The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins

The Moonstone is a powerful, inventive and intriguing tale, one that is sure to keep the reader turning the pages.

First published in 1868,  it is, in a way, a precocious post-modern novel in so much as it mixes up novelistic genres.  Simultaneously a detective story, an almost gothic romance and a social critique, it shifts its complexion in a chameleon-like manner in the course of the unfolding events.

A holy gem, the Moonstone, has been stolen from India by a British Army officer and brought back to England.  According the terms of his will, it is to be presented to his niece Rachel Verinder on her next birthday.  And so Rachel receives the diamond, valued at £20,000, but it goes missing on the night of her birthday party.  Suspicion falls on several characters, relationships fracture and death soon follows.

The Moonstone is almost an epistolary novel, being told through extensive written accounts (rather than through letters) by key players in the mystery.  The first half of the novel is told by Gabriel Betteredge, the head servant of the Verinder household.  He introduces us to most of the characters who have a bearing on proceedings.  The second half of the book is told by several other characters, and it contains the solution to the whereabouts of the diamond.

The point of view throughout the book shifts frequently, either because of reported speech or because of a change of narrator.  This adds to the complexity of the tale and the manner in which information is provided to both the characters and the reader.  All are kept on their toes, guessing and second-guessing.

The Pickwick Papers by Charles Darwin

The Pickwick Papers is the rambling account of the adventures and misadventures of Samuel Pickwick, a supposedly learned man of independent means, and his feckless little band of well-to-do friends.  The action takes place around 1827 in London and its nearby counties.

The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club (to give it its proper title) is the first of Charles Dickens fifteen novels.  It was originally published in twenty installments during 1836-37.  As Dickens was writing and publishing it chapter by chapter, the early part of the novel has very little structure, being mostly a collection of tenuously linked vignettes.  It is not until second half of the book that some kind of story arc beings to develop, strands of narrative are pulled together, and farce, burlesque and genial buffoonery give way to a more considered exploration of characters and events.

Despite its defects, The Pickwick Papers is an enjoyable book.  This is mainly because of the proliferation of absolutely memorable characters that grace its pages.  Foremost amongst these is Sam Weller, who makes his appearance a quarter of the way into the novel.  A man of native cunning, Sam becomes a Sancho Panza to the unworldly Mr Pickwick's Don Quixote.  When the latter gets into strife, it is Sam who repeatedly comes to the rescue. Tony Weller, Sam's father, is no less memorable, and the banter between these two is hilarious and endearing.  Also in the mix are the idiosyncratic Alfred Jingle, a strolling actor and teller of tale tales, and his side-kick Job Trotter; and Dodson and Fogg, two opportunistic and highly questionable lawyers.

The Pickwick Papers is a long book, and its first quarter is of a mediocre quality (apart from the antics of Alfred Jingle);  however, if the one has patience enough to hang in there until the arrival of Sam Weller, it is well worth the effort.

Sam Weller was such a popular character with Dickens' contemporaries that people even began making their own Sam Weller jokes - Wellerisms as they are now known.  If they were not invented by Dickens,  they were certainly brought to the public's attention by him.  Here are a few:

'... out vith it, as the father said to the child, ven he swallowed a [farthing].’

 ‘Now, gen’l’men, “fall on,” as the English said to the French when they fixed [their bayonets].’

'Business first, pleasure arterwards, as King Richard the Third said ven he stabbed the t’other king in the Tower, afore he smothered the babbies.’

And I can't leave without mentioning the poem 'The Expiring Frog' by Mrs Leo Hunter.  Its an excruciating lancing of pompous parlour poetry.  Along with Sam Weller, this poem makes persevering with the book all the more worthwhile.

Dickens heavily revised The Pickwick Papers in 1847 and 1867.  I read the Penguin version of the book which is based on the 1937 edition - which is, more or less, what the original audience would have read - this is an interesting thing to experience, but I can't help wondering ...    

The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert

The Signature of All Things is one of the best books I have read in a long time: a fine, entertaining, informative and, above all, enjoyable tale.  What we have here is a finely wrought simulacrum of the very best of 19th century story-telling (I'm thinking of Anthony Trollope) imbued with a 21st century sensibility.  A strange thing to do, but it works beautifully.  I loved Trollope's The Warden and Barchester Towers.  Gilbert's novel, then, is in very good company.

Alma Whittaker, born on 5 January 1800, begins her life at the very beginning of the 19th Century.  Her story will come to echo some of the events of a century that was marked by great industrial developments, scientific achievements and social progress.  Alma's tale is prefaced by an engaging account of the rise of her father from obscurity in England to becoming one of the wealthiest men in a newly independent United States of America.

So, Alma grows up rich, she inherits a fine, enquiring mind and a practical aptitude for learning from both her parents, but she is not bonny.  These three hallmarks will, of course, come to shape her life  - and in some most unexpected ways, too.  New and interesting characters come into Alma's life, and they bring with them the seeds of love, pain, loss and sacrifice.  I don't want to say anymore about character and plot in case I spoil the book for the reader.

It is remarkable how Gilbert seems to know so much about so many things of the period, and she has a knack for conveying this information effortlessly and without being overly didactic.  The narrative voice is perfectly at home in the period, so the mood created rings authentically rather than seeming to be the product of exacting 21st century research.

 Overall, a remarkable achievement and an enjoyable read.  Highly recommended.

A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court by Mark Twain

What a disturbing book!

Friedrich Nietzsche once wrote:

Somebody remarked: 'I can tell by my own reaction to it that this book is harmful.' But let him only wait and perhaps one day he will admit to himself that this same book has done him a great service by bringing out the hidden sickness of his heart and making it visible. - Assorted Opinions and Maxims

Nietzsche may be right.  If I wait, I may find the fault lies with me and not with the book.  On the other hand, A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court may be the outward expression of the hidden sickness of Mark Twain's heart.

Mark Twain, living in poverty in San Francisco, once put a revolver to his head with the view of ending it all.  Luckily for him and the rest of the world, he decided to stay alive, because he went on to write 

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, the latter being one of the great novels of all time. Twain established himself as a best-selling author and humourist, and he became a rich man in the process.  Not only this, he married a wealthy woman.  

Things were looking good for Twain until he invested his money in the development of a mechanical typesetting machine.  It ruined him and he had to declare bankruptcy. It was under this cloud of impending doom and then final insolvency that Twain wrote A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court.  It shows.

The book was an intended satire on the works of Sir Walter Scott, who had romanticised the ideals of mediaeval court chivalry, and the Catholic Church and its conservative and controlling influence.  Against these, Twain sets the ideals of rational control through scientific knowledge, the benefits of 19th century technology and capitalist endeavour, and a more open, presbyterian style of worship.

N.B.  The following paragraphs make explicit the outcome of the plot.

Henry (Hank) Morgan (the Connecticut Yankee and engineer) is knocked out by a blow on the head and awakens in England in the year 528.  He finds a land ruled by a vain, prejudiced and violent aristocracy, and with its common folk thoroughly cowed.  Whether they be aristocrats or commoners, the hallmark of these people is that they are superstitious and prone to believe whatever they hear.  Hank - first in order to survive, then to control - is not above lying to those he meets.  Through these lies and the use of 19th century knowledge and technology, Hank rises to a position of power, which he uses to introduce modern schooling and infrastructure to the kingdom.  In so doing, he undermines the power of the aristocracy and the Church.  Inevitably, a backlash occurs, war breaks out and there is lots of bloodshed.

In the end, it is modern technology that causes the deaths of thousands at the hands of the few.  In the end, it seems the rational of application of scientific knowledge to power is no better than the social systems that predated it.  Worse still, the power it delivers to Hank Morgan degrades him until he becomes a cold-blooded mass murderer.  Nobody wins.

It is hard to believe that this nihilistic assessment of humanity was Twain's intention when he started the book, but it is certainly the outcome - a sunny beginning eclipsed by a dark ending.  I wonder if it is more than a coincidence that Hank orders the execution of the court's only humourist.  Is Twain saying something about himself as well as the economic system and ethos that first made his fortune and then took it away?  Whatever the case may be, A Connecticut Yankee at King Arthur's Court  is disturbing and challenging to read.  To paraphrase Nietzsche this time: if reading it does not kill you, it will make you stronger.

Mr Midshipman Easy by Captain Marryat

Mr Midshipman Easy is a very enjoyable book of high adventure and sheer dumb luck set during the Napoleonic Wars.  First published in 1836, it is also a critique - albeit a highly caricatured one - of some of the progressive social philosophers of the day.

Nicodemus Easy is a man of independent means, and looking for something to do, he decides on philosophy.  Marryat says philosophy is:

... the very best profession a man can take up, when he is fit for nothing else; he must be a very incapable person indeed who cannot talk nonsense ...  For some time, Mr Easy could not decide upon what description his nonsense should consist of, at last he fixed upon the rights of man, equality, and all that ...

Mr Easy steeps his son, Jack, in his philosophy, unwittingly turning him into a headstrong and spoiled child.  Later, when Jack starts attending school, he has great trouble being amenable to his teacher's authority.

At age seventeen, Jack decides to join the Royal Navy, naively thinking that if equality exists anywhere, it will be in the armed forces. Through the patronage of his father, Jack enlists as a midshipman and promptly sets his philosophy of equality against the entire chain of command of the navy.  Jack's easy-going and disarming manner allows him to get away with much of his insubordination, which also leads him into some hare-brained exploits.  A quick mind and a generous helping of luck sees Jack out of many a tight scrape, and success piles up around him.

Captain Marryat, himself a veteran of the Napoleonic Wars, has created a fine comic novel in Mr Midshipman Easy.  There is a lot in it to amuse the reader, especially the naive charm of the Teflon-coated Jack Easy and the practical wisdom of his friend Mesty, a runaway African slave.  Their hijinks on the high seas is the cause for many a smile or raised eyebrows.  But this is not to say that there is no room for danger, violence and tragedy.  There is plenty of that too - many die along the way, sometimes callously - and Jack's homecoming has particularly tragic consequences.

Of course, this book was written nearly 180 years ago and sentiments have changed in that time.  The reader may find the Captain's portrayal of Mesty the former slave problematic.  On the positive side, we can say that Mesty is a fully-fleshed and subjective character with his own unique thoughts and feelings, and not a mere cipher or an object in the white man's field of view.

When the denunciation of old Mr Easy's philosophy arrives towards the end of the book, it is mostly couched in theological terms.  Even so, the Captain seriously challenges us about the nature of equality and inequality.  To what extent is equality possible?  Are there economic advantages to be derived from inequality, or deleterious social consequences to be derived from equality?  Can the wolf live with the lamb?  These questions are still pertinent today.

Lorna Doone by R.D. Blackmore

"If anybody cares to read a simple tale told simply ..."  With these words Blackmore's honest narrator and protagonist, John Ridd, begins his intriguing story of love, hatred and endeavour.

The "simple tale" begins in Somerset and Devon in the 1670s.  King Charles II has been the king since the monarchy was restored in 1660.  The tumults of the English Civil War and Cromwell's Protectorship are over but their consequences are still being felt.  

The Doones, formerly lords in the north of England, now landless after the war, have become a clan of outlaws and brigands on Exmoor in Devon and Somerset. Operating from their fortified hideout in the inaccessible valley of Badgworthy Water, they pillage the countryside for food, money and wives.  When John Ridd is still but a child, his father is murdered by one of the Doones.  Despite this calamity, John and his mother carry on business at the family farm and John is able to gain an education.  As he grows, John encounters a beautiful girl near the headwaters of the moor: she is Lorna, the granddaughter of the Doone clan's patriarch.  It is love at first sight for the pair, but are they destined to become star-crossed lovers?  How can John, a lone and virtuous youth, ever hope to wrest Lorna away from the murderous Doones?

In the course of the tale, which spans some fifteen years, we meet a host of memorable characters, including John and Lorna; John's nervous mother; Lorna's eloquent and unscrupulous uncle (known as the Counsellor); Tom Faggus, a dashing highwayman; Jeremy Stickles, the King's hungry and loquacious messenger; the capricious and blood-thirsty Judge Jefferys; and the sadistic Carver Doone.  Love, tenderness, honesty and goodwill are by turns set against violence, deceit, double-crosses, and political uprisings.

The narrative provides the reader with action and respites in pleasing proportions.  The characters, while tending to be a bit (or sometimes more than a bit) one-sided in their virtues and failings, are believable and engaging.  The natural world is evoked through charming and beautiful descriptive passages, providing a solid and memorable setting for the story.  John Ridd, for example, has his emotions stirred by the beauty Lorna's 'care and diligence' has wrought in her cottage garden, and he says to us:

Even the breathing of the wind, soft and gentle in and out, moving things that need not move, and passing longer-stalked ones, even this was not enough among the flush of fragrance, to tell a man the reason of his quiet satisfaction.  But so it shall forever be.  As the river we float upon (with wine, and flowers, and music) is nothing at the well-spring but a bubble without reason.

At over 600 pages, Lorna Doone is a long book; however, the pleasure to be had from this lively romance set on the English moors makes the tale all too short.

Cranford by Elizabeth Gaskell

Imagine a novel without a plot.  Imagine a novel without a plot that happens to be a great pleasure to read.  Then you have imagined Cranford.

The genesis of this novel resulted from Charles Dickens inviting Mrs Gaskell to contribute short stories to his periodical Household Words.  Over the course of three years she provided Dickens with a series of eight stand-alone short stories featuring the village of Cranford and its inhabitants.  It was only afterwards that any thought was given to reworking these stories into its current form as a novel (this would explain the apparent lack of a plot) which was first published in 1851. 

What we do have is a collection of charming and loosely-linked vignettes about the ladies of Cranford as told by the narrator Mary Smith.  The story is set in the 1830s.  We are introduced to the central characters:  Miss Matty Jenkyns and Miss Pole, two aging spinsters; the Honourable Mrs Jamieson an aged and sleepy widow; and Mary Smith who divides her time between the village of Drumble where she lives with her father, and Cranford when she visits Miss Matty for extended periods.  Although the book starts out by asserting that the women of Cranford are Amazons, male characters do feature in the stories - ironically as stalwarts or saviours.

Thematically, Cranford deals with the vanishing way of life that was the English rural village.  By the time of the novel's first publication, industrialisation was well under way in Britain and there was an increasing migration of the population from the countryside to urban centres.  

It is a testament to Mrs Gaskell's skill as a writer that she is able to produce a loving portrait of English village life while avoiding the excesses of sentimentality and wistfulness.  Subtle, gentle and easy to enjoy: give Cranford a whirl. 

The Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy

There was a time when reading Thomas Hardy novels was almost a rite of passage, at least in my part of the world.  I spent many an hour being made perfectly miserable by Hardy as I waded through The Mayor of Casterbridge and Tess of the d'Urbervilles.  Tess polished me off, and I swore that I didn't need Hardy to make me sad as I could do that all on my own.

That was over thirty years ago.  Recently, I detected that my happiness quotient was quite high, so I thought I would give Hardy another go:  'Do your darnedest, Tom!' I said.  'Bring me down, I dare you.'

Well, I wish I had read this one all those years ago.  Compared to Tess, it is positively joyous.  Oh, it has its fair share of misery, but the supporting cast is affable and two of the five protagonists end up happily.

Amongst other things, The Return of the Native is about love triangles.  Set in Egdon Heath, a fictional expanse of furze and heather in Hardy's Wessex, the ephemeral human inhabitants eke out a fragile living from the eternal landscape, just as their ancestors had done through the long ages.  Most are happy to be in the land where they were born and raised.  Some are not.

Clym Yeobright, the native of the title, returns from a long stint in Paris where he worked in the diamond trade.  As exciting as Paris may have been, Clym has decided that Egdon Heath is his true home, and he has come to settle down.  In returning, he disrupts a love triangle between the beautiful Eustacia Vye, the wayward Damon Wildeve and the unimaginative Thomasin Yeobright, Clym's cousin.  Eustacia, who had already told Wildeve 'I wish I hated the heath less - or loved you more', becomes smitten with Clym as she perceives him to be her ticket out of the place, being unaware of his plans to stay.

Take all the varying hates felt by Eustacia Vye towards the heath, and translate them into loves, and you have the heart of Clym.

Given this, can Clym and Eustacia become anything but star-crossed lovers?  What now for Thomasin and Wildeve?  And moving in and out of the action is the stalwart and diligent outcast Diggory Venn, whose profession excludes him from the love he deserves - what of him?

Hardy does a sterling job of setting up the place and its people.  Slowly and surely we are introduced to the protagonists and their dilemmas.  We see their actions play out as they succumb to their foibles rather than playing to their strengths.  Fate intervenes to twist their trajectories in unexpected ways.  Immovable objects collide with irresistible forces, so there is a lot wreckage.  And in amongst all this are Hardy's observations of the human condition, for example:

A man should be only partially before his time: to be completely to the vanward in aspirations is fatal to fame.

 and

So the subject recurred: if [Clym] were making a fortune and a name, so much the better for him; if he were making a tragical figure in the world, so much the better for a narrative.

For the newly-fledged youngster starting out in the world of work and love there is a lot of vital, if sometimes grim, wisdom to be had from The Return of the Native.  Hardy has even foreshadowed Stephen Sondheim's advice: 'never fall in love during a total eclipse.'  Do it at your peril.  You have been warned.

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

A Tale of Two Cities is a thoroughly enjoyable story, with enough action and colour to keep the modern reader entertained.  Highly recommended for those who don't mind stepping outside their own contemporary culture from time to time for some good old-fashioned story-telling.

This novel was first published in 1859 and is set in the years leading up to and immediately following the French Revolution in 1789.  

It tells the tale of Charles Darnay, a French aristocrat who has renounced his patrimony, and his look-alike Sydney Carton, an Englishman who has dissipated his money and talents on alcohol.  Their stories are bound up with those of Dr Manette and his daughter Lucie. The action switches back and forth between a staid and conservative London and a Paris caught up in revolutionary turmoil.

The novel is a brief one by Dickens' standards.  Even so, Dickens is able to tell a tangled tale of intrigue, deceit, loyalty and redemption against a well-drawn historical backdrop. The action rarely flags, and new developments come thick and fast.

Also unlike many of Dickens' stories, most of the characters in A Tale of Two Cities have an interesting psychological depth to them, rather than being stock characters.  Assisting the main actors are Mr Jarvis Lorry, who hides his compassionate nature behind the thin veneer of a dispassionate businessman; the tough and gruff Jerry Cruncher who is an errand runner by day and a resurrection man by night; Monsieur and Madame DeFarge who run an underground revolutionary movement from their Paris tavern; and then there is the poor peasant Gaspard, who suffers a grievous outrage at the hands of the French aristocracy.

I thoroughly enjoyed A Tale of Two Cities.  I read the Penguin Classics eBook version, which contains a very informative introductory essay by Richard Maxwell.

The Chimes by Charles Dickens

Psst!  This is my 100th blog entry.

Ever had one of those days when it is hard to believe in a loving god, or thought that the good ol' days were surely better than the present day with its trial and troubles, or that those worse off than you have no one to blame but themselves?

Poor Toby (Trotty) Veck is assailed by such thoughts in his mid-winter gloom. Trotty is a ticket-porter (an errand runner) who stands outside a certain church in all seasons waiting for customers; but today is New Year's Eve - "a breezy, goose-skinned, blue-nosed, stoney-toed, tooth-chattering" day - and things are going hard for him.

Two things Trotty relies on to cheer him is his love for his only child Meg, and the voices of the church bells, the Chimes, that seem to sing encouragement to him when things are bleak.  This very night, however, when the Chimes are rung, Trotty hears their voices summoning him to them.  He obeys the call, and climbing the church's narrow belfry stairs, comes before the Chimes and their attendant spirits.  It is not a benign meeting, and things go badly for Trotty. Or do they?

The Chimes is the second of the five Christmas novellas that Dickens wrote, the first being A Christmas Carol, the third being The Cricket on the Hearth.  Like its predecessor, The Chimes is a morality tale: Trotty must learn the lessons of hope, faith, and charity.  As in its predecessor, the lessons are doled out by a supernatural agency.  Unlike its predecessor, The Chimes is not a work touched by, shall we say, genius.  The storytelling is marred by extended soliloquies and a lack of action.

Even so, at least once a year we can set aside some time to think about what is what. Christmas-time is as good a time as any.  And in the new year, perhaps we can take up Dickens' challenge and work for a kinder and more understanding world.

Merry Christmas and a happy New Year, everyone.

Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope

"In the latter days of July in the year 185-, a most important question was for ten days hourly asked in the cathedral city of Barchester, and answered every hour in various ways - who was to be the new bishop?"

And who was to be the new bishop? An outsider, so it happened, and thus the equilibrium of the little corner of the world that is Barsetshire is thrown off balance.  New people with new ideas arrive on the scene; feathers are ruffled as a new order is proposed, if not imposed.

Barchester Towers reacquaints us with some of the characters first introduced in The Warden.  There is the aged cleric Septimus Harding, his two daughters, and his son-in-law Archdeacon Grantly.  Added to the cast are the weak-willed Bishop Proudie and his domineering wife; the conniving Obadiah Slope, the bishop's chaplain; the shy and scholarly Mr Francis Arabin; and the Stanhope siblings: the wastrel artist Bertie, the match-making Charlotte, and the femme fatale Madeline, better know as La Signora Vesey Neroni.

The action revolves around two poles.  Firstly, there is Eleanor, Rev. Harding's daughter, widowed young and the possessor of a considerable income left by her late husband, and she soon becomes the apex of several love triangles. Secondly, there is the politics of the Barchester diocese as the posts of the Warden of Hiram's Hospital and, later, the Dean of the cathedral become vacant; and as Mr Slope and Mrs Proudie go to war over which of them has control of the bishop.

At about 500 pages, Barchester Towers is a much vaster undertaking than its slender predecessor, but just as enjoyable. Trollope has again created a cast of very real and compelling characters. It is a testament to his skill as writer that, whether they be goodies or baddies, or whether they have major or minor roles, the reader is able to care for all the people on the page.

Whereas The Warden dealt with a good and humble man having a crisis of conscience, Barchester Towers is more concerned with manners.  Whilst the latter book was Trollope's most popular, it could be argued that the former is the superior work of art.  As for the sheer joy of reading a good book, they both have their own charms and are as equally entertaining, which is to say very entertaining. Why not read them both?

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

Moby Dick is a long book: it is also a big book.  Melville sets out to immerse the reader in the world of 19th Century whaling industry while telling the tale of a man ruined by madness.

"Call me Ishmael" is the famous opening line of the novel.  Ishmael narrates his own story about how he went to sea aboard the whaling ship Pequod.  His story does not have much of a plot, and it progresses very slowly.  Ishmael 's narrative is mostly split between telling what he saw and experienced aboard the Pequod,  and what he learned about whales and the whaling industry through the research he undertook in the years after the events being described.

Ishmael paints a vivid picture of life at sea on a whaling ship.  We see a cosmopolitan world in the microcosm of the ship and crew.  Here is a set of men of action who have to thrive in each other's company - for years on end - in cramped conditions.  We hear their conversations, their anecdotes and their songs.  In between times, they take to their boats and hunt down whales.  There are casualties that must be dealt with and griefs to be borne.

Throughout the narrative, Ismael ponders the nature of the universe, of humans, and of the Deity.  His outlook is generally bleak compared with those of his companions.  He does have the power of hindsight on his side, and we start to get some kind of inkling of dark times ahead when Captain Ahab stumps into the story.  The Captain is mad, but what will his madness bring down upon himself, his ship and his crew?

Overall, I really admire the job Melville has done with this book.  Yes, there are over-long passages devoted to cetology, but he was writing for an audience that had no Wikipedia or T.V. documentaries.  On the other hand, Melville succeeds superbly in conjuring up the strange and particular world of ye olde whalers - with its taverns, churches, docks and ships, with its heroes, villains, prophets and seers.  I was shown it all, and I was shown it incredibly well.

It took me a few months to get through Moby Dick, but I'm glad I took the time. It was a very rewarding experience.

. 

The Warden by Anthony Trollope

'Tis a pity that he should not have recognized the fact that in this world no good is unalloyed, and that there is but little evil that has not in it some seed of what is goodly.

The Warden is a charming book peopled with characters who are neither wholly good nor wholly evil.  They are vividly imagined and realised beings, each with their own particular set of virtues and foibles; and the main characters are set a problem that exercises their sense of discrimination of right from wrong. 

The scene is Victorian England.  The Reverend Septimus Harding is enjoying his twilight years.  As the Warden of Hiram's Hospital, a hospice for disabled rural workers, he receives a substantial stipend in return for no work whatsoever.  His problems start when  someone points this out to the local newspaper.  Is it right that one man should receive twice as much as twelve invalid pensioners combined for no other reason than this is the way the Church of England has seen fit to administer a centuries-old bequeathment? 

This is the main moral question for the characters in the book. The Reverend Harding is stung by the accusation and wrestles with his conscience.  Archdeacon Grantly leads the Church's defence against the claims of the pensioners to a fairer treatment, while the Bishop vacillates about the matter.  

In The Warden, Trollope has created a gentle, thoughtful and likeable Reverend, a decisive but bullying Archdeacon and an ineffectual Bishop.  Set against these are a socially-minded suitor, a crusading newspaper man, and a dozen damaged and ill-educated pensioners.  These characters are so skilfully drawn that the reader can engage with and care for them all.  And even though the setting of the action is now more than 100 years in the past, it is easy for the modern reader to be immersed politics of the little world of Barsetshire.

I liked this book a great deal, and I look forward to reading the sequel, Barchester Towers.

Dracula by Bram Stoker

A few decades ago I read this book hot on the heels of reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.  I did it a great disservice by comparing the two.  At the time Dracula seemed a bit cheap by comparison: the psychology was shallower, and the good guys were too good and all seemed stamped from the same mould.  I dismissed it as a lesser work; however, upon re-reading, I can see more clearly the merits of Stoker's novel.

The story of Dracula is presented to the reader in the form of extracts from various diaries, journals, letters, telegrams and newspaper clippings.  This allows us to see the story from multiple points of view, and Stoker does an admirable job of blending direct observation, internal dialogue and reported speech so that the narration remains fresh and lively throughout what is a long novel.

Of course, the genre is horror; and as willing participants in the game, we are going to allow Stoker to scare us.  But how does he go about his task?  He introduces us to one of the heroes, Jonathan Harker, and through him we soon meet the monster Count Dracula.   The Count is hospitable, thoughtful and erudite; however, the scenario "reeks of wrongness" (thank you, Diana Wynne Jones for giving the world that phrase).  By degrees, Harker's situation descends into a nightmare.  

It is notable that things are never so nightmarish than when the Count is absent and is only alluded to or is only seen from afar, and that is about all we get of him for most of the book after the first few chapters.  But it works, and it does intensify the horror.  Tolkien used the same device: Sauron is never seen (except as a distant, roving eye) and is never heard (except in one case of reported speech), and yet the horror of his threat is almost always present.

Stoker, it seems, is good at the bad guys and bad at the good guys.  The Count and the lunatic Renfield are memorable villains.  Mr & Mrs Harker, Dr Seward, et al. are quite unmemorable and hardly distinguishable in their thoughts and sentiments.  Only the quirky and indefatigable Van Helsing rises above the blandness of his companions (but only just).  The point, I think, is that we are to insert ourselves into the places of the good guys at each change of perspective so that we, too, can feel the full impact of the horror that besets them.  Too much eccentricity on the part of the character may mean a loss of empathy on our part.  Still, a bit more delineation would have been nice.

I am very glad to have read this book again.  Despite my familiarity with the story, Stoker was able to touch my sense of horror and set it humming.

At the Back of the North Wind by George MacDonald

Joseph Campbell once said that if you find an author whose works you like, then try to read some of the books s/he likes.  It's no secret that I love Tolkien's work, and he was fond of the fairy tales of Scottish author George MacDonald (1824 - 1905), therefore ...

MacDonald was a prolific writer and there are so many works of his from which to choose; however, the title At the Back of the North Wind really piqued my curiosity - what could such a title mean?

This book is about the story of a boy called Diamond who meets the personification of the North Wind and is taken by her to the faerie realm.  Here he acquires a different vision of life; and when he is returned to our world (well, Victorian England), Diamond becomes an ideal child: he helps his mother care for his newborn brother to whom he sings joyous nursery rhymes of his own devising, he drives his father's cab when his father becomes too ill to work, and he brings peace and good fortune to the families of his neighbours. 

I suspect this tale contains Christian allegory, but I didn't look too closely for it.  I just enjoyed the story at its face-value wherever I could.  And I did enjoy it.  There is a part of me that would like to be whisked off by the North Wind to somewhere beautiful and perilous; I would love to eavesdrop on a conversation held by saints in stained glass windows after the church is locked; I would really love to understand the speech of animals.  All these things happen to Diamond, and more.

The book was first published in 1871, and the prose style is a wee bit dated.  However, MacDonald does show a talent for poetry.  Besides some original poems, he also reworked Hey Diddle Diddle and Little Bo Peep.  They are quite good, energetic and very entertaining.  Interestingly, Tolkien also reworked Hey Diddle Diddle (and put it in the famous scene in the pub at Bree) and it appears that he 'borrowed' some elements from MacDonald's work.

Well, if you want to take your inner child out for a run in the park, then At the Back of the North Wind may be what you are looking for. 

David Copperfield by Charles Dickens

Of all his novels, Charles Dickens was fondest of David Copperfield.  It has been almost forty years since I last read a Dickens novel.  On that occasion, the book was Oliver Twist and since then I have seen innumerable adaptations of  that book; however, I have never seen even one adaptation of David Copperfield, so I have come to it relatively unsullied by prior knowledge.  I hope I found it as Dickens would have wanted me to find it.

I liked this book.  It has its flaws: it is very long, many of Dickens characters come dangerously close to being stock characters (if they aren't already full-blown ones) and he can be downright wordy (seeing that he got paid by the word).  On the other hand, Dickens can tell an engaging story, he can make you feel for his characters (and they are very memorable and very diverse, if not always believable) and he can easily shift from the very comic to the very pensive.  Frinstance:

"... at this sight Mrs. Markleham dropped the newspaper, and stared more like a figure-head intended for a ship to be called The Astonishment, than anything else I can think of." (Chapter 45)

"I know [the Thames is] like me ... It comes from country places where there was once no harm in it - and it creeps through the dismal streets, defiled and miserable - and it goes away, like my life, to a great sea that is always troubled - and I feel that I must go with it." (Chapter 47)

 Yes, I did enjoy this book very much.  I was prepared to forgive its mawkish tendencies in light of its vivacity.  Although David Copperfield is certainly a creation of its own era, there is enough in it that is universal to the human condition; so much so, the modern reader can easily accommodate the unknown and unfamiliar without too much diminishment of either identification or enjoyment.

Ivanhoe by Sir Walter Scott

I abandoned this book about 25 years ago.  I just couldn't take Sir Walter Scott's prolix writing style, not the way I was then - too much time, not enough patience.  Nowadays, I find I have plenty of patience but not enough time.

Recently, a wise voice from my past reminded me that there was more to Scott than wordiness.  His novel were popular in the past, my friend said, because they contained entertaining and thrilling stories, and if you take the time, they will work their magic.

So I tried Ivanhoe again.  It's a long book, but this time I was ready.  I had to get some way into it, get accustomed to the author's style and pace, get immersed in the action before I found I was hooked.  I actually began to look forward to my daily fix of Ivanhoe.  I'm so glad that my friend encouraged me to practice patience and persistence.

Ivanhoe is set in England during the reign of Richard the Lionheart.  Five generations after the Norman invasion of Saxon England, Scott asks us to believe that there is still a fierce resentment on the part of the Saxon nobility towards the Norman conquerors (who are now technically Plantagenets). Wilfred of Ivanhoe loves the beautiful Rowena, the daughter of the best-placed Saxon claimant to the throne.  On returning from crusading in the Holy Land, Ivanhoe is seriously injured and is placed in the care of the beautiful Rebecca, a healer.  Lots of stuff happens involving Richard, Robin Hood, and a bunch of bigoted Knights.  There's peril galore!

A good deal of the story revolves around Rebecca, the daughter of Isaac of York.  Both Rebecca and her father are of the Jewish faith, and they are threatened by an almost ubiquitous anti-semitism.  It is odd that a book named after a Christian knight should be so centred around two Jewish people.  It may have something to do with the burgeoning movements to grant full civil rights to Jews and Catholics in Britain at the time Scott was writing it.

Actually, there are quite a few odd things about Ivanhoe, but I won't spoil the fun for anyone who wants to read it.  I enjoyed it very much.  I am glad my old friend encouraged me to persevere.  I encourage you to persevere too.  Yes, you!

Ivanhoe was first published in 1820.  I read an ebook version of it. Review.

John Halifax, Gentleman by Mrs Craik

You have got to love a book that has the word 'sunshiny' in it, not once but nine times.  And if you are into sunshiny statistics, Louisa May Alcott managed to use the word seven times in the course of seven novels; Robert Louis Stevenson and Charles Dickens used it at least twice each, and George Eliot used it at least once.  (Statistics courtesy of The Ministry of Useless Information).

John Halifax, Gentleman is a bildungsroman, a novel that tells the story of an individual as they develop from childhood to maturity.  (See Jane Eyre).  It is also a David and Jonathan story.

John Halifax is an orphan boy.  He is used to sleeping rough as he moves about the countryside looking for work.  John will not beg and only takes what he can get from honest work.  In the town of Norton Bury, John gets hired by Abel Fletcher and begins to learn the tanning trade.

He befriends Abel's son Phineas (the story's narrator) and becomes a David to Phineas' Jonathan.  Got that? John becomes David and Phineas becomes Jon. We follow the two friends as they stick together throughout their lives: Phineas as a bachelor invalid and John as an ever-prosperous and influential businessman, community leader and family man.  Their troubles are many, and each problem is met with Christian fortitude and large doses of common decency.  

I really enjoyed John Halifax, Gentleman.  Admittedly, it can be construed as a sort of Mills and Boon novel for Victorian times; however, there is a depth and breadth to the themes present in this book that goes way beyond a boy-meets-girl story.  It is all in there:  life and death, joy and sorrow, health and sickness, poverty and prosperity, malice and love.  Any theme that Mrs Craik introduces is explored well and never cursorily.  Through Phineas the narrator she allows us to peer into the hearts of the characters of Norton Bury, and all is bathed in the light of Christian love and moral integrity.  I think in this respect John Halifax, Gentleman is a warmer and more gladdening book than Jane Eyre.  Well worth the effort.

John Halifax, Gentleman was first published in 1856.  I read an e-book version. Review.

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

Jane Eyre: An Autobiography was first published in 1847.  It tells the story of the eponymous heroine from the time she was ten years old until her adulthood.

We meet Jane, an orphan, shortly after her uncle and guardian has died.  Her aunt feels burdened by her responsibility for Jane and soon finds a pretext for having her placed in an orphanage.  Here Jane meets initial hostility from the self-righteous administrator.  Very soon she proves her worth as an honest and moral person, and she becomes popular with her fellow orphans.

Shortly before she turns eighteen, Jane gains employment at Thornfield Hall as a governess to a young French girl Adele who is the responsibility of Mr Edward Rochester, the owner of Thornfield.  Before long, Mr Rochester proposes marriage to Jane, but fate intervenes and the two are parted.  Will Jane find true love again?

Over 160 years after it was first published Jane Eyre still holds an attraction for the modern reader.  The language is hardly archaic or obscure, and Charlotte Brontë largely avoids using the long and convoluted sentences that feature in so many novels of the era.  Brontë has a talent for drawing sharp and detailed portraits of her characters.  Her descriptions of both the human and the natural world are elegant, and she has a talent for finding unusual but convincing metaphors.

Jane Eyre herself is portrayed as a strong, independent and resourceful person.  She has a moral depth to her that shines through in every crisis.  In the novel, we see the dilemmas that faced such a person in a time when women were considered to be chattels belonging to a patriarchal household.

So, if you want to read a story with psychological and moral depth, and one that has a strong  female lead character, then Jane Eyre is the book for you.

The Cricket on the Hearth by Charles Dickens

"John and Dot" by Clarkson Stanfield
(scanned by Phillip V Allingham
www.victorianweb.org)

The Cricket on the Hearth is one of Dickens's five Christmas stories, the most famous being A Christmas Carol.

The story centres around the family of John and Dot Peerybingle.  Through them we meet Tilly Slowboy, their maid; Caleb and Bertha Plummer, a toymaker and his blind daughter; Mrs Fielding and her daughter May; and Mr Tackleton, Caleb's insensitive employer.

Mr Tackleton announces his intention to marry the much younger May Fielding.  As the set date coincides with John and Dot's first wedding anniversary, Tackleton sees it as an excuse to make their social acquaintance in the most intrusive manner; however, the arrival of a mysterious stranger complicates matters.  There are misunderstandings and misdirections but, this being a Dickens Christmas story, there is redemption and a happy ending.

I like Dickens, even when he is laying the syrup on with a trowel, and there is a lot of syrup to be laid on in this novella. The good and decent folk are good and decent, and their shortcomings don't amount to a hill of beans; the bad guy is bad, even when he is being decent.  Lots of opportunity to boo and hiss.  That's the fun of it; and the idea of a happy home is, of course, a warming thought.

According to Dickens, having a cricket living in your hearth is a good omen.  The cricket that shares the Peerybingle's hearth acts as a kind of intermediary between this world and the world of the benign powers.  There are fairies, and Dickens does spend a lot of time anthropomorphising the non-human elements in the Peerybingle household.  19th century magic realism?  Would you expect any less of a Dickens Christmas story?  I like this kind of stuff; others may find it a bit much.

Publishing details: Cricket on the Hearth was written and published in 1845.  I read an e-book version without publishing details.