Sunday, November 22, 2009

Women Unbound



Participants in this challenge are encouraged to read nonfiction and fiction books related to "women’s studies."

According to a Wikipedia entry, women's studies is an interdisciplinary academic field devoted to topics concerning women, feminism, gender, and politics. It often includes feminist theory, women's history, women's fiction, women's health, feminist art, feminist psychoanalysis, and the feminist and gender studies-influenced practice of most of the humanities and social sciences.

There are three levels for readers:
  • Philogynist: Read at least two books, including at least one nonfiction.
  • Bluestocking: Read at least five books, including at least two nonfiction.
  • Suffragette: Read at least eight books, including at least three nonfiction.

This is the first reading challenge I've decided to take part in- I've always been a little daunted about taking part in reading challenges in case I can't keep up (sometimes I read really fast, sometimes I'm terribly slow), but as this lasts for a year and I have plenty of books on my shelves that would be suitable, why not? These are the books I've chosen so far, but I'm sure more will turn up:

Fiction:
Lady Audley's Secret  by Mary Elizabeth Braddon (nearly finished this...)
Alias Grace by Margaret Atwood
The Crowded Street by Winifred Holtby
Fidelity by Susan Glaspell
Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell

Non-fiction:
An Interrupted Life: The Diaries and Letters of Etty Hillesum by Etty Hillesum
The Wonderful Adventures of Mrs Seacole in Many Lands by Mary Seacole
Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire by Amanda Foreman

Has anyone read any of these? I'd love to hear your thoughts...

And yes, I absolutely consider myself a feminist. In fact, there are few things that irritate me more than the phrase, "I'm not a feminist, but..."

Monday, November 2, 2009

Wives & Daughters

What can I say about American Wife by Curtis Sittenfeld, the novel that isn't-a-portrait-of-Laura-Bush-but-really-kind-of-is that hasn't been said already? I hate the Bush administration and everything it stands for and I've never been an admirer of Mrs Bush, but I nevertheless loved this book. I think it's because Sittenfeld writes so empathetically in the voice of a woman whose lifestyle and choice of husband few of us are ever likely to have much in common with. Alice Blackwell née Lindgren is presented as a sensitive, bookish child and teenager, whose life is transformed when she kills a classmate whom she has a crush on in a car accident, starts an affair with his dissolute brother and has an illegal abortion arranged by her (lesbian) grandmother. The often seedy side of life that we never hear about in relation to the (bloody) American Dream. She settles into a life as a spinster-ish elementary school librarian and unexpectedly falls in love with the charming ne'er-do-well son of the richest family in the state. I'm not sure if I can fully believe that Laura Bush is a secret liberal, but I could believe it of Alice Blackwell. I think it's important to separate the two. I like the cover, which is exactly how I imagine Alice to look, but I don't think she rides a bicycle once in the novel and the landscape looks far more Little House on the Prairie than small town Wisconsin...

At Mrs's Lippincote's, the first novel by Elizabeth Taylor is a finely written novel, but not one that really resonated with me. Although it is told from several different points of view, I found it difficult to really connect with any of them. My favourite character was precocious young Brontë-obsessed Oliver- I have to admit that I was a bit like that when I was younger. I was also ambivalent towards Angel, so I wonder what it is that's preventing me with connecting with a writer who, going by my usual tastes and preferences, I ought to love. I have a feeling Taylor is a writer who grows on you and I'm certainly not giving up.

I absolutely loved Singled Out: How Two Million Women Survived Without Men after the First World War by Virginia Nicholson, the best non-fiction work I've read in goodness knows how long. This is my great-grandmother's generation- she was one of four sisters born in the 1880s and 90s and she was the only one who ever married (one lived with her lover for years but never married him, another was a fairly well-known artist in lesbian Jewish avant-garde circles and I don't know anything about the fourth) and that was to her cousin. I loved just how readable, sympathetic and moving this book was, the analysis is sensitive and spot-on and the case studies are fascinating. They include the campaigner Florence White (not the same Florence White of Good Things In England fame) and her sister Annie who campaigned for spinters' rights and set up the National Spinsters Pensions Association, Gertrude Maclean who founded the Universal Aunts agency (a fantastic enterprise- women could finally get paid for something that had always been taken for granted), Caroline Haslett, the first director of the Electrical Association for Women (who was cremated by electricity- I love it), lady's maid Rose Harrison who when asked what she'd do if she could live again replied, "I would live my life over again," and countless others. Winifred Holtby's books have also risen rapidly to the top of my TBR pile. Nicholson isn't afraid to take on questions that are still controversial in the C21, such as whether it's possible to be happy and fulfilled without getting married and having children. If these extraordinary women are anything to go by, the answer should be a resounding yes. The First World War was undoubtedly a tragedy of immeasurable proportions that caused all sorts of damage and it's fair to mourn for a 'lost generation,' but it is easy to romanticise what might have been. If it hadn't happened, expectations of women's lives might have remained based on getting married and having babies. I wish my girlfriends and acquaintances who do nothing but whine about their boyfriends would read this book. It puts so many things into perspective.

On the silver screen, I enjoyed An Education, based on Lynn Barber's memoir of coming of age in 1960s suburbia, despite feeling squeamish at the love scenes. It's really scary how Jenny/Lynn's parents encouraged the relationship. For me, the real treat was seeing a host of fabulous semi-obscure British actresses sharing the screen. As many have already commented, Carey Mulligan is wonderful as Jenny with an extraordinary way of appearing very young and older than her years at the same time, Olivia Williams (an actress I absolutely adore) as her English teacher Miss Stubbs (the scene in her flat at the end was beautiful), Rosamund Pike as ditzy blonde amoral trophy girlfriend Helen and Kate Duchene (Miss Hardbroom on The Worst Witch- my favourite TV show when I was 10) as the Latin teacher (I'd recognise that voice anywhere). There's also a cameo from not-so obscure but always brilliant Emma Thompson as an unpleasant anti-semitic headmistress. The period details are immaculate and the ending somehow seemed perfect.


Sunday, November 1, 2009

Branching Out 3




With 20-odd new shows in three weeks, it's a bit like pot luck and I tried to attend as many as I could. I'm so lucky to only be about five minutes away from the Rosemary Branch, which I believe (wholly without bias) to be the best fringe theatre in London. It's a shame one can't be a professional audience sweller- I think I'd be quite good at it. It's a win-win situation as they get one more person in the audience and it keeps me off the streets.


I'm not really in the target audience for Rosie Wilby's Edinburgh Fringe hit The Science of Sex (I don't feel entirely comfortable with the tell-all style that Sex and the City and the likes has made the norm), but I quite enjoyed it nevertheless as Wilby has an engaging, amiable style. I saw a show with a very similar concept in Cambridge a few months ago and that was absolutely awful, so it was in some ways a breath of fresh air. There were some very funny lines ("I love the term LGBT- it sounds like a sandwich!") and I enjoyed the story of how she came out to her parents on April Fools Day, thinking they'd be horrified, but were very excited and handed out leaflets to the neighbours with the good news.

The Forecast, performed by Marvin and the Theatre Cats seemed to be the hot ticket- I didn't need to be there to swell the audience as it was absolutely swollen. The premise is that a luxury cruise liner sinks, and three rich twits are stranded on a raft together and inevitably get on each others' nerves. This might have potential with a lot more work (the dancing is quite amusing), but it currently feels very incomplete and about as aimless as the raft itself.


The undoubted highlight of the festival is Rosemary Branch co-Artistic Director Cleo Sylvestre's one-woman show The Marvellous Adventures of Mary Seacole, which is everything a one-person show should be- beautifully written and performed, informative, warm, funny and poignant. It really is like having an audience with the real Mary Seacole. Cleo takes us on a journey from Mary's upbringing in Jamaica, where she learned about herbal remedies from her Creole mother and practiced nursing her dolls and pets, her first visit to England at the age of sixteen, her many personal tragedies and struggles with poverty,  and finally the Crimea where she was turned down by Florence Nightingale, but started her own unique hospital. It's told with so much gentle humour (I loved the descriptions of all of Mary's colourful outfits- she clearly had quite an eye for detail) and there's not a trace of self-pity. I now really want to read her autobiography. Miss Nightingale might have been interested in formal qualifications, discipline and references, but Mary Seacole did more by doing what came naturally and clearly had a much more effective bedside manner. A pearl.

The trouble with Ah, Bet You Didn't Know, performed by Allistar Bain is that you need to have some kind of prior knowledge of Caribbean folklore for it to make sense as it isn't easy to follow. It's a bit like an in-joke and I think that sort of defeats the purpose of storytelling...

Soviet Zion by Katy Lipson and Giles Howe met with a mixed reception from my friends, but I'm leaning towards the more positive end of the spectrum. Jewish flavoured musicals seem to be tricky things (in spite of the fact that nearly all of the great musical theatre writers are of Jewish extraction) and last year's Holocaust musical Imagine This (my scathing review can be found here) was the most embarassing, misguided thing I've seen in my entire life ("Let's put on a show in the ghetto!"). This is certainly an ambitious project- an epic musical spanning thirty years in Soviet Zion, an area of Siberia given to the Jews by Stalin in the 1920s (I'm ashamed to say this is something I'm completely ignorant about, and I'm half-Jewish). I worry that it's too ambitious and that the time span won't allow sufficient character development and there isn't much in the way of traditional Jewish rhythms or humour (though I realise how tricky it is to get the balance right...).  It would also be nice if it ended on a note of hope. Of course, it's never going to be a commercial success. However, I enjoyed what I heard, I didn't find it emotionally manipulative, the lyrics (so often the biggest problem with new musicals) didn't make me want to bang my head against a wall and I would be interested in seeing a fully staged production. There were great performances from Arabella Rodrigo, Julia Buckley and Nancy Hill, as well as Katy and Giles themselves. I'm cautiously optimistic about this one, I think it has the potential to be very good.

I found Terje Tveit's staged reading of Peer Gynt to be a very curious piece of work that I don't think I'm clever enough to appreciate. It's not that I don't enjoy a crazy, sprawling epic from time to time, but I definitely prefer Ibsen's tightly plotted "domestic tragedies." I read a synopsis beforehand, but still got completely lost early on (my cleverer friends fared much better than I did). This production is set in a 1920s jazz underworld full of music and dance, including a rendition of Broadway Baby. As Follies (a favourite of mine) is the most meta-theatrical musical I know, my head started spinning at that point with all the meta-ness. The aesthetic, in which the only colours on stage were red and black, reminded me a lot of Chicago and the jazzy feel and the anti-hero working his way through the underworld and seducing numerous women with an overhanging threat of murder and self-destruction felt pretty close to The Threepenny Opera and Pal Joey. The stage directions were read out by the director, and that actually worked really well with the whole stylised feel of the production. Sort of like Ibsen done as Brecht. All the acting was very good, especially Peer Gynt himself, his mother, "Green Eyes" and the maid who gets murdered (no cast list, I'm afraid). I can't honestly say I enjoyed this, but that's probably most likely to due to the fact that Peer Gynt is almost definitely an acquired taste. The rhyming couplets started to grate on my nerves almost immediately. I found myself having flashbacks of Michael Frayn's Afterlife, agh.

The Clock Master by Sparkle and Dark's Travelling Players was real treat. I couldn't quite work out if it was aimed at children or adults, but that's not really the point. This is very much from the Angela Carter school of fairy tales as they aren't afraid to step into sinister, macabre territory, all of the stories have a sting in the tail and are full of cryptic messages. There was such a creative use of puppetry and props (the origami birds were particularly delightful) and the music was lovely. I really hope to see more from this multi-talented troop of actors, story-tellers, puppeteers and musicians. Enchanting.

My least favourite piece was Graham Farrow's Stay With Me Til Dawn, which I found really horrible. At least it was only a reading as the violence is hideously gratuitous, bordering on voyeuristic. The unpleasantness is laid on so thick (ever heard of the expression less is more??) and needless to say, I won't be going to see the staged version, if it happens. I expect the Hackney Gazette, which runs a pedophile story practically every week, would love it...

Dead-Kat Productions' (can't say I'm too keen on their name) 'multi-media' adaptations of Macbeth and A Midsummer Night's Dream condensed into under an hour each reminded me a bit of the BBC's animated Tales From Shakespeare (very useful for when revising for Finals...). Of the two, I preferred Macbeth, with was very effective in capturing eerie atmosphere, with the projected blood and witches. There was some confusion over who the child puppet was supposed to represent- apparently it was drippy Malcolm. My problem with Dream was that most of it wasn't terribly funny. I did like the way they did Pyramus and Thisbe as a puppet show though- I was a bit concerned as to how they'd pull that off with only two mechanicals. The Shakespearean performances weren't quite world class (though I thought the actress playing Lady Macbeth and Titania did have real presence), but were mostly pretty good. As it was the first time they'd performed Dream to an audience, I'm sure the comedy will start to flow more naturally. This would be a perfect show to take round to schools.

My favourite parts of Mew and Me by distinguished actress Petra Markham (sister-in-law of Corin Redgrave, who was in attendance) were the scenes between her character (an actress) and Charlotte Mew herself. I've never read any of Mew's work before (even though obscure Victorian/early C20 women poets are right up my street), but she seems like quite an enigmatic character full of contradictions, which naturally works really effectively in drama. However, I think this piece might work better as an Afternoon Play on Radio 4 than as a staged drama...

Saving the most eccentric to last, Fiona Watson's show An Evening With Bunty Carnavon was a most quirky take on spiritualism for a commercial era (actually, you could say that spiritualism has always been commercial). Blinky and Minky were hands down the finest guinea pig puppets I've ever seen.

As expected, a real mix of things. I have to single out Mary Seacole and The Clock Master as my favourites. There was an all-time low in September with a one-woman vanity show by a not particularly talented 'singer/songwriter,' which was half a cabaret (including songs from a musical she's written about Adam, Eve and Milton in therapy- as you do) and the other half was a solo musical in which she played a gay man dying of AIDS, performed to tracks used for ring tones (the same eight beats on a loop over and over again). It really was dire ("Who does she think she is- Kathryn Hunter?!"). It's very hard indeed to imagine anything else being as soul-destroyingly awful as that (though Stay With Me Til Dawn was on a par). Here's to a fantastic November and December. I have a very good feeling about all the forthcoming shows and there really never is a dull moment around here.


Friday, October 23, 2009

Rigoletto and Iolanthe

I have to admit it- I'm not really sure if I'm an opera fan. There are some I really love (La Traviata and Eugene Onegin being top of the list), others I wouldn't choose to listen to for fun but found really interesting and moving in performance (Jenufa), but there are many that leave me cold. Jonathan Miller's production of Rigoletto falls into the latter camp. It's something of a modern classic that's been revived numerous times since its premier in 1983 and judging by the performance I saw, I really don't see what's so brilliant about it. For one thing, it didn't sound right in English as the words seemed so banal. It didn't help is that the acting was lacklustre, the singing was nothing more than adequate and the soprano's voice was far too thin for a venue as vast as the ENO. Miller's great innovation is that he transports the action from sixteenth century Italy to 1950s New York and the set for Rigoletto and Gilda's apartment building was straight out of West Side Story. Gilda has to be the wettest blanket in opera- "Oh, my boyfriend is cheating on me and never really loved me, but because I love him sooooo much I'm going to die in his place." Get a grip, girl.

I'm very lucky that all the Gilbert and Sullivan shows I've seen to date have been beautifully sung and presented, but it's the kind of thing I enjoy well enough while the show is going on (though the baby switching twist in HMS Pinafore is just too much) but am quite happy to leave behind at the end. Although I love musical comedy, I've always found G&S just a bit too cutesy and contrived for my liking. I first saw this production of fairy and parliament operetta Iolanthe at the Rosemary Branch last year and it's even better now.  I knew there was a reason why I'd never been to the Pleasance Theatre in spite of the fact it's reasonably local- it's so convaluted to get to by public transport. A shame, as it's a very nice venue with really comfy sofas and the openness of the auditorium works beautifully.

One of the things I loved most about this was the attention to detail and the way that all the characters responded to each other and to all the crazy things going on. I shouldn't really single out anyone from the universally excellent cast, but the three adorable fairies, Fleta (Charlotte Wooll-Rovers), Celia (Karen Richmond) and Laila (Rosie Strobel- whose facial expressions reminded me greatly of Nessa in Gavin & Stacey- could Ness have had a secret career as a G&S star?? Interesting how Gilbert and Sullivan and Gavin and Stacey share the same initials...) stole every scene they were in, giggling and prancing like hyper eight year olds. Iolanthe herself was beautifully sung by Anne-Marie Cullum and the Fairy Queen, portrayed by Kristin Finnigan, was an majestic figure who also was a devoted and loving mother to her daughters. Director John Savournin was very sweet as love interest Strephon (though I missed the blue hair) and he and Georgia Ginsberg as his lady love Phyllis in her flouncy gingham frock and curly blonde wig made an adorable pair of young lovers. There was also a delightful turn by Simon Butteriss as the Lord Chancellor. The music was played beautifully by the Eaton-Young Piano Duo. I loved Mia Wallden's costumes, especially the fairies' brightly coloured ballet-style frocks. It all looked so fresh and vibrant, and the boat that Strephon and Phyllis sailed off in after their duet was a hilarious touch.

I'll never be a card carrying G&S fan (like I am with Sondheim), but for the first time in my life, I thought I might like to listen to more of their works for the fun of it. Something of a revelation.

Monday, October 19, 2009

October acquisitions



It might sound strange, but I rarely buy books new. I prefer finding them second-hand, as if they've been on the shelf waiting for me to rescue them, so I only really buy from bookshops when I have book tokens to spend. I wanted to buy The Brontës Went To Woolworths and Miss Hargreaves, and as the latter wasn't in stock (maybe next time), I settled on Love's Shadow instead. I guess Bloomsbury must have seen how successful Persephone have been, so they've created their own series of 'forgotten' novels. I know I'm a little late to the party, but I'm looking forward to seeing what they have to offer.

Moonraker and At Mrs Lippincote's came from a FreeCyle fair. Both are ex-library copies and in rather ropey condition, but they'll do. I'm reading the latter at the moment and the former doesn't look like typical Virago fare- the blurb sounds a bit like Frenchman's Creek.

I found Spinster for a very reasonable price at Cancer Research UK (which I find to be one of the more expensive charity shops) and it looks most interesting. The Daisy Chain came from the Salvation Army, and it's easily the fattest Virago I've ever come across (673 pages). I remember Wilmet in A Glass of Blessings saying that she was named after a character in a Charlotte Yonge novel- the author biography states that Yonge was the author of about 160 novels, which were heavily edited by her father and John Keble and was a life-long believer in the inferiority of women. I somehow doubt I'll ever actually read this... Lovely cover portrait by Arthur Hughes, though.

The lettering on the spine of the one underneath has completely faded, but it's an edition of Peer Gynt, found amongst a bunch of stuff being thrown away, which might come in useful as I'm attending a rehearsed reading of the play at the Rosemary Branch on Friday, and it would be helpful to have some idea as to what's going on...

Singled Out is a non-fiction work about the women left husband-less after WW1, it's full of people I like and I was very pleased to find it at Oxfam. Rummaging in the non-fiction section really can pay off.

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Judgment Day (Almeida Theatre)



Despite being local, I'm a bit ambivalent towards the Almeida Theatre. I always get the impression that they take themselves terribly seriously as they seem to do Serious Drama only without much in the way of fun. They get tons of funding and plenty of support from rich people, attract lots of star names for their productions and always get outstanding reviews, many of which bemuse me entirely. I've seen a couple of really excellent shows there (Duet for One with a once in a lifetime performance from Juliet Stevenson being a highlight of my theatre going career), but I find so many of them overly earnest and frankly pretentious and dull. I was only vaguely familiar with Ödön von Horvath beforehand as the author of Tales From The Vienna Woods which my grandfather edited (unfortunately for me in German, which I don't know) and it makes me wonder why his plays aren't produced more frequently. In fact, James Macdonald's production is the first fully staged production of Judgment Day in this country, thanks to Christopher Hampton's translation and championing of his work.

Judgment Day doesn't make any explicit references to the Nazis or anti-semitism, but the behaviour of the members of this ghastly provincial town who are quite happy to swap one hate figure for another certainly evokes the way that petty vindictiveness can grow into mob hysteria. It all sounds dreary, but it's absolutely gripping (with a certain amount of sardonic humour) and all the characters are well drawn regardless of their overall importance to the narrative, particularly Sarah Woodward as an increasingly malicious gossip.

Joseph Millson is outstanding as the station master Thomas Hudetz ("such a nice young man, they don't make young men like that anymore...") who has always lived a blameless life and "followed orders and done my duty" until he is 'distracted' by young Anna (a most assured Laura Donnelly), leading to a failure to deliver a signal that leads to a collision on the lines, and both commit perjury. This inevitably leads to horrible consequences. The kiss is witnessed by Hudetz's much maligned older wife (played to neurotic perfection by Suzanne Burden), who is branded a madwoman and pariah. Upon his release from prison, Hudetz is welcomed back into the community as a hero, until the tables turn again...

The staging is remarkably clever, as the train tracks twist and turn at different angles to highlight different locations and perspectives. I also appreciated how it was performed straight through- an interval would have greatly interrupted the suspense.

I was never bored which is high praise for the Almeida. A terrific production and one that's more than worthy of a transfer.


Saturday, October 10, 2009

(Esther) Freud, Forster, Pym and Drabble


There's something about the English in Italy that novelists seem to find irresistible. It's easy to see why- the heat, and the beauty of the surroundings give way to all sorts of emotional explosions and self discovery. The heroine of Love Falls by Esther Freud is seventeen year old Lara, who is taken to Italy by her academic father whom she only slightly knows during the time of Charles and Diana's wedding (did people ever really think that that was a love match?), where they get involved with his old friend Andrew Willoughby, his mistress and his gang of spoiled brats. There's certainly an echo of Brideshead Revisited in the depiction of the exiled aristocrat with a Catholic wife who refuses to divorce him, but none of these characters have any of the charm or magnetism of Waugh's clan. The unpleasantness of the Willoughbys would make even Anthony Blanche blush. I found Lara a frustrating character in that she never really responds to anything and doesn't ask any questions about the tangled intrigues she finds herself caught up in. I have to say that although Esther Freud's prose is of course superior to Stephenie Meyer's, I didn't feel as if it was a million miles away from Bella Swann and Edward Cullen (gawky girl who doesn't realise she's beautiful swooning over impossibly beautiful boy). It makes me realise that character really is the thing I value most in a novel, more so than plot (as A Glass Full of Blessings shows)- if I don't care for any of them, there isn't really much point in continuing. Nice cover art, though.     
                                                                                            

Where Angels Fear To Tread definitely isn't my favourite novel by E.M. Forster (I wasn't deliberately going for an English in Italy theme, it just happened). The story of impetuous young widow Lilia who goes to Italy, marries an Italian (younger than her) to the disapproval of her snobbish in-laws before dying in childbirth certainly exposes English superiority and hypocrisy at its worse, but I found it all rather flat overall. I was helping with an audition earlier this week (handing out scripts) and one of the auditionees came in reading this- I mentioned that I felt Forster did the English in Italy better in A Room With A View...                                                  

I picked up A Glass of Blessings in honour of the new Barbara Pym group on LibraryThing, which was most entertaining and delightful. One doesn't read Barbara Pym for her plots as there isn't really one to speak of. This is the third Pym novel I've read, and it's unusual in the sense that its heroine, Wilmet (what a name), is a fairly young, financially comfortable married woman with rather too much time on her hands and not much to do. Pym has such a flair for creating quietly quirky characters and I particularly enjoyed Wilmet's go-getting mother-in-law Sibyl (strangely the character I most identified with) and kleptomaniac clergy housekeeper Mr Basin. I have to admit that I never expected to find a gay couple in a Pym novel, but it's handled in a very understated, matter-of-fact way, and it forces Wilmet to reassess her assumptions about love and relationships. My favourite bit was in the blood donation clinic, which shows just how little has changed (my brother is a donor and has had some not so pleasant experiences due to horrible organisation and evil nurses- that scares me far more than the prospect of a needle), and reminded me of an episode of the Provincial Lady that E.M. Delafield never wrote. Come to think of it, I'm not sure if I've ever read a scene in a novel in a blood donation clinic. Quite surprising really, as such a place is rife for drama. I also love all the cross-references to characters in other Pym novels, it's like an extended network where everyone knows everyone else.


I'm not quite sure how to talk about The Red Queen by Margaret Drabble. This is going to sound really strange and it's not something I've ever suggested before, but I recommend reading the first narrative (the Crown Princess of Korea's story) and skipping the rest. The Crown Princess's story is frankly superb and absolutely riveting with one of the most fascinating and unique narrative voices I've ever come across. Her life, involving her marriage as a child to the mentally unstable Crown Prince  is so full of violence, intrigue and backstabbing and puts many a Jacobean tragedy in the shade (as the Crown Princess herself observes). It's quite complete in itself, which is an excellent thing as the second story is bit of a dead weight. The Crown Princess narrates her story from the afterlife, where she is able to observe her life and position from a global historical and cultural context. Normally I'd find such a device annoyingly contrived, but it works brilliantly. I think it's because the Crown Princess comes across as such a wise, introspective figure that it's completely believable that she'd be able to draw these parallels herself without the author putting the words in her mouth (though that's exactly what's happening, so I may just be talking nonsense...). There are also some deliciously wry comments. The second half of the story deals with Babs (awful name), who finds herself fascinated by the Crown Princess's story on her way to a conference in Korea and has an affair with a famous academic. That's about it. There are some tenuous parallels between her and the Crown Princess. She eventually meets Margaret Drabble at a party, who is so taken by the story that she decides to write a novel about it. That's when it all becomes too clever for its own good. I'm going to hear Margaret Drabble talk about this novel at the Korean Cultural Centre a week on Tuesday, should be interesting...