Ah, Vacation Of The Mind

Over my many years I've developed an affinity for the vacation novel. To me, they take me places without giving me jet lag, or a sore butt from having to sit in a sardine can. They also usually provide adventure that few of my real-life vacations have ever had the pleasure of providing me.   A few vacation novels that I've loved, that pop into mind are Ship of Fools, Joyland, The Moonspinners, The Gabriel Hounds,...

This summer I've had the pleasure of reading two new ones; well, one new, one old; well, both old.

A couple months ago I turned on the movie Black Narcissus for probably the sixth or seventh time in my life, and this time I finally finished it.  It had always struck me as a rather odd movie, but finishing it made me realize it was a rather good movie as well. The crazy nun who goes off the deep end (literally though fictionally as well, though maybe not fictionally...) qualified as quite fantastic.  As is my wont, I had to research the movie a little after I finished it and learned that the story was from a novel written by a lady with the fabulous name of Rumer Godden; she had been inspired to write the story from having discovered some derelict tombstone with a inscription to a lady that shared the same name as the crazy nun.   I learned she had written a couple of other novels, and reading a snippet from one of them, The Greengage Summer,  I found out that the Greengage is a type of green plum grown in France that are apparently quite delicious.  In France they are called Reine Claud;  Reine Claud in English is Queen Claud, but I'm not sure if the plural should be Queens Claud or Queen Clauds; presumably the former, but perhaps that conundrum caused the English to give it a different name entirely.  My guess is its Misters Smith and not Mister Smiths, and so it should be Queens Claud; meme, en francais, Reines Claud?  Oh, if only there was a rain cloud...  As I quickly scanned the book just now for something else, I notice they say Reines Claudes; Misters Smiths?  Rain clouds, please.

Well, having learned over the years that plums are one of the great delights of existence, I was immediately envious, perhaps hungry, as I'd never had the pleasure of tasting the green plum; alas, I presumably never will,  but nevertheless, I decided this novel needed to be read.   I found on Amazon that the hardback copy was actually a dollar or two cheaper than the paperback, so I opted for the savings.  The book that arrived was physically a little strange.   There were two strange things about it; its size in height and width which were about three fifths the normal height and width of hardback books was one; the other was the fact that it came with a built-in ribbon bookmark attached to its spine.  Other than a bible or perhaps an Encyclopedia Brittanica, I can't think of any book I've seen that came with a ribbon bookmark.  The size of the book made me think it was made for delicate, presumably small hands.   As the story turned out to be about teenage girls and younger on a vacation along the Marne, I could see how the target audience might be teenage girls and younger, ergo the delicate size was probably some marketer's idea of something that might appeal to young girls in a bookshop, and that marketer probably was right. 

Like a little girl I suppose, I was charmed by The Greengage Summer.  Well, I was charmed by a pleasant little hotel called Les Oeillets with friendly and not so friendly accommodations smack dab in the middle of a sunny corner of France neighboring the Marne river; I forget the name of the village, but I looked for it on a map and couldn't find it.   There was a greengage orchard neighboring the Hotel des Oeillets, and the fruit were ripe, falling from the trees.  If you wanted to eat one, you just plucked it off the tree, and when you were done with it, you could have another one if you liked.  I was charmed by a British family of children, four girls, one little boy, temporarily orphaned in the hotel when their mother gets sick.   They were mostly nice people.  The children to some degree all grow up a little over the course of a hot August.   There was a charming scoundrel, and well, Mademoiselle Zizi.  How in the world could you not like a novel with a character named Zizi.  (More to come...).   They have a mild and intriguing adventure, but its mostly about learning how to understand other people, which is rather a good lesson to learn I suppose...   Oh and it was quite relaxing.   Indeed, I just felt like I was a traveller myself there,  perhaps at one of the corner tables in the restaurant, hiding behind a newspaper perhaps, but watching the events play out, smiling at the play.

Ah well, it was only 200 pages long and small pages matching the book size, so, well, it was over all too soon.  Like all vacations, an end follows a beginning and a middle.

Turn the page...  Check out what's on Project Gutenberg...  My gosh!  They have Hemingway and Fiesta.  A fiesta vacation!

A long time ago I was in college and was assigned Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises (aka:  Fiesta), and though I could remember a thing or two about it, it had otherwise vaporized in my memory.  I'm sure I probably only scanned it, and what I could remember, I think, are things that came up in class.  I remembered that Jake had had something happen to him in WWI that made him impotent.  I sort of remembered Lady Ashley and Robert Cohn.  Of course you remember that they go to Pamplona and there's the running of the bulls, but...  Now that I think about it, I think I was aware of the fishing too, but...   For a couple of years it has been on my list of books I should revisit, and bam, seeing it on Project G as I closed the cover on Greengage Summer, I couldn't help but think,  Here I am already in France, it won't hurt to take a side trip to Spain...  The thing about Fiesta is it starts in France so it wasn't a giant leap...

Fiesta isn't a book about children.  I mentioned it to my sister saying it was a book about adults.  But thinking about it, it's sort of a book about adults acting like children.  I guess that's something a vacation allows you do.  They do a lot of drinking.  Drinking isn't for kids, but then again,  sort of turns them into kids.  Well, idiots.  Is there a difference?

There are actually two vacations in Fiesta.  It starts in Paris, and though Paris may be a fine vacation spot, and probably 90% of the characters were little more than tourists there, Jake was actually employed there, so I don't consider that third of the novel a vacation, though again, I suppose as a tourist, it may've been a vacation for me...   The first one of course was Pamplona.   Fishing friends food wine and bulls.   The second was after Pamplona, when the friends all go their own way,  and Jake takes a solitary little vacation on his own to some small beach retreat on the coast of Spain, where he swims and pretty much keeps to himself.  I'm not sure he speaks a word to anyone while he's there, but I may be wrong;  I finished it a month ago and elements are already vaporizing...   Nevertheless it was ever so much calmer than Pamplona; a moment of silent reflection.   I couldn't remember the second vacation from my first reading of the novel 52 years ago, but I may not've got that far back then...   Regardless, it was a nice way to finish my two to three month trip to Europe; just a few days of rest before heading home.    There was a final trip to Madrid, but that was just like me going there to catch the flight back.  Well not exactly;  it's just that it wasn't a vacation trip; it was a chore trip.

It is coincidental that The Sun Also Rises also had a character named Zizi.  Zizi in Fiesta is not a French Mademoiselle though; rather a Greek painter.   He only makes a brief appearance...  Still this little coincidence seemed to tie these two vacations together for me quite neatly.