rebecca.

I missed most of Christmas because of this book. I struggled to stop reading. I lay in bed while my family talked and my neck got twisty and raged at me to stop – but still I read on.

It my housemate, Kathryn’s, possiblyfavourite book. She spent a long time hunting for the perfect cover of ‘Rebecca’ and I began to keep an eye out, too. (Book hunts are the best – I join them whenever I can. They give you every reason to stroll into a bookstore with purpose and a vague but rewarding sense of ambition.)

Tessa lent me her copy. Tessa doesn’t particularly like this book because the nameless heroine is so incredibly pathetic and since it is written in the first person, you get the full extent of her insecurity and feminine frailty. However, our protagonist has the most brilliantly odd imagination and also she wrote the book – so she must be slightly interesting. (When Tess heard my defense, she scoffed and responded, ‘No. It was Daphne du Maurier who wrote the book.” Which is true – but not the point.)

I understand perfectly why it is one of Kathryn’s favourites. I also understand why Tessa can’t stand it. I understand both of these partly because I know my friends very well. But also because it’s that sort of book. Clever, nauseating, very dated but always a classic.

It is gross and engrossing. 

It’s wonderful.

Our nameless narrator tells her sinister tale of falling in love with the wealthiest widower you’ve ever met. He is at least 20 years older than her. But he marries her neatly and brings her back to his massive mansion where they have servants and tea. His previous wife (who drowned) is Rebecca and she was beautiful and everyone loved her (maybe a bit too much) and the new little wifey feels she will forever exist in Rebecca’s glorious shadow, haunted by the perfect previous mistress.

There is a constant underlying creepiness throughout, aided by the ominous and (I think) semi-insane housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers. There is a lot of horticultural magnificence that goes on in this book. The weather and trees and plants are overwhelming.

Of course it sorts itself out. The end drags on a bit, but our heroine finally grows into herself and seems to mature. By ‘mature’ I mean she eventually becomes brave enough to boss the servants around and is no longer afraid of them. It takes a while, but she finally realizes she is in fact good enough to be an upper class snob. I sincerely mean it when I say, Good for Her!

But I thoroughly enjoyed despite seriously weird gendered and classist ongoings. Like any good British book, there is a lot of food and a faithful dog. Books with food are always good at Christmas.

the dispossessed.

Last night I finished Ursula Le Guin's classic novel of science fiction, 'The Dispossessed'. Whenever I finish one of Ursula Le Guin's novel, (oh! it is a glorious thing to write that name let alone say it aloud... by far the best science fiction author's name I have ever come across ever). Yes.

Whenever I finish one of Ursula Le Guin's (eeh!) novels, I am always slightly less than satisfied. Partly due to quiet shock that it's actually over. And partly because I think when your stories are that good and that epic and your name is Ursula Le Guin, you just have to choose a place to stop. And wherever you stop, it will always be a bit sad. (This is why, I think, Tolkien insisted on all those appendixes and whatnots).

'The Dispossessed' takes place in the same universe as the one in 'The Left Hand of Darkness', another book by Le Guin that is possibly my Favourite Science Fiction Book Ever. I have not written about it yet, which is bizarre. I talk about it a lot though. Anyway, 'The Dispossessed' takes place on an entirely different planet, actually, two planets. The plot bounces between happenings on the twin planets of Anarres and Urras.

Urras is not unlike our own world, capitalism and hierarchy and commerce and etc. On Urras, the evil 1% thrive pleasantly while most of the rest of the population slug away in poverty. (This is a crude, inaccurate summary but you get the picture). But 150 years before, a group of Anarchist revolutionaries, following the writings and philosophies of the female anarchist, Odo, leave Urras and colonize the twin planet of Anarres. Beginning an entirely new society based mutual aid, common humanity and an absolute lack of a single ruling power. All inhabitants are equal, free to do as they please and function in an absolute socialist volunteer type utopia that is not without its own problems but ultimately a very attractive society. Lots of clever and thought provoking stuff on politics, philosophy, humans, science, and all things interesting.

A young physicist, our protagonist, seeks to unite these two worlds and of course, fails. But it's still a really really really good book. I Googled it a bit and yes, it's a very clever book, that many other people (with important letters attached to the end of their names) have written books and essays about.

The problem with writing about science fiction is that unless someone has read the same book, you always sound like a bit of a tool or like someone who has entirely poor taste in literature. Because the author has spent a lot of time thinking up an entire universe. They have written a whole book describing the subtleties of the people, the language, the culture. Everything is set up very cleverly and you get drawn into a perfectly legitimate idea. But when you try and talk about said book to another, you sound bizarre. Unless you strapped your listener to a chair and talked for a very very long time explaining how the whole planet works, and who's who and what's what until your listener implodes from absolute boredom, they won't really understand what makes the book so incredibly good.

Which is why no one likes science fiction, except the people who read science fiction.

So I suggest you read it, so I don't have to strap you to a chair and bore you to death. If you want the first Thirteen Chapters, it's in the Anarchist Library: http://theanarchistlibrary.org/library/ursula-k-le-guin-the-dispossessed