Skip to main content

Milne-mania

When it comes to reading, I find that balance is the key. I have to follow Jane Austen with Nick Hornby, and Louisa May Alcott with Roberto Bolano, or my brain will fizzle out or I'll become convinced that the only reality is Netherfield and dances and young men dependent upon rich uncles. Sometimes, though, one can get stuck in a particular vein (eg. anything involving Greeks) and go on forever. Like mid-twentieth century middle-brow English novels. I can't explain it.

As the result of a complete and utter coincidence involving Cold Comfort Farm, I stumbled onto the blog of Simon from Stuck in a Book and have become hopelessly and embarrassingly addicted. It has:

a) confirmed of my deep and abiding love and longing for Oxford
b) allowed me a vicarious window into English life
c) introduced me the Persephone books series, in the same manner as my co-worker Jessica introduced me to the NYRBs.
d) reaffirmed old loves like Dodie Smith
e) contributed new introductions: Ivy Compton-Burnett, Tove Jansson, Stella Gibson, and A.A. Milne.

You may have thought A.A. Milne was strictly an author for children, being best known for his Winnie the Pooh books - a fact which frustrated him and dogged his son Christopher (Robin) Milne. Rather, A.A. Milne was a humorist, an essayist, a writer of plays, novels, short-stories, and of course, the Winnie-the-Pooh books (recently re-discovering by me.)

Milne's semi-autobiographical novel Two People was reprinted by Capuchin Classics and I devoured it. The protagonist, Reginald Wellard, has just - to his surprise - written a novel called Bindweed and - to his greater surprise - it is a smashing success. His beautiful and adoring wife Sylvia does not necessarily respond to this news in the way he would choose. But then again, what does he want her to say? Why does he feel dissatisfied with her fond but silly remarks?

While Reginald is being nervously and hesitantly inducted into London's literary scene, he has become aware of the discrepancies between himself and his young wife. He loves her obsessively, but becomes aware that they do not meet each other intellectually, and is horrified to find himself mentally stimulated by intelligent women. The result is a charming but honest excursion into the ups and downs of the marriage of two pleasant individuals who nonetheless may find themselves disenchanted.

Two People is a funny book - one of my favorite passages had to do with Reginald reading a critic's review of Bindweed:

"The writers did not, as they put it, seem to have heard of Mr. Reginald Wellard before. As it happened, Mr. Reginald Wellard had never heard of them before, so there was nothing in that. They opined that he wrote intelligently, and not without understanding. Mr. Wellard, reading this, opined that they also opined intelligently and not without understanding, so there was still nothing between them. They cordially hoped that Mr. Wellard would go on writing novels...and Mr. Wellard hoped that they would go on writing reviews. Things couldn't have been more friendly."

Lots of Britishisms (Hooray; Darling, I am a perfect beast, etc.), lovely provincial scenery (cats, bees, ducks), and intelligent dialogue. Wellard's doubt and overconfidence, the flux between anxiety and assurance make this ordinary novel truthful and entertaining.

The novel's drawback is that poor Sylvia is only well-regarded for her blushing bride behavior and her beauty. The novel ends with "Stay beautiful, my sweet Sylvia" and the answer: "I'll try my darling. I expect it's what I'm for." Disheartening. Regardless, Two People is a serious novel which does not take itself too seriously.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My Mad Girl

[A Question I am Not the First to Ask: What is it about women and madness? Are they more susceptible to delusion than men are? The subject of many books and hypotheses, we wonder if madness dogs the steps of creative women (eg. Anne Sexton, Sylvia Plath, Virginia Woolf, Charlotte Perkins Gilman…) Is it a biological coincidence or a recurring phenomenon? Is it socially reinforced? Do men fear the hysterical women? Is it the uterus (Greek “hysteria”) which turns the brain?] The reclusive writer, the late Janet Frame, winner of all of New Zealand’s literary prizes, spent much time in institutions and in therapy and, as far as I can tell, her novels commonly include themes of estrangement, mental health and madness. Frame considered her 1963 novel Towards Another Summer too personal be published in her lifetime. As she’d already written an autobiography ( Angel at My Table , made into a film by Jane Campion) and been this subject of several biographies, this is telling. Towards Another Su
Attention poetry mavens: any suggestions for good contemporary poets (either in general or particular collections)? Have sudden appetite but very little idea where to start. Any advice welcome!

Before I go

I'm at the airport with too many bags. A last minute weigh in required me to pull all my books out of my bags and redistribute the weight, while the service representative had to call Iceland (where I pass through en route to London), and the fifty pairs of eyes behind me glared and grew glassy. Though this morning the weather was pure, clear and copper-sunned, the fog has descended so low that the tips of the trees are nearly obliterated. This is Seattle. This is the city I know. Here's something I wrote a month or so ago, an ode to this city, its literary scene, and its inhabitants. When I graduated from a small Midwestern liberal arts college with the music degree I knew I might never use, I felt lost looking for What To Do Next. Despite the pressure I felt alongside my friends – future accountants, teachers, and doctors - to map out a life just so, a much respected professor suggested that each step in one’s life seems microscopic, a darkened footpath occasionally lit by a