I intended to read E. M. Delafield’s The Way Things Are, a novel about a disenchanted housewife. After fifty pages, however, I discovered I was reading the wrong Delafield.
Virago covers look remarkably alike, and I had picked up Thank Heaven Fasting instead of The Way Things Are. Although the former is a gripping story of debutante life, I kept wondering when the debutante would become a housewife!
I think I’ll put Thank Heaven Fasting aside. Although I adore Delafield’s Diary of a Provincial Lady, a serial about domestic life that originally appeared in Time and Tide, I have never found equals among her other novels. And I am not fond of debutantes. Full disclosure: I used to teach Latin to debutantes. It was exasperating when they were excused from class to have their makeup done or take waltzing lessons. N.B. Many recovered from their debutante phase, I hear.
I just finished the first book in Montgomery’s trilogy, Emily of New Moon. Emily is quite a bit like Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables: both Emily and Anne are orphans and aspiring writers. When Emily’s father dies of consumption, no one wants to take Emily in. Her relatives draw lots and it falls to strict Aunt Elizabeth, soft-hearted Aunt Laura, and whimsical Cousin Jimmy to take her home to New Moon farm. Aunt Elizabeth does not like children, but Emily loves New Moon and Aunt Laura and Cousin Jimmy are fond of her. It takes longer to win over Elizabeth.
I especially enjoyed Emily’s diary entries written in the form of letters to her dead father. Her observations are delightful, and she befriends many eccentrics. She records the colorful curses of her best friend, Ilse, the neglected daughter of “an infidel” doctor. The two girls constantly quarrel, and one night during a sleepover Ilse challenges Emily to sleep in the “haunted” attic, which Emily does because she cannot let Ilse get the better of her. It ends in her committing a heroic act. Emily also enjoys visits to Lofty John, a farmer who has feuded with the New Moon residents for decades. Naturally the aunts don’t know about this friendship. Emily eats more than a few of his apples, one of which she believes is poisoned. The death letter she writes to Ilse is hilarious.
I kept laughing over the dialogue. Aunt Elizabeth is frequently exasperated with Emily.
“Don’t ever let me see you kissing a cat again,” she ordered.
“Oh, all right,” said Emily cheerfully. “I’ll only kiss her when you don’t see me after this.”
“I don’t want any of your pertness, miss. You are not to kiss cats at all.”
“But Autn Elizabeth, I didn’t kiss her on the mouth, of course. I just kissed her between the ears. It’s nice–won’t you just try it for once and see for yourself?”
I’m grateful to Alice Thomas Ellis for introducing me to Emily!