the enigma game, and other sources of FEELINGS
One of the first books I ever read about WWII was the picture book What Was the War Like, Grandma? The page I remember the most vividly is one about rationing: Lola’s mother [...] made a beautiful evening dress from an old voile curtain. But Lola wasn’t quite so impressed when her mother made her a dressing gown from an old blanket.
That is what making masks using old sheets, a pillow case and other fabric scraps reminds me of. We don’t have wartime-level rationing, but this sort of recycling saves one a long wait in a queue at the fabric counter. It’s also oddly satisfying. Instead of elastic, I threaded them with ties sourced from a box of cord and laces originally pulled out of trackpants or hoodies. Maybe that’s strange, but surely it’s no stranger than a curtain turned into an evening dress?
Making masks has been a very constructive exercise -- a way of taking control and ownership of the situation, and of changing my emotions about this whole mask-wearing thing. When I put on a mask, I’m reminded of positive memories: the enjoyment of tackling this project with my mother; my sense of achievement in what we made together.
While I had my sewing machine out, I also made a little bag for my phone. It would’ve been better if I had taken a bit more time and care with the bag’s flap, but it looks okay and it works. (I spent my childhood reading books, not making dolls clothes and learning from any mistakes.)
The last book I read about WWII was…
• The Enigma Game by Elizabeth Wein: Like The Pearl Thief, this is a prequel/companion novel to Code Name Verity. It begins in late 1940.
Nineteen year old Flight Lieutenant James G. Beaufort-Stuart is flying Blenheims in northern Scotland, trying to keep the lads in the (multinational, multicultural) 648 Squadron B-Flight in line and alive. His friend, Volunteer Ellen McEwen is a driver assigned to an RAF aerodrome and is keeping quiet about being a Traveller. Meanwhile fifteen year old Louisa Adair, newly-orphaned, isn’t able to hide her Jamaican heritage so easily, but a telephone interview gets her a job no one else wants, caring for an elderly German woman, Jane Warner. The four of them discover a way that Jamie can keep his squadron ahead of the Germans.
I loved this. The way Wein explores themes of identity, secrets and the problems of prejudice with each of her protagonists gives the story greater nuance -- her protagonists have range of experiences, and the people they meet have a range of attitudes. One of the most powerful aspects of this story was its portrayal of characters forming bonds because of their differences, because they understand what it’s like to be an outsider or to be discriminated against.
Wein gives her main characters really strong, understandable reasons for making their decisions -- decisions which might obviously, in hindsight or from a more objective perspective, not always be the wisest.1 She writes about smart people who make mistakes sometimes and I like how she allows them to realise this about themselves.
I was delighted (and also devastated) by how this story fits in with Code Name Verity. I knew some broad details about what would happen to Jamie, but that foreknowledge absolutely did not lessen the emotional impact. Actually, that aspect reminded me of a line from Code Name Verity: It’s awful, telling it like this, isn’t it? As though we didn’t know the ending. As though it could have another ending. It’s like watching Romeo drink poison. Every time you see it you get fooled into thinking his girlfriend might wake up and stop him. Every single time you see it you want to shout, You stupid ass, just wait a minute, and she’ll open her eyes! Oi, you, you twat, open your eyes, wake up! Don’t die this time!' But they always do.
However, because of the Code Name Verity connection, there were moments I was expecting, or hoping, to see -- and when I reached the end of the book, I was disappointed because I realised that, no, some of those things were not to be found here. And that coloured my feelings about the ending as a whole.
I should reread this, now that I know what to expect. I think that would help me to sort out some of my thoughts and feelings about it. And I was going to reread this... except instead I reread Wein’s short story “Something Worth Doing”1a and now I’m rereading the Code Name Verity audiobook.
(This is one of the reasons why I haven’t finished my current audiobook or any of my other library books.)
Some final comments: This is a first-person novel, not an epistolary one. I like clever reasons for epistolary but if you don’t have a strong reason for explaining why characters are telling their story (in breach of the Official Secrets Act, no less!) it’s probably better to just go with plain, unexplained, first person.
The bits about flying are lovely. There wasn’t any point worrying about anything for the next few hours, and the beauty of the sea and sky in the silver moonlight and blue clouds was like a fairy world, a dream world. I was amazed by the cold night sky, the clouds filled with luminous light and shadow as we rose through them, the full moon dipping in and out of view, stars frozen still overhead. I wasn’t afraid of anything.
1 decisions which might obviously [...] not always be the wisest: Wein also does this really well in (1a) “Something Worth Doing”, when a grief-stricken Theo joins the RAF disguised as her late brother.
Another reason I haven’t finished my library books is because of my latest bout of impulsive romance-reading…
• Kind of Cursed by Stephanie Fournet: Millie has been dealing with a lot -- losing her parents, gaining guardianship of her younger siblings, a miscarriage and a relationship break-up. In light of this and of the family “curse” (a history of contraception failures, unplanned pregnancies and twins), she has decided to avoid men for the next decade. But it’s hard to avoid Luc, who is overseeing the renovation of Millie’s kitchen.
This gave me warm fuzzy feelings, watching Millie find the support and comfort and things to be happy about which she so desperately needs. It has the right I-need-a-hug-vibe, the right ratio of emotional hurt/comfort, for me.2 In another story, I likely would have had issues with how quickly the romance becomes a serious relationship, but I thought that the characters’ choices made sense in context.
2 Sometimes that’s such a hard balance. I’ve wandered into the hurt/comfort tag on AO3 and noped right out, and I’ve noped out of romantic suspense titles for probably similar reasons. (I don’t remember many details because I was determined that I wouldn’t remember. Sometimes I can pull that trick off!) And there are serious topics I’m interested in reading about, or at least, I’m not set on avoiding altogether, but I’m hesitant about picking up a book featuring them unless it’s written or recommended by someone I particularly trust, or else there’s some guarantee of a happy ending.
Sometimes I say to myself, If you’re going to criticise romance novels for focusing more on the romance than on all the other things in the characters’ lives, maybe you should be reading other genres??? But the romance genre feels like a safe space to go diving into the unhappy parts of life; generally speaking, I don’t want to read really bleak-and-depressing stuff.
• Fall Semester by Stephanie Fournet: This romance between a depressed literature professor and a graduate student who has just moved interstate to be closer to her terminally-ill father was an interesting experience because I was aware of its weaknesses and yet it was such a compelling dose of FEELINGS that I really enjoyed reading it.
I also have something of a soft spot for stories about universities.
So, those weaknesses. The prose style is sometimes too bland and pedestrian, perfectly serviceable but an odd fit for two protagonists with academic backgrounds in literature and particular interests in poetry. The characters are dealing with serious issues which deserved more focus; having introduced Malcolm’s depression dramatically, it was odd that equal emphasis wasn’t given to showing his recovery; and also odd that certain scenes weren’t shown from Maren’s POV. Malcolm’s reaction to missing out on jobs had uncomfortable overtones of entitlement; if he wasn’t going to be challenged about that, I wanted him to have a better reason for his frustration (It’d be quite different if he hadn't been white, for instance).
I suspect I was feeling tolerant, knowing that this was the author’s first novel, and knowing too that Kind of Cursed doesn’t have these issues (In a nutshell: its prose style fits the protagonists; Millie is grieving over things which happened months before, which allows for a bit more distance without feeling like the story is glossing over her loss; and Luc’s family is Latino, so there’s not just more diversity, it’s incorporated better too).
• You First by Stephanie Fournet: More compelling feelings, which kept me reading. But in hindsight, it didn’t completely sell me on the age-gap or the short time-frame. And it could have managed that, if only it hadn’t largely skipped over showing the characters navigating an interesting challenge introduced in the final act in favour of an epilogue which picks up some time later. Seriously, if you’re going to throw in that particular complication, then I at least want to watch them deal with it.
I’m not grumbling too much. I cared enough about seeing the characters’ situations improve, which counts for something. And what did I expect, reading three romance novels in a row?
• Hamster Princess: Giant Trouble by Ursula Vernon (aka T. Kingfisher): After Ratpunzel, Harriet’s next adventure involves magic beans, a giant bunny and a hamster who wants to form a band. There is something very soothing about making tea. You have to concentrate on the whole process, and then you have tea. Even someone as decisive as Harriet had to make tea sometimes and think things through.
Originally @ Dreamwidth.
That is what making masks using old sheets, a pillow case and other fabric scraps reminds me of. We don’t have wartime-level rationing, but this sort of recycling saves one a long wait in a queue at the fabric counter. It’s also oddly satisfying. Instead of elastic, I threaded them with ties sourced from a box of cord and laces originally pulled out of trackpants or hoodies. Maybe that’s strange, but surely it’s no stranger than a curtain turned into an evening dress?
Making masks has been a very constructive exercise -- a way of taking control and ownership of the situation, and of changing my emotions about this whole mask-wearing thing. When I put on a mask, I’m reminded of positive memories: the enjoyment of tackling this project with my mother; my sense of achievement in what we made together.
While I had my sewing machine out, I also made a little bag for my phone. It would’ve been better if I had taken a bit more time and care with the bag’s flap, but it looks okay and it works. (I spent my childhood reading books, not making dolls clothes and learning from any mistakes.)
The last book I read about WWII was…
• The Enigma Game by Elizabeth Wein: Like The Pearl Thief, this is a prequel/companion novel to Code Name Verity. It begins in late 1940.
Nineteen year old Flight Lieutenant James G. Beaufort-Stuart is flying Blenheims in northern Scotland, trying to keep the lads in the (multinational, multicultural) 648 Squadron B-Flight in line and alive. His friend, Volunteer Ellen McEwen is a driver assigned to an RAF aerodrome and is keeping quiet about being a Traveller. Meanwhile fifteen year old Louisa Adair, newly-orphaned, isn’t able to hide her Jamaican heritage so easily, but a telephone interview gets her a job no one else wants, caring for an elderly German woman, Jane Warner. The four of them discover a way that Jamie can keep his squadron ahead of the Germans.
I loved this. The way Wein explores themes of identity, secrets and the problems of prejudice with each of her protagonists gives the story greater nuance -- her protagonists have range of experiences, and the people they meet have a range of attitudes. One of the most powerful aspects of this story was its portrayal of characters forming bonds because of their differences, because they understand what it’s like to be an outsider or to be discriminated against.
Wein gives her main characters really strong, understandable reasons for making their decisions -- decisions which might obviously, in hindsight or from a more objective perspective, not always be the wisest.1 She writes about smart people who make mistakes sometimes and I like how she allows them to realise this about themselves.
I was delighted (and also devastated) by how this story fits in with Code Name Verity. I knew some broad details about what would happen to Jamie, but that foreknowledge absolutely did not lessen the emotional impact. Actually, that aspect reminded me of a line from Code Name Verity: It’s awful, telling it like this, isn’t it? As though we didn’t know the ending. As though it could have another ending. It’s like watching Romeo drink poison. Every time you see it you get fooled into thinking his girlfriend might wake up and stop him. Every single time you see it you want to shout, You stupid ass, just wait a minute, and she’ll open her eyes! Oi, you, you twat, open your eyes, wake up! Don’t die this time!' But they always do.
However, because of the Code Name Verity connection, there were moments I was expecting, or hoping, to see -- and when I reached the end of the book, I was disappointed because I realised that, no, some of those things were not to be found here. And that coloured my feelings about the ending as a whole.
I should reread this, now that I know what to expect. I think that would help me to sort out some of my thoughts and feelings about it. And I was going to reread this... except instead I reread Wein’s short story “Something Worth Doing”1a and now I’m rereading the Code Name Verity audiobook.
(This is one of the reasons why I haven’t finished my current audiobook or any of my other library books.)
Some final comments: This is a first-person novel, not an epistolary one. I like clever reasons for epistolary but if you don’t have a strong reason for explaining why characters are telling their story (in breach of the Official Secrets Act, no less!) it’s probably better to just go with plain, unexplained, first person.
The bits about flying are lovely. There wasn’t any point worrying about anything for the next few hours, and the beauty of the sea and sky in the silver moonlight and blue clouds was like a fairy world, a dream world. I was amazed by the cold night sky, the clouds filled with luminous light and shadow as we rose through them, the full moon dipping in and out of view, stars frozen still overhead. I wasn’t afraid of anything.
1 decisions which might obviously [...] not always be the wisest: Wein also does this really well in (1a) “Something Worth Doing”, when a grief-stricken Theo joins the RAF disguised as her late brother.
Another reason I haven’t finished my library books is because of my latest bout of impulsive romance-reading…
• Kind of Cursed by Stephanie Fournet: Millie has been dealing with a lot -- losing her parents, gaining guardianship of her younger siblings, a miscarriage and a relationship break-up. In light of this and of the family “curse” (a history of contraception failures, unplanned pregnancies and twins), she has decided to avoid men for the next decade. But it’s hard to avoid Luc, who is overseeing the renovation of Millie’s kitchen.
This gave me warm fuzzy feelings, watching Millie find the support and comfort and things to be happy about which she so desperately needs. It has the right I-need-a-hug-vibe, the right ratio of emotional hurt/comfort, for me.2 In another story, I likely would have had issues with how quickly the romance becomes a serious relationship, but I thought that the characters’ choices made sense in context.
2 Sometimes that’s such a hard balance. I’ve wandered into the hurt/comfort tag on AO3 and noped right out, and I’ve noped out of romantic suspense titles for probably similar reasons. (I don’t remember many details because I was determined that I wouldn’t remember. Sometimes I can pull that trick off!) And there are serious topics I’m interested in reading about, or at least, I’m not set on avoiding altogether, but I’m hesitant about picking up a book featuring them unless it’s written or recommended by someone I particularly trust, or else there’s some guarantee of a happy ending.
Sometimes I say to myself, If you’re going to criticise romance novels for focusing more on the romance than on all the other things in the characters’ lives, maybe you should be reading other genres??? But the romance genre feels like a safe space to go diving into the unhappy parts of life; generally speaking, I don’t want to read really bleak-and-depressing stuff.
• Fall Semester by Stephanie Fournet: This romance between a depressed literature professor and a graduate student who has just moved interstate to be closer to her terminally-ill father was an interesting experience because I was aware of its weaknesses and yet it was such a compelling dose of FEELINGS that I really enjoyed reading it.
I also have something of a soft spot for stories about universities.
So, those weaknesses. The prose style is sometimes too bland and pedestrian, perfectly serviceable but an odd fit for two protagonists with academic backgrounds in literature and particular interests in poetry. The characters are dealing with serious issues which deserved more focus; having introduced Malcolm’s depression dramatically, it was odd that equal emphasis wasn’t given to showing his recovery; and also odd that certain scenes weren’t shown from Maren’s POV. Malcolm’s reaction to missing out on jobs had uncomfortable overtones of entitlement; if he wasn’t going to be challenged about that, I wanted him to have a better reason for his frustration (It’d be quite different if he hadn't been white, for instance).
I suspect I was feeling tolerant, knowing that this was the author’s first novel, and knowing too that Kind of Cursed doesn’t have these issues (In a nutshell: its prose style fits the protagonists; Millie is grieving over things which happened months before, which allows for a bit more distance without feeling like the story is glossing over her loss; and Luc’s family is Latino, so there’s not just more diversity, it’s incorporated better too).
• You First by Stephanie Fournet: More compelling feelings, which kept me reading. But in hindsight, it didn’t completely sell me on the age-gap or the short time-frame. And it could have managed that, if only it hadn’t largely skipped over showing the characters navigating an interesting challenge introduced in the final act in favour of an epilogue which picks up some time later. Seriously, if you’re going to throw in that particular complication, then I at least want to watch them deal with it.
I’m not grumbling too much. I cared enough about seeing the characters’ situations improve, which counts for something. And what did I expect, reading three romance novels in a row?
• Hamster Princess: Giant Trouble by Ursula Vernon (aka T. Kingfisher): After Ratpunzel, Harriet’s next adventure involves magic beans, a giant bunny and a hamster who wants to form a band. There is something very soothing about making tea. You have to concentrate on the whole process, and then you have tea. Even someone as decisive as Harriet had to make tea sometimes and think things through.
Originally @ Dreamwidth.