Tag: fiction

Books and reading

Mandarin Summer

by Margaret5 Comments on Mandarin Summer
Mandarin Summer

Back in the 1980s, when I was working as a film editor at the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, I read a book called Mandarin Summer by the New Zealand author Fiona Kidman.

It’s a coming-of-age story – also called a Bildungsroman in the literary world. If you’re unfamiliar with this term, it literally means ‘a novel of education’, because it tells the story of a character’s formative years. Some well-known examples of this genre include Jane Eyre (1847) by Charlotte Brontë, and The Hunger Games (2008) by Suzanne Collins. Both books feature young protagonists who are about to discover what the real world is all about.

I love books which focus on transformation, and I particularly like coming-of-age stories which feature young women on the cusp of adulthood. They’re not easy to write because the author needs to accurately capture a voice which is sometimes childish, and at other times more worldly.

Set in 1946, Mandarin Summer tells the story of eleven-year-old Emily Freeman, who moves to the Northland of New Zealand with her parents after her father returns from the war. Luke and Constance have purchased a plot of land from the Barnsley family, but when they arrive, they discover the land they have purchased is useless.

During the drought-stricken summer that follows, Emily and her family become embroiled with the Barnsley family, and family secrets are forced into the open. The novel builds to an explosive and satisfying climax, slightly reminiscent of Jane Eyre in that it involves a fire.

When I first read Mandarin Summer, I was captivated by the writing, which is spectacularly filmic. I talked about the book so much that the film director I was working with suggested I purchase an ‘option’ on the rights. Matthew, the director, was a very entrepreneurial Irishman who had made several independent films, and he convinced me that purchasing an option was a great idea, even though I had no experience in being a film producer.

It was very cheap to do this, perhaps only a couple of hundred dollars for a period of around two years. Optioning a book gives the producer (in this case me) time to develop the script and approach funders. During this time, the author cannot grant anyone else a similar option and the producer pays a small fee for the privilege.

Sadly, my real life took over and in the end my option lapsed without me doing any of the required work. I could have renewed it, but it seemed unlikely I would ever get around to doing anything with it. In retrospect, I cannot imagine why I ever thought I would be able to attract backers for a movie, I only knew that the book was extremely visual and would make a great film.

What was strange about the whole situation was that at the time, I didn’t even own a copy of the book!

I’d originally read a library copy (of course) and couldn’t track down another copy. So when we visited Auckland a few years ago, I was delighted to find an old, yellowed copy in a second-hand bookshop and I snapped it up for old-time’s sake. It still sits on my shelf as a reminder of when I had big dreams about doing big things. Inside the book is a faded postcard of a baby Kiwi, a little chap who probably also had big dreams.

A faded copy of the book Mandarin Summer and a postcard of a Kiwi.

I was delighted to discover that Mandarin Summer is still in print, even though it was never made into a film, as far as I know. It was republished in 2021, and I’m pleased to say that the author, now known as Dame Fiona Kidman, is still writing books and poetry and is a leading figure in the New Zealand book industry. She’s 85 and still going strong.

If you’d like to read my review of a recent ‘coming-of-age’ book, also set in New Zealand, check out BOOK CHAT, my newsletter for readers and eaters.

Books and reading

Should you read the classics?

by Margaret6 Comments on Should you read the classics?
Should you read the classics?

A friend told me she was trying to read Wuthering Heights but was finding it hard going. I was curious about why she was persevering if it wasn’t her thing. Regular readers know my stance on reading books you aren’t enjoying, but I also understand that people often feel embarrassed if they haven’t read books they think everyone else has, especially if they are classics.

I’m reminded of a scene in a movie where the main character reads Democracy in America (by Alexis de Tocqueville) because she thinks everyone has read it and she feels inferior. It’s only when she’s finished grinding her way through the enormous book and tries to discuss it with her new friends that she finds out no-one else has actually read it. They’re all just pretending and no-one has ever found them out.

And that’s the truth of it. Many people haven’t read Dickens, the Brontës or Jane Austen, and this doesn’t make them any less of a reader, or a person for that matter. My friend definitely doesn’t need to think she doesn’t measure up because she hasn’t read certain books.

To be perfectly honest, I’ve never read Wuthering Heights, but I have seen the movie and the characters always drive me crazy. There are just so dramatic and make totally stupid decisions.

Where to begin?

There’s something to be said for having a crack at something more challenging, but you need to choose carefully. Victorian literature is dense and wordy, so you may need to find a quiet place to really get into the story.

If you’re keen to read one of the classics, but don’t know where to start, I would try Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë. It’s a cracking story about an orphan who endures a miserable childhood, then as a young woman gets sent to work in the home of the wealthy and impetuous Edward Rochester. First published in 1847 under the name of Currer Bell, Jane Eyre is a bildungsroman (a coming of age story) that deals with class, sexuality and religion, but it’s also a wonderful love story with a satisfying ending. Along with Pride and Prejudice, and Gone with the Wind, it’s one of the most famous love stories of all time.

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

Another book I enjoyed is The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë. Published in 1848 under the name of Acton Bell, it remains remarkably relevant today with its strong feminist themes and portrayal of a woman escaping domestic abuse.

Helen Graham is a beautiful and secretive young woman. She moves into Wildfell Hall with her young son and the locals are desperate to know more about her. A man named Gilbert Markham offers Helen his friendship, but as local gossip and speculation surround her reclusive behavior continue, he wonders if he has misplaced his trust in her.

The shocking details of the disastrous marriage she has left behind emerge when she allows Gilbert to read her diary…

‘A powerful novel of expectation, love, oppression, sin, religion and betrayal’. 

Daily Mail
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

Middlemarch

A third suggestion is Middlemarch by George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans). It’s a very long book and was originally published in eight instalments. Set in a fictitious town in England in the early 19th century, it tells the story of Dorothea, an intelligent, earnest woman who makes the mistake of marrying Edward Causabon, a man many years her senior. He’s a pompous scholar and bore and his main reason for marrying is to use Dorothea as his personal secretary. Dorothea promptly falls in love with Will Ladislaw, Edward’s idealistic cousin, but tries to remain faithful to her husband, even after his death (silly woman).

I read it many years ago and loved it, but if you really don’t think you can make it through such a long book, look out for TV series (made in 1994) which stars a young and very handsome Rufus Sewell as Will Ladislaw, and Juliet Aubrey as Dorothea.

Why did they use pen-names?

All three novels were published under male pseudonyms, a common practice in Victorian times. Some women wanted to be able to write more freely, others wanted to be taken more seriously. In the case of Eliot, its been suggested that she avoided using her own name because of her elopement with journalist and critic George Henry Lewes, a married man with whom she lived happily for many years.

According to this article, Eliot “relished being thought of as a male and was disappointed when people thought otherwise.” Until Eliot’s first mass publication, The Sad Fortunes of the Reverend Amos Barton in 1957, George Eliot was thought to be male. Eliot was outed in 1958 by a widely circulated letter written by Charles Dickens, who pointed out that the piece was too feminine to be written by a male.

Following Lewe’s death in 1878, Eliot subsequently married her accountant, John Cross and was criticised for this as well. She just couldn’t win!

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Books and reading

Literary fiction

by Margaret10 Comments on Literary fiction
Literary fiction

I’ve been watching a series called Love, Nina on the ABC. It’s based on a book by Nina Stibbe about her early days as a nanny working for a single mum (played by Helena Bonham-Carter) in a somewhat bohemian household in London.

Bonham-Carter plays Mary-Kay Wilmers, editor of the London Review of Books, who Stibbe worked for as a young woman. Nick Hornby wrote the script, and it’s very amusing, especially the dialogue between the two boys and their mum. There’s also an odd neighbour (a Scottish poet) who comes to their house for dinner every night and constantly criticises Nina’s cooking.

In the series Nina moves from Leicester to London and discovers ‘literature’ because of her friendship with a young man who lives three doors up. Early in the series he sees her reading Shirley Conran’s Lace, a trashy novel popular in the 1970s, and gives her a copy of The Return of the Native (Thomas Hardy), but she finds it frustrating and impenetrable. There’s a delightful scene where she’s reading it to her nine-year-old charge and pretending that it’s Enid Blyton so that he can help her understand what it means, but he sees through her plan and demands that she reads him The Famous Five instead.

Eventually Nina realises Hardy is writing about the characters’ interior life and not just documenting their everyday activities. She marvels at the idea that everyone has an interior life, even Aunty Gladys, and that this is what literature is all about.

I’m not sure whether this is true, and to be honest I have read little Hardy since I was about 17, but I have noticed that when you go into a bookshop, there’s always a shelf labelled ‘literary fiction’, and one labelled ‘fiction’ or sometimes ‘general fiction’. Sometimes there’s another shelf called women’s fiction, but never a shelf called men’s fiction. Poor men, why don’t they get a shelf?

Writer and teacher Allison K Williams says that in simple terms, a literary book is just one that has sold less than 10,000 copies, but I think there’s more to it than that (and I think she’d agree). She is merely making the point that if you are planning to write literary fiction, then you’d better not expect to sell thousands of copies unless you win the Booker Prize or another big literary award. Commercial fiction is written with the market in mind, and the big publishing houses seem to think that most people want to read books that are just like other books. That’s why you see books marketed as the new Eleanor Oliphant, for example.

The dictionary defines ‘literature’ as written work that is considered superior or has lasting artistic merit, but I’m not sure who decides these things. Some books are more thoughtful and engaging than others, and these are the ones that I like to read, regardless of the label.

I’m keen to know what things mean, and perhaps be moved to think about wider themes such as the value of friendship, honesty, and love, but I think these ideas can be explored in a well plotted murder mystery or a romance novel. In order for a book to move me there needs to be something that resonates at a conscious, or perhaps unconscious level, but I’m not bothered if it’s also a page-turner. I like complex characters and long sprawling multi-generational books, but most of all, I like strong storytelling.

I like books that stay with me after I’ve finished reading them. Sometimes I even catch myself wondering how the characters in the book are going, as if they were actually friends or people I’ve met somewhere. I like flawed characters and dislike one-dimensional goody two shoes. People who are good all the time are just not realistic in my book. Who’s nice all the time in real life? Not me, that’s for sure.

Books and reading

Don’t judge me

by Margaret2 Comments on Don’t judge me
Don’t judge me

Do you ever worry about people judging you because of your reading choices? I’m ashamed to say I do.

Last week I was in the middle of a pretty intense workshop when we decided to take a short lunch break. The workshop facilitator wanted to pop out and get a coffee so I thought I’d take the chance to get a bit of fresh air and pick up some books from the library. I’d reserved them during the holidays but forgotten what they were, so when I arrived I was a bit surprised to find that they were definitely holiday reads (very light thrillers) and I wondered briefly if I should take them back to my desk and chuck them in a drawer or take them back into the workshop and have the inevitable conversation which starts with “so what are you reading?”.

I decided to take them with me but somewhat embarrassingly, I found myself mumbling about this not being indicative of my usual reading fare (as if anyone cares). The facilitator, lovely woman that she is, said kindly, “I’m not judging you” but this made me wonder how much we judge people by their reading choices and more importantly how much we judge ourselves.

I never try to make people think that I’m a literary kind of person, but I do read a lot and people often ask me what I’m reading. At any one time that could range from thrillers to literary fiction to memoirs to self-help books. I read most genres except perhaps horror and fantasy books. I’m a pretty fussy reader unless I’m stuck in an airport in which case I’ll probably read anything, or if it’s the holidays and then I’m allowed to read whatever I like. It’s part of the holiday splurge and something I rather enjoy. Good food, lots of nice wine and some unchallenging books. Lovely!

I’ll get back to something more nourishing soon.