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Olivia Curtis #1
Invitation to the Waltz
A diary for her innermost thoughts, a china ornament, a ten-shilling note, and a roll of flame-coloured silk for her first evening dress: these are the gifts Olivia Curtis receives for her seventeenth birthday. She anticipates her first dance, the greatest yet most terrifying event of her restricted social life, with tremulous uncertainty and excitement. For her pretty, charming elder sister Kate, the dance is certain to be a triumph, but what will it be for shy, awkward Olivia?
Exploring the daydreams and miseries attendant upon even the most innocent of social events, Rosamond Lehmann perfectly captures the emotions of a girl standing poised on the threshold of womanhood.
Exploring the daydreams and miseries attendant upon even the most innocent of social events, Rosamond Lehmann perfectly captures the emotions of a girl standing poised on the threshold of womanhood.
302 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1932
42 people are currently reading
3163 people want to read
About the author
Rosamond Lehmann
43 books127 followersRosamond Nina Lehmann was born in Bourne End, Buckinghamshire, as the second daughter of Rudolph Lehmann and his wife Alice Davis, a New Englander. Her father Rudolph Chambers Lehmann was a liberal MP, and editor of the Daily News. John Lehmann (1907-1989) was her brother; one of her two sisters was the famous actress Beatrix Lehmann.
In 1919 she went to Girton College, University of Cambridge to read English Literature, an unusual thing for a woman to do at that time. In December 1923 she married Leslie Runciman (later 2nd Viscount Runciman of Doxford) (1900-1989), and the couple went to live in Newcastle upon Tyne. It was an unhappy marriage, and they separated in 1927 and were divorced later that year.
In 1927, Lehmann published her first novel, Dusty Answer, to great critical and popular acclaim. The novel's heroine, Judith, is attracted to both men and women, and interacts with fairly openly gay and lesbian characters during her years at Cambridge. The novel was a succès de scandale. Though none of her later novels were as successful as her first, Lehmann went on to publish six more novels, a play (No More Music, 1939), a collection of short stories (The Gypsy's Baby & Other Stories, 1946), a spiritual autobiography (The Swan in the Evening, 1967), and a photographic memoir of her friends (Rosamond Lehmann's Album, 1985), many of whom were famous Bloomsbury figures such as Leonard and Virginia Woolf, Carrington, and Lytton Strachey. She also translated two French novels into English: Jacques Lemarchand's Genevieve (1948) and Jean Cocteau's Children of the Game (1955). Her novels include A Note in Music (1930), Invitation to the Waltz (1932), The Weather in the Streets (1936), The Ballad and the Source (1944), The Echoing Grove (1953), and A Sea-Grape Tree (1976).
In 1928, Lehmann married Wogan Philipps, an artist. They had two children, a son Hugo (1929-1999) and a daughter Sarah or Sally (1934-1958), but the marriage quickly fell apart during the late Thirties with her Communist husband leaving to take part in the Spanish Civil War. During World War II she helped edit and contributed to New Writing, a periodical edited by her brother. She had an affair with Goronwy Rees and then a "very public affair" for nine years (1941-1950) with the married Cecil Day-Lewis, who eventually left her for his second wife.
Her 1953 novel The Echoing Grove was made into the 2002 film Heart of Me, with Helena Bonham Carter as the main character, Dinah. Her book The Ballad and the Source depicts an unhappy marriage from the point of view of a child, and has been compared to Henry James' What Maisie Knew.
The Swan in the Evening (1967) is an autobiography which Lehmann described as her "last testament". In it, she intimately describes the emotions she felt at the birth of her daughter Sally, and also when Sally died abruptly of poliomyelitis at the age of 23 (or 24) in 1958 while in Jakarta. She never recovered from Sally's death. Lehmann claimed to have had some psychic experiences, documented in Moments of Truth.
Lehmann was awarded the CBE in 1982 and died at Clareville Grove, London on 12 March 1990, aged 89.
In 1919 she went to Girton College, University of Cambridge to read English Literature, an unusual thing for a woman to do at that time. In December 1923 she married Leslie Runciman (later 2nd Viscount Runciman of Doxford) (1900-1989), and the couple went to live in Newcastle upon Tyne. It was an unhappy marriage, and they separated in 1927 and were divorced later that year.
In 1927, Lehmann published her first novel, Dusty Answer, to great critical and popular acclaim. The novel's heroine, Judith, is attracted to both men and women, and interacts with fairly openly gay and lesbian characters during her years at Cambridge. The novel was a succès de scandale. Though none of her later novels were as successful as her first, Lehmann went on to publish six more novels, a play (No More Music, 1939), a collection of short stories (The Gypsy's Baby & Other Stories, 1946), a spiritual autobiography (The Swan in the Evening, 1967), and a photographic memoir of her friends (Rosamond Lehmann's Album, 1985), many of whom were famous Bloomsbury figures such as Leonard and Virginia Woolf, Carrington, and Lytton Strachey. She also translated two French novels into English: Jacques Lemarchand's Genevieve (1948) and Jean Cocteau's Children of the Game (1955). Her novels include A Note in Music (1930), Invitation to the Waltz (1932), The Weather in the Streets (1936), The Ballad and the Source (1944), The Echoing Grove (1953), and A Sea-Grape Tree (1976).
In 1928, Lehmann married Wogan Philipps, an artist. They had two children, a son Hugo (1929-1999) and a daughter Sarah or Sally (1934-1958), but the marriage quickly fell apart during the late Thirties with her Communist husband leaving to take part in the Spanish Civil War. During World War II she helped edit and contributed to New Writing, a periodical edited by her brother. She had an affair with Goronwy Rees and then a "very public affair" for nine years (1941-1950) with the married Cecil Day-Lewis, who eventually left her for his second wife.
Her 1953 novel The Echoing Grove was made into the 2002 film Heart of Me, with Helena Bonham Carter as the main character, Dinah. Her book The Ballad and the Source depicts an unhappy marriage from the point of view of a child, and has been compared to Henry James' What Maisie Knew.
The Swan in the Evening (1967) is an autobiography which Lehmann described as her "last testament". In it, she intimately describes the emotions she felt at the birth of her daughter Sally, and also when Sally died abruptly of poliomyelitis at the age of 23 (or 24) in 1958 while in Jakarta. She never recovered from Sally's death. Lehmann claimed to have had some psychic experiences, documented in Moments of Truth.
Lehmann was awarded the CBE in 1982 and died at Clareville Grove, London on 12 March 1990, aged 89.
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January 9, 2019
Re-reading this, I'm struck by how Lehmann uses the local story of Olivia's first dance as a vehicle to offer a compressed journey through life: using a mix of stream-of-consciousness and conventional narrative we experience Olivia's shy emergence, her initial lack of confidence, then a series of encounters like a mini Odyssey. She meets an awkward, self-involved poet; is disillusioned by a man she first met as a boy who doesn't remember her and is drunk; she dances with a young man blinded in the last year of WW1; and meets Rollo Spencer for the first time, an encounter that fills the centre of The Weather in the Streets.
By the end of this single night, Olivia's relationship to the world has changed - and the book ends with her tremulous step forward to adulthood. This mingling of the local and the universal, the specific and the figurative is rendered with acute delicacy and control. I was slightly worried that I might not love this as much second time around - but actually I found it richer and even more accomplished than I remembered.
(My original review is below)
---------------------------------------------
Set ten year's before Lehmann's The Weather In The Streets, this is a gorgeously sensitive and delicate book which depicts Olivia on the shivering brink of womanhood - and shows us her first meeting with the older, sophisticated and charming Rollo.
Lehmann's prose is, as ever, incandescent and luminous, sensual and yet precise, and she dissects the flow of emotion between men and women like a surgeon. This is a different Olivia for the woman we meet in the later book: fragile, idealistic, tentative, romantic, and the two together make up a moving portrait of a female psyche in the between-the-war years of the twentieth century.
Lehmann, for me, is one of the supreme female stylists with an acute and clear-sighted vision of what love does to us. If you like this, I would highly recommend her Dusty Answer and Antonia White's Frost in May quartet.
By the end of this single night, Olivia's relationship to the world has changed - and the book ends with her tremulous step forward to adulthood. This mingling of the local and the universal, the specific and the figurative is rendered with acute delicacy and control. I was slightly worried that I might not love this as much second time around - but actually I found it richer and even more accomplished than I remembered.
(My original review is below)
---------------------------------------------
Set ten year's before Lehmann's The Weather In The Streets, this is a gorgeously sensitive and delicate book which depicts Olivia on the shivering brink of womanhood - and shows us her first meeting with the older, sophisticated and charming Rollo.
Lehmann's prose is, as ever, incandescent and luminous, sensual and yet precise, and she dissects the flow of emotion between men and women like a surgeon. This is a different Olivia for the woman we meet in the later book: fragile, idealistic, tentative, romantic, and the two together make up a moving portrait of a female psyche in the between-the-war years of the twentieth century.
Lehmann, for me, is one of the supreme female stylists with an acute and clear-sighted vision of what love does to us. If you like this, I would highly recommend her Dusty Answer and Antonia White's Frost in May quartet.
December 18, 2011
I think I loved Invitation to the Waltz a little bit. I have a feeling about it that it could grow into my memory as a fonder experience. Sweet and sad. I'll sigh when spotting it on my bookshelf (it is still on my bedside table. I'm reluctant to let go of the evening just yet). It's what people mean when they describe an experience as bittersweet, probably. I don't know if I could trust a memory as real unless its edges were sharp. "Did I built it into something too perfect?" If you're like me and find it difficult to enjoy anything without feeling sad for the inevitable moment of it ending you'll probably like this curious nostalgic feeling of a seventeen year old girl's first encounter with, well, looking around at other people (and maybe trying to avoid the meeting of the eyes in the looking around) to see if someone else might get the 'If you're like me..." feeling. It might be like reading a book and writing the goodreads review of it in your head while you read feeling. Olivia does that before, during and after her dance. They say not to look at your feet while you dance. Lehmann's prose style is a little like looking at your feet when you dance. She's moving. There are steps, like doing someone else's made up dance (I have used this analogy before, probably. When you rehearse and then on the day of you know the steps and forget and you're just dancing), and yet it's you moving. I like the way she moves. At first I wasn't so sure. Too many descriptions of outfits, the sister Kate was uninteresting to me in her predetermined romance that pretty people in young people's novels can have. I was suspicious that it would be another same old story I've read before. Yet it's unique like some dance that anyone could dance because of the deliberation of the steps. (Enough, Mariel.) Olivia is hopeful, out of place, uncomfortable in her own skin. It's the good kind of painful because you can like someone else for having those qualities that you were miserable yourself having. Anyone could say awkward teen, stiff upper lip English people, catty debutantes, et all, and yet Lehmann writes it as just skin to be worn and seen through if you will. The interest for me is in the will.
'Invitation' is a little awkward, even shy. I'm hooked on its arm and led into the country dance (it's really a dance this time!) that's something a great deal more than a country dance because it has been thought so much of. It's about the fit. The fit is less because it has been thought so much (less) of. Lehmann did something brilliant here. It's like wanting to be aware and utterly without the background to place others in. It is like being on someone else's arm in a room. Their shelter is also the shadow for you to stand in, if you do not know your own background (sharp edges and blurry middles. Or is it the other way around?). Olivia is a seventeen year old girl who stops to notice how she breathes. Do you ever stop and pay attention to your own breathing and after a while it feels like you might forget how if you can't stop paying attention to your own breathing? What if you also pay attention to how other people breathe and, wish as you might, you are not in sync. The arm you are on yanks as much as it can pull. It feels good when you're pulled so that you don't think about it.
The word suspicious is used a lot. What other people might mean, if you could read behind their intentions. If you could pull back the curtain of the mask. It's about the hope that there might be nothing more behind that background than the nice face it puts on. It's about when you might pull back on the arm. It's about feeling like there could be some imagination about that background and others fitting into it. 'Waltz' is bittersweet because I'm getting pulled too. I don't know if Olivia is going to remember to breathe. I forget when she forgets and suspect when she suspects. I don't know more about these people than she does. It's pretty much the perfect look into how a shy person forgets how to judge because she is too afraid of being judged herself.
I found out about Invitation to the Waltz (and it's sequel. I'm going to read that soon. I'm looking forward to it as a special treat for the Christmas break) when looking for readalikes of the favorites of my heart books. It was recommended for fans of Elizabeth Bowen's The Death of the Heart (my favorite book). It could have easily have been one of my I Capture the Castle readalikes of the summer of 2011, as well. This is one of my most cherished kinds of stories. How do you keep the hope alive about what is going on in all of those other people's heads? The studying/living/breaking one's own heart story. I think that I read them as a reminder that it comes out of the hope as much as suspicion. I want to believe that some part behind my own mask has wheel cogs turning to wonder about those Olivias.
"They were so kind. This was what real people were like after all, just as she had always imagined; not sinister, inexplicable, but friendly and simple, accepting one pleasantly, with humour but without malice, without condescension, criticism or caresses. How extraordinary to be here with them; from being outcast, flung beyond the furthest rim, to have penetrated suddenly to the innermost core of the house, to be in their home. The dancing, the people beyond were nothing, a froth on the surface, soon to be blown away."
And yet I felt so lonely for Olivia in the end. The dance is over and all of those people she met (some were out right horrors) are trying to keep a softer shape in her mind. I felt like she was losing those real edges and it was too sweet that she should trust. What if her Uncle Oswald is right that if she doesn't decide what the right way to fit is that someone else will decide for her. What if they don't stand beside with a sympathetic expression as Olivia does? What if she meets too many people who don't make the same concern and the wonder is gone and everyone seems the same old story that only some people get to have in novels? (I'd tell her to read better novels. They have great people.) What if those people weren't worth bothering about? Is it enough to do it to have better edges? I don't know... More books.
'Invitation' is a little awkward, even shy. I'm hooked on its arm and led into the country dance (it's really a dance this time!) that's something a great deal more than a country dance because it has been thought so much of. It's about the fit. The fit is less because it has been thought so much (less) of. Lehmann did something brilliant here. It's like wanting to be aware and utterly without the background to place others in. It is like being on someone else's arm in a room. Their shelter is also the shadow for you to stand in, if you do not know your own background (sharp edges and blurry middles. Or is it the other way around?). Olivia is a seventeen year old girl who stops to notice how she breathes. Do you ever stop and pay attention to your own breathing and after a while it feels like you might forget how if you can't stop paying attention to your own breathing? What if you also pay attention to how other people breathe and, wish as you might, you are not in sync. The arm you are on yanks as much as it can pull. It feels good when you're pulled so that you don't think about it.
The word suspicious is used a lot. What other people might mean, if you could read behind their intentions. If you could pull back the curtain of the mask. It's about the hope that there might be nothing more behind that background than the nice face it puts on. It's about when you might pull back on the arm. It's about feeling like there could be some imagination about that background and others fitting into it. 'Waltz' is bittersweet because I'm getting pulled too. I don't know if Olivia is going to remember to breathe. I forget when she forgets and suspect when she suspects. I don't know more about these people than she does. It's pretty much the perfect look into how a shy person forgets how to judge because she is too afraid of being judged herself.
I found out about Invitation to the Waltz (and it's sequel. I'm going to read that soon. I'm looking forward to it as a special treat for the Christmas break) when looking for readalikes of the favorites of my heart books. It was recommended for fans of Elizabeth Bowen's The Death of the Heart (my favorite book). It could have easily have been one of my I Capture the Castle readalikes of the summer of 2011, as well. This is one of my most cherished kinds of stories. How do you keep the hope alive about what is going on in all of those other people's heads? The studying/living/breaking one's own heart story. I think that I read them as a reminder that it comes out of the hope as much as suspicion. I want to believe that some part behind my own mask has wheel cogs turning to wonder about those Olivias.
"They were so kind. This was what real people were like after all, just as she had always imagined; not sinister, inexplicable, but friendly and simple, accepting one pleasantly, with humour but without malice, without condescension, criticism or caresses. How extraordinary to be here with them; from being outcast, flung beyond the furthest rim, to have penetrated suddenly to the innermost core of the house, to be in their home. The dancing, the people beyond were nothing, a froth on the surface, soon to be blown away."
And yet I felt so lonely for Olivia in the end. The dance is over and all of those people she met (some were out right horrors) are trying to keep a softer shape in her mind. I felt like she was losing those real edges and it was too sweet that she should trust. What if her Uncle Oswald is right that if she doesn't decide what the right way to fit is that someone else will decide for her. What if they don't stand beside with a sympathetic expression as Olivia does? What if she meets too many people who don't make the same concern and the wonder is gone and everyone seems the same old story that only some people get to have in novels? (I'd tell her to read better novels. They have great people.) What if those people weren't worth bothering about? Is it enough to do it to have better edges? I don't know... More books.
August 27, 2021
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3.25 stars
Invitation to the Waltz is a short novel which was first published in 1932 and written by Rosamond Lehmann, an overlooked yet clearly talented author. The narrative takes place over the course of two days: the day of Olivia Curtis' seventeenth birthday and the day in which, together with her older sister Kate and a dullish male chaperone, she goes to her first dance.
This is not the type of novel that has a clear storyline or plot. Lehmann spends a large portion of her narrative conveying Olivia's various states of mind and detailing the frivolous chit-chat between the people around her on these two separate days (from her family members to her neighbours).
From the start readers will be aware of Olivia's self-awareness over her own shyness and inexperience. Feeling inferior to the more mature and beautiful Kate, Olivia is desperately looking forward to her first dance as she hopes that something will happen there, even if she does not know exactly what that something should or will be. Lehmann skilfully renders Olivia's innermost thoughts, emphasising the elusive shape of her desires. Olivia's character brought to mind the nameless narrator of Rebecca as they are both almost painfully aware of being seen as young and green by the people around them. Olivia comes to mythologize the dance, regarding this event as something more than a rite of passage.
Lehmann's style possesses an unflagging rhythm that effectively propels readers along. Between Olivia's inner monologue and the constant—and often empty—chatter between the various characters Lehmann's narrative almost becomes too much. The way in which she moves from conversation to conversation or from thought to thought gave her style a syncopated energy that was too nervy for my liking (it brought to mind the writing of Muriel Spark and Dorothy Baker).
I can definitely see why many readers compare Lehmann to Virginia Woolf. At the best of times I will find stream of consciousness to be too florid for my taste...so I was slightly put off by Lehmann's use of this technique.
The long-awaited dance did not strike me as particularly memorable as lot of potentially significant scenes or conversations are absorbed into the noisy and forgettable chatter and general hubbub of the party.
On the one hand, I appreciated how upbeat this novel is and the way Lehmann captured that awkward transition between girlhood and adulthood...on the other, I can't say that I was particularly engaged by her narrative or her characters.
3.25 stars
Invitation to the Waltz is a short novel which was first published in 1932 and written by Rosamond Lehmann, an overlooked yet clearly talented author. The narrative takes place over the course of two days: the day of Olivia Curtis' seventeenth birthday and the day in which, together with her older sister Kate and a dullish male chaperone, she goes to her first dance.
“And they waltzed together to the music made for joy. She danced with him in love and sorrow. He held her close to him, and he was far away from her, far from the music, buried and indifferent. She danced with his youth and his death.”
This is not the type of novel that has a clear storyline or plot. Lehmann spends a large portion of her narrative conveying Olivia's various states of mind and detailing the frivolous chit-chat between the people around her on these two separate days (from her family members to her neighbours).
From the start readers will be aware of Olivia's self-awareness over her own shyness and inexperience. Feeling inferior to the more mature and beautiful Kate, Olivia is desperately looking forward to her first dance as she hopes that something will happen there, even if she does not know exactly what that something should or will be. Lehmann skilfully renders Olivia's innermost thoughts, emphasising the elusive shape of her desires. Olivia's character brought to mind the nameless narrator of Rebecca as they are both almost painfully aware of being seen as young and green by the people around them. Olivia comes to mythologize the dance, regarding this event as something more than a rite of passage.
Lehmann's style possesses an unflagging rhythm that effectively propels readers along. Between Olivia's inner monologue and the constant—and often empty—chatter between the various characters Lehmann's narrative almost becomes too much. The way in which she moves from conversation to conversation or from thought to thought gave her style a syncopated energy that was too nervy for my liking (it brought to mind the writing of Muriel Spark and Dorothy Baker).
I can definitely see why many readers compare Lehmann to Virginia Woolf. At the best of times I will find stream of consciousness to be too florid for my taste...so I was slightly put off by Lehmann's use of this technique.
The long-awaited dance did not strike me as particularly memorable as lot of potentially significant scenes or conversations are absorbed into the noisy and forgettable chatter and general hubbub of the party.
On the one hand, I appreciated how upbeat this novel is and the way Lehmann captured that awkward transition between girlhood and adulthood...on the other, I can't say that I was particularly engaged by her narrative or her characters.
May 4, 2015
I loved this. I think, perhaps, one of the main reasons was because of the real sense of affection I felt that the author had for this wonderfully ordinary 17 year old girl. Her interior life has value and richness. Her experiences, her thoughts, her fears, are all legitimate subjects for a novel. Yes we are meant to laugh at her, but there is no meanness, no spite, no superiority - instead there is warmth and compassion. It is also probably the closest I will ever come to knowing what it was like to be such a girl in 1920. My god it is stressful having an empty dance program with 23 dances to try and fill up with boys names....
November 26, 2020
An exceptionally good, coming-of-age story that opens with the seventeenth birthday of Olivia Curtis. Invitation to the Waltz’s set in the early 1920s in what resembles a Downton-esque version of rural England, one of nurseries, governesses and servants, except that Olivia’s family have come down in the world, the nursery's dilapidated and servants are minimal. Olivia and older sister Kate are unexpectedly going to a ball organised by local gentry. The prospect dominates the days leading up to it. They’re caught up in frantic preparations, fantasies of dashing young men and fairy-tale marriages. Kate’s excited but diffident Olivia’s more apprehensive. One of her presents is a bolt of flame-coloured silk, ready to be turned into a gown for the ball.
As Olivia walks to and from her dressmaker in the local village, there’s an atmosphere of foreboding, suggested via the women Lehmann highlights: the dressmaker, a garrulous, lonely spinster daydreaming about the local farm-worker she rejected because of his lower class; the Cartwright boys’ perpetually-pregnant mother; the Major’s wife an outcast for her past divorces; and the impoverished gentlewomen desperate to supplement dwindling incomes. There are no shining examples here of the lives Olivia and Kate hope for, even their sensible mother’s happiness is uncertain. Lehmann’s England’s a harsh place, women’s positions are precarious, social conventions are rigid, class is central, wealth is crucial and the Curtis’s position’s a liminal one at best. The men around them are either aging or very young, reminder of the impact of war, underlined by Olivia’s preoccupation with loss and death and the sisters’ frantic search for any possible escort.
Stories of the transition from childhood to adult typically deal in questions of knowledge, Lehmann’s is no different. Lehmann draws on a blend of conventional and modernist styles, providing direct access to Olivia’s perspective, her thoughts and feelings. Olivia’s sensitive, acutely observant but sheltered, villagers’ gossip hints at the realities of relationships between men and women but even the copies of Shakespeare handed out in a local group are censored. It’s an environment in which so much is unspoken, repressed or denied, Olivia has no framework for interpreting what she encounters: her fumbling uncle and the over-attentive Major make her uneasy but she’s not sure why. Although she also has a defiant, questioning streak, as conflicted about the trappings of womanhood embraced by Kate, as she is about her own physicality.
When Olivia finally reaches the ball, like her dress, she doesn't quite fit. Lehmann uses her character’s attitudes and experiences at the ball to present a vivid, surprisingly complex set piece. Carefully building on the preceding sections, she constructs a powerful critique of a fractured England, together with a forceful indictment of her era’s feminine ideals. Lehmann’s prose and structure falter at times, there are awkward, overwritten passages, it's slightly over-ambitious, but still this is a striking book. I expected a fairly predictable, straightforward bildungsroman but what I got was an affecting, fascinating portrait of a post-war generation.
As Olivia walks to and from her dressmaker in the local village, there’s an atmosphere of foreboding, suggested via the women Lehmann highlights: the dressmaker, a garrulous, lonely spinster daydreaming about the local farm-worker she rejected because of his lower class; the Cartwright boys’ perpetually-pregnant mother; the Major’s wife an outcast for her past divorces; and the impoverished gentlewomen desperate to supplement dwindling incomes. There are no shining examples here of the lives Olivia and Kate hope for, even their sensible mother’s happiness is uncertain. Lehmann’s England’s a harsh place, women’s positions are precarious, social conventions are rigid, class is central, wealth is crucial and the Curtis’s position’s a liminal one at best. The men around them are either aging or very young, reminder of the impact of war, underlined by Olivia’s preoccupation with loss and death and the sisters’ frantic search for any possible escort.
Stories of the transition from childhood to adult typically deal in questions of knowledge, Lehmann’s is no different. Lehmann draws on a blend of conventional and modernist styles, providing direct access to Olivia’s perspective, her thoughts and feelings. Olivia’s sensitive, acutely observant but sheltered, villagers’ gossip hints at the realities of relationships between men and women but even the copies of Shakespeare handed out in a local group are censored. It’s an environment in which so much is unspoken, repressed or denied, Olivia has no framework for interpreting what she encounters: her fumbling uncle and the over-attentive Major make her uneasy but she’s not sure why. Although she also has a defiant, questioning streak, as conflicted about the trappings of womanhood embraced by Kate, as she is about her own physicality.
When Olivia finally reaches the ball, like her dress, she doesn't quite fit. Lehmann uses her character’s attitudes and experiences at the ball to present a vivid, surprisingly complex set piece. Carefully building on the preceding sections, she constructs a powerful critique of a fractured England, together with a forceful indictment of her era’s feminine ideals. Lehmann’s prose and structure falter at times, there are awkward, overwritten passages, it's slightly over-ambitious, but still this is a striking book. I expected a fairly predictable, straightforward bildungsroman but what I got was an affecting, fascinating portrait of a post-war generation.
Read
January 8, 2019This novel contains a mix of light, deft sketching of scenes, and yet manages to portray a great depth of feeling. It revolves around two sisters, Kate and Olivia, and begins with the morning of Olivia’s seventeenth birthday, involves their anticipation of going to a dance a week later, and finishes the day after the great event.
For great event this is, particularly for Olivia, for whom it is the first dance she goes to. This novel may be set in a different period, but imagine that first school disco, or first party, and it will throw you right back to that age and sense of confused emotions. The worry about what to wear (the scene where Olivia first puts on her, much anticipated, new dress is wonderfully done), the sisters remembrance of boys they had met and whether they will be at the dance, and, if so, whether they will dance with them, the desperate concern to come up with a partner, the worry about being a wallflower, the overflowing emotions, all spill out onto the page…
I have never read Rosamond Lehmann before, and cannot believe it has taken me this long to come into acquaintance with her. As a portrait of young girls, on the cusp of womanhood; uncovering disappointments, sensing their power, understanding how they are viewed by others, this is an excellent read. I look forward to meeting Olivia Curtis again in, “The Weather in the Streets,” in which she appears ten years after we are introduced to her, and to discovering more about Lehmann and her work.
For great event this is, particularly for Olivia, for whom it is the first dance she goes to. This novel may be set in a different period, but imagine that first school disco, or first party, and it will throw you right back to that age and sense of confused emotions. The worry about what to wear (the scene where Olivia first puts on her, much anticipated, new dress is wonderfully done), the sisters remembrance of boys they had met and whether they will be at the dance, and, if so, whether they will dance with them, the desperate concern to come up with a partner, the worry about being a wallflower, the overflowing emotions, all spill out onto the page…
I have never read Rosamond Lehmann before, and cannot believe it has taken me this long to come into acquaintance with her. As a portrait of young girls, on the cusp of womanhood; uncovering disappointments, sensing their power, understanding how they are viewed by others, this is an excellent read. I look forward to meeting Olivia Curtis again in, “The Weather in the Streets,” in which she appears ten years after we are introduced to her, and to discovering more about Lehmann and her work.
November 10, 2024
Vrlo topao engleski roman iz 1932. godine o ustrepteloj mladalačkoj nesigurnosti i poletnosti. Jedno od književnih ostvarenja čija te lepršavost ubedi da je pisanje lako, a zapravo iza nje leži težina prave mere u svemu. Strukturom čvrst, roman je podeljen na dva dela koja obuhvataju dva dana iz života Olivije Kertis, sedamnaestogodišnje provincijalke iz srednje klase: prvi dan prikazuje njen rođendan, a drugi, nedelju dana kasnije, njen prvi bal na gospodskom imanju, gde se Olivija po prvi put predstavlja društvu.
Glavna junakinja je presimpatična i prava mila i srčana guskica, kakve su često deca sanjari, te je i svetonazor odlikovan slatkom empatijom, ali je čitaocu sasvim jasno predočeno na toliko mesta da se Olivija susreće sa svetom koji je pun i opakosti i pakosti i razočarenja i velike tuge u drugim ljudima (plus dosta matorih muškaraca koji se nude da se druže). Narativni svet se gradi oslanjanjem na modernističke tehnike, elemente toka svesti i poigravanjem sa fokalizacijom. Ipak, većim delom tekst ostaje uronjen u lirizovani realizam.
Poređenje sa Virdžinijom Vulf su neizbežna, i zbog trenutaka “moment of beings” u naraciji i zbog toga što je Rosamund Leman bila, ako ne baš u najužem krugu Blumbsberijavaca, a onda prečesto u njihovom društvu da bi se to zanemarilo. Uticaj je prisutan, ali, kao što napisah, nije reč o modernizmu u zamahu. Više podseća na prozu Ketrin Mensfild, još jedne moje mezimice. Čak i tematski podseća na pojedine priče Mensfildove, poput "Prijema u bašti" i "Prvoga bala".
Iako roman opisuje daleku kulturu iz prošlosti (nije reč o žurki, već o balskoj večeri gde se u sveščicu zapisuje kada i s kim treba plesati valcer ili fokstrot), retko sam naišao na delo koje tako uverljivo i realno prikazuje smenu različitih osećanja kroz koja mlado biće prolazi pri prvim izlascima: od velikog uzbuđenja i zbunjenosti, preko želje za begom i preispitivanja “šta mi je ovo trebalo?”, pa do fasciniranosti, začudnosti, blama i onih malih unutrašnjih drama kada se pitamo kako to da svi razgovaraju s lakoćom, a meni jednostavno ne ide. I tako se emocije smenjuju, jedna za drugom a na kraju noći budemo preispunjeni novim iskustvom - gotovo ritualno incijacijskim.
Glavna junakinja je presimpatična i prava mila i srčana guskica, kakve su često deca sanjari, te je i svetonazor odlikovan slatkom empatijom, ali je čitaocu sasvim jasno predočeno na toliko mesta da se Olivija susreće sa svetom koji je pun i opakosti i pakosti i razočarenja i velike tuge u drugim ljudima (plus dosta matorih muškaraca koji se nude da se druže). Narativni svet se gradi oslanjanjem na modernističke tehnike, elemente toka svesti i poigravanjem sa fokalizacijom. Ipak, većim delom tekst ostaje uronjen u lirizovani realizam.
Poređenje sa Virdžinijom Vulf su neizbežna, i zbog trenutaka “moment of beings” u naraciji i zbog toga što je Rosamund Leman bila, ako ne baš u najužem krugu Blumbsberijavaca, a onda prečesto u njihovom društvu da bi se to zanemarilo. Uticaj je prisutan, ali, kao što napisah, nije reč o modernizmu u zamahu. Više podseća na prozu Ketrin Mensfild, još jedne moje mezimice. Čak i tematski podseća na pojedine priče Mensfildove, poput "Prijema u bašti" i "Prvoga bala".
Iako roman opisuje daleku kulturu iz prošlosti (nije reč o žurki, već o balskoj večeri gde se u sveščicu zapisuje kada i s kim treba plesati valcer ili fokstrot), retko sam naišao na delo koje tako uverljivo i realno prikazuje smenu različitih osećanja kroz koja mlado biće prolazi pri prvim izlascima: od velikog uzbuđenja i zbunjenosti, preko želje za begom i preispitivanja “šta mi je ovo trebalo?”, pa do fasciniranosti, začudnosti, blama i onih malih unutrašnjih drama kada se pitamo kako to da svi razgovaraju s lakoćom, a meni jednostavno ne ide. I tako se emocije smenjuju, jedna za drugom a na kraju noći budemo preispunjeni novim iskustvom - gotovo ritualno incijacijskim.
November 14, 2020
Mr Charles Curtis, eldest son, rode there and back upon a grey mare, day in, day out, during the prolonged period of his prime; at the last, clad in lavender-grey frock-coat and top-hat, every inch Mayor of Tulverton, he brimmed daily to and from the office within the dignified compass of a brougham. Moving with the times, his son Charles James covered the distance upon a bicycle. Perhaps his only son James Charles will drive there in a motor car. But times are changing. It is the year 1920; and James, last fruit of a late marriage, is but seven years old.
Earlier this year I picked up The Weather in the Streets not knowing that it was a sequel to Invitation to the Waltz. Having loved my first encounter of Rosamond Lehmann’s writing, I decided to give Invitation to the Waltz a chance, too.
This is where we first meet Olivia Curtis. It is the morning of Olivia’s 17th birthday and it is a quarter to nine:
Another five minutes, thought Olivia, and shut her eyes. Not to fall asleep again; but to go back as it were and do the thing gradually – detach oneself softly, float up serenely from the clinging delectable fringes. Oh, heavenly sleep! Why must one cast it from one, all unprepared, unwilling? Caught out again by Kate in the very act! You’re not trying, you could wake up if you wanted to: that was their attitude. And regularly one began the day convicted of inferiority, of a sluggish voluptuous nature, seriously lacking in will-power. After I’m married I shall stay in bed as long as I want to. Girls often marry at my age. Seventeen to-day.
I was hesitant about Invitation to the Waltz because I feared that I would not enjoy the book. I dislike coming-of-age stories and detest romance novels, and Invitation to the Waltz looked like it might combine the two.
The cover is horrible because it makes the book look like an average chick-lit read that I could not possibly take seriously.
Besides, I had already read the sequel and knew what was going to happen to the main character.
The cover does Lehmann a disservice. And I take back every doubt and every hesitation I may have ever had about this book.
Invitation to the Waltz was charming and funny and sincere.
What this story really was, was a Jane Austen novel set in modern times (The books was published in 1932 but the story is set in 1920). And to my surprise, one of the feared plots never even came to pass!
I loved seeing Olivia as a teenager and finding out where she came from. The interaction between her and the other characters was fantastic. I really felt for her and her sister, especially when they get to the dance.
The Weather in the Streets is set 10 years after this one and a lot more grown up, but it takes up some of the thougths that are alluded to in Invitation to the Waltz. I say alluded to because that is all that Lehmann could do when writing about a 17-year-old girl, who’s just gone to her first dance and has just met her first drunk person.
For all her awareness of the world around her, Olivia doesn't have the experience to fully understand it. I loved how Lehmann chose the perfect level of detail to write the young woman's perspective, and how this changes in the second book.
Both Invitation and Weather are fun but are very different.
What is even better is that I really enjoyed the other characters and the way that Lehmann wrote this story of Olivia’s first dance without getting sucked into the inner life a 17-year-old. Sure, there are some insecurities and naiveties, but Olivia is very circumspect in her observations of people, and she is very kind and honest towards the people she interacts with. I think she would have been fun to know.
And, of course, we also meet Rollo:
“Do dance with Rollo! … Rollo superb in his pink coat, tall, ruddy, chestnut-haired, commanding, surrounded by his companions, every inch the only son of the house … But one let oneself be beguiled.”
It confirms my impression from reading The Weather in the Streets that Rosamond Lehmann was a fab writer and that I must read her other books.
They were so kind. This was what real people were like after all, just as she had always imagined; not sinister, inexplicable, but friendly and simple, accepting one pleasantly, with humour but without malice, without condescension, criticism or caresses. How extraordinary to be here with them; from being outcast, flung beyond the furthest rim, to have penetrated suddenly to the innermost core of the house, to be in their home. The dancing, the people beyond were nothing, a froth on the surface, soon to be blown away. This, that she felt as she stood between them, was the reality about the house: kindness, tolerance, courtesy, family pride and affection.
Earlier this year I picked up The Weather in the Streets not knowing that it was a sequel to Invitation to the Waltz. Having loved my first encounter of Rosamond Lehmann’s writing, I decided to give Invitation to the Waltz a chance, too.
This is where we first meet Olivia Curtis. It is the morning of Olivia’s 17th birthday and it is a quarter to nine:
Another five minutes, thought Olivia, and shut her eyes. Not to fall asleep again; but to go back as it were and do the thing gradually – detach oneself softly, float up serenely from the clinging delectable fringes. Oh, heavenly sleep! Why must one cast it from one, all unprepared, unwilling? Caught out again by Kate in the very act! You’re not trying, you could wake up if you wanted to: that was their attitude. And regularly one began the day convicted of inferiority, of a sluggish voluptuous nature, seriously lacking in will-power. After I’m married I shall stay in bed as long as I want to. Girls often marry at my age. Seventeen to-day.
I was hesitant about Invitation to the Waltz because I feared that I would not enjoy the book. I dislike coming-of-age stories and detest romance novels, and Invitation to the Waltz looked like it might combine the two.
The cover is horrible because it makes the book look like an average chick-lit read that I could not possibly take seriously.
Besides, I had already read the sequel and knew what was going to happen to the main character.
The cover does Lehmann a disservice. And I take back every doubt and every hesitation I may have ever had about this book.
Invitation to the Waltz was charming and funny and sincere.
What this story really was, was a Jane Austen novel set in modern times (The books was published in 1932 but the story is set in 1920). And to my surprise, one of the feared plots never even came to pass!
I loved seeing Olivia as a teenager and finding out where she came from. The interaction between her and the other characters was fantastic. I really felt for her and her sister, especially when they get to the dance.
The Weather in the Streets is set 10 years after this one and a lot more grown up, but it takes up some of the thougths that are alluded to in Invitation to the Waltz. I say alluded to because that is all that Lehmann could do when writing about a 17-year-old girl, who’s just gone to her first dance and has just met her first drunk person.
For all her awareness of the world around her, Olivia doesn't have the experience to fully understand it. I loved how Lehmann chose the perfect level of detail to write the young woman's perspective, and how this changes in the second book.
Both Invitation and Weather are fun but are very different.
What is even better is that I really enjoyed the other characters and the way that Lehmann wrote this story of Olivia’s first dance without getting sucked into the inner life a 17-year-old. Sure, there are some insecurities and naiveties, but Olivia is very circumspect in her observations of people, and she is very kind and honest towards the people she interacts with. I think she would have been fun to know.
And, of course, we also meet Rollo:
“Do dance with Rollo! … Rollo superb in his pink coat, tall, ruddy, chestnut-haired, commanding, surrounded by his companions, every inch the only son of the house … But one let oneself be beguiled.”
It confirms my impression from reading The Weather in the Streets that Rosamond Lehmann was a fab writer and that I must read her other books.
They were so kind. This was what real people were like after all, just as she had always imagined; not sinister, inexplicable, but friendly and simple, accepting one pleasantly, with humour but without malice, without condescension, criticism or caresses. How extraordinary to be here with them; from being outcast, flung beyond the furthest rim, to have penetrated suddenly to the innermost core of the house, to be in their home. The dancing, the people beyond were nothing, a froth on the surface, soon to be blown away. This, that she felt as she stood between them, was the reality about the house: kindness, tolerance, courtesy, family pride and affection.
Read
July 26, 2024 O meu décimo sétimo aniversário. Resolvi manter um registo dos meus pensamentos íntimos. Talvez isso me ajude a descobrir como sou realmente: horrível, eu sei: egoísta, convencida e materialista. Por exemplo, ultimamente sempre que tento concentrar-me em algo sério ou belo, começo mas é a pensar no baile dos Spencers na próxima semana. Tenho vergonha da minha mesquinhez. Vou tentar fazer melhor este ano - desenvolver mais o meu carácter e não estar sempre a pensar em me divertir. Tenho sido sempre tão feliz que receio muitíssimo o desapontamento e a infelicidade, mas eles far-me-iam bem. Mas eu não os quero.
Se Rosamond Lehmann mantém o estilo etéreo e melancólico deste livro em todas as obras (e as primeiras páginas do segundo volume da série Olivia Curtis assim o indicam), estas são características muito especiais a associar a uma autora que caminha algures entre a técnica mais tradicionalista do romance britânico e o bildungsroman psicológico e moral. E a novela Convite para a valsa é um exemplo perfeito dessa conjugação de correntes, oferecendo um misto de vinhetas, recortes e narrativa longa de pendor introspetivo e humanizado sempre a resvalar entre a tradição romântica e a germânica.
No centro da história está Olivia, o seu décimo sétimo aniversário e o primeiro baile como debutante numa sociedade elitista e fechada que ainda obedece a preceitos morais rígidos:
Apagaram as luzes e foram para cima. A porta do seu quarto, Mrs. Curtis beijou Olivia e deu-lhe uma palmadinha no ombro.
- Boa noite, minha filhinha grande.
E assim o moribundo dia do aniversário foi gentilmente sugerido, flutuou por um momento e expirou.
E se isto é demasiado simples, tal qual a vida, aquilo que é simples rapidamente se complexifica. Deste dia, e apesar das condicionantes impostas pelo meio, nasce a consciência de finitude (um marco simbólico da idade adulta)...
Sentiu-se assustada, vendo vistas sombrias abrirem-se diante dela. Vinte e sete, trinta. Céus, a juventude teria passado. Era inimaginável. Que queria ele dizer? Apesar das voltas obscuras e ambíguas do seu discurso, ela sentiu o significado que se ocultava nele: uma profecia de mudança, de erros, de estar sozinha e não feliz, demasiado para aguentar.
...e nascem pequenas rivalidades inconsequentes alimentadas por um meio leviano e frívolo para o qual o sentido da vida não sobrevive fora de portas dos salões (um elemento que prende a protagonista à juventude):
Encostaram-se à parede e ficaram lado a lado, observando os pares a revolutear com animadas expressões de interesse forçado. Não se podiam separar até alguém vir separá-las, mas sentiam que se odiavam uma à outra.
Nos dias que seguem, nasce também o primeiro desgosto e a primeira deceção com a crueza da realidade - a marcar o colorido de uma adolescência que se aproxima do fim:
A [dança] número 19 tinha acabado. Archie continuava de pé no corredor, logo à saída da sala, olhando lá para dentro. (...) Primeiro parecera que ele estava à espera, com uma pontualidade gratificante. Mas estavam a bater palmas para o primeiro encore e ele continuava ali de pé. Com certeza que ele a tinha visto. O seu olhar, vago e apressado, pousara nela um instante e passara adiante. Parecera não a reconhecer. Ela deslocou-se para uma posição onde pudesse ser mais notada. Primeiro sentou-se, depois levantou-se e encostou-se à parede. Observou-o, em pânico, sem parecer observá-lo. As batidas do seu coração tornaram-se tão sonoras e tão rápidas que pensou que ia sufocar. Depois do segundo encore saiu do salão para o corredor, passando mesmo junto a ele. Archie deitou-lhe um relance inexpressivo. Ele tinha de ter trocado o número, tinha de ser. E era impossível ir ter com ele por causa de todos os outros. Isto não pode ser verdade. É demasiado para se conseguir suportar. Como posso eu viver se me vão acontecer coisas como esta? Nunca pensei que ele se enganasse...ou esquecesse... ou ignorasse. Tal nunca me ocorreu. O que devo fazer?
Enquanto o 17° aniversário marca o despertar intelectual de Olivia, as poucas horas vividas no baile marcam o seu amadurecimento emocional, o aceitar da vida como ela se oferece - com um glamour superficial, com um verniz tão fino que lasca. De súbito, uma realidade que parece cor de rosa...
Afinal era assim que as pessoas reais eram, tal como ela sempre imaginara; não sinistras, inexplicáveis, mas simpáticas e simples, aceitando uma pessoa agradavelmente, com humor mas sem malicia, sem condescendência, crítica ou carícias. Como era extraordinário estar ali com eles. Passar da posição de marginalizada, arremessada para lá da borda mais afastada, a penetrar de repente no mais profundo âmago da casa, a estar no lar deles. O baile, as pessoas do outro lado não eram nada, uma espuma à superficie que o vento logo varreria, Isto, o que ela sentia enquanto se encontrava de pé entre eles, era a realidade da casa: amabilidade, tolerância, cortesia, orgulho de família e afecto.
...revela-se de matizes muito escuros, com vários aspectos ocultos debaixo da polidez superficial:
Que coisa chocante... Que tremenda má peça ele devia ser apesar do seu fascínio completamente arruinado. E pensar que fui até lá falar com ele, sem me aperceber... Sentiu-se invadida pela vergonha ao pensar nisso. Então é assim que as pessoas ficam quando estão embriagadas. (Seria possível que Peter também...?) Que sorte a Tia Blanche, a sua pobre mãe, ter ido deitar-se e ser assim poupada àquela visão vergonhosa.
Recheado de reflexões doces e de vários elementos de introspecção, fazendo uso da corrente de consciência e de um/a narrador/a omnisciente, Convite para a valsa é uma janela que se abre para a vida interior, para a juventude e o crescimento, e um mimo cheio de luz e leveza que termina numa muito perspicaz interpretação da expressão simbólica da vida, da transição para a idade adulta e do discernimento que forçosamente acompanha uma jornada de crescimento:
Olivia saiu para o jardim. Desceu apressadamente o relvado, passou a nogueira sem parar para se baloiçar(...). Quando chegou à horta começou a correr.(...) Está tudo a mudar, está tudo diferente. Correu o mais depressa que podia pelo caminho abaixo e saiu o portão entrando nos campos. Um faisão irrompeu das árvores e estremeceu no ar, fazendo soar o seu rouco mecanismo de alarme. Ela correu pela turfa irregular e húmida. Sou deixada para trás, mas não me importo. Eu também tenho muito em que pensar. (...)
Lá vinha ele, através de campos lavrados e terras incultas. As gralhas-calvas cintilaram vivamente, a lebre e a sua sombra desviaram-se à súbita luz do sol. Dentro de um instante estaria em toda a parte. Ei-lo. Olivia precipitou-se para ele.
Se Rosamond Lehmann mantém o estilo etéreo e melancólico deste livro em todas as obras (e as primeiras páginas do segundo volume da série Olivia Curtis assim o indicam), estas são características muito especiais a associar a uma autora que caminha algures entre a técnica mais tradicionalista do romance britânico e o bildungsroman psicológico e moral. E a novela Convite para a valsa é um exemplo perfeito dessa conjugação de correntes, oferecendo um misto de vinhetas, recortes e narrativa longa de pendor introspetivo e humanizado sempre a resvalar entre a tradição romântica e a germânica.
No centro da história está Olivia, o seu décimo sétimo aniversário e o primeiro baile como debutante numa sociedade elitista e fechada que ainda obedece a preceitos morais rígidos:
Apagaram as luzes e foram para cima. A porta do seu quarto, Mrs. Curtis beijou Olivia e deu-lhe uma palmadinha no ombro.
- Boa noite, minha filhinha grande.
E assim o moribundo dia do aniversário foi gentilmente sugerido, flutuou por um momento e expirou.
E se isto é demasiado simples, tal qual a vida, aquilo que é simples rapidamente se complexifica. Deste dia, e apesar das condicionantes impostas pelo meio, nasce a consciência de finitude (um marco simbólico da idade adulta)...
Sentiu-se assustada, vendo vistas sombrias abrirem-se diante dela. Vinte e sete, trinta. Céus, a juventude teria passado. Era inimaginável. Que queria ele dizer? Apesar das voltas obscuras e ambíguas do seu discurso, ela sentiu o significado que se ocultava nele: uma profecia de mudança, de erros, de estar sozinha e não feliz, demasiado para aguentar.
...e nascem pequenas rivalidades inconsequentes alimentadas por um meio leviano e frívolo para o qual o sentido da vida não sobrevive fora de portas dos salões (um elemento que prende a protagonista à juventude):
Encostaram-se à parede e ficaram lado a lado, observando os pares a revolutear com animadas expressões de interesse forçado. Não se podiam separar até alguém vir separá-las, mas sentiam que se odiavam uma à outra.
Nos dias que seguem, nasce também o primeiro desgosto e a primeira deceção com a crueza da realidade - a marcar o colorido de uma adolescência que se aproxima do fim:
A [dança] número 19 tinha acabado. Archie continuava de pé no corredor, logo à saída da sala, olhando lá para dentro. (...) Primeiro parecera que ele estava à espera, com uma pontualidade gratificante. Mas estavam a bater palmas para o primeiro encore e ele continuava ali de pé. Com certeza que ele a tinha visto. O seu olhar, vago e apressado, pousara nela um instante e passara adiante. Parecera não a reconhecer. Ela deslocou-se para uma posição onde pudesse ser mais notada. Primeiro sentou-se, depois levantou-se e encostou-se à parede. Observou-o, em pânico, sem parecer observá-lo. As batidas do seu coração tornaram-se tão sonoras e tão rápidas que pensou que ia sufocar. Depois do segundo encore saiu do salão para o corredor, passando mesmo junto a ele. Archie deitou-lhe um relance inexpressivo. Ele tinha de ter trocado o número, tinha de ser. E era impossível ir ter com ele por causa de todos os outros. Isto não pode ser verdade. É demasiado para se conseguir suportar. Como posso eu viver se me vão acontecer coisas como esta? Nunca pensei que ele se enganasse...ou esquecesse... ou ignorasse. Tal nunca me ocorreu. O que devo fazer?
Enquanto o 17° aniversário marca o despertar intelectual de Olivia, as poucas horas vividas no baile marcam o seu amadurecimento emocional, o aceitar da vida como ela se oferece - com um glamour superficial, com um verniz tão fino que lasca. De súbito, uma realidade que parece cor de rosa...
Afinal era assim que as pessoas reais eram, tal como ela sempre imaginara; não sinistras, inexplicáveis, mas simpáticas e simples, aceitando uma pessoa agradavelmente, com humor mas sem malicia, sem condescendência, crítica ou carícias. Como era extraordinário estar ali com eles. Passar da posição de marginalizada, arremessada para lá da borda mais afastada, a penetrar de repente no mais profundo âmago da casa, a estar no lar deles. O baile, as pessoas do outro lado não eram nada, uma espuma à superficie que o vento logo varreria, Isto, o que ela sentia enquanto se encontrava de pé entre eles, era a realidade da casa: amabilidade, tolerância, cortesia, orgulho de família e afecto.
...revela-se de matizes muito escuros, com vários aspectos ocultos debaixo da polidez superficial:
Que coisa chocante... Que tremenda má peça ele devia ser apesar do seu fascínio completamente arruinado. E pensar que fui até lá falar com ele, sem me aperceber... Sentiu-se invadida pela vergonha ao pensar nisso. Então é assim que as pessoas ficam quando estão embriagadas. (Seria possível que Peter também...?) Que sorte a Tia Blanche, a sua pobre mãe, ter ido deitar-se e ser assim poupada àquela visão vergonhosa.
Recheado de reflexões doces e de vários elementos de introspecção, fazendo uso da corrente de consciência e de um/a narrador/a omnisciente, Convite para a valsa é uma janela que se abre para a vida interior, para a juventude e o crescimento, e um mimo cheio de luz e leveza que termina numa muito perspicaz interpretação da expressão simbólica da vida, da transição para a idade adulta e do discernimento que forçosamente acompanha uma jornada de crescimento:
Olivia saiu para o jardim. Desceu apressadamente o relvado, passou a nogueira sem parar para se baloiçar(...). Quando chegou à horta começou a correr.(...) Está tudo a mudar, está tudo diferente. Correu o mais depressa que podia pelo caminho abaixo e saiu o portão entrando nos campos. Um faisão irrompeu das árvores e estremeceu no ar, fazendo soar o seu rouco mecanismo de alarme. Ela correu pela turfa irregular e húmida. Sou deixada para trás, mas não me importo. Eu também tenho muito em que pensar. (...)
Lá vinha ele, através de campos lavrados e terras incultas. As gralhas-calvas cintilaram vivamente, a lebre e a sua sombra desviaram-se à súbita luz do sol. Dentro de um instante estaria em toda a parte. Ei-lo. Olivia precipitou-se para ele.
Want to read
January 28, 2026new author unlocked via near to the wild heart introduction thank you
September 19, 2015
Description: A diary for her innermost thoughts, a china ornament, a ten-shilling note, and a roll of flame-coloured silk for her first evening dress—these are the gifts Olivia Curtis receives for her 17th birthday. She anticipates her first dance, the greatest yet most terrifying event of her restricted social life, with tremulous uncertainty and excitement. For her pretty, charming elder sister Kate, the dance is certain to be a triumph, but what will it be for shy, awkward Olivia? Exploring the daydreams and miseries attendant upon even the most innocent of social events, Rosamond Lehmann perfectly captures the emotions of a girl standing poised on the threshold of womanhood
Opening: The village, in the hollow below the house, is picturesque, unhygienic: it has more atmosphere than form, than out line: huddled shapes of soft red brick sag towards gardens massed with sunflowers, Canterbury bells, sweet williams.
Sometimes it is perfect to hunker down into the flannelette-esque comfort of a plotless prose that displays such beauty.
NB I read to my dog and she particularly liked my rendition of the little Wainwrights chorusing 'Yaas'. Hilarious.
3* Invitation to the Waltz
CR The Weather in the Streets
3* Dusty Answer
4* The Echoing Grove
Opening: The village, in the hollow below the house, is picturesque, unhygienic: it has more atmosphere than form, than out line: huddled shapes of soft red brick sag towards gardens massed with sunflowers, Canterbury bells, sweet williams.
Sometimes it is perfect to hunker down into the flannelette-esque comfort of a plotless prose that displays such beauty.'Oh nature, Oh nature, with all thy powers
What dost thou do through the long winter hours?
I love thee, oh nature, so sweet and so good,
But where does thou get thy winter food?'
NB I read to my dog and she particularly liked my rendition of the little Wainwrights chorusing 'Yaas'. Hilarious.
3* Invitation to the Waltz
CR The Weather in the Streets
3* Dusty Answer
4* The Echoing Grove
July 3, 2016
Rosamond Lehman makes me realise how much Virginia Woolf had to say. How courageously she plumbed the depths of the human soul. Because Lehman whose style echoes Woolf’s and would have been impossible without Woolf as a mentor, can write beautifully but operates on an altogether more superficial level to Woolf. Not that this observation is meant to belittle Lehman’s talent; just put it into perspective. There’s a lovely deft sketchiness to Lehman’s style but it’s like watercolour in contrast to Woolf’s grounded pigments.
Most of this novel takes place at the waltz of the title and Lehman does a fabulous job of capturing the nuances of aspiration and insecurity, of competiveness and kinship, of flight and suffocation in her young heroine, Olivia. As in Mrs Dalloway, the shadow of the war is present, stifling some of the bright light of the dance as Olivia meets a succession of men each of whom offers some kind of ghostly path into the future. You could though say that Lehman goes no further than the reflections on the water as beautifully and insightfully as she paints them, whereas Woolf goes under the water and brings forth a whole new underlife.
Most of this novel takes place at the waltz of the title and Lehman does a fabulous job of capturing the nuances of aspiration and insecurity, of competiveness and kinship, of flight and suffocation in her young heroine, Olivia. As in Mrs Dalloway, the shadow of the war is present, stifling some of the bright light of the dance as Olivia meets a succession of men each of whom offers some kind of ghostly path into the future. You could though say that Lehman goes no further than the reflections on the water as beautifully and insightfully as she paints them, whereas Woolf goes under the water and brings forth a whole new underlife.
January 22, 2021
"The debutante ball emerged as a family's way of announcing that their daughter was of marriageable age and good breeding. While Queen Elizabeth II discontinued her support of the balls in England back in 1958, they still occur in the United States." (Source: Wiki)
My mother despised the practice; it was forced upon her. She vowed never to force this upon me. I must have inherited an aversion---reading this short book raises my hackles!
The story covers two days in the lives of Olivia Curtis and her older sister Kate. The setting is the interwar years in a provincial English town. The first day is Olivia’s seventeenth birthday, in December 1920. She receives gorgeous cloth for a dress to be worn at her first ball a few days hence. The second day is the day of the debutante ball she and her sister attend. We see the girls’ preparations and the ball itself. The excitement in the air is palpable. Both girls have high expectations, but Olivia is also nervous and insecure.
I had a hard time relating. The grandeur of the ball, the pomposity and sense of entitlement of those attending the ball put me off. The girl’s preparations for the ball struck a false note. Olivia has not tried on the dress before the ball. She even puts it on backwards! What?! This does not make sense to me! They will attend the ball accompanied by their mother’s godson. They discover that he does not like dancing and that he is a curate! That so much is carefully planned and yet this is not known is ridiculous.
At the ball I warmed to the tale—somewhat. The empty, raucous talk is maybe not pleasant to listen to, but what is drawn is accurate. Crass jokes, drunken behavior and superficiality abound. As the evening draws to the end, we do meet a recluse or two--those who attend because they must but do not enjoy such gatherings. Their presence offers relief and add to the credibility of the situation drawn.
Attending the ball has introduced Olivia to an adult world she knew little of before—an awakening, a step toward maturity. In 1920 were upper-class seventeen-year-olds so immature? Maybe.
The prose is a mix of dialogue, straightforward narrative and stream of consciousness. Sentences such as the following do not attract me:
“Thus, the dying birthday was gently breathed on, flickered up for a moment and expired.”
“She felt a faint inward contraction. These words still had power to awaken an echo of fear, like an old half-forgotten threat resuscitated, potent no longer, yet ill-sounding.”
The language is often intended to sound deep and meaningful, but I found it pretentious.
Similies are weak. Maybe the following one speaks to you more than it does to me:
“His mouth shut as the two halves of a muffin.”
“Take care! Mother will have kittens!” is what the sisters repeatedly say to each other when they believe their mother will become annoyed. Does this make you smile? For me it is just silly and is repeated too often.
Joanna Lumley narrates the audiobook. She sounds very, very English, which one could say is appropriate for the tale being told. She dramatizes more than I like. At the ball, the voices may be accurately performed but many are disagreeable to listen to. Words are not spoken clearly. Do I like the narration? No! Thus, I cannot give it three stars. Two stars is the highest I can go.
Nope, this book fell flat for me. It does draw debutante balls accurately.
****************************
*Invitation to the Waltz 2 stars
*Dusty Answer maybe
My mother despised the practice; it was forced upon her. She vowed never to force this upon me. I must have inherited an aversion---reading this short book raises my hackles!
The story covers two days in the lives of Olivia Curtis and her older sister Kate. The setting is the interwar years in a provincial English town. The first day is Olivia’s seventeenth birthday, in December 1920. She receives gorgeous cloth for a dress to be worn at her first ball a few days hence. The second day is the day of the debutante ball she and her sister attend. We see the girls’ preparations and the ball itself. The excitement in the air is palpable. Both girls have high expectations, but Olivia is also nervous and insecure.
I had a hard time relating. The grandeur of the ball, the pomposity and sense of entitlement of those attending the ball put me off. The girl’s preparations for the ball struck a false note. Olivia has not tried on the dress before the ball. She even puts it on backwards! What?! This does not make sense to me! They will attend the ball accompanied by their mother’s godson. They discover that he does not like dancing and that he is a curate! That so much is carefully planned and yet this is not known is ridiculous.
At the ball I warmed to the tale—somewhat. The empty, raucous talk is maybe not pleasant to listen to, but what is drawn is accurate. Crass jokes, drunken behavior and superficiality abound. As the evening draws to the end, we do meet a recluse or two--those who attend because they must but do not enjoy such gatherings. Their presence offers relief and add to the credibility of the situation drawn.
Attending the ball has introduced Olivia to an adult world she knew little of before—an awakening, a step toward maturity. In 1920 were upper-class seventeen-year-olds so immature? Maybe.
The prose is a mix of dialogue, straightforward narrative and stream of consciousness. Sentences such as the following do not attract me:
“Thus, the dying birthday was gently breathed on, flickered up for a moment and expired.”
“She felt a faint inward contraction. These words still had power to awaken an echo of fear, like an old half-forgotten threat resuscitated, potent no longer, yet ill-sounding.”
The language is often intended to sound deep and meaningful, but I found it pretentious.
Similies are weak. Maybe the following one speaks to you more than it does to me:
“His mouth shut as the two halves of a muffin.”
“Take care! Mother will have kittens!” is what the sisters repeatedly say to each other when they believe their mother will become annoyed. Does this make you smile? For me it is just silly and is repeated too often.
Joanna Lumley narrates the audiobook. She sounds very, very English, which one could say is appropriate for the tale being told. She dramatizes more than I like. At the ball, the voices may be accurately performed but many are disagreeable to listen to. Words are not spoken clearly. Do I like the narration? No! Thus, I cannot give it three stars. Two stars is the highest I can go.
Nope, this book fell flat for me. It does draw debutante balls accurately.
****************************
*Invitation to the Waltz 2 stars
*Dusty Answer maybe
May 30, 2021
What a delightful read! I came across this book due to comparisons with I Capture the Castle, another wonderful coming-of-age book and a favorite of mine.
Invitation to the Waltz is told from the POV of Olivia, 17 year old protagonist, who has been invited to her first dance. The first half covers the morning of her birthday, and the preparations for the dance. The second half is the dance itself. This book is definitely not for those who like plot-driven, action-packed or fast-paced novels. In fact, plot-wise hardly anything happens. So why the 5 stars? The characters, that's why. They are the most vibtant and memorable set of characters I have come across in any book. Though this book is mostly from Olivia's POV, we are also given a glimpse into Kate's - Olivia's beautiful older sister - POV as well. I loved Olivia! Overshadowed by her sister, Olivia often lacks confidence, is sometimes naive, and sometines extraordinarily mature for her age. The authors gives her readers a chance to see the world from Olivia's eyes. We experience her hopes, fears, sadness. I loved how Olivia is so awkward and scared about her first dance. She is often childish and then admonishes herself for being so. There are no end to the humourous moments. The experiences of our lovable heroine before and after the dance, and her often awkward encounters with different people are laced with hilarious moments. The author's beautiful prose makes these encounters and the people come alive.
The best part of the book is the dance itself. We get to see each new acquaintance through Olivia's eyes. Each meeting is described in detail, and each person leaves something to ponder upon, both for Olivia as well as the readers. Maurice, who is so kind; Archie, who is so charming yet snubs her; Peter, the overly sensitive poet; the handsome, enigmatic Rollo Spencer and so on. At the end of the dance, Olivia looks upon everything with a new maturity and insight. The naive young girl grows up.
The ending is a hopeful yet sad one, as Olivia realizes that one dance has changed everthing. Kate is no longer the same, and neither is she. One night has changed the dynamics of their relationship completely.
Invitation to the Waltz is a deeply satisfying read, recommended for fans of Jane Austen, Dodie Smith and Nancy Mitford.
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Literarianism
Invitation to the Waltz is told from the POV of Olivia, 17 year old protagonist, who has been invited to her first dance. The first half covers the morning of her birthday, and the preparations for the dance. The second half is the dance itself. This book is definitely not for those who like plot-driven, action-packed or fast-paced novels. In fact, plot-wise hardly anything happens. So why the 5 stars? The characters, that's why. They are the most vibtant and memorable set of characters I have come across in any book. Though this book is mostly from Olivia's POV, we are also given a glimpse into Kate's - Olivia's beautiful older sister - POV as well. I loved Olivia! Overshadowed by her sister, Olivia often lacks confidence, is sometimes naive, and sometines extraordinarily mature for her age. The authors gives her readers a chance to see the world from Olivia's eyes. We experience her hopes, fears, sadness. I loved how Olivia is so awkward and scared about her first dance. She is often childish and then admonishes herself for being so. There are no end to the humourous moments. The experiences of our lovable heroine before and after the dance, and her often awkward encounters with different people are laced with hilarious moments. The author's beautiful prose makes these encounters and the people come alive.
The best part of the book is the dance itself. We get to see each new acquaintance through Olivia's eyes. Each meeting is described in detail, and each person leaves something to ponder upon, both for Olivia as well as the readers. Maurice, who is so kind; Archie, who is so charming yet snubs her; Peter, the overly sensitive poet; the handsome, enigmatic Rollo Spencer and so on. At the end of the dance, Olivia looks upon everything with a new maturity and insight. The naive young girl grows up.
The ending is a hopeful yet sad one, as Olivia realizes that one dance has changed everthing. Kate is no longer the same, and neither is she. One night has changed the dynamics of their relationship completely.
Invitation to the Waltz is a deeply satisfying read, recommended for fans of Jane Austen, Dodie Smith and Nancy Mitford.
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Literarianism
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March 22, 2019“Still, now and then they seemed to be holding behind them the surprising, the magic vistas of childhood - the sudden snow at night, whirling and furring without sound against the window; the full moon and all its shadows on the lawn; the Christmas sleigh and reindeer in the sky.”
Once I started 'Invitation to the Waltz' I realised what all the fuss was about, and why Lehmann's books are praised so highly.
For Olivia Curtis's 17th birthday in rural England she is given among other things a roll of flame-coloured silk for her very first evening dress. She is about to be presented into the world of waltzes, society and suitors, and she has mixed feelings of trepidation and excitement., tottering on the cusp of becoming a real woman, mixed with wanting to stay safe and warm in her bedroom away from anything that can hurt her. Her brighter, more enthusiastic sister Kate believes the waltz will be a triumph. But who will fail and who will proposer?
I luckily have the sequel to this already in my TBR pile ('The Weather in the Streets') so I am most excited to start it. It is regarded by her grandson as her best work.
Once I started 'Invitation to the Waltz' I realised what all the fuss was about, and why Lehmann's books are praised so highly.
For Olivia Curtis's 17th birthday in rural England she is given among other things a roll of flame-coloured silk for her very first evening dress. She is about to be presented into the world of waltzes, society and suitors, and she has mixed feelings of trepidation and excitement., tottering on the cusp of becoming a real woman, mixed with wanting to stay safe and warm in her bedroom away from anything that can hurt her. Her brighter, more enthusiastic sister Kate believes the waltz will be a triumph. But who will fail and who will proposer?
I luckily have the sequel to this already in my TBR pile ('The Weather in the Streets') so I am most excited to start it. It is regarded by her grandson as her best work.
July 25, 2012
Upon first reading Invitation to the Waltz I thought it was a lively charming novel, which it is. This re-read of it however, has given me the chance to appreciate just how very good it is. First published in 1932, but set around 1920 Invitation to the Waltz is the story of a dance, seventeen year old Olivia's first ever, which she will attend with her beautiful older sister Kate. On the surface there isn’t much to the story at all. Olivia wakes to her seventeenth birthday, is given some marvellous scarlet fabric to have a dress made for the coming ball, a ten shilling note, a diary and an ugly ornament from her sweet little brother. Then there are the days leading up to the dance, the dress which must be made and the anticipated arrival of Reggie who will accompany them to the dance, and provide a possibly much needed partner for Olivia. Olivia and Kate's family comprises a socially aware mother an elderly father, odd Uncle Oswald, and endearingly sweet 7-year-old brother James. Olivia is a wonderful character – brought up to be polite, she is terrified of hurting people’s feeling, she is so overly conscious of herself as we so often are at that age – that her trials and agonies could belong to almost any young girl – even today.
“I want to do something absolutely different, or perhaps nothing at all: just stay where I am, in my home, and absorb each hour, each day, and be alone; and read and think; and walk about the garden in the night; and wait, wait...”
Then comes the evening of the party and the awful, exciting anticipation, of a longed for event. The flame coloured fabric that Olivia is given for her birthday has been made into a dress by local seamstress Miss Robinson, another wonderful creation from Rosamond Lehmann, as we are allowed a poignant glimpse of this sad woman’s life, her disappointments and inadequacies. The dress surprisingly not tried on in its finished form until the evening itself is inevitably a disappointment. The evening of the dance takes up three-quarters of the book with the people Olivia and Kate meet - especially Olivia, the conversations they have, and the feelings they awake in her. Olivia meets some interesting characters at the dance – a young blind man, a rather miserable poet as well as the son of the household Rollo Spencer.
“I’ve had a lot really, one way and another. What was it that, at last, had made almost a richness? Curious fragments odd and ends of looks, speeches…Nothing for myself really. Rollo leaving me to go to Nicola. Rollo and his father smiling at one another. Peter crying, saying “are you my friend?” Kate looking so happy…Waltzing with Timmy. Marigold flying downstairs to him. Yes, I can say I’ve enjoyed myself.”
The dance held for the effervescent Marigold Spencer – is both an excitement and an agony for Kate and Olivia. They just daughters of a middle-class businessman, while aristocratic Marigold and Rollo Spencer are from an altogether different world. A world of glamour, house parties, trips to London, fast cars and hunting. As they leave childhood behind them, they will inevitably become more separate from the glorious beings from the big house who they were once more equal to, as children. Rosamond Lehmann portrays the differences of class, and social position brilliantly in this novel. From the sad thirty-year-old dressmaker, aware she was too good to marry a bricklayer, left on the shelf and reduced to a life of tedium and ill health. To the sweep’s bedraggled little children, to the selfish, vain young things who arrive for the party, she has a brilliantly observing eye.
“I want to do something absolutely different, or perhaps nothing at all: just stay where I am, in my home, and absorb each hour, each day, and be alone; and read and think; and walk about the garden in the night; and wait, wait...”
Then comes the evening of the party and the awful, exciting anticipation, of a longed for event. The flame coloured fabric that Olivia is given for her birthday has been made into a dress by local seamstress Miss Robinson, another wonderful creation from Rosamond Lehmann, as we are allowed a poignant glimpse of this sad woman’s life, her disappointments and inadequacies. The dress surprisingly not tried on in its finished form until the evening itself is inevitably a disappointment. The evening of the dance takes up three-quarters of the book with the people Olivia and Kate meet - especially Olivia, the conversations they have, and the feelings they awake in her. Olivia meets some interesting characters at the dance – a young blind man, a rather miserable poet as well as the son of the household Rollo Spencer.
“I’ve had a lot really, one way and another. What was it that, at last, had made almost a richness? Curious fragments odd and ends of looks, speeches…Nothing for myself really. Rollo leaving me to go to Nicola. Rollo and his father smiling at one another. Peter crying, saying “are you my friend?” Kate looking so happy…Waltzing with Timmy. Marigold flying downstairs to him. Yes, I can say I’ve enjoyed myself.”
The dance held for the effervescent Marigold Spencer – is both an excitement and an agony for Kate and Olivia. They just daughters of a middle-class businessman, while aristocratic Marigold and Rollo Spencer are from an altogether different world. A world of glamour, house parties, trips to London, fast cars and hunting. As they leave childhood behind them, they will inevitably become more separate from the glorious beings from the big house who they were once more equal to, as children. Rosamond Lehmann portrays the differences of class, and social position brilliantly in this novel. From the sad thirty-year-old dressmaker, aware she was too good to marry a bricklayer, left on the shelf and reduced to a life of tedium and ill health. To the sweep’s bedraggled little children, to the selfish, vain young things who arrive for the party, she has a brilliantly observing eye.
January 26, 2019
Some things never grow old.
Is there a woman in the world who won’t recognise something of their younger selves in this book? Can there be a woman who does not remember her teenage years as a hideous time of acute embarrassment studded with moments so thrilling that they are almost as painful? And, as several other reviewers here have asked, ‘How has it taken me so long to discover this wonderful writer?” I am so grateful to the friend who suggested to me that I read Invitation to the Waltz.
A deceptively simple tale, it was written in 1930 and set in an English country village a decade earlier. It opens on the day of Olivia’s 17th birthday and tells through her eyes what life was like for a girl growing up in a stifling middle-class household where one’s behaviour has to be ‘just so’ and making an appropriate match is considered of the utmost importance.
Olivia is preparing to attend her first party accompanied by her older sister Kate and a drippy escort who’s been hastily rustled up for the occasion. The second half of the book describes the events of the party in excruciating detail; we can picture Olivia’s every tenuous encounter with the opposite sex with the utmost clarity and total empathy. As we leave the two sisters, they are poised to embark on their adult lives. The milieu here might have dated but the sentiments behind this story of transition and self-consciousness haven’t really changed one little bit. Great stuff.
Is there a woman in the world who won’t recognise something of their younger selves in this book? Can there be a woman who does not remember her teenage years as a hideous time of acute embarrassment studded with moments so thrilling that they are almost as painful? And, as several other reviewers here have asked, ‘How has it taken me so long to discover this wonderful writer?” I am so grateful to the friend who suggested to me that I read Invitation to the Waltz.
A deceptively simple tale, it was written in 1930 and set in an English country village a decade earlier. It opens on the day of Olivia’s 17th birthday and tells through her eyes what life was like for a girl growing up in a stifling middle-class household where one’s behaviour has to be ‘just so’ and making an appropriate match is considered of the utmost importance.
Olivia is preparing to attend her first party accompanied by her older sister Kate and a drippy escort who’s been hastily rustled up for the occasion. The second half of the book describes the events of the party in excruciating detail; we can picture Olivia’s every tenuous encounter with the opposite sex with the utmost clarity and total empathy. As we leave the two sisters, they are poised to embark on their adult lives. The milieu here might have dated but the sentiments behind this story of transition and self-consciousness haven’t really changed one little bit. Great stuff.
January 19, 2019
A rather charming coming of age story.
The story takes place over 2 days; Olivia's 17th birthday, and the day of her first dance. She receives, among things, a bolt of flame red fabric to make a dress for the dance. it is a sharply observational novel, the descriptions of the various characters that Olivia meets are just wonderful. Olivia herself, perfectly expresses that self conscious, awkward stage of life as she moves from childhood to the beginning of adulthood.
I'm looking forward to reading more of Lehmann's novels.
The story takes place over 2 days; Olivia's 17th birthday, and the day of her first dance. She receives, among things, a bolt of flame red fabric to make a dress for the dance. it is a sharply observational novel, the descriptions of the various characters that Olivia meets are just wonderful. Olivia herself, perfectly expresses that self conscious, awkward stage of life as she moves from childhood to the beginning of adulthood.
I'm looking forward to reading more of Lehmann's novels.
August 23, 2020
El baile en si mismo, es el mundo que espera a Olivia, a punto de dejar la adolescencia. La inmersión de Olivia en este su primer baile, las ansiedades, la anticipación y la excitación, y la gente que irá conociendo en esta noche, realmente la ayudará a conocerse mejor a sí misma y a desenvolverse en ese tan cercano mundo adulto al que está a punto de adentrarse esta chica de 17 años. Olivia es consciente por primera vez de la artificiosidad de ciertas reuniones sociales donde se hacen más relevantes que nunca las diferencias de clases, los defectos y las virtudes, y las presiones, y al mismo tiempo, sabe reconocer el momento y/o instante auténtico que se puede producir entre tanta "postureo". El baile es el simbolo de esa nueva vida, la primera mirada que tiene de ese mundo todavia desconocido, no tan comódo ni tan protegido, pero esperanzador para una mente curiosa como la de ella. Una novela de iniciación fantástica, Rosamond Lehmann es otra escritora invisible que ya está en mi punto de mira.
January 28, 2021
Este libro tiene un tono muy intimista y, gracias a la mirada de Olivia y, en ocasiones, de su hermana Kate podemos observar detenidamente a un amplio abanico de personajes, ideas y sensaciones. Estudiamos la diferencia de clases sociales e incluso las diferencias económicas dentro de una misma clase o de una misma familia. Vemos cómo los más privilegiados contemplan al resto por encima de sus hombros, cómo algunos viven una vida decadente, otros se entregan a la pureza y a la religión. Hipócritas la gran mayoría, aunque algunos son tan tiernos que tocan el corazón de lleno, pero son apenas destellos en una inmensa oscuridad social. Y en el centro de este carrusel las dos jóvenes, intentando adaptarse a ese mundo al que, en realidad, no pertenecen y para el que no las han educado.
Y Olivia que ha estrenado unos 17 años llena de inseguridades, de cambios, de miedos… con torpeza, timidez e inocencia. Sin malicia, aceptando a todos aquellos que desean bailar con ella, o conversar, tal y como son. Mientras por dentro teme el rechazo y la exclusion.
February 10, 2023
Oh I loved this! Brought me right back to being an insecure, awkward, hopeful, dreaming seventeen year old.
September 6, 2017
The moment I turned the last page, I exclaimed, "Wow." It's very difficult for me to articulate why I find this novel so enchanting and endearing. I think that as a 17-year old, I was a lot like the protagonist, Olivia, and the turning point of my teenage years, the moment when everything changed, also coincided with a dance. And much like her, I was sensitive, overly empathetic, and disliked most things aside from the 19th-century novel. Like her, I remembered and internalized all my interactions with people, but I would fade away from their memories the moment I stepped away. I fancied myself a writer at that age, but all I thought while reading this novel was that THIS was what my journal would have ideally been like had I been a capable and more talented writer.
June 19, 2019
This beautiful, charming novel – presented through a blend of stream-of-consciousness and more traditional narrative – manages to combine a lightness of touch with a real depth of personal feeling.
On the day of her seventeenth birthday, Olivia Curtis receives from her parents a roll of flame-coloured silk to be fashioned into an evening dress for a forthcoming dance. The occasion will represent Olivia’s introduction to society, a world already glimpsed by her older sister, the attractive, more self-assured Kate.
To read the rest of my review, please click here:
https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2019...
On the day of her seventeenth birthday, Olivia Curtis receives from her parents a roll of flame-coloured silk to be fashioned into an evening dress for a forthcoming dance. The occasion will represent Olivia’s introduction to society, a world already glimpsed by her older sister, the attractive, more self-assured Kate.
To read the rest of my review, please click here:
https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2019...
September 27, 2011
I actually felt sad when this book ended. It went too swiftly! I felt downhearted that I had to leave dear Olivia (and Kate) after knowing them for only a short while. Thank goodness there is a sequel or else I would feel much sadder than I do now.
Rosamond Lehmann = majorly talented author. I am convinced she could turn a story about watching paint dry into a compelling and beautiful read.
Rosamond Lehmann = majorly talented author. I am convinced she could turn a story about watching paint dry into a compelling and beautiful read.
September 20, 2025
Invitation to the Waltz is included on Realini’s Best 100 Novels list and just as importantly, on the 1,000 Novels Everyone Must Read list
https://www.theguardian.com/books/200...
10 out of 10
This reader has discovered that the list of his favorite works of art includes more and more women – Penelope Fitzgerald, Jennifer Egan, Elizabeth Bowen, Anita Brookner, Jane Bowles, Alice Munro, Esther Freud, A.S. Byatt http://realini.blogspot.com/2021/08/y... - proving that indeed, it is not a question of men being more capable to create better, majestic masterpieces, there has been this millennia when males have been mostly chauvinist, sexist and worse…
Invitation to the Waltz is yet another opus magnum that proves that women can be better than (not just equal to) men, a narrative that brings to mind the resplendent Alice Adams by Booth Tarkington http://realini.blogspot.com/2015/09/a... for both novels have their protagonist at dances, anxious and then somewhat desperate at being left alone, exposed without partners to fill in the blanc dance program, trying to disguise the situation somehow – in the case of Alice Adams this results in some hilarious episodes, one in which she claims to be enraptured in a talk with somebody that I remember being close to a vegetable – however, it may look as if it is better not to dance at times, than be exposed to the drunkenness of one, the ignominy of another…the latter would be the ‘antediluvian’ partner of aunt Etty, Podge, who keeps saying heu with a pretentious air…
This is 1920, winter, quarter to nine in the morning and there is no more precise start to a saga that I know of, Olivia Curtis aka Alice Adams transported to the village of Little Compton is seventeen today and she has an Invitation to the Waltz that may mark her ‘coming out into the world’, at a time when class distinction was perhaps not as marked as in the days of Jane Austen – incidentally, the favorite authors of the heroine are Austen, Bronte, Dickens, and especially Vanity Fair, which happens to be a cherished opus magnum for the under signed – but we do have this element present and crossing the barriers might be impossible.
If the tone of the narrative is not gloomy, there are chapters when we see the effects of World War I, which has killed so many, one of the Spencers, the family that had sent the Invitation to the Waltz, has blinded Timmy Douglas – this is one of the tenants, who is now raising chicken and has married his nurse, tries to look ‘normal’, but his handicap does make dancing with him, and more importantly, being able to cope with his disability a great challenge – apparently it had affected uncle Oswald, who was once ‘brainy’ and then there are very few available young men, indeed, seeing as the invitation to the dance includes a partner, they have had to think hard who can be selected and then ended up with Reginald Kershew aka Reggie.
This young fellow may be a disappointment – though with the hindsight provided by some chapters of further reading, he is not that bad – Olivia and her sister, Kate, are unhappy with the indifference shown by the guest, his almost gargantuan appetites and more seriously, the intention he has to become a curate – what an irony Olivia thinks, to be going to the first dance with a would be clergy – this might be especially awkward, seeing as the girl has lost her faith – this is in fact a delicate subject in the household where the father is such an atheist that he loses his temper when he sees a priest and he encourages his son, James, to tease the mother that has an ambivalent, concealing attitude towards religion.
This is one stupendous aspect among many in what is a fabulous, majestic chef d’oeuvre which only has 223 pages - more or less, depending on the edition – and yet is so flamboyantly rich in suggestions, thought provoking subjects, ranging from war to religion, love and morals at the beginning of the last century, reading and class difference, the dreams of some characters – take Miss Robinson, the one that at thirty will never marry, one hundred years ago, that would be the verdict, which has only a few pages wherein she is present and yet what a complicated personage she is…on the one hand, she is quite appalling with her jokes, calling Olivia a Scarlet Woman, because of the scarlet material from which she has to make a dress…the spinster talks of a man she had met in Brighton and this figure is at times a man with platonic interests and then in other versions, there is a burning passion that never came to fruition, or did it
At the dance, Olivia arrives with her sister, Kate, and their partner, Reggie, only it looks that the man has eaten with them at the table, stayed as a guest and considered that as ‘mission accomplished’, he does not feel like taking the girls to the floor, instead he is busy eating and drinking, alter he would find the company of Phyl and Dolly Martin as enchanting…meanwhile, Olivia is scared at the prospect of spending the evening hiding in the locker room, to conceal the disinterest of the men in dancing with her, just like Alice Adams, but later on, her mother will reach the conclusion that it was a very successful evening for her younger daughter, when instead, we may see the Waltz as promising much more for Kate, who finds she is very compatible with Tony Heriot – there is a major difference here, for while Alice Adams tries hard to appear to belong to higher echelons [ which causes another exulting episode, when they hire outside, temporary help to show they have the means and the woman turns out to be rude, the father does not know the name of the one he allegedly had had in the house for so long] Kate states correctly her situation, that she would like to have a horse, she does not ride, rarely if ever goes to London, and their means are limited, but we find that she has the same preferences like Tony and they seem to be destined to become very good friends…
There is The Weather in the Streets, which continues the story of The Invitation, where Otilia will be the lover of Rollo, so this is not spoiler alert, or is it, and we have an idea where this might be heading to, on the whole, the night is indeed a success, mixed with challenges – to quote the Harvard Professor Tal Ben-Shahar, ‘learn to fail or fail to learn’- she meets a strange, outré poet, Peter Jenkin, who talks of…his mother’s unsatisfactory sex life, the Oedipus complex, Dostoevsky, dazzling and confusing his interlocutor, who feels sorry for the man who comes near tears later on…was he drunk, we wonder…this is a mesmerizing, thought provoking, distinguished, one of the Best Novels on this reader’s list…
https://www.theguardian.com/books/200...
10 out of 10
This reader has discovered that the list of his favorite works of art includes more and more women – Penelope Fitzgerald, Jennifer Egan, Elizabeth Bowen, Anita Brookner, Jane Bowles, Alice Munro, Esther Freud, A.S. Byatt http://realini.blogspot.com/2021/08/y... - proving that indeed, it is not a question of men being more capable to create better, majestic masterpieces, there has been this millennia when males have been mostly chauvinist, sexist and worse…
Invitation to the Waltz is yet another opus magnum that proves that women can be better than (not just equal to) men, a narrative that brings to mind the resplendent Alice Adams by Booth Tarkington http://realini.blogspot.com/2015/09/a... for both novels have their protagonist at dances, anxious and then somewhat desperate at being left alone, exposed without partners to fill in the blanc dance program, trying to disguise the situation somehow – in the case of Alice Adams this results in some hilarious episodes, one in which she claims to be enraptured in a talk with somebody that I remember being close to a vegetable – however, it may look as if it is better not to dance at times, than be exposed to the drunkenness of one, the ignominy of another…the latter would be the ‘antediluvian’ partner of aunt Etty, Podge, who keeps saying heu with a pretentious air…
This is 1920, winter, quarter to nine in the morning and there is no more precise start to a saga that I know of, Olivia Curtis aka Alice Adams transported to the village of Little Compton is seventeen today and she has an Invitation to the Waltz that may mark her ‘coming out into the world’, at a time when class distinction was perhaps not as marked as in the days of Jane Austen – incidentally, the favorite authors of the heroine are Austen, Bronte, Dickens, and especially Vanity Fair, which happens to be a cherished opus magnum for the under signed – but we do have this element present and crossing the barriers might be impossible.
If the tone of the narrative is not gloomy, there are chapters when we see the effects of World War I, which has killed so many, one of the Spencers, the family that had sent the Invitation to the Waltz, has blinded Timmy Douglas – this is one of the tenants, who is now raising chicken and has married his nurse, tries to look ‘normal’, but his handicap does make dancing with him, and more importantly, being able to cope with his disability a great challenge – apparently it had affected uncle Oswald, who was once ‘brainy’ and then there are very few available young men, indeed, seeing as the invitation to the dance includes a partner, they have had to think hard who can be selected and then ended up with Reginald Kershew aka Reggie.
This young fellow may be a disappointment – though with the hindsight provided by some chapters of further reading, he is not that bad – Olivia and her sister, Kate, are unhappy with the indifference shown by the guest, his almost gargantuan appetites and more seriously, the intention he has to become a curate – what an irony Olivia thinks, to be going to the first dance with a would be clergy – this might be especially awkward, seeing as the girl has lost her faith – this is in fact a delicate subject in the household where the father is such an atheist that he loses his temper when he sees a priest and he encourages his son, James, to tease the mother that has an ambivalent, concealing attitude towards religion.
This is one stupendous aspect among many in what is a fabulous, majestic chef d’oeuvre which only has 223 pages - more or less, depending on the edition – and yet is so flamboyantly rich in suggestions, thought provoking subjects, ranging from war to religion, love and morals at the beginning of the last century, reading and class difference, the dreams of some characters – take Miss Robinson, the one that at thirty will never marry, one hundred years ago, that would be the verdict, which has only a few pages wherein she is present and yet what a complicated personage she is…on the one hand, she is quite appalling with her jokes, calling Olivia a Scarlet Woman, because of the scarlet material from which she has to make a dress…the spinster talks of a man she had met in Brighton and this figure is at times a man with platonic interests and then in other versions, there is a burning passion that never came to fruition, or did it
At the dance, Olivia arrives with her sister, Kate, and their partner, Reggie, only it looks that the man has eaten with them at the table, stayed as a guest and considered that as ‘mission accomplished’, he does not feel like taking the girls to the floor, instead he is busy eating and drinking, alter he would find the company of Phyl and Dolly Martin as enchanting…meanwhile, Olivia is scared at the prospect of spending the evening hiding in the locker room, to conceal the disinterest of the men in dancing with her, just like Alice Adams, but later on, her mother will reach the conclusion that it was a very successful evening for her younger daughter, when instead, we may see the Waltz as promising much more for Kate, who finds she is very compatible with Tony Heriot – there is a major difference here, for while Alice Adams tries hard to appear to belong to higher echelons [ which causes another exulting episode, when they hire outside, temporary help to show they have the means and the woman turns out to be rude, the father does not know the name of the one he allegedly had had in the house for so long] Kate states correctly her situation, that she would like to have a horse, she does not ride, rarely if ever goes to London, and their means are limited, but we find that she has the same preferences like Tony and they seem to be destined to become very good friends…
There is The Weather in the Streets, which continues the story of The Invitation, where Otilia will be the lover of Rollo, so this is not spoiler alert, or is it, and we have an idea where this might be heading to, on the whole, the night is indeed a success, mixed with challenges – to quote the Harvard Professor Tal Ben-Shahar, ‘learn to fail or fail to learn’- she meets a strange, outré poet, Peter Jenkin, who talks of…his mother’s unsatisfactory sex life, the Oedipus complex, Dostoevsky, dazzling and confusing his interlocutor, who feels sorry for the man who comes near tears later on…was he drunk, we wonder…this is a mesmerizing, thought provoking, distinguished, one of the Best Novels on this reader’s list…
June 19, 2013
This was a lovely little novel about a seventeen year old girl and her first dance. We've all been there; the fear that she'll be a wallflower, the awkwardness of making small talk, the dress that's not as nice as she had imagined, trying to figure out how to navigate the adult world. The action takes place in 1920, but seems very contemporary. Some things never change. The author does a wonderful job of putting you inside Olivia's mind and emotions.
June 16, 2010
This was the first Lehmann I read, and it's still probably my favorite. It's a simple snapshot of a teenage girl getting ready for and going to her first dance. Nothing momentous happens, but it's not meant to; it's just a beautifully written, sympathetically perceived portrait of its heroine, Olivia, and a short span in her life.
December 22, 2011
This charming book, first published in 1932, follows the sensitive Olivia Curtis through two important days of her life: her seventeenth birthday and, a week later, her first dance. Set in 1920, it evokes the clumsy mixture of eagerness, innocence and embarrassment that surrounds a girl who longs to live to the full but knows she is not one of the prettiest ones.
This is a wonderful portrait of a girl on the brink of womanhood and a particular time and place. Rosamond Lehmann is probably best known for the sequel, ‘The Weather in the Streets’ … I will be looking for that one next.
This is a wonderful portrait of a girl on the brink of womanhood and a particular time and place. Rosamond Lehmann is probably best known for the sequel, ‘The Weather in the Streets’ … I will be looking for that one next.
June 16, 2016
The introduction of a young lady in the London Society.
And the ending of her innocence and happiness.
And the ending of her innocence and happiness.
August 19, 2023
A charming, nostalgic, and wise coming-of-age story. And near the end also a bit sad.
But there was another parallel meaning too. In a way, Olivia's emotions and the people she met at the dance were an analogy of her (probably) next experiences in adult life.
You can also have a glimpse at a specific time and place in the past.
I love "binding endings" with found love, yet, in this case, despite not being "binding", I admit the ending was simply wonderful and fitting.
[4.5 stars]
She danced with his youth and his death.
But there was another parallel meaning too. In a way, Olivia's emotions and the people she met at the dance were an analogy of her (probably) next experiences in adult life.
One was just walking irrevocably onward to the places where people would die
You can also have a glimpse at a specific time and place in the past.
I love "binding endings" with found love, yet, in this case, despite not being "binding", I admit the ending was simply wonderful and fitting.
[4.5 stars]
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