Ruth Rendell

I have just finished THE WATER'S LOVELY by prolific mystery writer Ruth Rendell. Again she has written a book one can't put down. Even if the plot seems to rely on coincidence, the vividness of her characters pulls one along. I followed breathlessly the tale of Ismay and her close sister Heather, the step father, deceased Guy who likes long slow baths, mad Beatrice the mother and her sister Pamela who goes to a dating service and meets a dark swarthy man with attractive eyes, Edmund the male nurse who lives with his demanding mother Irene and her friend the venal Marion who lives by her wits and endures a brother Fowler who smells as he gets his precarious living from going through bins in the posher parts of London. Not to mention Andrew who is a lawyer who smokes. And of course two adorable rabbits who seem prey to some horrible fate. (shades of Fatal Attraction) and then a Max Jacob handbag. The details remain with me.
I was distracted from the hurly burly, the dreadful real news, the explosions, the NYTimes with its sensational information tastefully written. Good for you Ruth Rendell, you have entertained me. Long may you write.

Problems as necklaces

We went on a hike, eleven plus me so we were a dozen. I longed to ask which is the beloved disciple John, but knew no one would reply, thinking I am an odd one and of course they are partly right. I often have thoughts which have allusions in them and no one can follow the allusions. Mention Laurence Olivier nowadays and people look blankly at you. One can go on telling stories of course, one can make them up, confident that no one can contradict.
Say it with authority and a smart accent and you're home free. People are easily taken in and react to the surface. Of course that's alright as one can control the situation but when one looks for someone to surprise, to astonish, to intrigue, these are rarer than those hen's teeth. Go on say something.. Tell me a story. Etonnez-moi. Alack, it doesn't happen. One sets out with high hopes and as so often happens both with life and especially with people one finds dull dross, sad aspirations and problems. Of course how many of your friends do you know who wear their problems like a river of diamonds around their neck, proud of the grief and anxiety. By their problems shall ye know them. The problems make them interesting. So they think poor dears.

There is in fact little or nothing there. Sad, sad, sad.

I love that quotation from Lady Caroline Lamb about Byron "Mad,bad and dangerous to know." One still longed to meet him.

Alan Bennett and thoughts..

Well, I ran out of steam, lost my puff, or my interest for blogging. And yet I am often thinking things as I walk down the street or lie in bed, thinking I'd like someone else to comment on that or just listen to it. I have just read Alan Bennett's new book THE UNCOMMON READER about the Queen discovering the joys of reading. It is slyly amusing. One wonders if HM has read it in an idle moment, not that HM has many of those. I expect by now she has seen everything and been everywhere although I think not to the former USSR which I suppose makes sense, the commies having executed her relatives, the Tsar, his lovely wife and children, now rehabilitated in a kind of way. Of course as I recall the Brits could have saved the Russian monarchy but did not want to cross the new regime taking over in 1917. I remember Princess Kotchoubey and her husband settled in Paris having been refused entry to the UK. Perhaps the UK should have been a little more selective than it has been in refusing entry to some but who knows. Princess K. and her husband did alright though raising four fair daughters and the Princess herself working hard as a corsettiere. Bet it was hard work putting up with those rich Americans after the second world war flashing their huge wealth around.