Harriet Devine's Blog

Girl Reading (with dog)

When I spot likely pictures online I try to do a little research which mostly consists of dragging them into Google images and having a quick dash at wikipedia. I had a bit of trouble tracking this one down but I believe it to be called 'Gift' by Marguerite Gérard (1761-1837). The page I found it on dated it to 1788 which surprised me a bit as  these high-waisted dresses didn't come in till the late 1790s. I assume the gift is the dog, sent with a letter from an admirer. 

I'd never heard of Gérard before but apparently she was much admired in her day and was the sister in law of the celebrated artist Fragonard, whose house she lived in from the age of 8.

If you're interested in the history of women's fashions, here's a fascinating website which shows them year by year from 1784, illustrations taken from fashion plates of each year.

Eva Luna by Isabel Allende

I've spent decades looking forward to reading Isabel Allende and somehow never getting around to it, so I was really pleased when this one was chosen for my relatively new but highly enjoyable book group. Almost everybody loved it, which was good, and we had an interesting discussion.

Set in an un-named South American country - one reader was annoyed that it wasn't specified but the rest of us thought that worked well - this is a classic example of a bildungsroman, as the story begins with Eva's conception and takes us through her extremely varied life up to her coming of age as a mature woman. 

The illegitimate daughter of a maid, Eva lives a wild, free existence until, when she is six, her mother dies. She's taken into a convent to be brought up with other orphans until she's old enough to go into domestic service. Her life is hard, but she eases the dissatisfaction by making use of a gift she finds she has been blessed with - the ability to tell stories. This sees her though many vicissitudes including a period living in a brothel, being fostered by a kind-hearted Turkish shopkeeper and his terminally depressed wife, living rough on the city streets and being befriended by an older street urchin, Huberto Naranjo, who later becomes a shady businessman and then a guerrilla fighter. She makes friends with a beautiful transexual who takes her in and helps her become a professional writer, and she plays a part in the revolution which will overturn the country's oppressive dictator.

Eva Luna is a wonderfully full, rich novel. I loved its amazingly evocative depictions of the varied South American world, from jungle to small town to city - it's a place I've always longed to visit but have always thought it would be rather overwhelming. The secondary characters are wonderfully vivid, and include Rolf Carle, an Austrian boy who ends up in South America, living with relatives - he eventually becomes a successful film maker and will play an important part in Eva's later life, having emerged from a hilariously erotic menage a trois with his two cousins. There's plenty of gritty reality here, but Allende is celebrated partly for her use of magic realism, and there are some moments of magic here too. 

One of our group (male) characterised it as a feminist novel, which, though I dislike labels, I suppose it is. Certainly it's about a woman who starts life about as powerless as it's possible to be and ends up happy and successful after a lot of very challenging ups and downs. But to put it in a box is to minimise Allende's achievement, which is to tell the story of a small life in a brilliantly grand and impressive way - there's wit, excitement, intelligence, magic - what more could you want. 

Any recommendations for my next Allende novel?

Girl Reading

Actually 'Blue Girl Reading' by the German Expressionist artist August Macke (1887-1914), who I'd never heard of till this lovely painting appeared on one of my birthday cards this week. His dates give a clue to his sadly short life - he was killed in WW1 aged only 27.

Maigret Sets a Trap by Simenon

This picture shows the recent Penguin edition of this 1955 novel, but in fact I read it in a very battered French paperback found in an attic sale. I've since discovered that it has been made into a TV adaptation with Rowan Atkinson, but I was so disappointed with his first outing as Maigret that I've avoided any future ones. I now rather wish I had seen it, though I can't imagine it did justice to what is a fascinating novel.

Maigret is caught up in what is one of the most challenging cases of his career - a series of five violent murders, all taking place in the same small area of Montmartre. Women are the victims, and seem to have nothing in common apart from all being slightly plump. They have been viciously stabbed, their clothes shredded by the same knife. Maigret is at his wits end. 

He and Mme Maigret go to a dinner party with their old friends and neighbours M. and Mme Pardon. Another guest is a psychiatrist, M. Tissot. After dinner, Maigret gets into a long discussion with him regarding the probable psychology of the murderer - Maigret is sure that if he understood the man's motivation he would be able to track him down. The conversation leaves him with much to think about, and next day he makes a decision - he will let it be known to the press that he has caught the killer. His hope is that the real culprit will be immediately impelled to start again, to prove he is still on the loose. The entire Paris police force is sent to Montmartre the evening after the press announcement - all dotted around in disguise in various likely locations in order, hopefully, to catch the man before he commits another crime. In fact an attempt is made, but the murderer is disturbed before he is able to kill, and he escapes without being caught. However, the intended victim, a young policewoman in plain clothes, thinks she may be able to identify him, and has managed to pull a button off his suit jacket. It is this button which, having been taken round the various button wholesalers, leads to the identification of a man who is almost certainly responsible. The man is taken in for questioning, and Maigret is convinced he has found the culprit, but then another identical murder takes place. Was Maigret mistaken?

It's hard to convey what is so gripping about this story without giving too much away. The character of the killer and those of his family members are wonderfully well observed and wholly convincing. One of the high points of the novel is a long passage near the end which consists of a long monologue addressed by Maigret to the obstinately silent suspect, in which he lays out all the details of his past life and describes with great accuracy the feelings and events which led him to commit these terrible crimes.

I've read a few Maigret novels in the past few months, and others in the past too. I've enjoyed them all but this one seemed to me peculiarly interesting - though maybe I say that every time. Definitely recommended.

 

Woman Reading to Another Woman

Henri Fantin-Latour (1836-1904) is probably best known for his paintings of flowers - he even had a rose named after him and very beautiful it is too. But he also had quite a line in women reading - often to another woman - it's 'a theme the artist particularly liked' according the the Musee d"Orsay website. I've shown a couple of these in the past but hopefully not this one. Not that it matters as it's lovely anyway. Is the listener really listening? Or just gazing at the artist? Hopefully she's really absorbed in the story.

Gallows Court by Martin Edwards

I don't suppose there will be many people reading this who haven't heard of Martin Edwards, author of numerous crime novels including the seven volumes in the attractive Lake District series, editor of the British Library Crime Classics and writer of the hugely successful non-fiction Golden Age of Murder and other celebrated non-fiction books. Up to now his fiction has been firmly rooted in the present day, but in this new book he is breaking the mould - Gallows Court takes place in 1930s London. When I heard this, I imagined a sort of pastiche of a golden age novel, but that's not at all what the book is. Certainly he's done his research and the period detail is immaculately created, but never in my rather extensive reading of novels written during the period have I encountered such a fast-paced and violent plot as Edwards has created for Gallows Court. Maybe I just haven't read enough of them?

Young Jacob Flint is a junior crime reporter on a London newspaper, the Clarion. When his boss Tom Betts has a serious accident, he's given the job of taking over the crime desk. He's after a scoop, and hopes he has found it in the person of a mysterious, beautiful young woman named Rachel Savernake, who seems to be in some way linked with a series of bizarre and violent deaths which have terrified the city. 

Rachel is the only daughter of the famously vicious and eccentric Judge Savernake. When she was a young child,  her father attempted suicide in court.  He was forced to retire and took his small daughter to live on remote Gaunt Island in the North Sea. After the Judge's death, Rachel remained on the island with just a handful of loyal servants, until she reached the age of 25 and inherited the Judge's substantial property and fortune. She now lives in solitary splendour in London, still taken care of by the loyal Mr and Mrs Trueman, and seems to have set herself up as a private detective. Jacob, however, wonders if her connection with the murders is a bit closer than simply investigation. What he suspects, and finally uncovers, is a web of the most shockingly corrupt practices, involving many pillars of the community. In the course of all this, he runs into danger several times, and discovers that several people he likes and trusts are not at all what they have seemed. Indeed, false identity plays a large part in the novel and there are several surprising twists along the way. As for Rachel, her role in it all remains a mystery until almost the end of the story.

 So - don't expect a cosy mystery along the lines of Christie or Sayers. This is a thoroughly modern take on the 1930s and none the worse for that. The amount of violence and general unpleasantness may not suit the faint-hearted, but for those of a sturdier disposition it will be a real page-turner.

 

Woman Reading

This attractive painting is by the Sicilian artist Francesco Netti (1832-1894). He seems to have been quite celebrated in his day, though I'd never heard of him before I tracked him down on Google images. I love the informal domesticity of this scene.

Shiny Review: The Town by Shaun Prescott

Here's my latest review on Shiny, of a novel which arrived totally unexpectedly in my mailbox, for which I am deeply grateful. Shaun Prescott is a young Australian author. This is his debut novel and a truly excellent one it is. Briefly, the narrator (never named) has taken up residence in a small town in Western Australia. It's his intention to write a book about the vanishing towns in the area. He has high hopes of finding congenial people and interesting things to do but soon discovers that his own newly adopted town is rapidly dying - indeed pretty much dead already. There's a bus with no passengers, a pub with no customers, a radio station with no listeners. And then mysterious holes start to appear in the very fabric of the town, and people and buildings disappear into them...

I called this book strange and bewitching and that's exactly what it is. Here's what I said at the end:

It’s hard to convey how fascinating and readable a book can be when it deals almost entirely with disappointment, boredom and emptiness. But there is quiet wit and charm here even as the novel conveys the opposite, and it’s certainly far from boring. It’s an extremely thought-provoking novel, and an impressive achievement for Shaun Prescott, whose debut it is.

Highly recommended. Here's the link to the full review.