Mrs Robinson’s Disgrace – Kate Summerscale

In the same style as her excellent ‘The Suspicions of Mr Whicher’, Kate Summerscale here reveals another Victorian scandal in the downfall of Isabella Robinson.

From about 1852 to 1856 Mrs Robinson, an intelligent and articulate woman who moved in upper middle class, radical society, maintained a secret diary. In it she recorded not so much her comings and goings but her thoughts, opinions and more crucially her amorous musings and encounters.

The latter rarely involved her husband Henry, who was often away on business, was cold towards her, and kept a mistress. Who they increasingly, but not exclusively, involved was Dr Edward Lane, a family friend and a married man.

Henry’s discovery of the diary in 1856 led him, in 1858, to be one of the first to take advantage of the recently passed Divorce Act (1857) and the new Court of Matrimonial Proceedings to seek a divorce (previously only obtainable through a prohibitively expensive application to Parliament).

The ensuing case became a cause celebre, bringing into sharp focus the unenviable status of a married woman in mid-Victorian Britain, or more accurately her lack of status, being a mere chattel of her husband. The great and the good debated her case. Did she actually commit adultery with Dr Lane, or did her diary record wishful thinking, or even delusions brought on by her sexual frustration.

Around the central narrative of the “affair” and the court proceedings Summerscale constructs a fascinating picture of society at a point where many established views were being challenged by new radical thinkers – scientists like Charles Darwin, authors such as Marian Evans & Charles Dickens, and marginal medical practitioners such as phrenologist George Combe – and when the issue of a woman’s right to an independent life began to be considered.

Reading Challenge 2015

No review this week as I am working through some lengthy tomes at present. But instead this 150^th post will share thoughts on the Popsugar 2015 Reading Challenge.

Although nominally the challenge is to read 50 books (52 really as one has to be a trilogy) it is actually a list of 50 characteristics to tick off. And as most books will satisfy several criteria it should be possible, within my normal reading pattern, to cover most bases. We shall see.

In fact, thirteen books into the new year, seventeen boxes can already be checked off, some multiple times, as I have no problem with ‘nonfiction’, ‘set in a different country’, ‘female author’ or ‘translated from another language’.

Looking at the rest of the list I foresee difficulties stumbling over a book by an author with my initials, or one published in my year of birth. Also a graphic novel and one featuring non-human characters will stretch my normal literary parameters, but then that is the whole point.

And the final box – a book started but never finished – means that Moby Dick could raise his head once more.

The Railway Man – Eric Lomax

As a boy growing up in Edinburgh, Eric Lomax developed a love of trams and then trains. The interest was maintained as a young man but he wouldn’t have guessed just how big a part a railway was to play in the rest of his life.

Having left school to become a telegraphist with the post office, the natural progression at the outbreak of the second world war was to enlist in the Royal Corps of Signals. Deployed to the eastern theatre he ended up in Singapore just in time for its mass surrender to the Japanese army.

As a PoW with technical knowhow he was put to work, along with similarly skilled colleagues, in the repair sheds, maintaining (as badly as possible) the equipment used to build the notorious Burma - Siam railway. This group’s relatively privileged position came to an abrupt halt with the discovery of their homemade radio receiver and Lomax’s hand drawn map of the projected railway route.

The Japanese response is no less horrific to the reader for being predictable from the likes of ‘Bridge Over the River Kwai’ and ‘Unbroken’. Lomax relates the torture and brutality, and his stubborn resistance without hyperbole; the drama and pathos self-evident.

His trauma does not end with liberation; for three and a half decades he is haunted by his experiences and it is only after meeting (on a train) his second wife-to-be that he can, with her encouragement and support, begin to come to terms with them.

And when he discovers that one of those involved in his interrogation is alive and is now an activist for reconciliation, he resolves to go and confront the man and test how sincere is his professed remorse.

It is a compulsive, powerful read, highly recommended.

The Trumpet Major – Thomas Hardy

The trumpet major is John Loveday, but the central character here is Anne Garland who lives with her widowed mother adjacent to Loveday’s father’s mill in Overcombe.

It is early in the nineteenth century, and with Bonaparte poised across the Channel this part of England has become a military camp, and John Loveday’ return with his unit gives him a chance to renew relations with Anne, and to realise his childhood friend is now an attractive young woman.

He is not the only one to notice Anne’s charms. The socially superior but boorishly mannered Festus Derriman also has designs on Miss Garland, which he pursues with brutish persistence. Anne is flattered but not thrilled by either advance. She holds a torch for John’s brother Robert, long since gone to sea.

Preparation for war brings Robert home; but with a woman in tow this further complicates matters for Anne; and from then on the juggling of suitors gets serious with lots of opportunity for honourable sacrifice and devious dealings. The outcome remains in doubt to the very end.

This is Hardy in unfamiliar light-hearted mood, with none of the doom and gloom of Tess and Jude. Instead he directs his keen observation of human nature to romance and the pursuit of happiness.

The historical context is interesting and the characters are engaging in their imperfection, making for a decent read.

A Mini Adventure – Martin Wainwright

Witten in 2009 to celebrate 50 years of the iconic small car, this appropriately small, chunky book surveys all things mini.

While the narrative moves chronologically through the inspirational birth, troubled launch, technical challenges, unexpected market success, to the final achievement as cool icon, Wainwright brings in other strands to vary and broaden the story.

He visits current enthusiast rallies to garner anecdotes and talks to old engineers and production line staff to get the inside stories. The mini’s wide cultural influences also get a good airing, including but by no means limited to Mr Bean (TV), The Italian Job (film), Damien Hirst’s spotty mini (art) and John Betjeman’s “Meditation on the A30” (poetry).

Sport is represented from the sublime (Monte Carlo Rally success) to the ridiculous (mini-cramming, with the record at time of publication being 21 lithe female Malaysian students). And of course the celebrity involvement, which turned out so important for the brand image, is covered in pictures and words, ranging from the comedic (Kate Moss’s parking attempts) to the tragic (Marc Bolan’s death).

But for me it is the engineering and business development that gives the book meaning. The role of designer Alec Issigonis is well known, as is John Cooper’s involvement in souping up the engine; less so is the importance of engineer Bill Cull’s revolutionary constant velocity joint. The book also cleared up my (understandable) confusion over the Austin and Morris marques, not to mention how the Wolseley Hornet and Riley Elf fit into the picture.

Anyone who has had a mini will find much to smile about, and a rich fund of fascinating facts to drop into conversations whenever (and it is surprisingly often) the mini gets mentioned.

Death and the Penguin – Andrey Kurkov

In post-soviet Ukraine, aspiring writer Viktor Zolotaryov lives alone with a penguin named Misha, acquired when the local zoo gave away animals it could no longer afford to keep. Although he can’t sell a story, Viktor is offered  job writing obituaries with a difference – not only are the subjects not yet dead, what he writes must include certain specified insinuations. Still, the pay is good even if he can’t claim credit - another condition being his anonymity as author.

Viktor finds his social circle expanding (the penguin is a bit of a draw), but while his sense of loneliness decreases a sense of foreboding grows as deaths start to occur both in his stock of obituaries and in his new pool of acquaintances. However the funerals of the great (if not the good) do provide a new line in the business of death, with Misha’s attendance at the graveside becoming fashionable (and remunerative).

Viktor and Misha are clearly on the periphery of a criminal world, seemingly safe enough - until his anonymity is threatened.

The book is shot through with black humour as life in the ex-soviet republic is spelled out in all its bleakness, physically decaying and morally corrupt. It is also about loneliness, with more than the penguin seeming at odds with their surroundings.

The style is spare, as befits the context, but never dull, making for a good short read, with a title that is strange, but completely apt.

Here and Now – Paul Auster and JM Coetzee

Not a collaboration from these well-respected authors, but a conversation conducted by correspondence over a three year period from July 2008 to August 2011.

Although touching on world events (the financial meltdown, Arab – Israeli relations, FIFA world cup, the Arab spring) the letters mainly exchange and compare ideas and views on more commonplace aspects of life. One of them will introduce a topic – why waste so much time watching sport on TV – which is discussed over a few letters, during which time the other will open up a new area - the cultural significance of names – and so it goes on.

Politics, history, travel, cinema and of course literature – what they are writing and reading, and what the critics are saying - all feature, but whatever the subject the views are fresh, interesting, and expressed concisely with wit and style.

Possibly due to their age and left-leaning politics (I am not far behind in both) I was in tune with most of what they had to say to each other. But this is not two grumpy old men whinging at the modern world. Yes they have regrets and reservations (the comment of the world going to hell in a hand-basket starts a whole new topic – about hand-baskets) but they have the wisdom to accept change happens and the humility to admit their point of view is just that.

A short and stimulating read.