Ersatz TLS discussion

Anne wrote: "Bill wrote: "I find the use of photographs for fiction cover images generally unsatisfactory, especially when they include people (or parts of people), preferring paintings, illustrations, graphics..."

https://www.bookdepository.com/Innoce...

Is it this one? This is the edition I have. I quite like the look of that brooding man in his white loafers!

Reen wrote: "This is the edition I have. I quite like the look of that brooding man in his white loafers!"

Am I the only one whose first thought on seeing this cover is "Mr Bean"?

Bill wrote: "Reen wrote: "This is the edition I have. I quite like the look of that brooding man in his white loafers!"

Am I the only one whose first thought on seeing this cover ..."

Ah, Bill, you've ruined it for me now!

inter/ Justine, you are much missed.

I am so glad your profile over at TL&S is still there ( https://profile.theguardian.com/user/... ), as I was worried for a moment just now: I had had your profile page open on my phone for quite a while (since we read the sad news), sometimes looking up conversations, and suddenly, even on repeated reload, was informed "404-page can't be found".
What a relief it was only some bug or other.

Shelflife_wasBooklooker wrote: "I had had your profile page open on my phone for quite a while (...) and suddenly, even on repeated reload, was informed "404-page can't be found"."

This happens often to me, and it's always for the same reason... Not sure this might apply here though, but just in case, I'll mention it as I know other people got some frights in the past over profiles that had only apparently disappeared: if you make any search in a given profile, if you reload that page, it will draw that 404 error message. So it's not the profile that has disappeared, it's - because of a glitch - your specific keyword search only.

I finished Tanizaki's A Cat, a Man, and Two Women and really liked it. As a cat-lover it was right up my street, and it relieved the Covid gloom for a short while.

My review's here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

That's a very enjoyable review, Cabbie. I like it (cats, too). Thank you.

Hushpuppy wrote: "if you make any search in a given profile, if you reload that page, it will draw that 404 error message. So it's not the profile that has disappeared, it's - because of a glitch - your specific keyword search only. "

Thanks, Hush, yes, that would have been it. Good to know. (I don't use the search tool often - maybe I should, so as to avoid insecurities about repeating myself!)
I had been searching for Harz, as inter/ Justine had written in which places she'd been there when we discussed it. I am now especially glad I posted the Harz photos for her, even though offtopic...

Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont by Elizabeth Taylor is a gem of a book. Into its 194 pages is crammed a cast of characters with whom one is inclined to greater or lesser degrees of empathy. This is the second of Taylor’s novels I have read, the first – A View of the Harbour – also on Justine’s recommendation. I liked this one even more. I’ll avoid any spoilers for any who may yet pick it from Alby’s list but it’s a glorious way to pass a few hours as I did between bed and park bench in the sunshine (the bench not the bed) yesterday to celebrate the feast of our native saint. It’s poignant without being tear jerking, gloriously witty and superbly observed.

Taylor writes people really well; you’d think that might be true of most authors but hers is a rare gift of letting you know someone within a couple of paragraphs as if they are standing there in front of you, and layering character masterfully over subsequent pages. There are enviable dialogue sequences that verge on farce and other passages of remarkable brevity describing heartbreaking loneliness.

I tittered often, frightening a nearby blackbird at one point. I was sorry to be self-aware enough to see something of Mrs Arbuthnot in myself and perhaps not enough of Mrs Palfrey's better characteristics. Strangely, though, it was a Mr Osmond I came to feel for most by the end of the book … but I’ve said too much. I’ll leave you with this teaser: “He had a glass of wine on the table beside him, but did not touch it. He sat patiently still, with his hands on his knees, as if waiting for the drink to drink itself.”

And now, I turn my attentions for the first time in a long time to A Single Man.

Shelflife_wasBooklooker wrote: "That's a very enjoyable review, Cabbie. I like it (cats, too). Thank you...."

Thanks for reading :-)

You're welcome, Cabbie!


@ Georg (in reply to what you wrote in "What are we reading?")

Regarding lighting candles, the church bells here are still ringing every evening at 7:30 for the covid (and other) dead, as they have done since the worsening of the crisis (with a break in summer, when there were very few deaths in Germany overall). I don't hear the bells unless a window is open, so I don't manage every evening, but have been lighting a candle for inter/ Justine on occasion, too.

Shelflife_wasBooklooker wrote: "You're welcome, Cabbie!


@ Georg (in reply to what you wrote in "What are we reading?")

Regarding lighting candles, the church bells here are still ringing every evening at 7:30 for the covid (an..."

What a lovely idea to ring the church bells daily for the Covid victims. I have never heard of that before.

The church bells here ring every day at 6am. As I am wont to think sometimes only to torture those poor insomniacs who had eventually managed to fall asleep in the early hours.

March is a 'candle-heavy' month for me already. My mothers birthday (2nd), death-day (15th), my fathers birthday (23rd), death day (April the 3rd)
My father died about 12 hours after Giovanni Paolo II. Hope they didn't meet on their way to wherever, my father would have been less than pleased....

I'll hope that for him, too, Georg!

That must be a hard month. All the best.
Did your father like books as much as you? Because he was born on World Book Day: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_B... (except in UK and Ireland, where it is set earlier).
I always thought it a good choice of date, considering the connection to Shakespeare and Cervantes & others as mentioned in the article I provided a link to.

6:00 a.m. is incredible. I am not too happy about the bells ringing on Sunday at 8:30 a.m., but 6:00 in the morning, every day? You have my commiseration.

Edit: Sorry, Georg, I was wrong about world book day - obviously, you father's birthday would have been today. Sorry for the mix-up and all the best.
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This is the candle I light on occasion, now also for Justine (it is quite big and a light green). (Photo from yesterday.)

Machenbach wrote: "Just startling The Weather in the Streets."

Did you jump out at it and say "boo"?
(I've also just started it.)

Reen wrote: "Is it this one? This is the edition I have. I quite like the look of that brooding man in his white loafers!"

I've only just caught up with this thread, so I missed this. I'm sorry to say that I couldn't take any man seriously in those shoes! This is indeed the cover I have, but you and Bill have brought it to life for me so now I won't despise it quite so roundly.

Machenbach wrote: "The Weather in the Streets. Really enjoying this."

Me too. An Invitation to the Waltz was such a delight that I wanted to carry straight on and meet up with Olivia again. Have come to temporary halt in Part II cos of brain death, and not for any other reason. By the by, a friend pointed out to me that these are truly 'interwar' books, which is nice, I think.

Anne wrote: "a friend pointed out to me that these are truly 'interwar' books, which is nice, I think...."

Yes, I had the very same thought when you two started talking about these. Prompting me to order both. I read and enjoyed Invitation... eons ago, really looking forward to the sequel.

Georg wrote: "Shelflife_wasBooklooker wrote: "You're welcome, Cabbie!


@ Georg (in reply to what you wrote in "What are we reading?")

Regarding lighting candles, the church bells here are still ringing every e..."
There is another death day in March - a literary one - Terry Pratchett died on the 12th of March 2015

I have picked up The Weather in the Streets again after getting into a pickle reading several books at one go. I'm now fully immersed again and loving it. Should MB be reading here (I should really have responded to you on this thread in the first place), I would say that the middle section is fantastic. I normally have quite a low tolerance for this sort of thing, but it's so well done here that I'm alert to every word. Of course, I don't know how long the section is going to last 'cos I'm reading it on Internet Archive and I can't easily scroll forwards, so it may be that my enthusiasm will wane when the full extent of this section becomes clear to me! As an aside, I don't know how people manage with e-readers when they want to find a passage previously read in a book. I can never find anything and I've given up even trying. Paper books are so much more satisfying on this score.

Anne wrote: "I have picked up The Weather in the Streets again after getting into a pickle reading several books at one go. I'm now fully immersed again and loving it. Should MB be reading here (I should really..."

I use the Kindle app on my iPad. One of the features is that you can highlight passages - in a range of colours - and then if you wish export them. And there is an electronic bookmark. I know nothing about Internet Archive, I'm afraid.

Magrat wrote: "I use the Kindle app on my iPad. One of the features is that you can highlight passages - in a range of colours - and then if you wish export them. And there is an electronic bookmark ..."

I've been using a Kindle given me by a friend who bought themselves a new one. I haven't found any function on it except for reading in a straight line from A to B! I have just got a new iPad and I do have the Kindle app on it. I'll follow your advice and have a play on it. Thanks.

(Hope you're all well, by the way. It's a long time since we've spoken.)

I recently finished 'Palace Walk' by Naguib Mahfouz, another of Justine's recommendations (an endless source of inspiration!).

It was really good - just the kind of family-centred saga, set during a time of transition in a society (in this case, Egypt immediately post-WW1) that I love. The characters are complex and fully realised, the feeling of Cairo in the period is beautifully evoked, and Mahfouz is excellent at letting the the political and historic context build naturally, rather than forcing unnatural speeches into characters' mouths or doing masses of exposition.

Thoroughly recommended, and I'll be reading the rest of the Cairo Trilogy. Thanks, Justine!

Machenbach wrote: "Just a quick note to say how much I enjoyed The Weather in the Streets, Lehmann's brilliant depiction of the love affair between Olivia Curtis, a separated (but not divorced) and som..."

Damn, I'm anxious to read this! I ordered TWitS (along with Invitation to a Waltz, which I read previously) when you and Anne first queued it up. But I stupidly had it shipped to Portland rather than Seattle. Just another reason to get my tail in gear and head south.

Great write-up, mach, with excerpts and images too!

Anne wrote: "I have picked up The Weather in the Streets again after getting into a pickle reading several books at one go. I'm now fully immersed again and loving it. Should MB be reading here (I should really..."


I don't know if you can do it on a kindle but on my Kobo there is a search (in book, dictionary, current read, annotations, store) if I use that and type in a few words of the sentence it will reveal the text. Highlights are good if you remember to make them at the tiime!

Lljones wrote: "Machenbach wrote: "Just a quick note to say how much I enjoyed The Weather in the Streets, Lehmann's brilliant depiction of the love affair between Olivia Curtis, a separated (but no..."

I'm expecting them in the post any day now, good to know they are en route to you somewhere, ha.

Will be thinking of Justine tomorrow morning Llj. You've been so dignified in your perseverance here with all that's happened.

Machenbach wrote: "Just a quick note to say how much I enjoyed The Weather in the Streets..."

I have to read Silas Marner for a book group on Monday and have some non-book stuff to do too. I'll get back to thinking about Lehmann next week, and hopefully post something then. In the meantime, have an invisible uptick.

Just to echo what Reen has said so well, Lisa. You've been amazing.
I'll be there in spirit tomorrow morning.

giveusaclue wrote: "I don't know if you can do it on a kindle but on my Kobo there is a search (in book, dictionary, current read, annotations, store) if I use that and type in a few words of the sentence it will reveal the text. Highlights are good if you remember to make them at the tiime!"

Thank you, 'clue. I will check to see if I've overlooked the search function. Highlighting is a good tip. I really must learn how to do that, if nothing else!

Anne wrote: "Thank you, 'clue. I will check to see if I've overlooked the search function. Highlighting is a good tip. I really must learn how to do that, if nothing else!"

Do let me know how you get on.

Anne wrote: "Just to echo what Reen has said so well, Lisa. You've been amazing.
I'll be there in spirit tomorrow morning."


Thank you, Reen and Anne. We'll all be thinking of our dear friend in just a few hours.

I see that In Love by Alfred Hayes is mentioned in the heading here. I don’t recall Justine mentioning that, though I do remember her praising his Hollywood novel My Face for the World to See back in the Guardian days, a review which brought this writer to my attention. I’ve just read both books, as well as the third of the sort-of-trilogy, The End of Me, all published by NYRB. They are loosely connected by being narrated by a writer, unnamed in the first two, identified as Asher in the last. Biographical details differ a bit, so they’re not the same character, but if you squint a little, they’re close enough.

The narrator in each of the three novels is at a different stage of his career: in In Love, a writer in New York not yet well established, in My Face for the World to See a successful screenwriter in Hollywood (with a wife back in New York) somewhat disdainful of the profession which earns him a large salary, and in The End of Me a washed-up screenwriter, returned to New York after the failure of his second marriage.

All three books concern the narrator’s relationship with a younger woman; the narrators get older – late 30s to late 50s – the women get younger – mid 20s to early 20s. But the books don’t indulge in the kind of geriatric-stud dick-swinging some male writers of Hayes’ generation went for as they grew older; the relationships seem real rather than fantasized, growing out of the needs and flaws of both members of the couples. Given this common characteristic, Hayes managed to write three very different novels, each with a unique subtext.

In Love is about the rocky course of a love affair; the man and woman claim to love each other, but the woman, a divorced mother, needs financial as well as emotional security, at least one of which, possibly both, the man is unable to provide. In the narrator’s absence, on a night out with friends the woman meets Howard, a wealthy divorced businessman who offers her a sizable sum to sleep with her; some reviewers say that this is the basis of the film Indecent Proposal, but in the novel it’s more a symbol than a plot device. Howard is interested in the woman, but lacking basic relationship skills, uses money as a substitute. As the woman navigates between the two men, the narrator is left to try to read from his limited perspective what course the relationship is actual taking.

My Face for the World to See begins with the narrator saving a woman from drowning – it’s never clearly stated that it was a suicide attempt, though the odds look increasingly likely as the story progresses. She’s an aspiring actress and, as the relationship develops, we learn she is seeing a psychiatrist, who has taken her as a kind of charity case, for a fairly serious case of paranoia which, at present, she apparently recognizes as a delusion. The woman’s mental illness is presented as very much related to her search for cinematic fame, and the novel presents Hollywood as a kind of corrupting influence on everyone that serves or seeks to serve it; for those in the system, the failure and success it deals out comes to seem a kind of damnation or divine justification, the ultimate judgment on their human worth. This is really subtly done as the novel throughout its short length concentrates on the man and woman, their relationship, and her psychological frailty; the indictment of a system and a way of life somehow slips in between the words on the page only to hit one at the end.

If failure in Hollywood is damnation, The End of Me is narrated by one of the damned. The studios have stopped returning Asher’s calls and, after observing his wife in flagrante he returns to his hometown, New York City, with money in the bank but no prospects. What he finds is a city greatly changed from his younger days and in the relentless process of changing further. An elderly aunt connects him with his young cousin, Michael, an aspiring poet living, needless to say, in poverty in lower Manhattan. There’s an instant mutual antagonism between Asher and Michael , but nevertheless, Asher, needing an audience for his reminiscences about life in a vanished city, hires Michael for $50 a week to accompany him on his walks around the city. As in the earlier book, a financial arrangement substitutes for an emotional connection, and his cousin remains disdainful of his older relative.

The woman here is Aurora, Michael’s girlfriend, with whom Asher forms a separate relationship, though she remains Michael’s girl and her relationship with Asher is chaste, limited to meals and conversation, not, one gathers, entirely to Asher’s satisfaction. Though she seems responsive to Asher’s emotional openness, it’s never clear whose side Aurora is on in the ongoing cold war between Asher and Michael.

My reading of this differs somewhat from other assessments I’ve read, both from the peanut gallery on Goodreads and from stiletto-sharp critics like Vivian Gornick. I see the book as primarily about generational conflict and Asher’s inevitable obsolescence as a result of age. Though it’s never explicitly said, I suspect his falling out of favor in Hollywood is due to a mid-60s trend to look for younger talent that will appeal to a youthful audience. Back in New York, he finds the city undergoing alterations to better fit its future inhabitants. In Michael he finds the hostility and inimical nature of the future incarnate. The title hints at a more fatal ending than the novel actually delivers, but I closed it feeling that the inevitable message of the young to the old is, “We will bury you.”

Bill wrote: "
I see that In Love by Alfred Hayes is mentioned in th..."

Thanks for these interesting reviews - another author added to the increasingly high (but virtual) TBR list!

Machenbach wrote: "Just a quick note to say how much I enjoyed The Weather in the Streets, Lehmann's brilliant depiction of the love affair between Olivia Curtis, a separated (but not divorced) and som..."

Thanks for that interesting and tempting review.

'Self-observation' is a fascinating subject for authors, from the destructive 'evil eye' which freezes the protagonist and makes it almost impossible to act, to the complete fakery of the actor who can't readily distinguish if he is behaving sincerely, or merely 'performing' in his own life story, as in Kean

Edit: That link to Sartre's adaptation of a play by Alexandre Dumas père oddly goes to a Spanish (?) edition - sorry. I don't know if Sartre's subject matter - which was definitely to do with whether one behaves in an authentic manner, or whether one's life is but an act - reflects the original.
This link provides an idea of what it's about:https://www.thisistheatre.com/londons...

Machenbach wrote: "I never liked Silas Marner, 'though I was young and dumb when I read it. Now that I'm old and dumb I may think differently ..."

I also did not like Silas Marner when I had to read it at school. Everything else George Eliot - fine, Middlemarch is one of my all-time favourites, but I've never been able to bring myself to read Silas Marner again.

I'm on Anne's side re Silas Marner - I was very moved by it, decades ago. I've added it to the (towering) re-read pile.

Machenbach wrote: "scarletnoir wrote: "'Self-observation' is a fascinating subject for authors, from the destructive 'evil eye' which freezes the protagonist and makes it almost impossible to act, to the complete fak..."

I think the point Sartre is making in Kean is rather different to the issues you mention - in effect, it's that Kean just can't help himself from hamming it up and being melodramatic in his life, as if he was still performing on stage - without actually feeling the emotions he is portraying. It's part of who he is. From memory, he comes to realise what an idiot he is being towards the end of the play - but I read it ages ago, so...

I haven't forgotten about Rosamond Lehmann, but it's been a bad week so please bear with me a little longer.

Silas Marner stayed wonderful to the end. About Gaskell: I had to do North and South for A Level, and whilst I didn't hate it, I was never more than lukewarm, so have never gone back to her. I really enjoyed a TV version I caught of Wives and Daughters a few years ago though and fancy having a crack at that some day.

The elephant and company have just arrived at Valladolid: Really enjoying The Elephant's Journey so far, as did AlbyBeliever and Machenbach and LlJones earlier.
(I am now slightly more than halfway into the novel.)

I believe that inter/ Justine might have liked the following passage featuring a sensible witch, too. It reminds me of her humour and her chalk circles - and not least her calm attitude to occasional flareups.

The discussion will be a stormy one, as is only to be expected among people not much given to exercising their reason, men and women who come to blows over the slightest thing, even when, as in this case, they are trying to decide on the pious task of how best to carry their pastor back to his house and put him to bed. The priest will not be of much help in settling the dispute because he will fall into a torpor that will be a cause of great concern to everyone, except the local witch, Don't worry, she said, there are no signs of imminent death, not today or tomorrow, and nothing that can't be put right by a few vigorous massages of the affected parts and some herbal tea to purify the blood and avoid corruption, meanwhile, stop this bickering, it will only end in tears, all you need do is to take turns carrying him and change places every fifty paces, that way friendship will prevail.

And the witch was quite right.

I can only agree with others here (and, I am sure, elsewhere) that inter/ Justine is much missed.

The passage quoted is taken from this (dodgy?) online page: https://www.you-books.com/book/J-Sara...
In my German-language edition, translated with a suitable light touch by Marianne Gareis, , this episode is narrated on page 80.

inter/ Justine was very interested in visual culture, as I found out early in my time at TL&S, when we were discussing the cinematic qualities of Dickens's fiction. She might have liked this late fifteenth-century depiction of an elephant, too (a cute one, isn't it?):



Woodcut from Hortus sanitatis ("Book of Health", a natural history encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hortus_..., printed in Straßburg, 1497)
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Edit: Finished this journey and enjoyed it up to the end. (If feeling a pang at the ending.)

Thank you, inter/ Justine.

I’ve had a copy of Their Eyes Were Watching God for many years, but have never gotten around to reading it before. I think the title put me off somewhat, and the setting in rural Florida wasn’t especially appealing; only the novel’s reputation kept it on my TBR list. Well now I’ve read it and, though it took me a day (during which I read only about a quarter of the book, which is less than 200 pages) to really get into it, in the end I thought it very well done, though as often happens with widely beloved books I find myself bothered by an aspect of the novel that other readers do not seem to have commented on, or perhaps even considered.

The novel impresses as a stylistic tour de force - simultaneously poetically sophisticated and grounded in vernacular speech and imagery drawn from daily life. It’s also pretty dialogue-heavy and I at first had a problem with the exclusive use of dialect in passages of direct speech (for instance the use of “Ah” every time “I” was intended by the speaker), but Hurston’s full and consistent commitment to it eventually won me over. Tea Cake is a wonderfully imagined character – with both virtues and vices, he is totally convincing as the object of Janie’s affections.

(view spoiler)[The story of Janie Starks and Tea Cake is tragic in its trajectory, yet for me it did not quite achieve tragedy: there is little sense of a relentless fate being played out nor any sort of catharsis.

A running theme in the novel concerns how Janie escapes from and rejects the life planned for her by her grandmother who raised her. Janie, and based on Mary Helen Washington’s introduction many modern readers, see this as an act of liberation. But what isn’t mentioned in the book (nor in Washington’s introduction) is a basic difference between Janie’s adult experience and that of her grandmother and mother: the bearing of children.

Much of her grandmother’s caution in wanting to see Janie respectably married seemed to me centered on having her granddaughter avoid becoming involved with a ne’er-do-well who would abandon her when she became pregnant, the fate that ruined Janie’s mother.

Janie’s apparent infertility seems to me a fundamental factor in her sense of freedom and self-possession, but the novel doesn’t make a point of this element, which is rather exceptional. Janie is in her forties by the end of the novel but neither she nor any of her three husbands nor acquaintances mention or even allude to the fact of her childlessness. (hide spoiler)]

Bill wrote: "
I’ve had a copy of Their Eyes Were Watching God for many years, but have never gotten around to reading it before. I think the title put ..."

Bill wrote: "
I’ve had a copy of Their Eyes Were Watching God for many years, but have never gotten around to reading it before. I think the title put ..."

Bill wrote: "
I’ve had a copy of Their Eyes Were Watching God for many years, but have never gotten around to reading it before. I think the title put ..."
*Spoiler Alert*
Good point, I must admit that the fact there were no children passed me by. Then again that would have made another story perhaps?

I finally got around to reading A Single Man. Justine kind of sold this to me by calling it a campus novel, and indeed, the protagonist George spends part of his day teaching After Many a Summer Dies the Swan to a class of college students. To be honest, though, I wouldn’t consider it a campus novel in the way I generally apply the term – a novel in which campus life stands as the entire world of the protagonists and collegiate success or failure (as either a student, professor, or administrator) is seen as life-or-death, often in a comically exaggerated form. For George teaching is just a part of life, and not the most vital or important part.

I liked Isherwood’s novel quite a bit – very compact and well made in a way that reminded me of A Month in the Country - the action takes place over one day and, as in most novels using that conceit, the day become a synecdoche for an entire life. It was probably quite extraordinary in 1964 the way that Isherwood presents George’s homosexuality as simply part of the life he’s living, and it’s still impressive the way he uses George’s gayness to provide an important theme in the novel without becoming its dominant note.

The problem I had was that the novel reminded me too much of Ulysses, with George as a substitute for Leopold Bloom, a parallel which Isherwood had to have been consciously working with. Like Bloom, George engages in such untraditional literary behaviors as having a bowel movement (complete with reading matter – George being more high-toned, he shits reading Ruskin rather than “Matcham’s Masterstroke”) and masturbation. The parallels are even stronger by the end – George returns home with a young man with whom he makes some kind of not entirely satisfying emotional connection and who, declining an invitation to stay, leaves in the early morning hours. Isherwood even includes a brief section in the form of a mock-catechism, like Joyce’s “Ithaca” chapter. There may even be a nod to Finnegans Wake in the penultimate section, as George sleeps and enters

that consciousness which is no one in particular but which contains everyone and everything, past, present and future, and extends unbroken beyond the utmost stars.

So it’s compact and brilliant, like A Month in the Country, and I’ll never have to read Ulysses once I’ve read it? Sold and sold, my good man.

AlbyBeliever wrote: "So it’s compact and brilliant, like A Month in the Country, and I’ll never have to read Ulysses once I’ve read it? Sold and sold, my good man."

This is much like my own feeling that, having read A Dance to the Music of Time, I'll never have to read Remembrance of Things Past

Bill wrote: "I finally got around to reading A Single Man. Justine kind of sold this to me by calling it a campus novel..."

I enjoyed your review Swelter; and I'm sure inter would have too. I finished A Single Man only a few days before you did and, just like Mrs Palfrey, it was quietly devastating - although this time I knew what was coming, for I had seen the gorgeous film first.

Incidentally, there was a very relevant Top 10 on the Guardian last Wednesday, but was totally overwhelmed with work and only saw it a few days later: Top 10 novels told in a single day. This time again, the author of the piece (and of a book related to the topic) participated btl.

Hushpuppy wrote: "Incidentally, there was a very relevant Top 10 on the Guardian last Wednesday, but was totally overwhelmed with work and only saw it a few days later: Top 10 novels told in a single day."

Thanks for pointing that out. After finishing the Isherwood, I was thinking about novels with this conceit and thought of Under the Volcano and Mrs. Dalloway among those I haven't read. To the author's list I would add two I've read from Hogarth Press: Saturday Night at the Greyhound and A Day in Summer
.

I just discovered reading the latest NYRB that Mr. Phillips by John Lanchester also takes place during a single day.

Might go for Hilary Mantel's Fludd next.
Was looking for Katherine Mansfield's stories, which form part of Justine's favourites as well, but I only have a few of them which were included in an anthology. Something to amend.

Fludd is a quick and enjoyable read. Great recommendation from inter/ Justine. (Sorry about adjective overload:) It is bleak yet comical, morbid and (at this point still) full of mystery.

You might like the following quote on the convent library, too: A young nun expounds on strong-minded "St Teresa, the Little Flower".
Her partner in conversation remarks:

"You must have been studying her life."
"We have a book in the convent library."
"Is your library extensive?"
"Well, there's some lives of the saints. Oh, and a Turf Guide, that's Sister Anthony's."

Poor nuns. I think most of us here will be better off!

Shelflife_wasBooklooker wrote: "Fludd is a quick and enjoyable read. Great recommendation from inter/ Justine. (Sorry about adjective overload:) It is bleak yet comical, morbid and (at this point still) full of myst..."

You do realise that the link leads to a summary that begins thus:

One dark and stormy night...

Seriously? ;-)