Tag Archives: classics

The Bird in the Tree

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The Bird in the Tree by Elizabeth Goudge is the first in a trilogy of novels about the fictional Elliot family in England between the two world wars.

Lucilla is the widowed matriarch of the family. She lives with her daughter, Margaret, and long-time maid, Ellen. Currently three of her young grandchildren are staying with her as well. Their parents, her son and daughter-in-law George and Nadine, have been divorced. George is out of the country and Nadine is establishing her own life. Lucilla hopes they will restore their marriage.

Her favorite grandson, David, lived with her from the time he was a boy after his parents died. He’s grown now, an actor, and is coming for a visit. However, when he arrives, she senses something is wrong. It’s not until the next day that he tells her he is in love with Nadine and they plan to marry. They’ve not told anyone else yet.

If it sounds strange that he’s in love with his aunt–she’s several years younger than her husband (his biological uncle) and a few years older than David.

Lucilla is distressed, as David knew she would be. She asks that Nadine come for a visit so she can talk with both of them. She shares why she doesn’t think they should marry: their union would be a blow to family unity, would make it impossible for Nadine and George to reconcile, and would destroy David’s special relationship with Nadine’s children, who loved and missed their father and would have difficulty if David tried to step into that role. Lucilla doesn’t press the issue after that, though she worries and prays.

Then the question becomes whether David and Nadine will follow their passions or do what’s right.

Parts of the book sound like it could have been written today:

His love for Nadine was the most shatteringly real thing that had ever happened to him. It was the truth, and it must be served…

Truth. He would have to try to make Lucilla understand how he felt about it, how it was to him the lamp that lit all life. It would be difficult, for her generation and his felt so differently about this truth. Her generation had built from without inwards, had put the reality of law and tradition above the reality of personal feeling, but his built from within outwards, the truth of personal feeling must come first; when there was no longer reality in a union, smash the union; never mind what laws were broken or what lives were crippled; live the truth.

The young people think that Lucilla, wrapped in “law and tradition,” can’t possibly understand their “truth.” But as we learn more about Lucilla’s past, we see she had her own long struggle between desire and duty.

The family home, Danrosehay, is almost a character of its own in the story. I liked how Lucilla wanted the home to always be a refuge from the storms of life for her present and future family.

There’s an interesting backstory of a historic storm and a sea captain who crashed into the marshes and lived in the area afterward. The story is told near the beginning as just village lore, but it turns out to have great significance for the family later on.

A few other quotes that stood out to me.:

She tried very hard to teach her grandchildren how to extract the last drop of beauty out of all the small things of life, words and scents and sounds.

In times of storm and tempest, of indecision and desolation, a book already known and loved makes better reading than something new and untried. The meeting with remembered and well-loved passages is like the continual greeting of old friends; nothing is so warming and companionable.

I realize now that there is such a mixture of good and evil in all we think and are that everything, every instinct and thought, needs to be tested by the teachings of Christ.

All bereavement, whether fate inflicts it on you or whether the relinquishment is your own, changes you . . . Don’t people say that nature abhors a vacuum? Something lost in the present means something new flowing from the future; often a new and stronger faith.

This was his first big trouble and she hardly knew how to bear it; when she had been young she had borne her own troubles, now she was old she bore her children’s and grandchildren’s and found them far worse to put up with than her own had been.

There is mention of a blackbird singing in an ilex tree about twelve times. With that, and the bird in the title, I felt it had to have some significance. I searched online for a while but didn’t turn up much opinion on that front, though some sources said the ilex tree (mentioned 28 times in the book), a type of holly, was thought to be representative of Christ’s sacrifice. I felt the last line of the book finally gave some insight; but, of course, I can’t share that without spoiling the story.

This book started out with tons of description, of the main characters, the house, the village, and its history. But, once again, once it got into the story, I loved it. The characters are so well drawn that they seem real and relatable. And, though some of the language and situations are a little old-fashioned, the underlying truths are eternal.

The Scent of Water

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The Scent of Water

The Scent of Water by Elizabeth Goudge takes its title from Job 14:7-9, KJV: “For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground; Yet through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth boughs like a plant.”

The novel shares the story of several people in a small English village in the late 1950s, but especially Mary Lindsay. She’s a woman in her fifties in London who began as a teacher, then went into government services, then became something like an administrator for a ministry. She receives word that an aunt for whom she was named has died and left Mary her house in the country and a small legacy. At first Mary plans to go down to Appleshaw, get the house in order, and sell it.

But then she remembers visiting Aunt Mary when she was about eight. Aunt Mary had showed her a collection of “little things,” miniatures, that young Mary had been enchanted with. Aunt Mary had offered to give them to her, but in the busyness of a London home with other siblings, she was afraid they’d get lost or broken.

Mary wonders now whether the “little things” are still there. She uncharacteristically decides to quit her job in London and take possession of Aunt Mary’s home in the countryside.

As Mary starts to get the house in shape, she meets other villagers. There are children next door who regard her garden as theirs and are quite hostile, until Mary makes friends with them. There’s a blind veteran, Paul Randall, with his discontent, grumbly wife. There’s the vicar with his anxious, easily frightened sister. And a dear older, feeble couple with a wayward son.

Part of Mary’s reasons for coming to the quiet of the country is to process her feelings for her aunt and her fiance, who had been killed at war a week before the wedding. She felt like perhaps she hadn’t really loved him as she should have since she didn’t grieve as deeply as she had seen others do. And she wanted to get to know her mysterious Aunt Mary, whom she had only seen that one time as a child. Fortunately, she finds Aunt Mary’s diary.

“The scent of water” is mentioned many times through the book as different characters experience renewal and new life in various ways.

Some of the quotes that stood out to me:

I had not known before that love is obedience. You want to love, and you can’t, and you hate yourself because you can’t, and all the time love is not some marvelous thing that you feel but some hard thing that you do. And this in a way is easier because with God’s help you can command your will when you can’t command your feelings. With us, feelings seem to be important, but He doesn’t appear to agree with us.

Suffering had had an effect with which she was familiar. The refusal of self-pity and despair had turned it from lead to fire, burning up the subterfuges and dishonesties below the surface of the inherited veneer of manners and thought that most men and women think are their true selves, and the veneer with them.

Mary sat up late that night with the diary. She had been reading it slowly and steadily, passing with Cousin Mary through the first few years at Appleshaw, years of alternate illness and respite, so much at one with her cousin that she seemed to be learning with her how to accept the first with hope and the second with wonder and gratitude. Cousin Mary hoped her journey through periods of dark and light was like that of a Swiss train toiling up the mountainside, in and out of tunnels but always a little farther up the hill at each emergence. But she could only hope that this was so. She did not feel it.

No desert is so dusty as not to have an oasis here and there.

I liked this quote about a writer who gave Mary some of his work to critique.

He had found in her what he had never had, a sympathetic but intelligent critic. She could wield the pruning knife mercilessly yet at the same time she watered the roots.

I think most writers would appreciate that kind of feedback.

However, there were a couple of things that puzzled me. One was that Mary finds herself falling for a married man. She never acts on her feelings or lets anyone know. He’s a writer and finds in her a meeting of the minds unlike what he has with anyone else. But that being understood and appreciated seems to make him more determined to make his relationship with his discontent wife right.

Another was this exchange with a child who had taken a couple of the “little things” from Mary’s house:

“Then you don’t think I’m awfully wicked?” whispered Edith. “You don’t think I’ll go to hell?”
Mary laughed. “No, I don’t. It’s like this, Edith. Why you do a thing is more important than what you do. And so stealing because you love is really better than not stealing because you don’t. Not that I am advocating stealing exactly. This question of good and evil is very complicated. Life has been very difficult for us all since Eve ate the apple.”

Mary was not a believer at this point, so she can be forgiven for not having her theology quite right. But it seemed an odd thing for the author to include.

I was surprised to see a handful of “damns” in the book.

In an earlier book I read by this author, The Dean’s Watch, it seemed to take her a long time to actually get into the story. In this book, she seemed to jump right in, so that was helpful. Still, it’s kind of a slow-moving, character-driven rather than action-packed novel. But I liked the theme of renewal and how it worked out in the lives of its characters.

Mr. Harrison’s Confessions

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Mr. Harrison's Confessions

Mr. Harrison’s Confessions is a novella by Elizabeth Gaskell which was first published as a magazine serial. Mr. Harrison is a young doctor who has just finished his studies and is invited by a friend of his father’s, Mr. Morgan (apparently doctors weren’t addressed as such yet in those days), to join his practice in the small town of Duncombe, England, in the mid-1850s.

Of course, the two doctors’ styles are very different. Morgan frequently corrects and advises Harrison on everything from his clothes to “how things are done” in Duncombe. Harrison is full of the latest medical theories and practices while Morgan is steeped in ways of an older country doctor. Morgan knows how to use the town’s gossip mill to advantage while Harrison is baffled by it.

Thanks to Morgan’s touting the new doctor’s skills, the town generally accepts him. But when differences of opinion arise, his reputation is at stake.

Maybe because of naivete or lack of experience with small town gossip, he finds himself romantically linked with three different women–none of home is Sophy, the vicar’s daughter, whom he is genuinely interested in.

This novella is sometimes referred to as a prequel to Cranford by the same author, though they are set in different towns and don’t have any characters in common. But the feel of small town village life is similar. I was unaware of this story until learning that the British TV series Cranford included this book and My Lady Ludlow in its series taken from the novel Cranford. The vicar in Mr. Harrison’s Confessions is the one in the TV series.

Gaskell was said to have drawn from the experiences of an uncle who was a doctor for her medical knowledge.

This was a nice story with both comedy and pathos.

The Dean’s Watch

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Dean's Watch

The Dean’s Watch is a novel by Elizabeth Goudge, published in 1950 but set in an English cathedral town in the 1870s. The town is unnamed but based on Ely, where Goudge lived for a time, bordering the marshy Fens region.

The story opens with watch- and clock-maker Isaac Peabody, a shy, quiet man working in his shop repairing Dean Ayscough’s watch. We’re told about his work, his shop, his lack of faith in God, and his fear of the cathedral (though we’re not told why he fears it until much later). He’s currently in one of his “good times.”

He lives with his sister, Emma, a rigid, brittle woman. Emma considers herself a gentleman’s daughter and is ashamed that her brother is a tradesman with his own shop. Her shame is deepened by the fact that Isaac visits the local pub during his “bad times.” Her mission in life is to “turn him into a sober, businesslike, gentlemanly good man,” and she knows she is failing.

Their maid, Polly, is a bright, cheerful, soul, and Isaac and Polly get along well when Emma is not around. Emma knows this and is jealous.

On Saturdays, Isaac keeps his shop closed and visits some of his customers whose clocks need winding and cleaning. One of those customers is the Dean (a head Anglican priest). Isaac times his visit for when the Dean will be out at the church. But this Saturday, the Dean is home with a cold. And, much to Isaac’s terror, the Dean wants to see him.

As it turns out, however, the Dean just wanted to thank Isaac for the paper included with his repaired watch. Isaac put little scraps of sayings or poetry with his watches, and the Dean particularly liked this one.

This led to a discussion of horology (the study of clocks and watches) as the two reserved men opened up to each other, with a promise of more visits to come.

The Dean is described as imposing, tall, and ugly, with a raspy voice. He commands authority and has fought against corruption in the city, particularly that involving children. But very few know his gruff exterior hides a tender heart.

Job Mooring is an orphan, stolen from his family as a child and then sold to various apprenticeships. He now works for a fishmonger who beats him. Way back as a young child made to climb chimneys, Job was rescued by the Dean, though he didn’t know that’s who he was. Job is secretly courting Polly.

One night when the Dean stops by Isaac’s house unexpectedly, he sets off a series of events with long-term ramifications.

In the meantime, his weekly visits with Isaac are redemptive for both men.

This book inspired yesterdays post on patience with old books. The book is not that old, but it’s written in the style of the 1800s. First we see a long description of Isaac and his shop, then the city, the fen people, several hundred years of the cathedral’s history, Emma, and the Dean. The story itself doesn’t seem to take off until about a third of the way in.

But once it did, I loved it. I loved the characters and the redemptive threads throughout. I liked the double meaning of the title: both the Dean’s physical timepiece, plus his watching over the people in the city, particularly the main characters. As he walked around the city at night, “He would stand in dark doorways and pray there for the men and women within the shuttered houses. If he lacked the common touch, if he was not the priest he had longed to be, this at least he could do.”

According to Wikipedia, though Elizabeth wrote several books, nonfiction and fiction, for both adults and children, The Dean’s Watch was one of her top three favorites.

Patience with Old Books

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Patience with old books

Modern writers are told they need to hook the reader within the first couple of pages–preferably the first few paragraphs.

Fiction writers are also instructed not to write long descriptions and backstory. Instead, they’re told to tuck necessary details in here and there.

They’re also told to “Show, don’t tell.” You don’t say, “Sue was angry,” or even worse, “Sue was very angry.” You show her actions and let the reader infer what she felt: “Sue’s face reddened as she stomped out of the room and slammed the door.”

Other widespread writing advice: Use strong verbs and nouns, fewer adjectives and adverbs. Write shorter paragraphs. Cut everything that’s not absolutely necessary.

Old books are written differently.

They might start with the character’s ancestry three generations back and give us a detailed description of himself, his job, his home, and his family before we get even a hint of what the story is about. They generally “tell” more than they “show.” Their paragraphs, and sometimes even their sentences, are long and circuitous.

It’s not that the modern style of writing is right and the old way is wrong. Some books have continued to sell well for centuries even with their wordier construction. Different styles fit different times.

Older writers might be appalled at our modern lack of patience. But we not only have shorter attention spans–we have a plethora of material to read. If something doesn’t capture our interest right away, we move on to the next option.

I wonder if people savored reading more when they had fewer choices. I think they must have looked on reading–fiction, at least–as a time to anticipate and relax.

Italo Calvino has written, “A classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say.” It still speaks to us today.

I think of it a little like traveling to a longed-for destination. Before you can get there, you have to make plans, book flights, pack, and endure the journey–all things I don’t like about travel. But most people find the destination with the effort.

It might help to ask for recommendations from a friend or Google classic books in a genre you already like. Finding out a little about the background and author aids understanding as well, but I caution you not to read the introductory material in many classics written by someone other than the author. Those seem to assume the reader is already familiar with the story and give away too much. (I’m still steamed at the writer who tossed out the ending of Anna Karenina like it was common knowledge and ruined it for me).

There are blogs and podcasts like The Literary Life Podcast which shed light on specific titles. I listened to their discussion of Dracula alongside my reading. I didn’t think I’d like the book, but I gained so much more by what I learned from their knowledge and discussion.

So I encourage you to be patient with older books and give them time. Accept that they may be more wordy and take a while to get where they’re going. But the payoff in a recognition of human character or a bit of wise insight is usually worth it.

My Lady Ludlow

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My Lady Ludlow

My Lady Ludlow by Elizabeth Gaskell is a short novel–or a long novella–about an older aristocratic woman in the changing times of the late 1700s.

Her story is told by Margaret Dawson, a distant relative, now an old woman looking back on her time with Lady Ludlow. When Margaret was a teenager, her father died, leaving her mother with nine children. To help out, Lady Ludlow offered for Margaret to come stay with her, where she “did her Christian duty” by several young “gentlewomen” who were “out of means.” So Margaret traveled several hours to Lady Ludlow’s manor.

In those days, the Lord or Lady of the manor had pretty much the authority of the whole area. Lady Ludlow had a strong sense of The Way Things Should Be, based on the way things had always been. She could seem imperious and intractable, but she had a kind and generous heart.

She had frequent arguments with the young rector as well as her own steward about educating the “lower classes.” Reverend Gray wanted to open a Sunday School and then a village school, to teach doctrine and prepare young minds for the world to come. Mr. Horner, the steward, cared more about the here and now and “wanted to make every man useful and active in this world.” He had taken it upon himself to educate a bright young boy who happened to be the son of a man known for poaching. Mr. Horner thought the boy could be saved from the kind of life he was otherwise sure to grow into and possibly even come to work for the estate.

“My lady would hear of neither one or the other.” She thought the teaching of doctrine was best done by the family and church. She called reading and writing “edge-tools,” saying, “If our lower orders have these edge-tools given to them, we shall have the terrible scenes of the French Revolution acted over again in England. When I was a girl, one never heard of the rights of men, one only heard of the duties.” She thought that if the boy Mr. Horner was teaching, and others like him, learned to read and write, “his duties become complicated, and his temptations much greater, while, at the same time, he has no hereditary principles and honourable training to serve as safeguards.”

She then related a long story about friends in France who were killed during the Revolution, part of their fate hinging on a boy reading and sharing a message he should not have.

At first I wondered why Mrs. Gaskell created such a character. From what I’ve read about the author, Lady Ludlow’s views were not her views.

But, without spoiling the plot too much, Lady Ludlow gradually changes her thinking on many things. Then I realized the author was appealing to those who held the same views as Lady Ludlow, gently trying to open their eyes to other, better views.

My Lady Ludlow is one of the stories incorporated in the Cranford BBC TV series, along with the novel Cranford and another novella, Mr. Harrison’s Confessions, even though these stories don’t originally occur in the same place. The rector in the TV series is from one of the other books, so it’s sad that Rev. Gray wasn’t in the series. Mr. Horner, for some reason, is renamed Mr. Carter there. In the book, Lady Ludlow has one son remaining from her original nine, but he never appears at the manor. The TV series has him coming back as a ne’er-do-well, only interested in money, wanting to sell the estate to the railroad company. I know films can’t portray the books exactly, but when they add in their own plots, I want to say, “Go write your own books with your own characters, and don’t subvert those of others.”

Though Lady Ludlow is not as easy to like as Matty Jenkyns in Cranford, I did like the way she changed through the story.

Cranford

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Cranford

Cranford was originally written as a series of vignettes by Elizabeth Gaskell in Charles Dickens’ magazine, Household Words. She started out with just two, but he encouraged her to write more. Afterward, with a little alteration, the pieces were formed into a book.

As such, there’s not an overarching plot through the book. The stories take place in a fictional small town whose residents are mostly older single women living in genteel poverty. They live by a strict code–“calling” is only for three hours a day and only for fifteen minutes. They are constantly evaluating situations by class–how to dress for this person’s get-together, whether it was right for that person to marry this one, and so forth.

The two main characters are sisters, Deborah and Matty Jenkyns, daughters of the former rector. Deborah is older and very strict in her views of what is acceptable and what is not. Yet she surprises others by breaking protocol sometimes in her compassion for others. She leads the way in new thinking that class is not always the basis for one’s actions.

When she passes away early on in the book, the more timid Matty has to come into her own.

The stories are told through a Miss Smith, who comes to visit often. This is what I would call a quiet book. The characters experience ups and downs, joys and sorrows. Gentle humor is sprinkled throughout.

When a man with two daughters moves into the neighborhood, the dynamics of society are shaken up a bit, especially as he doesn’t know that things like one’s financial situation are not discussed in public. A series of robberies take place just as a magician comes to town, making him a suspect. Matty comes across a former suitor she’d had to turn down decades ago.

This Kindle version of the book has a couple of interesting appendices, one on the historical context of the book, and one on Gaskell’s life. Many of the stories are based on Gaskell’s memories of living in Knutsford (including one tale of a cow dressed in flannel. She told someone she scaled down some descriptions a bit, thinking no one would believe the full version). The former article says, “The tale of Cranford, then, is the tale of England in miniature: a society caught in a moment of profound transition, learning to reconcile its cherished traditions with the irresistible tide of a new and unfamiliar age.” It also says Gaskell captured the “quiet comedies and secret sorrows of her characters.”

Gaskell’s family were Unitarians, and she married a Unitarian minister. The article describes them as “Dissenters,” though I had not associated that word with Unitarianism. The article says, “This progressive faith emphasized reason, social responsibility, and individual conscience over rigid doctrine” and “shaped her entire worldview. It instilled in her a powerful sense of moral duty and a deep-seated empathy for those on the margins of society.” I would not agree with many religious aspects of Unitarianism (they deny the doctrine of the Trinity, for one thing), but that does not come up much in the book. The emphasis here is more on “social responsibility.”

I first read Cranford about fifteen years ago, and thought it merely “pleasant.” But then I started watching the BBC series, which combines stories from this book as well as My Lady Ludlow and Mr. Harrison’s Confessions. That renewed my interest in the characters, so I went through the book again, this time via audiobook superbly read by Prunella Scales.

Though I like others of Gaskell’s books better, I liked this one much more than I did on my first reading.

Review: David Copperfield

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David Copperfield

Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield is a comfort read for me. I’ve read it at least twice, if not more. I’ve had a hankering to listen to the audiobook, but I waited to finish my project of reading the other Dickens’ novels that I had not yet encountered.

David Copperfield is a coming-of-age novel, based in part on Dickens’ life. The novel begins with his birth to a young widowed mother. She and Pegotty, who acts as maid and companion to David’s mother and nurse to David, bring him up in a loving home.

When David is seven, his mother marries the stern Mr. Murdstone, whose sister, Jane, also comes to live with them. The Murdstones tyrannize the household. When he tries to whip David for failing in his lessons (because David is so intimated he can’t think straight), David bites him. Murdstone sends him away to a harsh schoolmaster, where he is picked on by the boys until their leader, James Steerforth, stands up for him.

When David’s mother and baby brother die, Murdstone pulls David out of school and sends him to work at a wine factory.. In that day, such labor was considered lower class. David lamented not being able to continue in school. But his landlord, Mr. Micawber, is kind, if loquacious and constantly in financial difficulties.

David eventually runs away to find his only known living relative, Miss Betsey Trotwood. Though she comes across as formidable at first, she has a sensible and kind heart.

She finds David a better school, and he boards with her financial adviser, Mr. Wickfield and his daughter, Agnes. Wickfield has a clerk, Uriah Heep, who constantly proclaims his “humbleness,” yet hides an avaricious heart.

Through the rest of the novel, these lives and others intersect back and forth, some with grace and some tragically.

I mentioned in my Bookish Questions post that Mr. Peggoty, brother to David’s nurse, is one of my favorite secondary characters. An old sea captain, he has no family of his own, but took in a niece, nephew, and the widow of his business partner. When one of them gets into trouble and runs away, he spends years looking for her. I mentioned this inexpensive print I got years ago reminded me of him

Mr. Pegotty

Another is Tommy Traddles, one of David’s schoolmates, who is in love with “the dearest girl in the world,” as he often says. Dickens always has a couple or more characters like this, good, salt-of-the-earth people.

The book ends, not with David becoming an adult, but with his coming to maturity and a settled life.

I wondered if I might be a little bored with the story, since I knew the basic plot. But there were scenes and characters I had forgotten. And I looked forward to the parts I did remember.

I also caught a lot of foreshadowing that I may have missed in earlier readings.

One thing that stood out to me in this reading was David marriage to Dora Spenlow, his boss’s daughter, who is pretty and sweet, but not much else. When David tries to help her learn to keep accounts or cook, she gets upset and David gets frustrated. David wites,

I did feel, sometimes, for a little while, that I could have wished my wife had been my counsellor; had had more character and purpose, to sustain me and improve me by; had been endowed with power to fill up the void which somewhere seemed to be about me; but I felt as if this were an unearthly consummation of my happiness, that never had been meant to be, and never could have been.

And later,

‘There can be no disparity in marriage like unsuitability of mind and purpose.’ Those words I remembered too. I had endeavoured to adapt Dora to myself, and found it impracticable. It remained for me to adapt myself to Dora; to share with her what I could, and be happy; to bear on my own shoulders what I must, and be happy still. This was the discipline to which I tried to bring my heart, when I began to think. It made my second year much happier than my first; and, what was better still, made Dora’s life all sunshine.

A couple of favorite quotes:

The days sported by us, as if Time had not grown up himself yet, but were a child too, and always at play.

“I never thought, when I used to read books, what work it was to write them.” “It’s work enough to read them, sometimes,” I returned.

This audiobook was narrated by Richard Armitage, who played John Thornton in North and South and Thorin Oakenshield in The Hobbit trilogy a few years ago. He did a superb job. Dickens always has a lot of characters, and I can’t imagine a narrator trying to keep all the voices different. But Armitage did them well.

I thoroughly enjoyed visiting with David Copperfield again.

Review: The Mystery of Edwin Drood

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The Mystery of Edwin Drood was the last of Charles Dickens’ novels and only about half-finished when he died.

The story opens in an opium den as a man awakens from his drug-induced stupor, then goes to the cathedral, where he is the choirmaster.

A little later, this man, John Jasper, tells his nephew, Edwin Drood, that he takes opium for a physical condition. The reader is left unsure for a while whether Jasper is telling the truth or leading a double life.

Edwin is a young man engaged to Rosa Bud. They are both orphans, but their fathers were good friends and arranged their marriage. Edwin comments that the prearrangement “flattens” the excitement of their courtship. But he’s willing to go along with the plan. He and Rosa often end up arguing.

Twin siblings, Neville and Helena Landless, also newly orphaned, arrive from Ceylon with their guardian. Neville is to study with the minor canon, Rev. Crisparkle, while Helena will attends the nuns’ boarding school. She and Rosa, also a student there, become good friends.

Nevile has been mistreated by his stepfather and has a quick temper. He is secretly attracted to Rosa and can’t stand the way Edwin treats her. The two young men argue, goaded on by Jasper.

Crisparkle urges the two to settle their differences. The day after they do, Edwin disappears. Neville is immediately suspect, but there’s no proof of his guilt.

Dickens always has multiple threads and quirky characters woven into his plots. Mr. Durdles is a stonemason and undertaker. Jasper asks Durdles to take him on a nighttime tour of the crypts. “Deputy” is the nickname of a street child who throws rocks at people out at night but who also sees and hears much that goes on. Mr. Sapsea is a somewhat self-important auctioneer who later becomes the mayor. Dick Datchery comes into the story later, a man of independent means supposedly looking for a pleasant place to stay. A former sea captain, Mr. Tartar, arrives later, too, and ends up living next to where Neville is hiding out. At first I thought Tartar was spying on Neville for Jasper, but later I didn’t think so.

One of the most touching moments for me involved Mr. Grewgious, Rosa’s guardian. At first he comes across as a little silly and fussy. But later, as he remembers the women he silently loved, who died long ago, he wonders whether the man she married ever suspected him of having feelings for her. As he catches sight of himself in the mirror, he says “A likely someone, you, to come into anybody’s thoughts in such an aspect! There! There! There! Get to bed, poor man, and cease to jabber!” The narrator notes, “There are such unexplored romantic nooks in the unlikeliest men.”

Another favorite quote, said of Rev. Crisparkle: “He was simply and staunchly true to his duty alike in the large case and in the small. So all true souls ever are. So every true soul ever was, ever is, and ever will be. There is nothing little to the really great in spirit.”

I liked the turn of phrase that a bombastic man targeted another as “kind of human peg to hang his oratorical hat on.” Then, “the remainder of the party lapsed into a sort of gelatinous state, in which there was no flavour or solidity, and very little resistance.”

And this brought a smile: “The two shook hands with the greatest heartiness, and then went the wonderful length—for Englishmen—of laying their hands each on the other’s shoulders, and looking joyfully each into the other’s face.”

Wikipedia lists some of the theories about how Dickens intended to finish the novel. I feel pretty sure I know what happened to Edwin and why and by whom–the clues seem to point one direction. But it would have been fun to learn whether I was right and to see the plot unravel and the bad guy get his comeuppance.

I listened to the audiobook, narrated by David Thorn. He did a great job, except I had a little trouble understanding a few of the characters. I also got the Kindle version, which was free at the time, to go over the passages which weren’t clear to me.

Some years ago I set myself a mission to read all the Dickens novels I hadn’t read yet. Now I have read all of them except Barnaby Rudge, which, honestly, doesn’t sound very exciting. But I will still read it some day.

While Edwin Drood isn’t my favorite of Dickens’ novels–those would be A Tale of Two Cities and David Copperfield--I did enjoy it and got caught up in the mystery.

Review: Little Lord Fauntleroy

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Little Lord Fauntleroy has never been on my to-read lists. But I was looking through Audible‘s Plus Catalog of free books they rotate in and out, and this title caught my eye. I saw that the novel was written by Frances Hodgson Burnett, who also wrote The Little Princess, which I loved, and The Secret Garden, which I had mixed emotions about. I decided to give it a try.

Cedric Errol is a little boy living with his mother in “genteel poverty.” His father had been the third son of an earl in England. When he came to America, he fell in love and married. His father hated Americans and felt this one was just after his son’s money. So he cut his son off from his inheritance and position.

Cedric’s parents lived happily together for several years until his father became sick and died. Cedric calls his mother “Dearest” because that’s what his father had always called her, and it seems to make her happy.

Cedric is seven years old at the story’s beginning. “He had never heard an unkind or uncourteous word spoken at home; he had always been loved and caressed and treated tenderly, and so his childish soul was full of kindness and innocent warm feeling.” He’s special friends with the grocer, Mr. Hobbs, a young bootblack named Dick, and the “apple woman.” Even when winning a race with another boy, he encourages him by saying he only won because he’s three days older and his legs are a little longer.

Then one day a stranger from England, a lawyer named Mr. Havisham, arrives at Cedric’s home. Cedric’s father’s brothers have all died, and Cedric is the heir to his grandfather’s estate. His grandfather wants Cedric to come to England, live with him, and learn how to become an earl. He would become Lord Fauntleroy. His mother is invited, too, but the earl doesn’t want to see her. She’s be provided another home nearby so she and Cedric can visit every day.

Cedric’s mother believes his father, who loved his home in England, would have wanted Cedric to accept this invitation. She doesn’t want Cedric to start out with bad feelings against his grandfather, so she doesn’t tell him why his grandfather won’t see her.

The earl is described as “sitting in his great, splendid, gloomy library at the castle, gouty and lonely, surrounded by grandeur and luxury, but not really loved by any one, because in all his long life he had never really loved any one but himself; he had been selfish and self-indulgent and arrogant and passionate.” Everyone is intimidated by him. But Cedric’s mother said he was kind and generous. So Cedric approaches him without fear, which impresses the earl.

He wants Cedric to realize the riches at his disposal, so he gives instructions that Cedric can have anything he likes (perhaps not realizing that this was what ruined his two older sons). Instead of indulging himself, Cedric wants to use the money to help others.

Just when I thought the book was going to be fairly predictable, an unforeseen crisis arises.

Cedric is almost too good to be true. I haven’t found anything to explain why Burnett wrote the book: this was her first children’s book, though she had written for adults before. Perhaps she wanted to give children an example to follow. It’s interesting to trace the development of characters in her children’s books (at least the three I have read). Sarah in A The Little Princess is ideal as well, but not so perfect. Mary in The Secret Garden is spoiled and nasty.

Wikipedia says this book was as popular as Harry Potter in its day, and it started a fad of boys wearing the long curls and white frilly shirt that Cedric was known for.

Virginia Leishman did a nice job narrating the audiobook. It’s free through September to Audible subscribers, and only about six and a half hours long. I also got the Kindle version for 99 cents, which includes some of the original illustrations, which were fun to see. I don’t know why the newer cover shows Cedric with dark hair when the book repeatedly mentions his golden curls.

Even though Cedric and his mother are somewhat idealized, this was a sweet story that I enjoyed very much.