The Chalet School Wins the Trick (by Elinor M Brent-Dyer)

(Amazon UK link)

In my gradual re-reading of Elinor M Brent-Dyer’s lengthy Chalet School series for teenage girls, I'm nearing the end. The last thirty or so are set in Switzerland, after the war years, and I hadn’t read these later books for, probably, twenty years or more.

‘The Chalet School wins the trick’ is number 46 in the original chronology, and has a slightly different storyline to the majority. Five of the main characters are girls who are not (yet) Chalet School pupils, and indeed have taken a strong dislike to the school. This is mainly because, in the first chapter, they are caught by Rosalie Dene, the secretary, trying to do something dangerous…

Audrey, oldest of the five, is fifteen and tries to be responsible. Her father has been ill with TB so she and her two sisters, Celia - who is about eleven - and Win, categorised as ‘Baby’ but evidently about five or six, look up to her for support and leadership. Celia is quite close to another of the five, Val, who is about her age and has a brother at the Sanatorium nearby. The fifth in the quintette is Solange, who is about thirteen, French by nationality, and who has a very sick aunt.

So alongside the day-to-day life of the Chalet School, we read about these children who are doing some work at home, but spend a lot of the time roaming around the area, finding both good and not-so-good things to do. Their parents and guardians are naturally most concerned about their relatives in the San, so the girls, with a few rules, are mostly free to do their own thing.

There’s a fair amount of Joey Maynard in this book too, which is always a plus point in my view. Her triplets, 15-year-old Len, Con and Margot, feature significantly. Her littlest ones also appear, though the older boys and the first twins are now at school, and barely mentioned. But Joey’s wisdom and parenting ideas come through quite strongly, as does her compassion.

I had entirely forgotten the storyline of this; much is predictable, of course, but the vendetta against the school added an interesting twist, and there’s a more sober subplot involving Mary-Lou and her family-by-marriage.

My edition is one of the original hardbacks, so it’s a full edition. The Armada paperbacks were somewhat abridged. The link above is to the Girls Gone By reprint of the full edition, although these are not always in print and can be very pricey second-hand. 

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

A Live Coal in the Sea (by Madeleine L'Engle)

(Amazon UK link)

When I read Madeleine L’Engle’s teenage novel ‘Camilla’ about a month ago, I commented at the end of the review that I found the ending rather inconclusive. I cared enough about the main character that I wanted to know what would happen. I hadn’t expected to discover what the author intended, so was very pleased when a friend told me that there’s a sequel, and lent it to me.

‘A Live Coal in the Sea’ is decidedly an adult rather than teenage novel. Camilla, who was in her teens in the first book, is now a grandmother in her fifties. The first chapter shows her receiving a special award for her work in astronomy. It also introduces her adult son Taxi, who is an actor, and her daughter Frankie, who is an illustrator. Camilla has a student granddaughter too, Raffi, with whom she is very close; the daughter of Taxi and his wife.

However most of the story takes place in the past, in a series of flashbacks that move through Camilla’s life from the time when she was a student herself. The story is held together by conversations between Camilla and Raffi, who has been told something very disturbing by her father. There’s evidently some complex and rather murky secret in the family’s past, and Camilla decides that it’s time to speak out.

The book then gradually moves us forward through Camilla’s life, cleverly written so as to introduce a little of the story at the time. Every so often a little more time passes and we see her with Raffi again. It’s not entirely clear which sections are Camilla remembering, and which ones express what she actually talks about, but it doesn’t matter. The device works, even if the conversations between Camilla and Raffi are a bit stilted in places, and I found myself quickly drawn into the story, intrigued to find out how it would all fall into place.

While the blurb on the back calls this a ‘gripping and psychologically complex tale’, I didn’t find it tense or even particularly complicated, once I had become used to the switches in time. There are tangential comments about astronomy and simple number theory that I found interesting, but Camilla’s work mostly takes a back seat to her family life, and her relationship with her husband and extended family.

The characters are mostly three-dimensional and believable, and I found myself growing particularly fond of Camilla’s in-laws. It wasn’t a difficult read and I finished it in just a couple of days. Overall, I thought it a satisfying sequel which does, indeed, take the story forward and shows what happens in Camilla’s later life. Her close friend Luisa is also involved in the novel though the two are, inevitably, less close than they were as teenagers.

Older teens might enjoy this, but be warned that there there is some ‘adult’ content, including one particularly disturbing memory, and several rather frank discussions about sexuality. As with most of L’Engle’s books there’s a low-key Christian theme too, but it’s not pushy at all. The church is very much a part of Camilla’s life as she marries into a clerical family, so faith of some kind is taken for granted.

All in all, I liked this book very much.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

Summer at Shell Cottage (by Lucy Diamond)

(Amazon UK link)

The first novel I read by Lucy Diamond was about a year ago, and I liked it so much that I put a few more of her books on my wishlist. The style was a bit informal but the characterisation was good; the broad theme was of family relationships, a genre that I usually like very much. I was delighted to be given this one last Christmas, and despite it being quite long - not far off 500 pages in paperback - I devoured it in just a couple of days.

‘Summer at Shell Cottage’ features an extended family: Olivia and Alec had a son, Robert and daughter Freya. By the time the main part of the story opens, Freya, who works as a doctor, is married to Victor, who works for the police and they have three children. Robert, who left his job to write a novel, is married to Harriet - a teacher - who has a teenage daughter, Molly. They all congregate each summer for a couple of weeks in Devon, in the family’s ‘Shell Cottage’.

The first chapter rushes us through the decades, beginning with Olivia and Alec first seeing the cottage at the start of their honeymoon, and ending, a few pages later, with their children and grandchildren briefly introduced. Olivia is contented and all seems to be going well, but as this summer approaches, things start to go wrong.

We then meet other members of the family, and quickly realise that the ‘happy families’ image is a mask for a great many stresses. Harriet thinks herself rather dumpy and old-fashioned. Freya is struggling to cope with life in general and is aware that she’s drinking too much. Robert evidently has a secret which he’s ashamed to tell Harriet, and Molly is in the first throes of a love affair which her mother knows nothing about…

Olivia, slowly recovering from one shock, receives another which throws her entire world out of kilter. And the scene is set for a fast-paced character-driven story with several sub-plots that intertwine well, and which kept me turning pages long after I really needed to be doing other things. I found Robert and Victor a little two-dimensional and had easily guessed Robert’s secret, but I liked both Freya and Harriet very much and could sympathise with both.

As with the first book I read by this author, the style is quite informal at times, almost stream-of-consciousness in places. Different chapters take different viewpoints, so we see the family dynamics well. Nine-year-old Libby hero-worships her step-cousin Molly; six-year-old Teddy is an absolute delight. Victor loves to rescue people and is immensely brave, but he’s totally unaware how stressed his wife is. They felt like real people, and I cared about them all.

Towards the end it was even more difficult to put the book down, as revelations and explanations begin. While some are predictable, as are people’s reactions, there was one shock which I had not seen coming - though perhaps I should have done.

Overall I liked it very much.

Essentially it’s about ordinary people going through a difficult summer, but they care about each other and are all, at heart, likeable people. Perhaps some would find it slow-moving or caricatured, but I thought it an enjoyable and quite uplifting read. If you like character-driven women’s fiction, and are looking for something light and undemanding as a summer read, I would definitely recommend it.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

Natural Curiosity (by Lisa Carne)

(Amazon UK link)

I was delighted to be contacted by a publisher, a few weeks ago, and asked if I would like to read and review this book. I’m always eager to read new books by home educators, and although I had not previously heard of Lisa Carne, I liked the sound of this book. So I agreed, and the book arrived in my mailbox about ten days ago.

‘Natural Curiosity’ tells the story of a family’s adventures with learning primarily through the natural world. It begins by introducing the family’s philosophy of education, for which they use the acronym EPIC, standing for: explore, ponder, imagine, create. We learn a little about the author and her husband’s background, and the ways they ensured their children spent a lot of time outdoors and related well to nature in their earliest years.

It’s quite refreshing in that it’s not at all negative about schools. The author’s children (a boy and a girl) went to a local pre-school and, since they liked playing with their friends every day, decided that they would go to primary school. They knew that home education was an option, but it wasn’t until a few years later that, one at a time, they determined that they would prefer to continue their main education outside the school. The author stresses that there were none of the usual problems: simply a growing realisation that their needs were better met when they could learn in their own ways, at their own speeds, without the structure of a classroom.

They proceeded fairly naturally into a form of unschooling, based around the children’s interests in nature and the natural world. The son was particularly keen on dinosaurs and studying history through nature; the daughter was keener on birds and butterflies. By spending a lot of time outside, watching nature and asking questions, the author found that they were learning across the curriculum. They read books about natural history, both factual and fiction; they used technology to research questions about history and the animal world, they planned gardens and went for nature walks, and used their own natural curiosity.

The book is nicely structured, showing the children’s progress and looking at questions home educators are often asked. I like the way that school learning is seen as a positive thing for many, with benefits as well as disadvantages, and that the children retain friendships with school friends, nurtured both in playing together outside of school and in some online interactions with games such as Minecraft. I had no idea that this could be used to build historic structures or realistic areas, but these children, while not spending all their time shut up indoors, nonetheless use available technology in constructive ways as part of their education.

This style of learning would not work for everyone, of course. Not every child is interested in natural history or geology, and while there have to be benefits to all to work and explore outside, it’s important for any home educator, whether full-time or educating in addition to school, follow the children’s leads and interests rather than trying to impose their own. Nevertheless, this is a great picture of a family of motivated learners, aided and encouraged by parents who share similar interests.

My slight concern about the book is that the children have only been fully home educated for about a couple of years. While the author talks about their home education before ever going to school, and continuing at evenings, weekends and holiday times while they were registered at schools, they haven’t yet reached the teenage years, nor have they become in any way disillusioned by home education. Either that, or the author is very quiet about the bad days. For some, struggling with day-to-day home education, this could be quite discouraging as everything is presented so neatly, as an ideal solution for these children. I would love to know more about the times when things don't go so well.

The style of the book is a bit jumpy, too. There are random ‘notes’ and ‘interruptions’ throughout, presumably actual interruptions to the writing as a child points out something in nature or asks a question. But although interesting, I found it a bit distracting to have these interspersed in the text itself. I’d have preferred them at the end of chapters. However that’s a personal thing; for those dipping into the book rather than reading it straight through, they provide breaks in the text, and look quite appealing.

Towards the end the author writes about their general parenting style, which - like ours - tries to offer respect, good examples, low-key structure, and a listening ear at any point. Lots of good advice is offered, but it sounds as if these children are naturally motivated and inclined to want to please; not all children are as easy to unschool and parent, and, again, I’d have liked a bit more about times when things went wrong or were more stressful.

Still, these are minor gripes about what is, overall, an excellent introduction to the principles of unschooling, demonstrating how child-led learning can cover an entire curriculum - and more - and how children can flourish when encouraged to follow their passions and spend as much time as they wish on any project or interest.

Definitely recommended.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

Being Elizabeth (by Barbara Taylor Bradford)

(Amazon UK link)

Many years ago I read a few books by Barbara Taylor Bradford, and quite enjoyed them. They mostly involve high-powered businesswomen, which isn’t a topic that interests me much, but some of the stories were well thought-out, and the endings mostly encouraging. However I then read a couple that I found rather tedious and over-detailed, and had not read any of her books for over ten years.

Recently a friend read ‘Being Elizabeth’, and suggested I might borrow it. She told me that the idea behind the book was a modern equivalent of the first Queen Elizabeth, and the idea intrigued me. I picked it up to read this week, and quickly discovered that this was not merely loosely based on the former monarch, but mimicked her life in many ways. The novel opens with news of her older sister Mary’s passing on, so that Elizabeth, aged 25, is now head of the family company, Deravenels.

We learn that Mary was not a good boss, and that their father Harry had six wives and treated his daughters abysmally when they were young. Elizabeth’s advisors have the same or similar names to the historical advisers of Queen Elizabeth I, and much of the plot mirrors her life, albeit set in the late 1990s and early 2000s.

I like the idea very much. In the hands of a writer such as Susan Howatch, books of this kind can be very powerful, with characters inspired by historic figures. Unfortunately, Taylor Bradford chose to stick much too closely to the original storyline, and as such this book is a series of events in someone’s life rather than having any plot as such. There are minor stresses here and there - plots to take over the company, or disagreements between Elizabeth and her lover Robert - but all are resolved quickly and easily.

There’s an ongoing subplot involving her cousin Marie - evidently the modern equivalent of Mary Queen of Scots, again with similar storyline to the original - but nothing much comes of it. And since I know the history, at least roughly, there were no surprises. I was, however, mystified that Elizabeth and several of the other characters refer to Marie as ‘the kilt’; it’s not an expression I’ve heard before, referring to a person, and while I can imagine it might be used in a derogatory way of a Scotsman (though it’s not standard slang, as far as I know) it seemed a very bizarre word to use of a Scotswoman.

My biggest gripe with this novel was the overall writing style which, for such a prolific and best-selling novelist, is a poor imitation of what might be expected. Indeed, it reads like a first draft rather than a published novel. While I didn’t notice spelling or grammar errors, there are so many writing mistakes that I’m shocked that the editor didn’t spot them. Clichés abound, dialogue is stilted, thoughts and discussions are repeated, and far too many adverbs are used. We’re told what people look like or how they are feeling - skipping around viewpoints within the same page - but rarely shown anything.

There is a huge cast of characters, none of them particularly well-drawn, and it didn’t seem to matter if I forgot who was whom. Elizabeth is the main character, and there are some diary-style thoughts of hers given now and again, in italics, although they don’t add much to the plot, merely repeating much of what comes before, in most cases. She has several advisors whom she trusts, who all seem remarkably similar and two-dimensional.

Apparently this book is the third of a trilogy, but I didn’t feel as if I were missing out on anything, nor do I have even the slightest inclination to get hold of either of them.

Really not recommended - however my friend evidently liked it, and some of the reviews online are good, so if you like this style of writing, you might enjoy the novel more than I did.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

Searching for Sunday (by Rachel Held Evans)

(Amazon UK link)

I don’t remember when I first came across the thought-provoking blog by Rachel Held Evans; perhaps a friend pointed me in her direction, or maybe I came across it after following a link from elsewhere. She is an American Christian believer who would be considered progressive - even liberal - by many; she struggled at times with the church of her younger days, and writes movingly about much of her journey through questioning and faith, and eventually back to a community of other believers.

Since I like her writing so much, it seemed like a good idea to put one of her books on my wishlist. I was very pleased to be given ‘Searching for Sunday’ for my birthday earlier in the year, and have been reading it, a few chapters at a time, over the past couple of weeks.

Subtitled, ‘Loving, leaving and finding the church’, the book is partly biographical. It charts the author’s journey from the passionate evangelical faith of a child through disillusionment, anger, sadness, and eventually leaving behind Sunday services for some years. It tells us of her college days, of some of her friends, of her marriage, of an experiment with a new and truly progressive church, and the eventual discovery of a very different kind of congregation from the one she grew up in.

It’s structured in seven main sections, each one entitled by one of the sacraments recognised by many liturgical churches: not just baptism and holy communion, but confession, ordination, confirmation, marriage, and anointing the sick. That might sound very formal, but more than anything these are used as structures on which to spread the story in a way that makes the path easy to follow. In the first section, ‘baptism’, for instance, we read of the author’s childhood faith, her actual baptism as a believer, and - among other things - her intense dislike of youth group games, something which, as a fellow Introvert, I could strongly relate to.

Within each section there are several short chapters, some of them only a few pages long, charting another part of the journey, or taking a brief aside to look at what can be meant by the sacrament concerned. It flows beautifully, and the writing style was exactly right: expressing, very often, things I have thought or felt, but have somehow not been able to put into words.

Having finished the book, I feel encouraged, and inspired, and a great deal more relaxed and positive about my own journey, and my many struggles with some forms of organised church. While I’m not as proactive as Rachel Held Evans and would hate being in the limelight, giving talks as she has done and taking on leadership roles, I suspect there’s a place for each of us in some form of community, even if it takes years to find it.

It doesn’t preach or prescribe; it shares thoughts, and offers ideas, and new ways of considering our relationship with Jesus and with each other. The author is honest about her own failings and acknowledges many who have held her hand and helped her along the rocky road. 

I would recommend this book to anyone who questions fundamentalist style evangelicalism, or rigidity of doctrine, or indeed who has difficulties with the upbeat nature of so many churches.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

Why Shoot a Butler? (by Georgette Heyer)

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve read, collected, re-read and mostly loved Georgette Heyer’s historical novels over nearly forty years now; so it was quite a shock to me to learn, only about twelve years ago, that she had also written a dozen detective novels set in the middle of the 20th century. I was pleased to be able to find several of them second-hand and was given others as presents. So now it’s time to start re-reading some of them.

I first read ‘Why Shoot a Butler’ in 2003; I actually read it aloud to my sons who were teenagers at the time, and it worked very well. While Heyer’s settings and situations are reminiscent of some of Agatha Christie's prolific crime novels, her characters are rather better developed.

This one features Frank Amberley, a barrister who is also a very good amateur detective. We first meet him driving along a lonely road, trying to follow convoluted instructions from his cousin. He sees a parked car with someone standing nearby and stops to ask directions; the meeting is rather stressful, all the more so when he realises that the passenger in the car is looking very peculiar…

As with this genre, the unpleasant details are left to the imagination; Amberley draws his own conclusions despite apparent evidence to the contrary, speaks to local police, and eventually reaches his cousin’s home. He’s quickly drawn into the society of local friends, and also caught up in the ongoing saga that starts with the crime he discovered in the first chapter.

Heyer doesn’t leave such good clues and false trails as Christie; I had entirely forgotten the story, and didn’t have much idea where the plot was going. I wasn’t particularly surprised when the unveiling takes place towards the end, but the accompanying motivation and underlying plot was a bit surprising, and not something that I think a reader could possibly have guessed.

Still, it doesn’t matter because this is as much a character-based novel and low-key thriller as a classic logical whodunit. There’s a very exciting and tense scene towards the end, where I could hardly put the book down. Amberley’s character is complex, with a dry sense of humour and abrupt manner which hides a compassionate man with a good sense of intuition and a brilliant mind.

Recommended to anyone who likes the light crime fiction genre.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

Apple Bough (by Noel Streatfeild)

(Amazon UK link)

I have loved Noel Streatfeild’s books for close to fifty years now. I don’t know which one I read first, but there were several on my grandparents’ shelves which I read as a child, and more which I collected or borrowed from libraries in my teens. They’re the kind of books that tell good stories with believable (if a little caricatured) people; they usually feature reasonably happy families, are eminently re-readable. If I want an undemanding and, peaceful read for an afternoon on my own, they make a good choice.

It’s many years since I last read ‘Apple Bough’, which is sometimes known in the US as ‘Traveling [sic] Shoes’. It’s about the Forum family: Myra, Sebastian, Wolfgang and Ettie. Their parents are both musicians, somewhat impoverished, and delightfully vague. Sebastian is discovered to have a significant talent as a violinist when he’s only eight, and is invited on a six-month tour. Their mother refuses to split the family, and thinks that travel would be a great opportunity for the whole family, so she engages a governess, Miss Popple, and they set off…

Six months turns into a year, and by the time the story really gets going, the Forum family have been travelling around the world for four years. The father, a talented pianist, accompanies Sebastian, and they have been earning plenty of money as well as living in hotels and other upmarket accommodation. But the other three children feel increasingly homesick, and Myra in particular wants to settle down somewhere and be reunited with her dog, whom she had to leave behind.

Naturally, this being a Streatfeild book, Sebastian is not the only talented child in the family. Ettie is a very promising ballet dancer, and Wolfgang wants to write pop music. He’s also rather good at reciting and showing off in general. Myra feels the odd one out; she has no artistic or musical gifts, and spends her time trying to look after her younger siblings.

I thought that Myra was very well drawn; she reminds me a bit of Ann Robinson in the ‘Gemma’ books, but without Ann’s fabulous voice. Ettie is another Posy Fossil, or Lydia Robinson, who cares for nothing but her ballet and is (naturally) outstanding. Sebastian is the one we get to know least, although I found myself feeling quite sorry for him, particularly towards the end when he becomes very stressed.

It’s a nice story about reaching one’s dreams, and about the way that talents are not always obvious ‘stage’ ones. While the children are similar to other Streatfeild children, the family dynamics are different in every book and that’s what makes me keep reading. The conversations feel quite realistic and there are one or two places that I found extremely moving.

Highly recommended to children from the age of about eight or nine, and any teens or adults who like reading this kind of older children’s fiction.

Not currently in print, but widely available second-hand.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

September (by Rosamunde Pilcher)

(Amazon UK link)

I love Rosamunde Pilcher’s writing, and have collected all her books over the years. I think I’ve read them all at least twice, but like to re-read every nine or ten years. I was long overdue re-reading this book, a saga style novel of over 600 pages, but finally picked it from my shelves a week ago, and have just completed it.

The main story of ‘September’ is the planning and build-up to a dance, given for a young woman called Katy who is approaching twenty-one. However she doesn’t feature much in the book at all, and neither does her mother, who comes up with the idea several months before the event. Instead, the various storylines revolve around two families who live in the Scottish village nearby: the Airds and the Balmerinos.

I remember, when I read it before, that I found it a bit hard, sometimes, to remember exactly who was whom, so I made more of an effort with the names this time. Violet Aird is easy; she’s in her late seventies, a large and comfortable woman who lives on her own. Her son Edmund is married to Virginia, who is rather younger than he is, and it’s his second marriage. He has a grown-up daughter Alexa who lives in London, from his first marriage, and eight-year-old Henry.

Archie is Lord Balmerino, traumatised and disabled by being in the army in Northern Ireland during the ‘troubles’, and his wife, Isabel, works very hard to keep the finances afloat. They have two children too: Lucilla is backpacking around Europe at the start of the book, and Hamish, who is twelve, is mostly at boarding school. Archie has a sister, Pandora, who eloped twenty years previously with a married man, and has never returned, though they keep hoping she will…

We meet each of these people and other friends and neighbours in their homes, getting to know them gradually, entering into their lives. I particularly liked (though I had forgotten) that Alexa becomes friendly with Noel Keeling, who was an important part of Pilcher’s best-known book ‘The Shell Seekers’. Lucilla and her travelling companion Geoff go to stay with Pandora in Majorca, and everyone gradually starts to focus on the upcoming party.

The first few chapters take place in May, and the book gradually moves through the months, focussing in snippets on different characters, their storylines intertwining, and learning more about each of them. Pilcher has a great gift of characterisation, particularly for children and the elderly; I found myself liking Violet very much, and also Edie, who works as a home help for her, but is also one of her oldest friends.

Henry, too, is a delightful little boy, and one of the subplots involves growing tension between his parents; his father wants him to go to boarding school but his mother is convinced he is not yet ready. I remember finding this particular story very stressful when I first read it, particularly when Henry takes matters into his own hands… but liked it so much better this time around.

I was also aware of other things that are not revealed until the final chapters; I had forgotten those relating to Archie and an old friend of Virginia’s, but had remembered most of the Pandora storyline, shocking first time around, but movingly done.

There are many sensory details woven into the novel which I took the time to read and savour rather than skimming, and many conversations and events which I had completely forgotten. Overall, it’s a wonderful book; perhaps, since it takes place over just four months, it’s not technically a saga - yet in the course of those months we learn a great deal about not just the present but the previous generation of the families concerned.

I don't move in the kinds of circles Pilcher writes about - shooting parties and high class dinner parties are not my scene, and the thought of sending a small child to boarding school is an anathema, not something I would ever expect. The amount of drinking is foreign to me too, and the amount of smoking rather shocking, considering that the book was written as recently as 1990. It feels rather older, though, and it's a testament to the author's writing skill that even people so far removed from my own experience came to life and got under my skin.

Highly recommended. I am already looking forward to reading it again in another ten years or so.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

A Leader in the Chalet School (by Elinor M Brent-Dyer)

(Amazon UK link)

In my gradual re-reading of the entire Chalet School series by Elinor M Brent-Dyer, I feel as if I’m on the last stretch now. I’ve just finished the 45th (according to the hardback numbering) out of the original 58. That means they’re less familiar to me. As a child I re-read the first twenty or so, which were at my grandparents’ house, most summers. I then took the later ones out of my secondary school library, one or two at a time, in my teens. My mother then started collecting them, and I dipped into some of them now and again… eventually acquiring the entire set from her.

A Leader in the Chalet School follows directly after Ruey Richardson - Chaletian which I read a few months ago. My edition of this is the Armada paperback, but according to experts, although there are frequent cuts in the text, they are all minor. So there are no vast missing sections, and thus no real reason to look for a hardback or a ‘Girls Gone By’ edition.

Jack Lambert is the new girl in this book; niece of Gay Lambert, of ‘Gay from China…’, and a tomboy who hates her full name of Jacynth, Jack has longed to come to the Chalet School for some years, but when finally there, aged 11, she finds herself rather hemmed in by rules and regulations. She’s a likeable, scrupulously honest girl but full of curiosity and mischief.

Len Maynard, oldest of Joey’s long family by a few minutes, takes Jack under her wing. We’re told rather too often in this book that Len is taking on the mantle of both her mother and Mary-Lou, something that can easily be seen, but Len does it in her own style and her character emerges quite nicely in this book. She’s quite mature for fifteen, taking on responsibility naturally, and accepting Jack’s questions with - for the most part - fortitude and humour.

The book follows the usual classroom anecdotes and entertainments, enlivened by Jack’s determination to play tricks on her classmates and even the staff, although she eventually learns that this kind of thing is not encouraged at the Chalet School. Jack is a good character and is quickly adopted as a friend by some of her classmates, much to the consternation of another girl who decides she doesn’t like Jack at all…

It’s a quick read, more so because of being the paperback, and I liked it rather more than some of the recent ones I’ve read. In a couple of places I almost laughed aloud at some of the things that happened, or the way somebody spoke. I was mildly frustrated by an odd continuity error: Len’s triplet Margot, in an early chapter, is said to be singing the part of the Fairy Queen in the St Mildred’s pantomime; but when the pantomime is performed (happily without a blow-by-blow account) and then discussed by the triplets afterwards, there is no mention of Margot’s having been in it.

But overall, I enjoyed it very much. It must be twenty years or more since I last read it, and I had entirely forgotten the storyline.

Not currently in print but sometimes available second-hand.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

The Dean's Watch (by Elizabeth Goudge)

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve read several of Elizabeth Goudge’s books over many decades now, after first coming across her children’s novel ‘The Little White Horse’ when I was a young teenager, and then one of her ‘Damerosehay’ series in my late teens. I’ve collected quite a few of her books now, mostly second-hand from charity shops or thrift stores where they can often be found inexpensively. Her writing is something of an acquired taste, and will not appeal to everyone as it can be slow-moving and highly descriptive.

It must be around eighteen years since I first acquired and read ‘The Dean’s Watch’. I had totally forgotten it when I picked it up to re-read a few days ago, and was at first a little daunted by the small print and lengthy paragraphs. I thought I would read a few pages… and found myself quite quickly caught up in the lives of the characters.

The story is set in the latter part of the 19th century. We first meet Isaac Peabody, a master craftsman who is the town watch and clock-maker. He puts immense effort and creativity into everything he makes, and also into the frequent repairs he must do. We learn a little about his past, and about the stress he experiences living with his spinster sister Emma. Isaac, unusually for his time, is a devout atheist.

The next chapter introduces us to the city, with a quick run through the centuries, eventually reaching 1865 when Adam Ayscough is installed as Dean. He’s described as ‘terrible’, yet he wants to see the city rejuvenated, the slums replaced by airy, pleasant dwellings for the poor, and the workhouse reformed. The city is most likely based on Ely, a town in Cambridgeshire where Goudge spent some of her childhood.

The other main characters in the novel are Polly, who works as a maid for Isaac and Emma, and Job, a teenage boy who currently works as apprentice for a violent and unpleasant fishmonger. Each of these people is lovingly introduced, and painted in such a way that there is never any danger of confusing them. There’s a lot of sensory description of both places and events, and I did, once or twice, skim a paragraph or two. But part of the enjoyment of Goudge’s writing is her evocative description, so I tried to make the effort to read more slowly, to savour the words and better imagine the surroundings in which these people live.

The plot, such as it is, revolves around the Dean gradually getting to know a few of the people in the city, and enabling their lives to become happier. He’s an old man and evidently in failing health. His wife rather despises him, but he has a great capacity for love, and only really discovers it during the course of the story. His watch, mended by Isaac, gives the title to the book, but I assume it has a double meaning, also describing the Dean’s watchfulness over his beloved city and its inhabitants.

As a piece of social history it gives excellent insights into ordinary people of all classes, and the customs and social niceties of the times. It’s undoubtedly a Christian book; the Cathedral and the Dean’s faith are highly significant, yet there’s no ‘preaching’ as such. There is, however, a mystical thread: people communicate with God, there are signs and omens, and intuitions so strong that they are as real as words spoken.

There isn’t much action, yet a great deal happens in the lives of several individuals. All in all, it’s a thoughtful and beautifully written book, reminiscent of calmer, slower times - yet bringing stark awareness of how very unpleasant life would have been for those born into the lower or otherwise impoverished classes.

I was surprised at how difficult it was to put down by the time I was around half-way through, and I finished it in just four days.  Definitely recommended to all who like slow-moving character-based and beautifully written stories.

It's the kind of book that is often found in charity shops, so I was a little surprised to see that it was re-printed a few years ago and is currently in print, albeit rather high priced for a paperback that is unlikely to appeal to many.

Review by copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

Clearing away the rubbish (by Adrian Plass)

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve been a great fan of Adrian Plass’s writing ever since I first picked up his original ‘Sacred Diaries’ book, over twenty years ago. I found myself almost helpless with laughter at times, yet also inspired and with much to think about. He is a gifted writer and speaker who so often manages to push aside the jargon and religiosity of the Christian life.

It’s nearly nine years since I first read ‘Clearing away the rubbish’, which is a collection of poems and sketches. It has a general aim of helping people to get rid of the clutter that so often consumes our minds and hearts, to find Jesus and realise that he truly does love us.

Adrian Plass writes from the heart, some of the poems stemming from his depressive illness, some from his time working with severely disadvantaged children, sometimes from his own childhood confusion and uncertainty. Others are sillier; deliberately so, mimicking some of the foolish things we often take for granted. The sketches are designed to be performed as part of talks or presentations, and ownership of the book grants a limited license to perform any of its pieces, so long as they are in an amateur context, not for profit.

This isn’t my favourite of Plass’s books. Poems aren’t really my thing, and while I appreciated some of the humour in the sketches, I’m sure they would work much better if seen on stage. I did like the author’s own comments about each of the pieces, and why they were included, but at the same time found myself increasingly irritated that, in quite a few of them, the initial commentary gave ‘spoilers’, meaning that the punch-line or point of the piece immediately following was rather a damp squib.

It took me until over half-way through the book to realise how to solve this problem, by reading each introductory commentary AFTER the piece concerned, so my gripe, if I can call it that, is with the publisher for not making this more straightforward.

It’s not a book to read straight through; I read a few pages each day for about ten days, so I had a chance to think about them. I’m not sure it’s even a book intended for people like me who have not the smallest inkling towards public speaking or performance.

But most of the contents were interesting, and I think there could be gems in here for someone wanting to make a visual or verbal point as part of a presentation on the topic of ‘clearing away the rubbish’, so would recommend it in a low-key way.

Not currently in print, but can fairly often be found second-hand either online or in charity shops or church bookstalls.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

Queen of the big time (by Adriana Trigiani)

(Amazon UK link)

Sometimes when I acquire a new (to me) book, I can hardly wait to read it. Other times, it sits on my to-be-read shelf for months, maybe longer. This particular one, the third I’ve read by Adriana Trigiani, has been waiting for nearly four years. A note inside mentions that I bought it at a church bookstall as long ago as September 2012.

But I finally started to read ‘Queen of the big time’ about five days ago, and finished it this morning. At first I only read, as I usually do, for twenty minutes or so at bedtime. But I found that the characters got under my skin and I wanted to know where the story was going, so I picked it up at other random times through the day, and then read the last 100 pages or so in one sitting.

It’s the story of a young Italian American girl called Nella, who is the narrator of most of the novel. We first meet her in 1924 when she is fourteen, and eagerly awaiting a visit from her beloved school teacher. The local school only goes as far as seventh grade, but Nella’s teacher thinks she has the potential to go to the high school in the town three miles away. Nella and her family live on a farm, and she is the middle daughter of five.

The rest of the book is about Nella growing up and growing into adulthood and middle age. She makes a good friend at the high school, realises that her oldest sister isn’t as mean as she sometimes appears, recognises how hard her parents work… and has to make difficult decisions about work, study and love. It’s impossible to say much more without giving spoilers, but this is primarily a character-based book, based in part on reminiscences from the author’s father and grandmother.

The writing style is fairly slow paced, with descriptions that I sometimes skimmed, and conversations that felt, to me, entirely believable. I know almost nothing about the Italian American communities, but there’s an authentic touch that made them come alive in my mind. I particularly appreciated the insights into workers in a clothing factory, a topic which had not previously interested me at all. The author is skilled in painting pictures of people’s lives and occupations without any hint of being overtly educational or researched.

I am not much like Nella in personality: she’s outgoing, determined, confident in business, and extremely hard-working. I related more to her sister Elena, who is more of a shadowy character. But I very much enjoyed Nella’s take on life, the reasons for the decisions she makes, and her growing awareness of who she really is, something that doesn’t hit her fully until she’s in her fifties.

The Catholic Church has a big part to play in this novel, and I appreciated insights into the way the ceremonies happened, and how respected the priests were in this era. There’s no ‘preaching’, but a great deal of questioning, and a realistic view of the frailty of everyone, no matter how devout. There are some unexpected and tragic incidents in the novel, but they’re sensitively dealt with. Given the era and the circumstances, they’re probably realistic.

The ending is gentle and open, and there’s then a bittersweet epilogue, one I’m still not certain about. The book could have finished without it; yet this rounds it off in a way that helped bring it to completion.

Recommended to anyone who likes historical fiction based originally on real people, with no real plot other than the unfolding and developing of somebody’s life.

Re-printed recently in the US, though not currently in print in the UK. Widely available second-hand.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews

The Corinthian (by Georgette Heyer)

(Amazon UK link)

I have been reading books by Georgette Heyer ever since I was given a selection of her regency romances in my teens, by one of my aunts. Over the years I have managed to collect all the rest of Heyer’s books that are in print, mostly second-hand, and have sometimes even replaced one or two that were falling apart through to too many re-reads.

I like to pick up a Heyer novel when I need something relaxing, engrossing, and yet not too demanding. ‘The Corinthian’ is one that I acquired and first read in 1987, and then re-read twice in the 1990s, and most recently in 2006. It was more than time for another re-read.

The story is about Sir Richard Wyndham, a rather bored upper-class ‘Corinthian’ - a term used for an elegantly dressed man of fashion who was also an excellent rider, and (respected at the time) skilled in other sports. Richard is in his late twenties and his family keep urging him to get married. His father made an agreement many years previously that he should marry Melissa, a rather upright and outspoken young woman from a well-born but impecunious family.

He has decided that, since he has never fallen in love with anyone else, he might as well propose to her, but the prospect is rather depressing so he goes to his club, and gets somewhat inebriated. He sets off home in the early hours, and is startled to see someone climbing out of a window…

Sir Richard finds himself embroiled in unexpected adventures with the impetuous and delightful Pen Creed who is running away from home, planning to find her childhood sweetheart. A straightforward journey is fraught with dangers and unlikely people, and all written in Heyer’s historically realistic and exuberant style. I have learned more about the 18th and 19th centuries from her writing than I ever did in school history lessons.

It’s not one of my absolute favourite books; there are some unpleasant scenes towards the end, which I had entirely forgotten in the past ten years. Moreover, the ending is a little more sudden than I would have liked, although entirely satisfactory. But it was an enjoyable light read, and certainly fulfilled my requirements of a good story that is undemanding and pleasant to read.

Regularly re-printed in various paperback editions.

Review copyright 2016 Sue's Book Reviews