The Two Mrs Abbotts

Ever put down Miss Buncle Married and wondered what our old friend Barbara is up to now? I mean, it’s Barbara Buncle Abbott we’re talking about. She must have been up to delicious adventures…

Well, there is a third book in the Miss Buncle series, The Two Mrs Abbotts. Unless you had a very good library system or the luck of the gods at a used bookstore then you had to wonder. Luckily, the local library system was able to unearth The Two Mrs Abbotts but I was only able to get my little undead raccoon hands on it after Sourcebooks Landmark re-issued The Two Mrs Abbotts in trade paperback last month… <sigh>

When you first pick up The Two Mrs Abbotts, you might be tempted to shriek “Oh my gods! There’s two of them!?!?!?!”. Calm down. Of course there’s two Mrs Abbotts. Barbara married to the successful publisher Arthur Abbott and Jerry married to Arthur Abbott’s nephew Sam. Remember? Sam fell head over heels for Jerry in Miss Buncle Married. When we re-discovered our friends, it’s World War II and out of all the houses to host Sarah Walker (the doctor’s wife and who Silverstream thought was John Smith in Miss Buncle’s Book) during a Red Cross talk is the comfortable Abbott home. Sarah sees a picture and figures out her Red Cross talk hostess is the former Barbara Buncle in less time than it takes me to devour an Aero classic chocolate (seconds) while the former Barbara Buncle is her usual delightful confused self and almost needs a diagram to figure everything out. Arthur hasn’t been called up but his nephew Sam is in the army leaving his wife Jerry to batch it at their Elizabethan home.

Now let me address one of the most common complaints about The Two Mrs Abbotts. There are two major ones but I’ll address that later. The most common complaint and one that seems to have people scarlet is, for the book being called The Two Mrs Abbotts, you sure don’t get much of the senior Mrs Abbott (Barbara). This might make a devoted Barbara Buncle follower stop reading this post and declare me a total savage but I actually like getting Barbara Buncle Abbott in small doses. Her presence provides a support or frame for overall story but I don’t need it to be all Barbara all the time. The opening scene chez Abbott with Sarah Walker is delightful even though the Abbott children are just a bit too twee for my tastes. Even the best of the Miss Buncle books, Miss Buncle’s Book, is strongest when Barbara isn’t front and center. Barbara is like the almond extract in my favorite Lindt truffles, a few drops go a long, long way. Full on Barbara would be like licking the almond extract spoon when I make almond crescents. Gross and overwhelming.

But back to the goings on in war time Wandlebury. While life with the senior Abbotts doesn’t seem to be that much affected by the war, unless you count Arthur Abbott having Janetta Walters as an author with his publishing company. Given his reaction to her offerings, romances, I kept wondering if D.E. Stevenson was a having a poke at Georgette Heyer or Angela Thirkell. If she was parodying Georgette Heyer, that’s a laugh because you know how I thought the will plot in Miss Buncle Married was quite Georgette Heyer mystery-ish and had to double check to make sure I was reading D.E. Stevenson. Or I could just being having one of my Crazy Literary Theories. Why so mad about poor Janetta Walters, hmm Arthur?

Things are much different for the other Mrs Abbott. Sam’s off at war, and Jerry doesn’t have two darling moppets in her nursery being tended by Markie. Jerry and Markie are dealing with the stomp stomp stomp of combat boots from the local military camp that have turned Jerry’s kitchen into their clubhouse. And instead of trying to give Cook orders for dinner, Jerry is trying to keep an eye on her loathsome evacuees in the cottage down the way. Mama Evacuee is a blowsy bish who longs to go back home more than I longed for her to be off the page. D.E. Stevenson seems to “care” for evacuees as much as Angela Thirkell does. Then again in these ladies novels, horses and dogs always come off better than the lowest classes.

Mama Evacuee goes back to her sluttish lair dragged her spawn with her and before Markie can get the evacuee stink out of the cottage, evacuee spawn Elmie (government name Wilhelmina) is back and wants to better her life. And Jerry gets a paying guest Jane who has the most unflattering mannish haircut and no clue about housework. While Jerry tries to puzzle out Jane and see if she would make a good wife candidate for her brother Archie, the cottage gets the right kind of tenant, Colonel Melton from the military camp and his doting daughter Melanie.

Jerry wonders if Melanie should be in the running for Archie. But Archie has his own ideas and we find out Jane is actually the author Janetta Walters. I’m not sure if it’s because my main complaint about The Two Mrs Abbotts (in short…the book is too damn short and the plot is letting hanging in too many places) but even my stuffed Beanie Baby sized Minecraft Creeper figured out Jane=Janetta Walters. But I’ll forgive D.E. Stevenson for not making it harder to figure this out because she does give the reader a little plot straight out of the best Nancy Drew stories.

There are rumors of a spy lurking around Wandlebury. The military camp is on high alert and at one point thinks Elmie/Wilhelmina’s father on a mission to drag her back to their slum home is the spy. If the Germans did manage to invade? Mr Boles (Elmie/Wilhelmina’s father) is the exact sort that would be dealing with the Germans or on the black market. In my head? Mr Boles is Steve Buscemi at his most rough and weaselly.

Then one day on a walk, Markie, who is deaf but not stupid in the least even though she will not go to the damn doctor and find out if she has cancer or not already, stumbles across a man sleeping in the words. Markie takes one look at him, decides he’s German by the shape of his head, snatches up his gun and leads the military camp to him. Everyone is all “ohhh silly Markie” and then our sleepy hottie (played in my head by a blonde Michael Fassbender) wakes up and speaks in German. Markie is all “don’t be scared, and no sudden moves because we’re got your gun. I’m not kidding”. And then everyone is all “Damn…you go Markie!” Nancy Drew could not have done it better. Wait, Nancy Drew would have used her handkerchief, her spare handkerchiefs and her leather belt wrapped around her slender waist to tie up the “sleeping hottie”.

Now to my main complaint with The Two Mrs Abbotts. This book is much too short!!! The plot needs, no demands, at least 75 more pages to finish everything properly. There is one part where we see what the war is like for Sam, in his eyes and BAMMM! We’re back in Wandlebury and never see him again. I wanted more about Helen (Jane’s sister) taking over as Janetta Walters. I wanted to see if the creepy vibe I got from Colonel Melton and Melanie was just my fevered imagination and if Lancastre  Marvell could snake her away from Daddy Dearest. An abrupt ending like the one in The Two Mrs Abbotts is all fine and good for an Angela Thirkell novel since she churned out her Barsetshire series forever and a day. But unless you’re doing an epic and never ending series? Don’t do this. Seriously. Either write the book long enough to finish things off or don’t bother if it’s a one off. Then again? Didn’t I have the same it ended to damn soon problem with D.E. Stevenson’s Celia’s House? Feeling the book I was reading felt like a warmup or first half of a novel versus a whole novel.

The Two Mrs Abbotts is certainly worth reading even if the blasted thing is much too short. D.E. Stevenson captures certain wartime experiences to a t like when the Wandleburyrites marvel over an egg. Yes, the same things you can snap up for $1.49 a dozen at Aldis. But remember, in World War II England? Even in the country,  fresh eggs were like gold. And there were recipes even more gag worthy floating around than the cake the ladies make at Jerry’s or Markie’s recipe for macaroni cheese. I would not recommend reading The Two Mrs Abbotts as a standalone book because you truly need to have the other two Miss Buncle novels under your belt to get the best out of a much too short novel.

The Sequel Question

So I’m at the Berlin Peck Memorial Library ongoing book sale, scouring the hardcover fiction section for treasures. And on the shelf under the L’s is Rae Lawrence’s Jacqueline Susann’s Shadow of the Dolls in pristine condition for $1.00. And I snatched it off the shelf and raced over to add it to the towering stack of treasure right on top of Stephen King and Peter Straub’s Black House. And it wasn’t until I was stuck in traffic on the way home I wondered why I bought those things. And realized it was only because they were sequels to books I truly adored.

The question I really should have asked myself standing in the hardcover fiction section is this. Are sequels necessary?

I can remember too many books that seemed to be nothing more than money grabs from a deceased author’s estate (Rae Lawrence’s Jacqueline Susann’s Shadow of the Dolls, Alexandra Ripley’s Scarlett, the V.C. Andrews ghostwritten series, etc). Now I fully admit to being one of those people who bought into the hype back in 1991 and begged my parents to buy Scarlett for my nineteenth birthday even though I knew they had already bought me Stephen King’s Needful Things. And I doubt my parents had even left campus before I was curled up on my bed tearing into Scarlett. Yes, I had a brand new Stephen King novel and decided Scarlett was the must read. But by the time Scarlett hits Ireland I was wondering if I had wasted my parents hard earned money. And was certain I had when I finished Scarlett at 1 am and went to sleep.

Perhaps the reading public felt the same way because I can’t seem to go to a book sale or visit the book section at Savers without seeing at least one copy of Scarlett lurking. Need a book or two to raise your computer monitor? For some crazy craft project like the book pumpkin atrocity I saw displayed at a library this week? Scarlett or any of the above will do just nicely.

And what about sequels that are amazing in theory, because your favorite author is revisiting Character X or Universe 123 and “ZOMG how can I get my hands on this” and the utter letdown when you start reading and you wonder why you were so excited in the first place (I’m looking at you MaddAddam). I’ve read Stephen King’s The Talisman so many times I could have flipped over to the Territories myself but the followup Black House lost me before Tyler Marshall got taken. Buying my own copy at the library sale? I’m only going to revisit Black House due to one of my patented Gwen’s Crazy Literary Theories. But for every Black House and MaddAddam, there are sequels so good you keep re-reading them over and over.

I think there are some books which need sequels. These are the books that leave you asking questions when you close the covers. Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake is an excellent example. Finishing it for the first time, I could not wait to plunge back in that world and it seemed an eternity until The Year of the Flood was in my hands and some of my questions could be answered. Another type of book that demands a sequel? The ongoing series which reveals one more part of an expanded universe with each new book. Sure I could read just one of Lauren Willig’s Napoleonic-era spy books since the spy story is usually girl becomes part of spy plot/has amazing sex/marries the hunk but the modern story being spooned out in each book keeps me coming back for more.

Other books? Well, a book that wraps up a theme or story completely doesn’t need a sequel. I’ve never been tempted to reads the bazillions of Jane Austen “sequels” that spring up like mushrooms (I’m looking at you Pride and Prejudice sequels) cluttering the new fiction shelves at the library because Jane Austen has summed up those characters in their little worlds enough that I’m perfectly content leaving Lizzie and Darcy to their unseen future. As much as I puzzle over Barbara Vine’s A Dark-Adapted Eye, changing my mind over who is Jamie’s mother with each reading, I would recoil in horror if Ruth Rendell put on her Barbara Vine hat and cranked out a sequel. The little world of Vera and Eden ending with their deaths is self-contained.

Another point to consider is this. Is your character fascinating enough to warrant another entire book? Take a character like Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones. Her bumbling adventures and quirky little diary of her trials and tribulations was great fun in Bridget Jones’s Diary. And then along came Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason. Our Bridget wasn’t as charming and the story felt forced and flat. I wanted to keep in touch with Bridget but more “friends on Facebook” versus the full book treatment. Maybe Wendy Holden has the best solution. Her first book, Simply Divine, introduces Champagne D’Vyne, the IT girl with the tits who goes through more men than Blacklight goes through Kleenex pocket packs during an allergy flare-up. Champagne is rather a cartoon but she does capture your attention. She pops up in later books wrecking havoc on rock stars and A list movie actors and just when you’re sick of seeing her (i.e. Gossip Hound), Wendy Holden is clever enough to stop using Champagne as a supporting villian/plot twist in each book. The next time we here about Ms D’Vyne is look quick or you’ll miss it  gossip item and then nothing more is seen.

Will I give up reading sequels? No. Because there are stories that need to be continued. And those? I will read to pieces.

The Happy Prisoner

Scene from Company X, Building Z, First Floor, Unit Awesome Sauce on Friday September 27, 2013

Coworker 123: <grumbling and mumbling at her computer>

Me: <eating lunch while checking Amazon for the Daily Kindle Deal> “Sucks, sucks, sucks, sucks…The Happy Prisoner for $1.99? Monica Dickens is on KINDLE?!?!?!” <checks to see what other Monica Dickens titles are available> “It’s like Amazon KNEW I was going to write my The Happy Prisoner review this weekend!”

Coworker 123: <you can HEAR the massive eye-roll>

Don’t pity Coworker 123. Do you know how loud I have to have my iPod to drown out her constant stream of under her breath comments on everything? If you should pity anyone…GRRRRR

Blood pressure rising, calm down, calm down, am at home and just ate a chocolate chunk scone the size of my head. You have book reviews to write!

Yes, the Monica Dickens marathon continues until the inter-library loans resources are a) exhausted or b) the library system revokes my borrowing privileges. I COULD buy Monica Dickens on Kindle or track down used copies but am on the tightest of budgets right now because of course, Blacklight’s desktop computer is acting up and might need a new hard driver or motherboard or something that costs hundreds. <bangs head on throw pillow>. Thank Great Tulu for the Central Connecticut Library system.

Now what Monica Dickens did I devour this time, glaring at Blacklight whenever he came into the bedroom to bother me? Did you read the title of this blog post? No? Okay…. <sighs> On the chopping block today is 1947’s The Happy Prisoner by Miss Monica Dickens. To be very honest, through out the first reading, I was not impressed. The book seemed to not go anywhere, I was getting confused by characters and the only thing I was taking away from The Happy Prisoner was how very much I wanted to put on my shoes, grab my wallet, walk the five blocks to Walgreens to buy the biggest bar of chocolate in the place. Two ounces of chocolate for a person’s ration. TWO OUNCES! A better person (not me) should have been swooning over Oliver (our happy prisoner) and the love stories and glad that the evil American stepmother from hell Honey was played. Since when am I a better person? My initial thoughts for the review were BLAST IT INTO PIECES and then STOMP on the pieces and GET SOME DAMN CHOCOLATE.

However the next morning on my drive into work at 5:30 am (yes I start work at the crack of dawn), keeping an eye out for Bambi and friends on the twisting rural roads, a thought sprung into my head. No, NOT “is Starbucks in F-ton open so I can get a tall hot chocolate no whip” or “get gas now or after work”. Both those usually occur to me at some point on the way to work. What did spring into my head was the last quarter of The Happy Prisoner and especially the final page.

The bulk of the novel is all about our hero Oliver, recovering at home from his nearly deadly war injuries, he could die at any moment. In the household are his American mother, his sisters Violet and Heather, his young American cousin Evelyn and Oliver’s new nurse Elizabeth. Spinster Violet finds an unlikely love and marries. Heather struggles with faith and a crumbling marriage. Nurse Elizabeth is all remote and efficient. Mother flutters and Evelyn is obsessed with her horse. In a better mood, I would gobble this plot up like a long lost Angela Thirkell. But in the last quarter, things get a little more interesting. Heather’s prisoner of war husband returns with a big secret (no, he’s not gay-try “ZOMG he had a…mistress who died”. Evelyn’s father Bob comes to England for his daughter with his new wife, the elegant and terrifying Honey.  And Nurse Elizabeth’s tough shell is cracked-she wants to save Evelyn from the wicked stepmother because she…had a wicked stepmonster herself!

Remember the hought I had on the way to work? It’s a bit Gwen Crazy Literary Theories time. The last quarter of The Happy Prisoner reminds me a bit of Patrick Dennis, in particular his novel The Joyous Season, a romp about a couple who splits up, finds the most horrid replacements for their spouse and the chaos that ensues. One of the replacements? Miss Dorian Glen (government name Glendora from the sticks) is a lean, sleek, polished, too fashionable for her own good sex demon who wants nothing more than the glamorous New York society life in a fancy  apartment. Now before Patrick Dennis was well…the best selling author Patrick Dennis and still having adventures in the New York advertising world, across the pond Monica Dickens was crafting a character Miss Dorian Glen would call sister, the elegant, lean, too fashionable for her own good, self obsessed sex demon Honey who ensnares Evelyn’s father Bob in her honey trap.  Honey, who should really be called Honey Badger because girl don’t give a bleep, doesn’t care about England, society, the social niceties, her new stepdaughter beyond making her an accessory or the importance of pony club. Honey Badger is awesome. Honey Badger gives the last quarter of The Happy Prisoner life. 

All right, The Happy Prisoner was written six years before Patrick Dennis unleashed his poison pen in print but ****SPOILER ALERT**** DO NOT READ THE NEXT BIT IF YOU DON’T WANT TO HAVE THE ENDING SPOILED****YOU’RE STILL READING THIS? FINE! SPOILERS AHEAD!****Nurse Elizabeth breaking off her engagement to Mr Dull, rushing back to Oliver to declare her love and on the very last page find out Oliver caught measles from his cousin Evelyn? Love while things around you are in ruins? Pure Patrick Dennis.

Once my brain made the very deranged The Happy Prisoner/The Joyous Season connection, The Happy Prisoner became another book. It was as if my brain needed a back door to process it properly. I played the Casting Game. Can’t you just see Tasmin Greig (Black Books, Green Wing) as the tall, gawky, awkward, overgrown Land Girl Violet? Darren Boyd (Spy) as the invalid Oliver? Fay Bainter as their American mother? Gail Patrick as Honey Badger? And then I remembered when The Happy Prisoner was published. Literary audiences, battered down by war, rationing (still going on years after the war ended) and shortages would have loved a novel with someone coming home to a loving family, finding love in unlikely places and adjusting to the post war life. For as much as a reader might loathe Honey Badger for her evil and coldness, Honey Badger has lovely clothes and style and doesn’t cling to old social norms and she lives a glamorous life in New York City. Honey Badger is pretty darn awesome

If you devour British novels like peppermints and can wrap your head around the changing post World War II England, The Happy Prisoner is a must read. If not, Blacklight says “Stephen R. Donaldson is pretty cool.” <sighs>