The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann (translated by John E Woods)

I was encouraged to finally read this great big German classic after stopping in Davos during a holiday. We tried to visit the hotel and former sanatorium which apparently inspired Mann's novel. However, we nearly died as Google maps mistakenly directed us to drive on what turned to be a mountain footpath which became increasingly narrow as it perilously curved around the cliffside and over a fragile wooden bridge. Since we barely survived and never made it to the location of the Waldsanatorium where Mann's wife once stayed while recovering from a respiratory disease, I've decided it's best to only fictionally visit this location through Mann's sprawling tale. The story centres around Hans Castorp a young man who is about to embark on an engineering career. However, he first visits his cousin Joachim who is attempting to cure his tuberculosis by staying at this sanatorium high up in the Swiss Alps. Hans only plans to stay there a few short weeks but his stay is continuously extended and lasts for several years. During this time he becomes entrenched in the routines and insular nature of this specialised hospital while engaging in many discussions with its European residents. This all takes place in the decade leading up to WWI and the looming spectre of this upcoming conflict casts a shadow over the entire narrative.

I found this novel both challenging and fascinating as it includes humorous encounters, beautiful descriptions, an artful structure and deep philosophical diatribes about life, illness, sexuality, society, time and war. It's a kind of stalled coming of age tale as Hans Castorp is about to launch into his adulthood when he's diverted to this location. He does grow as he falls in love with the elusive Madame Chauchat, learns about a range of subjects such as science and music and considers intellectual ideas from men who seek to mentor him. However, after consulting the sanatorium's doctors he also becomes overly preoccupied with his health, obsessively takes his temperature and becomes ensconced in the sedentary life in this place far removed from everyday reality. Though he has a somewhat priggish and conservative nature, I felt endeared and protective of Hans as he was orphaned during his adolescence and he's an impressionable youth who falls under the sway of this persuasive society in miniature. Yet there's something ominous about its lure where the theoretical is valued over the practical and all tangible progress is halted. Patients who die are furtively taken away while the remaining residents engage in a ceaseless cycle of rest cures and lavish meals. Only occasionally does an objective point of view outside the sanatorium's boundaries shine through. One example is when Hans' uncle visits to enquire when Hans will complete what he perceives to be a holiday in this place and the uncle nearly gets sucked into the same extended stay which Hans is trapped within.

Amongst the sanatorium's residents, Hans primarily falls under the tutelage of the humanist Lodovico Settembrini and the Jewish Jesuit Leo Naphta. The narrative relates their extended speeches about a wide range of subjects including social ideals, totalitarianism, the nature of war, morality, romance/sexuality and the triumph of mind/reason over the body. These essayistic passages certainly tried my patience as they often felt removed from the flow of the story. They also often represent outmoded concepts which can be easily dismissed such as attitudes towards women. At one point it's questioned why women would present themselves in a desirable way when they can no longer bear children and in another section it's stated “A woman primarily regards herself as an object.” There's little about these sections which feels edifying, but instead they give an insight into prevailing European attitudes of the time. Seeing these theories being bandied about gives insight into the many pressures which led up to the widespread conflict of WWI. Within the story it also leads to a shocking physical altercation between Settembrini and Naphta. Though Hans tries to reason that the gentlemen's disagreement is merely intellectual abstraction rather than a personal attack, the older men resort to their base natures where points of contention can only be settled through violence. I think that's what gives the inclusion of these speeches a continuing relevance as they represent how spirited conceptual positions can bleed into reality and lead to civilisation's conflagration rather than its advancement.

Outside of these lengthy speeches I enjoyed many scenes and characters such as Hans' first x-ray by the doctors where an examination of the inner workings of the body raises questions about the relationship between emotions and the physical being. Hans also carries with him an x-ray of Madame Chauchat's chest in a way which he intends to be romantic but it's actually creepy. At one point Chauchat leaves the sanatorium for a time but returns with Mynheer Peeperkorn, a new lover who is one of the novel's most lively and entertaining characters. Peeperkorn entices many of the residents to engage in extended bouts of drinking and gambling. His presence also creates a curious love triangle with Hans and Chauchat. I also heartily enjoyed the imposing character of a nurse who sells Hans a thermometer and dismisses any pursuits outside the realm of convalesce as mere twiddle twaddle. A mysterious Danish teenager named Elly Brand is introduced late in the novel who possesses mystical abilities and conducts a number of seances with the residents. This leads to a curious supernatural interlude during which someone who has died reappears and foreshadows the death of soldiers in the upcoming war. It's an eerie and utterly compelling chapter.

My favourite section of the book is merely titled 'Snow'. Here Hans goes skiing by himself in what turns out to be a disorientating snow storm. It's contemplative and sublimely beautiful how the author describes Hans' solitary journey. He adopts a position of individual defiance amidst the elements of nature and the social trappings of the sanatorium. On the snowy mountainside he experiences “one solitude opening onto the next” but also becomes completely lost and lapses into an unconscious state filled with terrifying nightmares. It shows how Hans experiences a respite out of space and time lost in the flurry of a blank canvas, but the course of humanity and inevitable progression towards death still resides within him. This is a portion of the novel I know I'll want to return to and re-read on its own because its so exquisite, thoughtful and hypnotically surreal.

I was thoroughly engaged by the way Mann considers the nature of time within passages of dialogue and in the book's very structure. Since the sanatorium is physically removed from larger civilisation time seems to function in a different way here. Its high elevation also means that the seasons of the year aren't experienced in a typical way as the weather changes rapidly and doesn't adhere to the temperatures of Winter or Summer. Months and years can pass by in what feels like a relatively short amount of time. The narrative considers the way in which time is subjective in this way because routines make it pass quickly. It's clever how the first year of Hans' stay is described in lengthy detail because this simulates how his new experiences in this place makes time initially pass more slowly for him. However, as he becomes caught up in the habits of daily life years skip by at a more rapid pace. An authorial voice occasionally interjects as well so one section presents a fascinating consideration of the representation of time in novels.

The ending of the novel is extremely poignant. Though Hans naturally comes to feel abstracted from larger society and the progression of time, he is still trapped within it as the reality of war imposes itself throughout Europe. I finished the book feeling melancholy about leaving this boy who didn't get to live life to its fullest even though he got to enjoy a rarified existence outside of the normal obligations of work and integrating into larger society. It left me wondering about what equates to a fulfilling life: one which is spent in contemplative abstraction amidst monotonous stability or one which is experienced through the challenges of a constantly shifting social landscape. Though this book utilizes the formalistic elements of realism, I was delightfully surprised at how strangely surreal and fantastical it becomes in certain sections. It's one I'll continue to contemplate and feels like a literary hurdle that I'm glad to have experienced.

A Passage to India by E.M. Forster

E.M. Forster's “A Passage to India” was first published a century ago so it seemed like a good time to revisit this book which is consistently cited as one of the greatest novels of all time. I first read it at university but I remembered little about it. So it's been worthwhile rereading this as an adult to refresh my memory about its story and it was the February choice for my online bookclub. Naturally reading it now that I'm older I'm able to appreciate more about its ideas and themes. It was the final novel by Forster to be published in his lifetime despite the author living for almost fifty more years after its publication. His novel “Maurice” was published posthumously and he also left an incomplete novel titled “Arctic Summer”. The subject of “A Passage to India” concerns tensions between East and West in the later days of Britain's colonial rule over the Indian subcontinent. The central question of the story is whether friendship is truly possible between Indians and the English in this context. This plays out through the drama between an Indian man named Dr Aziz who meets an English woman named Adela Quested who recently arrived in India. There's a mystery or non-mystery about what happens between them on an excursion out to the fictional location of the Marabar Caves. I'll discuss more spoilers than I usually do in this post since this is an older well known book.

I found it a bit challenging to get into the book at first since it launches right into a dialogue where it's not always obvious who is speaking and it presents a wide range of people. However, I quickly became fascinated (and repelled) by so much of the talk between these characters – many of which are frank in their racial and religious prejudice. Forster completely immerses the reader in this oppressive colonial environment where interactions are regulated along strict lines. There's also a lot of humour which comes through in Dr Aziz's personality and the strategic ways he tries to navigate this society. There's also a tragic/comic absurdity to many of the outrageous statements certain characters make as well as the cross-cultural misunderstandings which arise. Since this novel is partly based on Forster's time living in India I'm sure he heard many real people making similar pronouncements.

The narrative switches between a wider discussion of India as a land, culture and nation and scenes between the story's characters. I felt like occasional generalisations and troubling comparisons felt more questionable when they were situated in sections from the authorial perspective. Forster was clearly deeply sympathetic with the struggles in Indian society but describing the country in such broad terms also feels simplistic – especially when the characterisation and drama of the story is so nuanced. One of my favourite moments in the novel is when the exhausted Dr Aziz enters a mosque and initially believes a sweet old English woman named Mrs Moore hasn't taken off her shoes. This misunderstanding could have easily erupted into a bigger fight. If the overly racist characters of Mr or Mrs Turton had this encounter I'm sure they'd have taken great offense and attacked Dr Aziz. But magnanimous and kind-hearted Mrs Moore is more eager to foster a connection than try to assert her dominance in the situation. Equally, Dr Aziz immediately overcomes his frustration and sees the potential for a possible friendship. The way in which Mrs Moore and Mr Fielding, a British headmaster of a college for Indians, interact with people says a lot about their character. So I found their fledging friendships with Dr Aziz touching. Forster shows how quickly people can find commonality when they overcome their preconceptions and initial prejudice.

There's also a moving section which describes Dr Aziz's process of mourning his wife: “He had known that she would pass from his hands and eyes, but had thought she could live in his mind, not realizing that the very fact that we have loved the dead increases their unreality, and that the more passionately we invoke them the further they recede.” This is such an interesting and heart-wrenching insight into the experience of losing a loved one. I wish Forster had shown some of Dr Aziz's interactions with his children to better understand how his present family life operates. But his grief and loss add to the reason why he might be channelling so much of his energy into impressing new arrivals from England. By creating this social connection he wants to establish a level of respectability within the constructs of this colonial society.

Adela Quested arrives in India because she's considering marrying a rather deplorable British city magistrate named Ronny who is Mrs Moore's son. Adela could be called sweetly naïve or it could be said that the way in which she wants to experience the “real” India is belittling. Like many tourists she claims to want an “authentic” experience but when what she witnesses doesn't match her imagined idea of what she'd find she's discontent. I found this line about her interaction with Dr Aziz quite significant: “In her ignorance, she regarded him as 'India', and never surmised that his outlook was limited and his method inaccurate, and that no one is India.” It feels really true that the character of a country can only be understood in the multiplicity of its inhabitants as everyone will have their own slanted perspective on it. And it's also true that whenever meeting someone from a different country or culture it's important to remember that they are merely an individual who shouldn't be taken as representative of a nation.

It's masterful the way Forster creates a slow building tension between Dr Aziz who is eager to please these English women and Adela Quested who earnestly wants to understand the country as a method for clarifying to herself whether she wants to marry Ronny. This crescendoes in their trip to the Marabar Caves. For the characters it's a trifling excursion that Dr Aziz rashly suggests when he wants to avoid the embarrassment of hosting the ladies in his humble home. They accept the invite more out of a sense of politeness because neither Miss Quested or Mrs Moore are very enthusiastic about it – especially when no one can explain why the caves are significant or worthy of a trip. From this rather tedious and dutiful journey emerges a crisis which brings to a head all the simmering conflict caused by the untenable existing colonial system. The accusation which emerges from it and Dr Aziz's arrest are truly shocking. But it's also perfectly understandable that such an incident would occur when there is so much cross-cultural tension brought about by an imbalance of power. Such pressure leads to paranoia and clashes where oppressed people are further victimised. The racist white colonial inhabitants seize upon this accusation as an excuse to act out the anger and frustration they have against Indians.

Just as the story takes a surprising turn, the immediate drama is quickly deflated. This is quite a daring thing for a novel to do in terms of its plot because such a turnaround would appear to dispel any tension. But it seemed to me that the tension only mounted as the characters were left wondering about the significance of this event and their relationships to each other. It also emphasizes the sentiment that India should become an independent nation. The mystery of the story isn't about whether Dr Aziz is guilty or not because it's always clear he's innocent. The real mystery is why honest connections and true friendship between people from these two different nations is impossible in this context. The answer Forster seems to present is that wider divisions don't necessarily exist due to racism (although there aren't certainly some extremely racist characters in this book) but because of economic, political and social conflicts brought about by the colonial system.

The character of Fielding did his best to mount a defence for Dr Aziz but if Adela hadn't spoken up it seems doubtful Aziz would have been cleared. Even if he was judged innocent his reputation would be tarnished – as indeed it was regardless of his unquestionable innocence. Although I'm critical of Adela it does feel like she was brave to own up to the fact she didn't think Aziz had tried to attack her after all. This leaves her totally isolated as racist Mrs Turton is naturally furious (and her embarrassment in court is very funny) but Mrs Moore is also unprepared to engage with Adela anymore. Forster writers of Adela: “She was no longer examining life but being examined by it. She had become a real person.” So Adela feels to me like someone who means well but then realises how good intentions really have little value when she hasn't dealt with her own unacknowledged prejudices and isn't prepared to embrace the true complexity of the world.

Adela is haunted by an echo after her time in the cave as if it were her conscience pestering her. Mrs Moore also hears an echo but has a very different reaction to it because she experiences it as a crisis of faith. It results in a malaise when she realises her essential belief in goodness and Christianity can't stand up to the insidious divisions of the real world. We learn of her sad fate but she'd already withdrawn from trying to forge connections with others or engage in any of these social issues anymore. Though this is tragic it's perhaps hopeful that we later learn her children other than Ronny travel to India and develop a real appreciation for Hinduism and India's culture. The echo (being one of the main symbols of the novel) seems to have defeated Mrs Moore. Personally, I took the echo to mean that individuals are trapped in their own limited understanding of the world. It's a kind of opposite of a wasp which in this novel symbolises global unity. In the echo people are hopelessly divided. This gets at the central question posed in the first section of the novel if there can be true friendships between Indians and the English.

On this point, the friendship or attempted friendship between Dr Aziz and Mr Fielding seems to be crucial. There's a misunderstanding where Dr Aziz believes Fielding has wedded Ms Quested which naturally leaves him feeling betrayed and amplifies his belief he's been cheated out of the monetary reparations owed to him. But, more than that, there's a divide between them because of status and certain assumptions they make about each other due to nationality, religion and race. Forster amplifies it to such a degree as to state that the landscape itself comes between them. It's suggested the colonial situation creates too wide a gulf between people to allow any true connection to come forth. It's unsurprising that Dr Aziz becomes completely jaded towards the English and wants to reject them entirely (including Fielding) after the humiliation and damage of being accused as he was. However, Fielding also seems to be stuck in his own prerequisite for how he believes India should be ordered as is evidenced by his view of Venice which he contrasts to India. The fact that they aren't able to find any true connection is the great tragedy of this novel.

Alongside following the last meeting between this pair of characters, the final section is concerned with a Hindu festival – which is interesting knowing that Forster found the religion so compelling during his trips to India. To me this conclusion is making multiple points: that foreigners can never fully understand the experience of being Indian and that the traditions and culture of the country is ultimately stronger than any colonial power that tries to dominant it. However, I appreciate that this final section can feel somewhat meandering after such a character driven story.

Overall, I was very impressed with the novel in handling and honestly portraying such a complex society. Certainly Forster was writing from a certain background and his own generalisations about India and its people can be scrutinized in the narrative. But I believe this book was more intended to highlight the levels of prejudice and misunderstandings which exist in everyone and how this has led to an incredibly difficult situation in a colonized country where Britain imposed its values and forced its dominance over India. Naturally the novel can't offer a solution to these dilemmas but instead presents them in all their complexity. I loved how Forster follows the nuance of his primary characters' emotions as they mature but don't always progress. It's fascinating how each of the characters struggle with their own sense of morality in a colonial system filled with racial and religious tension. In a way the characters of Ronny and Fielding are opposite in that they've both worked for an extended period of time in the country but they interact with it and its citizens in very different ways. Forster shows how people can become trapped in certain frames of mind which create divisions that cannot be traversed. However, he also shows there can be great beauty when there are true connections – even if they only occur in fleeting moments.

It's been wonderful revisiting “A Passage to India” and I'd also highly recommend reading Damon Galgut's “Arctic Summer” which fictionally reimagines Forster's life including around the writing/publication of “A Passage to India”. I think it's a brilliant and moving novel, but I also have a penchant for novels about novelists. Additionally I watched David Lean's film version of 'A Passage to India' for the first time which was quite interesting despite being very long. It received many Academy Award nominations and it's fairly good – especially the cinematography which is spectacular. It's a shame the story is more immediately concerned with following Adela rather than Aziz and the ending is much more simplified (like a typical happy Hollywood ending.) It's also very unfortunate that Alec Guinness portrays the Indian character of Professor Godbole. But many scenes and lines from the book are faithfully portrayed and it's compelling how it visually shows many of the tensions raised in the novel.

If you're a Forster fan I'd be keen to know where you think this ranks amongst his books. I've read most of his work and I think I prefer “A Room with a View” although “A Passage to India” is more ambitious and impressive in handling such a large subject.

The Black Prince by Iris Murdoch

It often takes me a bit to get into a Murdoch novel because usually there are several central characters with complex relationships to each other. But once I get to know them all and into the drama of the story I'm totally gripped. The primary conflict in this tale is between Bradley Pearson, an aspiring writer who has published very little, and his frenemy Arnold Baffin, a bestselling prolific author whose work Bradley looks down upon. Bradley is determined to write his masterwork but finds himself distracted by a group of people's messy issues and he unexpectedly falls in love with a much younger woman. Murdoch shows how ambition, jealousy and desire play out in a highly dramatic scenario with tragic consequences. Though Bradley has lofty ambitions to write a literary masterpiece it's ironic and hilarious that this narrative mostly told from his point of view (with significant forwards and afterwards from other characters' perspectives) focuses on the kind of salacious story he sneers at. However, it's a novel that perfectly demonstrates Murdoch's tremendous ability for writing in a way which is highly entertaining as well as artful.

I enjoyed the way this cleverly structured novel explores the debate and assumed division between “highbrow” literature and popular “readable” books. Arguments in the story concerning quality versus quantity in literary output and criticism made about new literature feel like they must have been close to Murdoch's heart. In her usual temperate manner, she approaches these issues with both great seriousness and a sly smile. The characters often represent sharply divided points of view or embody certain ideas. However, they also come alive as individuals and feel realistic in much of their evocative dialogue. Murdoch was such a master at writing compelling and fun books which also explored profound ideas and made frequent literary references. Shakespeare is an important touchstone in her work and this novel specifically plays upon 'Hamlet' in character parallels and overt discussions about the play's meaning and how it relates to Shakespeare's life as an artist.

It was initially challenging for me to get into this novel because Bradley is in many ways such a loathsome character. He's pretentious, cruel to his friends, dismissive towards his suicidal sister and seduces a woman less than half his age. Given that his voice dominates the narrative I didn't know if I could stomach his story. I often enjoy reading about unlikeable characters but his arrogant and self-centred manner is particularly irksome to me. However, he became a character I loved to hate as Murdoch subtly undermines him through the structure of her plot showing how his world implodes and he's served a delicious form of punishment. At the same time he's presented as thoroughly human and allotted a good measure of integrity. There's a lot more that happens in this story and a large cast of compelling characters from Bradley's wealthy ex-wife Christian to her cash-strapped gay brother Francis who makes the outrageous claim that Shakespeare was “The greatest homosexual of them all.” These figures all play off from one another in an enticing way.

It was especially pleasing that the BT Tower (formerly called the Post Office Tower) plays a role in this novel. It's such a distinct London landmark and there's a fun scene where two characters have dinner at the revolving restaurant at the top (which no longer operates.) Details such as this and the sensibility of the characters bring to life the sensation of 1970s England. It's interesting to contemplate what things have changed and what's stayed the same while also pondering all the universal issues that the author dramatises. I've still only read several books from Murdoch's impressive oeuvre of twenty-six novels. Reading “A Fairly Honourable Defeat” over the summer was such a pleasure, but I think “The Bell” is one of my favourites so far. I look forward to continuing my journey of reading through her complete works.

Forbidden Notebook by Alba De Cespedes (translated by Ann Goldstein)

There's a deceptively simple premise to Alba De Cespedes' 1952 novel which has recently been published in a new English translation. Office worker and housewife Valeria Cossati impulsively purchases a notebook to secretly record her thoughts and reflections. She has the sense that this is a transgressive act and when her family consider the possibility of her keeping a diary they find it laughable because they assume she'd have nothing to write about. So the notebook is kept hidden and she becomes increasingly anxious it might be found. It's challenging to keep it concealed because her lower-middle class family live in a small apartment. This adds to the feeling that this is an individual with no space of her own and the notebook becomes her refuge. We're the only ones privy to her writings which become a journey of self discovery as well as a record of the transition her family is going through over a period of several months. It's profoundly moving following how Valeria articulates her desires and negotiates her position in the world through this conversation with herself.

There's an increasing dramatic tension as there are developments within her family but there's also an increasing fear this notebook might be found and read by a family member. Of course, it's possible someone else might be reading her notebook without her knowing about it. She becomes increasingly candid discussing her thoughts about her husband, children and romantic feelings that develop between Valeria and her boss at work. Her children are almost adults so she must re-negotiate her position as a wife and mother. It's significant her own husband Michele now calls her “mamma” instead of her name as if her identity is only centred around her being a mother. It's fascinating how she wants to break free of the constraints of this role, but she also embraces and loves her position within her family. Yet the very act of secretly writing the notebook means she must stay up late at night. This adds to her sense of fatigue on top of keeping a job as well as cleaning and cooking for her family.

So many thoughts and feelings have been building inside her for years. Now that she's found an outlet for them through the notebook it becomes almost an obsession to her. She remarks that “It's strange: our inner life is what counts most for each of us and yet we have to pretend to live it as if we paid no attention to it, with inhuman security.” It's stunning how meaningfully this narrative presents the divide between her inner and outer life. The act of writing is like dipping deeper and deeper into a well of suppressed emotion. It also presents her specific position as an Italian post-war woman grappling with financial pressures. She's caught between her more liberal daughter Mirella and more conservative son Riccardo. Even though the diaries are necessarily only from her perspective, the narrative also gives a sense that her husband and boss have their own private lives whose expression is being suppressed. Her husband Michele has written a racy film manuscript and her boss Guido goes into the office on Saturdays as a respite from the demands of family life. In this way the novel illuminates how this tension between the inner and outer life is universal.

I naturally felt very sympathetic towards Valeria and the position she maintains. But I can also see why her family would grow impatient and fearful of her. Scenes she recollects in the notebook show how she often presents quite a strict and steely exterior. It's understandable she feels the need to conceal her notebook but it also feels like a tragedy that her family can't understand her as fully as the reader does because she won't allow them to know about her inner life. At times I almost wished they would discover it in order to get a better insight into Valeria's struggles. The situation raises poignant questions about how close we really are to the people we think we know the most and what levels of honesty are possible within the structure of our familial and romantic lives. Since this novel was written over fifty years ago it also makes me reflect upon past generations of my own family and consider the secret inner lives my grandparents led which I won't ever know about. This novel is a testament to those lost interior worlds but it's also a highly compelling story which describes the human condition with candour and insight.

23 Classics to Read in 2023

I enjoy making a New Year's resolution to challenge myself to read or reread some classics that I've never got around to. As encouragement I make a reading list for the year inspired by certain books celebrating an anniversary based on initial publication date or an author's birthday or a new reprint. You can watch me discuss these 23 books here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28oc5Vel0lA

The titles I've chosen for this year's list range from novels first published two hundred years ago to fifty years ago. Certain books such as “Around the World in Eighty Days”, “The Good Soldier Svejk”, “Catch 22” and “Sula” are celebrated and widely read classics. Some include less well known titles from famous authors such as Mary Shelley, Thomas Hardy, Joseph Conrad, Willa Cather and Aldous Huxley. Some such as “Ourika”, “Thy Neighbour's Wife” and “Bobbin Up” are now more obscure books due for a resurgence. And others are from authors whose work is being reprinted for the first time in many years.

I've tried to include a diversity of titles so that some will probably be familiar while others might be from authors you've never encountered before. I discovered some surprising connections when researching my list such as Virginia Woolf's short story which is a precursor to her tremendous novel “Mrs Dalloway”, the influence Jaroslav Hasek had on Joseph Heller and how a Willa Cather novel greatly inspired F. Scott Fitzgerald in writing “The Great Gatsby”. It's wonderful how reading classic titles will naturally lead you on to finding other titles to enjoy till literary history begins to resemble a patchwork quilt of connected books.

The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins

I was especially keen to read “The Moonstone” since it's credited as having established many of the parameters and rules of the modern detective novel. Elements found in mysteries such as an English country house setting, red herrings, a clever investigator, a large number of suspects and a final plot twist might feel commonplace amongst many books in this genre now, but Collins' novel appears to have been one of the first to successfully combine these into a thrilling story. It concerns a legendary Indian diamond that's bequeathed to Rachel, an heiress who first wears the stone at her lavish birthday party. However, it goes missing during the night and it's disappearance concerns much more than simple thievery. There are many side plots and dramatic occurrences within the story which gradually unravels to produce a surprising conclusion. 

It's no wonder this novel was a hit with the general public who read it in serial form when it first appeared in Charles Dickens' magazine. It was subsequently published as a book in 1868. Gabriel Betteredge, the household's head servant and the first narrator in this epistolary novel, is so charming and sweetly funny. He frequently reads a copy of “Robinson Crusoe” and compulsively refers to it for guidance as if it were the bible. Betteredge also strikes up a friendship with Sergeant Cuff, the renowned detective who takes charge of solving the case. However, their relationship becomes strained as Cuff's suspect list begins to include many members of the household including Rachel herself. I found the down-to-earth quality of both these men really endearing especially the way Cuff is actually more interested in retiring and growing roses than he is in seeing justice served.

It's also extremely entertaining reading the point of view of Rachel's poor cousin Drusilla Clack, the second narrator of this story, as she is extremely pious and evangelical about pressing her religion on those around her. But everyone firmly rebuffs her proselytizing and clearly considers her to be an annoyance. It's clever how engaging Betteredge and Clack are as narrators while also laying out lots of vital clues to intrigue the reader. The plot really heats up going forward as we continue by following Franklin Blake, one of Rachel's suitors. He seeks to untangle what really went on during the night of Rachel's party and clear his name from the suspect list as he appears to be guilty. While I was delighted by the many twists in the story they did grow to feel increasingly ridiculous and impossible. Perhaps implausibility is also a necessary element of most detective stories because they want to create a heightened sense of drama. Also, it's somewhat uncomfortable how a large part of this premise relies on colonial exoticism and an exaggerated sense of Indian mysticism with a group of disguised Hindu Brahmins lingering in the background as additional suspects.

Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed the humour and excitement of this tale. It's genuinely thrilling as well as emotionally engaging so it was such a pleasure to read. I was excited to learn that Anthony Trollope created a parody of this novel with his book “The Eustace Diamonds”. So I look forward to reading that once I get to Trollope's “Palliser” series of novels. Trollope poked fun at Dickens in his novel “The Warden” with great comic effect so he clearly enjoyed sending up some of the most popular fiction of the day. Yet, the influence of Collins' novel is irrefutably far reaching in how it set the standard for murder mystery stories. Though this tale is initially solely about a theft, bodies are discovered along the way giving a heightened sense that the culprit is lurking around the corner and must be discovered before they strike again. 

Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope

I'm grateful I've been reading Trollope's Barsetshire series in order because – although the central protagonists of this fourth book “Framley Parsonage” are new – there are a host of familiar characters in the background who are also integrally involved in some of the novel's side plots. Though I'm sure readers unfamiliar with the previous books would still enjoy this novel the experience is greatly enhanced by a knowledge of these established characters. It's a wonderful pleasure to again meet the domineering Mrs Proudie with her weak-willed bishop husband who were first introduced in “Barchester Towers” and confident, clever Miss Dunstable who we first met in “Doctor Thorne”. In this new novel we even get a new generation as Griselda, the eldest daughter of Dr Grantly and Susan Grantly (who we first met in “The Warden”), is now looking to marry and there are a couple of suitors in contention. In fact, there a number of marriage plots in this new novel which all spin in the wings amidst the book's central story of Mark Robarts, a young vicar who gets drawn into the glamorous lives of the county's aristocracy and unfairly burdened by a debt attached to the cunning Nathaniel Sowerby. Mark's patroness Lady Lufton is deeply saddened by how he's seduced into this faction of the upper class and she serves as a fantastically intimidating foil to the set of characters that revolve around the Duke of Omnium. 

Like a soap opera, the book is perhaps a little overburdened with plot lines as there are also the stories of Harold Smith's short-lived time as a cabinet minister and Mr Crawley, an impoverished clergyman who needs assistance as his wife is stricken with typhus. It makes sense that Trollope had so much going on since this novel was written in serial form for a magazine edited by William Thackeray. However, for the most part, the abundance of story lines balance well and come together to present a fantastically entertaining and compelling portrait of a community. It's a tale rich in themes surrounding ambition, money and marriage. As always, Trollope's characters are so dynamic that even more “villainous” figures such as Mr Sowerby are presented in a semi-compassionate way. But that doesn't stop the author poking fun at the foibles of several characters and playing them against each other. Nor is the author an invisible puppet master working in the background as what really makes Trollope's novels rise above typical stories of scandal and romance is the way the narrator frequently intervenes to converse with the reader on the issues at stake, the choices the characters make and the nature of society.

One of my favourite scenes is when the characters indulge in a social fad which they label a “conversazione”. Though it's really just a party with a pretentious name it's hilarious how it leads to discussions about what should and shouldn't be allowed to occur at a “conversazione”. There are several interactions which occur at this party concerning certain characters' marriage prospects. It also culminates in a confrontation between the novel's two most politically opposed characters Lady Lufton and the Duke of Omnium. As I know from reading “Barchester Towers”, Trollope writes truly captivating and uproarious party scenes. But he also beautifully describes moments of great tenderness such a discussion concerning the nature of grief between Mark's sister Lucy and Lady Lufton's son Ludovic. I also adored the dynamic between Mark and his loving wife Fanny who must not only serve as an intermediary between Mark and Lady Lufton but loyally stands by Mark when the debt collectors come knocking at their door.

Though Trollope doesn't often create much dramatic tension concerning the conclusions of his plots, I was surprised by the fate of Miss Dunstable in this novel. I despaired for her having to fend off yet another scheming suitor intent on marrying her for her money and I love how she relishes “ridiculing the world's humbugs.” So it was satisfying to see her finding comfort and happiness in this story. Certainly, there are some uncomfortably telling moments about the attitudes and values of mid-19th century society from the way certain characters refer to Jewish people or some characters describe their colonialist plans to “civilize an island in the South Pacific”. Yet, there are also many wonderful scenes and keen observations Trollope makes that his books continues to be an absolute delight to read and I'm looking forward to the next two books in the Chronicles of Barsetshire. 

22 Classics to Read in 2022

There are always classics which I think I'll get around to reading, but somehow I never find the time. So I think the New Year is the perfect occasion to make a resolution to finally get to some of these classic books. I've made a list of 22 classics I'd like to read or reread in 2022 – since revisiting a classic is always a valuable experience and you can watch me discuss all my picks here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zzubPftOsLE

Many of these books have a special anniversary coming up concerning their first publication or their author's birth or there's a new film/tv series being adapted from the book. 1922 seemed to be bumper year for Modernist fiction as “Ulysses” by James Joyce appeared for the first time in its complete version as well as the books “Jacob's Room” by Virginia Woolf, “The Wasteland” by TS Eliot and “The Garden Party and Other Stories” by Katherine Mansfield. The final instalment of “Middlemarch” by George Eliot also first appeared 150 years ago in 1872. The oldest book on my list “Moll Flanders” by Daniel Defoe first appeared 300 years ago in 1722.

I'd also like to read some classics from outside of England including “All About H. Hatterr: A Gesture” by G V Desani (which is often called the Indian “Ulysses”), “The Castle” by Franz Kafka, “The Real Story of Ah-Q and other tales of China” by Lu Xun and “Manual of Painting & Calligraphy” by Jose Saramago. I'm not promising I'll get to all of them, but it's a good reading list to start from. Are there any classic books you're planning to read this coming year?

Lady Chatterley's Lover by D. H. Lawrence

I've never felt that keen on reading “Lady Chatterley's Lover” because I always assumed it was a bonkbuster dressed up as literary fiction. This notion probably comes from my vague awareness it was banned for obscenity reasons in both the UK and US. But given that I'm eager to read Alison Macleod's lengthy new novel “Tenderness” which is about Lawrence's life and the fate of “Lady Chatterley's Lover” after his death I thought it'd be interesting to read the original novel first. So I was delighted by what a thoughtful and engaging book it is. The story revolves around Constance who is married to Sir Clifford, a Baronet and author of middling writing that nonetheless gets him press attention. He sustained a war injury which has left him paralysed from the waist down so their lives become purely intellectual rather than physical and consist of evenings of thoughtful debate with members of the upper classes. Gradually, Connie becomes very depressed and in her wanderings over the estate happens upon reclusive gamekeeper Mellors. Their guarded acquaintance gradually builds to a passionate affair complete with frolicking naked in the rain and giving pet names to each other's genitals. But this only comes two thirds of the way through the novel and the story is more about class division and different kinds of self realisation that can be found through love. 

Sir Clifford firmly believes that natural hierarchies are formed through class division, but Connie is naturally wary of this position and is more sympathetic to Mellors' more anarchic attitude which rebels against the traditional English social system. I appreciated the way Lawrence shows the competing positions of different characters in regards to romance and love. This includes a number of peripheral characters in addition to the central figures of Sir Clifford who develops a strong attachment to his nurse Mrs Bolton and Connie's passionate affair with Mellors. Of course, their intellectual reasoning about the dynamics of sex don't always align with how they feel when confronted with the reality and it's engaging how this plays out over the course of the story.

Though Mellors is more in the background at first he comes to dominate the text in the later part of the book when vociferously giving his opinions about women and the class system. Since the narrative cedes to his position it's natural to assume that this is the point of view Lawrence himself is most sympathetic with and the character he probably identified with the most. Some criticism I've read such as Joyce Carol Oates' essay “At Least I Have Made a Woman of Her: Images of Women in Yeats, Lawrence and Faulkner” seems to take this as a given. Certainly, Mellors' views are alarming given his grievance over his broken marriage as well as his hatred towards lesbians and Jewish people. Moreover he expresses murderous rage. But I don't like to naturally assume that Mellors is a mere cipher for Lawrence's own views. He is a character and there are certainly figures in the novel such as Connie's sister who criticise Mellors and offer alternative points of view. I assumed that his influence is felt so strongly because Connie herself has been romantically captivated by him.

The sexually explicit parts of the novel weren't nearly as cringe-worthy as I expected them to be. They did make me chuckle a bit and it's still somewhat shocking to read certain words being used knowing when this was written, but I think these sections work well because the characters also take them in good humour. They seem to revel in how filthy and explicit they're being in the way that lovers can do when totally indulging in each other's bodies. What made me more uncomfortable was an early section of the novel where Connie strips in front of a mirror and critically evaluates her body using disparaging terms such as “greyish”, “sapless” and “meaningless”. In contrast, when she glimpses Mellors washing his body outside the male form is presented in an idealized way. It makes sense to use such descriptions as the novel is about how Connie comes to fully inhabit her physical body as she engages with sensual as well as intellectual aspects of reality. Nevertheless, it feels dicey when a male author writes about women's bodies in such a derogatory way while men's bodies aren't subject to the same critical gaze in the novel.

Having recently read Sally Rooney's new novel “Beautiful World, Where Are You” I couldn't help thinking that her books are in some ways modern versions of a Lawrence novel. The way she focuses on class politics and the sometimes uneasy relationship between mind and body complement a lot of the issues Lawrence raised. Looking into it more, I was glad to see I'm not the only one who has made this parallel since it's something Claire Jarvis remarked upon in her article 'Contemporary Clothing' and James Marriott states “Lawrence's seriousness about sex should appeal to fans of Sally Rooney” in his article 'Why millennials should read Lawrence'. I feel somewhat ashamed I hesitated reading Lawrence for so long because I assumed his writing is out of date and his books are more concerned with indulging in sensuality rather than describing the complicated dynamics of sex. Though this novel certainly isn't above criticism, it's much more compelling and surprising than I expected. The pernicious effect of a novel being subjected to a famous censorship trial is that the criticisms lobbed at it seep into people's impression of a book they have not actually read and though I reject censorship it still influenced my assumptions about this novel. I look forward to reading more of Lawrence's work to discover what other curiosities his books contain.

In Youth is Pleasure by Denton Welch

There are some voices which reach out from the past because they feel so alive with mischievous humour and a startlingly singular point of view. Prose can strongly encapsulate such a sensibility when it's written with as much feeling and precision as Denton Welch used to embody his 15 year-old character Orvil's perspective. We follow him during his idle summer holiday spent at a hotel with his aloof father and older brothers. The slim novel “In Youth is Pleasure” was first published in 1945 and its author only lived for a few more years (dying when he was 33 years old), but this text is still breathing and giving us the side-eye. 

Orvil does a lot of looking, a lot of observing and a lot of judging in this story. He could be classified as a voyeur as he watches from behind a bush some boys and their schoolmaster out on a peculiar boat trip where “Jane Eyre” is read aloud. In another scene he spies from the shadows his eldest brother making love to a woman. From a window he looks through another window at a man dancing to music and dressing after his ablutions. There's a safety found in his solitary observations where he can silently appraise some people as “rather fat” or certain behaviour as “vulgar”. He seems to be equally harsh on himself as it is stated “He was afraid that now, at fifteen, he was beginning to lose his good looks.”

Through his gaze the world is transformed in a brutally bizarre and imaginative way. For instance, he describes a man's flabby pecs as “so gay and ridiculous; like two little animated castle-puddings” and a woman's breasts become “miniature volcanoes with holes at the top, out of which poured clouds of milky-white smoke, and sometimes long, thin, shivering tongues of fire”. Bodies morph into absurdities, but he also regards people with a kind of detached fascination so that we understand the sharp barrier between him and the world. When this barrier is removed it elicits terror and violence but also ecstatic jubilation. In doing so, Welch captures Orvil's intensely solitary state where he longs to be with other people but is also repulsed by them.

Orvil's father seldom figures in his days as there is a mutual disinterest and he's wary of spending much time with his brothers. The figure he really longs for is his mother who died a few years ago, but he maintains vivid and sometimes disturbing memories of her. Two individuals he meets appear to be kinds of parental replacements. He forms a sweet attachment to his eldest brother Charles' maternal friend Aphra. He also has a few encounters with the mysterious, nameless schoolmaster who seems to alternately fill the roles of father, teacher, persecutor and a fairy tale witch. Their interactions are so curious it makes me wonder if this is even a real person or a figure that Orvil has simply conjured as part of his imaginative games.

As Edmund White observes in his astute introduction to the new edition of this novel, Orvil is “strangely attracted to filth”. Though he has a desire for what is refined such as a trip to lunch at the Ritz he can't help but envision the flowing filth of the city accumulating beneath the civilized surface. I think the allure of what's repulsive isn't so much about revelling in being gross, but an attraction for what's transgressive as a way to question the values and morals of the society he feels detached from. He is also fascinated by and sees beauty in things which have been discarded or broken. The way he relates to and values very particular objects movingly demonstrates the distinctive way he sees the world.

Orvil has a unique aesthetic, but there's also a poignancy in this depiction of a boy at a stage in his life where he has the sensibility of an adult and the imagination of a child. A lot of his wanderings include losing himself in fantasies where he can indulge in pretensions or revel in sado-masochistic desires. In one private game he wraps himself in chains and violently flogs his own back. In such mental spaces he can also playfully explore the boundaries of gender. He steals of a tube of lipstick to secretly paint his lips and other parts of his body. At other times he strips down naked outside as an act of transgression and liberation. The way that Denton writes about these experiences makes them feel more natural than they are perverse because they are freed from a general morality and merely reflect the proclivities of an utterly unique teenage boy. I absolutely adored this book and its tender spirit of youthful curiosity which casually dances through fantasies and nightmares.

The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall

It's incredible to discover that less than a hundred years ago in 1928 James Douglas, the editor of the Sunday Express, wrote an article calling for a ban of “The Well of Loneliness” stating: “In order to prevent the contamination and corruption of English fiction it is the duty of the critic to make it impossible for any other novelist to repeat this outrage.” His campaign successfully led to the book being formally banned in Britain because of its representation of homosexuality as being a natural facet of identity and it wasn't made legally available again in this country until 1949. 

This is the first time I've read this classic novel. I can only imagine what it would have meant to a gay person early in the 20th century to read it and discover a kinship of feeling – not just for the book's portrayal of female protagonist Stephen Gordon's emotional and sexual closeness to people of the same gender or Stephen's desire to dress in more masculine clothes – but the overwhelming sense it gives of being made to feel different and wrong for your very existence. The first section of the book describes Stephen's coming of age and feeling continuously frustrated “for she did not know the meaning of herself.” Nor does she have language available to describe her difference. Those that seem to understand her queerness (even her own father) refuse to name it so for many years her estrangement and isolation is felt all the more intensely. 

Of course, to me and any sensitive or queer person who read it at the time of publication, it's perfectly obvious what Stephen is. Her early passionate crush on a beautiful maid and misguided affair with a married American woman are so touchingly portrayed because they are expressions of longing which can never be fulfilled in a satisfying way – not just because Stephen's feelings can't be equally reciprocated but because there's a fundamental miscommunication of desire. What's wonderful is that over the course of the novel Stephen discovers the words with which to describe herself and this leads to her liberation. She eventually labels herself as an invert. What's more, after being exiled from the stately home of her birth and meeting a woman she falls in love with while working for an ambulance unit during WWI, she discovers a community of similarly queer individuals while living in Paris. Yet, even though there is a group of people with codes and behaviour which loosely groups them together as inverts, their venues and meetings are kept in the shadows. That their community remains furtive and largely unacknowledged means that Stephen's feelings of isolation and estrangement will persist no matter what personal and private fulfilment she achieves.

It's quite moving how the ending of the novel is a rallying call where Stephen's voice joins with “millions” to demand “Give us also the right to our existence!” It's undoubtably a novel with a political message which Sir Charles Biron, the chief magistrate overseeing the book's trial in November 1928 described as “a passionate and almost hysterical plea for the toleration and recognition of these people”. So it wasn't just a worry that the novel might “corrupt those into whose hands it should fall” but that it will motivate queer people and people sympathetic to queer expression to campaign for legislation which will protect queer rights. Though Radclyffe Hall insisted the novel should be circulated simply because of its literary merit, the Bloomsbury Group who actively campaigned for its publication and the courts which ordered “it to be destroyed” openly acknowledged the stakes involved.

That this novel should still survive as both a document of this societal divide and a richly immersive story in itself is wonderful and it should quite rightly stand as a cornerstone of queer literature. Many would argue its political importance has passed and its tragic arc gives a negative representation that true happiness can't ever be found for queer people, but as an individual's journey of self discovery and a query into the lines of gender I think it remains a worthy story. I also found it interesting how the novel's narrative focus occasionally drifts to characters other than Stephen so you can clearly see their point of view. The story even comically focuses at some points on how Stephen's dog David sees the world and view's Stephen's lover as a goddess. Like the protagonist in “Orlando”, Stephen's semi-open expression of queerness is only possible because of her wealth and privilege. I think it's important to acknowledge that it's necessarily limited in this respect as (of course) expressions of queer desire existed amongst every social class so I find it heartening we're now getting new historical novels such as “The Prophets”, “Days Without End”, “White Houses” and “A Place Called Winter” which describe expressions of same sex desire amongst many different levels of society. Despite it being a product of its time, it remains an extremely enjoyable story full of insights and pleasure as it follows Stephen's singular journey.

Doctor Thorne by Anthony Trollope

It's been such a pleasure continuing my first reading of Trollope's Barsetshire series. While “Barchester Towers” greatly expanded on the characters and dilemmas first met in “The Warden”, the two books seemed to neatly follow on from each other. So it was interesting to find “Doctor Thorne” takes a broader view of the geographical region and introduces entirely original dramas and a host of vibrant new personalities while only occasionally still featuring small appearances from previously met characters such as the Bishop and Mrs Proudie. 

The primary story of this third book involves the dilemma of Frank Gresham, the son of a gentry family that is in dire financial difficulty. It's repeatedly impressed upon him that he must marry for money but Frank falls for Mary Thorne, a young woman with no money who was born out of wedlock. Mary has been raised by her morally upstanding uncle Doctor Thorne who is the only one that knows the scandalous history of her true parentage. The other main plot points of this novel concern a lineage of alcoholism in the Scatcherd family who've achieved substantial wealth from patriarch Sir Roger Scatcherd's success building railways across the country. The story also follows his troubled campaign to be elected to Parliament.

These aspects result in a compelling portrait of mid-19th century England whose society was rapidly changing with the advent of industrial growth and the prospect of marriage between different classes. Many families of high social ranking found they needed the help of new money to maintain their privileged lifestyle and Trollope teases out the uncomfortable tension and hypocrisy that results from this. I think I've got a good feel of Trollope's sensibility and style of writing now which mixes lively social commentary with touches of delicious satire. This creates some truly funny, touching and memorable scenes as his vibrant characters get into squabbles, engage in romantic trysts and form supportive bonds with each other. 

It's pointed that Trollope named the novel Doctor Thorne when it could be argued the real hero of the story is Frank. There are long chapters which follow this young man's uneasy introduction into society where he meets a suitably-wealthy potential wife, attends a hilariously impersonal Duke's dinner at a castle and takes violent revenge upon his sister's ex-fiance. Yet, Doctor Thorne hovers behind the story as the only one with special knowledge regarding his niece's true origins, the beneficiary of the Scatcherd's will and the medical condition of several characters. The plot really hinges upon what he chooses to reveal and how he chooses to act. I often felt frustrated with his character until later on in the novel when it's remarked that because of his values he believes we must take serious responsibility for our actions despite what we may think or feel. It struck me then how Trollope is meaningfully considering the position we're all put in when choosing how to conduct ourselves and what it means to be a good person. So for this reason and because of his involvement in the central plot, Doctor Thorne is really the person with the most agency and binds the novel together.

Trollope himself playfully speculates within the narrative about the title of the novel and when Doctor Thorne is absent for a number of chapters he humorously reintroduces him. A distinct aspect of Trollope's writing is the way he speaks directly to the reader and self-consciously discusses the plot or how he'll tell the story. A later section of the book is wonderfully told through an exchange of letters between women discussing a marriage prospect. Trollope discusses reverting to this epistolary form of narrative and we discover later on why it was so important to have these women writing in their own voices because there were biased motives behind the advice which was given. This is a delightfully clever and effective form of storytelling.

It also frequently and unashamedly presents the author's own affection towards some characters and prejudice against others. Trollope is scathing in his descriptions and the storylines he creates for characters such as Mr Moffat, a suitor for one of the Gresham girls with high political and social aspirations. Trollope is also entertainingly critical of privileged families and their properties describing them in disparaging terms. Characters the author feels great fondness for such as Mary Thorne and Lady Scatcherd are described in much warmer terms. He also presents such a compelling and dynamic portrait of Martha Dunstable, a wealthy heiress who multiple gentlemen in the novel scheme to capture as a wife. Yet she is extremely aware of their motives for courting her and hilariously dismisses or confronts them. This makes her my favourite character that I've encountered in Trollope's novels so far. However, Trollope seldom wholly portrays his characters as heroes or villains and depicts most of them as dynamic and complex. For instance, Frank's naivety is evident but he's also a young, idealistic man so his fumbling and misadventures are understandable and this made him quite an endearing character.

Something I've noticed about Trollope's novels is that he can get a bit repetitious in some chapters. Later on in the story we get some conversations insisting on Frank's need to marry for money even though this was made abundantly clear already. I think the author unintentionally tests the reader's patience when repeatedly discussing the conflicts his plots revolve around as a similar thing happened in the previous novels when debating about who would be the warden of Hiram's Hospital. Perhaps this is just a side effect of the deliberate narrative style that Trollope chose and it's his way of keeping his plots ticking along to their heavily foreshadowed conclusions to allow space for his wonderful characterisations, dramatic scenes and social commentary. It's a small quibble to make about his books which overall I find such a comfort and entertaining joy to read. So I'm looking forward to reading the rest of the Barsetshire series as well as more of Trollope's books. It's also been great participating in the Trollope Society's fortnightly bookclub meetings focusing on this novel as getting the engaged perspectives of other readers and Trollope fans has really enhanced my experience and understanding of the book.

Doctor Thorne Big Read

I've been enjoying reading more classic fiction recently and a new favourite is the work of Anthony Trollope. Part of the pleasure of reading his famous Barsetshire series of novels for the first time is that I've been doing so alongside members of the Trollope Society. Over the months of November and December there were online video meetings discussing sections of “Barchester Towers”. This greatly enhanced my understanding of the context of the historical period portrayed and it was enlightening to engage in debates about the characters and plot. More than this, since we've been in various stages of lockdown for the past several months, it was just nice to see a range of new faces! 

It was also helpful to get a range of points of view about the book from beginners, devoted fans who have read and reread Trollope's books and experts like the professor John Bowen who wrote the introduction to the Oxford World's Classics edition of “Barchester Towers”. This meant discussions about the book were both educational and light-hearted. At one point in the final meeting there was a funny debate about whether the somewhat stuffy and dull character of Mr Arabin was sexy or not. Although, personally, I have more of a soft spot for bearded Bertie Stanhope!

Since it was such a delightful experience I'm thrilled that the Trollope Society is launching another global online Big Read focusing this time on “Doctor Thorne”, book three in the Barsetshire series. It will take place on Zoom every two weeks from February 1 to March 15. There will also be a very special guest on February 8 when director and screenwriter Julian Fellowes will be in conversation with broadcaster Gyles Brandreth to discuss Fellowes' 2016 television adaptation of “Doctor Thorne”.

This is a great opportunity for people who are new to the novel (like me) and people who have read it before to join in regular meetings to talk over this story which focuses of the difficulties of forming romantic attachments outside one's social class. I'm sure the novel is also filled with Trollope's characteristic humour and engaging writing style. Unlike the first two novels in the series, I believe this book mostly includes new characters so can be more easily read independently if you've not yet got to reading “The Warden” and “Barchester Towers”.

Over 300 Trollope enthusiasts from around the world took part in the first Big Read and multiple people wrote to let me know how much they enjoyed participating so I’d love for you to join me in the “Doctor Thorne” Big Read. You can find out more information and register for free here: https://trollopesociety.org/event/doctor-thorne-1/

I'm really looking forward to starting “Doctor Thorne” and hope to see you there on February 1st!

Barchester Towers by Anthony Trollope

Although “Barchester Towers” is often considered to be the most widely-read and best-loved of Trollope's novels (it was voted the public's favourite in a recent poll held by The Trollope Society), it is the second book in the author's Barsetshire series. Therefore, I'm glad I read “The Warden” first because this new tale follows directly on from the first by developing (or quickly dispensing with) many of the characters and continuing the dilemma of who will be the warden of Hiram's Hospital. But it also introduces several absolutely fascinating new characters into this English cathedral town and positions them in sharp opposition to each other. It's as if Trollope sets out a number of beautifully-crafted chess pieces and lets them battle with each other. But, rather than bloodshed and earth-trembling theatrics, the drama of this novel is relatively low-key concerning prospects of marriage and who will be employed in different professional positions. That doesn't mean the emotions in this book are less intensely felt. Rather, it's a wholly absorbing narrative which is both entertaining in its plot and fascinating in the way it evokes a particular society from a certain era. 

The esteemed bishop of Barchester recently died and, rather than being replaced by his son Archdeacon Grantly as expected, a new Prime Minister instead decrees that relative newcomer Mr Proudie take the appointment of bishop. It soon becomes clear that Bishop Proudie is rather weak-willed and heavily influenced by the figures of his domineering wife Mrs Proudie and the calculating chaplain Obadiah Slope. Their new power immediately introduces a schism in the community and church between Bishop Proudie's camp on one side and Dr Grantly, Mrs Grantly and Mr Harding's camp on the other. This leads to a lot of scheming and gossip especially when it comes to the programmes the church will conduct and who will be appointed to that controversial position of the warden of Barchester. Will it be Mr Harding, Mr Slope or Mr Quiverful, a poor clergyman with fourteen children? In a way the dilemma regarding this role of warden is so drawn out having been debated about over two novels that it does become a bit tiresome. Yet, it also allows for moments of great humour as the heated discussions bring out the petty, conniving attitudes or befuddled natures of many different characters.

Caught between these two camps is Mr Harding's daughter Mrs Eleanor Bold, a widow who possesses a comfortable fortune. Unbeknownst to her, she's become the most eligible bachelorette in town and multiple men including Mr Slope, Bertie Stanhope (an idle, roguish, bearded artist) and Mr Arabin (the vicar of St Ewold) all vie for her favour. Other parties become involved in trying to arrange her suitor as well. The romantic question of who Eleanor might ultimately end up with is the more interesting dilemma of the novel especially because she's such a strong-willed individual whose best interests are subsumed by the gossip and political battles of those that surround her. I felt Eleanor's plight is sympathetically handled as she tries to introduce an even-handed attitude towards the warring factions of this community but finds that speculation about her intentions sadly supersedes honest engagement about what she wants.

As if these dilemmas and array of personalities weren't enough, Trollope introduces a number of other sub-plots and characters to the story. The most striking of which is the imposing presence of La Signora Madeline Vesey Neroni who is the imperious sister of Bertie Stanhope. She likes to pretend she's a member of high nobility through her estranged Italian husband though he “had not the faintest title to call himself a scion of even Italian nobility.” She has a wickedly flirtatious manner and commands the attention of any room she enters, especially because the leg injuries she sustained because of her husband's abuse means she must be carried around on a sofa. This is such a fascinating character I felt she really deserved a novel of her own. And her presence, in addition to many other characters, does make the flow of this story a bit too unwieldy and overly complex. However, I think a reread of the novel would make the presence and motives of these individuals a lot more clear. There's also so much pleasure to be had in the story that I know it's one I'd like to return to.

Trollope's writing style is so fascinating because, as in “The Warden”, the author's presence is strongly felt over the course of “Barchester Towers”. He'll sometimes self-consciously direct the narrative (especially based on his preference for certain characters), introduce opinionated asides or debate about the form of the novel itself within the story. Rather than being disruptive, this adds more humour to the novel and makes it almost theatrical in the conceit that what we're experiencing is fiction rather than a straightforwardly realistic drama. Sometimes the characters themselves seem in on the joke such as when at one point Signora Neroni remarks: “There is no happiness in love except at the end of an English novel.” As with all great classics, the plot isn't the most interesting aspect of the novel. Rather, the process and discussion which happens in between the action is consistently fascinating. That's what makes it a book worth going back to because it offers such an interesting point of view and is full of compelling ideas. Reading this novel, especially in the context of the Trollope Society's 'Big Read', was so enjoyable and I'm greatly looking forward to reading the third book in the Barsetshire series.

21 Classics to Read in 2021

One of the most consoling reading experiences I had at the end of 2020 was starting Anthony Trollope's 'The Chronicles of Barsetshire' series. The wonderful thing about reading a prolific 19th century author for the first time and greatly enjoying his work is that I now have his whole back catalogue to discover! I'm excited that I have four more books in this series to read as well as an entire other series (the Palliser novels) and all his many other books as well. This is certainly enough to keep me busy but I'm always eager to see what other classic books I might strongly connect with if I give them a chance. Every year I like to make a list of classic books I want to read (or reread) so I've chosen 21 books I'm hoping to get to in 2021. Some of these books are centuries old, some were written by 20th century authors and some are more recent books that publishers are putting forward as new classics. You can watch me discuss my choices here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDg-Vh88cnE

There's no set criteria for what makes a classic book. Who decides which books can be labelled classic? Is it scholars, literary critics, publishers, editors, book prizes or the general reading public? Some age-old books might fall out of fashion but find new relevance like Giovanni Boccaccio's “The Decameron” has in the past year because of the pandemic. Some books might be lauded at the time but their ideas, style of writing and sensibility might not continue to be relevant as the years past. The syllabus of literature courses is always changing. Just because a book wins a major award doesn't mean it will continue to be reprinted and read in the years to come. A book might be published to relative obscurity but find a champion who brings the book's importance to the attention of the public who newly embrace it many years after it first came out. Regardless of what makes a classic, I've always been fascinated by the concept and like to playfully consider what books being published today might still be treasured centuries from now. I'm looking forward to discovering both older and more recent classics this year.