This will be a short Book Club post, not because the book in question isn’t great (it is!) but because I totally ran out of time to write it. Mea culpa and all that. I originally picked Aristocrats because I thought going the non-fiction route would be a nice change of pace, and was inspired by a recent Vanity Fair issue to think about famous sisters. Afterwards, I realized that the book also provides a nice contrast to last month’s Regency romance novel, which revolved around a large extended family. The eras might not line up perfectly, but they’re close enough, and one of the things I loved about Aristocrats is the glimpse inside the personal/romantic lives of its subjects.

Before I go on, I would be remiss in not telling you that if you liked the book, you need to watch the BBC series that was based on it. The performances and set/costume design are fabulous.

What I Liked

Um, everything? Seriously, I found this to be an excellently written non-fiction book. For me, it struck the right balance of scholarly/informative and readable/enjoyable. I especially enjoyed the psychological portraits of each of the sisters, and the fascinating insights into their day-to-day lives. Some things — OK, a lot of things — boggled my mind.

Emily and Kildare had 19 children; that’s Duggar territory, and Emily had a whole OTHER life after her first husband died; even with all the help that she would have had as a member of the aristocracy, I can’t begin to imagine the challenges of that sort of life.

Although at least two of the sisters married for love (or largely for love) in the first instance, and had happy marriages by the standards of the day, extramarital affairs (on the husbands’ parts, natch) were still a regular occurence … and did not render those marriages any less successful, for lack of a better word.

The treatment that Sarah received prior to, during, and immediately after her first marriage, at the hands of everyone around her including herself, made me both angry and immensely sad. In fact, there were many aspects of the sisters’ lives, resulting from the ingrained patriarchy of the time, that tested my resolve to not judge people so far removed from my own time and social mores. (Then again, with cases like that of the Stanford rapist so often in the news these days, maybe our culture does not have the moral high ground anyway.) On a smaller scale, this book was eye-opening and informative in the same way as Antonia Fraser’s The Weaker Vessel, which detailed the lives and “lot” of women in 17th Century England (so, about a century earlier than the Aristocrats). Needless to say, I would heartily recommend both books.

What I Didn’t Like

As I mentioned above, some of the things that happened to the Lennox sisters made me sad and/or mad, but that is not Ms. Tilyard’s fault. I think she went out of her way to be fair to all of her subjects, including the other significant people in the sisters’ lives, which is an approach I appreciate in a biographer, even when (as a reader) I am not always able to maintain that same detachment.

Your turn: what did you think of Aristocrats?

For next month’s Book Club, I’m a little bit stumped. I am heading into a three week long hearing at work, and I am still trying to finish writing my third book, so realistically I won’t have much time for “fun” reading in July. Instead of setting myself up for inevitable failure, let’s call it a “freebie” month: read a book of your choice, and then share your thoughts with us in the comment section of the next Book Club post, which will go up on July 29, 2016. In return, I will happily answer your questions, book-related or otherwise, in that July 29 post. Feel free to leave your questions here or to email them to me directly over the course of the month.

[By the way, if you’re not sure what book(s) to read this month, I have a couple of suggestions for you. As an early birthday celebration, I have dropped the prices on my first two books for the month of July. You can find Archer & Bell ($2.99) and Gresham Park ($0.99) on Amazon, available for download on Kindle or any mobile devices.]

Happy reading!

So, here’s the deal: I’m writing another novel.

Now, you might be thinking: why? (If you’ve read Archer & Bell and Gresham Park, I hope that’s not your first thought, but I digress.) And the answer to that is simple: because I’m the kind of masochist who enjoys spending innumerable hours of precious free time engaged in a frustrating and entirely uncompensated endeavor. Well, maybe not entirely uncompensated; I do get the satisfaction of calling myself a writer, and of knowing that occasionally, another person is reading the very words that came out of my brain. That is super cool.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

As a self-published author, the most frustrating experience is the feeling that your work is getting lost in a sea of other books, waiting to find its audience – which may never actually materialize. Amazon is a great platform for getting your stuff out there, but maybe not so great for building an audience out of thin air. On the other hand, this blog has an audience … the problem being, it’s not necessarily an audience that’s interested in (a) books, and (b) my books. I know some of you are book lovers, but that’s obviously not what brought you here in the first place. So I have been reluctant to rely too much on the blog as a platform for spreading the word about my writing, especially in a monetized context. And then, I had an idea.

What if, instead of going the same old Amazon publishing route for my new novel, I publish it here – in a free, weekly serial format? Of course, I need to figure out how to actually do that, but I trust that my crack IT team (aka dear husband) will be able to make it happen. So I’m asking you (and especially those of you who have bought my previous books): would you be interested in something like that? The formatting of each chapter is likely to be less fancy than the e-copy that would be available on Amazon, and you’d be getting the story in pieces. On the plus side, it will be free, and I promise to keep the blog business as usual otherwise. Tell me all your thoughts, gently if you please.

To help you decide, if you’re on the fence about the whole idea, here’s a little taste of what you can expect to read (most likely starting in August):

London, 1948 – in a world not entirely unlike this one …

When Kate Seever finds herself unexpectedly out of a job, she loses no time in looking for other employment. For a young woman in Kate’s position – unmarried and not independently wealthy – it is a practical necessity. But for a young woman of Kate’s disposition, it is also an opportunity. Despite an unwavering belief in the supremacy of reason and order, she harbours a secret – and not so rational – penchant for the sort of adventure apt to turn a person’s life upside down. The position of governess at Ushant Hall – a ruinous pile in the middle of a bleak, windswept moor, miles away from London – does not seem promising but, to her friends’ consternation, Kate decides that it is precisely the sort of challenge she enjoys tackling. Besides, it is merely a temporary engagement; what could possible go wrong in three months?

The answer, it turns out, is plenty. At Ushant Hall, the ancient seat of the reclusive Blackthorne family, Kate quickly discovers that she may have gotten more than she’d bargained for; it will take a rigorous exercise of her wits to manage the peculiar inhabitants of the house, including the strangely antagonistic caretaker, the taciturn groundskeeper, and the preternaturally precocious pupil she had been hired to instruct. Most of all, it is the master of Ushant Hall himself – the aloof, haughty, distractingly handsome Rufus Blackthorne – who proves to be the most difficult challenge of all. And then, of course, there is the question that no one seems to want to answer: just what, exactly, is hidden in the attic?

Obviously, if there is minimal interest in a weekly serial, I probably won’t go to the trouble of trying to set up a corner of the blog to accommodate it, and we’ll just pretend this whole conversation never happened. But if you are even a little bit intrigued, let me know and let’s make it happen!

Here’s this month’s book club confession: I’m not much of a Bronte fan. Sacrilege, I know. I can say I’ve read Jane Eyre only in a general sense (mostly the beginning and the end, a few times), and I strongly disliked Wuthering Heights when I read it twenty years ago — enough to never wish to revisit it. As for the rest of the Bronte sisters’ oeuvre, I am familiar with it in name only, which is kind of inevitable for anyone who loves 19th century lit (which I do). Now, with all that said, Cold Comfort Farm — which gives more than a passing nod to the Brontes — was and is a delight to read. I’ve always been a fan of writers who keep their tongue firmly in cheek, so that’s probably why I appreciate Stella Gibbons’ classic comic gem.

Now, if you’ve read along this month, you will know that Cold Comfort Farm also owes a huge debt of inspiration to Jane Austen’s Emma … coincidentally, one of my least favourite Austen heroines. (Although I have a soft spot for her incarnation as Cher Horowitz.) Even as a teen, I found Emma’s interfering ways incredibly annoying, and the older I get, the less patience I have for them. God bless Mr. Knightley. Anyway, transposed to the gothic background of Cold Comfort Farm, the antics seem less pesky, mostly because the Starkadders do legitimately need some sorting out. More on that in a moment. There is a variety of romantic sub-plots to the story, but they’re not really the focus and are all rather perfunctory. The genius of the book lies in the descriptions of each of the (secondary) characters and their respective manias — they’re described to great comic effect but without cruelty, in a way that makes you want to root for each of the characters and their individual happiness. Which is why, in the end, Flora Poste is more likeable (to me) than Emma — she manages to steer everyone to their Happily Ever After (not necessarily with a partner, although there is at least one big wedding).

What I loved

The premise and the entire cast of characters is perfect, especially as a gentle parody of a certain kind of literature. (To be clear, I don’t think Gibbons set out to parody the Brontes, Austen, etc., but rather their subsequent copycats). I loved Flora’s rapport with Mrs. Smiling, and her overall level-headedness. I also appreciated the general absence of slut-shaming, which struck me as particularly refreshing for the era in which Gibbons was writing.

The other thing I loved was the fact that the book is the reason why the delightful 1994 movie adaptation exists. I know, that’s a bit of a cheat … but I do love the movie so much. I’m not a Kate Beckinsale fan, but she was very good as Flora, and the other performances are bang on as well. (Well, Jeremy Northam should have played Charles but I can deal.) I mean, Bang. On:

If you haven’t seen the movie yet, do yourself a favour and rectify the oversight 😉

And of course, my absolute favourite part was the exchange between Aunt Ada and Mr. Neck:

Ada: I saw something nasty in the woodshed!
Mr. Neck: Yeah, baby, but did it see you?

(Note: that version comes from the movie, which I think adds an extra kick to the original dialogue — at least as it appears in my copy of the book. YMMV.)

Book club question 1: who were your favourite characters/plot points?

Book club question 2: the book is set in some unspecified future time. Do you feel that influenced the story in any way? Why do you think Gibbons chose to set it in the future?

What I didn’t like

I have only a few small quibbles. I found the Starkadders’ dialect difficult to follow on paper. (It wasn’t nearly as thick in the movie version.) I’m sure that was a deliberate stylistic choice on Gibbons’ part but it did take me out of the story at times. Also, as much as I liked Flora’s maturity, it did strike me as unrealistic for a young woman of 19 or 20. Moreover, she never made mistakes and her plans never went astray. From a psychological perspective, it made her a less plausible character than Emma, for example. I know this was supposed to be a comic novel (all the characters are stereotypes, really) but I felt like Flora’s implausible perfection veered too far into Mary Sue territory at times … and, yet, at other times, it was just right. I don’t know, I guess I’m conflicted.

Finally, the denouement between Flora and Charles seemed rather rushed and unsatisfying/not true to type (same goes for the movie).

Book club question 3: what did you like least about the book?

Book club question 4: were you disappointed that we never got to find out what nasty thing Ada saw in the shed?

OK, your turn! Please keep in mind that my suggested questions are simply that, so feel free to chat in the comments about anything you would like that’s Cold Comfort Farm-related (especially if it involves the perfection of Rufus Sewell’s cheekbones).

Next month’s book club selection is a new read for me, but I’ve heard a lot of good things about it (and the series that it kicks off), and as a dyed-in-the-wool mystery novel lover (with a weakness for British authors of the same), I’m very excited about … drum roll, please:

The Cuckoo’s Calling by Robert Galbraith

Please join me on Friday, April 29, for the book club discussion. In the meantime, happy reading!