End of the year thoughts

Well, it's the end of 2007 and I was feeling a bit dazed, as though I wasn't really aware that it was 2007 and now it almost isn't. Then I started to think about what I've done this year that makes it a memorable year, and I realise that I've packed quite a bit in.
I can't do the meme that is going around at the moment about how many books I've read and then break it down, as before August 9th I haven't a clue. Which is why, on August 9th, I started this blog.
I am terrible at remembering what I've read and thought this little space on the internet would help that, which it has. The unexpected and wonderful bonus is that I've met so many like-minded and friendly people while doing it, who just want to talk about the books they have read with people who understand, even if tastes differ, which makes me think starting this blog was the best thing I've done in 2007.
Other achievements - well the Nano novel has to be up there. After most of a life spent wanting to be a writer but through laziness never getting further than about fifty pages in any novel, to have a first draft of a short, imperfect and silly novel - but a finished one! - is pretty good. I am editing it now and would like to publish it this year. It will be Print On Demand, but I've survived and enjoyed being one of the reviled (by the mainstream press - not that I have yet understood why) book bloggers, so I'll survive and probably enjoy being one of the reviled (by the mainstream press etc) POD-people. I've also written a few ghost stories this year that I'm quite pleased with and would like to continue that in 2008.
Usually there will be one or two books that I can point to and say - well this year was worthwhile if only because I read that.
2005 was a bumper year with The Name of the Rose, such a brilliant book, and Tristram Shandy which, if I have to pick a favourite novel, is it without a doubt.
2006 it was Moby Dick. So much writing about this book is about how difficult the language is and how everyone hates the whaling bits; why does no one say it's one of the most wonderful, funny, moving and interesting books ever written? Well, there I've said it.
This year is difficult. There hasn't been a book that has blown me away, a classic that I've thought 'why did I wait all these years to read this?'
I enjoyed Sweeney Todd an awful lot; although it's not really a classic, it is certainly memorable. I couldn't understand why there were so many Google searches for it in my stats though, such interest in a penny dreadful!- until it dawned on me that it was because of the film, d'uh.
There has also been Wendell Berry, though, who, with Jayber Crow, restored my faith in living writers. Gentle, beautiful, it's a book that I can still feel, if that makes any sense. This book should be sold in bookshops in the UK, I don't understand why it's not. And I suppose that brings me to a minor good thing done in 2007, subscribing to Slightly Foxed, without which I would never have heard of Wendell Berry.
With that and other book bloggers, my reading taste has become more varied, thanks all.
Finally, although looking out at the soggy mess I'm not sure I can call it an achievement, there is the work I started on the garden this year. I am feeling excited about gardening again; the memories of plagues of snails and the rain that would not stop has faded, and I am hopeful that we will have an idyllic, pest-free summer that will see us eating our own vegetables. And, perhaps, fruit as I think I'd like to plant an apple tree at least this year.
This point of the year is wonderful as everything is possible, and that goes for the books as well. All in all, after 2007, I'm looking forward to 2008!

Dearly Devoted Dexter by Jeff Lindsay

I am not a reader of serial killer books, as I have mentioned before. I also don't particularly like watching them on TV or films if they are too realistic unless well shrouded by the mists of time, such as stories about Jack the Ripper; I know these things do occasionally happen, but prefer to forget about them and not spend my nights awake and fearful, imagining noises downstairs.
Dexter is the exception. This particular serial killer has won a place in my heart, firstly from the TV series and then, as I enjoyed it so much, from the book Darkly Dreaming Dexter. His narration of his life, the calm acceptance of the fact that he is a monster not a human, his wry observations on the people he comes into contact with and descriptions of his murders are very entertaining to read.
Dexter is a serial killer with a difference, fostered by Harry, a cop who realised what he was, he was trained to be careful and only allow his need to kill, his 'dark passenger', to be unleashed on those who truly deserve it, those who kill innocents but who the police can't catch. This is the Code of Harry and Dexter follows it religiously.
Dearly Devoted Dexter (published by Orion, ISBN 9780752877884) picks up where the last book left off and Dexter is, as usual, having fun with his dark passenger and tracking down and disposing of a child killer. He realises that the job is not over though as the murderer had an accomplice who photographed the scenes of torture and he needs to track him down also and finish the job neatly, before the man realises his partner has disappeared and is scared into hiding.
Here Dexter hits a problem. Sergeant Doakes, who works at the same precinct where Dexter works as a blood spatter expert, is suspicious of Dexter and begins to follow him day and night; a detective trailing behind is somewhat hampering for a serial killer. So Dexter is forced to chain up his dark passenger and spend the evenings pretending to be normal with his girlfriend Rita, playing hangman with her two children, Astor and Cody.
'All very idyllic. Our perfect little family of Rita, the kids and Monster makes four. But no matter how many stick figures we executed, it did nothing to kill my worry that time was gurgling rapidly down the drain and soon I would be a white haired old man, too feeble to lift a carving knife, shadowed by an ancient Sergeant Doakes and a sense of missed opportunity.'
The situation is changed by the introduction of the book's main serial killer (apart from Dexter) who takes up all the energies of Doakes, and Dexter and his foster sister Deborah.
The second series of Dexter has not made it to the UK yet, but I understand that it does not follow the story of this book in the way the first series followed the Ice Truck Killer story. For a start in this book Debs knows Dexter's secret and is trying to accept him for what he is, which I liked, but the end of the first TV series suggested that she does not realise what Dexter is yet. And then there are the bodies in this book; I can understand why they would want to have a different story as the serial killer's work would be hard to recreate and is extremely gruesome.
He is nicknamed Dr Danco, after a machine that chopped vegetables: 'it slices, it dices'- Danco dismembers his victims, removing all limbs and facial features but does not kill them, a horrifying fate and one which would be quite difficult to televise.
Maybe my sense of disgust has been dulled by video games as I read the description of the victim to my husband and he was appalled, although he plays the same games as me so perhaps there is just something wrong with me- it didn't affect me. I think this is the main point about the Dexter books, though; they are witty, well written and very enjoyable but they are not real. This is not a book that makes you double check that the doors are locked at night, Dexter is a fantasy and that is why I enjoy them so much and even at times can identify with a character who is, after all, a cold-blooded killer. Yes he is, but he is struggling with many of the same predicaments as non-killers, imagining that he is the only one who cannot deal with it because of his lack of emotions, such as the horrific party that Vince Masuoka throws for him where he is duct-taped to a chair while a couple of strippers rubbed themselves against him and his colleagues watched leeringly. While it might be some men's idea of a good time, I know a few who would find it extremely unpleasant.
There are also some attractive qualities to Dexter, such as his loyalty to Debs his sister: even though he claims not to have human feelings he constantly goes above and beyond the call of duty for her and they are closer than many adult siblings. His lack of fear is another quality, knowledge of what he is about to face, which would get most people running in the opposite direction, has him happily walking into the monsters' lairs.
'"Why would he run now?"
"Wouldn't you run if you knew Danco was after you?"
"No," I said, thinking happily of what I might actually do if I came face-to-face with the Doctor. "I would set some kind of trap for him, and let him come." And then, I thought, but did not say aloud to Deborah.'
I enjoyed this as much as the first, it is a good sequel, light and easy to read, and I was pleased to see it in a mainstream bookshop in the UK.

Christmas books

I hope everyone has had a happy few days whatever you spent Christmas doing. J and I spent time with our families which was very nice, and were spoiled with too many presents. Among them I received a small pile of books:She Literally Exploded is a collection of phrases that set the teeth of readers of the Daily Telegraph on edge; I read through a number before Christmas lunch and was pleased to see that I am not alone in being annoyed by a number of sayings. My pet peeve was included: 'growing the business' - I hate that phrase! You do not grow businesses, you grow geraniums.
A couple of books of hints for the kitchen look interesting. The vinegar one is especially intriguing. Apparently you can do 1,000 more things with it than put it on your chips!
A couple of little books were Coffee with... Plato and Oscar Wilde. These are biographies presented as conversations with the men in question. I am not sure if I will like the style but they will be interesting. And if anyone has the right to write a book as though Oscar Wilde wrote it, then it is his grandson, Merlin Holland.
The book Devil Cat is a series of cartoons showing the thoughts of a cat in response to his owner's love and affection, such as a feeling of love for his owner until the full food bowl hits the floor and then the cat goes off her. It is very amusing and I am sure quite an accurate portrayal of what goes through my own cat's mind, but I was surprised to see that it is classed as non-fiction on the back cover - obviously a cat owner decided on the classification!
My brother, who knows my interest in the occult, also bought me The Cat in Myth and Magic, which I am looking forward to reading, and The Dead Travel Fast an account of the author's attempt to understand the place of the vampire in our society by, among other things, mixing with people who say they are vampires. I think I will read that very soon.
The bustle of Christmas was fine, although I think my favourite part was the quiet Christmas day evening, when J and I returned home. As he slept off the lunch, I sat by the fire and read Master Humphrey's Clock, listening to Radio 3's repeat of a prom. It was very peaceful and I even had the good fortune to read Humphrey's description of a Christmas Day on Christmas Day, which was perfect.
I am now trying to read as much as possible in the quiet period between now and New Year, and the dreaded return to work. I am currently reading a collection of stories by Gertrude Atherton, a writer who was a protege of Ambrose Bierce and an admirer of Henry James. I have to say I see more James in them than Bierce, but they are very good stories nevertheless.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Just to be perverse, I have eventually picked up a different Dickens from the ones I was considering and am reading Master Humphrey's Clock; I was enticed by the opportunity to spend another Christmas with Mr Pickwick and Sam Weller.
I hope everyone I have met here in the blog world over the past few months has a lovely Christmas (or holiday if you don't celebrate it). Now I'm going back to present wrapping!
But just before, here is something I liked from The Folio Book of the English Christmas: this is how Queen Victoria spent Christmas Day at Windsor Castle in 1850.

25th December. The return of this blessed season must always fill one with gratitude & with the deepest devotion to Our Lord & Saviour! May God grant that we may all see many happy returns of this great Festival. We walked with the Children to the Kennels, where I gave the good little McDonalds toys & stuff for dresses. The day was beautiful but almost too mild for Christmas! Service at 11. Went several times to look at my beautiful presents. The trees were lit up in the evening, & the Children were all playing about so happily. Mama, &c - the Phippses, Mrs Grey, Mrs Bouverie, Gen. Wemyss, Mr Wellesley, Mr Birch, Mr Glover & Meyer, dined. The 2 little girls and Affie appeared during dinner, & the others, after.

Christmas preparations

Christmas is coming up fast. It was my last day at work yesterday and this is the bit of Christmas I really love, being at home during the run-up. The weather is shaping up for a traditional English Christmas, sort of mild and murky, with enough rain to make things damp but not clean so all the paths are covered in a layer of muddy slime. I miss Boston's snow!
Today I have been doing something quite unusual for this house - I have been tidying and cleaning the living room to make it a bit more pleasant over Christmas, so we can actually walk across the floor rather than stepping over things. I think people who clean and tidy their houses on a regular basis miss one of the joys of life, the satisfaction of seeing something you had got used to being murky grey suddenly regain the colour it once had. Things have got bad this past year because of the work we've been doing in the house; everywhere is permanently covered in dust and my husband tends to use the living room as a makeshift workshop. We also have a cat who seems to shed his own body weight in hair everyday and, being black and white, it mixes into miserable grey clumps, which doesn't help.
Today I cleaned and hoovered and tidied until I was pretty well exhausted. Then I collapsed into an armchair by our little Christmas tree with a warm cup of gluwhein, and a pile of seed catalogues. I have high hopes for the garden next year.My reading has gone off-course; instead of reading the Le Fanu yesterday I read half of the next Dexter book, which I came across while Christmas shopping on Wednesday, Dearly Devoted Dexter by Jeff Lindsay. Christmas is a time for a bit of self-indulgence, and these books about the serial killer who kills serial killers are easy enjoyable reading. So I think I'll go and finish it now, and then tomorrow pick up Dickens for the proper Christmas read. I hope everyone else's preparations are going well.

The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I have divided feelings about this book. Part of me was swept away with the romanticism, the pain of unrequited love and the intensity of Werther's feelings about his life. The rest of me felt that he really should just pull himself together.
The edition I read was a Penguin Red, (ISBN: 0-141-02344-9) and I have to get a niggle out of the way. I do not like the cover. To me the book looks like a piece of Chick Lit; reading this on the train I felt like I wanted to stand up and announce to the carriage 'actually I'm reading Goethe'! I suspect it is an attempt to attract a new audience, but wonder how successful a cover alone can be.
The novel is one of the major Sturm und Drang works, and is a whirlwind of emotion that can be quite exhausting to read. Werther is a young man who feels far too much, as he himself realises. He is sensitive and artistic and finds others who are not similarly sensitive painful to be with.
Werther has escaped to the country to be by himself and writes letters about his life there to his friend Wilhelm. We never see Wilhelm's responses but from some of the comments Werther directs to him it appears that he is more down to earth, proffering sensible advice that Werther usually declines to take.
The trouble begins when Werther meets the beautiful and intelligent Lotte, a young woman who is on Werther's wavelength. When they walk together, or talk, they both feel the same things. She lives up to Werther's almost impossible ideals and he falls hopelessly in love with her. It appears that, to a extent at least, she reciprocates his feelings but she does not admit this as she is already betrothed to another man, Albert.
The book follows Werther's downward spiral as he attempts to tear himself away from Lotte and to enter the real world with little success. Working for an ambassador, Werther is appalled by the people he is forced to interact with, their naked ambition and lack of soul.

'...the tedium of these awful people cooped up together here! and their greed for rank, and the way they are forever watchful and alert for gain or precedence: the most abominable of passions, quite nakedly displayed.'

He is soon drawn back to Lotte to live out his private tragedy, being close to the woman he loves but cannot have, spending almost everyday with her and Albert.
The book is beautiful even in translation; in particular there are some wonderful descriptions, such as this scene early on before Werther's life is turned upside down by the introduction to Charlotte:

'When the vapours rise about me in this lovely valley, and the sun shines high on the impenetrable darkness of my forest, and only single rays steal into the inner sanctum, and I lie on the long grass by the tumbling brook, and lower down, close to the earth, I am alerted to the thousand various little grasses; when I sense the teeming of the little world among the stalks, the countless indescribable forms of the grubs and flies, closer to my heart, and feel the presence of the Almighty who created us in His image, the breath of the All-loving who bears us aloft in perpetual joy and holds us there.'

At the end though, I feel it is a book that I should have read earlier in my life. I have had periods of unrequited love, like most people I suspect, and I imagine that this would have meant so much more to me when in the throes of it.
This was the effect on readers at the time, and Goethe was plagued by the book, which he wrote at twenty-four, throughout his life; he said that if Werther had been a brother he had murdered he could not more effectively haunt him. However, although he might have distanced himself from it as he grew older, Goethe realised how powerful it was for those experiencing similar emotions and that they would feel that it spoke to them specifically.
I think this is how I feel about it in the end, I know it will be more meaningful for other readers but I am somewhat distanced from it at this settled stage of my life: I was a spectator of Werther's sorrows, rather than a participant.

Boston adventures part one: Different bookstores

The first day was travelling, and was very long. Two hours on the train to London, across to Heathrow, umpteen security checks for the men in the party (not me though, I must look innocent) and then a six hour flight to Boston. I read most of The Sorrows of Young Werther on the way which I will write about separately.
This trip was me, my husband and my brother going to Boston to meet up with my parents who already in America and were to arrive from New York the next day.
I think I mentioned the other day that the cold I have had recently has affected my hearing and the flight really knocked it out, which made it a little difficult at security as I couldn't hear what the security guard was saying to me. However, we made it to the hotel in the end.
The next day the sight-seeing began and the three of us went to find the Globe Corner bookstore which looked lovely in the guidebook. On the way there we came across a second hand bookstore called Commonwealth Books, in the basement of the Old South Meeting House. There was shelf after shelf of lovely old books, so it was difficult to know where to start. I found a very nice two volume edition of Hawthorne's French and Italian Notebooks from the end of the nineteenth century and in very good condition. I wanted to buy something by a New England author so this suited very well.
I also picked up a book just because it looked interesting, Dr Bowdler's Legacy: A history of expurgated books by Noel Perrin. The bookshop staff were very friendly and they ship overseas, so I will be checking out their website.Then we came out and saw a Borders across the street. I've never been in one of these stores before so we went in. It was big but to be honest just reminded me of Waterstones. J picked up a book about the restaurants in Boston while I found a couple of local ghost books: Ghosts of Boston Town by Holly Mascott Nadler, a nice book about Boston ghosts, which include Edith Wharton, and Spooky New England: Tales of hauntings, strange happenings and other local lore retold by S E Schlosser. This appears to be more folk tales than straight hauntings and is a good complement to the other book.Out of Borders we had an extended period of consultation over map and compass between J and my brother about the whereabouts of the Globe Corner Bookstore. They were convinced we were in the right place and they were right, as we realised that the jewellery store in front of us was the building shown in the guidebook. The bookstore was no longer there.
We then walked across Boston Common and saw about a million squirrels, including one area where they appeared to be massing an army. We also saw children ice-skating on the Frog Pond which was lovely.After a prolonged walk around the Back Bay area I suggested we stop for something to eat in a cafe. J was very suspicious and took some convincing that it really was a cafe, as it was also a bookstore - The Trident Bookstore. He was happier when I told him it was in the DK Top Ten book as one of the top ten cafes. We had a nice lunch there and then I had a quick look round the bookstore part. It is a large independent bookshop with a good selection of titles but I didn't buy anything.
So on the first day in Boston I experienced three different types of Boston bookstore: second-hand, independent and large chain. I hope they continue to co-exist.

Back in England

We're back from Boston. It's a lovely city, there was loads of snow and I came back with a nice pile of books:
I will write more about our trip, what we saw and the books I got over the next few days. While there I read The Sorrows of Young Werther by Goethe, and began The House by the Churchyard by Sheridan Le Fanu, which I need to try and finish in the next few days, because it will be time to pick my Christmas Dickens. At the moment I'm torn between The Old Curiosity Shop, especially as there's going to be an ITV production of it over Christmas, or Sketches by Boz.
We got back yesterday afternoon to a quite extraordinary reception from the cat who came trotting up to us, squeaking like a kitten. We expected to have the grand huff treatment but we were obviously away long enough for him to miss us. However, we suspect he spent most of the time away like this, as there is a suspicious patch of black fur on the duvet.While J slept off his jetlag, I watched rubbish on TV thankfully free of adverts for presidential candidates - I love the way each advert for a candidate ends with 'my name is x, and I approve this message.' I was waiting for one they didn't approve of.
I was so zonked out yesterday I watched Hart to Hart for the first time since I was little and I loved it. It's no Columbo, but mindless fun, which is what you need when you're jet-lagged. I have the theme tune on the brain now. Then it was bed at nine which meant I missed the MR James BBC 4 showed last night. However, tonight it's Number 13 and it's on at a reasonable time - ten o'clock I think.
So now it's back to reality: a couple of days off before a couple of days work and then Christmas, for which I haven't yet bought everyone's presents. Oh dear.

Intermission

I won't be blogging for the next few days - back next week.

Happy reading!

To the Devil a Daughter by Dennis Wheatley

This book is considered one of Wheatley's best and I would have to agree; it is a magnificent occult thriller with little of the bigotry that marred Toby Jugg. My edition is from Wordsworth Editions' Mystery and Supernatural list (ISBN: 978-1-84022-544-0); I am glad they managed to work things out with Wheatley's estate to publish these, and hope more will be published in the future.
The story begins with a writer of spy thrillers, Molly Fountain, sitting at the window of her Riviera villa staring out at the young woman who has just moved in to the villa next door and wondering what her story is. She never has any visitors and only ever leaves the villa at night.
Molly decides to use the excuse that they are both English to go and visit her and soon discovers that there is indeed a terrible mystery about the young girl, Christina. Her father has hidden her in this villa and told her on no account to contact him or to see anyone, and she must stay there until after her twenty-first birthday. Why this should be is a mystery to the girl, but Molly notices some odd things about her, such as the way in which Molly's dog reacts to the sight of her, cowering and whimpering with fear.
With the arrival of Molly's son, John, the story takes off as he spends time with Christina and realises that after dark she takes on a completely different personality, lively and seductive, with little care for anything, a big change from the shy awkward young girl he was introduced to in the day. While Christina is in this mood they run into an old friend of her father's at the casino, Canon Copely-Syle. The Canon is in the company of the Marquis de Grasse - a man whom Molly knows to be one of the most evil in France. When the Canon tells Christina that her father has been terribly injured in a car accident and that she must accompany him back to England, their suspicions are raised about the benign-seeming Canon and his crooked friends, and Molly and John decide to keep Christina out of their clutches, hampered slightly by the fact that after dark Christina is quite happy to go off with the Marquis' handsome young son.
They also uncover the reason for Christina's mood swings and realise that this is more than just a case of the kidnapping of an heiress.
'As she finished speaking she threw the thing she was holding towards Christina's lap, and cried, "Catch!"
Christina cupped hands and caught the spinning object. It was a small gold crucifix. The second it fell into her palms she gave a scream of pain. Then, as though seared by white-hot metal, she thrust it from her.
"I feared as much!" Molly said grimly. "And now we know the worst! Every night when darkness falls, you become possessed by the devil!"'
However, as it turns out, this is far from the worst and with the arrival of CB, an old friend of Molly's from her time working for the Secret Service during the war, and his vast knowledge of the Occult and Satanists, they unravel the plot against Christina and discover exactly what it is that the Canon has in mind for her.
This is an incredibly exciting thriller, which keeps you on the edge of your seat as Molly, John and CB attempt to rescue Christina from the Canon's clutches. It is also another example of Wheatley's research as the details of the satanist practices are fully convincing. In one part of the story when CB is talking to the Canon to attempt to trick him into disclosing his evil intentions they have a long discussion about Aleister Crowley. Then Syle mentions another occultist that he knew, Mocata - who is the main character in Wheatley's The Devil Rides Out (and incidentally was based on Crowley). The stories of the fictional and real Occultists merge seamlessly and help to create the impression that this is a very real, if rarely seen, side of the world we are dealing with.
Copely Syle is a great villain, he is completely obsessed with his grotesque vision for the world but he is not mad; he is very intelligent and very evil. The purpose that Syle needs Christina for is quite grotesque and I won't spoil the story by saying what it is. The book is a lot of fun and I enjoyed it immensely, I can highly recommend it to anyone who has a taste for the occult, or who just likes to read an exciting thriller now and again.

Seven things meme

I've picked this meme up from Of Books and Bicycles, and I've seen it on a few other people's pages and thought I'd give it a go. Mainly, I must admit, because I am feeling a bit uninspired about what to write at the moment. I have had a cold for the past week and a half which has knocked my hearing funny so I'm spending most of my time when I'm not at work resting on the sofa in front of Columbo - very nice, but not conducive to reading things to write about here.

So - seven random or weird things about me:
1 - The thing that makes this list a bit of a problem: I have very little shame and generally will tell most people just about anything about myself as I don't particularly care about appearances. For instance, although you'd think a thirty-five year old woman might keep it quiet at work that she plays World of Warcraft to preserve her professionalism, most of my colleagues know about my other life and pity me accordingly. So it is difficult to think of things that aren't too personal for this meme that I won't have already shared here over the past few months.
2- I fell in love with Dirk Bogarde when I was fifteen and still feel the same twenty years later. He was perfection.
3 - I would rather miss a train than run for it. I do sometimes run for the train, but always regret it afterwards, whether I catch it or not.
4 - Two of my WoW avatars are named after characters from Sheridan Le Fanu stories: Maud (from Uncle Silas) and Carmilla from the story of the same name.
5 - I have admitted before that I love Girls of the Playboy Mansion (US: Girls Next Door) - see what I mean about having no shame? But I haven't admitted that I have a favourite one of Heff's girlfriends. It's Holly - although Bridget and Kendra are great too.
6 - I can't tell left from right - I have to stick my hands out in front of me and look at which hand my wedding ring is on to know which is which (before I got married I used my watch).
7 - I once fell asleep through a production of Hamlet - I went to sleep in the scene in Gertrude's bedroom, when I woke up everyone was dead. I was a first year student studying Theatre and was very tired. The best bit was that I was sat a row in front of five of my tutors, including the Head of Department! I've also fallen asleep during Les Miserables but that was because I was bored.

On to anyone else!

Christmas shopping

Christmas is coming up very fast, and I am beginning to feel the pressure - I have to make sure all the Christmas presents are bought and wrapped and cards sent. There have been a number of years when my christmas cards will have dropped on people's doormats sometime after Boxing Day, and this year is likely to be the same; I am not a naturally organised person, it requires a great deal of effort to get these things done.

Today I decided to take a break from buying presents for other people and looked at a charity shop's bookshelves for presents for me. I didn't come away empty-handed, of course. The first book I homed in on was an absolute must, with my particular taste: The Ghosts of Virginia by L B Taylor Jr.

It is another of these books of local true ghost stories which I love; I'm not sure why this American one would be in a shop in Yorkshire but it looks very interesting. It is a chunky book, and I was surprised to note that it is Volume 8! - Virginia obviously has a lot of ghostly goings on. It is good to see that these books are not just a British thing, and I willl be on the look out for a Boston edition when we go away.
I also picked up a couple of older books: first this very pretty edition of The Coral Island by R M Ballantyne, a piece of Victorian children's fiction. It was presented to a previous owner as a Sunday School prize back in 1922.

Finally a first edition, which is nice but not by an author I have ever heard of, I am afraid to say: Ride a Tiger by Douglas Orgill - written in 1963. This was me indulging my occasional fancy for thrillers; I have no idea what it will be like.
This little spending spree means that, despite getting through quite a few books last week, my to-be-read tag on Librarything is back to over 450. A work colleague mentioned the other day that they have a whole twenty books at home which they need to get round to reading; when I admitted how many I had piled up waiting for me, I was advised to take early retirement to get through them. It's a very nice idea, but at 35 years old I'm not sure there will be enough in my pension fund yet to keep me.

An Essay on the Art of Ingeniously Tormenting by Jane Collier

This eighteenth century book of instruction (my edition was published by the Oxford World's Classics ISBN:978-0192805522) describes the most effective ways to gain pleasure from tormenting and teasing your fellow creatures, with this as the guiding precept: 'Remember always to do unto everyone, what you would least wish to have done unto yourself.' It is a wicked satire and very funny, even at this distance of over two hundred years.

The first half of the book concentrates on how to effectively torment those people over whom you are in a position of power, such as servants or dependents. It may seem from this that the book is just a historical curiosity, a satire on human relationships that are no longer commonplace and will not mean anything to the modern reader. However, trust me, most people will recognise a number of the traps and tricks that the wise instructor advises her pupils to play on those dependants - just translate being a mistress of servants into being a manager in an office, for instance, and you may well have come across someone proficient in this art!
The second half of the book is for those who may not be in a formal position of power, but hold power over people by virtue of the love or friendship they have for you, such as a doting husband or a friend. It is mainly aimed at women, but the author is careful to point out that men can pick some of the tricks and use them themselves in comparable situations.
Here are some useful tips I have culled from the book if you are thinking of taking up the hobby of tormenting:
- Pick a favourite among your servants (substitute members of staff for the twenty-first century) - make sure that it is the most mean-spirited, lazy and catty one of them and then they will torment the other members of staff on your behalf. When you show favour to this person, you will also be very effectively tormenting the others.
- Praise your servant (again substitute as above) very highly the first time they do a task. Thereafter, never praise their work, but always compare it unfavourably to the first time and complain that they no longer care about their work or making an effort to get things right, as they did at first.
- If you have children these are excellent tools for tormenting - ensure they are brought up with the utmost indulgence and allowed anything they want, so that they will torment people for you; if you don't have children then a small pet such as a spoilt cat or dog will work just as well.
- If you are on a trip with your boyfriend or husband and some friends, ensure that you are very enthusiastic about the trip, but then abruptly take offence at one of the suggestions of something to do and refuse to go with the others, making sure that you are so upset that no one is able to enjoy themselves. Also develop headaches at opportune moments to ruin everyone's plans.
Collier describes the ways in which romances can be destroyed at an early stage by ensuring that the wrong words are said:

'If you know of any little failings that she has, that she would wish to conceal (at least, till she had rendered herself, by many real good qualities, so much esteemed by her lover, that if he was a good natured man, he would forgive them), be sure to bring them all out before him as soon as possible, in hopes of preventing any violent attachment. This has sometimes been practised with success, even among the men; for I once knew a match entirely broken off (and the man was almost distracted for the loss of his mistress) only by his friend's saying to him, before the lady, "I wish you was hanged, Jack; for you kept me awake all last night by your confounded snoring."'

Be warned, this book is not about nice, kind people; it shows the petty, nasty side of human nature, the way people can pick and tear at those who care about them out of nothing more than perversity. The tormentor is likened at the end of the book to a cat playing with a mouse, except that the cat does the mouse the justice of eventually putting it out of its misery.
As a piece of social history it is very interesting; the book illustrates the relationships and structures of eighteenth century society well. The relationship between mistress and servant, for instance, can be gleaned form the descriptions of how to torment them. Also the subservient role of companions is described, which must be one of the most unenviable positions of the time - too poor to be regarded as one of the mistresses but not allowed to mix with the servants, the companion is shown in the book to be on the receiving end of unpleasantness from both.
An interesting fact was that poor dependent friends were known as 'toad-eaters': called after the boys of mountebanks who would eat toads to show their master's expertise at expelling poison, with the idea that dependents would do the most disgusting things if requested, in order to please their benefactor.
However, as well this historical aspect to the book, there are more than enough instances of the way in which people interact that are recognisable now to show that human nature, or at least one of the more petty sides of it, has not changed so very much over the past two hundred years.

A description of, and letters by, Montague Summers

Still on the quest for evidence that Montague Summers might be the inspiration for M R James' character of Karswell, or the Abbott of Lufford as he was known, in Casting the Runes, but part of me is beginning to think I may be on a wild goose chase. The index for James' published collection of letters does not contain an entry for Summers (the index is published in Ghosts and Scholars), although it may be that James did not want to openly attribute the character of Karswell to Summers, or did not think it important to write about it to these particular friends. I intend to get hold of this collection in any case, as I would like to read James' letters.
Also, I have come across a couple of letters by Summers printed in a literary journal in 1960. You can read them here [apologies - I've just realised you need a subscription to the site to read the letters. I'll leave the link up for anyone accessing it from an academic institution as they may have a subscription]; they discuss his work on a book on Gothic authors and in particular a chapter on Matthew Lewis, the author of The Monk.
They are interesting in themselves but very polite and mild mannered - hardly the sort of letter one would expect from James' description in the beginning of Casting the Runes of the angry letters Karswell wrote to the learned society. In these letters, Summers is a little critical of some other's attempts at a biography of Lewis but hardly vitriolic.
However, these letters are just one small side of the character of Summers, and this description of Montague Summers and of a weekend Dennis Wheatley and his wife spent with him (described in the Wordsworth edition introduction to Wheatley's To the Devil a Daughter by Anthony Lejeune) leads me to think I should not quite give up hope just yet of finding a definite link.

'Summers dressed, and (with white curls hanging down the sides of his face) looked, like a Restoration bishop. After dining with the Wheatleys, he asked them for the weekend to his house in the country. The ceiling of their bedroom featured a great number of large spiders, which seemed about to drop on them. Dennis squashed as many as he could into bloody blotches, but an uncomfortable army remained, scurrying and impending all night. In the garden Joan Wheatley came across the biggest toad she had ever seen, a creature which Summers afterwards told another visitor was the reincarnation of an old friend whom he was feeding and protecting.
After dinner he took Dennis into a small room on the ground floor which had nothing in it except piles of books. Picking up a small volume he held it out and said: "Now this is very rare and I can let you have it for fifty pounds; only fifty pounds." (the equivalent of between two and three thousand pounds now).
"I did not recognise the title," recalled Dennis in his autobiography, "and did not want it and could not have afforded to buy it anyhow. I politely excused myself by saying that I no longer collected that type of book, Never have I seen such a complete change of expression. From having been normally benign his face suddenly became positively demoniac. Throwing down the book he stamped furiously out of the room."'

I am going to read this Dennis Wheatley book now as research to see if there are any similarities between the main character, who was most certainly based on Summers, and that of M R James' Karswell. Now isn't that a good reason for a bit of self-indulgent reading!

A Rogue's Life by Wilkie Collins

A Rogue's Life is published in a very attractive edition by the Hesperus Press (ISBN 1-84391-132-9).
In his Introductory Words, Wilkie Collins says the 'the Rogue may claim two merits at least in the eyes of the new generation - he is never serious for two moments together and"he doesn't take long to read."'
While this is true, it is somewhat underplaying the merits of the rogue. This is described as a picaresque novel and at first it certainly is. We follow the Rogue of the title, Frank Softly, on his journey through life facing ups and downs of an amusing and charming nature.
He is in the unfortunate position of having been born into a family which is too grand for him to take on honest work that would suit his character, but not rich enough to support him without work. He soon flies the nest having upset his family by becoming a caricaturist.
This is a novel for amusement, not social realism, and when Frank is thrown into debtor's prison quite early in his adventures, he is quite happy. We have no scenes of the horrors of Newgate, such as are found in Dickens. Frank settles down and instantly begins to caricature his fellow inmates.
This leads to a contretemps with one Gentleman Jones, an extremely polite member of the prison, but one unable to see the humour in Frank's drawings.

'I was in my room alone, designing the new print, when there came a knock at the door, and Gentleman Jones walked in. I got up and asked what the devil he wanted. He smiled, and turned up his long wristbands.

"Only to give you a lesson in politeness," said Gentleman Jones.

"What do you mean, sir? How dare you - ?"

The answer was a smart slap on the face. I instantly struck out in a state of fury - was stopped with great neatness - and received in return a blow on the head which sent me down onto the carpet half-stunned.'

Frank receives a similar lesson in morals the next evening and profits from them marvellously, thereafter crediting Gentleman Jones with giving him the only useful education of his life.
We follow Frank through some more adventures as he leaves prison and makes his way, profiting from his uncle's strange will; this uncle shamed his family by making a fortune at trade, and left the reversion of three thousand pounds to Frank's sister, as long as Frank outlives their grandmother. His sister's avaricious husband is thereafter extremely solicitous for Frank's health, which leads to some of the most amusing scenes in the book as his grandmother constantly evades death.
The episodic style does not continue throughout the book; although an early example of his work, it is still a Wilkie Collins novel we are reading and with the introduction of the beautiful Alicia, whom Frank falls instantly in love with, and her father the sinister Dr Dulcifer, we are in the familiar territory of suspense. What are the experiments that the doctor performs in the top of his house strangely shut off from the rest of the building? Why won't the neighbours call on him? And why is Alicia so afraid?
The story gallops on at a pace, it is easy to see why it was a hit with the subscribers of Household Words. It is funny, suspenseful, and heartwarming.
It was one of Wilkie Collins' favourites of his own stories. Although not as intricate as his later novels, with all their twists and turns, and written in a simple style, the book is full of the joy of life. Frank Softly is quiet easily the most likeable character in any Wilkie Collins novel I have read and this is a book that I will read again and again on days when I need to smile.