Gita Presents Rumer Godden

Jacquie's Email Notice

One of my favorite books as a child was Rumer Godden's The Doll's House. In my copy, the 1962 edition with heart-clutchingly lovely illustrations by Tasha Tudor -- a hand-me-down from my sisters -- my mother had highlighted, with a penciled bracket, the following text:

"It is an anxious, sometimes a dangerous thing to be a doll. Dolls cannot choose; they can only be chosen; they cannot "do"; they can only be done by; children who do not understand this often do wrong things, and then the dolls are hurt and abused and lost; and when this happens dolls cannot speak, nor do anything except be hurt and abused and lost. If you have dolls, you should remember that."

At the time, I took this very literally; so much so that I would sit quietly with my dolls seated comfortably around me and only imagine the games I was playing with them for fear of bending a foot or an arm incorrectly, causing pain to my dearest friends. I was deeply affected by the sentiment in this paragraph, but not in the way I imagined my mother, or the author, had intended, for reading it now, I don't believe it is merely a reminder to little kids to keep their rooms tidy. So getting to this week's presentation by Gita on Rumer Godden, I think it will be very interesting to understand this quote more clearly by knowing more about the author and her larger body of work. For me, I have always recalled Rumer Godden fondly as the author of my favorite books when I was little, so I am looking forward to learning more about the woman who could infuse real humanity into the dolls in her stories, while also being the author of Black Narsissus!

The forecast looks perfect for meeting this Wednesday, October 20th in Barbara's garden  at 12:45 pm, when Gita will continue our exploration of Biography. Until then! -- Jacquie

Christine's Minutes

It was perfect autumn weather, sunny, warm enough but not overly, and the air felt brisk, as 12 members of the Literature Club gathered in Barbara Morrow’s lovely backyard, where it feels like the tippy top of Hastings. 

The leaf blower brigades had not received the notice that we were meeting today, and their absence was much appreciated. 

President Fran Greenberg rang the bell at 1:05pm.

The minutes of the previous meeting were read and accepted. Without the treasurer, we assume the balance remains the same. There was further discussion of the choice of a book in honor of Phyllis Frankel; a biography of Eleanor Roosevelt was suggested, but the ultimate decision remains with the library. Fran thanked Barbara for her lovely backyard, the lovely weather, and the delicious refreshments. It was noted that even though it has been decided that in these COVID times hostesses will not be providing lunch, and members will be responsible for their own lunches, all our backyard hostesses have managed to offer beverages and small delicious edibles. The compulsion to provide sustenance seems to be solidly encased in the DNA of Literature Club members.

Gita Padegs’ program was on Rumer Godden. Here is another woman writer we have all heard of, yet barely know, and who turns out to be fascinating, not unlike Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. 

Margaret Rumer Godden was born in 1907, the second of 4 sisters. That fact affected her throughout her life, as she always considered herself the un-pretty one, as compared to her sisters; and all her life she hated her appearance. Her family moved to India, where they had experienced the privileged life of the Anglo-Indians; their family of six had fifteen servants to look after them. Yet the Godden children understand that they lived in an artificially privileged world, and were aware of the suffering that existed all around them. Those early years in India were formative and a great source of material, but at the age of five she was sent to a convent school in England for a ‘proper education’. 

Rumer’s initial career choice was to be a dance teacher, and for this she moved to Calcutta, a city she never much liked. But for twenty years she ran a dance school there. At the age of 27 she married Lawrence Sinclair Foster, because she was pregnant. It was not a happy marriage. One issue that contributed to their incompatibility was Foster’s unwillingness to learn, and lack of interest in, Indian ways and culture. 

While still running her dance school, Rumer wrote and published Black Narcissus. It was a best-seller, and also made into a film starring Deborah Kerr. Rumer wrote a novel almost every year from 1936 onward, generally with the theme of the loss of innocence. She also moved constantly. In 1942 she and her two daughters moved to Kashmir and lived on a houseboat. In 1945 she moved back to Britain. After finally divorcing Foster in 1948, she married James Dixon in 1949. In the 1950’s she became interested in Roman Catholicism, and in 1968 she officially converted. She often wrote sympathetically of nuns and priests.

 

Central to her life were her daughters, Jane and Paula, and her writing. She also worried about money, and supported her parents. And of course, she was passionate about her Pekinese dogs. Rumer published more than sixty books:  novels, memoirs, and children’s’ books. She died at the age of 90. 

Members read from the memoir, A Time to Dance, No Time to Weep, about her time in India. Then from the memoir A House with Four Rooms. Especially enjoyed was Rumer’s hilarious interview with Mrs. Herrington, demonstrating the lengths to which a mother will go in order to get some writing time. 

The meeting ended with a brief discussion of how we shall meet, going forward. There will come a time when outdoor meetings are no longer feasible, so perhaps we can try a hybrid of indoors and Zoom. Clearly, our technological savvy has grown by leaps and bounds since the onset of the pandemic.

Respectfully submitted,

Christine Lehner

Recording secretary

Lori Presents Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

Jacquie's Email Notice

“What a wee little part of a person's life are his acts and his words! His real-life is led in his head, and is known to none but himself. All day long, the mill of his brain is grinding, and his thoughts, not those of other things, are his history. These are his life, and they are not written. Every day would make a whole book of 80,000 words -- 365 books a year. Biographies are but the clothes and buttons of the man -- the biography of the man himself cannot be written.” ― Mark Twain

Hello Literary Ladies!

I believe this year's theme is more open to interpretation than others have been in the past. "The biography of the man himself cannot be written," writes the great Mr. Twain, and I think it will be fascinating to re-visit this quote after our year of exploring Biography is complete. What can we know of a person from their deeds as well as their writings and their art? How can they be understood and, perhaps even, in this era of intense personal scrutiny, be judged?

We shall continue our exploration of this intriguing topic this Wednesday, October 6th at 12:45 pm with Lori's presentation on Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings. As the weather at the moment looks fair, we will be meeting in Joanna's glorious garden. If there is any doubt, please look for Fran's email on the subject by 11 am on Wednesday.

Until then, enjoy the grinding of the mill of your brains, for I know there are wonderful stories being written there! -- Jacquie

Christine's Minutes

On October 6, 2021, ten members of the Literature Club gathered on Joanna Reisman’s lovely stone patio, behind her Revolutionary War-era house. Surrounding us were elegant river birches, also known as black birches or Betula nigra, flaunting their peeling bark. Given that we are post-Covid, or perhaps still mid-Covid, it did not go unnoticed that two of our members (one fifth of the attendees) sported new haircuts. 

President Fran Greenberg rang the bell at 1 pm, and thanked Joanna for her backyard, the good weather, and the liquid refreshments. She also thanked Connie for her delicious plum tart. The minutes of our previous meeting were read and accepted. The treasurer reported that we have $345.52 on hand. It was decided that we would ask Debbie Quinn, the Hastings librarian, to determine the best book to honor our late member, Phyllis Frankel, either a biography about Eleanor Roosevelt or one on American history. 

And then, as if scripted, at the instant our speaker for today, Lori Walsh, was announced, the leaf blowers began their buzzing accompaniment from across the trees. 

Lori’s subject was Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, known to most of us only as the author of a heart-rending childhood classic, The Yearling. We were about to learn how much more there is to MKR. 

It was a review by Dwight Garner in the Times of a new biography of Rawlings, by Ann McCutcheon that intrigued Lori and decided her choice of subject. The reviewer wrote: “It’s a pleasure to meet this cursing, hard-drinking, brilliant, self-destructive, car-wrecking, fun-loving, chain-smoking, alligator-hunting, moonshine-making, food-obsessed woman again on the page”. It was likewise a pleasure for us. 

Marjorie Kinnan was born in Washington DC to Arthur Kinnan and Ida May Traphagen, a frustrated social climber. Her mother’s determination that Marjorie would have success in her stead, and her self-sacrifice all contributed to Marjorie’s future achievements. The mother-daughter relationship was close, and often fractious. Marjorie met her first husband, Charles Rawlings, while working at the literary magazine at the University of Wisconsin. Her mother thought he was not good enough, and she was proved correct. 

But Charles was the one who took the couple to an orange grove in Cross Creek, Florida. While he was off yachting and gallivanting, Marjorie dug in her heels and decided she wanted to write about the region and its characters, the ‘Crackers’ and the Blacks. She took up alligator hunting. She learned understand the local dialect, in which they spoke almost “Chaucerian phrases.” She started writing stories and vignettes about her Florida neighbors. In 1930 she sent 8 sketches to Scribner’s, and they bought one, “Cracker Chitlins”, for $130.  In 1931, the story “Jacob’s Ladder” caught the eye of the famous and fabled editor, Maxwell Perkins. Thus began a 17-year relationship and hundreds of letters. Perkins encouraged her to write about the region she knew so well. Her first novel, South Moon Under, came out in 1933, and was a Book of the Month Club selection. 

Members read selections from Blood of My Blood, a memoir published after her death. It was a scathing indictment of what she called ‘ruthless mother love’. 

We also read from the biography, The Life She Wishes to Live, by Ann McCutcheon.

 

The Yearling was published in 1938 and rocketed to best sellerdom. It won, and deserved, the Pulitzer. It is the moving story of a young boy, Jody Baxter, who adopts an orphaned faun; it is filled with vivid characters, bear hunts, snake bites, and anything else you could possibly want. 

Marjorie’s non-fiction book, Cross Creek, also became a Book-of-the-Month selection, in 1942. In it she described many of the local characters, and not all of them were appreciative of the attention. In 1943 Zelma Cason filed a lawsuit claiming that Rawlings had defamed her – apparently, she objected being described as an “angry and efficient canary”, but at the same time she wanted to participate in the royalties from the book. The case dragged on for 5 years, and in the end, Rawlings was ordered to pay Zelma $1, and court costs. 

Marjorie Kinnan Rawlins died at the age of 57, of a cerebral hemorrhage. She had lived large and vividly; she had two husbands and no children; she was friends with Ernest Hemingway, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Zora Neal Hurston; and she was financially independent. She advocated for preserving the Everglades and for the end of segregation. It was an enormous pleasure to make her acquaintance. 

Respectfully submitted,

Christine Lehner, Recording secretary