Dear Off-Topic Readers,
Well, hot on the heels of reading Abi Daré’s brilliant The Girl With the Louding Voice (discussed at greater length here), which features a noxious character called Big Madam, whose real name happens to be Florence, I found myself unexpectedly reading another novel with a Florence in it (you may only be able to appreciate the weird magnitude of this if you also happen to have a name that was at its height of popularity in 1902). This time, Florence is the middle child in Joanna Quinn’s The Whalebone Theatre, although she’s referred to as The Veg in her younger years, due to resembling a vegetable as a baby (there is no end to the indignity that sticks to this name. She later graduates to Flossie as a young teenager, but never embraces the name in its fullest form).
Anyway, fictional Florences aside, I picked out The Whalebone Theatre purely on the basis of its gorgeous title. I can’t remember now if it was the collection of words that I liked, or the image they convey, perhaps helped by the cover. But either way, I chose it without reading the synopsis and forgetting that I haven’t previously enjoyed books set around theatre1. But actually, that’s a relatively small part of the book, so all was well :)
The first part of the story takes place during the interwar years, and revolves around a wealthy bohemian family who live on a huge crumbling country estate close to the Dorset coast. The title is set when Christabel, the eldest child, finds a beached whale and claims it for the family, its remains eventually becoming a stage for their performances. The adults are mostly feckless2 and, for me, this part carries on a little too long (the unreality of their existence has its own element of theatre). But right from the start I was rooting for the three children and I found it all becomes more compelling once they’re adults and the story shifts to follow their paths through WWII. It’s especially good on music, and the scenes with Flossie at the piano were my absolute favourites (they were few, but stood out as a highlight). I also thought the relationships that didn't conform to the norms of the time were really well done, too. Note that it’s a semi-whopper at 560 pages, just in case you’re considering reads to tuck inside a suitcase. The ending left me a little flat, but in some ways that didn’t seem entirely inappropriate in the context of the story, which comes to a close at the end of the war. 3.5/5 ⭐️
I’m reading a couple of interesting things at the moment, but they link in with other things that I’d want to share with you at the same time, and somehow I just feel like I’ve run out of words for this week3, so I’ll save those things up for another time. But until then, a poem by Michelle Bitting, sent to me by my mum for the wonderful lines:
“…and you out there in the hushed cool of your reserved seat,
hands folded, resting now, the little bobbin of your heart
spinning inside its quiet nook while you watched me…”
Do read the whole thing to get the context around it. But this, exactly this - such a glorious analogy for maternal love. I thought you might like it too.
With love, thanks for reading, and wishing you a happy end to the weekend,
Florence x
Ps. Several years ago, I rewatched The Railway Children with my own children, having played it so many times as a child that the VHS tape had started to go fuzzy in places. Anyway, it’s currently being re-released…but what’s really exciting is the reason for this is because there’s going to be a sequel featuring Jenny Agutter forty years on. I think there’s a real bravery in revisiting a classic like this and imagine you’d only attempt it if you were pretty sure you could pull it off, so I cannot wait to see it :)
I struggled with Elizabeth Gilbert’s City of Girls for this reason. I think maybe you’re either a theatre person or you’re not. For me, a book seems to ask for my full visual imagination; a film does all the imagining for me; while theatre sits somewhere between the two, asking me to imagine away the stage but to conjure up more than what’s there…and somehow that feels like less of a natural thing for me. I’m aware that’s a lacking on my part rather than Theatre’s though. And it doesn’t stop me from desperately wanting to see To Kill a Mocking Bird, which is currently on at London’s Gielgud theatre. And also, my friend Rochelle recently told me that the universally-adored (she is my favourite actor ever) Nicola Walker is on stage in The Corn is Green and that has huge appeal too. So basically, I do like some theatre, but would probably not write that I have a GSOH and love theatre, meat, and heights were I reducing myself down to my constituent parts. (Actually, I’ve just asked my son and husband if I do have a GSOH and both said yes - very happy! My husband also asked if I was writing a dating profile for myself. On the basis of his pleasing answer, I’d say not (although I would have liked it even more if he’d delivered it with greater conviction).
I don’t think I’ve ever actually used this word not in jest before…it sounds so thoroughly teacherly* and disapproving, doesn’t it. * Of the rapping across the knuckles variety. Not the nice kind. Actually, it sounds exactly like something the teacher in P’tang Yang Kipperbang would say - she was awful, but did (gloriously) call 14-year-old Duckworth a ‘lolloper’, and a ‘beast of the field’. This was another film I watched with my sister repeatedly when we were growing up.
Does anyone else feel they have a finite amount of words to be spent in any given period of time? So if you use up lots of them talking out loud, then there are just fewer left over for texts/emails/social media posts/newsletters etc. Almost as though it’s a natural filtering system so that the world doesn’t end up with too much Florence in it and so that I don’t end up with too little of myself left behind. Last week was a delicious social whirl (which sounds like a 1980s ice-cream, possibly with a ball of bubblegum in the bottom), but going out four evenings in seven would have been extraordinary for me pre-pandemic…now, it’s like standing on the central reservation of a motorway and having my head spun around. Although also completely lovely…so that analogy doesn’t really work. But you get the idea.
Absolutely know exactly what you mean about a finite amount of words in one given period. In fact a friend of my daughter used to say she had run out of Social Tokens when she had exhausted all her witty banter and needed to retire for a recharge! This is now our ‘go to’ expression.
I absolutely agree Florence that there are a finite amount of words available! I'm so glad that you found enough for this newsletter 😊 I hope you left enough for yourself. Nicola Walker is also my favourite actor. I haven't seen many of her TV programs, but have loved what I have seen.
This week I'm reading Anxious People by Fredrik Backman...always a joy to read his books😊
Have a lovely week