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A few further thoughts relating to “Mrs Dalloway” #dallowayday #20BOS26 Book 6

June 26, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , 3 Comments

In my #DallowayDay post on Mark Hussey’s biography of the book, I mentioned that I’d been intrigued to learn that Virginia Woolf had written an introduction to the US Modern Library edition of “Mrs Dalloway”; and I was even more pleased to learn that I had this in “The Mrs Dalloway Reader”, a volume I’d picked up many years ago (2015!!) but somehow never read. Truth be told, I was a little wary of it; I’d read vaguely troubling reviews about some of the content and so I checked out what was actually in the book – for reference, here is the contents list:

So as well as the actual book itself and the Dalloway short stories, there are a few additional items by Woolf plus a lot of essays by other people. It’s the essays which caused the most comment in the reviews I looked at so I made the decision that I wouldn’t read them. Instead, I decided to focus on Woolf’s own words and read the introduction, the diary extracts and the letter. These were, of course, very satisfying…

Books are the flowers or fruit stuck here and there on a tree which has its roots deep down in the earth of our earliest life, of our first experiences.

The introduction itself is so interesting, as Woolf reveals a little of plans she had for the book, and her feelings about the relationship between author, writer and book. The diary entries didn’t always seem relevant to “Dalloway” itself but nevertheless I always love an excuse to read Woolf! And the letter, which is to Vanessa Bell, regarding the naming of Bell’s child, is definitely tangential although again a treat to read.

As for the essays, well these *do* look to be a bit of a mixed bag. I took a quick glance at the Elaine Showalter one, and bizarrely it seemed to be focused only on “A Room of One’s Own”; and the Gordon one looks at “The Waves”. So frankly, I didn’t go any further with these! I may go back and read the E.M. Forster at some point, but nothing else really calls to me, and I did find myself questioning the actual title of the book as so much of the material in it *doesn’t* seem connected with “Dalloway”!

So if I’m honest, I guess I don’t really need much of the content included in the this collection; I have multiple copies of “Dalloway” itself, as well as the supporting stories; the Mansfield story is in at least one of my collections of her work; and I have volumes of both Woolf’s diaries and letters too. So the only thing which is really new to me is the introduction and I will keep the book for the time being just because of that. It was fascinating to read, and so unusual to see Woolf introducing her work like this. But the essays are not for me, and I’ll continue to love “Mrs. Dalloway” in my own way! 😀

“…all I could see was death…” #jozefczapski #nyrbclassics #20BOS26 Book 5

June 24, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , 16 Comments

Jozef Czapski is an author whose books have made a couple of appearances on the blog previously. Back in 2019, I wrote about “Lost Time“, a collection of lectures he gave on Proust whilst incarcerated in a Soviet concentration camp; and in 2022 I shared my thoughts on his “Memories of Starobielsk“, covering his time in that camp. Both titles were issued by NYRB Classics, and they’ve also published two other titles by and about him: a biography by Eric Karpeles, and a book I’m covering today: “Inhuman Land: Searching for the Truth in Soviet Russia, 1941–1942” (translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones). It’s a powerful and sobering read, and one which resonates in our fractured modern world.

As I’ve mentioned before, Josef Czapski was a remarkable man. A polymath, his life took in painting, writing and essays as well as military and diplomatic careers. Czapski lived through the bulk of the 20th century; born in Poland in 1896, he was a student in St. Petersburg during the Russian Revolution, a painter in Paris mingling with the likes of Picasso, and during the Second World War fought as an office in the Polish army. Somehow, miraculously, he and a group of less than four hundred men survived the Soviet murder of more than 20,000 Polish officers (the Katyn Massacre); instead, they were incarcerated in a Soviet prison camp 250 miles north of Moscow. “Inhuman Land” tells the story of his time after release from the camp, and his search for the truth about those missing officers; it reveals much about a pivotal time during WW2.

Poland fought in the war with the Allies against Nazi Germany; at this point, the Soviet Union was neutral with a non-aggression pact agreed between themselves and Hitler. Bordering the Soviet Union, Poland was vulnerable and when invaded by Germany and Russia, the country was partitioned up between them. However, when sides switched in 1941, as Germany invaded the Soviet Union, suddenly Poland was freed to form an army to fight alongside Allied troops. That’s a very simplified version of a complex situation, but it meant that officers like Czapski were released from camps and set off to form those armies. That in itself was a difficult and traumatic task, as the conditions were horrific, there was a shortage of all basic necessities such as food, clothing, medicines and weapons, and many of the Polish people were ill or dying.

Czapski’s narrative reveals the horrors of the situation; but he had an initial mission and that was to try to track down the missing Polish officers who had disappeared from the camps. At the time, it was not know that they had been massacred, and so he travels from place to place, including a visit to Moscow, to try to get to the bottom of things. Everywhere he meets evasions, delaying tactics and lies; and eventually it becomes clear that he’ll never be able to get any answers from the Soviet authorities. His accounts of what it’s like to try to negotiate Soviet bureaucracy are chilling.

Nobody could possibly understand it—it would take a brilliant writer, a superb observer, a new Tolstoy or Proust, Russian or Polish, to describe the atmosphere that prevailed in Russia, at every moment, and the things that would suddenly give the game away in the course of ordinary, everyday life—a small gesture or a memorable glance. It wasn’t the difficult conditions or the hunger—all that was less awful than the suppression of humanity, the mute look in the eyes of people among whom just about everybody had lost at least one of their closest relatives to the camps in the north.

So Czapski travels south with his fellow survivors, providing education and support where he can, witnessing and recording his compatriots’ sufferings, and all the while trying to retain his humanity. The would-be army crossed Soviet Asia into Iran, Iraq and Palestine before eventually fighting in the pivotal battle at Monte Cassino. All the while, Poland and its people hoped the west would stand by them after the war and ensure they retained their country; however, it’s very clear that the Allies totally abandoned Poland and the country was one of many which suffered from the ever-shifting European borders of the 20th century.

“Inhuman Land” is a remarkable book on many levels. Firstly, as I’ve seen before, Czapski writes so well (and here the translation is elegantly done by the esteemed Antonia Lloyd-Jones). The subject matter is dark and harsh – Czapski does not shy away from relating the horrors of war, the casual brutality and the mass killings – and yet there are parts of the book which reflect a lyrical beauty. The author’s artist’s eye records the changing landscape around him, the differing countries through which he travels, and the people he encounters on the way. There is a touching meeting with the poet Anna Akhmatova in exile which will stay with me. Czapski notes the fact that, as ever, the powerful never suffer the privations of the ordinary people; and at some points in the narrative it’s hard not to think the human race is a hideous one and that the world might be better off without it…

The book comes in two parts; the first section, covering the search for the truth about the officers, and the journey south as part of the army, was originally published soon after the war; later additions were made. Part two was written some 20 years later and allows Czapski to look back at his experiences within the Polish army, as well as a final chapter in which the author allows himself to contemplate Germany and the German people. This is particularly interesting, as when he was writing the war was still very recent, and Czapski finds that the German people he encounters are already turning their back on history. He contemplates how humans can behave with brutality towards one group of people, yet with tenderness towards their own kind; it’s a question that’s still very relevant today and I don’t believe it’s ever been answered.

Centuries go by, regimes change, but people remain, just the same, despite the spread of education and propaganda.

I started reading “Inhuman Land” alongside “Ulysses” at the end of May, but soon put it aside to read on its own once I had finished Joyce. It’s a deeply absorbing book; often hard to read, stark and troubling, and you have to brace yourself at times. The fate of ordinary people, children and prisoners who’ve been through the camp system is devastating; and books like this do bear importance witness of the many horrors of 20th century conflict. Alas, as I’ve hinted, I don’t know that humanity is doing any better in the 21st century; but it’s important that we don’t forget. It’s taken a while for me to get to this book (which was released in 2019), but it’s an important and powerful read which will definitely stay with me.

(Review copy kindly provided by NYRB Classics, for which many thanks).

A Recent Renard Roundup! #20BOS26 Books 2, 3 and 4

June 22, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , , , , , 16 Comments

It’s a while since I featured any of the regular Renard arrivals on the Ramblings, but they continue to pop through the letterbox (as part of my subscription with them) and each book is a little gem. So I thought I would share a few recent incomings, which were wonderful to dip into when I needed a little distraction. One thing I love about Renard is the variety of the titles they issue, and these three volumes reflect that.

The Werewolf by Clemence Housman

One of Renard’s strengths is the rediscovery of intriguing works which have disappeared from view, and this book is a good example. Clemence Housman was an author, illustrator and activist for Women’s Suffrage, yet I’d not hear of her before (although her brothers A.E. and Laurence Housman are likely much more remembered). “Werewolf…” is an interesting take on the classic story of the shapeshifting beast in that the evil creature is female! Set in a rustic Scandinavian village, where the domestic roles are clearly defined, the story explores how that community is fractured on the arrival of a beautiful woman, known as White Fell.

One of a pair of twins is entranced by the visitor; the other sees through her wiles. A conflict erupts between the two men which leads to a dramatic pursuit through a hostile snow-filled landscape and eventual violence. It’s a gripping tale in its own right, but I think it hints at a lot more; there’s an underlying exploration of the role of women in a changing world, with the physical attractions of the woman proving irresistible to some. She doesn’t fit in with the norms, and will be hunted down because of that. There’s a lot to chew over in this intriguing little book and it’s good to see it back in print in this handsome edition.

Conversations with a Machine by Ruth Irwin

Renard have also issued some excellent poetry collections, and this new book from Ruth Irwin is particularly fascinating. We are, of course, in the middle of a massive debate about the use of Artificial Intelligence, with many feeling the arts are under threat from this. In her book, Irwin sets up a dialogue with an AI machine, entering into a collaboration with it to write a Shakespearean sonnet sequence. The results are set out in differing types, so that the reader can see who wrote what and the poems interrogate the whole process. It really is a fascinating experiment, and Irwin provides a link to a web page which gives more information about how she approached the writing of the book.

By providing the machine with prompts, Irwin sets up a dialogue which explores the effect that AI will have on all of us, but particularly in the arts. Question and answer, call and response, develop into something which is lyrical and often self-referential. Obviously, the poet has control at all times, presumably editing the responses into the poems. The results are thought-provoking and have left me musing on what human creativity could get from machines. However, for what you might call a genuine response to the world around us, I think we will always need real poets and not AI. As Irwin states at one point:

But what you miss is hands and tongues and eyes;
You cannot gaze on star-encrusted skies.

I must admit I did wonder about the use of AI in a Renard book, as I know the publisher is staunchly carbon positive, and so I was pleased to see a statement in the book to say that they had planted enough trees to offset the effects of the AI. Proof, if it were needed, that Renard are a caring publisher!

The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

This is a poem which needs no introduction, and it’s one I absolutely love. However, when I saw that Renard were issuing a new edition I was very keen to get hold of it for a number of reasons. Firstly, this lovely book (with French flaps, hurrah!) comes with marvellous illustrations by Édouard Manet which appeared in the first French edition, and they really are a treat. Secondly, also included is an essay by Poe, ‘The Philosophy of Composition’, which is based on his process of writing the poem

“The Raven” itself is a poem which I know well, and I’ve read and listened to it many times; I’ve also loved Edmund Crispin’s wonderful chapter riffing on the verse in “Holy Disorders“! This time round, focusing just on the poem, I appreciated it so much more. The construction is brilliant, the rhythm hypnotic and the way the poem builds to its climax is inspired. The essay reproduced with it (which is where the illustrations sit) is fascinating in its own right; in it, Poe discusses the whole process of producing his poem, and whether his method of working is typical of poets I couldn’t say. But it is really, really interesting and makes the perfect accompaniment to the poem itself.

So as you can see, my personal library (and my Renard shelf!) has been very much enriched by recent releases by the publisher. I love the variety they produce, love the quality of their books and always look forward to seeing what they’re going to release next. If you fancy having a monthly bookish treat or just want to inspect their catalogue, you can check out their website here!

“…a cat’s egoism…” #colette #readingthemeow2026

June 19, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , 32 Comments

Over at the Literary Potpourri blog, lovely blogger Mallika is running her Reading the Meow event this week; I’ve been able to take part a couple of times before and I was determined to do so again this year. I wasn’t initially sure what I was going to choose, as I always try to pick something off the TBR for reading events, until I suddenly had a flash of inspiration. I have tentatively started reading my way through the books of Colette in order, and I realised that I had skipped one particular title when I re-read all of the Claudine books recently. That was a slim volume, written when Colette was still under the wings of her first husband, Willy, and I’ve only recently managed to get hold of a copy. The title in French is “Dialogues de bêtes”, rendered here in English by translator Maire Kelly as “Barks and Purrs“. Colette was known for her love of her animal companions, and as you might gather, one of these is a feline – so the book was the perfect choice!

First published in 1904, “Purrs” is an amusing work which reads rather like a playlet! The characters are Toby-dog (a French bulldog) and Kiki-the-Demure (a Maltese cat); also present are He and She, described as the Master and Mistress but of minor importance, and obviously representing Colette and Willy. In six sections we witness the conversations between dog and cat, against the background of the lives of the ‘two-paws’ as they are referred to, and their characters are well defined from the start. Toby is definitely not the brightest button in the tin, although he adores Her and is incredibly loyal; Kiki, in contrast, is sharp and clever, devoted to Him, and determined to outsmart Toby when she can.

So they chat and wrangle, discuss their owners, worry when dinner is delayed, are alarmed by storms and have hostile thoughts about a visiting animal. Travel upsets them both; and when their mistress is ill, their whole world is turned upside down. But what’s very clever about the way Colette writes is that the narrative, and the animals’ discussions, reveals much about the human life going on around them. We see Willy scratching away on paper; Colette communing with nature; and these little vignettes give quite a window onto how Colette wanted to project the image of her life at the time.

What’s also notable is how well Colette captures the nature of both types of creature. Toby is solid, loyal and, well, dog-like! Kiki, by contrast, has all the qualities we’re expect of a feline – a little stand-offish, perhaps sneaky, cruel when it comes to catching and eating other creatures, and very full of himself. However, when it comes down to it, he’s just as dependent on the humans as Toby is, and both are lap-creatures!

“Purrs” is a charming and delightful read, beautifully written and laced with Colette’s humour and wonderful descriptions; as with the Claudine books, she was already capturing her love of nature and putting it into print, and that element is present here too. At this point, Colette and Willy were very much still together (they would separate in 1906) and Colette had the Claudine books already under her belt; in 1907’s “Retreat from Love” she would perhaps try to finish that part of her life, and move onto her own writing. But here, we get a lovely glimpse into what her married life might have been like, as well as a portrait of her beloved animals, and it’s a treat!

A word on my edition of the book (and I’ll try not to rant about the fact that I think there needs to be a complete set of English translations of Colette). I picked this up on A***on a few years back, and I think it’s one of those POD type books. It’s named as coming from Dodo Press, but there’s no real background information provided, no detail about the translator, and no credit for the lovely illustrations contained inside. Although I’ve managed to gather a good collection of Colette’s work in translation, it’s often hard to track down some of the more obscure books and really it would be lovely to have a uniform set. Putting that aside, though, Kiki is a wonderful creation and I’m glad I got to encounter him and Toby for Reading the Meow!!

Sharing some reactions to “Ulysses” for #bloomsday!

June 16, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , 57 Comments

June is a month where two significant works of literature are celebrated, and I’ve already taken part in one of these events with my last post on the genesis of Virginia Woolf’s “Mrs. Dalloway”. However, today is designated as “Bloomsday”, for the very good reason that James Joyce’s “Ulysses” takes place over one day – 16th June 1904 – and the main protagonist of his story is one Leopold Bloom. As I hinted in my end of May round-up, I have been spending time with a Big Significant Book, one that I had wanted to read for a long time, and that is of course “Ulysses”. Having completed my read of Proust, I figured this was the perfect moment, and so I spent the end of May immersed in Joyce’s work – and what a book it is!

Now, I realised that “Ulysses” has possibly had more written about it than any other book going, so that does beg the question as to what can I add to that discourse? So I will simply share some of my responses to the book and what stood out from it for me. Plot-wise, the book (as I said) takes place over one day in Dublin, during which the characters move about the city and go about their business. Aside from Bloom himself (the son of a Hungarian Jew and an Irish Catholic), the main focus is on Stephen Dedalus and Molly Bloom, a singer and Leopold’s wife. Dedalus had previously appeared in Joyce’s other books and is considered, I believe, the alter ego of the author himself. A young man working as a teacher, his path through the city will cross with Bloom’s throughout the day until they meet up in one of the longer sections at the end of the night for some dramatic antics. Molly is a presence throughout “Ulysses” but only makes a full appearance in the final section of the book.

Anyway, rather than attempt a coherent review, here are some bullet points with some of my thoughts – and I am very much scratching the surface!!

  • “Ulysses” (1040 pages in my edition) is not the longest book I’ve ever read, but I would say it’s very likely the the most complex. This is very much to do with the experimental nature of the writing, and the book’s structure. Split into eighteen sections, these apparently mirror “The Odyssey”, with Bloom’s voyage echoing that of Ulysses himself. I’ll say more about the structure at the end of this post.
  • The style of the book varies dramatically in the different sections; from relatively straightforward and lyrical prose, to writing which comes close to that of “Finnegans Wake”, there’s much to take in. Section 15, known as “Circe”, is set out like a play script and is a raucous and energetic narrative where Bloom and Dedalus clash with a variety of colourful characters. In contrast, part 13 (“Nausicaa”) is written in lyrical, almost straightforward prose, exploring an encounter by the sea of Leopold and a young girl, Gerty MacDowell. Although they never meet, she has a dramatic effect on him from a distance, and this is one of the less complex sections of the book to read; nevertheless, we do still see things from inside Gerty’s head, continuing the stream-of-consciousness approach.
  • Much of the story is presented as an interior monologue following the random nature of the thought process, mostly that of Bloom, and this was no doubt groundbreaking at the time. Although Woolf is regarded as at the forefront of this kind of writing, I would say she’s definitely more structured than Joyce. Similarly, Dorothy Richardson is now being credited for her stream of consciousness prose, and although Joyce takes this much further, I would say she’s closer to him than Woolf.
  • One slightly disturbing element to the book is the anti-Semitism which Bloom meets with on his journey around Dublin. Snide and disparaging remarks from other characters are a regular reminder of the prejudice he faces, despite having converted to Catholicism on his marriage to Molly.
  • On its first (and I believe subsequent) publication, “Ulysses” was prosecuted for obscenity; so how does it read now? Well, it’s hardly pornographic! Yes, it’s earthy and scatological, there is discussion of subjects such as masturbation, copulation, bodily functions, menstruation and all things physical, but the language is never graphic – even the word ‘arse’ is shown as ‘a–e’ in my copy. I imagine Joyce’s focus on the physical was shocking and groundbreaking at the time but he was recording the reality of life in the city as he saw it, and that’s fine.
  • Ah, the city; Dublin itself is as much the main character as anyone or anything else in the book, and I really understand why there are ‘Ulysses’ maps and trails round the city, as I can imagine it would be enormous fun to trace the route of the characters! Joyce had been living abroad for some time when he began to recreate Dublin from his memories, and I believe many of the characters and settings are drawn from his own past. No wonder the city celebrates him!
  • There is a thread running through the book relating to Shakespeare, and in particularly his play ‘Hamlet’, and I sensed a resonance between the playwright’s loss of his young son and Bloom’s loss of his own child, Rudy. There’s a *lot* of discussion of Shakespeare between the characters (alongside all kinds of other intellectual, political and religious ruminations) and this is a fascinating aspect of the book.
  • Molly Bloom is often referenced with relation to “Ulysses” and it’s not hard to see why. The final section, her soliloquy, is eight long unpunctuated paragraphs following her thought processes as she lies next to Leopold in bed. It’s clear throughout the book that their marriage is in a rocky state; their one surviving child, Milly, has left home to go off to work; Leopold finds relief elsewhere when he can; and Molly is not faithful either. Yet, as the monologue builds and comes to an end, with Molly recollecting how it was when she and Leopold be came a couple, the prose becomes stunningly hypnotic, building to a powerful climax. It’s a masterpiece and finishes the book on a triumphant note.

It has to be said that “Ulysses” is in no way an easy book to read. The shifting in styles, the long, sinuous sentences and the incoherence of the narrative (in that it reflects normal thought processes) requires concentration. Additionally, Joyce invents plenty of words of his own, which do mostly make sense and don’t always have the effect of “Wake”; nevertheless, more attention is needed here. Despite this, it’s most definitely worth reading, as the prose often becomes mesmerising and there are passages of great beauty. It’s immersive, absorbing, funny, scurrilous and really like nothing else I’ve read. Needless to say, I ended up with a massive book hangover! Did I understand all of it? Not by a long chalk! “Ulysses” is riddled with allusion and references, and so I decided to simply read it for the story and the language; I can go back later for a more studied reponse. The timing was right for me to read this now, and I’m so glad I did – happy Bloomsday!

*****

I wanted to add a little coda to this post about the edition of “Ulysses” which I read. This was a gift from Mr. Kaggsy some years back and it’s an attractive hardback edition which was published by O’Brien Press in 2013. Endorsed by The James Joyce Centre, I think it differs a little from other editions…

An example of the illustrations

For a start, the book comes with b/w illustrations of parts of the city by Emma Byrne, and one of these is featured at the beginning of each of the 18 sections. These are a nice addition, and every one bears a time which presumably represents when the action in the section is taking place. The text is taken from the 1922 first edition, and comes with an introduction by Joyce’s grand-nephew, Bob Joyce, who does confess that he’s never read all of the book.

However, I do have to apply a couple of caveats. Firstly, I don’t know think the original book was published with breaks or any kind of headings between parts, apart from the fact it was divided into three sections. I don’t have an issue with the ones inserted here, as it does punctuate the book a little, but I thought it worth mentioning.

Secondly, there is literally no supporting material at all, and your attitude towards this may depend! I enjoyed reading it simply as it was first seen (apart from what I’ve said in the previous paragraph) and didn’t worry too much about the references, quotes and allusions. However, I definitely feel that on a re-read I would want notation of some kind (even If I ignored some of it!) and I think I would go for an annotated edition next time. There are small reproductions at the end of this edition of a list of changes Joyce made to the original edition but this is frankly not a lot of use as a) it’s very small and b) none of the page numbers match up with this copy. The page size is quite small, which is why the book comes out at over 1000 pages, though the type is of reasonable size.

Would I recommend this edition? I’m not sure, to be honest. Although it’s a nice hefty little hardback and the illustrations are a lovely bonus, I think I would definitely want a slightly more scholarly issue with some supporting material. As it was, I found the Wikipedia entry on the book to be a very useful tool whilst reading the book, and if you have a simple edition of “Ulysses” I suggest making use of that. I enjoyed reading this one, though, so well done Mr. K. for finding it for me!!

To end, I thought I would share one of my favourite tracks by the band Jefferson Airplane; it comes from one of the first vinyl records I ever bought, “After Bathing At Baxters”, which I still love, and in this song, Grace Slick riffs on “Ulysses”…

Celebrating one of my favourite novels for #dallowayday

June 13, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , 52 Comments

It’s no secret that I’m a huge fan of Virginia Woolf, and I’ve written before (more than once, no doubt!) about how “Mrs Dalloway” was a pivotal book in my life, as well as sharing my thoughts on a re-read. As is known, the story takes place over one day in June, and there has been a dedicated “Dalloway Day” for some time now; I’m not sure this always on the same date, but this year it’s today, 13th June. Now, I’ve always wanted to take part, but I’m not at the point of being able to re-read “Mrs Dalloway” yet… However, it occurred to me that I had lurking on the TBR a rather interesting looking volume entitled “Mrs Dalloway: Biography of a Novel” by Mark Hussey; so I decided that reading this and sharing my thoughts on it would be ideal for this year’s Dalloway Day!

In the “Biography”, Hussey (a Professor of English at Pace University, New York) traces the genesis, writing, publication and reception of Woolf’s fourth novel, and it does make fascinating reading. “Mrs Dalloway” was very much a product of its time, reflecting the post-WW1 world which was full of rapid changes. The War had caused many fractures in society, with the old norms starting to break down, and the circle in which Clarissa Dalloway moved was in some ways out of date. Hussey reveals how the after-effects of the fighting fed into the novel, as well as discussing how Woolf drew on her own mental health issues, which informed the portrayal of her character Septimus Smith.

“Mrs Dalloway” is a great war novel, an early instance of those works of the 1920s which made clear that the effects of war continue to reverberate through society long after the guns fall silent and the treaties are signed. This seems obvious now, when ‘trauma’ has become such a common term. But in showing how war’s aftermath echoes through daily life, “Mrs Dalloway” was groundbreaking.

So the first section, entitled ‘Drafting Mrs Dalloway’, explores that history; and in the second part of the book, ‘Mrs Dalloway: content and influences’, Hussey takes in the important elements which feed into the story. London, of course, is pretty much a character in its own right, and the book does reflect Woolf’s love of the city. The exploration of politics here was particularly fascinating, and also the influence of Proust.

In Part III, Hussey moves on to the publication of “Dalloway”, through its proofing process, the reactions of first readers and, indeed, the hostility aimed at the book from those who really did hate the Bloomsbury Group and its members. The fourth section follows “Dalloway” out into the world, looking at resonances with “Ulysses”, as well as exploring the interpretations over the years and how it’s continually been re-evaluated. The final part explores “Mrs Dalloway’s” legacy, revealing how it continues to be adapted and reworked for new generations. A coda looks at the 21st century, even covering the day dedicated to the book, for which I’m publishing this post!

I confess that when I first came across this book, I was a little hesitant; as “Dalloway” is so important to me, I did wonder how I would find someone else’s take on it. However, it’s clear that Woolf’s novel is also important to Hussey and so I empathised with much of what he said. His erudition is impressive and he draws on a wide range of sources, all acknowledged, to construct his arguments. He even shares an image of his own first battered copy of the book, as well as other editions he has, and his discussions of the differing versions out there was illuminating. I either didn’t know, or had forgotten, that Woolf provided a short introduction for the American Modern Library edition of the book, and after some rummaging was delighted to find that I have this in the “Mrs. Dalloway Reader” which is lurking in Mount TBR. Hussey is even-handed in his discussions of responses to the book, quoting some of the idiotic things critics have said about Woolf and her writing and allowing we readers to make our own minds up about what we think of these, which is refreshing. Although he’s obviously partisan when it comes to Woolf and her book, he resists the temptation to condemn.

I would say that you do need to have read “Mrs Dalloway” before picking up this book (despite what some online reviewers have said about this being a good way to decide if you want to read her or not…!); there are by necessity a number of spoilers, and in any event you’d want to know the book even a little to read it’s biography. If I’m truly honest, I could have done with a little less on Michael Cunningham’s “The Hours”; I acknowledge that it did a lot to bring “Dalloway” back into the public eye, but the coverage did feel slightly disproportionate to me. Additionally, I have to agree with Simon’s comment in his excellent review of the book about the amount of space given to discussion of the character of Doris Kilman; again, I didn’t think she necessarily warranted that much attention and it felt rather as if Hussey was trying to reinterpret what Woolf was doing with her to avert criticism of the author’s snobbery.

However, those are really minor quibbles, and Hussey has done a marvellous job exploring “Mrs Dalloway” and her world. Although I know a lot about Woolf and the book, I still found much food for thought here, particularly in the discussions of the context surrounding the writing of it, and the world of the time – these sections were really illuminating. The book is a joy to read and of course has had me wanting to go back to reading Woolf again. However, when checking, I realised that I have re-read all of Woolf’s novels but one during the time of the blog – so I may have to do something about that soon…

Happy Dalloway Day! ☺

 

Gritty stories in a harsh landscape – over @ShinyNewBooks!

June 11, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , , 8 Comments

I mentioned in my post on Denis Johnson‘s “Train Dreams” that I had also read his collection, “Jesus’ Son” for Shiny New Books and that review is up today.

This was the book which really catapulted Johnson into the public eye, and it’s a dark, captivating collection of stories from the underbelly of life. It made for compelling reading, and my review is here.

Celebrating the centenary of a Beat Poet #allenginsberg #20BOS26 – Book 1

June 10, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , 22 Comments

Although I revisited one of Allen Ginsberg‘s seminal poetry collections earlier in the year, for our 1961 Club reading week, I had somehow missed that 2026 is the centenary of his birth. However, a good number of social media posts alerted me recently to the fact that his 100-year celebration was on 3rd June and so I decided I must mark the day by reading some of his work! Fortunately, I remembered that I had picked up a slim anthology of his poetry issued as one of the Penguin Archive volumes, and it turned out to be the perfect book to celebrate Ginsberg’s centenary.

“Sunflower Sutra” takes its title from one of the poems included, and it contains a range of work from across Ginsberg’s life and work. The first verse, from 1949, is ‘Paterson’; the final poem, ‘After Lalon’ (1992), is from the end of Ginsberg’s time ((he died in 1997) and it’s fascinating to watch his work evolve as he ages. This little volume is a wonderful introduction to Ginsberg’s writing, as it features most of the elements you would expect from him; earthy poetry about love and sex, protest verse attacking the conservative nature of America, poignant memories of his past and friends, and reflections on nature and the world.

I was expecting to mostly read free verse or prose poetry, but was surprised to encounter some very powerful rhyming works; in fact, the poem that I think hit me most was in that format, ‘September on Jessore Road’. I had to look this one up as I hadn’t come across it before, and it was written as a response to the East Bengali refugee crisis of 1971, which Ginsberg actually witnessed. That one will stay with me.

….what’s the Work?
To ease the pain of living.
Everything else, drunken
dumbshow.

Other memorable poems touched on Ginsberg’s relationship with his Beat friends; for example, ‘Many Loves’ from 1956 explores his relationship with Jack Kerouac’s muse, Neal Cassady. It’s a wonderful mixture of earthy and tender, highlighting how much Ginsberg felt for the man. The title poem evokes a memory of a walk with Kerouac where they encounter a ragged sunflower which provokes a profound reaction from the poet. And in ‘Memory Gardens’, written shortly after Kerouac died in 1969, Ginsberg contemplates his lost friend in poignant terms. Both of these were really affecting. As well as the changes personally, the poems also reflect what was happening in the world around Ginsberg; and the later poems, musing on ageing and the decline of the body, were ones with which I could definitely identify!

“Sunflower…” is an excellent collection, which really does give a flavour of what you can expect if you explore Ginsberg’s writing further. It doesn’t, by necessity, include his two major works, “Howl” and “Kaddish” as they would take up a whole book on their own. It’s proof, however, that that Ginsberg’s shorter works could be just as powerful and effective, and it’s left me very tempted to find out if there’s a collection of his complete poems!

(Belated) happy 100th birthday, Allen Ginsberg!

Some fun with early detective stories! #rivalsofsherlockholmes #PickUpAPageTurner

June 8, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , 24 Comments

Books CONTINUE to lead to other books!!

My reading of Peter Ackroyd’s “London Under” was inspired by Nicholas Royle’s “Finders, Keepers“; and there’s a bit of a story attached to today’s book! In Ackroyd’s chapters about the London Underground system, he discussed a number of murder mysteries set there and one of these was a story by Baroness Orczy – “The Mysterious Death on the Underground Railway”. Now, I enjoyed Orczy’s ‘Lady Molly‘ stories so I was keen to read this one. A bit of digging revealed it had been included in an anthology from the early 1970s. “The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes“, and I *knew* that I had owned a copy at one point. The question, as always, was is it still in the house? And if so, where???

I felt I had seen it relatively recently, and so that limited the options. I rooted around in one of the TBR rooms, and ended up having a major reshuffle which incidentally caused me to revise the immediate pile of potential reads. Eventually I started to dig around in the donation boxes, and lo and behold! I found “Rivals…” in one of these, which was a relief. As I’m such a fan of GA crime anthologies, I figured that this would be a fun read too, which it was!

“The Rivals of Sherlock Holmes” is subtitled ‘Early Detective Stories’ and the book was edited by Hugh Greene, an alumnus of the BBC. The stories here pre-date the GA era, being set in Victorian and Edwardian London, and there were other collections following this, as well as a TV show featuring one hour adaptations of some of the stories (I vaguely remember these being on TV when I was little, but I suspect I was too young to watch them). There are thirteen stories here from ten different authors, and the range and type of mystery is varied!

Interestingly, some of the protagonists of these tales fall more into the Raffles mould rather than Holmes, and it’s fascinating to observe the different focus of the authors. They are, for reference:

Max Pemberton
Arthur Morrison
Guy Boothby
Clifford Ashdown
L.T. Meade and Robert Eustace
William Le Queux
Baroness Orczy
R. Austin Freeman
William Hope Hodgson
Ernest Bramah

Of these names, I would suspect that Orczy, Bramah and Freeman are the authors still best remembered, but all of the stories are enjoyable reads!

There are plots involving stolen jewels; absconding bank clerks; and quacks with rejuvenating potions. This kind of story definitely fits into the Holmesian mould, although there are others that lean towards modernity. “The Affair of the ‘Avalanche Bicycle and Tyre Co. Ltd.'” by Arthur Morrison, for example, is an entertaining story which deals with the craze for cycling and industrial rivalry. It’s an inventive mystery and also captures the changing world very well. “Madame Sara” by L.T. Meade and Robert Eustace has a clever murder method, although I’m please to say I worked out what it was!! Spies and international tensions features in “The Secret of the Fox Hunter” by William Le Queux and “The Submarine Boat” by Clifford Ashdown.

One particular story, “The Horse of the Invisible” by William Hope Hodgson, is a chilling tale in which a family legend appears to be threatening the life of a young woman; the detective explains *most* of the events, although some are left in doubt… And Bramah’s “The Game Played in the Dark” features his blind detective, Max Carrados, cleverly handling a tense situation and defeating some terrible rogues.

As for the Orczy stories, one of these I’d already read as it featured in the Renard Press ‘Lady Molly’ collection which I enjoyed hugely. The other, the “Underground Railway” story, was a really clever and twisty mystery in which a woman is murdered on a Tube train, but no-one can have done it. Here, her serial detective, the Old Man in the Corner, sees through all the subterfuge and comes up with the perfect solution – which I never would have worked out!

I have to be honest and say there was one story which really did take the wind out of my sails, and that was “The Moabite Cypher” by R. Austin Freeman, featuring his serial detective, Dr. Thorndyke. A breathtakingly racist characterisation made me pause and reflect how not only was this not acceptable then, but would be unlikely to be reprinted now… The mystery itself involves something coded in a kind of Semitic writing and so you can see where I’m going with this. Although I can usually make allowances for old books reflecting their times, I was really uncomfortable with the language here. Moving on…

Aside from this issue, I thoroughly enjoyed reading these older mysteries; although a lot of the names seem to have slipped into obscurity nowadays, I’d be keen to read more of their stories and this may end up with me trying to search out other “Rivals…” volumes. Vintage crime short stories do make for wonderful reading, and are often the perfect palate cleanser before moving on to longer works. So I’m very glad the Ackroyd nudged me towards this one! ☺

*****

I discovered after reading this one that June has been designated National Crime Reading Month by the Crime Writers’ Association/The Reading Agency, which of course ties in beautifully with this book! You can find out more about the event here.

“It’s Lister who decides…” #nottodisturb #murielspark

June 5, 2026

kaggsysbookishramblings Uncategorized , 36 Comments

Over the years; I’ve read a lot of Muriel Spark‘s novels; mostly pre-blog although some have appeared here on the Ramblings. However, I’m aware that there are still a good number of her titles I’ve not read and recently an Instagram reel on the subject of Scottish Gothic books sent me off in the direction of a novella of hers first published in 1971 – “Not To Disturb”. What the reel said about it made it sound irresistible, so once more a reasonably price copy arrived at the Ramblings just as I’d finished another book and jumped straight into my hands!

The book is set in a mansion in Geneva, in the midst of a raging storm. Inside, the staff are gathered, awaiting the arrival of the owners, Baron and Baroness Klopstock, as well as one of their secretaries, Victor Passerat. Led by the butler, Lister, they seem to be in a state of suspense, with their conversations implying that that a tragedy is about to take place; in fact, Lister constantly talks as if it already has… The Baron and Baroness eventually arrive, separately, and all three characters lock themselves in the library with instructions to Lister that they are not to be disturbed. As the storm continues around the house, the servants wait for the inevitable to happen – but how can they be so sure about the outcome of events??

With royalty, of course, it all is largely a matter of stage production. And lighting. Royalty are very careful about their setting and their lighting. As is the Pope.

This being a Muriel Spark book, we are obviously in strange territory from the start. Lister, for example, insists on referring to the three victims in the past tense, even whilst they’re still alive. The conversation is elliptical, allusive and suggests rather than stating outright; the characters often talk in near-riddles, leaving the reader to work out what has been happening. The implication is that Passerat has been in a sexual relationship with both the Baron and Baroness (and in the little we see of him directly, he certainly appears to be a flamboyant character).

There is an additional complication in the form of “him in the attic”, an obviously mad family member who will become important to the plot as the story develops. There is a local vicar; two of Passerat’s friends who are hanging around the house; and the couple manning the porter’s lodge. The house staff are an intriguing bunch; as well as Lister, who seems to be in control of events, there is Heloise the pregnant maid; Eleanor, who is Lister’s aunt, despite being younger than him; Pablo the Handyman, who may be the father of Heloise’s child; and Clovis the Chef. It becomes clear that money is the motivation for whatever action is taking place, and when you build in some unexplained characters who appear to be reporters of a kind, it’s clear that the servants plan to profit from the events of the night.

As with all of Spark’s novels, there’s so much going on under the surface! She is, of course, playing with detective novel tropes; from the stormy weather to the class differences to the big house, there are many elements which would turn up in any GA crime novel. However, Spark always twists things, and I’ve seen this book compared to Ivy Compton-Burnett as so much of it is told via dialogue, which is really interesting. There’s also another unusual slant with the madMAN in the attic, a play on the Jane Eyre/Wide Sargasso Sea madwoman. So all in all, there’s a lot to digest here, and it’s also very funny in places, if occasionally a little opaque plot-wise. I think there could be many different interpretations of what’s actually going on!

“Not To Disturb” is therefore a short, sharp and entertaining novel which pricks many of the pretensions of more ‘serious’ fiction; but much as I enjoyed it, I wouldn’t say I would put it up there with Spark’s best. It followed “The Driver’s Seat” which had appeared a year before and I think that novel was more inventive and effective. Nevertheless, what I might regard as minor Spark is still streets ahead of many other writers and so I’m glad I read this one; I’m also thankful I still have many of her books left unread!

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