Ernie Pyle in England. Ernie Pyle. 1941. 215 pages. [Source: Bought]
First sentence: A small voice came in the night and said, “Go.” And when I put it up to the boss he leaned back in his chair and said, “Go.” And when I sat alone with my so-called conscience and asked it what to do, it pointed and said, “Go.” So I’m on my way to London.
Premise/plot: Ernie Pyle in England was first published in 1941. It gathers together Ernie Pyle's newspaper columns from his time--three or so months--in England (and Ireland and Scotland). (He was an American journalist.) At the time the book was published, America had NOT yet entered the second world war.
My thoughts: WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME THIS BOOK EXISTED?! Seriously. I've gone all these years of my life not knowing about Ernie Pyle?!?!?! This one was a PERFECT fit for me. I love to read about England. (I do. I really do.) And I love to read about World War II. If you love history, this one may prove quite satisfying. And if you love human-interest stories, then this one will certainly satisfy!!!
I found it fascinating, entertaining, compelling, charming.
Quotes:
A ship carries people out of reality, into illusion. People who go away on ships are going away to better things.
Our bathtub has three faucets, one marked cold, and two marked hot. The point is that one is a little hotter than the other. I don’t know why it’s done this way. All I care about is that one or the other should give off hot water; and they really do — plenty hot. But our radiator does not have the same virtue. It is a centuries old custom not to have heat over here. All radiators are vaguely warm; none is ever hot. They have no effect at all on the room’s temperature. I’ve been cold all over the world. I’ve suffered agonies of cold in Alaska and Peru and Georgia and Maine. But I’ve never been colder than right here in this room. Actually, the temperature isn’t down to freezing. And it’s beautiful outside. Yet the chill eats into you and through you. You put on sweaters until you haven’t any more — and you get no warmer. The result is that Lait and I take turns in the bathtub, I’ll bet we’re the two most thoroughly washed caballeros in Portugal. We take at least four hot baths a day. And during the afternoon, when I’m trying to write, I have to let the hot water run over my hands about every fifteen minutes to limber them up. I’m telling the truth.
My new English friends wanted to know what America thought; and they told queer bomb stories by the dozen. “You’re a welcome sight,” they said. “We’ve all told our bomb stories to each other so many times that nobody listens any more. Now we’ve got a new audience.”
London is no more knocked out than the man who smashes a finger is dead. Daytime life in London today comes very close to being normal.
Some day when peace has returned to this odd world I want to come to London again and stand on a certain balcony on a moonlit night and look down upon the peaceful silver curve of the Thames with its dark bridges. And standing there, I want to tell somebody who has never seen it how London looked on a certain night in the holiday season of the year 1940. For on that night this old, old city was — even though I must bite my tongue in shame for saying it — the most beautiful sight I have ever seen. It was a night when London was ringed and stabbed with fire. They came just after dark, and somehow you could sense from the quick, bitter firing of the guns that there was to be no monkey business this night.
And Big Ben? Well, he’s still striking the hours. He hasn’t been touched, despite half a dozen German claims that he has been knocked down. Bombs have fallen around Trafalgar Square, yet Nelson still stands atop his great monument, and the immortal British lions, all four of them, still crouch at the base of the statue, untouched.
Londoners pray daily that a German bomb will do something about the Albert Memorial in Kensington Gardens. If you have ever seen it, you know why.
Apparently the national drink in England is a beef extract called Bovril, which is advertised everywhere, like Coca Cola at home. Yesterday I went into a snack bar for some lunch. I asked the waitress just what this Bovril stuff was, and in a cockney accent that would lay you in the aisle she said: “Why sir, it’s beef juice and it’s wonderful for you on cold days like this. It’s expensive, but it’s body-buildin’, sir, it’s very body-buildin’.” So I had a cup. It cost five cents, and you just ought to see my body being built.
If I were making this trip over again I would throw away my shirts and bring three pounds of sugar.
You can hardly conceive of the determination of the people of England to win this war. They are ready for anything. They are ready to take further rationing cuts. They are ready to eat in groups at communal kitchens. Even the rich would quit their swanky dining rooms without much grumbling. If England loses this war it won’t be because people aren’t willing — and even ahead of the government in their eagerness — to assume a life of all-out sacrifice.
Don’t tell me the British don’t have a sense of humor. I never get tired of walking around reading the signs put up by stores that have had their windows blown out. My favorite one is at a bookstore, the front of which has been blasted clear out. The store is still doing business, and its sign says, “More Open than Usual.”
One of the few things I have found that are cheaper here than at home is a haircut. I paid only thirty cents the other day in the hotel barbershop, and since then I’ve seen haircuts advertised at fifteen cents. I’m going to get a haircut every day from now on — enough to last me for a year or two.
It was amazing and touching the way the Christmas spirit was kept up during the holidays. People banded together and got up Christmas trees, and chipped in to buy gifts all around. I visited more than thirty shelters during the holidays, and there was not a one that was not elaborately decorated.
I probably wouldn’t have slept a wink if it hadn’t been for the bathroom. I discovered it after midnight, when everybody else had gone to bed. The bathroom was about twenty feet square, and it had twin bathtubs! Yes, two big old-fashioned bathtubs sitting side by side with nothing between, just like twin beds. Twin bathtubs had never occurred to me before. But having actually seen them, my astonishment grew into approval. I said to myself, “Why not?” Think what you could do with twin bathtubs. You could give a party. You could invite the Lord Mayor in for tea and a tub. You could have a national slogan, “Two tubs in every bathroom.” The potentialities of twin bathtubs assumed gigantic proportions in my disturbed mind, and I finally fell asleep on the idea, all my fears forgotten.
It is hard for a Scotsman to go five minutes without giving something a funny twist, and it is usually a left-handed twist. All in all, I have found the Scots much more like Americans than the Englishmen are. I feel perfectly at home with them.
Pearl Hyde is head of the Coventry branch of the Women’s Voluntary Services. It was Pearl Hyde who fed and clothed and cheered and really saved the people of Coventry after the blitz. For more than a week she plowed around in the ashes of Coventry, wearing policeman’s pants. She never took off her clothes. She was so black they could hardly tell her from a Negro. Her Women’s Voluntary Services headquarters was bombed out, so she and her women moved across the street. Her own home was blown up, and even today she still sleeps in the police station. Pearl Hyde is a huge woman, tall and massive. Her black hair is cut in a boyish bob. And she has personality that sparkles with power and good nature. She is much better looking than in the film. And she is laughing all the time. She was just ready to dash off somewhere when I went in to see her, but she tarried a few minutes to tell me how good the Americans had been with donations.
It is against the law to leave a car that could be driven away by the Germans. You have to immobilize your car when you leave it, even though you might be walking only fifty feet away to ask a policeman for directions. In daytime, just locking the doors and taking the key counts as immobilization, but at night you have to take out some vital part, such as the distributor.
© 2016 Becky Laney of
Becky's Book Reviews
Indian Captive: The Story of Mary Jemison. Lois Lenski. 1941. HarperCollins. 298 pages. [Source: Bought]
I don't remember reading Indian Captive as a child, and that may be a good thing. I'm not sure I would have--could have--appreciated it back then. Not that the book isn't for children, but I was a sensitive reader, and this one would have proved unsettling at times. I should mention that the book is set in the 1750s and 1760s.
Indian Captive is the story of Mary Jemison. (Though she's called Molly throughout the book, I believe.) As a girl, twelve years old, if I recall, she's taken captive along with her family by Indians. The night before the capture, they'd been warned by a frantic neighbor. The neighbor was advising anyone and everyone he came into contact with to run, that danger was imminent. Would it have made a difference if he'd listened? Maybe, but, probably not. Molly is the only survivor from her family. Not that she realizes this until the end of the novel. Though the Indians captured a dozen or so people initially, at the end, it was narrowed down to two. Molly was bought (though I'm not sure if sold/bought are the right words?) by two grieving women. For better or worse, she's been adopted by the tribe, and her new life has begun. While at first she struggles to make peace with all the changes, she does eventually come to accept her new reality and to even embrace it. That doesn't mean that when she comes across a white man (or woman) that she doesn't excitedly start speaking English. But it means that she finds a way to belong and does in fact find her identity within the tribe.
Indian Captive is rich in detail. It's historical fiction that seeks to capture a way of life, a culture (Seneca). Day by day, season by season, year after year. Details are layered throughout. As an adult reader, I must admit I'm skeptical of any book from this time period with Indians as the subject. Is the portrayal of Indian life accurate? fair? insulting? offensive? My guess is that it's better than some perhaps, but, not necessarily great. © 2015 Becky Laney of
Becky's Book Reviews
Little Town on the Prairie. Laura Ingalls Wilder. Illustrated by Garth Williams. 1941. 374 pages. [Source: Library]
I enjoyed rereading Little Town on the Prairie. Is it completely perfect in every way? Probably not. (The idea of Pa joining in a minstrel show performance still doesn't sit well with me. Just like I don't like the dialogue of the Native American in The Long Winter--when he warns them of the winter ahead. But other than that, I don't have any real issue with the book). In this book:
- The family moves back to their homestead for the summer and fall
- The Ingalls get a cat AFTER Pa's hair is "cut" by mice in the night!
- Laura gets a job assisting a seamstress
- Laura and Carrie and Pa go to a fourth of July celebration; lemonade is involved
- Blackbirds come and threaten numerous crops; some of the corn is saved and will be dried for winter consumption
- Mary goes away to college
- The family moves back to the town for the winter
- Laura and Carrie attend school
- Nellie Oleson is one of the 'country' girls attending school
- Nellie becomes teacher's pet; the new teacher is Eliza Jane Wilder
- Laura gets her first ride behind Almanzo's horses (she's running late for school, she had to order name cards)
- A Literary Society (of sorts) is formed in town for the winter
- The book actually covers TWO winters in town, but, we barely learn anything about the spring/summer/and fall in between the winters.
- Laura attends several revival meetings and Almanzo asks to see her home each night!
- Almanzo hints that he wants to take her sledding.
- Laura gets her teaching certificate
Plenty of lovely things happen. I love the progression of the series. This book just makes me smile as I'm reading it. I often forget just how much I like this one since I love, love, love THE LONG WINTER, and I always associate These Happy Golden Years with having THE romance. I don't give this one enough credit for being OH-SO-GOOD.
© 2015 Becky Laney of
Becky's Book Reviews
I had never seen this movie before even though I grew up with a mother who watched movies on TV every afternoon. Growing up I was not a Bogie (Bogart's nick name) fan. I found something else to do with my time if one of his movies was on the TV. However, over the years I have come to enjoy his work.
One night last week I saw Across The Pacific for the first time. Bogie never smiled so much than in this movie. I was surprised at how good he looked when he smiled naturally.
His name was Rick, like in
Casablanca (made after this movie in 1942,) but he was not playing his usual tough guy, though his character was that too. In this role Bogie shows his wide range of talents.
Mary Astor is also much changed in Across The Pacific. Like-wise, Mary's role brings fun and shows more of her talent than I had seen in her movies. She and Bogie have a playful rapport in this World War II romantic comedy-drama about spies, the war to come, and ironical since this plot was written before the US war with Japan. The only problem I saw, though not a show stopper in the movie, was when Mary Astor's character happily runs into the hero's arm at the end when her beloved father has just been killed.
On a side note, the original story was written shortly before the attack on Pearl Harper where the plot line was to take place and the movie was to be filmed. They quickly moved the story line and shooting to Panama. The title remained the same even though they were not in the Pacific at all. I loved this movie!
~JD
Faro's Daughter. Georgette Heyer. 1941. 288 pages.
I absolutely loved Georgette Heyer's Faro's Daughter. In the first chapter, readers meet Mr. Ravenscar (Max) as he visits with his sister, Lady Mablethorpe. She wants him to to prevent an imprudent match of his nephew with an unsuitable young woman, Deborah Grantham. This "vulgar" woman lives in a gaming house with her aunt! He goes to visit the young lady in the gaming house, even gambles with her for a while. His conclusion: she's not a good match for a gentleman, certainly, but she might be easily bought off. Instead of talking with his nephew, he'll talk to her instead and offer her money if she promises to never marry the boy.
Readers just don't see this from his point of view, however, readers also get to meet Deborah for themselves. And Deborah finds Ravenscar's offer insulting and infuriating. How dare he assume she could be bought off! Though she hadn't any plans on marrying Adrian, she know plans to do just that. Well. If she
has to. She's hoping that that won't be necessary after all. If only she could get Adrian to fall in love with someone else...
Ravenscar and Deborah hate each other so much, their interactions are so intense. They bring out the worst in each other...
I loved this one so much! It's a great read cover to cover. So many interesting characters and stories.
Read Faro's Daughter
- If you love Pride and Prejudice, North and South, Much Ado About Nothing, etc. Romance stories where the hero and heroine HATE each other before they fall in love...
- If you enjoy Georgette Heyer
- If you enjoy Regency romances, historical romances
© 2013 Becky Laney of
Becky's Book Reviews
My Theodosia. Anya Seton. 1941/2007. Chicago Review Press. 432 pages.
At six o'clock on the morning of Midsummer Day, 1800, Aaron Burr's estate, Richmond Hill, was already well into the day's bustle of preparation for the gala dinner to be given that evening in honor of Theodosia's birthday.My Theodosia was Anya Seton's first novel. When possible I like to begin at the beginning with a new-to-me author. Saving the first book for the end, well, it
can end in disappointment. Because if an author keeps improving, then each book will show it.
The heroine, Theodosia Burr, is the daughter of Aaron Burr. At his greatest, her father was Vice President of the United States of America. At his worst, he was a wanted man accused of murder and treason, etc. His greatest fan, by far, was always his daughter. I think he could have done anything, said anything, and she still would have been there standing by him, supporting him with every breath in her body.
I think it is important for readers to know exactly what to expect from My Theodosia. It is NOT historical romance. That is while the novel focuses on Theodosia and the men in her life--her first kiss which came from Washington Irving on her seventeenth birthday, her husband, Joseph Alston, her 'true love', Meriweather Lewis, the novel isn't love and romance and passion. And it most certainly is not about happily ever afters.
My Theodosia is historical fiction. Some who have read it might even call it "historical" FICTION. I'm not one to judge the historical accuracy--or historical inaccuracy--of a novel when I haven't read any nonfiction at all about the subject. I don't have a clue if Anya Seton's characters resemble the people they're supposed to faithfully represent. I do know that in the author's note she claims that the novel is "historically accurate in every detail." And she claims to have read all the Burr biographies, and the published letters of Aaron Burr, and some of the unpublished letters of Aaron Burr. And she claims to have had three sources for the romance between Meriwether Lewis. There are certainly plenty of reviews that say differently. That claim this novel is 100% fiction with no truth in it
at all.
The historical time period covered is 1800 to 1812. And for those interested in this period in American history, the novel may prove interesting. I certainly found it fascinating. I read it in two days. And I wasn't bored at any point during the narrative. I can't say that I loved the characters exactly--they were too flawed for that. Aaron Burr being very charismatic and manipulative. But I can say that I found the story compelling and tragic. Maybe I found it fascinating because I didn't know
that much. Yes, I knew about the duel. But I didn't know much else. And I certainly didn't know about Mexico. So it definitely held my attention.
© 2011 Becky Laney of
Becky's Book Reviews
Five Little Pigs. (Hercule Poirot) Agatha Christie. 1941/2006. Black Dog & Leventhal. 256 pages.
Hercule Poirot looked with interest and appreciation at the young woman who was being ushered into the room. I've enjoyed a couple of other Hercule Poirot stories this past month--including The Mysterious Affair at Styles, Murder on the Orient Express, and ABC Murders--but, I must say that Five Little Pigs is my favorite so far. In this one, Hercule Poirot is investigating a sixteen-year-old murder--a case of poisoning. He's doing this at the request of a young woman, the child of the victim and convicted murderer. Before Caroline Crale's death, she wrote her daughter--then just a child--a letter saying that she was innocent of the crime. Now that the child is all grown up, now that she's twenty-one and has read that letter for herself, well, she needs to know one way or another before she can move on with her life, before she can get married and have kids of her own. Is her mother guilty of the crime of which she's been convicted? If she is innocent, was it suicide like the defense argued? Or was the crime committed by someone else?
Poirot's investigations will lead him to five people: Philip Blake (the best friend who proclaims his hatred for the wife a little too loudly), Meredith Blake (Philip's brother who had a fondness for growing poisonous plants in his lab at the time of the crime), Elsa Greer (the adulteress who announced the affair to the wife the day before), Angela Warren (the half-sister of Mrs. Caroline Crale, she was being 'raised' by her older sister), and Cecilia Williams (the governess hired to teach Angela). These were the people closest to the victim, Amyas Crale, on the last two days of his life. Could one of them be guilty of the crime?
I loved this one. I loved how this one was told. I loved the characters. I loved the narration. I loved how we learn about the crime, how the clues are revealed. Poirot is interviewing these people, but he's also urging them to write their own accounts of the crime.
My favorite lines:
"M. Poirot, you--you don't look exactly the way I pictured you."
"And I am old, am I not? Older than you imagined?"
"Yes, that too." She hesitated. "I'm being frank, you see. I want--I've got to have--the best."
"Rest assured," said Hercule Poirot, "I am the best!"
Carla said, "You're not modest....All the same, I'm inclined to take you at your word."
Poirot said placidly, "One does not, you know, employ merely the muscles. I do not need to bend and measure the footprints and pick up the cigarette ends and examine the bent blades of grass. It is enough for me to sit back in my chair and think. It is this"--he tapped his egg-shaped head--"this, that functions!" (6)
"It is inevitable," Hercule Poirot said. "Women will always see a private detective. Men will tell him to go to the devil."
"Some women might tell him to go to the devil too."
"After they have seen him--not before."
"Perhaps." (103)
© 2011 Becky Laney of
Becky's Book Reviews
The Body in the Library. (Miss Marple) Agatha Christie. 1941/2006. Black Dog & Leventhal. 192 pages.
Mrs. Bantry was dreaming. The Bantrys are about to get a great shock when this novel opens. They're awakened by their maid, Mary, proclaiming that she's found a dead body in their library! The body is that of a young, beautiful woman--a blond. At first Colonel Bantry doesn't believe it could be true. But Mrs. Bantry handles the situation surprisingly well: with a quick phone call to Miss Marple. She is more than happy to 'help' the police detectives solve another case. Who is this dead woman? How did she come to be in their library? Who killed her and why?
I enjoyed this mystery very much. I am enjoying my time with Miss Marple. She's such a wonderful character! So many of the characters in these Agatha Christie novels are well done. I'm enjoying the descriptions and dialogue very much! There's just something so cozy, so charming about these stories.
"I like your friend," said Adelaide Jefferson to Mrs. Bantry. The two women were sitting on the terrace.
"Jane Marple's a very remarkable woman," said Mrs. Bantry.
"She's nice too," said Addie, smiling.
"People call her a scandalmonger," said Mrs. Bantry, "but she isn't really."
"Just a low opinion of human nature?"
"You could call it that." (124)
"As I've told you, I've got a very suspicious mind. My nephew Raymond tells me, in fun, of course--that I have a mind like a sink. He says that most Victorians have. All I can say is that the Victorians knew a good deal about human nature." (184)
© 2011 Becky Laney of
Becky's Book Reviews
_02.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/33
</p>
<div class="post-comments">
1 Comments on <em>My Theodosia</em>, last added: 7/26/2011</div> <!-- end post-comments -->
<a class = "displaycomment" href="javascript:toggleLayer( "View comments for this post"){kind=small}
Display Comments
This book looks really good! I love it when a book is written from different perspectives; it adds a new level of complexity to the story. I look forward to more reviews from you, thank you!