It's been an emotional week. I've decided it's time to move out of the parental home - I moved back in when finishing my MA back in 2007, and I suddenly feel like it's the right time. I've been to look at quite a few places, and found a couple I liked. One in particular was great, apart from the fact I would be sharing with three guys. Now; don't get me wrong - there's nothing wrong with guys per se (and these were all lovely, tidy and old enough not to behave like idiots all the time) but it's not something I've ever done. Lots of soul searching was required.
Today, I finally made up my mind that this was the right move, and emailed them to say so. A couple of hours ago I had an email back saying that the girl that was moving out had changed her mind for the time being. So it's back to the drawing board. Heigh ho, these things happen, and at least I've not signed the contract or am all packed up and ready to go!
Throughout this week, I have been reading a lot to take my mind off things, and have been luxuriating in the wonder that is Susan Hill. 'Howards End is on the Landing' has made it to my house and has been making its presence felt.
The cover is enough to comfort, let alone what can be found inside.
So - what does this book have to tell you? Firstly, it's a tremendous explanation as to why Susan Hill disappeared from the web over a year ago. I noticed around June last year that the link to the left of this post that had led to Susan's blog, now led to nothing. I hoped it was a glitch but nothing ever surfaced.
Susan had, apparently, gone on a search for a book, and although she'd not found it, she did discover an awful lot of books she had either not read at all, or not read in a very long time. If there's one thing I can relate to, it's that! My shelves are crammed with books I've bought, but not read.
We are taken on a tour, not only of Susans' house, but also her life, peppered as it is with encounters with some of the best known names of the twentieth century. It's a charming book, full of recommendations that are made with fervour and a keen insight. I found myself almost able to understand her dislike of Austen (Susan, I'm a Janeite and I hate 'Mansfield Park' and 'Northanger Abbey'!!), and discovered a hunger to get back into Grahame Green, Thomas Hardy, Dickens, and all those other classics that are languishing on my shelves. I've been introduced to a lot of authors I've never heard of (and even found myself whilst up in London last weekend pondering whether I should buy a book she had passionately talked about ... I put it back. If Susan has taught me anything, it is that one should read the books one has!)
Simon and I are going to hear her talk later in November, so I'm sure this book will pop up another time. I could relate to the subject matter, and Susan, so much, that it almost makes me want to rush up to her at the event and proclaim affinity (as well as a passion for 'The Lady of Shallot'). This would probably end up being my equivalent of her experience with Edith Sitwell. Not a good plan!
Anyway, it's a lovely little book, with plenty to make one think. At the end, she lists the 40 books that she would choose if she could only have have 40 to last her the rest of her life. The fact that 'Learning to Dance' by Michael Mayne is listed twice is perhaps testament to the fact that she really cannot live without that book. (Only it's actually a misprint ... but like she says, it gives her room to tinker with the list!).
Susan Hill's copy of 'Howards End' is on the landing .... where is yours? (Mine is in the spare bedroom!
POW!
So sorry - that was the sound my mind made last night as Fiona Shaw blew it away with the sheer force of her performance.
So Bertolt Brecht - what do people think of him? I know what I thought before last night - heavy going, hard to get to grips with in a modern era. Boring. Why then, you would be entitled to ask, did I want to go and see 'Mother Courage and her Children'? Quite simply because it was Fiona Shaw in the title role, and Deborah Warner directing her (who has also directed her in 'Medea' (which I tragically missed) and the film of 'The Last September', which I adore.). I could put up with anything with that combination.
From the moment I sat down in my seat, however - which had members of the cast roaming around, and stage hands doing various things with ropes and other stuff - I knew I was in for a treat. Then it started. A few minutes into the first scene and Fiona Shaw rises from the depths of the stage, on top of her wagon, accompanied by a band. Duke Special to be precise. Actually - type Fiona Shaw into Youtube right now, and the first five entries or so are videos of her jamming with said band after the show in the foyer of the National. The band are fantastic, and there is something weirdly right about wanting to get up and dance around as Fiona Shaw flings herself across the stage.
Anyway - back to Mother Courage. I never knew Brecht could be funny, but he is, and in an oddly resonant way for the world today. Yes, he's writing about a war in Germany in the mid 1600s, but he could just as easily be writing for the war that's going on now. This production hits you full in the face with the brutality of war, there are explosions, and bursts of fire, and Mother Courage's wagon grows and shrinks as her business succeeds and fails (at one point there is a satellite dish strapped to it).
Fiona Shaw is hardly ever off stage. Even if she's not speaking, she's always doing something - plucking a chicken and making a right mess, being one of the most memorable pieces of business. The supporting cast are fantastic - Harry Melling plays her youngest son Swiss Cheese, and if the name rings a bell, it will be because you have seen him play Dudley Dursley. Not an obvious choice, one might think, but somebody get him more parts fast, because the guy is astonishingly good. Forget the golden Potter trio, Harry Melling might be the one to watch!
The thing about the play is that it is so blatantly opportunistic. Mother Courage changes sides with alarming ease (and loses a child in the process) but I never blamed her for it. That is what war is like, and if you're trying to make a living from an army, you're always going to end up with the winning side. Does Mother Courage win? the play ends abruptly. With all her children gone, and left to trail after a battered company, with her wagon at it's most broken and only herself to pull it, you'd be inclined to think she doesn't.
The whole experience is amazing. You're thrown into this messy world and never allowed a respite. If Fiona Shaw doesn't (and she's only off stage for about fifteen minutes out of a three hour production) the audience doesn't either. But however gruelling the content is, this production makes it rock.
I wasn't going to post on the new BBC adaptation of Emma for another week or so, but Simon has done so, and I got rather animated in my response to it, and the other comments, so I feel I must air my views on this latest bonnet and bodice fest.
I like Emma, although it's not my favourite Austen, but I don't think I've ever seen a truly satisfactory production. The BBC's 1972 version is terribly stuffy - Emma looks to be in her 30s (even though Doran Godwin was only 22), Mr Knightley is hopelessly old, and not remotely handsome, and it has that odd lighting quality that seems to be a feature of 70s television. The filmed version with Gwyneth Paltrow has two redeeming features: Jeremy Northam (be still my beating heart) as Mr Knightley and Sophie Thompson as Miss Bates. Stellar casting, both of them.
The new version of Jane Austen's classic started this Sunday, and I sank quite comfortably into the familar story. Interestingly, a good fifteen minutes were spent depiciting Miss Taylor's wedding to Mr Weston, when in the book the event is covered in the first three pages, so the movement into the actual story is considered in the frame of Emma's loss. After that, we are very swiftly catapulted into Emma's ridiculous matchmaking, with the inevitable problems that causes.
Casting is always an issue, and I think Romola Garai is good in the title role. She's very good in period drama (I loved her in Daniel Deronda and Vanity Fair ), but there was something lacking in her performance. Perhaps it was the slight modernity of the script, or some of her movements, but I felt jarred slightly. I am very much on the fence over Michael Gambon's performance as Mr Woodhouse. In my opinion, Gambon is a very forceful actor; one is always aware of his presence. In contrast, my view of Mr Woodhouse is rather peripheral. Just a fussy nuisance. Having said that, Gambon does have flashes of whiny genius, so perhaps there is hope.
The biggest casting decision, that seems to be dividing people all over the place is Jonny Lee Miller as Mr Knightley. Is he too young? Is he too handsome? Is he too modern? The answer to all three of these is possibly 'yes', but in actual fact Knightley was only 38, and Jonny is 37, so it's probably his slightly pretty boy looks that have got people's backs up. I have to say that the rapport he has with Emma is fantastic, if a little less brotherly than we are led to expect. It's only the first episode and he's already tearing a hole in Emma's judgement. I can't wait until the picnic (and ooh - Mrs Elton is played by Christina Cole, who played Caroline Bingley in Lost in Austen ... that should be fantastic to watch!).
I am reserving my complete judgement for a while. I like it, and think the main aspects work, but there is something I can't put my finger on that makes me think it's lacking in some way. Is it just that everyone is just a touch too modern to be properly Austenesque? I shall have to watch the second episode ... watch this space!
When the weather is like the picture above (that's a view of St Mark's square from the Grand Canal, Venice, in the biggest rain storm I've ever seen) what's the best thing to do? Yes - read.
I think October must be my favourite month to immerse myself in literature. It's so wet, and dull. No late Autumn frosts to encourage you out on a good long stomp, just the tempting sofa on which to curl up.
I've already finished four books in the last week, and my appetite is simply craving more. Here are my favourites from the past few weeks ....
The Glassblowers of Murano by Marina Fiorata
This was one of my holiday reads - indeed in painted a better picture of Venice than the one I was witness to. I honestly think I would've have been drier if I had chosen to swim up the grand canal! Anyway - the book follows the fortune of an immensely talented glass maker, and his descendant who comes to Venice to change her life, and finds more than she ever expected. It's a cleverly woven tale, and the process of glassmaking - so important to Venetian life - is wonderfully depicted.
The Information Officer by Mark Mills
I think Mark Mills' writing style is wonderful. Clear cut, but with just enough mystery around the edges to leave you wondering. I had read 'The Savage Garden' and loved it for it's Italian setting and the way it drew you in. This novel - set on the bomb ravaged island of Malta during WWII - draws you in too, but makes you feel the danger heightened by wartime activities. There were times I could almost feel the vibrations of the bombs falling. Mills is an author I would recommend to anyone, he has the universal touch.
The Forgotten Garden by Kate Morton
I think I'm a bit late coming to this particular party (but that's fashionable, right?), but I absolutely adored this book. I'm always on the look out for what my Father calls 'a ripping yarn', and I struck gold with this one. Spanning three generations, two of which are hunting for the answer to a young woman's heritage. It rattles along at a great pace, and takes some surprising turns in its quest for the answer. I love the fact that it uses fairy tales to help the plot along, and that the different voices telling the story don't drown each other out. I couldn't put it down - in fact I spent an entire evening in a pub finishing it (300 pages in 3 hours, not too bad going), which goes to prove how captivated I was.
Which leads me onto my next subject .... but that deserves a post of its own. I shall leave you with a view of Lake Garda after the weather had cheered up considerably!
I am just off for a week to Italy, and as usual I have had the heart wrending decision over what to take, book wise. However, seeing as I am leaving in a few minutes, I think I have the final list, and here is what I will be reading:
Sonnets from the Portugese - Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Footsteps - Kate McMahon
East of the Sun - Julia Gregson
The Food of Love - Anthony Cappella
Captivated - Piers Dudgeon
Roman Fever - Edith Wharton
Burning Bright - Tracy Chevallier
I think that's enough to keep me going, and at least I can't buy any books whilst on holiday - I can't read Italian.
Arrividerchi everyone!
I have heard Simon extol the virtues of 'Miss Hargreaves' so often that it often seemed to me that the book couldn't possibly hope to live up to the expectations. So when Simon offered me a copy of the newly published Bloomsbury edition, I thought I should snap it up and see what all the fuss was about.
Well, Simon has a new convert to the Hargreavean cause, because I love it. Even if it is totally insane - and maybe that's part of the charm!
The book revolves around Norman Huntley and his seeming overactive imagination. Creating a Miss Hargreaves, who travels with her Cockatoo, harp and bath, to get out of a slightly sticky social faux pas, Norman is - quite understandably - shocked to arrive home and find his creation waiting for him.
Now, I don't know about you, but my imagination is pretty fanciful at times, and I have been known to have conversations with invisible people (although they all are actual people, whether or not they are present at the time). Frank Baker's book has elements of 'The Bronte's went to Woolworths' (another Bloomsbury Group republication) although the drama is considerably heightened in Baker's novel.
Norman, you see, is not best pleased that his creation has come to life and is determined to claim friendship and thereby ruin his life, by alienating his employees and the girl he's going out with. It's not as if Norman leads a particularly sane life before Miss Hargreaves arrives - his father is quite clearly batty (although lovable for it), and the entire town seems to be a little off balance - but throw Miss H into the mix, and everything goes mad. Norman, no matter how hard he tries, can't seem to get rid of this woman, who wears outrageous hats and has a cockatoo that sings opera.
When he does manage to finally make her disappear, he regrets it at once - willing her to reappear, she does so, but so markedly different (she is now Lady Hargreaves) that Norman finds himself wishing for the chaos that went before.
Does Norman finally manage to dispel his creation, or does she stay forever to be a reminder not to take imagination too far .... I recommend reading it, but don't whisper the words 'Miss Hargreaves' to the wind too often - you might be surprised who turns up!
Before I disappear into a heady euphoria at England winning the Ashes (and after seven hours in a pub watching today, I would've have been slightly displeased had they lost, or gone onto a fifth day) I had better tell you about my day in London yesterday, when I went to see Jude Law in 'Hamlet'.
I know it's not a natural thought process - "Jude Law in 'Hamlet'" doesn't trip off the tongue like "Rufus Sewell in 'Hamlet'" might (ooh, now there's a thought), but it intrigued me enough to force me to buy tickets. I've been to see the entire Donmar West End season, which started with Kenneth Branagh in 'Ivanov', followed with Derek Jacobi in 'Twelfth Night', continued with Judi Dench in 'Madame de Sade' and concluded with 'Hamlet'. At £10 for the cheapest seats, it was well worth it, and I've had some real treats. With 'Hamlet', the biggest draw for me was the fact that Kenneth Branagh was supposed to be directing it, although he eventually pulled out to star in (and direct) 'Thor' .... odd choice.
Anyway, I persuaded my sister, Simon and a friend of his (Andrea) to come with me, and we all made our various ways to the theatre for the matinee, meeting out front about 15 minutes before curtain up. At it was the penultimate performance, there were scores of people queueing for returns (or standing seats - and yes, there were quite a few people doing that!).
I have never seen 'Hamlet' live - although I've seen plenty of film versions. I am ashamed to say I hate Laurence Olivier's performance; Mel Gibson was an odd choice (although Glenn Close as Gertrude is inspired); but of course my favourite is Kenneth Branagh's - and if you can find the four hour uncut version, it is well worth sitting in front of - if merely for the pleasure of John Gielgud and Judi Dench acting out the tragedy of Priam and Hecuba, with voice over of Charlton Heston as the Player King.
I digress. I think I have established that I had doubts about the logic of Jude Law's casting, and I have to confess that these were not entirely dispelled with his entrance. Of course, Hamlet doesn't get many lines in the first scene, and whilst talking to Claudius and Gertrude, he is too petulant to allow most actors to shine; but with the first soliloquy, I felt that this might just end up being a stellar performance. This was proved to be true when Hamlet meets the ghost of his father - that scene sent shivers down my spine. After that, the play simply flew. Those key scenes that are so important, and so familiar, were all done with impeccable timing, and helped along by the sparsity of the set.
Most of the visible stage was covered with black flagstones; about two thirds back, a great gate (like a front gate to a castle) was positioned on rollers, to be moved back and forth, so it could reveal or hide parts of the action. One door in the middle of the gate, and one either side, served to allow people from the 'outside' to enter. There were very few seats used throughout (five, I think in all, and those only in three scenes), and practically no backdrops. The beginning of Gertrude's confrontation scene with Hamlet was cleverly done, because instead of Polonius being hidden at the back of the stage, the arras was brought down front stage, so that Hamlet and Gertrude were hidden from view, and the audience had a clear view of Polonius listening in. When Hamlet stabbed him, he brought down the curtain in his death throes, and revealed the scene to the audience.
Now. This scene of Gertrude's is my favourite, because I love how it becomes the turning point for her, and her view of the whole situation, and in my view it's done best with little weeping. This wasn't the case here, and unfortunately (forgive me Simon) Penelope Wilton almost ruined it with an overly hysterical performance. However, when she got to the line 'Oh Hamlet, thou hast cleft my heart in twain', her whole manner dropped like a stone, and never was there a quieter and beautiful performance. Except perhaps for this one.
And again, I digress - it's getting late, sorry readers. So, they all died. And died very well in their various poisoned states; Fortinbras came in, claimed the kingdom, the curtain went down (stayed down for a while longer than usual, to give everyone time to get off the floor) and then rose to rapturous applause. Which went on and on, and there were lots of bows, although only two curtain calls (why, nowadays, are there only two curtain calls? What happens if there was a play, the best ever seen, and people were bowled over so much they just went on clapping, even after the lights were put up? Would there be more curtain calls, or just lonely people clapping? It's something that puzzles me).
So it ended, and an obvious trip to the stage door was agreed upon. Having got there, we found a crowd, in a neat (but expanding) semi circle. 'Is there a barrier?' my sister wondered. No - just good old fashioned British respect .... even though half the waiting people weren't English at all. Kevin McNally came out, as did Penelope Wilton; we were reliably informed that Jude Law never came out between shows (although I bet he sneaks out of a different entrance occasionally), Peter Eyre came out and hung around a while, and Fenella Fielding plus suitcase waited at the stage door for someone (and the person next to me said she is married to one of the actors, although I can't work out who!!!), and Anita Dobson went past on her way into the Noel Coward theatre, which is showing Calendar Girls. Starry eyes indeed!
So there we are - Jude Law's 'Hamlet', a success, methinks, even with its errors, and one worthy of being entered into the halls of fame. I'm always jealous of my father when he says he's seen something that was put on before I was born (Laurence Olivier and Maggie Smith's 'Othello' being one of them). Perhaps people in years to come will be jealous of this!!!
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One more thing, which I am slightly apprehensive of putting here, lest it be lost in my enthusiastic write up of 'Hamlet', and that is a piece of news about a book I loved, and which has been talked about all over the blogosphere. 'The Spare Room' by Helen Garner is to be adapted for the London stage by Eileen Atkins and will star Eileen herself and Vanessa Redgrave. Look out for it in 2010 - I know I'll be getting tickets!!!
I've never been a 'dedicated follower of fashion'. I know what I like, and what looks good on me, but because I don't have the figure equivalent to a pencil, I've never been one to fawn over the fashion parade.
There's something different about Chanel though, and I think it's partly to do with the woman behind the creations. The mystery of her, and how she was so different from the other women of her time.
Tonight I went to see 'Coco Avant Chanel', which seems to be kicking of a great Coco fest - there are at least two more films, a biography, and another book from none other than Justine Picardie (she of my 'Daphne' inspired raves). Justine is keeping her cards very close to her chest, but if the passages in 'My Mother's Wedding Dress' are anything to go by, it should be fascinating to say the least.
Sorry - where was I?
I don't want to talk too much about the plot - as the title would suggest, the film focuses on the early period of Chanel's life, before she became a renowned designer. I think I'm developing a passion for French film - there is a simplicity to the dialogue and cinematography that seems to be lacking in most 'blockbusters' at the moment. Audrey Tautou captures the fragility of the young woman, yet also manages to portray the fire that drove her to reach for what she wanted, and not settle for what she was offered. The supporting cast are all well chosen too - I've not heard of any of them, but none of them detracts from what the story is trying to tell you. Costumes, are of course, key; and it's wonderful to contrast the plainly dressed Coco with the opulence that characterised the late Victorian and early Edwardian eras.
The final scene is almost a piece of iconic history. Coco Chanel was (I think) well known for watching her creations go out during shows from the curve in the staircase. When Katharine Hepburn starred in a musical about the woman, she recreated this pose, and now it has come full circle, with Audrey Tautou sitting, in the final shot, on a staircase, whilst her clothes waft past her. That's the way icons are remembered, and this film deserves all the audience it can get. It's like the person it portrays. Simple. And chic.
The cover is enough to comfort, let alone what can be found inside.
