, dazzling landscape of fashionable Parisian life in the late nineteenth century, as the narrator enters the brilliant, shallow world of the literary and aristocratic salons. Both a salute to and a devastating satire of a time, place, and culture, The Guermantes Way defines the great tradition of novels that follow the initiation of a young man into the ways of the world."

--The review--

By this point in Proust's six-volume epic novel, the reader has already quashed around 1300 pages of prose. It being fair to say that these 1300 pages have not been especially accessible or easy to read, it is therefore also fair to say that the reader’s hopes are raised by the comparatively accessible beginning of The Guermantes Way. However, this effect sadly tapers.

This is reinforced by the volume's "War and Peace" quality, in the respect that the military and political discussion will be more enjoyable for some than for others. This aspect relies on prior knowledge and could inhibit understanding or enjoyment of this volume of the novel for those not in the know (including myself). Proust consequently risks losing his readers’ attention as a result.

However, there are some gleams in the night. Proust is masterful of the dry insult and witty comeback; even today, anyone with this power at their disposal is likely to be able to muddle through any situation life throws at them. The dialogue in this volume is also much more enjoyable than it has been in previous volumes, tension is managed well, and Mr Charlus also comes into his own as a great, amusing character. Could this prove to be some of the character development we have longed for during the reading of the past nearly two thousand pages?!

Alas, the author does not sustain this skilful depiction of character. The timing of the appearance of the grandfather for just about the first time in the entire novel means that he is unconvincing in his grief: Proust has not invested the time or energy in making us care about him by building up his character more. The author also continues to tell rather than show, with places remaining easy to visualise while people are not always so; this suggests that the author can describe well but chooses not to, which seems a highly bizarre trait to be attached to such a highly acclaimed novel.

There are other, more academic, points which make this volume interesting, perhaps as redemption for the above. Proust is metacritical, talking about the skills of authorship frequently. We have the fun of trying to work out if he is making Marcel deliberately ironic or just pretentious, and the deeper enjoyment of the volume being more like a work of philosophy in places than a work of fiction. The first slightly strange translation is also seen in this volume, with the word ‘formed’ being used for ‘educated’ or ‘trained’, as a sign of the translator or editor taking the French ‘former’ (to train or educate) or ‘formation’ (education or training) a little too literally.

By the end of this volume we are more or less halfway through the opus; we should be rolling along by now but to the contrary are still having to work hard. However, Proust still knows how to throw in a few details that mean we don’t just give up here. Is the doctor incompetent, or just wrong? And is the ending as predictable as the final sentences lead us to believe, or is there a massive twist coming? Here’s hoping for the latter.

Within A Budding Grove (Marcel Proust)

--The blurb--

"In this second volume of In Search of Lost Time, the narrator turns from the childhood reminiscences of Swann's Way to memories of his adolescence. Having gradually become indifferent to Swann's daughter Gilberte, the narrator visits the seaside resort of Balbec with his grandmother and meets a new object of attention—Albertine, "a girl with brilliant, laughing eyes and plump, matt cheeks.""

--The review--

As with volumes 1 and 3 of In Search of Lost Time, the second, Within A Budding Grove, is not without its merits and, in addition to the sheer beauty of the language used, again toys with some interesting semantic issues in the second part of the volume and confirms previous suspicions that Proust makes it easier for us to visualise places than people.

What is clear, though, is the growing irritation at Marcel's behaviour and personality that steadily increases throughout the volume. For want of a better phrase, the man acts like a total pansy; this act wears thin after several hundred pages. However, it could be argued that Proust cleverly replicates the maddening temperament that overtakes us all when in the sights of unrequited love. This makes the volume become quite blurry in its similarity, and while this dreamlike quality is perhaps Proust's trademark, it can make it difficult for the motivation to continue to be consistently maintained.

The politics of France at this time and of the high society that Marcel is beginning to be aware of and to inhabit are not laid on so heavily in this volume as in volume three; this is a blessing rather than a curse, as it, in its own special way, probably helps to render this volume more accessible.

Proust also successfully chronicles the nature of teenage obsession with certain interests and people; upon reading, we too are transported back to those same feelings of intensity, which are more important to us than Marcel’s specific situation. The word “Berma” could be replaced with any other word; this, if you like, is another in the sequence of the reader's own madeleine moments. Equally, there is relevance to be found in Marcel’s meeting with Bergotte, the author that he idolises; the idea that perhaps we should never meet our heroes is arguably ever truer in an increasingly celebrity-obsessed Western world.
Although Proust has had accusations of anti-Semitism levelled at him for his portrayal of Bloch and his family, this to me is unfounded; the impressions and opinions expressed here are likely an honest social portrait of the time, rather than setting out to be deliberately malicious. He, along with other authors such as Enid Blyton and Hergé, are to be valued rather than condemned for such representations; rather than making their work into nothing more than museum pieces, they are important living parts of history.
But in spite of all of these various positive aspects, the reader still longs for more movement in terms of characterisation and momentum in the plot, to match in some small way the massive voyage of self-discovery and mapping of history that is taking place. Really all that the reader has is the image of a character who is not enamoured with any specific female but whose attentions constantly flicker; in love with the idea of being in love, he comes across as little more than fickle and silly.
And yet it is perhaps this interior evolution of character which encourages the reader to continue; in spite of the volume's deep flaws, it is not enough to be completely off-putting.

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