Well, the first thing to say is that although the novel begins with a couple of deaths off page as it were which could have meant it was going to be another of the direly morose books my Poole bookclub appears to choose, this one managed to veer away from blood, gore, horror, despair and suicide ...
I will always love this book. Partly because it reminds me of my mother. Partly because it reminds me of being a teenager (I think I was that young when I first read it? not far off anyway. But mostly because I love Mary Wesley's writing. Her characters are fascinating (if not always likeable) an...
For some time now I do carework for the elderly in the UK. People in their late 80's or even 90's, whose young years play out on the pages of this book. Often they relate to me their war-time experiences, in fact it seems, that - very understandibly - those years left the deepest marks on their l...
A cross between Anita Brookner and Ivy Compton-Burnett, I think. I’ve heard Barbara Pym thrown around as well but I didn’t quite see it; Wesley isn't as cozy and smooth. Also Jane Austen, but nah. People have said Anita Brookner's like Jane Austen too but no. Just because you're a lady writing ab...
For those of you who are not familiar with Mary Wesley, here's a brief introduction; She was kick-ass with a capital K. Need more info? Fair enough. Born in 1912 she lived till the fairly grand age of 90 and racked up ten novels and a CBE all of which was achieved after her 70th birthday. When no...
to be honest i did not really know what to make of this book. guess i could not really see the point of it henry brings his new bride to cotteshaw in 1944 and she immediately retired to her bed and stayed there 2 young couples encounter her 10 years later and become regular but uneasy house guest...
She got out of bed, felt her way to the window, drew back the curtains and unlatched a shutter. In later years it might occur to her that, seeing that view for the first time, she saw it without thought of Jonty or Francis and was entranced. What she saw was a stretch of moor etched starkly by th...
‘She gives me the creeps,’ she would say to Barbara, ‘but I quite enjoy it if you are with me.’ Since their marriage Matthew left social duties he wished to avoid to his wife. ‘Antonia does these things so well,’ he would mutter, edging away from embarrassment or boredom. ‘Women are naturally goo...
The little ones, charming and tractable earlier in the day, were fretful; parents were glad to collect picnic baskets, bathing dresses, towels, buckets, spades and passionately collected seaweed and shells, and head for the charabanc. They looked forward to the relief of their children in bed, a ...
She walked stiffly, holding her head high, her shoulders unnaturally straight. He stood aside to let her climb on to the bus, blocking the way to the other passengers so that she need not hurry, then he followed her to where she settled in a seat next to the window, stood between her and their fe...
News of the dog, the cow, the hens was far more important than history or mathematics. Every Monday Richard’s plump white envelope brought the news which would enable her to survive the week. He wrote about the Home Guard and what the village thought of it, he wrote that the General was bossy. He...