The Viceroy's Daughters: The Lives of the Curzon Sister; by Anne De Courcy.

After reading Sheila by Robert Wainwright and then Daughter of the Empire by Pamela Hicks about her life as a Mountbatten, this one is more about life of the upper caste set in England, with a lot of same names and the same general lives of theirs in that era, of parties ad cruises and affairs and so on, especially when it came to heiresses and other rich women - household and children concerns were taken care of by professionals, with little personal contact generally between parents and children, and adults who did not have enough to occupy them being on the whole wasted leading lives of trying to find pleasure and excitement, and so on. This waste of life wasn't limited to women, one way or another - men were often just as wasted, as exemplified by more than one character in the society described in the three books. Thus Sheila's first husband, Lord Loughborough, wasted his life in gambling and so forth, while others described in this book or the other two conducted affairs and did little else that could be construed positive so as to set off against the negatives.

But this book goes more into details of the personal lives, problems, details of relationships and unhappy lives, not only of daughters of Lord Curzon but generally of the whole set, and makes one even more disillusioned with any thought of money bringing happiness by setting one free of cares and worries. What's more, it goes further, to bring one to despise several characters central and peripheral - beginning with Curzon who stole his daughters' money, especially the eldest one Irene, and then severed relationship with her when she eventually demanded probity of accounts, and all this not because he wished to save them from spending at young age and so forth, but sheer selfishness to the point well beyond theft. He gave much of their inheritance away, including the personal jewellery willed by their mother, and the monies from their mother's father, to his second wife, only to be cheated in almost every way - she not only had another lover, but managed to avoid him most of their married life, by travelling to another place wherever he happened to be, and writing to the effect that while she missed him the children were happier in the other place.

Not that she didn't repeat his mistakes at that - having taken the girls' inheritance, and kept most of the houses and castles Curzon kept buying with their money, after his death she gambled it away by heeding her lover's inclinations, and was reduced to economies too!

And this pattern, of the virtuous coming to grief and being ill treated by those that are not so virtuous, repeats in the lives of the daughters too - Irene leads and independent life and uses much of her life for works of charity, and takes up caring for the children of her sisters, while the youngest one goes about merrily with several love affairs conducted simultaneously with various members of their set of society of aristocracy and glitterati and so forth, and is not just thankless to the elder one but positively abominably rude, over years - and this is indeed inexplicable except when one realises that it is based on the caste system imposed on (and accepted by most) women, that of married and young and sexy being always the ones that get away with any despicable behaviour while those not married are used, looked down on and treated abominably.

Divorce being seen as taboo in such social system where affairs conducted discreetly are seen as norm, and by discreet it doesn't mean secret and unknown but not seen explicitly in public, is about as hypocritical as impeachment of a president of US for an affair, or the muck thrown at Charlie Chaplin for that matter for an allegation of a child out of wedlock. Still, this was the way they lived then, and perhaps a lot many societies still do too - Princess Diana was after all denied the HRH title post her divorce, while the replacement merely has a lesser than Wales title.

This being the state of west, one can only set the graph of other social systems as amount of distance they keep from stoning of those women that are independent, wear clothes not prescribed by the particular region or not necessarily hold every male as one to simper and kowtow to. Most societies, such independence and daring to hold oneself human on par brings a woman brickbats from men and women alike, not all but most, unless she happens to be of what is perceived as "upper" strata, by power and wealth and race.

And Irenes of this world die lonely.
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The real shocker to those unfamiliar with the facts before reading is about Mosley - and about how close the social set skirted to fascism, despite knowing it won't do, not in England. Even in personal life he is one of the most unsavoury characters and one wonders how and why people put up with such conduct, his using his wife so ill and even apart from affairs galore, being a wolf in the sense of hunting women for the sake of power, and being a true successor to Curzon in stealing the money in that he uses homes and money paid for by his wife's fortune for his purposes, plans to deprive his children and insists his sister in law pays for the home his children live in! And yet, even post several instances of his misbehaviour, his paramour and the younger sister in law uses her influence with various males to get him a better deal with his imprisonment, even getting him free!
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But for Irene this book would leave a reader completely disgusted, and her having to play subservient to Mosley or Alexandra Metcalfe despite their ill treating their very loving and nice partners does not leave a good taste either.
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Daughter of Empire: My Life as a Mountbatten; by Pamela Hicks.

Having just finished Sheila by Robert Wainwright, this comes as a pleasant surprise, unexpected because one would think British upper caste is all about stiff upper lips, reticence, et al - and who is more upper caste than descendants of Queen Victoria? And Wainwright was all so very correct and reticent, which while being entirely proper was a bit tiresome, since the life he described of the rich and aristocrats of England and related parts of the world - which encompassed half the globe, at that, what with British empire and Europe, and US glitterati too, seemed all about partying and so forth.

But this one is very different in texture while still being entirely proper too, very readable and very enjoyable. So if Pamela Mountbattern did not have help of a professional shadow writer to trim this, at the very least, then she was remarkably good at writing, which is not as surprising if not famous, what with her descriptions of how intelligent and active her mother was, even apart from the royal family regimen of active life.

One of the positively reassuring little factors in this book is the conclusion of the daughter about her mother's relationship with Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru being entirely within the intellectual sphere and platonic, which might have had strong affection and attachment but not a physical intimacy component, and definitely not more than what is decently admissible in public. This is believable not only due to her reasoning - they were always surrounded by people and had no possibility of privacy - but also due to her candid descriptions of her parents conducting their separate lives and travelling with or being visited by their respective paramours as a part of extended family, and their acceptance of one another's privacy and needs. And while from another "white" source such an assertion of a relationship being non physical might make one wonder if this was for a different reason, on reading this book one generally must conclude this wasn't so. Mountbattens as family did not support racism and reacted emotionally disapprovingly to such expressions in their hearing, according to Pamela Mountbatten - and her father understood the need and value of Nehru in his wife's life and found it freeing him from worrying about her, too.

Several times in reading this one breaks into smiles or chuckles or more, for instance the stories about the various exotic pets from various corners of the world they brought home as gifts or by choice, or about the family stories related to various cousins, which included the royals, not only of England either but of most of Europe. Pamela's grandmother talking about Willie casually, and her explaining when the mystified would be new member (fiancé of the elder sister Patricia Mountbatten) asked who Willie was, that it was "the Kaiser of course", is just one such fun little story.

The Bell Jar; by Sylvia Plath.

Not an easy read, especially post the New York part, and even in that, but perhaps one needs to be a bit familiar with social fabric of US and history thereof, where women at this period of time had not quite achieved parity (not that they have now, it is a curve sometimes closer to the asymptote and then again slashed back viciously by corporate interests), and while they were able to attend college and thereby expected to do brilliantly and also confirm to stereotype expectations anyway, but were often treated somewhere between callously and viciously, as indeed in most places with Judaic and especially church of Rome dominated or worse, that of complete veil or stoning to death cultures.

This book was probably one of the first to bring home to most people the fact that a woman could not only think but do so in a very erudite, complex, sophisticated way, and yet have sensitivity and more. Most works moreover dealing with the social phenomena of throwing unwanted women in mental asylums, or with mental breakdowns of brilliant people of either gender, deal with it from outside, and this is one of the inside views. 

Sheila: The Australian ingenue who bewitched British society; by Robert Wainwright.

Sheila: The Australian ingenue who bewitched British society; by Robert Wainwright.


One begins with an intriguing opening about someone elderly arriving home after a lifetime spent across the world, in glitterati society as someone who takes it all naturally, and yet is more regal in spite of being very natural, very casual about it all - wondering if this person was real.

It is a bit disappointing to realise this is a halfway compromise between biography and gossip chronicles cleansed with hints of alliances but more details of who attended what wearing what, not because one wishes more gossip, rather the opposite - because one was expecting more in depth about the world as it was during the era. After all this person lived in very interesting times, and being disappointed with the book halfway through when it has arrived slowly to just before beginning of WWII is no mean achievement in being a court appointed cleaner of royal reputations.

Of course, it could become suddenly interesting, but seems doubtful going by what three quarters of it has been so far.

Wonder if this author is related to, or same as, the person who tried to put across a face saving "they were applauding the song, not the speech" despite truth being observed by the whole world (and as it was watched on live television, too) obviously to the contrary?
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Friday, May 13, 2016.
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Funnily enough the relevance comes through at the end when it is mentioned why the author took up the project at all - it was an elusive reference to Sheila in a biography of the king, her friend of many years during youth when he was Prince Bertie, along with the then Prince of Wales - it was clear that the mention of Sheila was rare because she had been a chief love in life of the then prince, which intrigued the publisher and thus the book proposal. The author mentions just how difficult it was to find material about this person so elusive on fringes of so many glitterati lives, and that the book was only possible because the material was made available by the various sources.

But the book does become interesting, as expected, in the last four tenth or so part - partly it is due to the WWII and post WWII world, and partly it is due to her finally finding peace with a Russian prince in exile, Dimitri Romanoff. He was introduced on the first page, but came later in her life as a main figure.
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Wednesday, May 18, 2016.
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He That Will Not When He May; by Margaret Wilson Oliphant.

Very surprising one finds oneself reading this book, in that this author is not as well known as deserved for sheer quality of writing. And she supported her three children with her writing, which amounts to her being not insignificant in her day, which was just over a century ago. Why her books are not as well read as those of Jane Austen, Bronte sisters or Galsworthy, cannot be only due to some similarities in writing, thinking or themes - Galsworthy came after, for one thing.

Her social setting and thought is generally reminiscent of Austen, while the era is more of or closer to Bronte sisters, what with the West Indies adventures of the younger sons and complications arising therefrom due to entailed estates, needs of younger sons to find a livelihood and possibly also an advantageous match, which if happened abroad didn't always go well with the younger sons so wed abroad returning home due to change in circumstances.

This work deals with difficulties of such marriages abroad with a different facet thereof, albeit reminding one of Jane Eyre. Funny part is, it is Jane Eyre that is more of romantic in comparison, while this one is more realistic in almost every way.

And yet, in a style with not so bold strokes as Charlotte Bronte, rather closer to Austen in plain but a bit subtler, closer to Galsworthy, the author here brings contrast of the two sons vividly home, with one brought up to expect nobility and riches and estates and more, playing with socialism and equality seriously until he is brought face to face with never having had any right to what he was so easily willing to or at least declaring he would throw away for sake of social equality, while the elder who quietly but emphatically asserts his rights to his place yet being noble about sharing everything with his new found family and reassuring them over and over about how he intends to cherish them, and doing so. Paul is tall and looks the part, while Augustus is short and looks like his dad, but it is Sir Augustus, not Sir Paul, and long after having finished the book this point remains like a subtle fragrance lingering.

This is even more emphasised with the mother of Paul, the good looking and amiable noble lady, melting all her objections to a match for her daughter when it is mentioned that the very desirable but unfortunately lacking in gentility of lineage suitor is extremely rich.

The political thought of the author is closer to Galsworthy, however, with questions of rights and castes of Europe taking for granted their privileges or deprivations for the most part, and this author is possibly less subtle about it.

One wonders,naturally, having read this author and others similar who are good but comparatively lesser known, if fashion forms a part of popularity and critical judgement of worthy critics either falls away or falls short in presenting readership with a plethora of decent works by good authors.