Green Dolphin Street by Elizabeth Goudge

Green DolphinStreet is the story of two sisters who live in the Channel Islands in the mid-1800s. Marguerite and Marianne couldn’t be more different. Marguerite (like her name "daisy") is cheerful and carefree, ready to drink in whatever joys life has to offer. Marianne is less beautiful and much less easily pleased. But she has a thirst for knowledge and for experiences that make her sturdier and more dependable in times of trouble.

Her parents were much exercised over this brain of Marianne’s and were doing their best to repress it within ladylike proportions. But Marrianne wouldn’t be interested in sensible things like crewel work and water-color painting and duet playing on the pianoforte with her little sister Marguerite, even though she did all these things superlatively well. That was the trouble with Marianne, she did them too well, and her restless intellect reached out beyond them to things like mathematics and the politics of the Island parliament, farming, fishing, and sailing, knowledge that was neither attractive nor necessary in a woman and would add nothing whatever to her chances of attracting a suitable husband…

Marianne and Marguerite fall in love with the same young man, William Ozanne. I can’t tell you which one he chooses, but I can say that this novel is no fluffy romance. Instead it’s about the high cost of loving. The original title was “Green Dolphin Country,” which was more appropriate because each character in the book is yearning to find their own “country”, the place where they feel most at home. Some look for this in the love of another person. Others seek it in adventurous places. But all of them learn that this longed-for fulfillment comes at a very high price – death to self. Elizabeth Goudge is a master at this type of story. She writes of flawed people who through their disappointments learn to love in richer ways. Self-giving love is the key to finding their “country,” their native soil.

Goudge is not only a master of writing deeply, she also writes beautifully. Here is a description of the Mother Abess’ room in a convent: In spite of its austerity the room was not cold. It was very beautiful in its simplicity, and Marguerite within the flushed white walls felt as though she were inside a mother-of-pearl shell.

And this description of a loving kiss: It neither promised nor gave security, it was rather a dedication of themselves in comradeship to the danger and pain of living.

I started this book carefully noting passages that I wanted to highlight here on my blog, but ditched that as soon as I became engrossed in the story. When I came down to earth near the end of the book, I finally stopped to underline many beautiful paragraphs. By that time, I didn’t care if I ever blogged about this book or not. I was just glad to have experienced it. My copy is almost 500 pages long so it’s not an easy read, but if you like a well-told story, you’ll be glad to make the effort.

 Blessings,

"Adventures Among Books" by Andrew Lang

Andrew Lang (1844-1912) was a journalist, novelist and literary critic, who is most remembered for the twelve volumes of fairy tales that he did in collaboration with his wife. (Ten of them are free for Kindle as well as dozens of other books he wrote.) Knowing his literary bent, I was intrigued to see this collection of essays on bookish subjects. I will be highlighting only the first essay, which was by far my favorite in the book.

Lang calls this essay his literary biography saying that he has a much easier time remembering books than he does people. He writes, Some are soldiers from the cradle, some merchants, some orators; nothing but the love of books was the gift given to me by the fairies.

From an early age he was surrounded by books and those who loved to read them. He remembers “reading” Midsummer Night’s Dream as a small boy in a candlelit room where someone was playing the piano; he was sitting by the fire looking at an edition with pictures of fairies in it. The fairies seemed to come out of Shakespeare’s dream into the music and the firelight… It seemed an enchanted glimpse of Paradise.

At age four he began to teach himself to read by picking out the words and letters of a poem he had heard so often that he had it memorized: Elegy on the Death andBurial of Cock Robin. At age nine, he read his first novel, which was Jane Eyre. This was a creepy tale for a boy of nine, and Rochester was a mystery, St. John a bore. But the lonely girl in her despair, when something came into her room, and her days of starvation at school, and the terrible first Mrs. Rochester, were never to be forgotten.

He tells how he hated Greek until he discovered Homer. The very sound of the hexameter, that long, inimitable roll of the most various music, was enough to win the heart, even if the words were not understood. But the words proved unexpectedly easy to understand, full as they are of all nobility, all tenderness, all courage, courtesy, and romance…. After once being initiated into the mysteries of Greece by Homer, the work of Greek was no longer tedious.

He summarizes his love of all things Greek by writing, We cannot find any wisdom more wise than that which bids us do what men may and bear what men must. Such are the lessons of the Greeks, of the people who tried all things, in the morning of the world, and who still speak to us of what they tried in words which are the sum of human gaiety and gloom, of grief and triumph, hope and despair. The world, since their day, has but followed in the same round, which only seems new: has only made the same experiments and failed with the same failure, but less gallantly and less gloriously.

“AdventuresAmong Books” was written in 1872 when Lang was still a young man. Near the end of the essay, he writes about how he became interested in folklore and anthropology. Little did he know that his most memorable life’s work would grow out of that interest. The first “Fairy Book” was published in 1889.

Blessings,