This remarkable authoress, whom I believe was referenced in Lara Prescott's "The Secrets We Kept," is indeed that. Her 1957 novel, "Angel," has the tone and feel of a Victorian novel. It might have well been entitled, "Portrait Of The Authoress As A Narcissistic Bitch," because that is what the title character is--a latter day Veda Pierce, who treats her mother and aunt abominably, goes about her own business, but, unlike Veda, does not turn predatory and land a prison sentence. Only a decaying "Grey Gardens" type estate--or, for that matter, since this is England, a Satis House, a la Miss Havisham. And, like that latter character, "Angel" ends her days in embittered loneliness. The difference is, she doesn't care at all about it.
And yet, for awhile, she is quite the sensation of the day with her cheap attempts at literature, which she extols, and the critics diminish. I wonder if Taylor here is criticizing such novelists of the day, like Taylor Caldwell, or Frances Parkinson Keyes, both of whom I would gobble up in a second; they are such, romantic fun. But don't ever mistake them for "Middlemarch."
"Angel" falls somewhere between the two, leaning more toward Eliot. And what a refresher after attempting Richard Powes' overblown "The Overstory."
Talk this up at your next meeting, girls, with plenty of tea, with cakes and dainties!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I think I will skip this one.
ReplyDeleteHigh Tea, now THAT sounds great!!
ReplyDeleteVictoria,
I am ready for High Tea, if you are!