Publ: 1953 J. B. Lippincott, Philadelphia and New York Pensby Library ISBN: - Genre: Letters Pages: 280 Recommended by Nan Rating: ***** *****
What led you to pick up this book? Reading extracts of Gladys Taber’s writing on Nan’s blog.
Describe the book without giving anything away. Published in 1953 this wonderful book takes us through a year of gentle correspondence between Gladys Taber who lived in Southbury Township, Connecticut, New England and Barbara Webster in Chester County, Pennsylvania. Paragraphs jump from serious philosophical discussion about the nature of friendship to asking if the other has ever pressed leaves with a hot iron and wax. If you have never read this you should. It matters not whether you are into dogs and country matters or enjoy series of letters, the quality of the writing is excellent and takes one back to a peaceful time when head and hands were kept busy but the future (despite hydrogen bombs) was hopeful.
What did you think about the style? Books of correspondence often seem either false (because they were designed for publication) or incomprehensible (because they weren’t). This is neither. One letter flows into another and the two writers complement each other perfectly.
What did you like most about the book? Its gentleness.
Was there anything you didn't like about the book? No – except that I could have gone on reading for many future years.
Thoughts on the book jacket / cover. Cloth with a pleasant motif.
Would I recommend it? Absolutely.
Totally irrelevant side note: So many of the thoughts in the correspondence make one want to pick up one’s pen (literally – forget new fangled keyboards) and respond with one’s own thoughts on the subjects. Perhaps I’ll do that by means of a blog posting now and then.
Illustrations The book is illustrated throughout with the delightful pen and ink drawings of Ed Shenton (Barbara Webster's husband).
What a wonderful climate bed is! A refuge from all care, a place to lick one’s wounds, and to plan fresh for the future. – Barbara Webster
I suppose every parent looks back and sees mistakes made with the children, and wishes it could all be done over. Often I wish I could begin again. – Gladys Taber
Why did I ever engage in the battle to make Jill’s daughter eat tomatoes? Many a man has lived and died without tomatoes. I had read they were full of vitamins and things. I felt sure her teeth would fall out if she forewent her tomatoes. Now, in my wiser years, I think that it would have been better for her to lose every tooth in her head than to acquire such a resentment to me. Store teeth can be bought, but affection is hard to come by. – Gladys Taber
So I think the trouble often is that parents try too hard. Children who grow up as they feel like, have a better chance in many respects. Vitamins may come and go, but ease and relaxation about life go on forever, if one has it once. – Gladys Taber
I suppose this is ‘human nature’. Did you ever think how seldom this expression is used to describe an admirable trait? It must mean something. – Barbara Webster
Did you ever fall into a fit of gloom in springtime? No, I’m sure you haven’t..... True happiness comes, and goes as quickly, a rare fleeting thing. But content is something else again. And, for a whole month, I was content. – Barbara Webster
I read an article recently on How To Be A Good Hostess. ‘Never forget to lay a fresh rose on the breakfast tray,’ said the writer merrily. It made me wonder how many people she had entertained! – Gladys Taber
Every housekeeper needs a few pet visitors to come and admire, and make her feel that the sometimes boring domestic routine is not in vain. I think that this would be a worthwhile and sufficient career for anyone who had no other demanding talents: merely to be a guest through life, going from house to house, tasting, savouring, approving. In my youth there used to be many of these pleasant characters about, mostly bachelors. They came to dinner often, always on holidays like Christmas and Thanksgiving, admired everything, and sighed for domesticity (and probably thanked Heaven they were single), took you to the theatre, brought flowers and candy, and were generally indispensable. I know today only one like this, and he is in such demand that he must be invited months in advance. – Barbara Webster
I can never understand not wanting to share wonderful things – can you? Like secret recipes – it seems to me nothing is really good until you share it with someone. The same with books. I can’t wait to pass around any good book I find. Jill says I am just a frustrated lending library! - Gladys Taber
I suppose I am a sparrow, a stay-at-home bird. Travel is so alluring, but our own forty acres offers enough adventure for a lifetime. – Gladys Taber
Sometimes when I have a day with many small things going awry, I suddenly think as dusk lets fall her soft violet color, that it is very silly of me to mind the stresses and strains. It was a day , was it not? I had the free air to breathe, and the sky to look on. Whys should I complain? Then I think, were I ill, were I dying, were I imprisoned, or had I been involved in some horrid accident – at the point of catastrophe, would I not wish this day back, just as it is? A day measured up so, comes to be a very dear day, and I wish it not over at all! The same thing is true about passing the time away. when I hear people speak of doing things to pass the time, I shudder. For the one precious and irreplaceable gift is time, and surely we are in sorrowful state if we merely want to toss it out as fast as possible. A day is a fine thing, and we shall never see this day again. It is not a thing to take too easily. - Gladys Taber
A good book is lovely. , lovely in the soft pale blue dusk of a June day and lovely, lovely when the sleet flails at the window panes. For a book is its own climate. - Gladys Taber
Your not coming was like expecting a Christmas present and unwrapping the package to find it is the new bags for the vacuum cleaner. – Gladys Taber
I am never any good at partings. To me, they seem to come much more often than meetings, although that doesn’t seem likely to be true! – Gladys Taber
You can pretty well sum up a man or woman by how good a job they do at being friends. – Gladys Taber
I was a keen John Wainwright fan when younger and read all his books about Yorkshire police at least once. One of my big regrets was not managing to read them in sequence. Re-visiting this one I recalled the outcome too easily to make it ‘exciting’ but the style still made it well worth a second (or maybe even third) read. I have rated it as I would have done first time around – a full ten!
Set in Yorkshire – as are most of his books – this thriller revolves around the life of a paid killer, David Fleischer, who finds himself hired for a mission that has too many personal associations for him to feel comfortable with the task. A retired Charlie Ripley makes an (almost) cameo appearance.
JOHN WILLIAM WAINWRIGHT was a rear gunner in World War II, after which he spent twenty years as a policeman in Yorkshire. He wrote eighty crime novels between 1965 and 1992, sometimes under the pseudonym 'Jack Ripley'.
When I was young I read my way through dozens and dozens of books by John Creasey and for some reason I thought this was one his pseudonyms. I was therefore surprised to find that I was reasonably sure I had never read this book. As it turns out Carr is not one of his pseudonyms though the style is very similar. In this tale Detective Supt. John Cheviot manages to get into a taxi in the middle of London in the mid 20th century only to find himself transported back to a murder mystery in 1829. Provided you don’t look for realism it is an amusing enough tale.
JOHN DICKSON CARR was born in Uniontown, Pennsylvania, in 1906. It Walks by Night, his first published detective novel, featuring the Frenchman Henri Bencolin, was published in 1930. Apart from Dr Fell, whose first appearance was in Hag's Nook in 1933, Carr's other series detectives (published under the nom de plume of Carter Dickson) were the barrister Sir Henry Merrivale, who debuted in The Plague Court Murders (1934).
A novel founded in the life of Joseph of Arimathea, the rich man who took the body of Jesus from the Cross. In this book Joseph is made his great uncle and accompanies him on a trip to Avalon in his youth.
MARGUERITE STEEDMAN does not feature on Fantastic Fiction and I cannot find a biography of her.
One of the disadvantages of reading one’s own books is that there is no timeframe in which a review has to be written. With a library book it is necessary to do the review before the book is returned. Consequently, having read six of my own books this last few weeks I have failed in my duty to blog the reviews. So I have just done a brief note of each of them.
Thanks for stopping by! Would you like a cup of tea or coffee? And please, sit for a spell. If you enjoy my posts, please feel free to follow me or subscribe to my blog. This is a word verification free, family friendly blog, so everything I share here is for all ages. I am a happily married man in my late sixties who lives on the Wirral peninsula, near Liverpool, in the UK.
I'm a blogger - and nowadays that seems to be my main occupation. Rambles from My Chair is my main blog. I’m a retired local government executive - now studying how to survive a neurological disorder that gives me various problems but, hopefully, a whole new outlook on life and an increased sense of humour and perspective. There is a saying in Sweden "man måste vara frisk för att orka vara sjuk" ~ "you have to be well to cope with being ill"....
I enjoy most forms of communication and postcards are a special favourite. I used to blog as Scriptor Senex which is Latin for Old Writer but now Google only lets me post as John Edwards.
“He’s not so old. He’s just the age that he is, that’s all.” (Gerald Hammond)