Better late than never, this is my sign-up post for Carl’s Readers Imbibing Peril V Challenge, which officially commenced on September 1st.  I was caught up in the infection of the first posts that did the rounds, reading everyone’s selections with fascination and a covetous heart, but I’ve been busy on a course for the last two weeks and put my post on the back-burner.  However, I have been there in spirit (hee) by reading the latest Tiffany Aching novel by Terry Pratchett and rereading Great Expectations, both of which fit the supernatural and gothic (respective) roots of the challenge.

I’ve been making a conscious effort not to over-commit myself to any scheduled reading, preferring to choose my reads on a whim, but I can never resist Carl’s challenges and they have begun to mark seasons for me as unequivocally as the first detection of bitterness -or lack thereof- in the air.  As a compromise I have decided to limit my commitment this year to Peril the Second: Read two books of any length that you believe fit within the challenge.  This loose level of participation allows me the freedom to pursue the challenge without confining me to the perimeters of genre; if the mood takes me then of course I shall increase my quota before Hallowe’en.

The first certainty when it came to creating my potential pool of reading material for the challenge was The Lottery and Other Stories by Shirley Jackson.  I read both We Have Always Lived in the Castle and The Haunting of Hill House by Jackson during last year’s R.I.P. and I have been saving her collection of short stories especially for its return.  My other choices have been done on a whim from my t0-be-read and are a mixture of mystery, thriller and dark fantasy, for the most part; I have no idea whether the ghostliness of Ghost Light exists in the title alone but I plan on finding out!

The Lottery and Other Stories by Shirley Jackson

Out by Natsuo Kirino

My Cousin Rachel by Daphne Du Maurier

Tithe by Holly Black

The Beekeeper’s Apprentice by Laurie R. King

Miss Smilla’s Feeling for Snow by Peter Høeg

Ghost Light by Joseph O’Connor

The Complete Fairy Tales by Charles Perrault

Have you read any of these choices or do any strike you as particularly fitting for the challenge?

Also, if you are at all reluctant to commit to any reading challenges but are quite attracted to creepy experiences over the coming weeks then Carl has introduced a Peril on the Screen component to the challenge; experience the scary without tying yourself to reading the scary!

When I asked in my recent acquisitions post which book you suspected I had already read, nobody guessed Hotel Iris by Yoko Ogawa.  One of the shortest books on the stack and also by the same writer of one of my favourite reads of the year so far, it was a natural choice for me; I was struck by subtle beauty of The Housekeeper and the Professor and was eager to read more by the author and her translator, Stephen Snyder.  Interestingly, Hotel Iris was published in Japan in 1996, seven years before The Housekeeper and the Professor; it is tellingly the earlier novel.  Hotel Iris lacks the emotional resonance of its successor (in Japanese) but it is a hauntingly evocative study of a unconventional relationship.

As in The Housekeeper and the Professor, all of the characters are nameless excluding the seventeen-year-old narrator, Mari; Mari’s mother, the translator, his nephew and the maid at Hotel Iris make up the remainder of the small cast of characters and are identified by their professions and relationships.  Mari is quiet and impressionable; she works the front desk of the family hotel and is at the whim of her mother’s dominant personality.  On the opening page, a prostitute and a middle-aged man are ejected from the Hotel Iris following a heated and public altercation (mostly on the side of the prostitute who is shocked at her customer’s sexual proclivities).  Mari is instantly attracted to the commanding voice of the man, before she sees him, and so begins her obsession with him; she then meets the much-older man in the coastal Japanese resort, he introduces himself as a translator, and they enter into a disturbing relationship.  The translator is rumoured to have murdered his wife and has a reputation of depravity; Mari and he quickly adopt adopt role play of dominant and submissive.  Mari enjoys the pain and ecstasy of her subjugation and her illicit meetings with the translator are often violent and intense.

It was the first order he gave me, and I trembled at the thought that his voice was now speaking only to me.  I shook my head, not to refuse but to hide the trembling.  “Take everything off,” he said.  Desire and impatience stirred under his calm expression.  He had been as timid as usual all day – until we reached the island, where his rule over me began.

Ogawa’s writing is spare but she successfully sets up a tense narrative that looks ahead with foreboding.  The translator’s mute nephew comes to visit his uncle and he and Mari share a sensual attraction towards each other and the novella heightens in intensity to its abrupt climax.

The subject matter is dark and makes uneasy reading but Ogawa takes the disturbing and writes it into something subtle and yet also tragic.  Hotel Iris is an interesting and eerily compelling examination of a BDSM relationship that also looks at the power dynamics in everyday relationships; Mari’s mother bullies her and Mari in turn holds power over the maid whilst the nephew holds the power of guilt over his uncle; all possess different levels of moral ambiguity.

If you read any of the same blogs as I do then you may recall seeing French Milk mentioned on a number of them.  The first review I recall seeing was this one by JoAnn of Lakeside Musing last year; I immediately coveted the book, thinking that it looked and sounded enchanting, and ever since I have been tempted by more and more reviews.  Finally I succumbed and bought a copy.  I started to read it immediately after it arrived, thinking that a charming read set in Paris would alleviate my melancholia following my cat’s death; five pages in and a cat died (quite the graphic description of its dead body; not surprising for a graphic novel, I know, but this also came with illustration of a cat with angel wings and a photograph).  I was blindsided and shelved the book until June, when I felt stronger and could move past those two pages.  Yesterday I read another book where a pet cat died… I think books should come with public service announcements “beware reading if you are mourning the loss of your feline”; the only book I knew for certain to avoid was Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore.  In lieu of such specifics on book-jackets, I am providing the PSA: DO NOT READ THIS IF YOUR CAT HAS DIED ONLY A FEW DAYS BEFORE.

Anyway, touchy subject excluding, I greatly enjoyed French Milk.  In this graphic travel memoir, Lucy Knisley records the six weeks she and her mother spend in Paris in late 2006/early 2007 to celebrate milestone birthdays for them both (Lucy’s 22nd and her mother’s 50th).  Part diary/photo journal/sketchbook, Lucy writes, illustrates and photographs their experience; the overall effect is of a personal, made-at-home document.  The travelogue follows Lucy and her mother as they explore and discover Paris, from the apartment -with quirky features- that they have rented in the 5th arrondissement, the oldest area in Paris and one of the more central, situated on the Left Bank.  For beginners to the graphic novel medium, French Milk, is accessible with one-panel drawings that don’t overwhelm; think of it as an illustrated novel, if you prefer.

Lucy’s memoir is deeply personal and documents her relationship with her mother as they share this once-in-a-lifetime experience; the conflict between making the most of such a wonderful opportunity and missing her boyfriend, John; her struggle to come to terms with the inevitability of adulthood. On the cusp of graduating from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago a few months later and in the process of applying to the Center of Cartoon Studies, Lucy faces her fears of financial responsibility, of failure and of the inability to find employment after her studies and the less-immediate terror of what lies beyond; as a young woman in her late twenties I empathise with the emotions Lucy experienced in her early ones.  The journal encapsulates that transition between adolescence and adulthood, the resistance it causes, and the stark reminder of all we still have to achieve and those things we have not that our birthdays often serve as; at times self-indulgent, it is recognisably realistic.  Knisley encapsulates her experience in minute detail so that the reader begins to feel that they are there sharing the apartment with her and her mother (along with other occasional visitors) and experiencing Paris as she experienced it.

As an artist, Lucy visits and journals about most of the Parisian museums, art galleries and exhibitions but she and her mother also shop and do an abundance of eating; the title, French Milk, refers to the author’s love for the distinctive  creamy milk only available in France.  As a foodie, I loved the descriptions and illustrations of rich food, especially of the Ladurée and Pierre Hermé macarons (even though Knisley refers to them as “cookies”, I recognised the drawings of one of my preferred indulgences).  Highlights for me were the visits made to two Paris landmarks beloved to me: Shakespeare & Co. for their books and Café Angelina for their famous hot chocolate; moreover, I enjoyed the section spent visiting Oscar Wilde’s grave, which epitomised Lucy’s passionate nature.

Having visited Paris for the first time one winter, I was nostalgic for that visit and that time (I was just a year older than Lucy, at the same stage in my academic career). Knisley’s memoir of travel, food, art, and life has intensified my desire to revisit; when I do, I will ensure that I pack French Milk to reread and to use as a creative and personal guidebook.

Paris in July is a French-themed blogging experience being co-hosted by Karen of BookBath and Tamara of Thyme for Tea throughout July and this is my first contribution towards the challenge.

I’m not a great one for completing reading challenges; I love the excitement to begin with and going through my books (and books I want to read but don’t yet have) and compiling a list for the challenge but  for me that’s the most exciting part.   Soon I become bogged down by not having met the challenge criteria and reading to a deadline and I hate that; reading should be fun, whimsical and not prescribed so I avoid falling into that quagmire wherever possible.  However, Dolce Bellezza’s annual Japanese literature challenge is so easy that even I can participate without feeling pressured.  I love reading literature from Japan and would love to indulge in it more often, let alone only one book in the six months that the challenge runs for.  One book is a requisite that even I can meet and is the easiest of stipulations, one that I have adopted in challenges I have hosted – challenges that are so easy that they don’t challenge me all so much (the best kind, if you ask me!)

Speaking of making lists, here is mine for this year’s Japanese literature challenge, which bears an uncanny resemblance to the one I made last year… On it are books I have been meaning to read from favourite writers whose work I want to read more of, (Haruki Murakami), newly-discovered writers who I would like to read a second book by (Yoko Ogawa) and new-to-me writers whose work I wish to sample (the remainder!) Many of these are books that have been read and enjoy by participants in previous challenges, that have been popularly suggested and recommended and others are Japanese classics that Tanabata of In Spring it is the Dawn is and will be hosting read-alongs for and which will allow me to catch up with and participate in.

Silence by Endo Shusaku

Battle Royale by Koushun Takami

In the Miso Soup by Ryu Murakami

Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami

The Pillow Book by Sei Shonagon

Out by Natsuo Kirino

Strangers by Taichi Yamada

Hotel Iris by Yoko Ogawa

The Makioka Sisters by Jun’ichiro Tanizaki

The latest installments of The Bloomsbury Group series -complete with vibrantly coloured covers- arrived at Paperback Reader abode today (published in the UK July 5th).  The one I am most excited about reading is the double-header photographed above: Mrs Harris Goes to Paris & Mrs Harris Goes to New York (or, And Other Adventures, as it appears on the book cover) by Paul Gallico.  My review of the first in the double-header, Mrs Harris Goes to Paris, can be read here (under the title, Flowers for Mrs Harris); I am looking forward to reading about the further touching escapades of the salt-of-the-earth charwoman.

At the weekend I found this article in The Guardian fascinating; this year sees the fiftieth anniversary of the birth control pill.  Whatever your thoughts may be on this form of contraception, it was revolutionary in the Women’s Liberation movement; Rachel Cooke explores its influence upon literature of the time including The Group by Mary McCarthy, which was my favourite read of last year.  Attention is also paid to The L-Shaped Room by Lynne Reid Banks, a book also celebrating its fiftieth birthday this year, and one that concerns the pregnancy of a young, unmarried woman.  I’ve been meaning to read the book for some time -especially as it appears on Simon of Stuck in a Book’s list of books that I (and everyone else) must read- and this is added incentive to finally read it this year; I think it is one to suggest to my book group (the one that mainly reads feminist literature) and would perhaps make a great companion read with Married Love by Marie Stopes.

Lastly, I don’t know where the time has gone but did you realise that Dolce Bellezza’s fourth annual Japanese Literature Challenge has already begun? JLC IV is a challenge that I will most definitely be participating in and will be sharing a list of potential reads with you shortly (I love making lists and even if I don’t manage to read many of them, they are so enjoyable to compile); before I do run away to my bookshelves with my notebook and pen, do you have any Japanese literature to recommend?

White is for witching, a colour to be worn so that all other colours can enter you, so that you may use them.  At a pinch, cream will do.

White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi is a novel difficult to categorise; it is experimental with multiple narrative styles and viewpoints, often switching perspectives mid-paragraph.  It is confusing and involves close concentration to follow but it is an accomplished novel and one with a lot of literary merit. White is for Witching is challenging and time-consuming but ultimately rewarding in its uniqueness alone.

Oyeyemi has crafted a complex -one that could be considered overly- tale that does exhibit her literary prowess but where it does prove her talent as a writer, the story itself is unsatisfying.  Originality is a plus point but not when it is at the expense of a cohesive and resolved storyline and White is for Witching lacks one.

It would be belittling to classify White is for Witching as a haunted house story but the evil house at its centre is personified into one of the novel’s four narrators.  The house in Dover manifests itself into the narrative, the power it holds over the characters seeping into the text itself, manipulating the reader.  It is an admirable and creative use of literary device but it is at the cost of substance.  White is for Witching possesses many elements of the Gothic and fantastic, incorporating African folklore into a modern context; the novel tackles large themes of mental illness, race, sexuality, incest, grief, and medical disorder surrounded by the supernatural.  With its supernatural elements, the novel is reminiscent of The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson but its modern concerns and ambition it comes across as attempting too much and suffers for lack of focus.

Miri and Eliot are teenage twins, whose mother has died; Miri suffers from pica, a mental disorder characterised by eating largely inedible items, and is a troubled girl.  Miri is most definitely an unreliable narrator as are her fellow storytellers -her family home, her twin, and the friend she makes at university, whose preoccupation with the folklore of her African heritage introduces the soucouyant element into the novel. A soucouyant is a folkloric supernatural creature, similar to a vampire, that sucks the soul from you and it is the force that drives the events in White is for Witching. The folklore is interesting and there is a pervasive, powerful force that propels the novel forward and sucks the reader in but it starts better than it ends; the plot could have been resolved more solidly and satisfyingly. This is a good novel but it could have been a great one and, towards the end, the enjoyment is sucked from the text and the husk of structure remains; however, for those who prefer style over substance, it is a joy technically.

Ah, if only I had a lovely wrapped up Persephone to share …  This week has resulted in much Persephone-purchasing temptation and I have four Persephones at least in my possession that will be read as soon as possible.  Regrettably Persephone Reading Week has been a bit of misnomer for me as not much reading managed to be done; I completed only two Persephones and working my way through Dimanche and Other Stories, savouring the beauty of the prose.  The event this year has been overwhelmingly busier than the last, which is testimony in itself to its success and the popularity of the imprint amongst book bloggers and book blog readers.  I know that many of you are already looking to the next (and some have even suggested a  Persephone MONTH!) but Verity and I shall to recover first before we make any decisions about the future feasibility of hosting again; we were thinking about a weekend later in the year… A long weekend of being curled up with a Persephone (or a pile) sounds blissful.

Many thanks to my lovely co-host and for the enthusiasm and support from all of you who have participated.  I have greatly enjoyed reading the (too many to count) posts and the personal stories and responses to Persephone Books. By my calculations around fifty of the titles from the Persephone catalogue were mentioned in some capacity this week, which is an impressive feat and proves how much the press has to to offer.  I extend my warmest thanks to everyone for making this week such fun and interesting reading.

Thomas from My Porch posted our favourite post of this week about Dorothy Whipple; we simply couldn’t get over our amusement at his letter to Persephone Books and it is apt that he has won the prize of The Closed Door and Other Stories.  Honorary mention has to be made to Claire of The Captive Reader for this post, which was serendipitous.  Of course, there have been many wonderful posts from this week and we have enjoyed reading them (if not collating them all!)

Speaking of prizes, thank you to all who entered into my prize draws; the winner of The Victorian Chaise-longue is Claire of Kiss a Cloud and the winner of Farewell Leicester Square is Frances of Nonsuch Books.  Congratulations to you both!  I have both of your addresses and will pop those in the post to you tomorrow. Commiserations to those who entered who didn’t win; I am sorry that there weren’t enough prizes to go around as it is so delightful to receive (or buy) Persephones.  To anyone who would like a consolation postcard of the Islington house where The Victorian Chaise-longue was set, then please let me know and I’ll post out as many as I have remaining on a first come, first served basis. A big thank you to Nicola Beauman of Persephone Books for supplying these prizes.

Darlene of Roses Over A Cottage Door chose A Very Great Profession as her prize for my other give-away, which is an apt choice for this week.  Darlene’s choice for me, To Bed With Grand Music, was perfect and a definite highlight of my week, despite the emotional intensity of it and my personal response.

And seeing as I am far too generous a person, here are a few more digested posts from yesterday:

Claire of Kiss a Cloud also reviewed To Bed With Grand Music, on Mother’s Day across the ocean (ironic as Deborah can certainly be judged on her parenting skills).

Donna of Rambling Fancy reviewed Lady Rose and Mrs Memmary, which, like me, now takes pride of place as her favourite Persephone.

JoAnn has reviewed Doreen and her extensive use of quotes has me even more enticed by the book.

Jane of Fleur Fisher has announced her give-away winners. Thank you so much for your generosity this week.

Thomas has posted an additional post for the week and recounts a little Whipple serendipity; it seems that Thomas is destined to be on Team Whipple as a fully-fledged/read member as quickly as possible.

Miranda of skirmish of wit has reviewed Mariana, that has her crying for more Dickens (the great grand-daughter, that is).

Claire of The Captive Reader quotes from her favourite Persephone, Mariana, and sums up her feelings towards Persephone Reading Week.

Bellezza of Dolce Bellezza wraps-up Persephone Reading Week by unwrapping a Persephone!

Carolyn of A Few of my Favourite Books has reviewed Mariana, summed up her week, and started an invaluable resource on her blog collating previous Persephone reviews.

There you have it: Persephone Reading Week 2010 is now officially at a close and I hope that you have enjoyed it.

I have a very big (and final?) round-up for you today so please forgive me if I don’t officially wrap-up Persephone Reading Week (along with my co-host Verity who is feeling particularly ill today and won’t be online again today) until tomorrow; we shall be announcing our prize-draw winners then so stay tuned…

Please continue to post your thoughts though and I shall attempt a belated collation post depending on your interest and on the reviews that are still to filter in.  I shall be reviewing a few other Persephones here and there over the coming weeks but do have a lot to catch up post-Angela Carter month and Persephone Reading Week.  I am particularly looking forward to those posts in the coming weeks outlining which Persephones you have succumbed to through this week and which of those you end up ordering from the Persephone website!  During my visit to the shop yesterday I was particularly restrained (despite my excitable co-host being such a bad influence, not to mention an enabler); I did, however, pounce upon two grey Persephones in the wonderful secondhand haven we spent a lot of time in, and now the proud owner of pristine editions of The Runaway by Elizabeth Anna Hart and On the Other Side: Letters to my Children from Germany 1940-46 by Mathilde Wolff-Mönckeberg, which brings my Persephone collection up to forty-one titles.

Okay, now to the links:

The lovely Naomi of Bloomsbury Bell has posted about her week of enchantment, which includes Persephone reading, of course.  Don’t you feel enchanted by Persephones? I feel as if I am emerging from a cosy haze (or comforting blanket?) upon closing those beautiful endpapers and French flaps.

Katherine of A Girl Walks Into a Bookstore has reviewed both They Were Sisters and A London Child of the 1870s, one of which she enjoyed immensely and the other she had reservations about.

Jane from The World According to Jane has written a wonderfully informative and enjoyable post about Persephone Books, the Lamb’s Conduit Street shop, and surrounding Bloomsbury.

Iris from Iris on Books has happily been able to read her first Persephone catalogue-featured title this week, which she didn’t think was outstanding but found it comfortably enjoyable.

Claire from The Captive Reader has reviewed Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, which she found unexpectedly bittersweet.

Julia of The Saga of Julia has provided an unexpected treat in her review of forthcoming Persephone title (October ’10), The Winds of Heaven by Monica Dickens; I enjoyed the sneak-peek of a book that no doubt I will buy later this year.

Teresa of Shelf Love has managed to review her second of two of the novellas, Every Eye, she bought whilst visiting the Persephone shop with me last week.

Stujallen of Winstondad’s Blog has read Cheerful Weather for the Wedding for this week and thought it a lost gem that oozes the era.  Stu also provides a two-page pdf of Julia Strachey’s life.

Heather has reviewed Lettice Delmer on LibraryThing, but warns of spoilers in her thoughts on this novel-in-verse.

Claire of Kiss a Cloud “absolutely loved” Little Boy Lost and you can read the remainder of her beautiful words (and see her accompanying photograph) over on her site.

Nat of In Spring it is the Dawn also reviewed Little Boy Lost, which was her very first Persephone and “a definite success”.

Pri of another cookie crumbles has posted her thoughts on Mariana, which she wishes she had read as a teenager so she could have loved it as a sixteen-year-old and ever since.

Astrid of The Literary Stew has also read To Bed With Grand Music and thinks it testimony to Laski’s quality of writing that she could still find a book with such a despicable leading character so engaging.

Joan of Flowers and Stripes has posted another enticing quote, this one a long -but ultimately worth it- quote on parenthood from Greenery Street.

Buried in Print has continued her In Wartime series by covering Operation Heartbreak.

Hayley of Desperate Reader has mused on Making Conversation and very cleverly tied it in with the UK Bloggers Meet-Up yesterday; it was wonderful to meet Hayley and she and I shared some lovely bookish conversations.

Tea Lady of The Glittering Burn has written a glowing review of Someone at a Distance, which she calls “a cosy ‘cup of tea’ read”.

Polly of Novel Insights has reviewed The Far Cry, which transported her to India.

Thomas of My Porch has reviewed Greenery Street -and shared an uncanny dream he once had- as well as posting the first Persephone Reading Week wrap-up post.

Phew! What a lot of links; I am both amazed and overwhelmed by how popular Persephone Reading Week has been this year!

No round-up from my lovely co-host Verity this weekend as she is currently on her way to meet me for a day of book shopping (including Persephone, of course) before the UK Bloggers’ Meet-up this evening.  Instead, I shall be bringing you the latest posts during Persephone Reading Week and will do the same tomorrow before wrapping up the week and announcing some of the give-away winners; Verity returns online on Monday for the final housework of the event (and the overall prize of The Closed Door and Other Stories for our favourite post of the week so keep ‘em coming!)

First of all, please have a read of my review (if you can call it that) of To Bed With Grand Music and don’t forget to enter my prize-draw for a copy of Farewell Leicester Square, if you haven’t done so already.

Thomas of My Porch is convinced (and provides evidence) he saw one of the fabrics from Persephone endpapers on someone whilst watching television.  This had me thinking of which endpapers design I would love to wear (I think as a skirt, although possibly a dress too) and it would most definitely have to be this one.  Personally I would adore a patchwork quilt consisting of all of the swatches of endpapers and am giddily excited about the forthcoming Persephone diary, which will provide all of the endpapers (ninety, at that time) in one volume with details of the fabric plus the opening line of each book.

Lyn of I Prefer Reading has reviewed Daddy’s Gone A-Hunting by Penelope Mortimer, a Persephone I haven’t read anything about across the blogosphere until now.  Lyn’s assertion that the book recalled to her mind The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman was enough to convince me to read it sooner or later; I have a great fascination for women’s mental health in literature and the subsequent suppression -or incarceration- of the women by their families.

Dolce Bellezza has also reviewed To Bed With Grand Music (a popular choice of Persephone this week) very succinctly, which I did not…

Marie of The Boston Bibliophile has read and reviewed Mrs Craven: the Wartime Stories of Mollie Panter-Downes, which she thought pleasurable yet bittersweet and compared to the Pulitzer-winning Olive Kitteridge.

Carolyn of A Few of my Favourite Books took a break from the cosy Brit-Lit Mariana and instead read and reviewed the “exquisite” Hetty Dorval.

Simon of Savidge Reads read The New House by Lettice Cooper this week and in his review admits that it was not his cup-of-tea but a little lukewarm.  His post raises thought-provoking questions on disappointment and unrealistic expectations of an imprint or press fully satisfying our whims and moods each and every time.  If nothing else, it has also made the book appeal to me whereas before it had passed me by!

Buried in Print also posts her latest In Wartime reflections, which is a series I have found incredibly moving this week, especially with it being the 65th anniversary of VE Day.

Lastly Joan of Flowers and Stripes posts a single, heartfelt quote from Greenery Street that has me itching to read the book and even more impatient to get married!

A quick question before I run off for the day, which has been your favourite post or highlight this week?

To Bed With Grand Music by Marghanita Laski is the fourth of her novels that Persephone Books have published but was the first of those four to be published, in 1946 under the pseudonym “Sarah Russell”.  A unique take on the experience of women in WWII England, To Bed With Grand Music opens with the arresting line, “Graham and Deborah Robertson lay in bed together and tried to say goodbye to each other”; Deborah’s husband is due to leave for Cairo for a desk-job in the war effort and in their goodbye he promises to be unfaithful to his wife, for the duration of his time overseas, only with women who cannot be compared to her, whilst Deborah vows her fidelity. The novel follows with Deborah’s failure to keep that promise throughout wartime until victory and her husband’s impending return home.

That is where I come unstuck.  I have found it difficult to gather my thoughts and present them concisely on this book because Deborah exasperates, repels and flummoxes me. It is difficult for me to fully articulate my thoughts on this book because I have so many; it is thoroughly though-provoking and Darlene was right in suggesting it for me, on the basis that she entered into a dialogue with herself whilst reading it and thought that I would do likewise.  Deborah is most vexing as is the situation presented.  A husband freely admits -in advance- to being unfaithful to his wife whilst he is serving his country and yet she is to remain the docile wife at home with their son; the double-standard employed in the power dynamic of their marriage infuriates me and yet it was is seen as the norm because men have needs.  Goodness forbid that a woman has sexual needs of her own and that she seeks that fulfillment outwith the sanctimony of marriage, let alone during wartime.  The premise of To Bed With Grand Music is a shocking one but shocking in the sense that such things have rarely been tackled in literature and certainly not on the back of the war itself, when people were acclimatising to peace-time; Mollie Panter-Downes deals with it to an extent in her Mrs Craven short stories and Elizabeth Bowen depicted the sensuality found in the Blitz (or the darkness it resulted in) in The Heat of the Day, which Sarah Waters picked up on decades later in The Night Watch but for the main, those stories of the Home Front have been endearing (I think of Henrietta’s War, myself). What Laski has done is expose the underbelly of how the women left at home could -and often did- occupy themselves whilst the men were at the front (the preface by Juliet Gardiner makes fascinating reading).

Deborah is a thoroughly dislikable character from the outset; she is brattish and selfish.  Being a housewife and a mother to Timmy, their two-year-old son, frustrates and bores Deborah and it is not long after Graham’s embarkation -at the instigation of her mother and housekeeper- leaves the family cottage and goes to find work in London, returning only on weekends to see her son.  Before she  has even set herself up in London, Deborah has experienced her first sexual encounter with another man; she is disgusted with herself but it is not long after moving to London that she conducts her first extra-marital affair and then another and then another, each one more seedy and briefer than the one before.  By the novel’s end, the transformation is complete and Deborah has gone from a doting wife to a tart without a heart who seeks lessons in becoming a good mistress.

There is such difficulty in evaluating what becomes to Deborah because I rail against judging a woman for her sexual liberation and support a woman’s right to use her own body as she wishes but, in effect, Deborah prostitutes herself for dinners and drinks, hats and bags, and black-market stockings and nail-varnish.  Laski presents such a quandary because I struggled so hard not to judge Deborah but I succumbed; Deborah disgusted me in her wanton disregard for the pain she was inflicting (the potential pain that had to be surmised) on the innocent victims of her adultery: her son and the wives of those married men she went with; she even begins to think of her actions as in the best interests of her child.  My own strong feelings against adultery made it impossible to read this novel objectively; it wasn’t an immoral book but I’m not sure of Laski’s intent, whether she was writing a straight-up expose or a condemnation; she certainly did not pain Deborah in a sympathetic light.  Deborah deludes herself  in justifying her actions and it does make compelling reading, if not a completely enjoyable experience because of the frustration felt at Deborah’s actions and her justifications.  It is most definitely a disconcerting read, more for my own reactions to it, and for the unique take on the home front that it provides, which is truly illuminating post black-out.

Despite lacking the emotional intensity of Little Boy Lost, To Bed With Grand Music still has me reeling and unable to express and do justice to how good -not to mention versatile- a novelist Laski is.  I do think that, like me, she judged Deborah and she makes a persuasive argument for doing so.  Graham, the husband, only appears in that opening bedroom scene -excluding some gushing and sexist letters- so we can only surmise how he has been conducting himself whilst absent from home; his absence excuses him from culpability, which is enraging, and is very effective in evoking the double-standard applied to cheating spouses.  This novel is very much one about gender, power and sexual freedom, whether that was Laski’s intention or not.  Yet again Laski has evoked a powerful reaction in me as a reader.

Some representative passages:

It was not until the end of August that Deborah’s content began to break up.  Each autumn in wartime, everyone is slightly more depressed than they were each spring, for they look forward to cold and black-out and bombing, and another Christmas of war.  They have forgotten the fantastic hopes they entertained as the last winter faded away, or, if they remember them, it is only to contrast their past expectations with present reality.

Deborah understood him.  ‘You’re at least the third person,’ she said, ‘who has asked me if it mightn’t be better if I went home to my chee-ild.  Well, darling, that’s just one of the things I’ve really thought out for myself and I know it’s better to be happy than unhappy, and not only for me but for my baby as well.  I like this sort of life, in fact, I love it, and seeing as how I’m hurting no one and doing myself quite a lot of good, I rather think I’ll carry on with it.  I’ve come to the conclusion that conventional morals were invented by a lot of unattractive bitches to make themselves feel good.

The end-papers from To Bed With Grand Music are taken from a 1940 Jacqmar scarf, ‘Good Night Everybody’ from a private collection.