Book review – Verily Anderson – “Spam Tomorrow” @DeanStPress #FurrowedMiddlebrow


It’s time to veer away from All Virago / All August and 20 Books of Summer to enjoy and celebrate another mid-century wonder, very kindly sent to me by Dean Street Press from their Furrowed Middlebrow imprint for review. Furrowed Middlebrow (also a blog) is a lovely celebration of women’s mid-century writing, picking up unusual and out-of-print books that haven’t been reprinted by Persephone or Virago, often slimmer volumes, and they have such an attractive cover style, with the house frame and then an original cover or print.

Verily Anderson – “Spam Tomorrow”

(17 June 2019)

You’ll have to read the book to find out why the author was called Verily and why her siblings also had unusual names – although this is primarily a WW2 memoir, we are taken back through her lifetime up until her wedding day before moving forward again.

Elizabeth Bowen apparently praised this 1956 volume for being one of the first to explore women’s lives in wartime. We’re more used now to all the social history that’s come out, all those Mass Observation diaries and books about the Home Front, but this would have been very revolutionary in its day, and we’re not spared the details of pregnancy, birth, babies, housekeeping and anxious care of one’s own and one’s family’s health at the time just before antibiotics came in. It’s a vivid (but never graphic, although bomb damage and upset children are described) account of life on the home front, told with a humorous and light touch overall, but with depth.

Anderson writes with a slightly flat and detached tone, almost naive – if you like Barbara Comyns, Dodie Smith, Elizabeth Eliot et al. then you’re going to love this. Although it’s very funny in places, there are some real struggles, some glossed over (being too ill to attend her first child’s christening party) and an awareness that

At any moment might come a fork in the road.

– with her path either leading to quiet domesticity or the very real prospect of invasion. At one point, she’s so low that she feels “There was no place for spring” but there’s always a friend or family member or an incident to cheer, and she also draws solace from nature. Her family is a comfort, even though pretty eccentric: this description of a sister and her trousseau:

Clothed for comfort in a square Greek tunic, she sat with her farrowing sow, while my mother and I stood by trying to wring some preference out of her for pleats or gathers.

wouldn’t be out of place in a Mitford sister or Comyns novel. While the events, privations and constant moving around are common to many accounts of wartime life, it’s fresh and lovely to read.

Hugely atmospheric, delightful and impossible to put down, thank you to Dean Street Press both for publishing this and for sending me a copy in return for an honest review.

Book review – Henry Handel Richardson – “The Getting of Wisdom” plus Stephen Rutt – “The Seafarers” @ShinyNewBooks #20BooksOfSummer @ViragoBooks #AllViragoAllAugust


It’s book review central here as I carve out more reading time and get to grips with my 20 books of summer and review books. How lucky I am to have such a wide variety to read!

First off, I need to report on one extra book I read in July – Stephen Rutt’s “The Seafarers”, which I’ve reviewed for Shiny New Books. This was a wonderful book about the (oddly hard to define) seabirds of Britain, taking in locations from the Shetlands in the North to the Scillies in the South, with beautiful, artistically written descriptions of land, sea and bird life. Although this has been talked about as being about the help nature can give to mental health, this isn’t a huge part of the story – while I know some readers like a lot of memoir in their nature writing, I like a book to be about the nature and the person’s reaction to that.

I also liked the respect the author paid to previous nature writers who have gone before him, bringing back memories of those older volumes sitting in bird hides and the hotels you stay in on birding trips. Altogether a lovely book and highly recommended. You can read my full review here and I know the lovely editors at Shiny will appreciate you popping over and having a read (you can follow their Facebook and Twitter accounts, too).

Now for #20 books of summer, another slimmer volume in the All Virago (and Persephone) All August part of the project.  Kaggsy from the Ramblings sent me this one in November via Heaven-Ali, just like “The Eye of Love” (except I’m afraid I’ll probably be putting “Maurice Guest” to one side as it looks a bit turgid and Germaine Greer thinks it’s not as good as this one. Do I do everything Greer says? No: for a start, I am still fully underclothed at all times, however much I read “The Female Eunuch” as a teenager. Anyway, this was an interesting read, especially for its Australian setting.

Henry Handel Richardson – “The Getting of Wisdom”

30 November 2018 – from Kaggsy

The getting of wisdom is of course nothing to do with the rote-learning at the boarding school where this book is set: it’s all about how to get on with people, something our heroine never quite grasps. Like “The Eye of Love” this is another book about convention: however, here, convention stifles and squashes Laura Rambotham’s spirit and natural ebulliance, making her by turns over shy but over confident, mendacious, smarmy and over religious as she works her way unsuccessfully through a couple of years of boarding school. Her mother classifies her as disobedient and self-willed and she heart-breakingly never works out how to get on with people, missing the point generally all the way along, although a hint of her future near the end suggests that she might get what she wants eventually, unlike her friends.

We feel for Laura’s poor mother, keen on needlework but mocked for her garish designs, and having to support herself and her family, eschewing stays but trying to keep everyone on the straight and narrow. There’s a great feeling for a veneer of imposed and strict ‘culture’ over the chaos of life in Australia, and the backdrop means Laura gets to rest from school by the thundering ocean, not something that features much in British school stories except as a source of danger for rescues!

There are some good, sharp comments about how to write, and how writing allows to lie as if something was true, much easier than keeping things straight in life. There’s not a huge amount of plot but as Greer says in the introduction, it’s about someone who is “ordinary, and therefore deeply important”.

This was Book 9 in my 20 Books of Summer project.

Still reading “Spam Tomorrow” (not Jam, which I claimed yesterday!) by Verily Anderson; still enjoying it very much. How are your 20 books going??

Book review – Margery Sharp – “The Eye of Love” #20BooksOfSummer @ViragoBooks #AllViragoAllAugust


Well I’m onto the All Virago (and Persephone) All August part of my 20 Books of Summer project now, and starting off with a modern reprint which the ever-lovely Kaggsy from the Ramblings sent me in November via Heaven-Ali. It’s not quite that I was picking off the slim volumes first, honestly, but this was a quick read and an easy win. And charming: just charming!

Margery Sharp – “The Eye of Love”

30 November 2018 – from Kaggsy

A funny peculiar story about an odd woman, not in her first flush of youth and in a perilous financial position, her stolid yet hugely artistic niece and her lost love, forced to marry someone else for the sake of his business. Infinitely mockable (and indeed mocked by people in the book) yet infinitely touching, Miss Diver and her Harry are seen to be a sweet couple who should not have been parted, and there’s something very bittersweet about these people who are middle-aged at best but romantic and poor like a young couple in a garret. And Martha is just a delight, with her artist’s eye and her collection of odd friends.

Martha and Miss Diver are uncompromisingly themselves, and it’s only when Miss Diver changes that she is in danger. In a world that favours convention, they do as they wish to a large extent, and we hope that Martha will never change. I loved the detailed descriptions of her art, too. And who can argue with her as she finds a lodger for Miss Diver?

‘What’s the weekly rate?’

‘I don’t know. I’m only a child,’ pointed out Martha severely. (p. 63)

Mr Joyce is a great character and I love how he links bits of the story together, his daughter too manipulative to be pitied, although Sharp has something to say about the plight of the unmarried woman. The novel is somehow merciless but with a heart (unless I’ve read it wrong and it’s really a political satire or something) and I believe there’s a sequel, which I will have to look out for.

This was Book 8 in my 20 Books of Summer project.

I’ve read another Virago by the time of reviewing (review up tomorrow) and am currently reading “Jam Tomorrow” by Verily Anderson, which is one of the new Furrowed Middlebrow titles from Dean Street Press. It’s very good and I suspect I will have a review for you on Friday of that one!

And in booky post, I received this lovely tote bag in the post from Round Table Books today. This is an independent, inclusive children’s bookshop in Brixton, South London – they appear to be pretty active on Twitter, so do have a look and a follow. They started off as a pop-up and I supported a crowdfunder to get them their own premises, and it’s all very exciting!

Book review – Harriet Harman – “A Woman’s Work” #amreading #20BooksOfSummer


I’m using my July TBR picture as this book was in that one. Pressing on with my 20 Books of Summer, this represents book number 7, so I’m probably not going to complete the challenge this year but I’m going to have a nice booky time trying! I bought this book during my May 2018 book token rounding up bonanza – see the whole pile here and it’s interesting that I obviously do NOT read my books in acquisition order as I claim, as I read the Zephaniah almost immediately (OK, reviewing it for Shiny New Books) and took “The Sparsholt Affair” on holiday in March. Ah well!

Harriet Harman – “A Woman’s Work”

(22 May 2018)

An excellent autobiography, very inclusive and team-orientated, with great insights into her beliefs and how she got where she got and did what she did. Harman explains in the Acknowledgements that she’d denounced men’s political memoirs as vanity projects and claimed she was never going to write one, but then she realised that none of those described the changes in women’s lives over the last 30 years, or mentioned the women who were instrumental in legislating for many of these changes. This is the result, putting that right.

And she certainly does, taking pains to give massive credit to her staff, friends, family, political peers and forebears and colleagues and constituents for her triumphs and wins, but remaining clear-headed about her own mistakes, for example not standing up for herself when she wasn’t made Deputy Prime Minister when she became Deputy Leader of the party, or being unprepared for government and basically messing things up and getting sacked.

From the introduction, which draws parallels between her and others’ experiences of sexual harrassment in their early working lives and the issues women face now, the discussion of the women’s movement’s different strands and where she fits in to them and her stories of her life as an MP, Harman shows herself to have remained resolutely woman-centric and concerned with pushing women’s rights and opportunities, working on massive reports in government and opposition. She even has a woman-centric attitude when Ed and David Milliband are fighting for the leadership: “What would happen to the one who won? And to the one who lost? And what must their mother be feeling about it?” (p. 327)

I hadn’t quite realised how ground-breaking she was, being the first woman to be pregnant in Parliament, at a time when there were more MPs called John than there were women MPs, at that! She admits she made mistakes about which conventions to obey and which to flout but it’s also fascinating to read about how she pushed forward relationships with women journalists in the press lobby and even mentored new Tory women MPs in this century – while never losing her Labour and feminist principles, of course. I loved the story of how she shielded her new baby from Margaret Thatcher’s gaze (while not taking him through the voting lobby as she was accused of doing).

A lot of this book is sadly relevant today – the 1980s divisions in Labour that they took such pains to heal and the feelings of the people that Labour wasn’t to be trusted to govern then. She lays out principles for moving forward near to the end of the book (in I think a new section added for the paperback) and bemoans missed opportunities, saying quite rightly that getting the full Equalities Act (the final act of the last Labour Government) through would have helped mitigate working-class people’s resentment of the Labour as well as Tory political elite.

A generous, warm and clear-headed account of an extraordinary life in politics of the woman who was briefly my MP (and a good friend and ally of my later MP, Joan Ruddock).

This was Book 7 in my 20 Books of Summer project.

I’ve moved on to Margery Sharp’s excellent-so-far “The Eye of Love” as my first Virago of All August / All Virago and Book 8 although I hope to fill in the other three non-Viragoes at some point!


Book review – Steve Haywood – “Narrowboat Dreams” #20BooksofSummer #amreading


Another book ticked off my 20 Books of Summer list! I didn’t have an awful lot of work on this week, plus it was really hot, so I spent quite a lot of time reading in the shade in the garden or in the cool sitting room, and have made better progress with my list.  This one was from the back shelf, as it was one of the more recent acquisitions (of course, I’ve acquired even more books since I made my list, so they’re coming out of the section about 3/4 of the way along, argh!). I’m reading the next one now, although also reading another Shiny review book.

Steve Haywood – “Narrowboat Dreams”

(BookCrossing, from Gill, 20 May 2019)

Subtitled “A Journey North by England’s Waterways”, he takes advantage of the re-opened canals around Huddersfield and other bits of the North (although they have some teething troubles, he carefully states at the end that he’s been through a few times since and they’re fine now). He’s written a few other books about boating and does seem to hanker after the old days before there was so much red tape and pleasure cruising, bemoaning all the heritage signs now springing up, and I felt this was a shame as the canals are now, for example, a lovely resource in Birmingham for runners, walkers and cyclists, giving relatively well-maintained and safe green corridors to explore. He likes a manky city canal and I can’t fault him there, and there are good descriptions of other boaters and people around the canals, told with humanity and respect.

He says early on that the journey will push him to his limits and change his life – I actually discussed this with Gill, who read it before me, today and we were a little nonplussed by this. He does hurt his ankle badly and has to rely on the kindness of strangers, and is also moved when the canal community finds out about his mother being unwell and checks he’s OK, but there’s no real statement of how that’s changed his life (nor does there need to be, of course; the canal stuff was fine on its own, but if you say your life was changed …).

I was pleased to learn that winding holes are wind as in the thing that blows, not as in what you do to wool or a bobbin, as boaters let the wind help their boats turn (but is this true??) and I also enjoyed his defence of writing about a smaller journey and how that kind of adventure is just as important as the big, worldwide ones.

This book was number 6 in my 20 Books of Summer project.

I’m currently reading Harriet Harman’s excellent autobiography, “A Woman’s Work”, and am just starting “The Seafarers” by Stephen Rutt, a beautiful book for review for Shiny about seabirds. Good times!

Book review – Iris Murdoch – “The Philosopher’s Pupil” #IMReadalong @IrisMurdoch


Well, this was the fifth time at least that I’ve read this book (I recall taking it on holiday to Greece and reading it in the reception area of a Turkish hammam on a day trip while my husband was being pummelled and terrified (he thankfully didn’t end up exploring any bubbling pipework below the baths!)). Yet again, I’ve aged past the characters’ ages. Yet again, things that I thought happened in the middle happened at the end and there wasn’t as much of some themes as I’d remembered. But my goodness, this one stays firmly in my Top Five.

If you’re doing the readalong or even selected books along with me, or of course some time afterwards, do share how you’re getting on and which have been your favourites so far.

Iris Murdoch – “The Philosopher’s Pupil”

(31 December 2018)

I absolutely loved re-reading this book. I think it’s her most “George Eliot-ish” novel, isn’t it – is that a sacrilege to say? The huge web of characters, the interconnected society, the whole world in one town, the omniscient narrator who occasionally addresses the reader directly …

It opens of course with that seminal scene of Bad George crashing his car into the canal, complete with wife Stella. Oddly, I always associate this scene with “An Accidental Man”, probably because of the car crash there, and also George is a bit of an unlucky man making his own bad luck, like Austin Gibson Grey, in my opinion. And the shadowy figure of the dodgy priest, Father Bernard is there, as he always seems to be  and is indeed at the end at the scene of George’s other big misdeed – a funny touch when you’re re-reading and know just how much he worms into people’s lives. And we very soon find that our narrator is N (with “the assistance of a certain lady” as he admits at the end, p. 558). What will happen to Stella now George has tried to kill her, if he has? Is his old university tutor coming back, and will he want to see him? Just who does Rozanov want to install in a quiet house and why? The community acts as a sort of chorus as events unfold, with a sub-plot of a restaging of a peculiar opera going on at the same time.

The big Murdochian themes are all there, with the novel starting with “malignant rain” and a car in a canal and punctuated by the baths and Lud’s Rill, the geyser in the grounds, worried over by the superbly sketched in director of the baths.  We have a lot of being outside, looking in, mainly to do with the Slipper House, which Tom does a dry run for his later peering early in the novel when it’s still empty, but with Pearl looking in to Belmont and Ruby staring at Maryville, the house by the sea. In case we’re missing someone climbing over a fence by having the back gate to Belmont’s garden open, Gabriel sees the mysterious naked man climbing over one. George follows Diane three times before he finds her properly (and she’s searched for in Paris, too). Big flabby faces with wet mouths are represented by Rozanov, slippery hair in plaits and buns by Hattie. Stones are found in Hattie’s soapstone seal, Gabriel’s malachite egg she buys for Adam and hides and the stone circle at which strange things are seen, Rozanov is upset to see have been cleaned, and where George has his ‘episode’. There’s also talk of rocks that the hot spring comes out of, although only the surface ones around Lud’s Rill are visible.

Animals are beautifully represented by the mysterious foxes and the lovely Zed, a full character in his own right with his own thoughts, emotions and reactions. Who doesn’t have their heart in their mouth when he goes into the sea, even knowing what will happen? What a fantastic character who makes the book in the same way the parrot does in “The Book and the Brotherhood”.

The little ‘feminist’ touches are back in this novel, something I’ve completely missed in every other reading of all of them but am increasingly noticing now (and although Alex is a bit haggard and yellowy, the descriptions of her ageing are not nearly as horrible as those in many others of the novels). Gabriel has a year in secretarial college but wants to go to a university, before she is “overtaken by marriage. Now who and what was she? Brian’s wife, Adam’s mother” (p. 60). This is on top of her other “chief grievance”: “Brian’s selfishness to which she quietly gave in, forgiving though not forgetting” (p. 60). The feminist sector of society, while gently mocked, are I think seen as a force of good, trying to help Diane and Stella.

Like with the ageing, IM seems to have relaxed a bit on her views on marriage in this novel: although the marriages of the two older McCaffrey brothers are not successful as such, there are not so many damning statements on the condition, and we have positive hopes of Tom’s. The only real statement is this rather lovely one:

It is a feature of marriages, including happy ones, that two people who live together may have quite false ideas of one another. This does not at all necessarily lead to disaster or even inconvenience. (p. 546)

There’s a lot of religion of course, including religion lost (Alex and Rozanov’s Methodism,Father Bernard’s Judaism and then high Anglicanism. But Adam is a pantheist and Alex makes little fetishes, while Father Bernard carries on practising after his faith is lost and ends up feeling he needs to explain NOT-religion to everyone in Greece. And the books – both George and Rozanov are writing books which are, of course, unfinished. The only completed book is the one N writes! In fact, Rozanov has lost all interest in books, including perhaps his own, made clear in a melancholy description of his state of mind: “Unless one is a genius, philosophy is a mug’s game” (p. 132)

The humour is back, having been a little missing at times in the last read. The descriptions of the townsfolk and their habits are droll:

It is even alleged that people make a habit of leaving their offices early at four-thirty, bathing and resting until six and then proceeding to the pub. I have met some of these offenders myself. (p. 32)

I also loved this description of Brian:

Of course compared with George he was ‘nice’, but he was not all that nice. (p. 43)

The descriptions of Emma’s startling counter-tenor voice are also most amusing, with windows opening in London and glasses ringing in Ennistone when he produces it, and who can not giggle at Father Bernard’s consternation at having “managed to chuckle in a suggestive way” (p. 239) when phoning Hattie and then his struggles when he has his academic session with her: “Father Bernard was excited too, but not by the grammatical quest” (p. 261). The set-piece where four people watch George going to re-enact his scene by the canal is also very funny.

And what IS Mrs Bradstreet’s terrible secret?

There’s duality all over the place – the Slipper House and the main house, the brothers (well, three brothers), George’s wife and mistress, Alan’s two wives (and Fiona has a brother who has also died), two servants (and three cousins), the town and the baths, the town and London, the UK and America, Lud’s Rill and the controlled bath house, the young people and the old guard. Nesta regards the babies in the baths and can’t help being enchanted; George wants to drown them and indeed thinks of that when completing his own ‘drowning’ of his tutor. Zed appears to be a bag on the lawn of Belmont and a plastic bag floating in the sea.  We have portents, as well – George sees the number 44 everywhere.

Who is the saint and who the enchanter? Well, John Robert Rozanov is the obvious enchanter – everyone he meets ends up doing things that they often really do not want to do in order to please him. He even enchants his own grand-daughter. However he is conscious of using his powers and so he’s not entirely classic enchanter material:

Father Bernard detested walking, but he was already himself captured and caged. (p. 162)

Being so concentrated on was beginning to give tom a panicky feeling of being trapped. He wanted to get up and lean on the mantelpiece, or open the door into the hall. But he could not move. he was fixed by John Robert’s glare and John Robert’s purpose. (p. 271)

William Eastcote is described as being a saint, repeatedly, and he’s the person people want to go and confess to and ask for help. He never gossips and this is because of his “virtuous austerity” (p. 414) although he’s all too painfully human, reminded of his mortality constantly. The McCaffreys think of him as “‘a place of healing'” (p. 473). He’s also the only Quaker to speak in a meeting that’s described. His speech there is a sort of ‘how to be good’ bringing in themes from all the other books. People should print it out and regard it daily. I might do so!

Let us then seek aid in pure things, turning our minds to good people, to our best work, to beautiful and noble art … Shun the cynicism which says the our world is so terrible that we may as well cease to care and cease to strive, the notion of a cosmic crisis where ordinary duties cease to be and moral fastidiousness is out of place. (p. 205)

I wonder if he, like Charles Arrowby’s father in “The Sea, The Sea” is a portrait of IM’s father (although I say I don’t like looking for that sort of stuff, he is reminiscent of his portrayal, I feel). The other saint is poor put-upon Gabriel, with an angel’s name, a ministering touch and unfortunate floppy hair. Critically, she is described as “the silliest wettest human-being I’ve ever met” (by Alex, p. 485), a bit like Anns Perronet and Cavidge, although, like them, she doesn’t live in a mess (maybe female saints don’t?) and is really good at mending things. Is there an argument for Stella with her lack of feminine wiles and inability to “conceal her strength” (p. 79)? She has netsuke, after all, and a father in Japan …

Attention is a theme although not pushed unsubtly. N is the only person who looks at Stella’s netsuke, and all George wants is to be paid attention to by Rozanov.

Looking at links to other books, poor old Alex, stranded in a relic of her past life reminds me of Henry’s mother in “Henry and Cato”. Like her, Aliex has had her faithful retainer since her teens. As I said, George reminds me of Austin, the “Accidental Man”, and of course even more than this we are given a tiny glimpse of Hugo Bellfounder, Jake’s confidant in “Under the Net”. On p. 82 we’re told “He kept up with William Eastcote and with an eccentric old watchmaker with whom he had philosophical conversations” and then later, we find he’s died: “‘What about all those valuable clocks?’ ‘He left them to that writer, I forget his name'” (p.99) (in the introduction, Malcolm Bradbury claims this is IM (p. xvi). But surely it’s Jake?). Again with “Under the Net” is it chance that Rozanov pursues quarries of lines of thought into nets (p. 135)?

The car going into the canal and the fine balance of the act reminds me of Rain’s Morgan going into the river in “The Sandcastle”. As my lovely commenters pointed out regarding “Nuns and Soldiers” we are at a time of change here – Ruby is restive, Rozanov is back, and there’s a periodic uprising to do with Lud’s Rill which makes everyone go a bit odd. Diane with her cluttered room and odd clothes is all the prostitute/mistresses in the oeuvre, her boyish hair and figure perhaps a clue to how some of the other genderfluid women might have ended up. Mistaking French is in there, this time actually not understanding at all (p. 145). Like in “Nuns and Soldiers”, Tom like Tim undergoes trial by water and emerges changed and grown. Like in “An Accidental Man” and “Nuns and Soldiers”, Tom and Rozanov pass each other in The Crescent but don’t notice each other.

Looking forward through the remaining works, the obsession with the old tutor prefigures “The Book and the Brotherhood” and I was excited to find George post-stones described as “weak and pale like a grub in an apple” (p. 547) as this prefigures Stuart Cuno in “The Good Apprentice” being described as a white grub (more than once?). She must have liked and retained the image.

On rereading this one in particular: so everyone’s in their early 40s apart from (maybe) N, and definitely Alex, William Eastcote (sob!) and John Robert Rozanov. So I’m older than them again. But this time I do still have kind thoughts towards the young crowd, where I went off them in other books. I remembered a lot of the set pieces and being somehow obscurely almost in love with N, but somehow thought that Tom’s adventure among the pipes was a lot further back in the book than it was (and also John Robert’s demise). I also thought there were lots more walks with philosophy for Rosanov and than there actually were. Odd, isn’t it!

Please either place your review in the comments, discuss mine or others’, or post a link to your review if you’ve posted it on your own blog, Goodreads, etc. I’d love to know how you’ve got on with this book and if you read it having read others of Murdoch’s novels or this was a reread, I’d love to hear your specific thoughts on those aspects, as well as if it’s your first one!

If you’re catching up or looking at the project as a whole, do take a look at the project page, where I list all the blog posts so far.

Book review – Neil Gaiman – “Norse Mythology” and @ShinyNewBooks review #20BooksOfSummer


Today I have a Shiny New Books review to share and another #20BooksOfSummer book completed – progress on all sides although I still have some reviews to get submitted. My review of Michael J Benton’s “The Dinosaurs Rediscovered” is out now on Shiny New Books (here) and it’s perhaps more serious and scientific than my more emotional reaction to the book that I shared here previously. Anyway, a really enjoyable book and one I highly recommend for the dinosaur-lover in your life.

Now to remove one from the TBR picture shown here …

Neil Gaiman – “Norse Mythology”

(22 May 2018)

A retelling of the Norse myths by the great purveyor of fantasy and general all-round National Treasure – and it’s well-done and serious, paying close attention to the sources and taking pains to explain in the notes what he used for which sections. I also liked the introduction, where he describes finding the myths, first through comics, then through Roger Lancelyn Green (he mentions Green and Kevin Crossley-Holland as master storytellers who he had to look away from when compiling this book; I read Crossley-Holland’s version of the myths a while ago), and his telling is more straightforward and less inventive than, for example, Joanne Harris‘ although the ending does have some interesting and different details. I also like that he states he wishes he could tell stories of the goddesses but that only a fraction of the mythology remains, and their stories have been lost.

In Gaiman’s unmistakable voice, I’m sure this will become a worthy classic. It hits all the right marks and tells all the right stories.

This was Book 5 in my #20 Books of Summer (I’d better get a move on, right?)

I’ve just finished Iris Murdoch’s “The Philosopher’s Pupil”: what an almost perfect book, so wonderful. No idea how I’m going to review it. Then it’ll be either another review copy or another 20 Book of Summer …

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