Sunday miscellany: progress in bookish projects, and the TBR Triple Dog Dare

I don't want to jinx anything, but when I took a look recently at two book-related projects I've been working on, I was pleasantly surprised to see some real progress.

First, my TBR number has shrunk to 237. That is the lowest it has been since I started tracking it back in 2008. Considering I started this year at 305, I am pretty happy with that number. I'd like to get it down to 200 by the end of the year, and then under 100 in 2016. (My ultimate goal is around 25.) I just need to stick to my "one in, one out" rule for unread books. I've also been focusing on the oldest books in the stacks. I'm currently looking at those I've had unread since 2002. Teresa of Shelf Love just wrote about her TBR pile, and she mentioned that she has a 5-year expiration date for unread books. I'm tempted to try that sometimes, a clean sweep of the old books, but there are still some I want to read - including a lot of Anthony Trollope. Next up from the 2002 section: his Orley Farm.

Second, I have finally hit the half-way mark in my "Mid-Century of Books." This is a project to read one book from each year between 1850 and 1949. I knew I'd never been able to complete this in a year, as others have done. I'm now in my second year, and it could well take me another two to finish. Jane from Beyond Eden Rock, who started the "Mid-Century" project, has made hers more challenging by limiting herself to one book per each author. I on the other hand have included multiple books by Anthony Trollope on my list, as well as Dorothy Canfield Fisher, E.O. Somerville and Martin Ross. I need to write something about (re)reading The Last Chronicle of Barset, and then I can cross 1867 off the list as well - and Orley Farm will take care of 1862. I was thinking the other day that it would be interesting to read through the years in order, rather than randomly as I have done, but I'm not sure that would have been practical, particularly given how many years are still blanks on my list. I need to start looking for books from the 1850s, to start with.

Speaking of book-related projects, James of James Reads Books has just announced the final round of his TBR Dare - a Triple Dog Dare. This is a dare to read only from your TBR shelves for the first three months of the new year. Last year, my fourth time taking the Dare, I gave up half-way through - not to read new books, but because of an irresistible temptation to re-read (Dorothy Dunnett in particular). Still, I managed to clear quite a few books off the TBR shelves. So I am signing on again, but this time with a goal: three months or 35 books, whichever comes first. I'm also going to claim my usual exemptions, one for Lois Bujold's latest Vorkosigan novel, and one in case Deborah Crombie publishes her new book in those months. I think the last Elizabeth Peters book is scheduled for posthumous publication in April, but just in case I'm putting that on the exemption list as well. I'm glad that James is hosting this again - hopefully it won't really be the last round.

Signing on for another round of the TBR Dare

I am thankful that James of James Reads Books is hosting another round of his annual TBR dare.  This year, it's the Double Dog Dare!  You may already know the dare: to read only from your TBR shelves from January 1st to April 1st of 2015.  Any books on hold at the library by Dec. 31st of this year are also eligible.  This will be my fourth year of participating, and it's not easy.  But I do feel a sense of accomplishment (and a bit of relief) in crossing books off the TBR list, while trying not to add too many new ones.  This year again I'll donate a dollar for every book (finished or not) to RIF (Reading Is Fundamental), a children's literacy non-profit.  As the (pretty flexible) rules allow, I am claiming exemptions for book club books, and also for the new book by Laurie R. King, a Sherlock Holmes & Mary Russell story to be released in February.  I am also mulling over allowing myself one comfort re-read each month if needed - because I'd still be reading from my own shelves.

I have an idea in the back of my mind that I might carry this on past April.  We'll see - that's easy to say now.  But for the last couple of years, I've had these little notes posted on my computers: "TBR Free in 2015."   They're on my computers because that's where I often learn about new (or new-to-me) books and authors, from blogs and email discussion lists.  And that's also where I all too easily click over to book-buying websites.  Realistically, there is no way I will make that goal now.  And there will be new books that I want to read, and some to add to my shelves.  I don't think I'll ever not have a TBR stack - but it would be nice to have a stack and not shelves of them.  Sometimes I feel like a book hoarder, sometimes I feel guilt over all these unread books, sometimes I'm almost paralyzed by so many choices of what to read next. So I have my eye on 2016 instead.  Maybe.  We'll see how the Dare goes first.

Fall reading

The calendar reminds me that the official First Day of Autumn is September 23rd, the weather is only a degree or two cooler, and we still have another 4-6 weeks of prime hurricane season here on the Gulf Coast. But still, it suddenly feels like we've turned the corner, that summer is coming to an end. And not just because the Halloween candy is already in the stores!

This year September 23rd also brings Deborah Crombie's newest book, To Dwell in Darkness, which I've been anticipating ever since the cliff-hanger that closed the last. The date is marked on my calendar, as is her signing here in Houston later the same week.

In addition, in the next couple of months there are four fall reading events that I'm really looking forward to participating in.  The first, which has already started, is the 9th season of R.I.P., or R.eaders I.mbibing P.eril IX, hosted by Carl of Stainless Steel Droppings.  It runs (appropriately) through Halloween.  This year again I am signing up for "Peril the First," to "Read four books, any length, that you feel fit (the very broad definitions) of R.I.P. literature," defined as "Mystery, Suspense, Thriller, Dark Fantasy, Gothic, Horror, Supernatural."

Ms. Crombie's new book would qualify.  Here are some others I am considering, from my TBR stacks:

• Octavia Butler, Parable of the Sower
• Wilkie Collins, The Woman in White (I'm currently stuck 1/3rd of the way through)
• Monica Dickens, Closed at Dusk
• I.J. Parker, The Convict's Sword
• Mary Stewart, Touch Not the Cat
• Jules Verne, 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea
• Patricia Wentworth, The Chinese Shawl

Next up is Mary Stewart Reading Week, hosted by Anbolyn of Gudrun's Tights.  This will run September 14-21, and it is open to anything related to the author or her work.  I collected quite a few of her books last year, with the first reading week, and I still have several on the TBR shelves.  I am planning to read The Last Enchantment, to finish the Merlin trilogy.  I also have a copy of Geoffrey of Monmouth's The History of the Kings of Britain, a source of many Arthurian legends, which Stewart recommended in an afterword to The Crystal Cave - not as history, but as entertaining fantasy disguised as history.  I'd like to read Touch Not the Cat, which a Mary Stewart quiz suggested as the best match for me.  My friend Susan also told me recently it's her favorite of Stewart's novels.  Reading it would overlap with the R.I.P. challenge, but I think that's allowed.  I am also tempted to re-read The Ivy Tree, just because it's so damn good!

The next event is A More Diverse Universe, hosted by Aarti of Book Lust.  It is a challenge to read and review one book by a person of color during the last two weeks of September (Sept. 14-27).   This year it's open to books in any genre.  From a recommendation I read on Book Riot this morning, I picked up a copy of Secret Daughter, by Shilpi Somaya Gowda, at the library this afternoon.  I know I'm not going to be able to wait to read that one.  I am still making a list for this challenge, but again just from my own TBR shelves I have several possibilities:

• Octavia Butler, Parable of the Sower  [another challenge overlap!]
• Amitav Ghosh, The Glass Palace
• Susie King Taylor, A Black Woman's Civil War Memoirs
• Gail Tsukiyama, The Samurai's Garden
• Vikram Seth, A Suitable Boy - I couldn't finish this in two weeks, but if I start if early, I might could finish it in time to qualify!

As well as the second month of R.I.P., October brings Margaret Kennedy Reading Week, hosted by Jane of Fleur in her World, running October 6-12.  I consider Jane the one who really introduced me to Margaret Kennedy, with her review of Lucy Carmichael, a book I loved almost beyond words (my review is here).  I already had a couple of Kennedy's books on the TBR stacks when Jane announced the reading week.  I took that as an excuse to find still more, so I have a ridiculously wide range to choose from for the week, including The Feast, Troy Chimneys, Act of God, Not in the Calendar, and The Wild Swan.  I also have a very battered second copy of Troy Chimneys that I'd be happy to share, if anyone is having trouble finding her books.  I will be resisting the urge to buy the new Virago editions, as I have (so far) with the new Angela Thirkell editions.

The next couple of months should be rich in reading!

Taking the Triple Dog Dare

It's that time of year, when James from Ready When You Are, C.B. issues his TBR challenge.  This year, it's the fearsome Triple Dog Dare.  The rules are pretty simple: read only what's already on your TBR shelves from January 1st to April 1st of 2104.  No new books, no re-reading, and no library books (except those reserved by Dec. 31st).  There's no ban on buying new books, just on reading them.  I'm going to try not to buy too many, though, because it kind of defeats the purpose of the Dare to be adding new books as fast as I'm clearing old ones off.  And then new books are always so tempting and distracting!

This will be my third year of participating.  Last year I cleared 35 books off the stacks, which wasn't bad, but I know I can do better (my total the first year was 71 books).  Just to make it interesting, I'm going to donate a dollar for each book crossed off the list (finished or not), to RIF (Reading Is Fundamental), a children's literacy non-profit.  As the rules allow, I am claiming my usual exemptions for book club books, and also for Deborah Crombie's latest book.  It will be released on March 25th, and I should be able to wait another week to read it, except the last one ended with such an awful cliffhanger.

Thanks to James for hosting the Dare again this year.  I am cudgeling my brains to figure out what comes after the Triple Dog Dare, so this doesn't really have to be the last.

An unwelcome visitor at the Villa Morandini

The Grey Beginning, Barbara Michaels

Oh, the irony.  After Wildfire at Midnight I wasn't quite ready for more Mary Stewart, so I thought I'd try a draw from the book box.  But I ended up with a book that is first cousin to a Stewart story, one with echoes of Nine Coaches Waiting.  Instead of a French château, there is an ancient Tuscan villa, where a young American woman meets a child count, recently orphaned and very lonely, with a cold and unloving guardian.

The young woman, who narrates the story, is Kathleen Malone Morandini.  Recently widowed when her husband Bart died in a car crash, she has come from her home in Massachusetts to Tuscany.  Against the advice of family and doctors, she feels that she must meet his grandmother, the Contessa Morandini, though the letters she has been sending for months have been ignored.  Kathy arrives at the villa, in the countryside outside Florence, to find the gates firmly shut against her, and she has to force her way into the grounds.  Along the way she meets the ten-year Pietro, playing by himself in the neglected gardens.  When she finally makes her way into the house, she is stunned to learn from the Contessa that Pietro is her only grandson; Bart was her nephew and did not even carry the Morandini name.

This news overwhelms Kathy, who is already feeling ill.  The Contessa leaps to the conclusion that she is suffering from morning sickness, which Kathy is in no state to discuss.  Suddenly she finds herself transformed into a welcome guest, coddled with every luxury.  At first she lacks the resolution to explain the mistake.  Each day she spends at the villa makes that explanation more difficult, and increases the risk that she will be exposed as an impostor.  But meanwhile she is getting to know Pietro, and to feel increasing concern over his isolated, lonely life in a crumbling villa.  She begins to wonder why he is locked in his room every night, and why the Contessa's maid is carrying trays into a wing that is supposedly deserted.  She also wonders about a young American, David Brown, whom the Contessa has hired to search the villa's extensive and overstuffed attics for antiques that she can discretely sell.  He admits that is a bit of a smokescreen; he is really hunting for family papers that he can use for his doctoral dissertation on 19th-century tourism in Italy.  But is that admission just a double-bluff?

I really enjoyed this book, with its modern take on the Gothic novel. It is vintage Barbara Michaels.  The story kept me guessing, surprising me with at least three major plot twists that I never saw coming.  The settings are vividly evoked, particularly the decaying villa set amidst its neglected gardens, but also Florence itself, where Kathy escapes to play tourist.  On one of her trips, she picks up a second-hand copy of The Innocents Abroad, which proves a welcome distraction from the strains of life at the villa. She also buys one called Bride of the Madman, which gives Barbara Michaels a chance to play with some of the conventions of the Gothic novel - even as her character reading the book is herself caught up in a Gothic story.  Does that count as meta-fiction?

This book is the second I've read for the Peril the First, with the R.I.P. VIII challenge.

House-sitting with ghosts

Devil-May-Care, Elizabeth Peters

This is one of my favorites among Elizabeth Peters' many books, and I've been wanting to read it again ever since I learned of her death last month.  It is also one of the books on my list for the R.I.P. challenge, where I'm taking on Peril the First.

As the story opens, Henry and Ellie are driving through Virginia to the home of her Aunt Kate, where Ellie will house-sit for a couple of weeks.  Henry, a rising young lawyer in Washington, is thrilled to find that his fiancée, while not yet fully trained to be the wife of a Great Man, has a rich aunt with no children of her own.  He is determined to impress his new-found future aunt, but things don't go quite according to plan.  Ellie waves him good-bye the next morning with a sense of relief, before settling down to enjoy her solitude (by that point, the reader is equally happy to see the back of him).  She spends a peaceful, relaxing rainy day pottering the house.  But that night, on her way upstairs to bed, she encounters a young man:

     . . . a pleasant-looking person, with an attractive smile.  His hair fell in long, wavy locks to his shoulders.  He wore a brown coat with lace at his throat, knee breeches, and white stockings; and, at knee level, a low table with a vase of flowers on it.  The table was the one that normally stood in that part of the hall.  The man was, in a word, transparent.
     As Ellie stood transfixed, he went out - disappeared, vanished, like a light when a lamp is switched off.

His appearance marks the start of a series of increasingly eerie events.  Ellie suspects at first that someone is playing tricks on her, but she is forced to consider that there may be another explanation.  Could there be a connection with an old book that Ellie brought as a present for Kate, a history of the oldest families in the county?  She begins to hear stories, the kind that proud old families try to keep out of the history books.  After she meets her neighbors, Dr. Frank Gold and his son Donald, they join her in trying to figure out what exactly is going on in the house, and who - or what - is behind it.

This is a fun, adventurous story, mixing romance and mystery, with some genuinely creepy moments.  Like all Elizabeth Peters' books, it has some laugh-out-loud moments as well, particularly at the pompous Henry's expense.  Aunt Kate is a great character, outspoken, opinionated and eccentric, given to sudden enthusiasms like Scottish dancing and homeopathic medicine.  She also collects animals, many of them rescues.  Fortunately her house is large enough to accommodate the twelve cats (at least) and six dogs, not to mention a rat named Roger.  And oh that house!  I'd love a chance to house-sit there, ghosts or no.  "The house was originally eighteenth century, but its red brick central core had spread out into innumerable wings."  There is a medieval entry hall complete with refectory table, an 18th-century drawing room with its Aubusson carpet and rosewood piano, a library with three walls and a gallery overflowing with books, a "small cozy parlor in the east wing" with American colonial furniture and framed samplers on the walls.  But most of all I want to move into Kate's workroom, an enormous room cluttered not just with cats, but with craft materials and musical instruments, the walls hung with pictures and posters, "as in an overcrowded and bizarre art gallery," including a map of Middle Earth.  I couldn't live in that kind of chaos, but I'd love to visit.

One of the things that cracks me up about this book is that it is really a "Barbara Michaels" book, disguised as an "Elizabeth Peters" book.  I'm not the first to point this out.  The front cover of my TOR paperback has a quote from Marion Zimmer Bradley: "Barbara Michaels is a wonderful writer, even if she calls herself Elizabeth Peters."  I've always wondered if Barbara Mertz (the author's real name) did that deliberately.  She thought noms de plume were a little silly but accepted the convention.  The most obvious "Michaels" element is the paranormal activity, whatever its source, which occurs in almost all of her books, but rarely if at all in the "Peters" books.  The plot here reminded me very strongly of Barbara Michaels' House of Many Shadows (also a favorite), where a young woman goes to stay at a relative's isolated house in the country (in Pennsylvania rather than Virginia), and ghostly events follow, including an apparition on a staircase.  Aunt Kate reminded me of a younger Mrs. Jackson MacDougal, from Michaels' Ammie, Come Home, as did the romantic pairings here, with a younger couple matching an older.  The book also includes some jabs at Christians, particularly Southern evangelicals, a frequent element in the later Michaels books (and one that makes me uncomfortable).  Religion plays little part in the Peters books, though Amelia Peabody Emerson is a staunch Anglican who attends church regularly, but really I suspect she and her entire family expect to meet Osiris and his judgement in the next life.

But whether this is a "Michaels" or a "Peters" book doesn't matter in the end, it's a great read either way.  I may end up with more of both authors' books on my RIP list.

Joining in R.I.P. VIII

 image credit here

I am excited to join the R.I.P. reading challenge this year, for the first time.  "R.I.P." of course stands for "Readers Imbibing Peril," and it is hosted by Carl at Stainless Steel Droppings.  The challenge runs from September 1st to October 31st, with two main goals, according to Carl:  first, "Have fun reading (and watching)" mysteries, gothics, thrillers, supernatural stories; and second, "Share that fun with others."

 
I am signing up for Peril the First, to read four books that fit the R.I.P. theme.  Here's a list of potential reads:

1. E.F. Benson's The Collected Ghost Stories - which I started reading two years ago
2. I.J. Parker's The Hell Screen - I've been wanting to get back to this series
3. Elizabeth Peters' Devil May Care - since learning of Peters' death, I've been thinking of my favorites among her books
4. Georgette Heyer's The Quiet Gentleman - the Heyer discussion group I belong to is reading this in September (and it's my favorite)
5. Mary Stewart's The Ivy Tree, or Touch Not the Cat or Wildfire at Midnight
6. Rhys Bowen's Heirs and Graces - just published
7. Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House
8. Baroness Orczy, Lady Molly of Scotland Yard
9. Anthony Hope's Rupert of Hentzau - I need some swashbuckling adventure in my life

In addition, I may join the "Peril on the Screen," since I'm always tempted to watch Tim Burton's "Sleepy Hollow" around Halloween, and I'm working my way through "Ghost Whisperer" via Netflix.

September also brings the Mary Stewart Reading Week, hosted by Anbolyn at Gudrun's Tights.  I've been collecting her books in anticipation, and they neatly fit the R.I.P. theme.  According to the "Which Mary Stewart Novel Should You Read?" quiz on Anbolyn's site, Touch Not the Cat is the best match for me, but I've been thinking about her Merlin novels lately, the last two of which I still haven't read.

I hope to read some really great books in the next two months, and I look forward to seeing what others are reading and watching.

The TBR Double Dog Dare comes to an end

We're in the final hours of the TBR Double Dog Dare (the last three, here in US Central Time), and at this point I think I can safely say I survived it!  The challenge, hosted by James at Ready When You Are, C.B. starting January 1st, was to read only from our own TBR stacks.  My one real temptation, as I'd previously confessed, was a copy of Les Misérables that I couldn't resist buying.  But I managed to put it down after only 32 pages, and read The Count of Monte Cristo from the TBR stacks instead.  I am looking forward to getting back to it, especially since the saintly Bishop Myriel, who trades his vast episcopal palace for a paupers' hospital, makes me think of the new Pope Francis.

This year's challenge felt much easier than last year's, but it turned out to be less productive.  I only cleared 35 books from the shelves (versus 61 last year).  Again this year I let a lot of books go that I hadn't read, recognizing that in reality I was not ever going to read them, I was just holding on to them out of a sense of obligation, because I'd spent money on them, or I felt I should read them.  Moving of course helped with this process.  I found that asking the question, "Do I want to pack and move this book?" made it easy to decide. (It is always interesting to see my former books on the library sale shelves; I hope they find good homes.)

I was sorry to see from James's post today that he won't be hosting a Triple Dog Dare in 2014.  The TBR Dares have challenged me to think about how I add to my TBR stacks.  I've had to recognize how often the new additions distract me from the books I already own but have never read.  I also have to recognize how often I'm swayed by an enthusiastic review into thinking, Oh, I want to read that too!  And how quickly that thought leads me to ABE or Amazon, with their seductive one-click buying.  I'm trying to step back a bit, and ask myself: Do I need to own this book, or do I just really want to read it?  That feels like an important question to ask, looking at my TBR shelves. In some way, whether it's a New Year's resolution, or a Lenten practice, I will need to challenge myself on my overflowing TBR shelves again.

Which isn't to say that I didn't add to the TBR shelves over these past few months, as I've admitted elsewhere.  The good news is that I shed more than I gained, though not by much.  And I can't help but be excited by the new ones.  I'm tempted to stay up til midnight, just for the fun of starting one (Miss Cayley or Miss Dickens?).  I'm also really looking forward to some re-reading.  Lately I've been thinking about the later books in the Anne of Green Gables series, the ones I hardly ever read, which I had to dig out from the back of the shelves this morning.  And Saturday afternoon I went to the county library and brought home five books; I have three more waiting at the city library.  I have missed the library, the fun of wandering the stacks or browsing the catalogue, and the complete lack of guilt over taking out too many books and returning them unread.

Thank you again to James for hosting and challenging us!

Completing the Classics Challenge

December brings us to the end of the Classics Challenge, hosted by Katherine at November's Autumn.  I had never joined a challenge before when I signed up for this last November (along with the TBR Double Dare).  I have really enjoyed participating, in reading the books and then considering different aspects of them through the monthly prompts.  I've also enjoyed seeing what others have read, which has added some books to my TBR shelves.  Thanks again to Katherine for hosting us!

I didn't manage to read everything on the list that I originally drew up for the Challenge (which fortunately didn't disqualify me) :

1. Jane Austen's Persuasion - which I'm currently re-reading.
2. Anthony Trollope's The Three Clerks
3. Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own - still on the TBR shelves.
4. George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion
5. Mary Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Women - also still languishing on the TBR shelves.
6. Jerome K. Jerome's Three Men on the Bummel
7. Henry Fielding's Tom Jones - I made it to page 452 (of 871) before giving up - but I will finish it.

Other classics I posted about for the Challenge include Charlotte M. Yonge's The Heir of Redclyffe, Oscar Wilde's Salome and The Importance of Being Earnest, Mark Twain's The Innocents Abroad, and William Makepeace Thackeray's Vanity Fair.

Now I'm off to collect my cool "challenge completed" button!

The Classics Challenge: November and the Victorians

For the November segment of her Classics Challenge, Katherine at November's Autumn posted a series of questions about the classics we've read over the past months.  We're free to answer any or all of the questions, the first of which is, "Of all the Classics you've read this year is there an author or movement that has become your new favorite?"

It isn't really a movement, but I have had a wonderful year of reading Victorian writers, in such a rich variety.  I started this challenge with Charlotte M. Yonge, whose The Heir of Redclyffe is still one of my favorite books of the year.  And then I just read Mary Cholmondeley's Red Pottage, which is completely different from The Heir but an equally engrossing read.  It's a shame that these authors' other works are so hard to find, at least in print.  I also have to include Emily Eden's Up the Country, a collection of letters from a trip up the Ganges starting in 1837, which provide a fascinating and unique perspective on India under British rule.  Reading The Mill on the Floss helped me understand why George Eliot is considered such a great writer, and it gave me confidence that I will try Middlemarch again one day.

This was also the year I read William Makepeace Thackeray's Vanity Fair for the first time.  I'm only sorry I waited so long to meet the immortal Becky Sharp.  And then there is my continuing love affair with Anthony Trollope's novels.  Of the three I read this year, The Three Clerks is easily my favorite and one of the liveliest of his wonderful stories.

In another of her questions, Katherine asks, "From reading other participants' posts which book do you plan to read and are most intrigued by?"  I was very intrigued by posts on Alexandre Dumas's The Count of Monte Cristo, which as I've mentioned is already on my TBR stacks (and weighing them down at 1243 pages, not counting notes & introduction).  I also look forward to reading more of all the authors that I've included here. They have so enriched my reading this year, as have these discussions around the Challenge.

Taking the Double Dog Dare

James of Ready When You Are, C.B., is once again hosting a TBR reading dare - and he's upping the ante with the Double Dog Dare for 2013.  Accepting the dare means agreeing to read only from your own TBR stacks from January 1st to April 1st.  I've signed up again; I need to.  This is the first year that I'll have e-books in the mix, as well as the actual volumes on the shelves (though my Nook is pretty well stocked with out-of-print 19th century novels, I still haven't managed to read an entire e-book since I got it).

I did pretty well with the 2012 Double Dare, clearing 71 books off the stacks by April 1st.  At that point, I felt like I'd easily meet the one reading goal I'd set myself for this year: to read all the books I bought within the year.  Then came my trove of Trollope discovery, all those lovely fat Oxford World's Classics, the same night that I found William Thackeray's Pendennis (all 1000 pages of it).  Adding The Count of Monte Cristo (1128 pages) and Mary Chestnut's Civil War (836 pages) to the TBR shelves pretty much nixed any chance I had of meeting my goal, never mind the other, shorter books that keep arriving.

As James's rules allow, I am making an exception for three new books coming out in those months, from favorite authors Dean James, Deborah Crombie, and C.S. Harris.  In theory I should also make an exception for book club books, but then I hardly ever manage to read along with either of the groups to which I belong.

I think this Dare will dovetail nicely with the Reading Presently project that Simon is organizing over at Stuck in a Book, to focus on books received as gifts.  I haven't been counting those in the TBR totals, but as I said elsewhere, I haven't been reading them either.  And just this month I won a lovely copy of Graham Greene's Stamboul Train from Falaise at 2606 Books and Counting... 

The Classics Challenge: October and a chapter of Trollope

This month, for her Classics Challenge, Katherine at November's Autumn asks us to write on "the chapter you've just read or one that struck you the most. It can be as simple as a few words you learned, some quotes, a summary, or your thoughts and impressions."  I chose Anthony Trollope's The Three Clerks for this month, though I read it back in September (you can read my review here).

Initially I thought of the first chapter, which opens with the words, "All the English world knows, or knows of, that branch of the Civil Service which is popularly called the Weights and Measures."  It struck me as a typical Trollopian opening.  From the first sentence he makes us part of the world of his story.  The tone is confident, and confiding.  "All the English world knows..."  And we who don't know settle in to learn.  Generally with Trollope's books, I find myself hooked into the story by the end of the first chapter, captive to that wonderful warm authorial voice.

But I also have to mention one of my favorite chapters, "Crinoline and Macassar, or, My Aunt's Will."  In this chapter, two of the clerks of the title, Norman and Charley, are visiting their friends the Woodward family at their cottage.  Charley, who works at the much less important Internal Navigation office, is hoping to make some extra money by writing for the papers.  He has brought a story that he has just finished, and Mrs. Woodward reads it aloud to the group after tea.  As you might guess from the title (Crinoline is the heroine, Macassar the hero), it is a ridiculous story, in six chapters, no less, with poetry, though Charley takes it very seriously.  As Mrs. Woodward reads, or tries to read, she is constantly interrupted with questions and comments, advice and opinions freely given, which are just as entertaining as Charley's story itself:

           "The tale must now be told," continued Mrs. Woodward. "In his early years Macassar Jones had had a maiden aunt. This lady died - "
          "Oh, mamma, if you read it in that way I shall certainly cry," said Katie.
          "Well, my dear, if your heart is so susceptible you had better indulge it. This lady died and left behind her -"
          "What?" said Linda.
          "A diamond ring?" said Katie.
          "A sealed manuscript, which was found in a secret drawer?" suggested Linda.
          "Perhaps a baby," said Uncle Bat.
          "And left behind her a will - "
          "Did she leave anything else?" asked Norman.
          "Ladies and gentleman, if I am to be interrupted in this way, I really must resign my task," said Mrs. Woodward; "we shall never get to bed."
          "I won't say another word," said Katie [who interrupts again before her mother finishes the paragraph - "Will you hold your tongue, miss?" her mother says].

To my mind, this chapter shows Trollope's gift for capturing the natural rhythms of conversation.  It's also as funny as anything I can remember in his books.  And if he is laughing at his young author, it's not cruel laughter.  Trollope may even be remembering his own early attempts at writing.  This chapter also reminded me of Louisa May Alcott's Little Women, where Jo's family comments just as freely on her plays and stories, though they treat their "authoress" with much more respect than Charley gets.

The Classics Challenge: August and a little more Thackeray

For this month's round of her Classics Challenge, Katherine at November's Autumn asks us to post a memorable quote or two from our current classic. I'm still caught in the thrall of William Makepeace Thackeray's Vanity Fair, which I posted about yesterday, and when I read her prompt one quote, one scene, came immediately to mind. I'm going to redact names, to avoid spoilers.

"It is not that speech of yesterday," he continued, "which moves you. That is but the pretext, X, or I have loved you and watched you for fifteen years in vain. Have I not learned in that time to read all your feelings and look into your thoughts? I know what your heart is capable of: it can cling faithfully to a recollection and cherish a fancy, but it can't feel such an attachment as mine deserves to mate with, and such as I would have won from a woman more generous than you. No, you are not worthy of the love which I have devoted to you. I knew all along that the prize I had set my life on was not worth the winning; that I was a fool, with fond fancies, too, bartering away my all of truth and ardour against your feeble little remnant of love. I will bargain no more: I withdraw. I find no fault with you. You are very good-natured, and have done your best, but you couldn't - you couldn't reach up to the height of the attachment which I bore you, and which a loftier soul than yours might have been proud to share. Good-bye, X! I have watched your struggle. Let it end. We are both weary of it."

"A woman more generous than you" - "I will bargain no more" - "Let it end. We are both weary of it." I thought there was true, genuine emotion in those words - even before I learned that this scene may have echoed one in Thackeray's own life.

A second quote, from the aftermath of the Battle of Waterloo:

No more firing was heard at Brussels - the pursuit rolled miles away. Darkness came down on the field and city: and Y was praying for Z, who was lying on his face, dead, with a bullet through his heart.

John Carey, who edited the Penguin edition that I read, calls this "the most shattering sentence in English literature . . . Nothing has prepared us for this. To remove [Z] so casually, in a mere subordinate clause, was unprecedented - sudden, callous, unreasonable and shocking, like real death." Reading his words, I felt rather callous myself, because I didn't find the sentence or Z's fate itself all that shattering, knowing how many died on both sides at Waterloo. But perhaps it's also partly from my own reaction to the character.

I'm tempted to quote some of Thackeray's confidential asides to his readers, but I'll restrain myself just to the last line: "Come, children, let us shut up the box and the puppets, for our play is played out." It takes us back to the start of the book, when he addresses us "Before the Curtain," as "the Manager of the Performance."

The Classics Challenge: July and lasting impressions

For the July round of her Classics Challenge, Katherine at November's Autumn asks us to recall the lasting impressions that classic works have left on us, and to look that what we have read this year: "What is a moment, quote, or character that you feel will stay with you? Years from now, when some of the details have faded, that lasting impression the book has left you with... what is it? --or why did it fail to leave an impression?"

The character who has stayed with me most vividly is from the very first book that I posted about for this challenge, back in January: Philip Morville from Charlotte M. Yonge's The Heir of Redclyffe. I found him one of the most insufferable characters that I have ever come across in all my years of reading. He quite easily could have been a hero: a gentleman, handsome, gifted, intelligent and well-educated, with strong principles. He has many virtues, but they are outweighed by his pride and sense of superiority, which lead him to lecture and patronize even his elders. Yet Philip is also a disappointed man, destined for university and a gentleman's life, but left at his father's death without resources. Much against his inclination he has had to make his career in the army instead. This disappointment makes him resent his cousin Guy Morville, the heir of the title, who holds wealth and a title that Philip sometimes covets. Occasionally he seems to recognize in himself a fault or a weakness, and his usual reaction is to point the finger at someone else, often Guy, his most frequent target.

Philip had been used to feel men's wills and characters bend and give way beneath his superior force of mind. They might, like Charles, chafe and rage, but his calmness always gave him the ascendant almost without exertion, and few people had ever come into contact with him without a certain submission of will or opinion. With Guy alone it was not so; he had been sensible of it once or twice before; he had no mastery, and could no more bend that spirit than a bar of steel. This he could not bear, for it obliged him to be continually making efforts to preserve his own sense of superiority.

I had to make my own continual effort to remember that Philip was a fictional character, so immensely did he irk me. I enjoyed the ways that other characters in the book, who found him just as irritating, would bait and challenge him. I also enjoyed watching his story play out. Based on his eventual fate, I doubt that he was Charlotte Yonge's favorite character either.

The Classics Challenge: June with Mark Twain

This is the sixth month of the Classics Challenge, hosted by Katherine at November's Autumn. Our Challenge this month: "Sometimes we come across a scene or description that creates such vivid imagery it moves us. Select a quote from the Classic you're currently reading and create, what I call a visual tour."

I recently read Mark Twain's The Innocents Abroad (my review is here). This is from Chapter XXXI, "The Buried City of Pompeii."

It was a quaint and curious pasttime, wandering through this old silent city of the dead - lounging through utterly deserted streets where thousands and thousands of human beings once bought and sold, and walked and rode, and made the place resound with the noise and confusion of traffic and pleasure.

image source

And so I turned away and went through shop after shop and store after store, far down the long street of the merchants, and called for the wares of Rome and the East, but the tradesmen were gone, and the marts were silent, and nothing was left but the broken jars all set in cement of cinders and ashes; the wine and the oil that once had filled them were gone with their owners.

image source

Compare the cheerful life and the sunshine of this day with the horrors the younger Pliny saw here, the 9th of November, A.D. 79, when he was so bravely striving to remove his mother out of reach of harm . . .

image source

I was lucky enough to visit Pompeii and Herculaneum, and though the streets were far from deserted when I was there - packed with tourists like me - Twain's descriptions still resonated with me.

A side note: I apologize for all the blank spaces in this post. I detest and abhor the new blogger interface, I find it very difficult to use compared with the previous version, and missing important features. I cannot figure out something simple like how to eliminate those extra spaces.

The Classics Challenge: April with Oscar Wilde

The Plays of Oscar Wilde

This is the fourth month of The Classics Challenge, hosted by Katherine at November's Autumn, who posts questions each month around a central theme.  The focus this month is the cover of the book.  Here is mine:

This is a Vintage edition, published in 1988.  Unfortunately the colors on this image aren't right.  My copy is a warm yellow rather than peach, and the border designs are in olive green and purple. The picture of Oscar Wilde is also crisper.

Our questions for this month:
What are your first impressions as you look at the cover?    What I notice first is the image of Wilde.  I think it dominates the cover, though John Lahr's name is almost as prominent as The Plays of Oscar Wilde.

Does the book cover have an aspect that reflects the character, setting, or plot of the novel?    I don't think so, in this case.  I think it is more about the author than the plays.

If you could have designed the book cover what would you have chosen?    With all due respect to John Lahr, whose reviews in The New Yorker I always enjoy, his name would be much less prominent.  I would like to have something from the plays themselves.  Not from any of the film versions, to avoid the look of a movie tie-in (as tempting as it would be to have Colin Firth and Rupert Everett from The Importance of Being Earnest, or Jeremy Northam from An Ideal Husband).  But perhaps something like this, from the very first production of The Importance of Being Earnest, in February of 1895:

Source: Wikipedia

I have seen film versions of An Ideal Husband and The Importance of Being Earnest, which made me want to read the original plays.  But the first one I read from this volume was Salomé, because a production of this play is central to the plot of my favorite Robert Altman film, Cookie's Fortune.  The film takes place over the Easter weekend, so I usually watch it around this time.  I quickly discovered that the actual play is very different than the one presented in the film, and much stranger.  Salomé is a one-act play about the execution of John the Baptist.  As recounted in the Gospels of Matthew and Mark, Herod Antipas (the Tetrarch) had John arrested after he denounced Herod's marriage to his brother's wife Herodias.  At a banquet, Herodias's daughter (who is never named) performed a dance that delighted Herod so much that he promised her anything she wanted as a reward.  Her mother suggested the head of John the Baptist on a platter, and Herod was forced to keep his word.  In the play, John (called Jokanaan) is present but invisible, imprisoned in a cistern from which he booms denunciations and prophecies.  Salomé becomes enthralled with him (as Herod is with her, to her mother's disgust), but John rejects her as evil and loathsome.  After Herod repeatedly begs Salomé to dance, leering at her all the while, she agrees, and then claims her prize, to his dismay. (Spoiler alert) The play ends with Herod's soldiers executing Salomé in turn, crushing her with their shields.

Even with its serious subject, I was surprised at the complete lack of humor in this play, which is played for laughs in Cookie's Fortune.  I can't imagine anyone producing this seriously, with its "historic" dialogue, portentous foreshadowing, and over-the-top descriptions.  In the first lines, the moon is compared to "a woman rising from the tomb. She is like a dead woman. One might fancy she was looking for dead things," and then as a princess "who has little white doves for feet. One might fancy she was dancing."  Salomé is "the shadow of a white rose in a mirror of silver."  She tells John, "I am amorous of thy body, Jokanaan! Thy body is white like the lilies of the field that the mower hath never mowed."  It's tempting to go on quoting the lines from this play, because they just get worse and worse.

What a relief to turn from this to The Importance of Being Earnest, which just gets better and better as the action moves from Algy's flat in London to Jack's house in Hertfordshire.  It's one of the funniest plays I have ever read, and I hope someday to see a really good stage production.  Here again I am tempted to extensive quotation, but I will restrain myself to just one, the inimitable Lady Bracknell's inspection of Cecily, who has just become engaged to Algy:

"Yes, quite as I expected. There are distinct social possibilities in your profile. The two weak points in our age are its want of principle and its want of profile. The chin a little higher, dear. Style largely depends on the way the chin is worn. They are worn very high, just at present."

I understand from the Introduction that the other plays can't match this one, but I'm still looking forward to reading them.

I survived the TBR Double Dare!

Here it is April 1st, and the end of the TBR Double Dare, hosted by James over at Ready When You Are, C.B., and I made it all the way!  Thus ends three months of reading only from my own TBR stacks (with a few library books checked out before January 1st).  I have been trying for three years to reduce the ridiculous number of unread books that I own, but since I add to the piles faster than I read from them, the total TBR number never really goes down.  Claire over at The Captive Reader had a wonderful post yesterday about her new e-reader, and one of the reasons I am still hesitating about getting one myself is knowing just how fast I would fill it up, and how high the TBR count will skyrocket then.  On the other hand, that TBR stack would all be tucked neatly away in the e-reader, rather than sitting there in silent reproach on the shelves.

The first month of the challenge went by pretty quickly, and I was feeling a little smug about how easy it was.  So I was surprised when suddenly in February, it wasn't fun any more.  All those shelves of books, and I didn't want to read any of them.  I wanted something new - or I wanted something old.  Initially I hadn't really taken in the fact that reading from the TBR stack meant no re-reading.  I didn't know how much I would miss it, the comfort of returning to old friends, even before posts about favorite books started popping up.  All the reviews of The Nine Tailors, like Audrey's over on books as food, sorely tempted me in the very last week!

I managed to clear 71 books off the TBR pile, but I didn't read all of those.  Some I tried and gave up on, others I gave away unread.  This challenge helped me figure out that clearly, I need to be more mindful about the books I acquire.  I need to stop buying books that I may want to read someday, like a literary squirrel hoarding books instead of nuts.  I currently have a nine-volume set of Samuel Pepys's diaries, which I bought two years ago, and if I don't get to at least the first volume this year, they're going to a new home.  That leads to a second point, which is that I need to be more realistic about letting go of books that I am not going to read.  Those 71 books had been on the shelves for an average of 5 years and included a couple I'd had for 20 years.  True, with some books it's a question of timing.  I'm currently reading Tethers End, which I've started at least twice before in the six years I've owned it; for some reason, it's clicking now.  But there were and still are books that I really know I won't read, or re-read.  I'm trying to keep in mind Susan Hill's line in Howards End is on the Landing: "You don't have to pay its rent just because it is a book."

I also have to resist the "I want to read that right now" feeling that comes from print and blog reviews, or from a new literary crush - or at least I can resist heading off immediately to Amazon or ABE.  That's what libraries are for, particularly when no matter how glowing a review, there is no accounting for tastes, and in the end I might not like the book.  I've certainly had the experience of enthusiastically recommending something that another reader found disappointing or worse.  That said, I already have waiting for me Jo Walton's Tooth and Claw (Captive Reader - seriously, who could resist "Trollope with dragons"?), Katherine Anne Porter's Pale horse, Pale Rider (Read, Ramble), Mary Stewart's The Ivy Tree (so many enthusiastic reviews of her books at Gudrun's Tights, Pining for the West and She Reads Novels), Gavin Maxwell's Ring of Bright Water (which serendipitously turned up at a library sale just after I read about it on Desperate Reader), and Amitav Ghosh's Sea of Poppies (Shelf Love and Read, Ramble) - but at least one of those is from the library.  And as long as I'm confessing: I do have a small pile of books from my latest literary crushes, Eric Newby and Charlotte M. Yonge.

All in all, I'm very glad I took on the Double Dare, and I thank James for organizing it again and letting me join.  Hopefully I can keep some of these resolutions moving forward, and continue to whittle down the TBR stacks - so the Triple Dare next year will find me in better TBR shape.

The Classics Challenge: January with Charlotte M. Yonge

I'm taking part in the Classics Challenge this year, hosted by Katherine at November's Autumn.  She will be posting questions of the 4th of each month, for us to answer about whichever classic we are reading at the time.  Fortunately, we have all month to post responses, since I was reading a book about the Civil War on January 4th (and even now, the book I'm reading isn't from the list I posted when I signed up for the challenge).  I am reading The Heir of Redclyffe, published in 1853.

This month's discussion focuses on the author, and because I'm not very far into the book, I'm answering the Level 1 questions (I had a lot of fun researching these):

Who is the author?  Charlotte M. Yonge

What does she look like?

(Source: Wikipedia)

When was she born? Where did she live?   She was born on August 11, 1823 and lived in Otterbourne, a village near Winchester in Hampshire.

What does her handwriting look like?



(Source: http://www.richardfordmanuscripts.co.uk/)

 What are some of the other novels she has written?   She wrote over a hundred books, as well as editing a magazine for many years!  She is best known today for The Heir of Redclyffe and The Daisy Chain.  But this title fascinates me: The Cunning Woman's Grandson: a Tale of Cheddar a Hundred Years Ago (published in 1889).

What is an interesting and random fact about her life?   The road that ran through her village of Otterbourne also ran through Chawton, past the "Jane Austen House."

My first challenges

I've never done a challenge before, though I tagged along on the reading of The House of the Seven Gables, which some people were doing for the RIP challenge.  But here I am signing up for two in 2012.

The first is the TBR Double Dare, hosted by C.B. James over at Ready When You Are, C.B.

I'm accepting the dare (the double-dare!) to read only from my own shelves from January 1st -April 1st next year, with the goal of whittling down my TBR pile.  That means no library books, no buying books.  Which I need to do - let's just say the name of this blog isn't strictly accurate at this point.  I know it is going to be tough, because reading blogs has introduced me to some great authors (I just posted about one, Jo Walton, earlier today).  But I've also added too many books to the TBR pile as well.  It should be good for me and for my bookshelves (and maybe even for the book sale at the library - oh lord, something else I'll have to avoid).

The second challenge I've seen popping up all over is A Classics Challenge, hosted by Katherine at November's Autumn.

This one involves reading seven classic novels over the course of 2012, with some directed discussion on the 4th of each month.  This will dovetail nicely with the TBR challenge, since I have these books on the TBR pile:

1. Persuasion, Jane Austen (a re-read)
2. Tom Jones, Henry Fielding
3. Three Men in a Boat and Three Men on the Bummel, Jerome K. Jerome (I've never read the Bummel part)
4. A Room of One's Own, Virginia Woolf
5. The Three Clerks, Anthony Trollope (though I may change this for another Trollope)
6. A Vindication of the Rights of Women, Mary Wollstonecraft
7. Pygmalion, George Bernard Shaw

Thanks to C.B. and Katherine for hosting these and letting me join in.