The proof of the book is in the re-reading

In my family, I am considered something of an oddity in that I can – and will – read and re-read my favourite books. It’s something my Grandma never understood about my Granddad – “You know the ending! It’s just not as interesting the second time!” – but I believe that the proof of an excellent book is in the re-reading. If it is truly well-written with a gripping plot and believable characters, re-reading will bring to light new facets of each of these things. Otherwise, I will get bored and stop re-reading.

Some books I have re-read just once (occasionally this has been due to studying them at university!), and others I re-read on a two year to yearly basis. Some of them, I have been reading since childhood, and others are more recent. Here is a selection of books I have lost count of the amount of times I have read, and why. Give them a try J

The Chronicles of Narnia (C.S. Lewis) – childhood classics. My favourite used to be The Voyage of the Dawn Treader and I remember disliking The Horse and His Boy, but this is now actually one of my favourites. A few years ago I decided to read the series based on chronological publication date rather than the order they are usually presented in (beginning with The Magician’s Nephew – which was actually last but one to be published), and I think I prefer it this way. The current order was suggested by a young fan in a letter to Lewis and was adopted after he agreed it would make sense. Every time I read these books I discover something new!

Little Women (Louisa May Alcott) – my Mum used to joke I could go on Mastermind answering questions about this book. I read it, and its three sequels, many many times as a child. Like every young girl reading this book, I wanted to be Jo March. I’m sure it comes across as very moralistic to anyone reading it for the first time as an adult, but I love it. It’s just the story of four sisters learning their place in the world and how to love each other and those around them really well – and it has some funny moments, too. BBC Radio 4 recently re-ran their dramatic version and I really enjoyed it. The 1994 film is also beautiful.

Wuthering Heights (Emily Brontë) – read for the first time aged 11, this was the first book I really had to work at understanding. I knew part of the story from the musical Heathcliff (it was a musical starring Cliff Richard in the title role; my mum was a huge fan so we watched the video many times!) but realised that half of the story in that was missing. I wrote my A level comparative paper on it (comparing the treatment of romance in a social context to that in Elizabeth Gaskell’s North and South) and learned pages of quotes from it for a final year exam on Victorian Literature during my degree. It’s a fascinating book, and each time I read it I realise that more and more; it’s just so unusual for its time (and for any time), and the characters are so individual – I can’t think of equivalents to Cathy Earnshaw and Heathcliff in any other books I know. I still cannot understand, however, how ANYONE having actually read the book, could find Heathcliff attractive.

I Capture the Castle (Dodie Smith) – as I write, I am watching the film adaptation of this. Although some details of the novel are amended, I think the spirit of the book is quite well communicated – and I love Bill Nighy as Mortmain (though physically he doesn’t correlate to the description in the book). This is the classic coming of age novel, and what I love is Cassandra’s narrative, the beautiful characterisation of the eccentric family, and the literary references. I also find it funnier and funnier each time I read it, and every time I don’t want it to end because it is so delightfully written. Having read some of Smith’s other novels in the past year, this is still the best in terms of storyline, characterisation and pace. It’s also incredibly bittersweet, and has probably my favourite opening line of all time (‘I write this sitting in the kitchen sink’).

These is My Words (Nancy Turner) – at the last meeting of school’s book club, we discussed this as I had recommended it before. All of the ladies who read it absolutely loved it, and every person I have lent it to has also loved it. I still maintain it would be a fantastic film, particularly with Hugh Jackman playing Jack, the main male character! Another diary form novel, it draws you into Sarah’s world, a young woman from a pioneering family finding her way in the world. She and Jack are wonderful characters, and this book succeeds in making me both laugh and cry every single time I read it. Again, bittersweet, but so satisfying. There are sequels. One day perhaps I’ll read them...

The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets (Eva Rice) – This is a funny one. It’s just a retro chick-lit type novel but it’s so light, fluffy, innocent and fun that I read it for pure escapism. It contains: a mouldering stately home, a poverty-stricken noble family who live in it, three teenagers living up in the late 50s, an eccentric older lady, and lots of improbable happens. It’s delightful.

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell (Susanna Clarke) – a wonderful combination of the politics, literature and society of the early 19^th century, Austenesque writing, and magic. It’s really long, but utterly enthralling. The at times very long footnotes add richness and humour to the story, and the novel is set in a rich imaginative world which is incredibly convincing. The first time I ‘read’ it was age 17 as an audio book – very long but very worth it as the skill of the writing becomes so evident when read slowly. The Ladies of Grace Adieu, the book of short stories, is also lovely, and I hope Clarke writes more soon!

Exploring the Wild West... through books

It seems I’ve always been interested in the American West. As a child of about nine I bought a very tattered copy of Little House on the Prairie (Laura Ingalls Wilder, 1935) and was instantly intrigued by the life of making do in difficult situations, the resilience of those who pioneered the West, and their attachment to the land. Funnily enough I was never interested in America as an actual place to visit until recent years, during which I have met many Americans from California to New Jersey, Texas to Illinois. I suppose to me the West as a literary concept wasn’t a real country I was interested in visiting; it existed in my imagination and that was enough. It seems a fair conclusion considering the West of my imagination, of the late 19^th century, probably no longer exists, but I do wonder whether this separation of ‘the country in my head’ and ‘the country as it is’ goes further than this, as I’ve read many books centring around India (The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy; A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth) without actually wanting to travel there. I now have been there, however, and can feel the life and colour of India through writing about it much more effectively. What I’m really saying, I suppose, is that to enjoy books about different places, times, cultures, you do not actually have to have been there.

I enjoyed the Little House books for many years – and probably would still do so now if they weren’t in a box somewhere in the attic with many of my other favourites from childhood (Enid Blyton, What Katy Did etc). While at secondary school I found a book in the library: These Is My Words (Nancy Turner, 1999) which I read several times. It is now one of my favourite books and, I feel, shockingly overlooked. I now have my own copy, and I have lent it to perhaps six or seven different people, all of whom were completely captured by the spirit and passion of the story. It is the diary of a young girl – Sarah Agnes Prine – whose family have been living in the West since she can remember. Her father decides to move back East but on the way misfortune strikes. To say much more would to be giving away the story, but I think what makes it for me are the two main characters – Sarah and the man who appears in her life over and over again, Captain Jack. Sarah is an incredibly resilient, strong and humorous woman and I think there is something about her that I want to be. Captain Jack is one of the most compelling male characters I’ve ever read; discussing the book with a friend we decided a film should be made of this book starring Hugh Jackman as the Captain! Apparently there are sequels to this book, although I am still trying to get hold of copies.

The latest of my adventures in the West has been quite different. Willa Cather’s O Pioneers! (1913) is the second book she wrote, and the first where she felt ‘This was the first time I walked off on my own feet – everything before was half real and half an imitation of writers whom I admired.’ It is the first book by her which I have read, and despite my initial uncertainty it completely drew me in. It centres around a Swedish family living in the West and struggling to make the land pay. As the story opens we are shown Alexandra, the eldest of four, being left the responsibility of the farm by her dying father who has ‘spent his first five years on the Divide getting into debt, and the last six getting out’. The novel makes several skips of time, focussing eventually on a time twenty years later when Alexandra has made the farm prosperous and her youngest brother, Emil, is deciding how to make his way in the world. Alexandra, like Sarah Prine, is resilient and strong, but she does not have Sarah’s spark of brilliance and fire. This does not make her any less likeable; her deep attachment to the land and the steadiness of her character and opinions also make us sympathetic. Like many stories centring around life in the West, the book is marked with tragedy but also with hope. The prose itself is sparkling and expressive; Cather is definitely on my ‘to read more of’ list.