All of these were really impulse buys and 2 of the three were successful so that is pretty good I think.
In Daunts beautiful bookshop in Marylebone High Street, where one could go simply to admire the gorgeous Edwardian architecture, they arrange their travel section in a very particular fashion. There is a bookshelf of all things Italian and I mean ‘all things’. I needed a guide to Florence, which I indeed found but alongside the guidebooks were cookery books, poetry, novels (think Elena Ferrante, My Brilliant Friend etc.) and then this unassuming little hardback: ‘A Florence Diary’ by Diana Athill. I would happily read anything by this writer and I was wasn’t disappointed this time.
Diana Athill went to Florence for 2 weeks soon after the end of the Second World War for a holiday with her cousin. Her mother had requested that she keep a diary and this she did, already showing the skills and qualities of the writer she would become. The diary was kept and secreted by her mother and only surfaced again when Diana Athill was sorting her mother’s effects after her death. Eventually, many years later, it was decided the diary would be published and in 2016 Diana Athill wrote a foreword to it. It turned out that this was just a couple of years before her own death.
The diary is short and paints a picture of Italy still reeling from the Second World War. You can feel the heat and you can also sense the joy of two young people enjoying foreign travel. A real treat.
The other 2 books were bought at the same time. ‘The Children’s Bach’ by Helen Garner. I did not know the author (although I think I should have done) and I’m not entirely sure why, having picked it up, I didn’t put it down again. It simply didn’t work for me and I’m both annoyed and confused about that, especially as the preface was written by David Nicholls. I’m having rather a David Nicholls moment and he was raving about this book so why didn’t I enjoy it? The story focuses on a family, one which unexpectedly frays and falls apart. Maybe I didn’t help myself by reading the early chapters at the hairdressers, where a noisy conversation was happening next to me … but I really didn’t want to finish the 150 pages.
In the blurb, Helen Garner and this short novel are feted and applauded. It must be me. It is only short. You might love it.
The third book was safe ground for me. ‘The Man in the Picture’ by Susan Hill, one of my favourite writers, is a powerful, gothic, ghost story. It involves a picture of Venetian carnival which appears to undergo subtle but life-threatening changes over time. The malevolence emanates from a girl who is cast aside by her lover in favour of another. The picture becomes a talisman for the malice, hatred and bitterness that grow within her.
The fear that Susan Hill skilfully engenders in this slim volume is both macabre and inexplicable…and it keeps the reader turning the pages late into the night.
In the reviews quoted at the front of the book, the word accomplished is frequently used. I understand this as it describes Susan Hill’s writing with a high degree of accuracy. This book would fill a reasonably lengthy train journey or a European flight and it wouldn’t take up much room in your hand luggage. Enjoy.
Where do you think the boundary comes? Is it Diana At-hill or Diana Ath-ill? I don’t know but, in my head, I’m going with the first option.