#AtoZ Challenge: H

It’s October and it’s horror month! Last day of the month but – I’m squeezing something in. Happy Halloween! I had a rough start to October and need some cheering – horror wasn’t the answer. So I read some Bryant & May and some Aggies (see previous post).

H is also for .. Georgette Heyer! I was going to write about her anyway and lo and behold, I start writing about H in October – heh. Heyer did extensive research and apparently, one of her novels about Waterloo  (An Infamous Army) was used as a text at the Royal Military Academy at Sandhurst. She was a stickler for accurate detail so while other historical romances took liberties with historical facts or completely fabricated them, Heyer would do meticulous research. She wanted to be a serious writer but the unfinished work that I read lacked the wit, charm and comedy that she is well known for. When I was a young teen, I went through a phase of reading lots of Heyer. The first book of hers I read was Powder and Patch. Reading the synopsis tells me I have completely forgotten the story so it is ripe for a re-read. Some people compare Austen with Heyer, but that is sort of unfair because Austen’s contemporary readers knew what the social life, morals, mores, fashions etc were because they were living them. Heyer’s readers weren’t. I don’t know if I will read An Infamous Army or not, but I will read another historical romance.

The General in His Labyrinth – Gabriel Garcia Marquez

I read this while undergoing radiotherapy. I chose this to read when I was unpacking a large plastic crate of books. It brought back lovely memories of book buying trips in second-hand bookshops in London and Brooklyn. Anyway, I didn’t know at the time that it was about the last weeks of Simon Bolivar’s life. He was ill and dying – maybe not the best choice of reading matter at the time. But that didn’t really matter because the writing is so wonderful. Bolivar was travelling to the coast of Venezuela to leave the continent. I think the aim was to return to France. The government was reluctant to issue him a passport to leave the country and at the time of his last travels, he wasn’t the hero any longer. The silences as his company went by are sad but beautifully depicted. I love the varying descriptions of the suffocating heat – you could just feel it. The dialogue between the characters is wonderful and the descriptions of the travel, lodgings, food and other experiences are beautifully evocative. Marquez is a master and this is a loving tribute to a hero of Sth America.

The Unknown Ajax – Georgette Heyer

“What the devil do you mean by …”, “I’ve got more sense in my knowledge-box than to say…”, “Does it ever occur to you, Mama, that my grandfather is a lunatic?” These are some of the delightful phrases in Heyer’s ‘The Unknown Ajax’. To a stately family’s horror, a misbegotten boy, now a man, is to be the heir to the title. The family is headed by an irascible elderly man who doesn’t take fools gladly. Unfortunately, he considers many of his family fools. Lots of funny episodes of assumption and pride occur as well as drama and histrionics. Heyer was an authority on the Regency period and her books have been used in academic courses. She did a tremendous amount of research during her life and used her knowledge to create believable and in many cases, accurate depictions of manners, language and dress in her Regency fiction. So as well as being a fun read with laugh out loud moments, it is also an educational one if you are interested in this period in English history.

The Blind Assassin – Margaret Atwood

I didn’t realise how brilliant this novel was until I had finished it. And it is so utterly sad and has left me with a feeling of loss. The brilliance of this novel is that she leaves you guessing as to what is actually going on but leaves hints here and there that perhaps you may pick up and think ‘aha’. Atwood’s characters are so real, you can imagine them as people you know. I thought one was so like a person I knew and I felt like I was getting some insight – but this could be a false feeling, or maybe it isn’t. Old age in all its decrepitude is marvelously described with wryness and bald truth. I absolutely loved her character’s commentary about the everyday. Lots of passages resonated with me, like this one “What fabrications they are, mothers. Scarecrows, wax dolls for us to stick pins into, crude diagrams. We deny them an existence of their own, we make them up to suit ourselves — our own hungers, our own wishes, our own deficiencies.” I felt a bit guilty after reading this because it is true. My mother once said, ‘My name isn’t Mum; I wish people would use my name sometimes.’ This story is set in a small town in Ontario encompassing the time between both world wars. There is fine attention to detail which is a delight to read. This is the first Atwood I’ve read and I can definitely say it won’t be the last.