I enjoyed reading Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, and so was especially glad to be able to read The Ladies of Grace-Adieu, her book of short stories (apparently her next novel is a ways off).
The stories, (mostly?) all written before the novel, foreshadow the excellent intermingling of dry wit — and surrealism and darkness — that made Strange so popular. Strongly recommended to Strange fans and to all those curious about all the fuss but unwilling to pick up an 800-page tome.
And to give you some idea of what you’re getting into, here are some examples. Clarke’s writing tends to combine finely crafted prose with droll humour, and these extracts demonstrate both.
This extract is from On Lickerish Hill (a retelling of the Tom Tit Tot/Rumpelstiltskin folktale), where the narrator is crying because she has to spin five skeins of flax every night for a month for her husband, on pain of death; and a Pharisee (fairy) appears to ask her why.
So I told him my historie, beginning with the pies (which were so curiouslie small) and ending with the five skeines of flax. “For the truth is, Pharisee,” sayz I, “that my naturall Genius inclines not at all to brewing or baking cakes or spinning or anie of those things, but to Latin, Greeke and the study of Antiquities and I can no more spinne than flie.”
The Pharisee consider’d my Dilemma. “This is what I’ll doe,” it sayz at last. “I’ll come to your windowe ev’ry morning an’ take the flax an’ bring it back spun at night.”
“Oh, a hundred thousand thankes!” sayz I. “‘Tis a very generous turne you doe me. But then, you know, I have alwaies heard that Pharisees doe wonderful kind thinges and never ask for pay of anie sorte or anie thinge in returne.”
“You heerd that, did you?” sayz the little black thinge, a-scritch-scritch-scratching of his armpit. “Well, woman, you heerd wrong.”
“Oh!” sayz I.
The Pharisee look’t at me out of the corners of its little blacke eyes and sayz, I’ll give you three guesses ev’ry night to guess my name an’ if you ain’t guessed it afore the month’s up, Woman, you shall be mine!”
“Well then”, sayz I, “I thinke I shall discover it in a month.”
“You thinke so, doe you?” sayz the Pharisee and laugh’t and twirl’d its taile. “What be the names o’ they old dogges?”
“Oh!” sayz I. “That I doe know. Those dogges are called Plato, Socrates and Euclid. Sir John told me.”
“Noo, they ain’t,” sayz the Pharisee, “One on ‘em’s called Wicked. The other un’s Worse an’ the third’s Worst-of-all. They told me themselves.”
“Oh!” sayz I.
“Happen,” sayz the Pharisee with great satisfaction, “you don’t know yer own name.”
“‘Tis Miranda Sloper,” sayz I. “. . . I meane Sowreston.”
“Woman,” sayz the Pharisee laughing, “You shall be mine.”
This extract is from Tom Brightwind or How the Fairy Bridge Was Built at Thoresby, where Jewish physician David Montefiore is riding to Lincolnshire with his friend, the powerful Fairy Prince Tom Brightwind, who has several grandchildren. And Clarke’s fairies are not quite your cuddly, lovable Peter-Pan-style fairies.
So the horses were fetched from the stables, and David and Tom got on them. They had not gone far before David began.
“Who?” asked Tom, not much interested.
“The Princesses Igraine, Nimue, Elaine and Morgana.”
“Oh! Yes, I sent them to live in . . . What do you call that wood on the far side of Pity-Me? What is the name that you put upon it? No, it escapes me. Anyway, there.”
“But eternal banishment!” cried David in horror. “Those poor girls! How can you bear the thought of them in such torment?”
“I bear it very well, as you see,” said Tom. “But thank you for your concern. To own the truth, I am thankful for any measure that reduces the number of women in my house. David, I tell you, those girls talk constantly. Obviously, I talk a great deal too. But then I am always doing things … So naturally I have a great deal to say. But those girls do nothing. Absolutely nothing! A little embroidery, a few music lessons. Oh! and they read English novels! David! Did you ever look into an English novel? Well, do not trouble yourself. It is nothing but a lot of nonsense about girls with fanciful names getting married.”