The lane that led from Big Village to Little Village was an enchanting place at half-past five on an April morning. The thick high hedges of sloe and briar and hawthorn, blown all one way by the wind from the sea, so that the seaward hedges tossed long sprays of emerald green leaves like foam across the lane, were bright and sparkling with sunshot raindrops, and nestling in the shelter of them were celandines and speedwells that were still asleep. Through gaps in the hedge they could see the east still barred with gold, and the sky curving up through lovely gradations of colour that ended over their heads in a clear deep blue that was reflected on the earth below, by the pools in the lane and the polished surfaces of the wet green leaves, as though the depth of the firmament was something the earth must at all costs reach up and catch hold of. The light was the strange light of dawn, cool and bright yet deep and warm, the light of the sun and the moon and the stars mingling together for a moment as the dominion of the one yielded to the rule of the other.
There were numbers of birds already, little ones that sang praises madly in the hedges and big ones that moved in long lines against the golden east, flying from north to south in slow rhythmical ecstasy. Some of them were black and some were white. “Crows and gulls,” said Lucilla, “and they fly like that because they are so happy that the sun has risen. They can’t sing like the little birds and so they have to praise God with the movement of their wings.”
Why you should read Elizabeth Goudge’s Torminsterbooks for Advent and Christmastide:
Wonderful atmospheric depiction of a small Cathedral town in the beginning of the 20th century, partly inspired by the authors own childhood; (Torminster is technically Wells, Somerset)
the first book is a very soft and gentle adult novel, about all kinds of love, redemption, and the way literature and art can bring people together;
the sequels are two children’s novellas about a wonderful girl named Henrietta, who is already an important character in the first book, and who will grow up to be a great painter;
one sequel is set at Christmas and has a wonderful message, the other is set at high summer, but so magical it still feels right for this season;
the first book is set over the span of more than one year, and has absolutely gorgeous Christmas chapters;
the prose is lovely and evocative, the descriptions full of detail, the wide cast of characters endearing, and the various relationships and kinds of love (romantic, platonic, familial, and more than that) simply beautiful;
it is a book about art, artists, and the appreciation of art and its value: there is a bookshop, a poet, an actress, a very imaginative child, but there are also depictions of numerous other ways people use their creative ability as a means to communicate and to enrich but also understand the world around us;
the setting is lovely, a tiny town within a lovely landscape, and within the town the microcosm of the Cathedral Close;
soft, cosy, warm; lots of tea and treats, and Little Things;
there is a dog called Mixed Biscuits: “Front elevation collie, rear elevation pomeranian. The man I bought him from said he was a spaniel, but I think myself that there’s a dash of dachshund about the legs.” And there are even more dogs in the sequel: Keeper and Mee-Too.
All three books were very rare and usually out of print for a long while, especially the two sequels, but are currently in print or at least widely available. A City of Bells is the first book, and originally a stand-alone; Sister of the Angels was published before Henrietta’s House (published in the US as The Blue Hills), but is set later. The first is an adult novel, but suitable for all ages, if it should interest a younger reader, whereas the other two are children’s books of the kind that are just as appealing for adult readers. All books are ideally read together, but all of them can be read separately.
As in all of Goudge’s books, there are themes of religion and spirituality, mental illness and disability, and societal values and problems, but they are a bit gentler than in her other books – certainly there, but lighter, as the focus is rather on art and the individual, making them very soft and gentle, but nonetheless thoughtful reads for the season.
Goudge has a great gift of evoking a sense of time and place, so one does feelthe town and also its seasons and celebrations very much when reading. Places in Goudge novels are very much characters on their own, and Torminster, the bookshop, the blue hills, and especially the Cathedral are very tangible, and in a way, also very independent. They are not fantasy books (except, maybe, Henrietta’s House) but they do have more than just a touch of magic.
Read if you like books about books and booklovers, the language of art, orphans finding loving homes, cute dogs, eccentric townsfolk, detailed descriptions of places and festivities and food, and very gentle romantic sub-plots. (As well as old novels that fit very vaguely into a dark academia or cottagecore aesthetic, if that’s the sort of thing you’re looking for.)
Read them especiallyif you love (or maybe need) a story about unusual relationships, platonic love and romantic friendship, second chances and redemption, hope and healing, compassion and forgiveness, everyday mysteries and the magic of the ordinary, the extraordinary effects of human kindness, and the beauty of hard, yet right choices.
A selection of first and last sentences of Elizabeth Goudge novels
Linnets and Valerians
First:Robert gave the storeroom door a resounding kick, merely for his own satisfaction for he knew that only the kick of a giant would have made any impression on its strong oak panels, and sat down cross-legged on the floor to consider the situation.
Last:Uncle Ambrose also visited him and the greatest pride and joy of his old age was to walk down the Oxford High Street arm in arm with his brilliant nephew, with Hector, who appeared to be gifted with eternal life, sitting proud and erect upon his shoulder.
The Dean’s Watch
First:The candle flame burned behind the glass globe of water, its light flooding over Isaac Peabody’s hands as he sat at work on a high stool before his littered worktable.
Last:Isaac walked out into the sunshine and said to himself, “I shall make the celestial clock again. I shall make it for Mrs. Ayscough.”
The Rosemary Tree
First:Harriet at her window watched the gulls with delight.
Last:“Then it’s an odd thing you thought yourself alone,” said Harriet.
Green Dolphin Country
First:Sophie Le Patourel was reading aloud to her two daughters from the Book of Ruth, as they lay upon their backboards digesting their dinners and improving their deportment.
Last:“Oh, my!” ejaculated Old Nick in mocking tones. And then, very doubtfully indeed, “Oh, my?”
The Bird in the Tree (The Eliots of Damerosehay, no. 1)
First:Visitors to Damerosehay, had they but known it, could have told just how much the children liked them by the particular spot at which they were met upon arrival.
Last: “It’s true,” he thought. “The spirit of man has wings.”
The Herb of Grace (The Eliots of Damerosehay, no. 2)
First:The sun shining through the uncurtained east window woke Sally to a new day.
Last:But the sap rose from inexhaustible depths, and the spring would come again.
The Heart of the Family (The Eliots of Damerosehay, no. 3)
First:Meg, wearing mackintosh boots and a red mackintosh, and with a red sou’wester tied beneath her chin, splashed down the drive, and under the dripping oak-trees, in a state of happiness deeper and more perfect than any other she was likely to know while she lived in this world.
Last:The old house seemed to hold them both, and to hold, too, a welling up of freshness, as though it renewed its youth in the youth of this marvelous child.
Gentian Hill
First:On a clear August evening, borne upon the light breath of a fair wind, the fleet was entering Torbay.
Last:It was eight o’clock, and in a world at peace, they had come home.
Towers in the Mist
First:The first gray of dawn stole mysteriously into a dark world, so gradually that it did not seem as though day banished night, it seemed rather that night itself was slowly transfigured into something fresh and new.
Last:“God bless you and increase your sons in number, holiness and virtue. Farewell, Oxford, Farewell. Farewell.”
The Little White Horse
First:The carriage gave another lurch, and Maria Merryweather, Miss Heliotrope, and Wiggins once more fell into each other’s arms, sighed, gasped, righted themselves, and fixed their attention upon those objects which were for each of them at this trying moment the source of courage and strength.
Last: He would come towards her and she would run towards him, and he would carry her upon his back away and away, she did not quite know where, but to a good place, a place where she wanted to be.
A City of Bells (Torminster, no. 1)
First: Jocelyn Irvin, sitting in a corner seat in a third-class railway-carriage and watching the green and gold of England in the spring slip past the windows, meditated gloomily upon Life with a capital L.
Last: He was a magic man, a fairy-tale man, and it seemed to her quite natural that he should have got lost, for fairy-tale people are always easily mislaid, but warm inside her was the certainty that now at last he was found for good.
Henrietta’s House (Torminster, no. 2)
First:Once upon a time there was a railway station waiting for a train.
Last:So this is the end of the story of Henrietta’s house, and even though it is not strictly speaking a fairy tale – because except for the possible exception of the disappearance of the motor car nothing out of the ordinary happened on Hugh Anthony’s birthday – it can be turned into one by saying that everybody lived happily ever after.
Sister of the Angels (Torminster, no. 3)
First:The moment she woke up Henrietta was conscious that she was happy, unusually, deliciously happy.
Last:Nine o’clock struck and, as always at the conclusion of the carol service, the Christmas bells began to ring.
Well a 48 hour power outage in a snow storm has made me very productive with my reading.
I finished The Little White horse by Elizabeth Goudge. I watched and loved the movie as a kid and I can say they mauled the movie and the book was better. Despite the fact that she ends up marrying her cousin and having ten kids, it was an enjoyable kids book.
I also finished the Fellowship of the Ring and started Two Towers. It was wonderful as always
I started reading Pride and Prejudice but it was late, I had no light and that print is VERY small for such convoluted grammar, so I didn’t get very far.
I’m hoping to read more classics this year that I’ve been wanting to read for ages. So far I’ve got a strong start on 2020! I don’t read as much as most “readers” do but I don’t want to pressure myself and just read when I feel like it and read what I want.
