Three biographies, three writers

The fun side of being a retiree is that I now have so much more time for reading, so I indulge as often as I can (which is fairly often).  I have recently read the biographies of three writers. All of them were fascinating and it made me reconsider the books each of the authors had written. So for the past few weeks there's been a lot of reading done at Casa de Viejo.

Flora Thompson and 'Lark Rise to Candleford'

First up, perhaps the least well-known of my trio of writers is Flora Thompson. Flora was an English writer who wrote a classic story of life in the English countryside before progress changed the idyllic country way of life forever. 'Lark Rise to Candleford' was originally written as three separate novels in 1939, 1941 and 1943. The books were then abridged to form one book in 1945 and it has remained a much-loved account ever since. It's always been considered to be autobiographical with the main character Laura being Flora's alter ego.  Some critics believe the story is a highly romanticised and unrealistically nostalgic version of her life and delight in picking holes in it. While we do indeed read of the joys of nature, the festivals, the folk tunes,  and the games the children played, we also read of the farmers' struggles, the hard lives the women endured, the poverty, the constant threat of eviction, the miles everyone had to walk and the sad deaths of children.  It's written in a delightful, evocative style that vividly brings the characters, landscapes and country rituals to life. I have two copies: my father's original 1946 copy and the 1991 illustrated version Kate gave me. I've always loved the story but never gave much thought to its author. In fact, I'd never read anything about her.

A 1948 edition

My 1991 edition

Then I discovered a recent biography of her. It is called 'Dreams of the Good Life', written by Richard Mabey.
He retraces her life (often with some difficulty because of the paucity of information available) but succeeds in bringing Flora to life - a woman who was born in a tiny country hamlet, began her working life as a post office clerk, married, began writing as a pastime, then devoted much of her life to becoming a professional writer.

Her early attempts (from around 1903) were essays and short stories that were accepted by popular magazines of the day such as the Ladies Companion, Catholic Fireside, and the National Review. Some of her stories were more like nature rambles with descriptions of the countryside and wildlife, others were portraits of characters from her childhood, while some stories were pure fiction that featured 'strong, often thwarted heroines who are rescued or redeemed by sensitive bookish men' [page 93]. Her attempts at poetry were less successful.

She was in her sixties and her writing life was almost behind her (her latest efforts had been writing colonial adventures as a ghost-writer for a retired big-game hunter) when she started to jot down recollections of her early childhood and country life. With the depression underway the time was ripe for a gently nostalgic look back at the past and the first of her trilogy began to take shape. (Similarly, just a few years earlier, in America, the first of the heart-warming Little House on the Prairie series was published). And so it was that Flora realised that, after all these years, she had finally found her voice. She wrote the story looking back as an adult and invented 'Laura' to provide a child's eye. Woodcuts illustrating rural life adorned the first edition. They also herald each chapter in later editions but by a different artist. Here's an example.

Woodcut by Julia Neild in subsequent editions.

In the 1991 illustrated version, there are numerous sentimental paintings
 that depict idyllic thatch-roofed houses, climbing roses round the doors and dozing cats
- a far cry from reality. 

Flora died aged seventy, having lived to see Lark Rise to Candleford published but not to enjoy its immense success and acceptance.  Critics have researched extensively to provide evidence that some of it is just not true. But Flora openly admitted that she amalgamated several characters into one, made up others, changed the location of houses and included some facts that she would not have known as a child. Because, while the story uses her early life and love of family, friends and nature, it was never meant to be an exact interpretation of Flora's life.

Biographer Richard Mabey documents that Flora submitted the manuscript to the Oxford University Press. At the time the university did not handle works of fiction so, to be sure it was published, they reclassified it as 'autobiography'. Hence the misconception ever since. What remains, however, is a vivid and moving story that we believe in. The biography also includes a list of all Flora Thomson's works, other critical works of her writing, and additional sources.

Are you still with me?

J D Salinger and 'Catcher in the Rye'
The second biography I read was J.D. Salinger: A Life by Kenneth Slawenski. It's an engaging biography if you want to learn more about this reclusive author - of whom I knew absolutely nothing. Beautifully and energetically written (perhaps teetering a little towards hero-worship), it follows the life of this very complex man from his birth in 1919 to his death in 2010 at 90 years old, taking in his relationships with his parents and friends, his marriages, his literary output, his encounters with authors such as Hemingway and Capote, his terrible war-time experiences (the most engaging chapter), his run-ins with a range of editors when he submitted short stories for publication, and his increasing depression.

I loved the story of the photographer trying to take his photo (the one that ended up on the cover of this book). Evidently Salinger was nervous and did not want to pose, so after a long while getting nowhere, the photographer suggested he smoke and read from a book - it worked. It was a real coup because Salinger had always insisted that no photographs of himself should ever be included on the covers of his books.

As a man beset by the mantle of fame after his best-seller 'Catcher in the Rye' was published in 1951, he retreated further from the demands of life, wrestling with his spirituality and becoming more and more religious. Following the publication of Catcher he decided he did not like the cover  illustration and insisted that his works in future have plain covers with no illustrations.

This original cover shows the carousel that figures near the end of the book.

[Source: Goodreads]

Subsequent editions appear to have adhered to Salinger's demand for plain covers.

He never achieved the same accolades with his follow-up writings, became disillusioned with fame and withdrew from public scrutiny. The biography also has very comprehensive analyses of Salinger's major published stories, something that is interesting if you have read any of these works (which I haven't), but felt far too long, as Slawenski describes each plot in great detail followed by extensive character analyses, and then a psychoanalysis of Salinger himself through these writings which was a bridge too far for me. But the book is compulsively readable (though I did skip some of the plot reviews) and I feel I now understand this American icon as much as anyone can.

So I felt I had to read the book for which he is most well-known, 'Catcher in the Rye'. The idea of reading about teenage angst in America in the 1950s had never appealed to me before despite its now cult status. What a surprise I got. I thoroughly enjoyed 17-year old Holden Caulfield's thoughts and actions as he spent a few days in New York after being expelled from school but too afraid to go home and confront his parents. I loved the writing style that darted here and there. I felt such a range of emotions with each of his reminiscences and couldn't put the book down. Instead of the angry character I expected to read about, I encountered a sensitive soul who thought like an adult, loved reading and writing, and adored his little sister.

No wonder the book captured people's imagination and hearts. Well - not everyone; there are still a lot out there who think Holden's a whining, self-centred, arrogant upstart who should get over the death of his brother and get on with life, and that Salinger's style is bland and boring. Not for me though. The outrage that followed its publication over its language, Salinger's literary style, and incidents such as Holden's meeting with a prostitute, seems laughable now. I think the only downside for modern readers may be the outdated slang expressions.

Along with many others over the years I was intrigued with the title until I read that Caulfield hears a child singing 'If a body catch a body comin' through the rye', and afterwards dreams that he is in a big field of rye on the edge of a cliff and lots of children are running and playing and some get very close to the cliff edge. It is his job to catch the children and save them, making him the 'catcher in the rye' - emphasising one of the themes in the book of Caulfield's efforts to save people and be admired. His sister eventually tells him he has mis-heard the tune and it is really 'If a body meet a body...'

And now, to the last of the biographies.

Patrick Leigh Fermor and his travel trilogy 

Patrick Leigh Fermor wrote a number of travel books but three in particular were recommended to me by a friend (thanks Michael!) and I quickly devoured them:  'A Time of Gifts', 'Between the Woods and the Water' and 'The Broken Road'. Fermor wrote these when he was in his sixties and seventies looking back on his early travels in 1934 ( a little like Flora Thompson who also began her work well into her sixties). As a 19 year old he walked on foot through pre-war Europe from Holland to Istanbul, seeing the sights, meeting people, camping under the stars and exploring the sites where historical battles had been fought and kingdoms battled over. He finally began to write in earnest about these early travels in the 1970s and produced two volumes which covered two thirds of the journey; they were very successful.



 He dabbled with a third volume, finding it difficult as he had lost his diaries and he was ageing. The book was edited and completed after his 2011 death by his biographer Artemis Cooper, hence the name The Broken Road.

All volumes are utterly absorbing. The descriptions of the countryside through which he travelled, the people he met, the food he ate, and his fascination with history are sublime and, in my opinion, remain the pinnacle of travel writing.

So when I read a review of a biography Patrick Leigh Fermor: An Adventure,  I knew I had to have it.

And it didn't disappoint. It's an incisive, intelligent and comprehensive account of his life.
Fermor left school early (after being expelled from a number of schools because of his flamboyance, flouting of the rules and being a daredevil a la the fictional Holden Caulfield), but became a scholar in his own right - of ancient civilisations and languages; he lived with a Greek princess for many years; fought in World War 2 as part of a handful of Special Operations Executives sent in to occupied Crete, and was afterwards awarded the British Distinguished Service Order for his part in the abduction of the Nazi commander of Crete, General Kreipe - a riveting chapter in the biography.  He was also  a handsome playboy who lived his life on his own terms.

A New York Times obituary of Fermor referred to a quote made by a BBC journalist who had described him as 'a cross between Indiana Jones, James Bond and Graham Greene.' He finally met his match and settled down in Greece with photographer wife Joan who was a steady and loving influence and remained his muse for 56 years. Patrick died in 2011 aged 96. As they say... a good innings.

Autumn in the bush

Friday was a day that confirms my belief that autumn is the best of seasons.

In perfectly sublime weather we set off for a walk near Mount Alma in the Spring Mount Conservation Park. The steep and winding drive there gave us wonderfully expansive views of the valleys and plains below us as we drove into the southern remnants of the Mount Lofty Ranges on the Fleurieu Peninsula. Vast farmlands spread out over the hills, dry and bare after the summer.

To set the scene, the walk was nothing compared to the lush rainforests of Tasmania or the towering jarrah and karri forests of south-west Western Australia, nor the rugged coastal beauty of Wilsons Promontory in Victoria. In fact, it was a small regrowth stringybark forest with a thick understorey of grass trees, shrubs and fading wildflowers, with a wide, dirt track that made for easy walking.

But what captured me was the fresh scent of the eucalyptus, the absolute quiet (it was noon so birds were scarce), the gentle hill-top breeze that softened the warmth of the sun, and the feeling that we were utterly alone.  

Those who read my last blog will know that on our recent river walk my camera ran out of battery (due to my negligence). Well, I can top that now, because, in my flurry to get in the car, this time I forgot to take the entire camera! So I fess up and say that all these photos are Steve's.

At the start of the walk an interpretation sign tells us that this bushland is a refuge for the yellow-tailed black cockatoo which is found from Queensland to the Eyre Peninsula. It's the old story: land clearance has lead to a reduced habitat for these birds. Here in this park is one of a few small conserved areas suitable for them.

I don't suppose I fooled anyone into thinking that Steve had developed into an amazing ornithological photographer? (But he was excellent at taking a photo of the drawing on the interpretation sign!)  Unfortunately it was the wrong time of day and we didn't see any of the birds.

I feel dwarfed by the trees.

 

Rambling along the Onkaparinga

Saturday was a quintessential autumn day: a cool morning, a gentle warmth during the day, and a soft blue, near-cloudless sky overhead.  Perfect for a stroll along the Onkaparinga River in the Onkaparinga Recreation Park around 55 kms north of Encounter Bay.

The Onkaparinga River rises in the Mount Lofty area of Adelaide and winds through gullies and gorges before it flattens out into an estuary and finally, emerges into the Gulf St Vincent at Port Noarlunga. 

There are a number of walks on offer in the region and, after reading the South Australian walking website, we chose the flat Wetlands Walk near the estuary. Actually, the main track on this 90-minute walk borders the river for a couple of kilometres, with the wetland bit being a boardwalked loop off this main track. An interpretation sign at the beginning of the walk tells us that the river's name comes from the indigenous Kaurna word Ngangkiparinga, which means the 'Women's River'.

It was an easy and relaxed walk and we enjoyed the placid expanse of the river, the trees and the grasses...

...  and the birdlife.

We spot a fisherman...

... and a family having fun with a swing

We continued on, admiring the river gums.

I'm a sucker for bark so couldn't resist these shots.

 The area had once been farmland and there were still traces of farm fences and remains of (possibly) telegraph or electricity poles.

And then, some action. The Seaford-line train rumbles across the Onkaparinga Valley rail bridge.

Cyclists ride pass.

A Tiger Moth gets set to take off from an airstrip across the river.

Look closely and you'll see a couple of kangaroos on the left and right of the photo.

 We eventually came to the wetlands loop. The boardwalk took us on a winding path among the reeds and marshland. Photographs on the website show this area full of water, but now, in mid-autumn it is dry and parched - not a drop to be seen.

Eagle-eyed readers will have noticed that I am taking a photo with my phone. I had mis-read the battery bars on my camera before we left home and thought I had plenty of battery life for the day's outing. Sadly, it petered out halfway along the walk and I had to resort to the phone.

I took advantage of this seat to soak up the surroundings.

 We felt relaxed and happy as we retraced our steps back to the carpark.

Friends come to visit

Our good friends Lynda and Tony from Cairns popped in for a visit this week.
In the late afternoon we strolled down to Encounter Bay where we showed them the whale interpretation sign - one of 19 that Steve developed last year in conjunction with the Council and whale experts.

Here we are on the walk along our coastal path in lovely autumn sunshine.

Lynda spots some seabirds, and later on, some penguins soaking up the late-afternoon sunshine that is warming the rocks.

While chatting over champagne and nibbles in the courtyard later on, the sun set and Tony felt the need to put on a cardigan!!! Evidently for a Cairns resident, our 23 degrees was way too cool.


I am not sure that I would have woken up at 7.00 am the following day and walked up the Bluff if not for their urging. But what a delight it was, watching the sun come up. (Since retirement, a 9.00 o'clock get-out-of-bed is more my style.)

The whole shore is bathed in glorious amber light.

 The sun is fully above the horizon now with just a hint of sunlight reaching the shore. The Bluff beckons.

It was a steep climb up the Rosetta Track. (For history buffs: The Bluff was known as Kongkengguwar by the Ramindjeri, the whalers named it the Bluff, and it was officially named by the Governer of South Australia in 1839 as Rosetta Head, named for the wife of prominent businessman George Fife Angus who played a significant part in establishing the colony of South Australia. These days, it's the Bluff.)

 Tony cuts a solitary figure as Lynda and I take a break to breathe.

 But the views are lovely from the top and no matter how many times I climb here I always get a thrill looking at the coastline stretching away.

Back home I cooked up a celebratory breakfast. By now it was way past 9 o'clock and the sun was heating up.

 So time to relax before they had to head off back to Adelaide... and home to Cairns.
A happy (and active) visit.