Another month gone in a flash. Didn't get out much this time around—back problems made standing in galleries for two hours feel like torture, same with sitting through three-hour theater performances. So my cultural life took a hit, but I still managed a few things worth mentioning.
"I have dreamed of your face every night and walked the streets every day to the rhythm of your letters singing in my silent mind. I called you my Muse, and indeed you are, or might be—a messenger from some distant place..." A literary detective story wrapped in Victorian poetry and modern academia. Two researchers hunting down a hidden love affair between two poets.
"What's the point of living in the suburbs if you can't show a healthy curiosity about your neighbors?" An anthropology institute in London, complete with professors, a secretary, and students from every background. Early 1950s England meets the study of human behavior. Pym turns her sharp eye on the anthropologists themselves.
"Her acute awareness of life's harshness led her to believe that all happiness would be torn from her if she exposed her deepest feelings. Solitude wasn't too high a price to pay." Personal philosophy built on keeping everyone at arm's length. A remote Scottish island. A woman who won't let anyone in.
Didn't plan to reread this for English Month, but I had to watch the BBC adaptation. After watching the series, I couldn't resist diving back into the novel to compare. Industrial North versus genteel South. Class conflict. A heroine who has opinions and isn't afraid to voice them.
Today this little blog turns eight years old. Happy birthday to it. Thanks to everyone who stops by—whether by accident, habit, or intention. The quiet readers and the chatty ones. The familiar names and the anonymous clicks. Hope I occasionally light up your reading life the way you've brightened mine.
On her twenty-first birthday, while hosting a ball, Lady Windermere learns her husband has been visiting a woman with a terrible reputation. Regularly. And apparently giving her money. Victorian society drama meets Wilde's signature wit. Secrets, scandals, and the famous fan.
"Lucy loved Cecil; George made her nervous; will the reader be good enough to invite her to reverse the terms?" During a trip to Italy, Lucy meets a young man who unsettles her. He's not quite "proper" by English standards. But there's something about him. Edwardian manners versus genuine feeling.
Probably the novel I've read and reread the most (along with Pride and Prejudice). Even knowing every twist by heart, the pleasure never fades. Still turning pages frantically. Still holding my breath. Manderley. Mrs. Danvers. The first wife who haunts everything. Pure gothic perfection.
Long poem based on Arthurian legend. The Lady of Shalott is cursed to live in a tower without looking out the window—or face doom. She only sees the world through a mirror. Weaving what she sees. Until Lancelot rides by. Pre-Raphaelite painters loved this one.