November fields and recent reading

Fire in the Blood, by Irène Némirovsky, felt too short – perhaps the author might have added more to flesh out the increasingly dramatic plot if she had had time before she died at Auschwitz.

This novel is about lust and disillusionment among the pragmatic French farming community - lust among the young and fiery, and disillusionment for the old and chilled. Even the perfect marriage of Colette’s parents was shown to be founded on a lack of candour by Helène, her mother. One thing that struck me was the assertion that women have many persona - that, for example, a wife acting unfaithfully was actually a different person. Presumably the author thought this of men too, but this is a book written by a woman of 40 from the perspective of a dry and cynical old man. So, an interesting novel about youthful fire, young women sacrificed to old men, married warmth, old bachelor cold, and, above all, secrets. Plenty of food for thought and discussion.

In contrast, The Diary of a Provincial Lady, by E.M. Delafield, was all jolly and above board. I’m probably the only person who hasn’t read it, but I’m glad I did. As the Times said, 'She converts the small and familiar dullness of life into laughter'. I was amused by her worries about money along side her worries about her large staff, including Mademoiselle, the parlour maid and the Cook (who couldn’t).

Currently re-reading an old classic, Experiences of an Irish RM, by Somerville and Ross (1899). I find myself laughing aloud but maybe that’s because I spent part of my childhood among horsey Irish people. We must have been abroad when the TV series was on – didn’t even know they’d made one. I wonder if they captured its dry but kindly humour.