I have previously made some other, nature-inspired Penguin Classic Covers for a selection of Elizabeth Goudge’s most-beloved novels, and decided to make another round, just for the Eliot Chronicles, which were also among the earlier set. This one is, however, inspired by art.
Elizabeth Goudge is one of my favourite writers. She’s frightfully underread, but much appreciated and cherished by those who are familiar with her books. Some publishing houses have, in the last few years, published very pretty new editions of her books, which fortunately introduce her to a modern audience—including me.
However, I thought it would be fun to create Penguin Classics Covers for some of her novels. They are classics to me.
I have actually come to realise that I have a very soft spot, fondness even, for George Eliot. From the Damerosehay books, I mean. It’s funny, it came up to me when I thought about literary characters I personally fancy (yes, what a deep and important topic) and when I thought about how brilliant all the positive romantic relationships (as in, the ones that actually make it work together) in Elizabeth Goudge’s books are all absolutely wonderful and I love them very much, I came to think of how I feel for the men outside their wonderful relationships in the books, and despite my great love for Jocelyn and David in particular, I actually realised that, long story made short, I am very fond of George Eliot.
I mean, I often said that all of Elizabeth Goudge’s characters are real people, very real and very much alive, and I still say so, but George is, despite his real-ness, a character whose place is mostly in the background of the narrative, and of whose own story, out of Nadine’s personal character arc, we don’t see very much. And you see, I like Nadine actually a lot. She’s a very complex and interesting character, and I love her growth, and I love how she worked her way against her own disposition in a way that actually makes me like her much more than, to name someone in a similar position as her, mentally, Lucilla herself, whom I actually view rather (very) critically, even though of course she’s important in her way.
And I see what her feelings for George, and the way she handled them, and… grew them, worked on them, mean in that context, and I understand George as the technically for a long time unwanted and unloved, generally oblivious and uncomplicated, old and boring husband. I understand how coming to build her new relationship means a lot to Nadine’s story, and I love the way she found her own true happiness in the way she did (without going into much detail here).
But most of what we see of him is either from the eyes of his children, who love him, but also see him mostly as a comforting and kind and otherwise not too interesting, well, father, and his mother and wife who both often look down on him in a sort of loving way, and he is mostly described as a man without much depth (e.g. his religious and political views). George doesn’t have that sort of romantic storyline some of the others have, in fact, all there is is just happening on Nadine’s side of the story.
So, he’s not the obvious character to even care about much. But I noticed I do, much more in retrospect than while reading. It’s funny how he is technically the stereotypically “desirable match” (wealthy, good military rank, one of the “beautiful” Eliots, etc.) his position is more or less that of an undesirable man—boring, bland, conventional, and of little emotional depth.
But he is so kind. There is such a certain air of warmth and safety about him. In the scenes he appears in there is always a certain calmness. The twins, despite not really caring for anyone, are extremely attached to him simply because of that specific aura. Lucilla made very clear that he was a very sensitive child. Nadine once really felt attracted to him, and despite all that made her lose interest in him, she always felt drawn near to him again, and despite not really wanting him for a long time, she never seemed to feel one bit uncomfortable with him, it was just that he couldn’t give her specifically what she wanted, but that’s an entirely different thing. Caroline practically shaped her world around him. Every relation and friend and acquaintance trusted him unconditionally, even if they didn’t really like him or take him seriously.
And there’s another thing—many parts are from the point of view of Hilary and Margaret, and so we know how deeply they think and feel. Even though most other characters seem not to expect that of them. I’m actually sure that it’s similar with George, it’s just that the reader sees little more of his inner life than the other characters.
But I got extremely off topic here, I didn’t actually want to write so much about him. All I wanted to say is that I think is that he, as himself, taking the specific storyline of his and Nadine’s marriage all aside, a very lovely husband. Not only as a nice and rather convenient, boring man. No, it’d be actually lovely to have him as a husband, just as he is. As himself I mean. Simply from the perspective of the reader (in this case, me) and not in the specific context of the books.
It’s late July, and most of this summer was, and will—and should—be spent at home. Fortunately, reading books is a fabulous way to let one’s imagination wander a bit further, and I thought I’d like to make a list of ten lovely summer reads. That is…ten or so, since I don’t keep strictly to stand-alones.
The Eliots of Damerosehay: The Bird in the Tree, The Herb of Grace—aka Pilgrim’s Inn—and The Heart of the Family by Elizabeth Goudge
A beautiful trilogy, although the second book can be (and often is) read as a stand-alone. The books take place over all seasons, and the second ends with a particularly glorious Christmas celebration, but there is an air of summer about them, throughout them; captivating and uplifting, they make wonderful companions for long days with misty mornings and sunny evenings.
(And as for Elizabeth Goudge, one of her Torminster books, called Henrietta’s House, is a pure high-summer-read, a delightful little gem for all ages.)
Over Sea, Under Stone by Susan Cooper, the first in The Dark is Rising Sequence
The only one that could be regarded as a beach read, being set during the summer holidays in Cornwall. But it’s an adventure, not only for children, that will make one feel instantly at home in the story, and the village of Trewissick. It’s also the first in a series of five, followed by winter in Buckinghamshire, spring in Cornwall, autumn in Wales, and finally, summer again, this time in Wales. A perfect blend of myths and nature.
Summer Lightning, a Blandings novel by P. G. Wodehouse
Wodehouse is a promise of hilarity, and his Blandings novels are particularly charming. This one in particular is pure bliss—false identities, tangled-up romances, scandalous memoirs, and prize-winning pigs are all one needs for lighter, but very intelligent reading. It doesn’t matter if you’ve read any other Blandings novel before, as it stands really well on its own, and it’s really great fun from start to finish.
Brideshead Revisited: The Sacred and Profane Memories of Captain Charles Ryder by Evelyn Waugh
In some ways an autumnal read, though of course no book is strictly bound to any seasons, and it is in its tone and theme similar to the aforementioned Eliot chronicles, which also feature the colder seasons very much, and yet draw much from summer. And Brideshead, you see, the book, and the Castle, have an air of summer about them, the first part in particular, the fruit always ripe…a warm breeze that returns with the final twitch upon the thread at the end of that glorious book.
The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C. S. Lewis, the third, or fifth, of The Chronicles of Narnia
If you’ve been to Narnia before, and now wondering what book to read, you might consider to return for a while, and why not on such a beautiful ship? But in case you’ve never been to Narnia before, then let me assure you that the first time has an incredibly loveliness. No matter if you’ll start with The Magician’s Nephew—a lovely summer read by itself; and my favourite book in the world, or with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe—a wonderful classic, perfect for summer as much as for Christmas—you will soon enough find yourself on deck of the Dawn Treader.
Miss Buncle’s Book by D. E. Stevenson
A novel about a woman who wrote a novel about a woman who wrote a novel…or something of that sort. A hilarious account of small town life, whimsical characters, and an endearing woman who is convinced that she’s got no imagination, and yet writes a bestseller which causes all sort of agitation. Miss Buncle’s Book can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s actually the first of a lovely trilogy, being followed by Miss Buncle Married and The Two Mrs Abbotts—and technically also the vaguely related The Four Graces. All of them make wonderfully light-hearted, yet intelligent entertainment. And it’s got one of the loveliest proposals I’ve ever read.
Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery
A classic tale, beloved by readers of all ages. Perfectly appropriate for summer as much as any season, with nature seen through Anne Shirley’s large grey eyes, translated into Lucy Maud Montgomery’s beautiful prose. No matter if you’re revisiting, or taking your first glimpse at Green Gables and Avonlea, you are sure to be enchanted by an imaginative, spirited girl with red hair, and her dream world on Prince Edward Island.
The Corinthian by Georgette Heyer
A perfectly silly romance novel, and a perfectly sweet adventure. Georgette Heyer means fun, and this tale of two people—a man strongly suspected of being a dandy, and the sweetest polly oliver—who travel the country together to avoid having their upcoming and unwanted marriages. Their journey is interrupted by nuisances such as theft, murder, and annoying acquaintances, and in the end, they both find that they have fallen in love with someone unexpected—that is, unexpected to them, though not to the reader.
Charmed Life by Diana Wynne Jones
The first Chrestomanci novel, and though one might argue that The Magicians of Caprona is an even sunnier read, and just as recommended for sure, it is, in my opinion, inherently summer-y. There’s castles and gardens and berries and tea and no school (though class, of course, but it’s magical and much better than school, and Cat doesn’t have to write with his right hand) and scrumping apples, and colourful dressing gowns, and even a dragon, so you see, one’s got to read it.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare
Technically not a book, but one can read it very well, and it naturally belongs in the summer. Madness and magic, love and lust, a good deal of humour, and beautiful language, all in a delightfully quick read. It’s always great fun, and a good place to start for those who are curious, but reluctant about reading Shakespeare. And even if one doesn’t get to see it on stage, it does let one’s imagination wander and conjure up enchanting pictures.
And remember: drink a lot of water, eat lots of fresh fruit, stay at home if you can, and always put on a mask in public.