I read five or
so books in September.
Bought in
Christian Aid Book Sale. This is a book like no other I have read.
It’s partly
a memoir of Keggie (Kathleen) of growing up with her three siblings, her mother
and her larger-than-life father, Tom. (Both parents had extraordinary family
histories – and later, after they divorced, there was the much-hated
Stepmother.)
And it’s partly her piecing together Tom’s time as an undercover
agent with the Jedburghs, a branch of the Special Operations Executive, in the
Second World War and afterwards. She vividly portrays his time with the
Resistance in France, and in Burma helping to conspire against the Japanese
oppressors.
That aspect is not just the work of her imagination; she did a
massive amount of research and also spoke to some of Tom’s colleagues who
survived from those days – because, sadly, when she began to want to write this
book her seemingly invincible father was suffering from dementia and unable to
contribute meaningful memories.
Keggie Carew’s
writing is fab – this is as gripping
as any war-time thriller should be and as poignant as any family memoir should
be, with large helpings of black humour and clear-eyed insights. With its
different time frames it can’t have been an easy book to construct but it works
brilliantly.
Has been on my
shelves for years; a current interest in Tasmania made me pick it up now.
First of all, a quiz question: Who is Matthew Kneale’s mother?
Ans: none other
than the amazing Judith Kerr, famous for creating The Tiger Who Came to Tea and the Mog stories, among many other wonderful books.
However, English Passengers is rather more wordy
than those, weighing in at 470 pages including an Anglo-Manx glossary. It’s set
in 1857 and has thirteen viewpoint characters.
A motley collection of
passengers, brought together in various ways, are on a ship bound for Tasmania,
that shield-shaped island below Australia, thought by at least one of those on
board to be the true site of the Garden of Eden; plus we also hear from several
people already on the island who include the natives who are literally being
hunted to extinction, the colonial rulers and a chain-gang of convicts.
Every one of the
voices ring true; these all seem like real, individual people. Inevitably some
of their stories are the grimmest possible but there is much humour to be found
too. The main character is the ship’s captain, the insouciant and wonderfully
named Manx smuggler, Illiam Quillian Kewley.
I loved it.
After those two
corkers I had a blip, reading-wise. I just wasn’t in the mood for getting to
know new characters so I fell back on faithful standbys: three O. Douglases.
‘O. Douglas’ was
the pen name of Anna Buchan, sister of the more famous John. Her domestic
novels, several of them thinly disguised autobiographies, were very popular in
their day, in the early decades of the 20th century. They won’t be to everyone’s taste now but I know I am not their only fan (there is a Facebook group devoted to her). I have
been reading them over and over since I was about ten so they are like family
members – you know them so well and recognise that they have faults but you love them very much
anyway.
And I enjoyed
these latest additions to my collection of girls’ annuals.
Normal service
will be resumed – I have some new books I am looking forward to reading in
October. Watch this space.