The Woman in White

I read The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins for bookshelvesofdoom's The Big Read V. I imagined that I would find it at my local library--probably five or six editions to choose from, nestled among the other neglected Victorian classics. It wasn't there. It turned out that my local library didn't own any copies of it at all. I could have interlibrary loaned it, but there wasn't time before the Jan 1 starting date. So I bought a cheap copy, grumbling bitterly about the $8.95 and the additional clutter to the house.

My buyer's remorse deepened when I read the brief Collins bio at the beginning. Collins was buddies with Dickens and they co-wrote some stuff together. As I have mentioned here in the past, my feelings about Dickens are not complex and are mostly negative.

I expected to extract some mild enjoyment from the book, when looking back at it, after a prolonged effort to slog through it. And I didn't have high hopes for someone named Wilkie. Makes me wonder how I ever managed to start it.

I got hooked immediately. The Woman in White is the prototype for the amateur detective-thriller/suspense novel. Although I recognized many of the suspenseful devices that have been (usually poorly) copied over and over again, I was fascinated. Some of the plot turns I predicted, but while I was feeling self-righteously smug about those, I was caught off-guard by some of the others that I hadn't seen coming, and was knocked back to my humble place.

I liked it for its action and thrills, the complicated unsummarizable plot, its dark moodiness (reminded me of Jane Eyre's atmosphere), and primarily for its people. Each of the multiple narrators had a distinct voice. I wish that I had time to read it again, to read between the lines of my favorites: Walter (didn't think much of his taste in women, but appreciated his snark), Fosco (deliciously sinister), and "that magnificent creature" Marian ("Pass me the intoxicating familiarity of mentioning this sublime creature by her Christian name."). And then there is Frederick Fairlie, bordering on caricature-like at times but page-turning anyway. I close with a quote from his narrative:

"At the end of June, or the beginning of July, then, I was reclining, in my customary state, surrounded by the various objects of Art which I have collected about me to improve the taste of the barbarous people in my neighbourhood. That is to say, I had the photographs of my pictures, and prints, and coins, and so forth, all about me, which I intend, one of these days, to present (the photographs, I mean, if the clumsy English language will let me mean anything)--to present to the Institution at Carlisle (horrid place!), with a view to improving the tastes of the Members (Goths and Vandals to a man).It might be supposed that a gentleman who was in course of conferring a great national benefit on his countrymen, was the last gentleman in the world to be unfeelingly worried about private difficulties and family affairs. Quite a mistake, I assure you, in my case."

The man likes his commas.


Too bad that not many people read this book anymore, which seems to have been the sensation of its day. Now I wish that I had selected a nicer edition than my $8.95 one.

Resolution Update

Did you miss me readers, all five of you?

It is time to check in and assess the progress of my New Years resolutions.

1. Buy a piano.
Progress: not done. Not because of any diminished yearning for it. First, it would be prudent to paint the living room and replace its carpet. And then I was thinking about wood floors for all of the first floor, to match the wood floor in the kitchen that I have long set my mind upon. Best to do it all at once. Fortunately, I have been visited recently with an increased interest in home improvement. Coincidentally, I have also renewed another of my obsessions: eliminating debts. I blame my friends Ellen and Jason for their blog, Debt Free in 40. I have calculated that I can be completely debt-free in eight years, provided that I don't do anything like replace flooring or adopt more dogs. I can't stop thinking about it. Without a mortgage, I could cut my work hours in half and play the piano all day! (Or, you know...volunteer or something.) I plot every day about how much money I can shave off here and there--buy lentils instead of salmon, turn the thermostat down a few more degrees, make homemade laundry detergent--and cackle about how those dollars will worry tenaciously into that formidable mortgage. I want it gone. I also want a piano. Meanwhile, I stand with the money clenched tightly in my fists, uncertain which temptation to obey.

2. Plant a raspberry bush.
Deferred until spring.

3. Complete a short story and submit it to a journal.
Nope, haven't started. I will hastily add that I have been writing lots lately, but it is sadly fragmented. Winter tends to be my most creative period of the year, and this season is no exception. The chill leaves my mind crisp and refreshed, and creativity is renewed with each fresh blanket of snow. Lately, I have felt afflicted with a (subclinical!) mania, and I've been writing extensively but with no particular attachment. Thank goodness for my writing group, or I'd never have the motivation to sift through the scraps of paper around here.

4. Complete the Couch to 5K plan.
I am on schedule. I finished day 1 of week 4 yesterday. No signs of injury at this point; I'm hoping that was a 2009 phenomenon. I feel great. The pounds of Christmas cookies have disappeared from my hips, my posture is better, I sleep better, and the iPod and I are friends again.

5. Read Anna Karenina.
Nope. I finished The Woman in White for The Big Read, and then I got three books from interlibrary loan all at once that I've been waiting for a long time. But below those three books, that fat tome is next in line.

Gingerbread-Pumpkin Pancakes with Toasted Pecans and Lingonberry Sauce

I will preface this post by noting that I am not normally a pancake-lover. Usually they seem to be flabby, tasteless things. And I dislike pancake syrup, which tastes like what it is most of the time: colored corn syrup that has nothing to do with maple trees.

But these are different.

These gingerbread-pumpkin pancakes are so rich and hearty and spicy that they don't need any adornment at all, except to make them pretty. And they are relatively healthy too, with whole wheat flour, calcium and iron-laden molasses, and not much sugar, considering how many pancakes that one batch makes. I used this Rachael Ray recipe as a template, and have made several adjustments to it.

Gingerbread-Pumpkin Pancakes with Toasted Pecans and Lingonberry Sauce

Yield: 8 pancakes

Ingredients:
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
2 teaspoonfuls baking powder
1 teaspoonful ground cinnamon
1 teaspoonful ground ginger
1/4-1/2 teaspoonful freshly ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoonful salt
2 eggs
1/3 cup packed dark brown sugar
1/2 cup pumpkin puree
1/2 cup milk
1/4 cup molasses
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) butter, melted (note: probably this quantity could be decreased with no ill effect), plus more for the pan
Large handful of toasted, chopped pecans for the batter, plus more for garnish
Lingonberry or cranberry sauce, whole-berry

In a large bowl, mix together the first 7 ingredients (flour through salt). In a medium bowl, beat the eggs and combine with sugar, pumpkin, milk, molasses, and butter until well-mixed. Pour the wet ingredients in with the dry and stir until just combined. Add pecans. Do not overmix.

Preheat large non-stick pan or griddle and lightly coat with butter. Spoon batter into pan and cook until done, flipping once. Batter will not spread much, so resist the temptation to make huge pancakes. Top with extra pecans and lingonberry sauce.

Wrap leftover cakes individually and freeze.