Appleby House is Sylvia Smith’s delightful, refreshingly candid account of a year spent in a shabby bed-sit in 1980s London’s East End.
Smith’s engrossing, understated narrative invests the story of shared shifting allegiances, cleaning negotiations, debates about whose turn it is to change the toilet paper (it’s color-coded) and who’s been stealing whose hot water (50p buys 2 baths) with compulsive suspense of the highest order. As tensions build around Laura’s adamant refusal to turn down her music or pretend to care about what her housemates have to say, we find ourselves astonishingly addicted to the goings on in this tiny corner of the universe. In the most artless and amusing way, Appleby House thoroughly indulges our very human fascination with the day-to-day and the surprising, often inexplicable, behavior of our fellow members of the species.
As a fan of extremely dry and boring British things, this may be my ideal book. It's the memoir of a 38 year old lady living in a crummy bedsit in 1984. She drinks tea. She does the washing up. She smokes. She tries to see a play on Christmas Eve with her friend, but it doesn't work out. Who's turn is it to buy the toilet roll???? Dustier than a 10 year old packet of McVities. I love it! PS: There is an entire chapter devoted to "Handicrafts". (!!!!!)
I picked this up at the 2nd hand book shop in Camden on Saturday thinking it looked like a quick, quaint read, and quick it was. Actually, it was quaint, too. I don't think I've ever before read such a dull book in one sitting. Essentially, this is the diary of Sylvia Smith looking back to a year in her life (1984) when she was a tenant of Mr and Mrs Appleby, along with three other young women. Their very mundane lives (drinking tea, cleaning the bathroom, bickering over whose turn it is to change the loo roll, etc) in the mid 80s don't make for all that interesting reading, you'd have thought that four young women living in East London would have a few adventures or escapades, right? Well, Sex in the City it is not, but it was entertaining enough to pass the time on my flight back from London. Perhaps I should think about writing my own memoirs about living in a shared student house in Bloomsbury only ten years later? At least there would be some saucy stories for the readers, haha! ;-)
Sylvia Smith is one of my favourite memoirists in a no-frills, tell it as it is sort of way. There's a minimalistic hint of the narrator's opinions which I quite like, as well as her coming across as leading a hopelessly meaningless life.. 'For dinner I cooked myself a pork chop and a baked potato'... so she's a bit of an Everyman/woman, average joe but she is content with the tedium which makes her an endearing narrator. The writing is often funny due to the uncomfortable predicaments she finds herself in. In Appleby House, Smith writes about one of the many shared houses she lived in during her career as a secretary in London barely making ends meet. There are four bedsits and a shared bathroom. There is a kitchen sink drama atmosphere which is bleak but would make an interesting 'Comedy of Despair' film. You cannot but help to hear Dot Cotton's voice in your head as you read, something of a droning cockney, but somehow hypnotic. I read the book within two days.
An understated book, with a minimalist approach, makes for a delightful and mythical read. This book is like an un-glazed, un-coated fruit, picked at it's prime, and therefore best served ripe and raw. The simplicity of this book makes it for a fun, quick read, but also incredibly charming. Smith pulls this off without making the plot humdrum, still allowing the reader to pause for thought at the subtle characteristics of her boarding mates. Her tone is almost autistic in its humor, it is so straight-forward, yet so past oriented, taking place in such a specific point of her life, it really makes one question their existence and time spent in the land of the living.
I can't really articulate what it is exactly about this book that I love, but I thought it was a terrific little read. It's the mid-80's and a then 38-year-old Sylvia Smith moves into a small furnished room in a house in east London. Her housemates include Sharon, an art student and her boyfriend (shhhh--he's not supposed to to live there); Laura, an odd, seemingly angry, single thirty-one-year-old woman; Susanna, a twenty-something woman and her teenage sister (shhhh--the sister's not supposed to live there, either); and Tracy, a twenty-four-year-old woman recently separated from her husband. Smith recounts her year living in the house and describes the dynamics between the residents. Everyone hates Laura and Laura hates everyone else. From the weird aspects of the house (putting change not only in the telephone, but the bath heater and kitchen stove as well); to Mr. and Mrs. Appleby, the sweet, older couple who own the house, Smith entertains the reader with her simple life in a house that, is a lot of the time, anything but simple. Smith's writing style is straightforward and draws one in immediately.
There's just something charming about this book. It's a super-fast read, but hard to put down. It wasn't anything that I expected at all--I'm thinking London in the 80's: a lively, rocking house with lots of punk, parties, drinking, and drugs. With the exception of a few glasses of wine mentioned, none of the above made an appearance. To me it seemed more like the setting was the 50's or 60's rather than the 80's. But the drama makes up for the missing drugs and rock and roll. And the cozy feeling of the book made it worthwhile.
This is absolutely one of the strangest books I have come across. Sylvia Smith lives a dull and uneventful life. However her little vignettes of one year in a London rooming house are compelling. She is as interested in the occupants sex lives as whose turn it is to replace the toilet paper. Nothing of any substance happens--one occupants plays her music too loud and another cooks her dinners in a wok. The landlords are kindly--they charge according to income and come around once a week to collect the rent. These are the things Smith shares throughout this quick read. For those who will read anything British and for those who have read all of Barbara Pym at least twice.
This was my favorite book of the three I've read by this author. Smith tells her simple, guileless experiences of living at Appleby House, her London flat. She describes the living conditions and her interactions with the other residents in a concise but descriptive manner. You won't find flowery language and clichés, just straightforward writing. From reading various reviews of Smith's books from other readers on Amazon, I guess you either get Sylvia Smith's deadpan humor or you don't. I'm happy to say, I do.
This book is like "reading" a reality TV show about the residents of Appleby House. I've now read all of her published works, and would recommend "Misadventures" to be the best place to start if you're new to the author, although here she continues to make the mundane details of her very ordinary life ... compelling.
Took absolutely zero time to read, but it was quite interesting to read about the author's time sharing a house with other single(ish) women in London in the early '80s. I felt like I got a good understanding of her cultural and socioeconomic scene just from the little vignettes here.
Read mainly to satisfy my desire to read about England. An amusing and fairly compelling account of a woman in a house of flats in London. Neighbors and apartment living can be hard is the message.