Any two people can set and jaw all day long but it takes two people right for each other to set together and just be quiet Quote - A Parchment Of Leaves

I love Appalachian Fiction and Silas House draws the reader in with a wonderful sense of time and place. I had this one on my to read list for awhile and January seemed like a good time to de clutter the TBR list as I knew I had some pretty good books there but always swayed by new books.

Set in early 1900s rural Kentucky and young Saul Sullivan is heading up to Redbud camp to look for work. He is wary but unafraid of the Cherokee girl there whose beauty is said to cause the death of all men who see her, but the minute Saul lays eyes on Vine he knows she is meant to be his wife.

Beautiful writing, with vivid descriptions that take you right to the heart of Appalachia. If I had read this one as opposed to listening to it probably would have taken me way longer to finish as its the sort of novel where you want to go back and re-read passages just for the beauty of the writing. I loved the characters although predictable they are well written and have a genuineness about them that makes you care about their outcome in the story.

This is a quiet book, its not full of action or twists and turns, just a good story well told with the added bonus of amazing sense of time and place, and I think readers who have enjoyed books like The Giver of Stars or The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek may well enjoy this one too.

I listened to this on on Audible and the narrator was really good.

1. Out of the Night #5 - which there isn't a cover for.  It's one of those horror comic books from the 1950s.  

 

2. Uncle Silas and A Glass Darkly - if you haven't read Le Fanu, you haven't read horror, and Uncle Silas is just that hook filled book.

 

3. 2666 - not strictly horror, but I was reading this book and when I came home late, I was frightened when walking the half block from the trolley stop to my house, so that has to count for something.

 

4. M R James - he makes jars scary.

 

5. Watership Down - not horror I know, but you get to that chapter about the black rabbit of death and the rabbit poker game when you're like seven, and you sleep with the lights on.

 

I may I also suggest 50 Shades of Grey which I don't like but it is truly frightening when you read this and wonder why so many people think it is good.

I am reposting my "10 Essential Horror Books (by a non-horror reader)" post for this prompt! My knowledge of horror fiction is quite limited, and what little horror I read, I read in September & October.

 

I do not read horror because I am a chicken, so while all of these books are "horror," they are not gory horror, or really, even, that scary. Most of them are more in the vein of "psychological horror," which might mean "horror for wusses," I don't know. Anyway, here we go:

 

1. Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury. I read this book almost every October at some time during Halloween bingo, that's how much I love it. Bradbury's language is so evocatively gorgeous that I can almost taste it. 

 

2. & 3. are both by Shirley Jackson: We Have Always Lived in the Castle and The Haunting of Hill House. There's just something about Shirley, you guys. She, like Hill House, is just a bit off - the floors slant and the doors don't close quite right, and she gets right to the heart of the stuff that scares the shit out of me.

 

4. The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters: is it a ghost story or isn't it a ghost story? Is the house haunted or isn't the house haunted? Is the narrator reliable or isn't the narrator reliable. Who the hell knows?

 

5. Uncle Silas by Sheridan LeFanu: as I said in my review, this book is a heaping platterful of Victorian whatthefuckery. It's awesome.

 

6. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood: what, you say, that's not horror? The fuck it isn't people. A dystopia built around legalized rape and coerced gestation? It's either horror or it's America. 

 

7. Dracula by Bram Stoker: trite, I know. But this book is amazing, and should always be experienced by listening to the full cast audiobook. It will change your perception completely.

 

8. Flowers in the Attic by V.C. Andrews: I read this book when I was an impressionable adolescent and am still creeped out by it. Totally fucked up.

 

9. The Monstrumologist by Rick Yancey: "Snap to, Will Henry." This is YA horror, and is gross, terrifying and enthralling. Seriously, I love this book. The rest of the series is pretty good, too, but this book stands alone in awesomeness. 

 

10. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier: I know that people think that this book is a romance, but (like in the case of Wuthering Heights) they are WRONG. This book is horror. It's a gorgeously written, utterly engrossing, tale of a woman who is gaslighted by household staff after accidentally marrying a rich man - with a great house - who murdered his wife. I could also put this under the category of suspense, and maybe I will. 

 

I know, this list of essential horror is sadly lacking in *real* horror authors, like Stephen King. But he's way too scary for me! 

I have previously reviewed the delights of ‘Middlemarch’ (see blogpost dated 1/1/17), which is generally regarded as the pinnacle of George Eliot’s literary achievements and undoubtedly it is a masterpiece. I also catapulted ‘Adam Bede’ onto my favourites shelf (see post dated 10/6/17) and so I came to ‘Silas Marner’, the author’s third novel (originally published in 1861) with high expectations and again, I was not disappointed. In truth, this book is another sublime tale by Eliot, with at its core a challenging moral conundrum, which has further bolstered my admiration of her work.

 

Eliot has ‘form’ in conferring unflattering characteristics on wealthy scoundrels, counterbalancing a virtuous example of the poor and comparatively powerless, but the story of the ‘Weaver of Raveloe’ is far more than a simple exposition of right and wrong, good and bad. Rather, like the main character’s fine linen, it is an intricately woven piece of artisanship, which demonstrates the redeeming and noble capacity of good people to do the right thing, even in the absence of personal gain. Such egalitarian principles may not be the social norm’, but in the small communities described by Eliot, they do establish reputations and reinforce social standing.

 

Silas Marner arrives at Raveloe chastened by a false accusation of theft in his pious, former community, who turned against him despite a lack of evidence. As a consequence, Marner moves away, turns inward and maintains only limited contact with his new neighbours, to sell his linens and buy food. By design, Marner’s becomes an isolated, frugal and reclusive life. Yet, even in the absence of contact with his peers, the central character discovers he cannot avoid the shaping of a local reputation, born of rumour and the imagination of villagers. The theft of his life’s savings, however, brings Marner to an even lower point in his life, from which his resilience will be ultimately tested.

 

The parallel plotline, deftly created by the author, concerns the sons of the local Squire Cass, whose privileged, profligate lifestyle is diametrically opposed to that of Silas Marner and yet converge they must upon the introduction of a two year-old orphan, who becomes the pivotal character for the respective storylines. Disregarding local opinions, Marner takes responsibility for the child (under the existing ‘Poor Law’ this would otherwise have fallen on the parish) and here strong female characters come onto play. I’m especially fond of Dolly Winthrop, local matriarch, who befriends Marner and takes the ardent bachelor in hand, to support the child-rearing and steer him into the heart of the village. ‘Eppie’ as she is christened gives new life to Marner and he in turn selflessly dedicates himself to her.

 

Only on the cusp of her adulthood are the ties of love tested by those of blood. A decision about whether to accept an opportunity for social elevation is a theme Eliot returns to in ‘Middlemarch’, written some ten years later and the author again mines a very fertile seam here, highlighting the apparently arbitrary nature class and of life’s chances. However, there are a number of underlying messages to be gleaned from this nineteenth century parable. Among them,‘life is what one makes of it’; 'it's never too late to change'; and ‘it takes a village to raise a child’. In any event, such masterful storytelling continues to resonate with our own time and great writing will always have an audience. Another for my favourites shelf.

Funny story: I have my mom's copy of this (another pre-ISBN book I own...) I bought myself a Kindle copy but that's not the funny part. The funny part is that I read this ages ago, with my mother when I was very young. We read it together. She had read it with her mother, so I guess it was supposed to be a thing. (If she'd ever read another book besides Jane Eyre, maybe it would have been.) But over the years, I'd forgotten most of it. I'm always annoyed when I see a star rating on my books marked read and can't remember much, so since it's short, I read it yesterday. I knew it involved a weaver and his daughter. But in my brilliant mind, I meshed it with Rumpelstiltskin. What a shocker when nobody spun any gold!

 

This really is a lovely story. Before it's lovely, it's laugh aloud funny too. Despite its age, the language is easy to understand and it's an incredibly quick read. George Eliot packed a lot of story into a very slim book, and an original telling into a morality play. A ton of characters and plot lines all weave together effortlessly to end in a tear-jerker.

 

Interestingly, she thought this was a throwaway, or perhaps it should be a poem. We're lucky she finished the story because it really is a little gem. Now I suppose I should reread Rumpelstiltskin in case I've got that mixed up with something else entirely too.