In which there are the Thames foreshore and Connecticut seaside
- Doing, visiting the beaches of the Thames: I always keep my eyes open when I’m down on the Thames foreshore. The human debris is mostly from the last couple of centuries: eroded bricks, animal bones, clay pipe pieces, and random shards of ceramics. "Mudlarking", i.e. digging or scraping, is licensed by restrictive laws in much of central London because of the sensitive archaeology in the area but picking small items off the surface is usually permissible, provided any finds covered by special laws are reported to the proper authorities (this is for SCIENCE and HISTORY so please cooperate). Anyway, last time I was there I spotted one lone piece of Border Ware, made around Farnborough on the Surrey/Hampshire border, which probably dated from the 16thC-17thC. It’s a dull green lump but it’s beautiful in my eyes.
- Reading, books 2015, 8.
3. Widows and Admirals, by Louise Field Cooper, 1964, is another of Cooper’s well-written novels about Connecticut old money, this time in their untouchable summer seaside belljar. It begins by gently satirising all the characters equally but, alas, ends up painting the lone nouveau riche incomer as a disruptive intruder and her maid as the most villainous character. It’s not, imo, as good as The Boys From Sharon (4/5) but I found it entertaining enough to finish (3.5/5). The (anti-) heroine Bee is a bee amongst W.A.S.P.s and the author repeats this conceit in scene setting and beyond: "brush up the dead wasps in the living room" (lol), and "he had wasps in the downstairs lavatory and he didn’t know who in thunder was going to deal with 'em." An imagined croquet riposte: "Nice shot, my buzzing Bee." A woman cutting flowers from someone else’s garden: "like a large and diligent bee, working among the flowers" and "Her own waist was pliant as a wasp’s as she bent". But my interest was especially roused by a devilish Willowes reference that seemed unlikely to be wholly accidental, bearing in mind the author’s penchant for carefully chosen words:
Maggie Shaw: "You are an absolute devil, Mr. Willowes."
Mr Willowes: "I am, ain’t I? Not so much now, though, as I used to be. Once I was a real one," he boasted. […] "I’m a wayward devil".
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- Reading, books 2015, 8.
3. Widows and Admirals, by Louise Field Cooper, 1964, is another of Cooper’s well-written novels about Connecticut old money, this time in their untouchable summer seaside belljar. It begins by gently satirising all the characters equally but, alas, ends up painting the lone nouveau riche incomer as a disruptive intruder and her maid as the most villainous character. It’s not, imo, as good as The Boys From Sharon (4/5) but I found it entertaining enough to finish (3.5/5). The (anti-) heroine Bee is a bee amongst W.A.S.P.s and the author repeats this conceit in scene setting and beyond: "brush up the dead wasps in the living room" (lol), and "he had wasps in the downstairs lavatory and he didn’t know who in thunder was going to deal with 'em." An imagined croquet riposte: "Nice shot, my buzzing Bee." A woman cutting flowers from someone else’s garden: "like a large and diligent bee, working among the flowers" and "Her own waist was pliant as a wasp’s as she bent". But my interest was especially roused by a devilish Willowes reference that seemed unlikely to be wholly accidental, bearing in mind the author’s penchant for carefully chosen words:
Maggie Shaw: "You are an absolute devil, Mr. Willowes."
Mr Willowes: "I am, ain’t I? Not so much now, though, as I used to be. Once I was a real one," he boasted. […] "I’m a wayward devil".
This entry was originally posted at http://spiralsheep.dreamwidth.org/518253.html and has
comments Please comment there using OpenID.