Book Review: The Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices by Wilkie Collins and Charles Dickens

The Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices is a humorous narrative of the walking tour Collins and Dickens undertook in 1857 and was originally published in Household Words. Collins becomes Thomas Idle (truly idle) and Dickens becomes Francis Goodchild (laboriously idle). It's split into five parts - the first covers their mountainous walk and Idle's ankle injury, the second follows on from that and includes a ghost story penned by Collins, the third comprises Thomas Idle essentially explaining why he's idle, the fourth includes a very disturbing tale penned by Dickens that frightened me in broad daylight, while the final portion is set at Doncaster during Race-Week.

Separately, these two are brilliant; together they're even better. I spent so much time chuckling at this book, quite a bit of it in public too. The interplay between the two characters is wonderful, particularly during the fourth number, and the exaggerated personas are excellent throughout. The recounting of Idle's accident in the first part sets the bar high for the rest of the book and it certainly delivers.

Both the ghost stories are creepy enough, and definitely memorable. While the one penned by Collins has one real moment of creepiness though, the one by Dickens is more malignant and was both enjoyable to read and incredibly unsettling.

It's difficult to say too much about a book that's only 130 pages long. I will say, as a side point, that the Hesperus Press edition is beautiful and compact. I love their books for those reasons and I was delighted to find The Lazy Tour in such a neat little package. Highly recommended to any fans of Collins and Dickens and, most especially, to fans of both.

This book was read as part of the 'TBR' reading challenge, details here.

Birthdays Are Book Days

It's that time again. Another year older (which I'm trying not to think about) and something that goes hand-in-hand with birthdays for me - a cornucopia of new books. As far back as I can remember, if people were stuck for a present for me, they just got me a book and I never complained. I recall car journeys to the coast on birthdays with my nose more in a new book than bothered about sniffing the sea air. Don't worry, I eventually put it down and did kid stuff but the point is that birthdays and books are entwined in my head.

I went to York for a few days and went a little crazy in the book department. It's easy to be free with someone else's money but this is my York haul:

Three shops contributed to that. I've been meaning to read Brody's Kate Shackleton series from the beginning since I read A Woman Unknown (reviewed here) over a year ago but I'd got it into my head that I wanted to buy it from a 'proper' bookshop in Yorkshire and, being too dippy to order it in, I was waiting until I found it. Looking forward to that one immensely. The Stella Gibbons book will be the fourth of hers that I've read (and still haven't touched Cold Comfort Farm) and, although the last one I read was a little odd, I do have high hopes for this one. As for Jude the Obscure... Well, I might give that a wide berth for a while. I want to read it but Hardy tends to emotionally break me. 

Now the non-fiction. Out of the five, Dickens and the Artists is probably the most intriguing and the prettiest. Dickens and the Social Order might be put off until I've read two of the novels it discusses but it was too good a deal to ignore and, while I've heard mixed things about the Collins biography, I couldn't really pass that up either. The Virginia Woolf book, although small, is notable for the illustrations so that should be good and as for Yorkshire's Murderous Women... Can I just point out that until I started studying sensation fiction my interest in gruesome historical murders was almost nil? I think we can blame Edmund Yates and Wilkie Collins for that one. 

There's one other book to mention, a present from a good friend who aims to aid my procrastination by giving me books like this: 

She knows me so well.

Here, have Audrey Hepburn singing (with her real, charming voice) in a bookshop in Funny Face:

Doing Enough?

It's probably unsurprising that the question I ask myself on a daily basis is 'am I doing enough?' - it's a symptom of this work ethic I seem to have developed in the last few years. Just when I think I can't add 'more' to my to-do list, I find another gear. In the last month, I've started zooming until the figures waving at me to pull over and have a sit-down are inconsequential blurs. My father's resorted to replenishing my Smarties stash without complaint and knocking on the door every once in a while to make sure I eat proper meals. But, still, the question returns, usually at half past two in the morning when I can't possibly turn my mind off: am I doing enough?

My work diary suggests what can only be described as 'epic multi-tasking'. Since I restarted my it in January following a little hiatus I've apparently worked on two novel manuscripts (completely rewriting tens of thousands of one and indulging in some delicate rewriting on the other), written a full-length play draft, a short play draft and rewritten half a single television drama script draft. I've also got more things out at submission that I've had for literally years: two novels to competitions (different to the above), a script and two short stories. In the next two weeks I hope to add two more scripts to that and a novel (yes, another different one) to another competition. And I keep discovering things I want to enter. That's on the writing side of things. On the academic side, I deleted 8000 words of my fourth thesis chapter and drastically rewrote it (with success, I believe) and I'm currently in the process of drastically rewriting the first thesis chapter I wrote way back in 2011-12 (currently up to 9000 words on that). I've been doing detailed research for two essays I hope to write in the near future, doing some Collins biography work to get my facts completely straight and I've submitted two abstracts, one for a conference and one for an edited collected. Usually, when I hop from one project to another, I don't get much done of anything  but the last two months have defied that formula.

But, still, the question remains: am I doing enough? I think the fact is that I'm never going to believe I am. I mean, how long's a piece of string? What's enough? Do you quantify 'enough' by only doing what you 'have' to? In that case, all my writing's redundant. Or do you judge it by the amount of work you'd 'like' to do? Under that glare, I fail completely. I've made a conscious decision to do as much as mentally and physically possible in 2014, and I think I've stuck to that resolution in the first two months of the year. But, no, I don't feel like I'm doing 'enough' because my expectations of myself are ridiculously high. What's the point if they aren't? There's a wonderful line in Merrily We Roll Along's 'Old Friends' from writer Charley that sums up my feelings: 'Well, what's the point of demands you can meet?' Really, what is the point? It means you're not pushing yourself and I am determined to push myself.

Perhaps I'm asking the wrong question. Perhaps it's not 'am I doing enough?' Perhaps it's 'am I doing too little?' that will satisfy me that I'm not failing. That one I can almost always answer with a resounding 'NO'!

Thesis Snipping

This week is turning out to be tricky. No novel work for me, though I've successfully managed to juggle PhD commitments with some rewriting since Christmas. The work I'm doing at the moment requires my full attention. My characters are battling for head space alongside Wilkie Collins and Edmund Yates characters and, to be quite honest, they're getting a bit muddled up there. The next time I go back to my novel draft it wouldn't surprise me if my placid but sarcastic characters began indulging in some accidental bigamy.

The crux of the problem is my fourth thesis chapter, also known as the thesis chapter of doom/thesis chapter from hell/thesis chapter I'm going to set fire to. I mentioned how much trouble I was having with it in November (here, with Victor Meldrew references). I said I was having 'wild ideas' about hitting the delete button. You know what I did the other day? Deleted over 8,000 words, the entire section of analysis, and went back to the drawing board.

I found that trying to rewrite what was already in there was a nightmare. Plot description mixed up with argument mixed up with quotes mixed up with points I didn't really know I was making - it was all a mess. Hitting the 'delete' button was a moment of trauma but I've started to build it back up slowly with 1400 words written in that last few days. I'm not exactly a self-confident type of person but I'm 90% sure that the words I've put in are far superior to the ones I removed. Then again, at this point, I would say that! To be honest, whether it's true or not, I need to believe it for now. Otherwise I'll just be stranded in no-man's land; safe in the knowledge that the work I had before wasn't good enough and incapable of moving forward. At least I'm moving, that's what I keep telling myself.

I have a supervisor meeting next Thursday. So that's a week to get things into shape while I'm away for most of the weekend... Ouch. Better not think of it in those terms either!

Colour-Coding Overload

There's a moment when you think that maybe, just maybe, you've overdone the close reading of a book. My mission for the past week or so has been to reread Wilkie Collins's No Name in order to gather a semblance of an argument for my final thesis chapter. This is the result...

What you see there are actually five colours (there are two shades of pink). It occurred to me halfway through that I should probably just stick a multicoloured post-it on the front of the book and have done with it. As it is, my desk is lit up by its very own Wilkie Collins rainbow. Just when I thought my life couldn't get any odder... 

Anyone want a Minstrel? 

Downloading Classics onto Kindle

I went on a bit of a splurge the other night. Conscious that I'm spending three weeks in Birmingham, I went onto Amazon and downloading a heap of free classics for my Kindle, which is one of the best presents I've ever received. Unfortunately, those added to what I already have on there have equated to something of a mountain. So if anyone has any suggestions for which of the following long list I should read I'd be grateful! These are all books I haven't read before, illustrating some gigantic holes in my education. (List in no particular order!)

1. Felix Holt - George Eliot
2. The Lost Girl - D.H. Lawrence 
3. The Cloister and the Hearth - Charles Reade
4. The Return - Walter de la Mare
5. Witch Stories - Eliza Lynn Linton
6. The Ghost Pirates - William Hope Hodgson
7. A Lady of Quality - Frances Hodgson Burnett
8. Mathilda - Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
9. Camilla - Fanny Burney
10. The Innocence of Father Brown - G.K. Chesterton
11. The Wisdom of Father Brown - G.K. Chesterton
12. Ethan Frome - Edith Wharton
13. The Europeans - Henry James
14. Evelina - Fanny Burney
15. A Sicilian Romance - Ann Radcliffe
16. Dombey and Son - Charles Dickens
17. Washington Square - Henry James
18. Moon and Sixpence - W. Somerset Maugham 
19. Our Mutual Friend - Charles Dickens 
20. King Solomon's Mines - Henry Rider Haggard
21. Sons and Lovers - D.H. Lawrence
22. Nicholas Nickleby - Charles Dickens
23. Cranford - Elizabeth Gaskell
24. Persuasion - Jane Austen
25. Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
26. Verner's Pride - Ellen Wood
27. The Odd Women - George Gissing
28. New Grub Street - George Gissing
29. Ruth - Elizabeth Gaskell
30. The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet - Burton E. Stevenson
31. The Angel of Terror - Edgar Wallace
32. The Mystery of a Hansom Cab - Fergus Hume
33. The Bartlett Mystery - Louis Tracy
34. The Fairy Tales of Charles Perrault - Charles Perrault
35. The Leavenworth Case - Anna Katharine Green
36. The Virginians - William Thackeray
37. The Man - Bram Stoker
38. Lair of the White Worm - Bram Stoker
39. Two on a Tower - Thomas Hardy
40. Under the Greenwood Tree - Thomas Hardy
41. The Trumpet-Major - Thomas Hardy
42. The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid - Thomas Hardy
43. A Pair of Blue Eyes - Thomas Hardy
44. The Woodlanders - Thomas Hardy
45. The Return of the Native - Thomas Hardy
46. Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
47. The Professor - Charlotte Bronte
48. Agnes Grey - Anne Bronte
49. Villette - Charlotte Bronte
50. Antonina - Wilkie Collins
51. A Rogue's Life - Wilkie Collins
52. The New Magdalen - Wilkie Collins
53. The Two Destinies - Wilkie Collins
54. The Fallen Leaves - Wilkie Collins
55. The Black Robe - Wilkie Collins
56. Heart and Science - Wilkie Collins
57. "I Say No" - Wilkie Collins
58. The Evil Genius - Wilkie Collins
59. Guilty River - Wilkie Collins
60. The Legacy of Cain - Wilkie Collins
61. Blind Love - Wilkie Collins
62. Les Miserable - Victor Hugo
63. The Lovels of Arden - Mary Elizabeth Braddon
64. Birds of Prey - Mary Elizabeth Braddon
65. Henry Dunbar - Mary Elizabeth Braddon
66. John Marchmont's Legacy - Mary Elizabeth Braddon
67. Fenton's Quest - Mary Elizabeth Braddon
68. Charlotte's Inheritance - Mary Elizabeth Braddon
69. Run to Earth - Mary Elizabeth Braddon 

Book Review: The Secret Life of Wilkie Collins by William Clarke

This biography, written by someone married to a descendant of Collins, attempts to decode the author's tangled personal life and get as close to the truth as possible. It's a book of remarkable accuracy, piecing together what we definitely do know about Collins's life with what can be assumed about his two 'families'. In a very readable book, Clarke examines the evidence, makes assumptions where necessary and comes up with a plausible trajectory for Collins's life.

Clarke chooses to start the book with Collins's will and then back-pedal to his parents to 'start' the story as it were. This allows for a certain amount of intrigue over the familial situation and the problems with the bequests to creep in before he turns to examine Collins's father. The chapters covering William Collins and Wilkie's childhood are more interesting than I expected them to be and I very much enjoyed the chapter covering the family's visit to Italy. I suppose one of my criticisms, though, is that it took a while to get to the 'good bits' - the relationships with Caroline Graves and Martha Rudd that shaped his life. However, Collins's early life shaped his reactions to events later on. The book is crafted to give a whole view of the man and it fulfils its objectives.

For Dickens fans, there's a chapter devoted to his relationship with Collins, covering the reason for them drifting apart as well. Then the investigative work begins as Collins's relationships with Caroline Graves and Martha Rudd are pieced together from what evidence there is. It hardly builds up a complete picture of his life - he was far too secretive for that - but it's a compelling picture nonetheless.

Perhaps my favourite chapters are the ones which cover his trip to America in 1873 and, just before that, the details of his stage successes, which I knew very little about. While this book only briefly mentions the plots of the novels, it takes an interest in the stage shows which, of course, involved Collins the man and not just Collins the author.

This book is a must for anybody wanting to unravel the mysteries of Collins's personal life. I also appreciated the look at the lives of both 'families' after he had died, including the inheritance problems. Would recommend for anyone interested in one of the most secretive and yet open authors of the nineteenth century.

Maximising Productivity

Last week was a pretty productive week for me. I'm going to try an alternating system as far as word production is concerned. So a week on the novel then, perhaps, two weeks on the PhD. My old system of PhD during the day and writing in the evening stopped working late last year. I'm not quite sure why but it may have something to do with the fact that every time I had to 'switch gears' it took me longer and longer to get from one project to the other. I was getting too enthusiastically involved with my PhD (not a bad thing) and, more often than not, didn't want to stop working for the evening. I wanted to finish a point or finish some secondary reading or find something. Then, all of a sudden, time's disappeared and my fiction writing suffered as a result. Equally, on the days during November when I was forcing myself through NaNoWriMo my fictional focus was very strong and I didn't want to do anything else. So, it seems a new way must be sought.

Unfortunately, it's not as easy as saying 'pick a priority'. For several reasons, I can't do that, not least because I'm lost when I'm not involved in writing a story. If I'm working towards the aim of publication then I need to put 49% of my effort into my fiction, the other 51% belongs firmly to the PhD (for illustrative purposes here we're forgetting the other things I need to do this year for the time being). I mean, this is simpler than it looks. Yes, I have babysitting duties (which doesn't feel much like duty most of the time) but I have a woeful lack of a social life. In fact, my grandmother asked this weekend if '[I] only have one friend' before hastily adding 'round here' when she realised it sounded a little harsh. Well, yes, I do and that's probably all the better for my productivity.

I don't know if a week is the best time to spend on one thing before switching. What I do know is that last week I devoted myself to editing the middle of a novel and managed 19,907 words in seven days. This was the most finicky part of editing too - when earlier changes have been made to character and plot and you spend hours trying to make sure everything follows and that the whole makes sense. I long for the days when I was simply shredding my plot to pieces and didn't have to worry about the detail. Nevertheless, that concentrated effort brought that draft up 64,432 words so another concentrated effort in a week or so will finish that draft off. Then I get the out-loud read through which annoys the dog no end but we'll deal with that hurdle when we come to it.

We'll see if this new system holds me. I suppose it depends how enthusiastic I get at any given time about any given thing. However, my novel is all packed away again and I'm all ready for a week on the PhD now. Wilkie Collins and Edmund Yates better watch out...

...Onwards to 2013

Since I failed many of my goals in 2012 (see here) you might think I'd go easy on myself in 2013. No chance. What follows is an overview of the things I want to get done. Later in the year I'll probably compile another 'traffic light' post since the last one helped me focus my thoughts on what needed doing - even though I didn't do much of it at all in the end! So, here goes nothing...

My PhD is obviously the most important thing in my life. With a little bit of luck I'll be close to completion by the end of the year - or at least I'll have all the blocks in place and just need to rearrange them a bit. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but goals were meant to be challenging.

Related to the above, I want to get some conference experience under my belt. Talking in public is not exactly something I'm good at but it has to be battled at some point and now is that time. I've submitted abstracts for a couple of conferences already but if they don't come off then there's plenty more to have a crack at.

This post details all my major writing projects. In terms of priority for working on this year, I'd put them in this order: 'Lily', 'Danni', 'Liz', 'Lauren', 'Max' and 'Vic' (which is the actual order they were written in the first place!). Realistically, I think I'll only work on the first four of those - although all six would be nice. In addition, I'll try and resist adding new first drafts to my pot (excluding NaNoWriMo).

I'll participate in NaNoWriMo again - provided I have a decent idea come November.

I'm working on a transcription (and introduction) of Edmund Yates's Black Sheep for Valancourt Books (details can be found here). By the end of the year I'd like to have made a huge dent in this - if not have it completely finished and submitted.

Although I'm not quite sure where my work with 2020UK will take me this year but I'll continue working with the group.

I'm not taking part in any reading challenges this year but that doesn't mean I won't be reading! My marvellous Christmas present of a Kindle (thanks to my sister and family) means I've started downloading loads of things I didn't have access to before. Some of them are work related (complete works of Wilkie Collins and some lost texts of Mary Elizabeth Braddon have already found their way onto the list) but others will just be plain fun. In addition, I'll be watching loads of classic films this year as my reward for doing some of the above stuff that looks terrifying in a list like this.

You'll notice all of these are pretty much professional goals. Don't I have any personal ones? Well, no. Let's allow those to melt into the distance and focus on the stuff that's really important.

Farewell 2012...

At the beginning of 2012 I posted about what I hoped to achieve in the year. In addition to that, in September I compiled a 'traffic light' post about what I needed/wanted/would be grateful to get done in the last three months of the year. Time for seeing how I did.

1. I've signed up for two specific reading challenges this year (see the links on the sidebar). I aim to complete them. In addition, I want to read some of those books I've been meaning to for a while - Wolf Hall, The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister and Nella Last's War to name but three.

I failed at both challenges! The classics summary can be read here while the short story summary is here. However, at least I read loads of books this year, including a decent balance of non-fiction.

2. I daren't make any predictions about my PhD for the coming year. I just hope that I'm still studying at the end of 2012. Whatever happens, I've already learned a lot from my research. That'll never go to waste.

Well, I upgraded in the early part of the year and have been working hard at it ever since. I'm definitely still studying, though I'm a little further behind than I hoped (see below).

3. I want to complete some revisions of all four manuscripts I've got floating about. Two are in the later stages of development and two of them are first drafts. I will also aim to have at least one short story published this year and try and complete a few of the unfinished projects I've got hanging around.

I didn't quite complete those manuscript revisions. Really, I've focused all my revision efforts on one novel (the one that got me an agent) and I'm even running behind at that. But - and this is a healthy 'but' - I've got big plans for some of those manuscripts (for details of my major writing projects see here). I may not have put them into practice yet but at least the ideas are there. I haven't had any short stories publishing because, again, my enthusiasm for submitting waned early in the year when other pressing matters took over. It's still a goal but I don't think it's an immediate concern. As for the unfinished manuscripts - I didn't finish those but I did start (and finish) two more first drafts. 

4. I will continue working with 2020UK and hopefully attract more people to the ranks.

This one I've done! I've enjoyed my year working with like-minded political folk and I look forward to whatever 2013 brings in this respect. 

5. I'll continue being there for the people who need me (for babysitting or a chat) but I'm making no predictions about where I'll end 2012.

Fairly sure I've been a good aunt this year. I've been lacklustre in the granddaughter department but that's not entirely my fault - she's slowly mentally disintegrating and my best efforts can't reverse that. All I can do is answer the phone when she calls in the early hour of the morning and listen to her crying when she needs me to. She's not a damn burden to me and I resent the people who make her feel that way. 

My PhD has to take up one of the priority slots. I'm currently working on my second chapter (on disability representation in the works of Wilkie Collins and Edmund Yates, if anyone's interested) and I want to have that finished by the end of the year. Polished up to the hilt too. Got 3000 words which just need tinkering with then only another...10,000 of analysis or so. Easy. 

Failed. It isn't polished up to the hilt, nor is it actually finished. I'm close to completing a draft of it but that's not what I was hoping to achieve. Still, my supervisor seemed pleased by the fact I've pulled this chapter together more quickly than the last one and the next will be even easier because I've got pretty much all of my secondary reading out of the way but I'm not satisfied.

The novel that helped me get an agent is in the middle of a complete rewrite. When I say 'in the middle' I mean that I've only rewritten around 15,000 words so far. It was a 70,000 word novel and it's now shaping up to be around 85,000 I think. That makes me not so much 'in the middle' as 'somewhere near the beginning'. Nevertheless, I want this redraft to be finished by the end of the year.

Failed. Only up to 44,000 on the rewrite which might look good but it's not what I was aiming for. This needs blitzing - and soon. 

National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) is soon going to be upon us again. I've achieved the 50,000 target two out of three attempts and I am determined to give it a go this year. I already have my idea and everything. I enjoy taking part in NaNoWriMo because it gives me a first draft in the bag in a month which I can then work on later. I haven't yet had time to look at the one I finished last year but it's there waiting patiently in line!

Passed. Finished NaNoWriMo just over the 50,000 mark. My wrap-up post can be found here.

I'm around 36,000 words into another first draft (the one which I keep abandoning and picking up again). I'd tell you about it in detail but then I'd have to go and chop off my fingers from the sheer embarrassment of it. However, I would like to finish the first draft of this novel by the end of the year, and I don't see it stretching beyond 60,000 words. So that's doable.

Passed. Although it also barely scraped over the 50,000 mark, it's another first draft in the bag bringing my total to six manuscripts in progress.

I've been thinking over the second draft of another novel I've got on the go. Although I was surprisingly pleased with the way the first draft worked out, I know I've got to make some fundamental changes to the background of the piece and that'll impact the front story. So far I've got a few thousand words of the rewrite which I had to abandon after other areas of my life took precedence but I'd love to have a second draft finished by the end of the year. 

Failed. Haven't even looked at this one since September and there are others now ahead of it in the queue. 

Blogging is an important part of my weekly routine and I'm not given it up. After consultation, I've decided to aim for at least 40 posts in the next few months. At least. They will probably mostly consist of book and classic film reviews because I'm doing, well, a lot of reading of books and watching of classic films. In a way, blogging counts as the fun part of this list though, of course, it's all fun.

Passed. Forget over 40 posts on the blog - I got over 50! That's procrastination if ever I saw it. 

So, yes, my report card screams 'could do better'. On the other hand, I keep piling my plate full of projects so it's no wonder that I'm flagging. Nevertheless, 'could do better' means 'should do better' in my book. And I will in 2013. 

2012 Short Story Challenge: Wrap-Up

Well, this makes two out of two reading challenges I failed in 2012! At least on the classics side of things I was close (five books out of the minimum of six) but on this I failed abysmally, reading only two short story collections over the year. This was my original list:


1. Night Shivers - Charlotte Riddell
2. Sensation Stories - Wilkie Collins
3. Wish I Was Here - Jackie Kay
4. The New York Stories - Edith Wharton
5. The Collected Stories - Katherine Mansfield
6. Daughters of Decadence - Various
7. Touchy Subjects - Emma Donoghue
8. ???
9. ???


Out of those I managed to read only two. I started off bright enough in January with Emma Donoghue's Touchy Subjects, a collection I thoroughly enjoyed. Then in May I read Sensation Stories by Wilkie Collins. That's it. Shameful, I know, but there you go.

I'll get to all of these collections eventually but for now I'll just have to go off into the corner with a dunce hat!

Book Review: Sensation Stories by Wilkie Collins

This collection contains ten stories that were originally printed in various periodical publications including Household Words and Bentley's Miscellany. Most of them have been out of print for a century and many of them are very enjoyable. The introduction offers something of a crash course in Wilkie Collins for the uninitiated but I jumped straight into the stories.

A couple are notable for their reliance on supernatural elements. 'The Last Stage Coachman' is an eerie tale of a way of life lost while 'The Clergyman's Confession' builds to a supernatural climax that doesn't feel out of place in the collection. The most well-known story of the book is probably, I would guess, 'A Terribly Strange Bed'. I've certainly come across references to it within my studies and it really is a startling tale about a gambler who stays in a rather unique bed. 'The Diary of Anne Rodway' is an excellent depiction of a woman mourning the loss of her best friend. She refuses to accept a verdict of accidental death and tracks down the man responsible. Dickens apparently loved this story which is recommendation enough.

'Nine O'Clock' is an odd French Revolution piece which combines clairvoyance with more traditional themes. 'The Fourth Poor Traveller' is a nice little detective story which didn't make too much of an impression on me whereas 'The Dream Woman' stuck in my mind for some time after reading it. It involves a dream prophecy of a woman with a knife and shouldn't be read last thing at night! 'A Marriage Tragedy' is probably one of the most developed and intricate pieces, following a widow through the eyes of her servant as she remarries. 'Who Is The Thief?' is another detective story but a humorous one while 'Love's Random Shot' is an odd story about a married man who falls in love with a woman of dubious character. This last story in the collection is the least accomplished of the lot and seems a bizarre choice to conclude the collection on.

However, anyone interested in Wilkie Collins and his fiction could do worse than giving this a go. Some of the stories are gems and all have his distinct trademark style, occasionally tongue-in-cheek but always detailed.

Upgrade Panic

On Monday (27th) I have my upgrade viva. Now, despite my supervisor telling me I 'should be fine', this is me and I am positively, absolutely, undeniably and reliably dead. Sorry, I slipped into Munchkinland for a moment there. I'm probably not going to be crushed by a flying house on Monday but I'm not counting my chickens until I'm home safe. A run of bad luck could easily spiral out of control.

In theory, my upgrade really should be fine. I've made more progress in the last four months than I thought was possible. I fully expected to be gently told I shouldn't continue and see the doors of postgraduate education close on me forever. That hasn't happened. My upgrade chapter is unrecognisable and - I think - pretty good. I'm evaluating a lost author alongside one of the masters of sensation fiction - what can possibly go wrong? Well, I'll have to be at the upgrade viva for a start.

I turn into a mute under pressure. It's just the way I am. Call it lack of confidence, lack of training or whatever you like, but if I lose my step in any conversation (be it friendly or official) then I turn into a statue, only known to be human by the periodic shaking and shivering. And once I slip out of my stride I find it very difficult to get back into it. One memory sticks out, one time I managed to pull myself back from the brink. It was during my undergraduate degree, for a drama unit, where my group were doing a scene from Othello (I was Emilia) and then a presentation on it. I got through the scene fine but during my presentation segment I lost it. I said 'ummm.....' and there was silence for well over a minute. No one stepped in to help. Don't ask me how I pulled myself back, I only know I managed it somehow. But I'm arguably worse than I was a few years ago so Monday will be more difficult than that was. Besides, I'll be on my own. Me against the world (unless I can pick up a few friends along the way but will they let a Scarecrow in?).

I'm keeping myself awake by posing potential questions in the middle of the night. This is after my supervisor told me to relax and not to pick holes in my argument before the viva. If I'm like this on Thursday then by Sunday I'll be a wide-eyed monster rocking back and forth in bed whispering the names of Edmund Yates's novels on a loop.

One thing is clear: I have to keep talking on Monday. I'll try not to get hit by a house. In fact, I'll go into the viva with the spirit of Dorothy Gale on my shoulder and I may even drop a house on the upgrade panel. Hang on...would that affect my chances?

Priorities

Yesterday I was given a date for my upgrade viva - 27th February. So that's the date this PhD charade comes crashing down around my ears, the day I learn that I'm perhaps not cut out for this academic career I had planned. Nevertheless, I have to give it a shot. The two things I need to accomplish in the next month, then, are to complete my upgrade chapter (currently in the fourth draft of the...third incarnation - possibly) and complete an abstract for the rest of the thesis. I also need to firm up my bibliography but, honestly, that's the least of my problems.

Getting this chapter up to required standard is proving difficult. I've been writing too much fiction lately so I'm having to be ultra-careful with my phrasing and the urge to slip into 'dialogue mode' is strong. I have to say, the pompousness associated with academic standards is really starting to get on my nerves. Alas, it's the way it is. My more pertinent problem stems from the abstract. Since changing my direction late last year, I've been struggling to play catch-up. Essentially, I'm reconfiguring the year and a half of work I've done to match my new focus. Unfortunately, much of the work I've done is no longer relevant. I've read books by authors I'm no longer covering; I've analysed others in a way that now seems to be useless. I'm going to have to read perhaps every novel Edmund Yates wrote to back up my abstract - and that's before I start finding Wilkie Collins novels to compare them with. See how unmanageable it's starting to look?

Then comes the upgrade viva itself. For a girl who has panic attacks walking into town to meet someone she knows well and has stress-related health issues, this is going to be painful. Literally, painful. While I've made progress in public-speaking and raised my confidence slightly, I still tend to suffer meltdowns at critical moments. I just stop talking. It'll be interesting to see how they deal with an oral examination where the candidate won't speak.

All this said, it's obvious something has to give. It has to be the writing, doesn't it? At least for the next month. I have to rewrite one more chapter for a submission somewhere (I'm not jinxing myself with explanation) but, apart from that, I think I have to focus constantly on PhD work. I already know that it'll drive me up the wall but I have to try. Don't I? Do I?

I need a little Judy to cheer me up. The girl she's singing about is the girl I long to be.

Reading Challenge: Short Story Challenge

At the beginning of the year I condemned myself for not reading as many short stories collections as I should have. Unfortunately, I haven't really rectified that problem this year so when I came across a reading challenge from the Library of Clean Reads blog specifically to encourage reading short story collections I knew I had to participate. More details about the challenge can be found here.

I'm going for the 'Tales Galore' category which is seven to nine books, mainly because I already have seven collections sitting on my bookshelves. Here is the list so far:

1. Night Shivers - Charlotte Riddell
2. Sensation Stories - Wilkie Collins
3. Wish I Was Here - Jackie Kay
4. The New York Stories - Edith Wharton
5. The Collected Stories - Katherine Mansfield
6. Daughters of Decadence - Various
7. Touchy Subjects - Emma Donoghue
8. ???
9. ???

I'll add the final two collections later and the list is subject to change. I'm looking forward to delving into these collections, several of which have been festering on the shelf for quite some time. Although Riddell and Collins have links to my PhD work, I promise that this is all fun reading.

Madame de la Rougierre

I'm only a quarter of the way into Uncle Silas, the 1864 suspenseful and sensational work by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu. I originally bought this as side-reading for my thesis but I've had so much primary and secondary reading to crack on with that I haven't had the chance to read it before now. I shunted it over to my TBR pile and picked it up yesterday.

So far I'm astounding by the creepiness. I blogged last year about Wilkie Collins's ability to perturb modern readers and I reviewed his particular success in The Haunted Hotel around the same time. However, Le Fanu's atmospheric and claustrophobic novel is so far surpassing that success. I'm petrified and we haven't even been introduced to the title character yet!

Madame de la Rougierre is the protagonist's governess. The reason she was initially engaged and her past are both mysterious at this point but what isn't mysterious is the impact she is supposed to have on the reader: we're not simply to think of her as unpleasant - she is evil and manipulative. Le Fanu adds more anxiety to the protagonist with almost every scene involving her and the governess. The suspense and mystery doesn't let up for a moment. It's disturbing enough reading this in the electric glow of a modern bedroom; I can't comprehend how unsettling it would've been being read by candlelight when it was first serialised in the Dublin University Magazine. It's interesting from a writer's perspective to watch how Le Fanu builds up the tension. From the first moment we meet Madame de la Rougierre we know the protagonist should be careful:

On a sudden, on the grass before me, stood an odd figure - a very tall woman in grey draperies, nearly white under the moon, courtesying extraordinarily low, and rather fantastically. I stared in something like a horror upon the large and rather hollow features which I did not know, smiling very unpleasantly on me; and the moment it was plain that I saw her, the grey woman began gobbling and cackling shrilly - I could not distinctly hear what through the window - and gesticulating oddly with her hands and arms. (Chapter Four)

That's a taster of the language used to describe Madame de la Rougierre throughout the portion of the novel I've read so far. It's creepy stuff and it only builds as time goes on. The combination of facial descriptions, adjectives used about her and her French accent all work to create a sensation of foreboding. This is Katina Paxinou portraying the character in the 1947 film adaptation which I'm now quite desperate to see:

Doesn't she look alarming?

I think I'd kill to be able to invoke the kind of feeling that Le Fanu does in Uncle Silas. And I'm looking forward to seeing how the character's evil personality impacts the rest of the novel. What I am not anticipating, however, is peaceful slumber, neither while I'm reading the book nor when I'm finished with it.

Venturing Into Victorian Tone

There's a huge difference between reading Victorian fiction religiously (or methodically, as my PhD has dictacted I do) and attempting to write fiction set in the period. For numerous reasons, I have avoided it. Historical fiction scares me. I'm something of a perfectionist. I would want to get as little as possible inaccurate and my usual sore point about "getting it wrong" would probably be turned into a gaping wound. That explains why I haven't attempted it in the past. So what explains my sudden enthusiasm for a project I started months ago, worked at for a day, then discarded to rest with the dozens of "bad" ideas your average writer has?

I've read many enjoyable pieces of authentic Victorian fiction in recent years. I'm referring to Wilkie Collins, Elizabeth Gaskell, Emily Bronte and Edmund Yates. I've also come across less well-written but equally enjoyable novels by other authors such as Mary Elizabeth Braddon, Ellen Wood and Charlotte Riddell. However, I'm now venturing into the depths of Victorian sensation literature. I'm learning precisely why posterity has not treated James Payn or Charles Gibbon with much kindness. I know what it's like to read a "bad" novel so, it stands to reason, I should know what areas need to be avoided.

Well, perhaps. What was "good" about the novel in the Victorian period cannot wholly be replicated in contemporary fiction. I think our readers are impatient: they want the illusion of Victorianism without the boring bits. I think the extended boat trip in Payn's A Woman's Vengeance would have to be cut out of any novel written today. It is clever in places, yes, but it's dreary and fails to further the plot as much as it could. In a rapidly-moving world we want our fiction to move as well: whatever era it's set in.

When I think of historical fiction set in the Victorian era, the first name that springs to mind is Sarah Waters. Perhaps because she was the first I read - and is still my favourite after all this time. What comes across in her work is a sense of knowledge: she isn't blagging, she's done the research and it shows. For potential writers this seems to be the biggest problem. You don't have to get everything right but you need to be right a lot more than you're wrong. Some readers might not care about historical inaccuracy but some will. Here's the more important point: if I was the author of such a work then I'd care.

Developing a voice that's Victorian enough to pass the test but still appealing to a modern reader is possibly the scariest part. I reread the 1500 words I'd written during my enthusiastic spurt and realised that, actually, they weren't that bad. I could definitely picture them in one of the musty books I'm currently perusing for my PhD. Individual words will need to be checked for authenticity later on, but my extensive Victorian reading has already given me a headstart in that department.

There is so much research to be done but, if I am to continue with these scribblings, I know it's important not to get too bogged down with it all before I start. If I did that I'd hate the thing before I even started writing. As long as my over-arching plot is plausibly Victorian (which I hope it is) then I know that everything else can be fixed in the redrafting stage. That gives me hope.

A Little About Edmund Yates

I've been mentioning him in passing for months now. Yates is one of the authors I'm looking at for my thesis, although you can be forgiven for not knowing his fiction. Posterity - if it has remembered him at all - has placed him (justifiably) in the category of journalist. He is better known as a friend of Dickens and enemy of Thackeray than as a writer. Yet he wrote around nineteen novels between 1864 and 1875, serialising them in prominent journals of the day, such as Temple Bar, All the Year Round and Tinsley's Magazine. His first novel, Broken to Harness (1864), was described by Mary Elizabeth Braddon as a domestic novel but from Black Sheep (1867) onwards he was firmly a sensation writer.

His literary connections with people like Dickens were formed partly because of his parents. He was the son of Frederick and Elizabeth Yates, successful and very popular actors. They were on tour in Scotland when he was born. However, his parents were eager that he should not follow them into the theatre life and tried to prevent him getting too involved in that life. Consequently, he started work at the Post Office before his sixteenth birthday. This work would bring him into contact with Trollope, who became a bitter enemy later in life. Yates was also admitted to the Garrick Club aged only seventeen as a mark of respect for his parents. This ended badly when he offended (probably deliberately) Thackeray in a journal and was excluded from the prestigious club. It was likely that the publication of this unflattering article was deliberately timed to coincide with Dickens's announcement of his divorce - as a great friend of Dickens, Yates was probably trying to dilute the public gossip on that day. Thackeray, like Trollope, became a lifelong enemy, all the more upsetting for Yates because he had particularly admired Thackeray in his youth. Yates may have cultivated friendships with many literary powerhouses of the period but he was also prone to arguments with them. This led to a rumour after his death, perpetuated by Trollope and William Tinsley, that Yates was not responsible for writing some of his best novels. Yates's bibliographer, P.D. Edwards, has investigated this to the best of his ability, concluding that, while nothing can be confirmed, it is unlikely that the allegations are true.

The list of journals Yates contributed to - and, in some cases, edited - is almost never-ending. To name a few: Court Journal, Leader, Daily News, Illustrated Times, Morning Star, Comic Times (editor), Temple Bar (editor) and Tinsley's Magazine. He was a prolific journalist but it's also interesting to note that he continued working at the Post Office for twenty-five years. Where he found the time to write his articles and novels is difficult to comprehend. His first completed novel, Broken to Harness, was written out of desperation to fill a hole within Temple Bar after another contributor let him down. It would be followed by popular novels such as Black Sheep, Land at Last (1866) and Wrecked in Port (1869). As was usual with the period, anything remotely sensational was panned by the critics and gobbled up by the public.

To date I've read six of Yates's novel: Broken to Harness, Black Sheep, The Rock Ahead (1868), A Righted Wrong (1870), The Impending Sword (1874) and The Silent Witness (1875). His plots are sometimes flimsy and rely on coincidence and suspension of disbelief. But, then again, so did Wilkie Collins's sensation novels and they have been defined as classics. Yates utilises his journalistic tendency of observation in character sketches and humorous asides and, generally, I find him to be an enjoyable read. What has struck me most in his works is the treatment of so-called 'villains' in a way that inverts the expected conventions. Although allowing the reader to 'live dangerously' by enjoying the exploits of villains was a staple of sensation fiction, Yates took it further by making these villains sympathetic. One character who has stayed with me is that of Harriet Routh from Black Sheep. Her devotion to her husband is the heart of the plot and Yates effectively portrays her as a 'good' woman because of this devotion.

I'd recommend Yates's novels to anyone interested in sensation fiction. Unlike some writers I've come across, I was rarely bored reading his novels. Some are rushed, of course, and some were written in response to publisher demands. But, on the whole, he was very enjoyable to read and his journalistic endeavours are as interesting as his novels. There are plenty of little anecdotes out there about him for anyone willing to look. I'll leave you with a quote from a review of A Righted Wrong, written in the Saturday Review in 1870. Criticisms like this usually mean the novel lacks taste and literary merit but is a decent read nonetheless:

"We cannot honestly congratulate Mr. Yates on the appropriateness of his title, for novels like this are wrongs which there is no righting. The reader slips down in blank boredom between a couple of stools. There is nothing to interest, and there is just as little to amuse... It is simply colourless, and totally devoid of all marked characteristics. It reminds us of nothing so much as an excursion train of badly-coupled carriages, jolting among, without any apparent object, by badly-made loop-lines. The train has a destination certainly, known, we may presume, to the persons who despatch it; and you turn up somehow at the journey's end. But in the meantime the slowness of the pace, the frequent stoppages, and the general uncertainty make the travel martyrdom. Readers of course get tired of it, and get out as they please; but the conscientious critic must yawn and resign himself."

Well... I liked it!

Pet Names

To avoid any confusion, I'm talking about 'names for pets' in this post. Not 'pet names' such as 'snuggles', 'cuddles', 'arsenic', and 'bulldozer'. That's a whole different category and one that could make everyone feel rather nauseous. No, I've been thinking a lot lately about animal names and their relationship to fiction: how do you decide what to call your pets and, more importantly, how do characters?

So far in my novel drafts I've only included one pet. There's an excellent piece of advice in some book somewhere that warns writers not to include animals without an exceptional reason. They can be self-indulgent little things that do nothing apart from hold up your plot and, when you forget about them, can leave the reader wondering where the fluffy kitten is and whether you did actually leave it in the burning building. The cat in my novel serves a few purposes, or at least I believe she does. I may be being self-indulgent. But Meg gives my protagonist something to get up for in the morning, she gives her something to talk to, and she serves to illuminate aspects of character by her preference for certain characters over others. As a cat person, I have to say that a cat's opinion can occasionally sway me in something like that. Yes... I know.

But why the name Meg? Well, my protagonist found the cat as a stray and gave her a human name to make her part of her hitherto single-person family. The old saying goes that if you give a cat a human name it becomes more human in your eyes. Now, I don't know what our pet names say about us as a family.

My cat, who unfortunately died last week, was called Stalin. Her sister, who passed away a few months ago was called Vlad. These cats were originally my sister's but part of her agreement to get them dictated my mother should have a say in the names. And she was kind of into her history. I have to say, whereas Vlad was a softie, Stal lived up to her name on some occasions. But not as much as the first cat I remember - Beast. Now, she was a stray and a very violent scrappy cat. I was scratched more than I care to remember when I was younger by that darling. She had a particularly amusing game of hanging around on the kitchen country ready to leap onto the back of our poor, unsuspecting doggy. She was originally called (embarrassing moment coming up) Icolbit, because a child who shall remain nameless couldn't speak and wanted her to come over 'a little bit'. However, 'Beast' was a much more appropriate name for her.

We've had two dogs in my lifetime. Paddy, probably a whippet crossed with something it really shouldn't have been crossed with, was a rescue dog. The first day we got him he ran from the house into the middle of a busy road because he was scared. I'm not sure the car helped his fear much. However, one metal plate later and he was perfectly happy. He still shook at anything, even a raised voice, but he was the most docile, friendly dog you could encounter. When he died my mother was heartbroken, and made the decision to go check out a puppy next door to one of my aunts the very same day. So we ended up with Rosie, a Cairn crossed with a Westie... we think. She's highly excitable and we're currently having some problems with her because she misses Stalin terribly. Once Beast died she became attached to Vlad and when Vlad died she latched onto Stal. She's now lost and confused and thinks we're going to leave her every time we leave the dining room. Rosie was my name choice, and not for very pleasant reasons either. There was a stuck-up girl I hated at school, part of a set who loved the look of themselves in a mirror. Naming my dog after one of them seemed to be the ultimate revenge at the time. Ahem. I promise I have grown up since then.

We've had an array of animals in my family. Maud, a grey long-eared rabbit; Norman, a brown and white rat; Noel and Liam, my brother's budgies. Plus an assortment of mice, rabbits and fish whose names escape me. But, for the most part, they were all part of the family - that is, they were named as if they were part of the family.

I know that including pets in fiction should be avoided if they're just going to be an issue of cuteness and irritation to the reader. But think of Fang in the Harry Potter series: whenever Hagrid was in his hut I wanted to know where the dog was because he was a vivid character in my mind. He helped define Hagrid. Where would Count Fosco be in The Woman in White without his assortment of mice and birds? The attention he pays to them highlights a peculiar edge to his character. And, in the world of television, where would Martin Crane be without his dog, Eddie? Animals can help define and shape character as much as they can annoy the audience by their constant interruptions. The key as a writer is to know when you're indulging yourself and when you're indulging the requirements of the plot or scene.

Book Review: Blue Guide Literary Companion London

This book was one I stumbled across due to Twitter. Clicking on links to blog posts can really help you discover great things and I'm certainly not sorry I found this little gem.

In a nutshell, compiler Robin Saikia takes you on an historical tour of the capital using extracts from numerous essays, novels, poems and even speeches. Each of the thirteen chapters is prefaced by an explanatory note highlighting important biographical information of the authors involved and including some extremely charming anecdotes. Being a Wilkie Collins fan, my personal favourite was a memory of Mrs Jane Ellis Panton about Collins and Charles Reade and their particularly see-through stage mystery.

The fantastic thing about this book is that nothing is redundant. All the extracts are intelligently selected and entertaining to read. I don't think there is one piece that I rushed over, or one chapter that I wasn't engrossed by. Two of my favourite chapters were ones I hadn't expected to love at the outset: 'Lions & Tigers, Cats & Dogs' and 'On the streets'. That said, I find it ridiculous to label any chapter my favourite since all of them captured my attention.

The extracts are well-varied. Alongside poetry from Wordsworth, Byron and Lawrence are extracts from factual books such as Henry Mayhew's famous analysis, London Labour and the London Poor. There's a speech from Prince Charles on the beauty of St. Paul's just a few pages after Joseph Conrad gives his view of the Thames. Count Dracula visits London Zoo in the same chapter that Dr Johnson's adoration of his cat is made plain. Addiction is covered by Sherlock Holmes, Dorian Gray and James Bond. The jumps in time make one thing abundantly clear: the themes are equally relevant in any era.

Practical things I appreciated about the book: it's relatively small, meaning you can pop it in a bag as you travel; most of the extracts are easily digestible and well-organised and the picture of Ludgate Hill a couple of pages in had me entranced. I've noticed criticisms elsewhere that the book doesn't really cover much 'modern' London. Well, as I said before, the themes are fairly universal anyway. Plus, the book is just the right length as it is and every extract serves a purpose: there isn't anything you could yank out to make room for more modern pieces. Besides which, I think it's perfect.

When I next go to London I'll be taking it with me. It'll be fantastic to walk into Bloomsbury and recall Edward Walford's piece on the Foundling Hospital.

Please visit Robin's blog here. I was hooked from the first post I read.

Also, take a look at his website for more information about (and praise for) his books.