4. “Soul Identity“
A lightweight book but enjoyable with the hero trying to track down the baddies on behalf of a client. Some interesting thoughts on the reincarnation of one’s soul too. There is a sequel but, as I would have to pay for it, I don’t think I’ll bother!
5. “Jacob’s Room” by Virginia Wolfe (published 1922)
I tried Virginia only once before and found her very heavy going. But I persisted this time and her descriptive language is so beautiful that it was well worth it despite my having to dig deep to follow the plot, such as it was, and the passage of time! I made full use of the Kindle’s ability to mark passages – as you can see, I’m really enjoying my new toy!
How I agree with Jacob here! I believe that we should all follow the sticks and stones maxim and stop getting so uptight about mere words. This comes from someone who is often told off for using words which were OK when she was young but are wrong now – it is so difficult to keep track!
“Professor Bulteel, of Leeds, had issued an edition of Wycherley without stating that he had left out, disembowelled, or indicated only by asterisks, several indecent words and some indecent phrases. An outrage, Jacob said; a breach of faith; sheer prudery; token of a lewd mind and a disgusting nature.”And this is a brilliant sex scene – many would have stopped after the first sentence, but not Virginia! Florinda has called in to see Jacob Flanders and there is an unopened letter from his mother lying on the table:
“They shut the bedroom door behind them. The sitting-room neither knew nor cared. The door was shut; and to suppose that wood, when it creaks, transmits anything save that rats are busy and wood dry is childish. These old houses are only brick and wood, soaked in human sweat, grained with human dirt. But if the pale blue envelope lying by the biscuit-box had the feelings of a mother, the heart was torn by the little creak, the sudden stir. Behind the door was the obscene thing, the alarming presence, and terror would come over her as at death, or the birth of a child. Better, perhaps, burst in and face it than sit in the antechamber listening to the little creak, the sudden stir, for her heart was swollen, and pain threaded it. My son, my son – such would be her cry, uttered to hide her vision of him stretched with Florinda, inexcusable, irrational, in a woman with three children living at Scarborough. And the fault lay with Florinda. Indeed, when the door opened and the couple came out, Mrs. Flanders would have flounced upon her – only it was Jacob who came first, in his dressing-gown, amiable, authoritative, beautifully healthy, like a baby after an airing, with an eye clear as running water. Florinda followed, lazily stretching, yawning a little; arranging her hair at the looking-glass – while Jacob read his mother’s letter.”
6. “Lady Audley’s Secret“
I hadn’t heard of Miss Braddon or Lady Audley – yes, I know, where have I been? But I didn’t look them up until I’d finished although it was clear that she was writing in the 1800s from the quaint spelling of clew and sha’n't. And I was just thinking I should say that the story is worthy of Wilkie Collins when she mentioned him herself in the narrative. His “The Woman in White“
“He forgot that there are men who go their ways unscathed amidst legions of lovely and generous women, to succumb at last before some harsh-featured virago, who knows the secret of that only philter which can intoxicate and bewitch him. He had forgot that there are certain Jacks who go through life without meeting the Jill appointed for them by Nemesis, and die old bachelors, perhaps, with poor Jill pining an old maid upon the other side of the party-wall. He forgot that love, which is a madness, and a scourge, and a fever, and a delusion, and a snare, is also a mystery, and very imperfectly understood by everyone except the individual sufferer who writhes under its tortures. Jones, who is wildly enamored of Miss Brown, and who lies awake at night until he loathes his comfortable pillow and tumbles his sheets into two twisted rags of linen in his agonies, as if he were a prisoner and wanted to wind them into impromptu ropes; this same Jones who thinks Russell Square a magic place because his divinity inhabits it, who thinks the trees in that inclosure and the sky above it greener and bluer than other trees or sky, and who feels a pang, yes, an actual pang, of mingled hope, and joy, and expectation, and terror, when he emerges from Guilford street, descending from the hights of Islington, into those sacred precincts; this very Jones is hard and callous toward the torments of Smith, who adores Miss Robinson, and cannot imagine what the infatuated fellow can see in the girl.”
and I loved it (don’t the Americans know how to cut paperbacks neatly?), as I did his “
The latter left me marvelling at the contrast between the two and I so related to his main character, ex-agoraphobic that I am – still leaning that way, when stressed! I’m told he has a new book out and if it is another novel then it is at the top of my wish list.
having heard it recommended but I was glad to finish it. The storyline was OK but the writing bad, I thought. However, I very much enjoyed “
by Rupert Thomson and sent a copy of it to a friend when he was in hospital.
Although I’m hoping to recoup this expense on 25 December – plus have some left over to pay for one or two books – I’m starting by exploring the lists of free ones. I am now onto my fourth one – not bad in three days but two were very short – and the first three, which were all free, are:
by Ambrose Bierce (1842–1914)
by Bret Harte (1839–1902)
by Cybill Shepherd & Aimee Lee Ball (published 2000)
and 
which are notable exceptions, in my view! Until this week, all I knew about Cybill was her appearances in “Moonlighting” and “Cybill” and I hadn’t noticed her in any films although I know I’ve seen a couple of them. However, I stuck with her to the end of the book but I’m left thinking that I’d rather not have known what was going on in the background amongst those seemingly happy cast members, thank you! Sorry Cybill, it’s nothing personal. In fact, I’ve ended up rather liking you!
That was in 2007 and, by reading it straight through in almost one sitting, it really showed me how much my left eye had deteriorated!
and downloaded it to my laptop, I’ve been able to get started.