An otherwise murky January has been leavened considerably by the arrival of belated Christmas books from the Papal family. A perfect treat for the winter gloom will be Pages from the Goncourt Journals. My poor old brain is craving a book into which I can simply dip, without having to follow a labyrinthine plot. I haven’t actually read any novels by the Goncourt brothers, but suspect their account of the belle epoque will surpass fiction.
I’m now craving a trip to Venice so I can read Vernon Lee’s Hauntings and Other Fantastic Tales in their atmospheric setting. Added to my theory pile are Nobody’s Angels: Middle-Class Women and Domestic Ideology in Victorian Culture and Their Fair Share: Women, Power and Criticism in the Athenaeum. It will be something of a luxury to be able to read these tomes at my leisure, rather than having to endlessly return them to the library because some beast has made a reservation.
As a small (almost imperceptible) publisher, I’m becoming increasingly interested in the business of Victorian publishing. Prince of Publishers tells the story of George Smith, who most famously discovered Charlotte Bronte. He was also the friend of Thackeray, Elizabeth Gaskell, George Eliot, John Ruskin, and Leslie Stephen. Apparently, by the time he died he was a millionaire with a mansion on Park Lane. There’s hope for me yet.
Finally, thanks are due to OUP for review copies of Elizabeth Gaskell’s Ruth and Oscar Wilde’s The Complete Short Stories. The former will be featuring in my academic ramblings on Victorian attitudes to illegitimacy, and the latter will be deliciously frivolous.
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I love Mrs G’s Ruth. I hope Victorian Secrets does get you that mansion
Thanks, Catherine. I’m not sure that the mansion will be forthcoming, although I’d settle for a modest amount of additional book space!