Mitfords, pt. 4
Well, I finished reading the third Mitford book, Wigs on the Green. I kept wondering how it would earn that title.
Chapter 12 hinted that the village festival would be graced by inmates from the local madhouse for peers. (The asylum, in the deepest, darkest, most bucolic Cotswolds, is a replica of Westminster … an inspired touch.)
I thought these doddering ex-members of the House of Lords would initiate the fracas; instead, it’s contested by the village’s rival youth factions: Social Unionists (“Union Jackshirts”) and Pacifists.
One roots for the Union Jackshirts.
The fight scene is a jovial and rousing climax. Alas, the book is mean-spirited on the whole; indeed, distressingly personal.
Who writes a novel mocking one’s little sister? (Even if she is gaga for Hitler.)
A cloistered aristocrat, that’s who.
Still, the book’s scorn isn’t directed against the young fascist heroine – or even her reactionary ancestors – so much as against her cynical hangers-on.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
This is Daniel’s last week before his “terrible twos.”
He’s into planets. He plays for hours with softballs, stress balls, and clementines.
Jupiter Planet.
Saturn Planet.
Mars.
Tune (Neptune).
Key (Mercury).
He loves to remove his pants and diaper and streak through the house. We’ve gone back to dressing him in bodysuits, which he can’t take off by himself. We’ve had to buy larger bodysuits to cover his growing frame. He’s less than a head shorter than Samuel.
Chapter 12 hinted that the village festival would be graced by inmates from the local madhouse for peers. (The asylum, in the deepest, darkest, most bucolic Cotswolds, is a replica of Westminster … an inspired touch.)
I thought these doddering ex-members of the House of Lords would initiate the fracas; instead, it’s contested by the village’s rival youth factions: Social Unionists (“Union Jackshirts”) and Pacifists.
One roots for the Union Jackshirts.
The fight scene is a jovial and rousing climax. Alas, the book is mean-spirited on the whole; indeed, distressingly personal.
Who writes a novel mocking one’s little sister? (Even if she is gaga for Hitler.)
A cloistered aristocrat, that’s who.
Still, the book’s scorn isn’t directed against the young fascist heroine – or even her reactionary ancestors – so much as against her cynical hangers-on.
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
This is Daniel’s last week before his “terrible twos.”
He’s into planets. He plays for hours with softballs, stress balls, and clementines.
Jupiter Planet.
Saturn Planet.
Mars.
Tune (Neptune).
Key (Mercury).
He loves to remove his pants and diaper and streak through the house. We’ve gone back to dressing him in bodysuits, which he can’t take off by himself. We’ve had to buy larger bodysuits to cover his growing frame. He’s less than a head shorter than Samuel.