Nancy Mitford (1904–1973)

Awful. I know this is very well rated, and it is from vintage books, but this is simply tripe. I am reading the ebook version and hopefully it is a case of bad conversion from print. Having stated that, this version has terrible and nonsensical sentences, bad structure, the tenses do not even agree - and that is just the tip of the iceberg. I am left wondering about Ms. Mitford's education (or more likely lack thereof) and if she was a native English speaker. Yes it is that bad.

Sadly I have several other novels from her here in my tbr, and now am very reluctant to even consider opening them.

1 star. would give this a negative rating if possible. A real shame as the topic is interesting.… (mere)

"‘Oh, don’t pity me. I’ve had eleven months of perfect and unalloyed happiness, very few people can say that, in the course of long long lives, I imagine.’
I imagined so too. Alfred and I are happy, as happy as married people can be. We are in love, we are intellectually and physically suited in every possible way, we rejoice in each other’s company, we have no money troubles and three delightful children. And yet, when I consider my life, day by day, hour by hour, it seems to be composed of a series of pinpricks. Nannies, cooks, the endless drudgery of housekeeping, the nerve-racking noise and boring repetitive conversation of small children (boring in the sense that it bores into one’s very brain), their absolute incapacity to amuse themselves, their sudden and terrifying illnesses, Alfred’s not infrequent bouts of moodiness, his invariable complaints at meals about the pudding, the way he will always use my tooth-paste and will always squeeze the tube in the middle. These are the components of marriage, the wholemeal bread of life, rough, ordinary, but sustaining; Linda had been feeding upon honey-dew, and that is an incomparable diet."

for a while during reading I thought I wasn't really into it then I reached the end and realised it had really taken hold of me without realising. the doings of a bunch of very explicitly aristocratic aristocrats seems designed to turn me off but it's written well with a lot of dry humour. everything is treated with mockery but a sympathetic kind of mockery, one about how silly we can be but how that's how things are and we get on with it and it's ok. if that makes sense. i found the portrayal of communists pretty good on that count - affectionate mockery understanding. a pretty enjoyable book that i think will be a grower on my imagination over time

one thing that really bothers me: what's the french guy's final written message say? it's just said that it's unreadable but there's no hint at all given of what it might be supposed to say or anything. maybe i missed an obvious joke or something.

oh one big problem is it uses a good amount of untranslated French you can generally get the gist but it kind of sucks… (mere)