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Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day is a book with two settings. It's either a charming, frothy Cinderella-esque fantasy where the eponymous character, teetering on the verge of destitution in 1930s London, sees her life transformed over the course of a single day following an accidental encounter with glamorous nightclub singer Delysia; or a brick-to-the-face of antisemitism, xenophobia, and that weird interwar insistence that what a woman really loves is a man who'll shake her, tell her they're an idiot, and insist that "obviously she needs a little physical correction." Oof. The ratio of froth:yuck was such that I was able to get through the book. But while I've heard so many people recommend this as a much-loved comfort read, I don't think I'll be coming back to it. ( )
Miss Pettigrew, an approaching-middle-age governess, was accustomed to a household of unruly English children. When her employment agency sends her to the wrong address, her life takes an unexpected turn. The alluring nightclub singer, Delysia LaFosse, becomes her new employer, and Miss Pettigrew encounters a kind of glamour that she had only met before at the movies. Over the course of a single day, both women are changed forever.
I got this just as the film had been announced (although I have still to see it). This is the tale of the Miss Pettigrew, a middle aged spinster who is treated to an experience of how the other half live when she is accidentally sent to apply for a job at the wrong address. She is then adopted by beautiful nightclub singer Miss LaFosse and this book covers the 24 hours after her arrival at the flat.
Miss Pettigrew is somewhat out of her depth, being presented with situations that she has no experience of or able to give advice. However, her silence and stoic behaviour make other people make their own decisions (which should had been made years before had they simply had the nerve).
Really this book might only deserve 3.5* but it was the perfect pick-me-up after I finished [b:The Complete Maus|15195|The Complete Maus|Art Spiegelman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327354180l/15195._SX50_.jpg|1658562]!
I love Miss Pettigrew - her impoverished gentility is so familiar from Victorian and Edwardian novels & her awareness that her upbringing has made her out of place in the contemporary world is touching. Her adventure into a less constricted world wouldn't be so funny if it wasn't also so moving.
This "feel good" novel is perfect reading for a cold January. The novel takes place over one day and what a day it is - there's romance, humor, and intrigue. A day of decadence for one who never had anything. ( )
Oplysninger fra den engelske Almen VidenRedigér teksten, så den bliver dansk.
Miss Pettigrew pushed open the door of the employment agency and went in as the clock struck a quarter past nine.
Citater
Oplysninger fra den engelske Almen VidenRedigér teksten, så den bliver dansk.
In a dull, miserable existence her one wild extravagance was her weekly orgy at the cinema, where for over two hours she lived in an enchanted world peopled by beautiful women, handsome heroes, fascinating villains, charming employers, and there were no bullying parents, no appalling offspring to tease, torment, terrify, harry her every waking hour.
What dangerous den of vice had she discovered? She must fly before she lost her virtue. Then her common sense unhappily reminded her that no one, now, would care to deprive her of that possession.
A knock on Miss LaFosse's door heralded adventure. It was not like an ordinary house, where the knocker would be the butcher, or baker or candlestick-maker. A knock on Miss LaFosse's door would mean excitement, drama, a new crisis to be dealt with. Oh, if only for once the Lord would be good and cause some miracle to happen to keep her here, to see for one day how life could be lived, so that for all the rest of her dull, uneventful days, when things grew bad, she could look back in her mind and dwell on the time when for one perfect day, she, Miss Pettigrew, lived.
All these years and she had never had the wicked thrill of powdering her nose. Others had experienced that joy. Never she. And all because she lacked courage. All because she had never thought for herself. Powder, thundered her father the curate, the road to damnation
She was not fifty yet, but some day she would be, with no home, no friends, no husband, no children. She had lived a life of spartan chastity and honour. She would still have no home or memories. Miss LaFosse would reach fifty some day. Suppose she reached it equally without home and friends. What then? How full would her memories be?
A common belief in woollen underwear was a bond to shatter the last barrier of constraint.
'The psychology of silk underclothes has not yet been fully considered,' mused Miss Pettigrew happily.
Miss Pettigrew sat savouring to the full a blissful sense of adventure, of wrongdoing: a dashing feeling of being a little fast: a worldly sense of being in the fashion: a wicked feeling of guilty ecstasy. She enjoyed it. She enjoyed it very much.
'I do often think,' she said cheerfully, 'that the nicest part is the getting ready.'
'Well, I acted the lady,' said Miss LaFosse. 'No lipstick, no legs showing. You know. Aloof and keep your distance. None of the come-hither about me. I saw him next week with a bitch of a woman, all lipstick, legs and lust.'
Sidste ord
Oplysninger fra den engelske Almen VidenRedigér teksten, så den bliver dansk.
'I think,' said Miss Pettigrew, 'I have a beau at last.'
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