Showing posts with label Nancy Mitford. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nancy Mitford. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Season's Readings

Well hello again, and happy holidays....to any readers who may still be out there, that is! I have to admit  that over the past several months I've been guilty of two of my biggest blogging pet peeves: 1) repeated apologies and excuses during slow periods of blogging; and 2) a long, unexplained stretch of radio silence (in my case it was mostly due to a lack of blogging inspiration). I'm feeling ready to start posting more regularly around here, though, Maybe that will happen in the new year, maybe earlier. I don't want to commit to anything definite, but I did want to briefly pop in with a recommendation for a perfect seasonal read: Christmas Pudding and Pigeon Pie by Nancy Mitford.


Coupled together in a recently reissued volume, these are two of Mitford's earliest novels. Like her more famous works, these are frothy and witty reads. With influences from Mitford's own life, they simultaneously offer a glimpse into and poke fun at the British aristocracy of a certain time period. Unlike her later novels, though, these two have more hi-jinx going on in their plots, with mistaken identities and characters who are not what they seem. In Christmas Pudding, a writer poses as a tutor to gain access to a country house and the biographical papers of its family. In Pigeon Pie, the outbreak of World War II sees a flighty heiress get drawn into a German spy plot that's unfolding right under her nose. Both are thoroughly enjoyable reads, particularly for anyone who's already a Mitford fan. And although only one of the two stories unfolds during the holiday season, either one would be a great read for this time of year--perfect light reading for when you're curled up on the coach with Christmas music playing in the background.

Have you read any Christmas themed books lately? Or are there any non-holiday books you're planning to read this season? I know that I'm looking forward to diving into at least a few more during my upcoming holiday break.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Noblesse Oblige

Noblesse Oblige is an unusual little book that I picked up at a used bookstore on Cape Cod. Edited by Nancy Mitford, it's a slim volume that proclaims itself to be "an enquiry into the identifiable characteristics of the English Aristocracy". It makes this enquiry though a series of essays by Mitford, Evelyn Waugh, and others that dissect the distinctions, primarily related to language and speech, between the British upper class and everyone else.



The collection opens with an essay about sociological linguistics by Alan S.C. Ross in which he outlines some of the differences between upper class (U) and non- upper class (non-U) usage. This covers everything from how to refer to places ("I'm going to Downton" would be U while "I'm going to Downton Abbey" would be very non-U) to specific word choices (radio and wealthy are both non-U words, while wireless and rich are U). This is followed by Mitford's own essay, in which she offers her response to what Ross says, which is in turn followed by an open letter in which Evelyn Waugh responds to what Mitford says, and so on and so forth. It all has the potential to be very dry, but Mitford and Waugh (as well as some of the less famous essayists) bring just enough of their characteristic wit and irony to their contributions to make the subject bearable.

Based on some of the online reviews I've read, it seems that public opinion is a bit divided about Noblesse Oblige. Should its arguments be taken seriously or is it meant to be read as satire? I think the answer lies in the middle. It's essays provide genuine, albeit lighthearted, commentary about a minor social debate that arose at the time of its publication. It's by no means a must-read, even for Mitford fans, but it does have enough to interest and amuse to warrant a quick skim if a copy should happen to cross your path.

Incidentally, I can't help but wonder what George Bryant of Bogota, whose path my copy crossed back in 1964, thought about the book:


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