strange and random happenstance

Many people, especially those of my Dad's generation, were very excited when they heard about the Perry Mason reboot. Perry Mason starring Raymond Burr was a television staple during their childhoods from 1957 to 1966. In fact Burr was so popular as Mason that they brought him back for TV movies throughout my childhood too! Now most reviews started by saying that "this isn't your father's Perry Mason" but I beg to differ, because by the end, after an initially rough pilot episode, the show found it's feet and got Parry into the courtroom defending a mother who most definitely didn't kill her child. Most people in fact were up in arms that Perry didn't start out as a lawyer and was a PI for the first few episodes. Well here's something that may shock you, yes, this series pays tribute to the original series, especially in the final episode's credits when a certain theme song is heard, but they weren't taking just from the series, they were pulling from the books. I know! Perry Mason started out in books! Erle Stanley Gardner wrote eighty books from the thirties to the sixties ranking him third in best selling book series of all time just below a certain boy wizard and Goosebumps! Also, what's fascinating about the series is that Perry as a person and in particular Perry's past isn't explored at all. We know more about his dining habits than about his personal habits. This, in my mind, made Perry perfect for a prequel if you will. And by no means is PI Perry dragged out. We learn about his family farm, his military service, his estranged wife, his child, and his struggles to make it, before becoming a lawyer. It's a good story for the early thirties and an America struggling to recover from The Great Depression. Though, as previously mentioned, the pilot is a little rocky, my guess is this is because it was written for Robert Downey Jr. to star in and it obviously had his acting quirks put into the script so when Matthew Rhys donned the mantel of Mason it took awhile to knock the Robert Downey Jr. out of the material. But I can honestly say, by the end of the first season I was grateful a second season was on the way, which I didn't initially think I would be.     

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: 1930s, And the Emmy Goes To, Erle Stanley Gardner, Family Farm, Goosebumps, Great Depression, Harry Potter, Matthew Rhys, Perry Mason, PI, Pilot, Private Eyes, Raymond Burr, Robert Downey Junior, Veteran, WWI

A Girl from Yamhill by Beverly Cleary
Published by: Yearling
Publication Date: April 22nd, 1988
Format: Paperback, 320 Pages
Rating: ★★
To Buy (different edition than one reviewed)

Long before Beverly Cleary became a household name to generations of children who love her books, she was just a girl who grew up on a farm in the small town of Yamhill, Oregon. When she was a little older her family leased the farm and moved to Portland where Beverly's life took on a more typical existence. Instead of wandering through meadows looking for wildflowers, she had school and friends. She was a voracious reader and one of her greatest joys was graduating eighth grade and getting an adult library card. Growing up during the Great Depression with stresses at home with her father scraping by on work that was unsatisfactory and a mother that was controlling, Beverly escaped into the world of books and soon showed a talent for writing herself. While she was encouraged in her scholarly pursuits, her mother tried to maintain a firm grasp on the shape of Beverly's life, even guilt-tripping Beverly into a chaste relationship with a man named Gerhart for many years. If Beverly's mother had had her way Beverly would have ended up just like her, a frustrated housewife with ambitions of having been a writer, luckily for her, and us, things turned out differently.

When I was in sixth grade I became more then a little addicted to the Scholastic Book order forms we'd get at school. Prior to sixth grade I'd order a poster or two, most likely of a cat, maybe a book, but in sixth grade I started to pour over them with religious fervor, trying to pick just which books I wanted. My parents were accommodating, there weren't may bookstores in town and the fact that I showed an interest in reading beyond my few books I'd read at least a hundred times made their publishing hearts happy. The core of my book collection is still all these books I ordered from Scholastic, from Beverly Cleary to Judy Blume. But when I discovered Roald Dahl's Matilda, many of these books languished on my shelves. I spent most of sixth grade reading and re-reading Matilda, secreted in my desk at the back of the classroom near the sink. A Girl from Yamhill was one of these books that was brushed aside for Matilda. I have a vague recollection that I was sad it was a biography, and put it on my shelf to wait. Interestingly enough at some point my grandmother must have taken it down and started to read it. How could I intuit this almost thirty years later? My grandmother had a habit of using whatever was to hand to use as a bookmark and about a third of the way through this book I found a Queen of Hearts playing card. While not her common Halls wrapper, a playing card was as sure a sign she had been there as an "x" on a treasure map. She must have abandoned the book, and, seeing the book from her jaded POV I can see why. It's simplistic, lacks depth, and at times can be deathly boring. But there's something there that still makes it worthwhile.

The key aspect that I needed to keep in mind while reading A Girl from Yamhill was who Beverly Cleary's audience is. I mean, it should be obvious because I ordered this book from Scholastic in sixth grade, but it's easy to forget that her writing is aimed at children or adults who grew up on her books and have a fondness for her writing style. If, like me, you haven't read any of her books in years and are expecting some amazing depth or insight with this book you are sadly mistaken as to what kind of book you are about to read. It isn't entirely simplistic, but the prose are straightforward and almost stark. She lays things out simply and tells her story without embellishment, and this leads to a lack of depth. But likewise this means that anyone can pick it up and read it and find something to connect with. Cleary also sticks to incidents that would be universal to her readers while having the barest framework of the historical era. She talks about struggles with her parents and touches on money problems they had without going into too much depth about the Depression. She has the typical worries of all kids, will she like school, what about friends, what about boys. She sets out her life to be relatable while also telling how she became a writer. Though I wish I had known going in that it's the second volume of her biography that deals with her writing career. Perhaps that's why A Girl from Yamhill starts to flag at the end? Maybe she was saving up the good stories for the next volume and just resorted to bland entries in her diary to sum up this section of her life. Why else would anyone resort to the sloppy writing of "looking in my diary"?

Overall it's the unflinching honesty that makes this book unique. She doesn't sugarcoat her life. Bad and good things happen and she doesn't hesitate to mention them. This is most seen in her relationship with her Mother. I have a feeling that Mrs. Bunn and Norma Bates would get on rather well. They both have a clinging need to be the center of their child's life, they aren't overly demonstrative with affection, and are just plain nightmares to live with. Beverly's mother has a pathological need to live vicariously through Beverly, whether it's in managing her friends, her boyfriend, her parties, or her "accomplishments" from dancing to the piano, whatever her mother says goes. She is a tyrant. Beverly has almost no say in her life and you can feel her yearning to break free. If it wasn't for her father laying down the law and saying that Beverly was going to go to California for college I don't think she would have ever broken free from her mother. The creepiest thing though is her mother's diary. Only, her mother doesn't write her own day to day exploits, oh no, she writes her daughter's dairy. Which she keeps secret from Beverly. This is just, what is she, psychotic? It's almost too creepy to discuss. I think at this point even Norma Bates would be shying away from Mrs. Bunn. There's being a controlling parent, and then there's this, whatever this is. In Beverly's defense, at least she didn't try to make her mother a saint and she didn't kill her like Norman Bates.

The one aspect of the book though that makes me question that Beverly is always unfailingly honest is the prophetic nature of her life. With teachers as early as grade school telling her to be a writer. I think the first mention is in third grade. I can get behind high school teachers advising her on her talents, she did so much writing for the paper and even wrote the school play, then it makes sense that her abilities would be commented on. A grade school teacher, when she's barely started to write telling her? Um, no. It's fairly obvious that she wanted to be a writer her whole life, despite saying that she wasn't sure what direction her life was going. So she foisted this belief onto other people so that she could be uncertain about her future, which most of her young readers would relate to, while at the same time laying down the law that a writer she was going to be. This felt all just too pretentious. Like a higher being shined a light from the sky and said "Beverly Bunn YOU ARE A WRITER!" Yes everyone might have a calling, something they are good at. But she just made too big a deal about this and I can't get behind the propaganda of it. Sure, it might have been inevitable. Was it prophesized? No. Not at all. If her mother had had her way Beverly would have been a homemaker, and NOTHING is set in stone. It just worked out and Beverly seems to think this was fate. Sigh.

The real question I wonder though is is A Girl from Yamhill still relatable to kids growing up today? I don't think it is. My generation is the last generation to grow up with kids running wild in the streets with their bikes akimbo on the playground as they played till dusk. There is a lack of freedom and a focus on technology that today's kids grow up with. To read about someone growing up during the depression when school concentrated on penmanship and how to diagram a sentence, it might as well be a foreign language. Personally, I think it's more important then ever to make kids read books like this because they can relate to some of the struggles but it is also a more tangible, understandable, history lesson. This is what the world was like not too long ago before everyone had cellphones when having a private phone line to your house was a luxury. I can relate to the book because it's the world my grandparents and my parents and to an extent myself, grew up in. The world is just changing so fast that we need to look back to a time when things seemed slower. But more importantly, you see the maxim of history being doomed to repeat itself, think of the Depression and our current recession... they are very similar, if decades apart. Kids today need a little wake up call.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: A Girl from Yamhill, Autobiography, Beverly Bunn, Beverly Cleary, Cats, Grandmother, Great Depression, Judy Blume, Matilda, Nora Bates, Norman Bates, Oregon, Portland, Roald Dahl, Writer

The Cavendon Women by Barbara Taylor Bradford
Published by: St. Martin's Press
Publication Date: March 24th, 2015
Format: Hardcover, 448 Pages
Rating: ★★★
To Buy

Last we saw the Inghams and Swanns they were drifting apart, especially Miles and Cecily. Miles had just told Cecily that despite their plans he must marry for duty, not love, as the unexpected heir of Cavendon. In the intervening years Miles has grown more unhappy in a marriage that is a sham, and the chances of an heir with his wife are now nonexistent. Meanwhile Cecily Swann has made herself a household name with her sense of style and her line of clothes and accessories. But the time has come for the disparate members of these two intertwining clans to come together. Miles's father, the Earl of Mowbray, has called the family back to the ancestral pile under the auspices of a family reunion, when in fact it's for his wedding. For all the years the Swanns have served the Inghams there has never been an officially sanctioned romantic alliance between the two; that is about to change. The Earl is set to marry Charlotte Swann, the love of his life.

From Miles and Cecily's point of view this marriage changes everything. Perhaps with the removal of a certain unwanted wife they might get their happily ever after? But Miles and Cecily aren't the only ones looking for love, three of the four Cavendon Dees have not had the best of luck with their love lives and hopefully that is about to change. Dierdre has caught the eye of the American business partner of her brother-in-law, Dulcie has a thing with England's most famous actor, while DeLacy, still licking her wounds from her divorce, has aroused the interest of her mother's sexually voracious husband as well as a famous painter he commissioned to paint her. But sorting out their love lives is one thing, sorting out the financial crisis facing Cavendon and the world is another. Can the Cavendon luck hold out with the help of the faithful Swanns?

When I finished the first book in this series, Cavendon Hall, I openly questioned whether a second volume would work given that what drove the first book was resolved. I of course speak of the continuing danger posed to Lady Daphne from her rapist, who was subsequently killed in World War I. The book worked because of the danger, not to the house, but the menace in the woods that threatened the womenfolk and virtually emanated off the page. I'm sorry, but worrying about the roof of the north wing collapsing or a burst pipe in a bathroom doesn't offer the same sort of tension. Bradford tried to recapture some of this feeling with the Dees's step-father, Dr. Lawrence Pierce. While Pierce had great potential with his womanizing ways and his lust for making DeLacy his conquest, he never became as dangerous as he could have been. I can see him as a Jack the Ripper type character that offs his paramours after he is finished with them, but instead we have only one lackluster murder to lay at his door. And he even made it look like a heart attack. How lame is that?

But this volume seemed more concerned with everyone overcoming the odds and being happy and beautiful with everything working out just right because that's how it's supposed to be instead of creating a plot or any driving force to the narrative. This is like Downton Abbey on happy pills where everyone sits around in a luxuriously appointed room complimenting each other on how pretty and lucky they are. "I'm so pretty and happy! How are you, oh the same darling? Fabulous." It's not that it's not a happy getaway from any semblance of reality, because there is that aspect, it's just that after awhile it's so much sameness that you, as the reader, could be writing it. Sip some tea, comment on how talented they all are, have a false alarm about loosing the house, and back to fabulous. This sameness is problematic when it comes to differentiating the Dees. Firstly, naming all your daughters with "D" names is so very lame I want to puke. But more than that, it's hard to distinguish them because they are pretty much the same. I actually created new names for them all, and I don't think Bradford would like her characters being labelled by their character traits, I know lesbian, I mean Dierdre, would probably agree.

What I found worrying about the characters in this volume was that while the Inghams and the Swanns have this immutable bond the rest of the world can go to hell in their eyes. They ruthlessly fire any staff that isn't a Swann by birth or by marriage. I'm sorry, but is it just me who views this as rather heartless? They really aren't that badly off and manage to come through everything OK but during this time of economic depression they close ranks and push people, whose only fault is that they aren't a Swann, out into the cold cruel world. What with their love of their looks and their exclusivity these two families aren't coming across as people you'd want to spend your time with, they're coming across as "mean girls." They are totally the rich clique at school wearing Lacoste who you avoided because they were so mean and vicious about everything from your hair to your clothes. In fact, getting onto that whole clothes angle... Cecily is setting all the trends and making sure her friends have the best clothes while customers have to wait. Yeah, they really are an evil clique. So why do we like reading about them? Is it because we always wanted to be on the inside looking out? Oh dear, I'm really starting to question why I like this book.   

Getting away from the characters and onto Bradfords writing style, I find it very haphazard. She's SO SPECIFIC about certain things but can't be bothered about others. Yes, she might have her knowledge base she's drawing on, but the least she could do is try right? You've by now guessed that there has to be one specific moment that made this dawn on me, and oh yes, there was. Bradford luxuriates in her details about the clothes Cecily designs, lavishing detail on everything from Juliet caps, which Cecily made popular, to the fur edging on a cape, so white and warm! So what happens when another artistic field is ventured into? Say painting. Let's tackle Travers Merton shall we? He's the artist Lawrence Pierce hires to paint DeLacy in his ongoing seduction only to have Merton steal DeLacy from his grasp. So Merton obviously has a studio, "the studio was a spacious room with big windows at one end, and filled with with perfect light." So what is perfect light? "Just the kind of light a painter required, and couldn't work without." Oh? So is that North facing windows or what? Cause I'd really like to recreate this perfection in my own studio space. Gaw. If you're going to be that vague just don't even mention the light at all. Or at least tone down the descriptions of the clothes to even it out.

The clothes and Cecily are actually a problem for me. The kind of big problem that keeps getting bigger. Her success is just booming. Like incomprehensibly booming. Yes, she's a smart business woman to capitalize on her success, much like Brandford's other famous heroine and Cecily's friend, Emma Harte, has done. But there comes a point when how much is too much? She has bags that are more coveted than Birkin, a wedding boutique, and a whole line of Cavendon knock-off jewellery. In fact, it's at the jewellery that I really went, enough is enough. It's like Cecily is trying to capitalize on her success like PBS off Downton Abbey. There's just a tipping point, and with the merchandising of Downton Abbey for me it was when they started doing jewellery. Since then they have expanded to cooking kits, wrapping paper, teas, hats, you name it. There's such a thing as oversaturation and while I've totally reached that point with the Downton Abbey merchandising, I have also reached that point with the glittering career of Cecily Swann. I'm actually looking forward to the next installment, seeing as this book ended with the stock market crash that triggered the great depression. How will her jewellry go over with the masses when there's not enough money to put bread on the table? I just want her to be knocked down to earth. Just a little. Because perfection isn't perfection without a little flaw to set it off. I want to see Cecily's flaw.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Barbara Taylor Bradford, Cavendon Hall, Downton Abbey, Downton Denial, Emma Harte, Great Depression, Inghams, Marriage, Mean Girls, Merchandise, Murder, Painter, Servants, Shallow, Swanns, The Cavendon Woemn, WWI