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Confident Women

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

I’m at the doctor’s office…again. Over a week of poking, prodding and I’m beyond tired, in a gown doing my best to read one handed waiting. And when Doctor Awesome finally does rap on the door, I’m engrossed in a tale almost too over the top to respond right away. Remember I am in a doctor’s office, a place I fear more than a Great White suddenly appearing in the pretty reservoir I drive by twice a day, more than the vivid tsunami dreams that have me waking up in a full body sweat most nights. Books have a grip on my life but this isn’t just any book.

Doctor Awesome does her thing and I’m fighting back the urge to discuss what I just read with a human being. How could an author I remember filling shelves at Barnes & Noble AND Borders lose just about everything to a con person? Granted I never read a single one of her books because romance isn’t my favorite genre but you have to have some sort of smarts to write all those best sellers right? Who wants to discuss wound care and prescriptions when you have the craziest real life story to get back to?

You want to know which romance author I’m babbling about? Sorry, you have to read about it yourself. In this book please. Yes Google is your friend but authors have to eat too. Read this book. Support authors mini lecture OVER. Back to the review.

Sadly Confident Women: Swindlers, Grifters, and Shapeshifters of the Feminine Persuasion had to be tucked back into my bag because I still had go back to the office to finish my work shift and run errands before I could dive back in properly. Adulting sucks.

Remember several years back when the awesome historical ladies sub genre really came into it’s own. Usually a trade paperback volume of profiles across history, rebels, princesses/royals, feminists and criminals? Some excellent and some so poorly researched it made my historian heart cringe. Most of the current offerings are focused on a single individual to explore as an icon but you can still find the classical formula.

Enter Tori Telfer. Lady Killers: Deadly Women Throughout History was a terrific book to stumble across in the stacks of the Very Posh City Main Library AND in my local Working Class City of Hard Hitting. Women who I knew a great deal about, women I had heard about in passing and women who were brand new to me written in a clear, sharp voice that you want to sit down with and just discuss cases until your fancy tea went cold? Yes please!

Of course when I was at Very Posh City Main Library and found Tori Telfer’s Confident Women: Swindlers, Grifters, and Shapeshifters of the Feminine Persuasion it was a no brainer I was checking it out. The only issue was devour it as soon as I got home or save it for my doctor’s appointments because as compelling as each entry is, you can put it down long enough to do the medical stuff. I really appreciate that in a book, I truly do. And you can focus on the whiskey tango, how did people fall for this and oh good golly Miss Molly I want to shake Scammer X until her teeth rattle bits when you need to distract yourself from the poking and prodding bits.

Hopefully I don’t have to keep going back to see Doctor Awesome every few days. And really hoping to see another Tori Telfer collection in the next few years.

Better Luck Next Time

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

If you asked me to list my favorite movies, the majority would be John Carpenter and James Cameron titles. And right next to Aliens is the superior aka the original film adaptation of Clare Boothe Luce’s The Women. There’s a 2008 remake? No there is NOT!

And the best scenes in The Women aren’t the beauty salon or the climax at the nightclub. Norma Shearer is a dull eyed automaton taking up space while Rosalind Russell buzzes around and Joan Crawford oozes bad girl from every pore. The very best scenes are set on a dude ranch where mostly rich ladies wait for their six weeks of Nevada residency to kick in order to get Reno-vated (aka divorced). Paulette Goddard’s Miriam Aarons is so luminous and leaps off the scene. She’s modern and not quite like the other cast. Beyond glorious especially when Rosalind Russell appears and things happen. I love me some Paulette Goddard.

Between The Women and trying to tracking down a copy of Guestward Ho! a comic tale of a New Mexico dude ranch with Patrick Dennis as a co-author which has become a victim of the Deaccession Squad, of course I’m interested in a historical novel set in a 1930s dude ranch. A book with glowing reviews that might not be sappier than a New England maple syrup factory. I even made a special trip to the library to grab Julia Claiborne Johnson’s Better Luck Next Time from the New Fiction section after work.

And now for the basic plot. An retired doctor, Ward, is shown a picture by a young visitor and remembers his time working at a dude ranch, The Flying Leap. It’s a quirky little place, engineered to be the picture perfect dude ranch with lovely horses and ranch hands chosen as much for their resemblances to Hollywood leading men as their wrangling skills. Ward favors a young Clark Gable and Sam could give Gary Cooper a run for his money. Hubba hubba. Honestly the main reason for The Flying Leap is to be a soft place to land for wealthy women seeking quick divorces. Horses and riding are just a nice distraction.

Pity places like The Flying Leap don’t still exist, particularly when the spouse decides to be extremely chatty while I’m writing.

Back to Better Luck Next Time. The Flying Leap is welcoming new ladies for their six weeks in Nevada. We have the Zeppelin, an older woman of the world who still considers herself to be vibrant and attractive to the men folk. There’s a showgirl type who doesn’t seem very deep intellectually even though she is well traveled. And then we have our two heroines. The Mouse and the Doomed One. These are not their names but the moment they appeared on the page Emily (The Mouse) a meek San Francisco housewife and Nina (The Doomed One) a glamorous heiress with a pilot’s license and a string of husbands obtain brand spanking new names in my head.

And this is where my experience with Better Luck Next Time doesn’t match up with the vast majority of reviews I’ve seen. To my odd self, Better Luck Next Time is a nice read to crawl into bed with on a chilly night, something I can read in a few hours. A book that captures the imagination but doesn’t tax my brain and can be easily picked up and started again after the spouse comes into the bedroom. The fates of Emily and Nina aren’t a huge surprise. If would have been more surprising if Emily and Nina ran off with the dishy younger Ward and set up a triad. But that would be an entirely different novel indeed.

Better Luck Next Time is a perfectly fine book. If the book club at work was revived and I was allowed to suggest a title (which is another story to be told at another time), Better Luck Next Time would be a great choice. There’s something for everyone even cranky me. Learning Julia Claiborne Johnson’s own father worked at a dude ranch like The Flying Leap was interesting and the little tidbit one dude ranch did have a stagecoach to pick up their clients. The Zeppelin is delightful and I would love an entire book about her adventures in amour right up to her visit to The Flying Leap.

If you’re in the mood for a nice read? Grab Better Luck Next Time or better yet? Recommend it to your book club.

The Unfit Heiress

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

What’s the first thing you think when you hear the word heiress? Beautiful? Wild? Adventurous? Scandalous? Spoiled? Troubled? Does it summon images of glamorous women in gowns draped in furs and jewels? In nightclubs looking like weary painted dolls as prize balloons drop from the ceiling? Or in a simple cut suit that cost more than six months of a working girl’s wages as they testify in court to unburden themselves of another spouse? Or have I spent much of my formative years watching too many Preston Sturges movies while reading about Gloria Vanderbilt, Brenda Frazier and their ilk.

Almost forgotten among these Poor Little Rich Girls from 1920-1950 is one Ann Cooper Hewitt. Like her peers she had a sad childhood, too much money, a string of husbands, failed marriages, artistic leanings and headlines aplenty. What makes Ann Cooper Hewitt stand out? The sterilization surgery at only twenty years old, done without her knowledge or consent. Audrey Clare Farley’s The Unfit Heiress: The Tragic Life and Scandalous Sterilization of Ann Cooper Hewitt brings light to the infamous case and the not widely known history of forced sterilizations that still haunts us today.

Let’s go back almost nine decades. A troubled girl, the daughter of a brilliant inventor and his scandalous second wife, has a fortune but lives in a narrow world controlled by her mother, without a good education or an extended support network. Since she is underaged she doesn’t have a say in anything and her fortune is controlled by a trust with her mother receiving funds from the trust for her care. Very Gloria Vanderbilt, in fact Ann’s mother Maryon used to be involved with Gloria’s father, the doomed Reginald C. Vanderbilt back in the day. And one day, after being stricken with severe stomach pains, twenty year old Ann is whisked into surgery and wakes up to find out she will never be able to have children thanks to her Fallopian tubes being removed. Yes, removed.

Funny thing that. Actually not funny at all. A sobering reality is many young women where (and still are) subjected to sterilization without their consent or knowledge. Like boys? Get caught in a sexual situation? Family doesn’t want the shame of a loose daughter or sister? Maybe not be a Mensa scholar aka feeble-minded or a moron? Have a child out of wedlock? Forced into an institution to cover up a sexual crime against you? (Dead serious. Stop reading this and look up Carrie Buck) Not be lily-white? Be part of a culture or ethnicity seen as having too many children as a whole? You might be “fortunate” enough to have your ability and decision making about your reproductive right snatched away.

Enraging isn’t it.

So Ann Cooper Hewitt was one of this sad sisterhood, rendered sterile by specialists who decided she was over-sexed and a moron (using the actual medical term here-look it up). But was sex crazed Ann the truth or her mother trying to retain control of her and her money after she turned 21. And did her mother collude with the specialists. The case made it to trial but no one ever was convicted or served time. Infuriating.

Now here’s where Audrey Clare Farley’s The Unfit Heiress: The Tragic Life and Scandalous Sterilization of Ann Cooper Hewitt is more than just rehashing a forgotten trial. Our society has not gotten any better over the years. There where and still are women being subjected to sterilizations based on views and not facts. Women without agency. It’s heart rending and horrific. And really makes me think. Sent back to the 1930s, would I have been one of these women? A lower class, raised Catholic gal with disabilities who really likes the joys of the flesh with very limited opportunities. Chances are excellent I would have been on the operating table in a state institution.

To be frank, The Unfit Heiress: The Tragic Life and Scandalous Sterilization of Ann Cooper Hewitt is not an easy or light read. It’s not a huge tome, it has a nice heft and slid right into my tote bag of laundromat supplies. But don’t come looking for some gossipy froth of a book. It’s sobering and will make you think of your particular privileges or lack of in choosing what to do with your body and your reproduction decisions.

If you see Audrey Clare Farley’s The Unfit Heiress: The Tragic Life and Scandalous Sterilization of Ann Cooper Hewitt ? Pick it up and do more than just skim the inside flap. Please.

The Haunting of Alma Fielding: A True Ghost Story

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

As I’ve mentioned before I’m a member of Generation X. If they have an interesting in the weird/supernatural it was mostly likely the result of In Search of and those Time-Life book series commercials. Or have I just listened to too many Monster House podcasts? That could be true.

Another true thing is I’ve read another Kate Summerscale book and truly enjoyed it. If you’re thinking “way to give away the review silly”? Hush and read on.

The Haunting of Alma Fielding: A True Ghost Story covers a paranormal claim that fascinated late 1930s England just before World War II. Was a respectable wife and mother truly plagued by a poltergeist who reigned torment on her household or was it total bunk by a con artist who wanted attention? Remember this is a time when cases like Gef the Talking Mongoose and the Borley Rectory filled the papers.

A book like The Haunting of Alma Fielding: A True Ghost Story can go several ways. There is the way of the woo-the lightly researched tomes that seem to just copy/paste everything else about their subject. These are legion. Another way is pure skeptical, everything is fake, everyone is a scammer.

And then there is The Haunting of Alma Fielding: A True Ghost Story. My eyebrows might have shot up so high the Anastasia Beverly Hills Soft Brown Brow Definer stained the lace front of my wig over some truly suspect interactions Nandor Fodor had with his subject Alma Fielding. I know we live in a time where people are learning to recognize sketchy behavior and red flags. But Nandor Fodor was so chummy with Alma Fielding I fully expected to turn a page and discover the two where more than researcher and subject. It’s a fine line that occurs even with research today.

But don’t get me wrong. The Haunting of Alma Fielding: A True Ghost Story is not a sleazy book with sleazy salacious revelations of humpa-jumpa all over the place. Kate Summerscale is not that kind of author. Her books are well researched, thoughtful and thought provoking. It’s a fascinating look at the paranormal research community and it’s procedures in testing claims and reads like a literary novel. You can believe Alma and think Nandor Fodor is a jerk or you can believe Alma was a fraud and still enjoy this book. Me? Nandor Fodor most certainly had more red flags investigating Alma Fielding than Color War at summer camp but something very bad happened to Alma Fielding in her past.

But that’s just my opinion. Track down The Haunting of Alma Fielding: A True Ghost Story, give it a read and make up your own mind about the truth of Alma Fielding’s claims.

The Home-Maker

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

I fully intended to settle down after work today with different book, perhaps one of the newer novels I picked up from the New Britain Public Library last night. Instead, I came home from work, had a snack and curled up on the couch with Dorothy Canfield Fisher’s 1924 classic The Home-maker. And I. Have. Thoughts.

The Home-maker is a slight book, even with the large print edition. But it packs a wallow. The basic story is simple. A housewife, the titular home-maker struggles to maintain her sense of place with day to day household tasks. She’s considered a wonderful wife and mother by her peers and pitied for her husband’s failures in business. A tragic accident leads to a new life for everyone. Now what makes this basic plot line make such an impact?

Our housewife Mrs. Knapp/Evangeline lives for her family and home. Every waking minute is consumed in making sure everything is perfect. Her introduction is scrubbing grease stains on the kitchen floor. The task is so consuming, so bone deep and intense it crackles the very air. All that matters is that stain, not even her young son or a chance to go out with a friend. With those few lines I knew just how that house smelled, the wax and polish and soap. Not a delightful smell but one that stings the nose, an industrial clean. If you’ve ever heard of the Instagram cleaner Mrs. Hinch? That’s the smell, clean but painful to the nose and sinuses.

And further reading doesn’t change the image of a narrow life. Her husband and her older children are diminished, ghosts of themselves, too frightened to fuss or be themselves. The dinner is stomach churning and tense, is there any wonder her middle child and spouse have digestive issues?

Mrs. Knapp isn’t a total monster. She has a creative eye and is quite respected in matters of organization and taste. She is the exact type of person I can imagine taking The Women’s Institute courses and writing in to their newsletter to tell of first her great savings in clothing her family and then writing back to tell of her own little business making clothes or trimming hats. I can also imagine her being the supervisor for a typing pool, keeping the typists at their desks, stopping gossip and ruling the roost. I can imagine Evangeline Knapp is any but a wife and mother.

It’s almost a blessing when Mrs Knapp is forced seek a job after her husband is severely injured. The tension wondering when she was going to completely snap and cause great bodily harm was lifted. I might be reading too much true crime but her battles of will with her youngest son Stephen? I seriously thought one of them would end up dead. So much rage deep in both of them. But working at the local department has Mrs Knapp blooming and the family in much better circumstances even if it means the wife is the breadwinner and the husband the home-maker.

Reading The Home-maker back in 1924 must have been a shock to the system. Especially how embracing the role of bread-winner has Evangeline Knapp a happier person not to mention how well Lester Knapp takes to running the household even if the neighbors disapprove. Heck it’s still shocking over a hundred years later. We are in a different century but those old norms still hold.

The Home-maker is certainly worth the read. Just try and not feel some kinship with Evangeline after a day of doing housework only to have it all rendered useless by a family member getting water all over the sparkling bathroom surfaces. Or not feel the same despair when she tries to accept that in her current circumstances a new home isn’t possible when 2021 You reads articles about the sheer madness of the housing market.

Cursed Objects

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

Sometimes you need a book you can pick up, set down and come back to without needing to remember who the characters are, let alone a plot. Or a book you can read while half listening to your spouse keeping up a running commentary on whatever show they’re watching. A book fitting this description is a blessing if you are snatching time to read between say checking on the laundry, stuck at the stove or in your car waiting for an appointment to end. The trick is to find one of these books is to haunt the bookstore shelves.

Or in my case, scanning the New Fiction section of a library with a combination of excellent funding and a buying committee likes to mix it up. A few weeks ago, I was at just such a library and stumbled across J.W. Ocker’s Cursed Objects: Strange But True Stories of the World’s Most Infamous Items. I know it seems I stumble across many books but thanks a nasty childhood accident back when Jaws ruled the box office, I’m lame in the old-fashioned sense, walking with a limp best described as “broken Frankenstein’s Monster” and unless I’m paying attention to my surroundings can stumble over my own darn feet before you can say “library book sale”.

There I was, bending over slightly at the waist to scan the new books, when a lovely book bound in black with dull bronze lettering caught my eye. I swear I do not pick books on looks alone but let’s be honest, a well-designed book is going draw the eye. Especially if said book isn’t a standard hardcover size.

Now books in the Dewey Decimal 001 need a second, third and seventh look over because even though like many Generation X people, I grew up with In Search of and Time-Life paranormal books, I am more skeptical. And most Dewey Decimal 001 books tend to lean much more woo than I can tolerate.

Cursed Objects: Strange But True Stories of the World’s Most Infamous Items is not woo. Don’t let the title fool you. Yes, it covers several woo classics (the Hope Diamond, mummy curses, crystal skulls) but there is a strong streak of here’s the story, here’s the truth and enjoy the ride.

Remember me talking about books you can read for a moment and put down? Cursed Objects: Strange But True Stories of the World’s Most Infamous Items passes the test with flying colors. Early morning trip to the laundromat with five loads of laundry-all with different wash/drying times? Reading while waiting for the electric kettle to finish? A quick chapter before bed? All done and dusted. And if you want to read more? The selected bibliography has some solid reading for those willing to track down or expand their minds.

It’s not a book I would recommend to my father (his tastes run more True Life in the Woods Adventures), or the spouse (World Building Fantasy For The Old School D&D crowd). But I would recommend Cursed Objects: Strange But True Stories of the World’s Most Infamous Items to my brother, people who loved the original Nimoy hosted In Search of and fun informative podcasts. You are my people, read this book if you’ve haven’t already.

Now the book design. It’s more important than you think. People’s book dollars are limited. An excellent book in a poorly designed/constructed edition isn’t going to appeal to the eye or wallet. If this doesn’t influence your book buying? Lucky you and obviously I am living my life wrong. Cursed Objects: Strange But True Stories of the World’s Most Infamous Items is a Quirk Books title.

If you are brand new to Quirk Books? They’re an independent publisher who specialize in quirky books. Their titles are informative without talking down to the reader. And their design team? Love love love. One of the reasons Cursed Objects: Strange But True Stories of the World’s Most Infamous Items is such a good book is the design. Crisp but not overpowering colors, fun graphics all around. Combined with J.W. Ocker’s sharp writing? Cursed Objects: Strange But True Stories of the World’s Most Infamous Items should be on your Wish/TBR list. It’s definitely on my To Buy list.

Now to return Cursed Objects: Strange But True Stories of the World’s Most Infamous Items to the library for someone else to enjoy.

The Twisted Ones

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

A confession.

I love weird fiction but most modern weird fiction leaves me numb. Case in point? I purchased S.T. Joshi’s The Modern Weird Tale (Kindle version on October 10, 2013 according to Amazon) and I don’t think I got more than twenty pages into the darn thing even at the height of my weird tale/Mythos mania. I’m a simple gal who prefers her poorly transcribed public domain Kindle editions and LibriVox audiobooks read in a dull monotone even at the most exciting bits.

Let’s skip forward in time to the present. Yesterday morning in fact. I’m at work looking for something to listen to between jumping up from my desk and racing to see if my printer Maxwell Demon has jammed…again during my largest print job of the day. I’ve been slowly working my way through The Monster She Wrote podcast, picking interesting sounding titles and decide on Episode 27: The Twisted Ones. Modern weird fiction but using Arthur Machen as a springboard? I was hooked.

Being the never has enough money for all the books I want person I am, of course I checked to see if the local library carried The Twisted Ones. Sadly no, but a library about 25 minutes away did have it. Ordinarily I would be putting in a borrow request but checking my phone (I’m always taking screenshots of what libraries have certain books) the library also had another book or seventeen I wanted. Can you say Saturday morning road trip?

Now it’s Saturday night. The spouse is watching YouTube videos and cackling like a damn hyena over the antics of some guy playing Minecraft. I have my cute new laptop out, Barbie pink knockoff iPhone earbuds in listening to Rio era Duran Duran trying to drown out the “hahahahaha” <pause for breath> “hahahahaha” and write this review. Because I finished The Twisted Ones less than thirty minutes ago and I. Have. Thoughts.

First? It’s a darn good thing not all modern weird fiction is as good as The Twisted Ones. Heavens knows I’ve read enough poorly written Lovecraft knock-offs to fill the built-in living room bookcase. Heck, I’ve even written enough dreadful Lovecraft/King/Bloch inspired things to make me hang my head in deep shame and want to share with the world just how awful they are in case anyone is in need of a laugh.

If more writers had T. Kingfisher’s touch with blending my favorite Arthur Machen book The White People with her own interpretation of what happens when you meet the White People then I would be making the local library beg me to stop requesting books from other libraries.

Now for the quick summation of the plot I gave the spouse when my “Yes!” distracted him from YouTube minus all the “do you know who Arthur Machen is? No…do you know who Lovecraft is? No…I don’t care you find Lovecraft too hard to read. Do you know Lovecraft exists? Good…” bits.

A woman named Mouse and her dog go to her late estranged grandmother’s house to clean it out. The house is a hoarder house and weird things are lurking in the woods. And she finds her late step-grandfather’s journal alluding to a Green Book which is actually the Green Book that forms the central story in Arthur Machen’s The White People. And things get….weirder.

Now you don’t need to have read The White People to enjoy The Twisted Ones. You could have never read a single word of weird fiction before (and that’s perfectly okay-there’s huge cultural things I haven’t and never will read) and still pick up The Twisted Ones and have an excellent read.

If you have read The White People? Terrific! You get the joy of figuring out select things before Mouse and you might be my favorite character, the feisty Foxy who has had her adventures and then some in her at least six decades on the Earth. You want Foxy on your side trust me. I would read about a book all about Ms. Foxy’s adventures pre The Twisted Ones. Right after she’s taught me how to walk in high heels without twisting my ankle to bits.

If you haven’t read The White People? You are still going to love The Twisted Ones and you are Mouse. Go get your Bongo a forbidden cheeseburger and then after you’ve finished The Twisted Ones? Lay your hands on The White People, read that and then explore more of T. Kingfisher (government name Ursula Vernon) titles.

The Divines

~ Wendy-Marie ~ Leave a comment

Last week I was at the library picking up a few books to start off a much needed vacation in the right way when I stumbled across a pale pink tome with an interesting title. The Divines, a debut novel by Ellie Eaton. Gave the inside a peek and British elite girls school and a mystery? Sounded good to me so into my library bag it went.

Perhaps I should have read the blurbs on the back closer or just put it back on the shelf because even though I grabbed The Divines and crawled into bed only intending to read a few pages which became finishing the book at 12:43am, I don’t care for this book. I might be too old for the target audience. I might have been expecting something more Miss Pym Disposes. But I could not connect at all with The Divines.

Remember this is my opinion only. You might pick up The Divines and think Sephine is awesome from dot one. Me? Sephine? Okay…oh the main character is named Josephine, answers to Joe per the traditions of her ancient girls school and goes by Sephine as an adult. If you can wrap your head around this without a deep right down to your toes whole body sigh, please read The Divines. On reflection I find Joe/Sephine an unreliable narrator. And to be very honest a bit of a see you next Tuesday. She’s mopey and whiney on the page, the younger students think she is cruel and mysterious and goals.

So do I like anything about The Divines. As usual I think a side character is oceans more interesting than coming of age/explore her world/entitled Joe/Sephine. Miss Joe/Sephine can sleep with everyone on her friend Lauren’s street right down to the corner shop exploring herself and I don’t care. I DO want to know more about her despised roommate The Poison Dwarf aka Gerry.

What makes Gerry interesting? The other girls at the school are lost Mitfordian posh girls, wannabe Olympia Stanislopolous girls. I grew up with girls schools in books filled with gals who hid pregnancies, mobster fathers, suicide attempts and didn’t bore the pants off me. The Poison Dwarf is more mine kind of girls school character. She’s a champion ice skater, more dedicated to her craft than the inner workings of being a Divine girl. She might be having an affair with her coach or driver. She’s tiny and tough. Her accent isn’t cut glass and I picture her as a Tonya Harding with new money. The other girls hate her. And her kindness to Joe/Sephine is twisted around to harm her. I want her story not Miss I Wear My Father’s Cardigan And Flick My Hair. After all it’s something that happens to Gerry that drives the final nail into the school’s coffin.

Gerry the Poison Dwarf is the thing that kept me reading The Divines. When I was in high school (most certainly not a private school because I wasn’t clever or rich enough), roughly the age of Joe/Sephine and her friends, a new girl came to school. Now my high school served two towns and I had never meet or heard of this new girl but tongues buzzed. The new girl was drop dead gorgeous, a young Vivien Leigh and a working actress with proper credits and even a TV show. The other girls who knew her back in the day weren’t thrilled. She was different, another species of creature inhabiting the halls of our quaint proto Stars Hollow public school. She was our Gerry without the tragedy. She was truly Divine.

Sometimes You Have to Lie: The Life and Times of Louise Fitzhugh, Renegade Author of Harriet the Spy

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Like many 1970s kids HARRIET THE SPY was a must read book right up there with Judy Blume. And like Judy Blume’s heroines I was envious of Harriet’s freedom as a NYC city kid vs my stricter Michigan suburban childhood. But I never knew anything about her creator. Thanks to Leslie Brody’s biography of Harriet’s creator Louise Fitzhugh I now know Ms. Fitzhugh was closer in spirit to Patricia Highsmith then the grandmotherly persona I imagined. From a Southern childhood worthy of a Truman Capote character to a character in post World War II New York City, Louise Fitzhugh was true to herself no matter how shocking it might seem. She was a thriving artist who created a book that charmed children and horrified most adults. And she even took a swipe at Kay Thompson’s Eloise with her own Suzuki Beane (and yes I stopped reading to check out Suzuki Beane which is sadly out of print and quite expensive on the second hand market-some quirky hip publisher put Suzuki Beane on your radar for a much needed reissue please). She only left behind a few books compared to her contemporaries Kay Thompson and Dare Wright but unlike those two ladies? Louise Fitzhugh has never stopped charming new generations of children.

The Landlord’s Daughter

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A Sunday afternoon curled up Mr Couch reading a Monica Dickens novel should be delightful right? Then why am I staring at The Landlord’s Daughter wondering if blasting through Season Five of Deadly Women on Netflix would have been a better use of my Sunday afternoon?

According to the Internet, The Landlord’s Daughter is Monica Dickens reworking/re-imagining of Alfred Noyes’ poem The Highwayman. I must not have the brain to properly appreciate poems and literature because I don’t care for The Landlord’s Daughter. There are so many parts of the book that could have been turned into novels of their own which I would have happily read. But mushed all together? Yuck. The framing story with Charlie (the landlord’s daughter) widower and wannabe musician Terence has a Patricia Highsmith/Ripley feel. Charlie’s background as the plain girls school gym mistress who leads a narrow and chaste life in her run down cottage, an outsider from her family (rich landlord father, famous artist model mother, popular actor brother and society beauty younger sister) could have drawn even more on the experiences Monica Dickens had living as a spinster in her little country cottage. She could have even expanded the plot thread of the sister in law dying of TB from her working as a cook/housekeeper in the 1930s for a family with a mother dying of TB.

Instead what we get is a story that leaps from the current time (circa the late 1960s) back to the early 1930s and back again. Just when you’re getting cozy with Charlie at school, BANG, it’s time for Charlie’s widower to pop up and babble on about dealing with his daily cleaner and Terence. There is a way to make these jumps less annoying because golly knows that Barbara Vine/Ruth Rendell does it superbly in A Dark-Adapted Eye which also has a mysterious at its core. But Rendell’s mystery is interesting. I really don’t care what “Jack Morgan” did or didn’t do. If you must do the whole story told as a memoir for the descendants thing, why cut off at the point Monica Dickens does. If “Jack Morgan” and Julia’s loathing of her mother is so important keep writing and show me what Charlie endured after “Jack”‘s death and the birth of Julia. Or tell me the story from Julia’s perspective of discovering the truth about her parentage and her mother’s secret life.

If you do appreciate poems and literature and are made of stronger stuff then me, by all means pick up The Landlord’s Daughter. For me? I’d rather re-read one of Monica Dickens memoirs any day. Heck, I’d rather re-read The Nightingales Are Singing and you know how much I loved that book. Maybe I’ll have a revelation and find a way to better get my head around The Landlord’s Daughter like I did with The Happy Prisoner. But at least The Happy Prisoner felt more like a proper novel versus The Landlord’s Daughter everything in the fridge stew of ideas.