Recently I've been really struggling with writing reviews. The words either don't come or, if they do, they don't make any sense to me so it's even less likely that they'd make sense to you. My pile of books to review is threatening to topple and flatten me at the moment, but I'm loathe to just push them aside and start writing reviews again when I'm able because they're SO GOOD. Over the last couple of months I have completely fallen back in love with reading. Not that I ever fell out of love with it, but rather it felt like we'd been married for fifty years and, although the love is all there, we were so used to each other it didn't feel exciting any more. I don't know if it's because I've made more time for reading or because I seem to have stumbled upon some truly wonderful books, but recently that all-consuming passion for books has returned. I'm loving it. Yet I can't seem to share it. So, for a little while at least, my reviews are going to look a little different. I hope you enjoy them even if they are short and sweet.
The Rector's Daughter by Flora MacDonald Mayor
1924
'On the whole she was happy. She did not question the destiny life brought her. People spoke pityingly of her, but she did not feel she required pity.'
'The tempests of life can die down as though they had never been.'
'Life is meant for experience; that's the thing that counts.'
In Three Words: compelling, sorrowful, unexpected
Read this review by Book Snob (basically everything I want to say put so eloquently)
I have Susan Hill's Howards End is on the Landing to thank for the recommendation. Shortly after reading Hill's literary memoir I stumbled upon this lovely second hand edition at the Southbank Book Market and knew I had to have it. I love serendipity.
Have you read this neglected classic?
