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A Wreath of Roses
Spending the holiday with friends, as she has for many years, Camilla finds that their private absorptions - Frances with her painting and Liz with her baby - seem to exclude her from the gossipy intimacies of previous summers. Anxious that she will remain encased in her solitary life as a school secretary, Camilla steps into an unlikely liaison with Richard Elton, a handsome, assured - and dangerous - liar.
206 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1949
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About the author
Elizabeth Taylor
70 books522 followersElizabeth Taylor (née Coles) was a popular English novelist and short story writer. Elizabeth Coles was born in Reading, Berkshire in 1912. She was educated at The Abbey School, Reading, and worked as a governess, as a tutor and as a librarian.
In 1936, she married John William Kendall Taylor, a businessman. She lived in Penn, Buckinghamshire, for almost all her married life.
Her first novel, At Mrs. Lippincote's, was published in 1945 and was followed by eleven more. Her short stories were published in various magazines and collected in four volumes. She also wrote a children's book.
Taylor's work is mainly concerned with the nuances of "everyday" life and situations, which she writes about with dexterity. Her shrewd but affectionate portrayals of middle class and upper middle class English life won her an audience of discriminating readers, as well as loyal friends in the world of letters.
She was a friend of the novelist Ivy Compton-Burnett and of the novelist and critic Robert Liddell.
Elizabeth Taylor died at age 63 of cancer.
Anne Tyler once compared Taylor to Jane Austen, Barbara Pym and Elizabeth Bowen -- "soul sisters all," in Tyler's words . In recent years new interest has been kindled by movie makers in her work. French director Francois Ozon, has made "The Real Life of Angel Deverell" which will be released in early 2005. American director Dan Ireland's screen adaptation of Taylor's "Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont" came out in this country first in 2006 and has made close to $1 million. A British distributor picked it up at Cannes, and the movie was released in England in 2009.
In 1936, she married John William Kendall Taylor, a businessman. She lived in Penn, Buckinghamshire, for almost all her married life.
Her first novel, At Mrs. Lippincote's, was published in 1945 and was followed by eleven more. Her short stories were published in various magazines and collected in four volumes. She also wrote a children's book.
Taylor's work is mainly concerned with the nuances of "everyday" life and situations, which she writes about with dexterity. Her shrewd but affectionate portrayals of middle class and upper middle class English life won her an audience of discriminating readers, as well as loyal friends in the world of letters.
She was a friend of the novelist Ivy Compton-Burnett and of the novelist and critic Robert Liddell.
Elizabeth Taylor died at age 63 of cancer.
Anne Tyler once compared Taylor to Jane Austen, Barbara Pym and Elizabeth Bowen -- "soul sisters all," in Tyler's words . In recent years new interest has been kindled by movie makers in her work. French director Francois Ozon, has made "The Real Life of Angel Deverell" which will be released in early 2005. American director Dan Ireland's screen adaptation of Taylor's "Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont" came out in this country first in 2006 and has made close to $1 million. A British distributor picked it up at Cannes, and the movie was released in England in 2009.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 153 reviews
August 15, 2018
This was my second Taylor novel - I enjoyed Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont last year. This one is darker and dates from much earlier in her career - it was chosen as one of the 64 novels in The Mookse and the Gripes group's Mookse Madness competition (also last year), and I have a long term objective to read all of these.
The book opens on a railway platform, where the central character Camilla is waiting for a train, as is Richard. They ignore each other but witness a messy suicide in which a man throws himself off a bridge in the path of an express train. On catching a later train, Richard joins Camilla in her compartment and the incident prompts a conversation, in which Richard claims to be returning to visit the scene of his childhood, but gets details of the inns in the town wrong.
Camilla is single, and is heading for her annual holiday with her friend Liz, who is now married to a clergyman (Arthur) and has a baby son, at the house of Liz's former governess Frances, a painter. The final main character is the older Morland Beddoes, a film director who has been collecting Frances's paintings - Camilla finds him a room in Richard's rather seedy inn.
The book largely revolves around the changing relationship of the three women, and Camilla's rather desperate attempts to pursue Richard. The town is overlooked by The Clumps, which are ancient hilltop fortifications (perhaps inspired by Wittenham Clumps). Richard is a compulsive liar and has secrets that drive the story towards a dramatic conclusion.
I found this a very enjoyable book to read, and quite an interesting portrait of its time, which already seems very distant. The options available to the women at its centre seem very limited.
The book opens on a railway platform, where the central character Camilla is waiting for a train, as is Richard. They ignore each other but witness a messy suicide in which a man throws himself off a bridge in the path of an express train. On catching a later train, Richard joins Camilla in her compartment and the incident prompts a conversation, in which Richard claims to be returning to visit the scene of his childhood, but gets details of the inns in the town wrong.
Camilla is single, and is heading for her annual holiday with her friend Liz, who is now married to a clergyman (Arthur) and has a baby son, at the house of Liz's former governess Frances, a painter. The final main character is the older Morland Beddoes, a film director who has been collecting Frances's paintings - Camilla finds him a room in Richard's rather seedy inn.
The book largely revolves around the changing relationship of the three women, and Camilla's rather desperate attempts to pursue Richard. The town is overlooked by The Clumps, which are ancient hilltop fortifications (perhaps inspired by Wittenham Clumps). Richard is a compulsive liar and has secrets that drive the story towards a dramatic conclusion.
I found this a very enjoyable book to read, and quite an interesting portrait of its time, which already seems very distant. The options available to the women at its centre seem very limited.
December 2, 2018
This is the fourth novel I’ve read by Taylor and it is interesting to compare with the others. This is set in 1949 and has a more disturbing feel to it than the previous and there is a twist at the end which is significant. The novel revolves around three women: Camilla, Frances and Liz. Frances is an older woman who was formerly Liz’s governess (but is now an artist), Liz now has a husband who is a vicar and a baby son. Camilla is a friend of Liz, who is an unmarried teacher. Every year they spend a month time with Frances as a form of holiday. Frances lives in a village in the south of England. The setting is a middle class English village, but this isn’t all lace curtains, jam making, summer fairs and cream teas. Taylor is exploring other aspects of human nature:
“Whereas in the centre of the earth, in the heart of life in the core of even everyday things is there not violence, with flames wheeling, turmoil, pain, chaos?”
There is the stifling heat of a hot summer and tension runs through the whole. Most of the way through this I was wondering whether this novel was as strong as some of her others, but it is and quite bleak too. The novel opens with a suicide at a railway station:
“The station-master came out of his office and stood in the doorway. The three of them were quite still in the shimmering heat, the plume of smoke nodding towards them, the noise of the train suddenly coming as it rounded a bend, suddenly sucking them up in its confusion and panic. All at once, the man on the footbridge swung himself up on the parapet and, just as Camilla was putting out her arms in a ridiculous gesture as if to stop him, he clumsily jumped, a sprawling jump, an ill-devised death, since he fell wide of the express train.”
This brings Camilla and Richard Elton together as they wait on the platform, Camilla on the way to vacation with Frances. This brings me to the three men in the book. There is Arthur, Liz’s husband, a vicar who is rather pompous and self-important. Morland Beddoes is visiting to look at Frances’s artwork, he is lonely and quite thoughtful. Richard Elton is a different matter, he preys on lonely women, and he lies and is perpetually broke. He is also dangerous as the reader (though not Camilla) soon realizes. He has seen action in the war and is at a loose end. He starts to spend time with Camilla. He writes in his diary:
“And because she is the last thing that will ever happen to me, it shall be different from all that went before. More important. I shall make it different and perfect. And I shall never touch her or harm her or lay hands upon her.”
When a man starts to think like that it is not difficult to guess his past.
All the women are struggling with some aspect of life, as Beddoes notes to Frances:
“Liz is unhappy about her baby. Camilla – that’s a lovely name. It has the smoothness of ice – she’s unhappy about her life; embittered, waspish. You’re unhappy about the world.”
Frances is feeling her age and questioning the meaning of her life:
“For was I not guilty of making ugliness charming? An English sadness like a veil over all I painted, until it became ladylike and nostalgic, governessy, utterly lacking in ferocity, brutality, violence. Whereas in the centre of the earth, in the heart of life, in the core of even everyday things is there not violence, with flames wheeling, turmoil, pain, chaos?
Her paintings this year, she knew, were four utter failures to express her new feelings, her rejection of prettiness, her tearing-down of the veils of sadness, of charm. She had become abstract, incoherent, lost.”
There is little action and village life meanders on with a funfair and a picnic. Taylor explores the lives of the three women, all of whom are coming to terms with something: Frances with old age and loneliness, Camilla with being alone and without someone she can love, Liz with her new baby and her husband (a mixed blessing).
All in all this turned out to be rather good, and there is a definite sinister edge to the ending.
“Whereas in the centre of the earth, in the heart of life in the core of even everyday things is there not violence, with flames wheeling, turmoil, pain, chaos?”
There is the stifling heat of a hot summer and tension runs through the whole. Most of the way through this I was wondering whether this novel was as strong as some of her others, but it is and quite bleak too. The novel opens with a suicide at a railway station:
“The station-master came out of his office and stood in the doorway. The three of them were quite still in the shimmering heat, the plume of smoke nodding towards them, the noise of the train suddenly coming as it rounded a bend, suddenly sucking them up in its confusion and panic. All at once, the man on the footbridge swung himself up on the parapet and, just as Camilla was putting out her arms in a ridiculous gesture as if to stop him, he clumsily jumped, a sprawling jump, an ill-devised death, since he fell wide of the express train.”
This brings Camilla and Richard Elton together as they wait on the platform, Camilla on the way to vacation with Frances. This brings me to the three men in the book. There is Arthur, Liz’s husband, a vicar who is rather pompous and self-important. Morland Beddoes is visiting to look at Frances’s artwork, he is lonely and quite thoughtful. Richard Elton is a different matter, he preys on lonely women, and he lies and is perpetually broke. He is also dangerous as the reader (though not Camilla) soon realizes. He has seen action in the war and is at a loose end. He starts to spend time with Camilla. He writes in his diary:
“And because she is the last thing that will ever happen to me, it shall be different from all that went before. More important. I shall make it different and perfect. And I shall never touch her or harm her or lay hands upon her.”
When a man starts to think like that it is not difficult to guess his past.
All the women are struggling with some aspect of life, as Beddoes notes to Frances:
“Liz is unhappy about her baby. Camilla – that’s a lovely name. It has the smoothness of ice – she’s unhappy about her life; embittered, waspish. You’re unhappy about the world.”
Frances is feeling her age and questioning the meaning of her life:
“For was I not guilty of making ugliness charming? An English sadness like a veil over all I painted, until it became ladylike and nostalgic, governessy, utterly lacking in ferocity, brutality, violence. Whereas in the centre of the earth, in the heart of life, in the core of even everyday things is there not violence, with flames wheeling, turmoil, pain, chaos?
Her paintings this year, she knew, were four utter failures to express her new feelings, her rejection of prettiness, her tearing-down of the veils of sadness, of charm. She had become abstract, incoherent, lost.”
There is little action and village life meanders on with a funfair and a picnic. Taylor explores the lives of the three women, all of whom are coming to terms with something: Frances with old age and loneliness, Camilla with being alone and without someone she can love, Liz with her new baby and her husband (a mixed blessing).
All in all this turned out to be rather good, and there is a definite sinister edge to the ending.
May 2, 2021
When I began this novel, I thought it might be a sort of woman’s period piece, something akin to The Enchanted April. It was far from that. Three friends share a summer holiday together, as they have often done before, but this is a unique summer for them, a summer of change. Elizabeth is a new mother, Frances is her former governess, seeking a way to embrace her almost sudden aging, and Camilla is Elizabeth’s best friend, who is afraid of becoming a spinster.
”We go on for years at a jog-trot,’ Frances said, ‘and then suddenly we are beset with doubts, the landscape darkens, we feel lost and alone, conscious all at once that we must grope our way forward for we cannot retrace our footsteps.”
The landscape does, indeed, darken and each of the main characters seems lost, alone and groping. All of their roles have changed and none of them seems comfortable in her own skin. And, there are men, who serve to complicate an already tense and emotional situation.
for once she thought without disgust of the great rumpled beds in Frances’ paintings which she had always looked at with fastidious, cold appraisal, but now longed for with the thought inherent in squeamish people that the sordid must always be truer to life than the agreeable.
Elizabeth Taylor robs these women of their innocence. They must wake up to the world, see truth, and know life for what it is and for what it can never be.
”We go on for years at a jog-trot,’ Frances said, ‘and then suddenly we are beset with doubts, the landscape darkens, we feel lost and alone, conscious all at once that we must grope our way forward for we cannot retrace our footsteps.”
The landscape does, indeed, darken and each of the main characters seems lost, alone and groping. All of their roles have changed and none of them seems comfortable in her own skin. And, there are men, who serve to complicate an already tense and emotional situation.
for once she thought without disgust of the great rumpled beds in Frances’ paintings which she had always looked at with fastidious, cold appraisal, but now longed for with the thought inherent in squeamish people that the sordid must always be truer to life than the agreeable.
Elizabeth Taylor robs these women of their innocence. They must wake up to the world, see truth, and know life for what it is and for what it can never be.
November 22, 2023
If I could use one word to describe this novel by Elizabeth Taylor, I would say dark because it is the tone immediately set from the first pages. Taylor examines some heavy topics: lies, loneliness, mortality. Her adroit ability to delve into the nuances of human nature and to create the intricacies of relationships must have come from a personal place. How else could one describe such dramas in so few words and with such well-executed interactions.
We meet three women who know each other well who are all experiencing unhappiness. All of these ladies are at a crossroads in their lives and they are not certain where they are heading. Frances is the oldest and was Liz’s governess before she became a painter, currently exploring the new darker side of her work. Liz is married with an infant son but the reader questions why she married a vicar and chose the path she did. Her friend, Camilla is trying unsuccessfully to come to terms with Liz’s new life status and may exhibit a bit of jealousy. Camilla gets swept up and desirous of a rather frightening man. As the reader, you want to try to talk some sense into this young lady.
These three meet to spend the summer together as they do each year in Frances’ cottage in the country. Taylor doesn’t waste time setting the tone, in fact, she starts it out with a horrible incident which first draws our young spinster, Camilla to Richard, the rather mysterious man who doesn’t make a great first impression. However, she is wholly drawn to him. As the outsider, you begin to question Richard’s veracity.
This is not a lengthy novel, and it is truly amazing how easily Taylor can get you wrapped up in the people she writes about. She has a gift for getting those little details, thoughts and gazes just right. This is my second of her books this year and I’ll be anxious to discover what she has in store for me in my third.
We meet three women who know each other well who are all experiencing unhappiness. All of these ladies are at a crossroads in their lives and they are not certain where they are heading. Frances is the oldest and was Liz’s governess before she became a painter, currently exploring the new darker side of her work. Liz is married with an infant son but the reader questions why she married a vicar and chose the path she did. Her friend, Camilla is trying unsuccessfully to come to terms with Liz’s new life status and may exhibit a bit of jealousy. Camilla gets swept up and desirous of a rather frightening man. As the reader, you want to try to talk some sense into this young lady.
These three meet to spend the summer together as they do each year in Frances’ cottage in the country. Taylor doesn’t waste time setting the tone, in fact, she starts it out with a horrible incident which first draws our young spinster, Camilla to Richard, the rather mysterious man who doesn’t make a great first impression. However, she is wholly drawn to him. As the outsider, you begin to question Richard’s veracity.
This is not a lengthy novel, and it is truly amazing how easily Taylor can get you wrapped up in the people she writes about. She has a gift for getting those little details, thoughts and gazes just right. This is my second of her books this year and I’ll be anxious to discover what she has in store for me in my third.
February 10, 2022
I've read quite a few Elizabeth Taylor novels and this is her darkest and most ambitious. It is prefaced with a Virginia Woolf quote and her influence is pervasive.
It begins with an unknown man committing suicide at a railway station. Two of the onlookers are brought together by the event. A good looking but sinister man who has apparently been damaged by the war and a brittle young woman whose life is aimless. It's a novel that tackles big themes - marriage, female friendship, solitude, art. The philosophical passages when Woolf's influence is most apparent never quite worked for me as if Taylor was pushing herself beyond her limitations. She's a good writer but she isn't in Virginia Woolf's class. So her most ambitious novel but not her best.
It begins with an unknown man committing suicide at a railway station. Two of the onlookers are brought together by the event. A good looking but sinister man who has apparently been damaged by the war and a brittle young woman whose life is aimless. It's a novel that tackles big themes - marriage, female friendship, solitude, art. The philosophical passages when Woolf's influence is most apparent never quite worked for me as if Taylor was pushing herself beyond her limitations. She's a good writer but she isn't in Virginia Woolf's class. So her most ambitious novel but not her best.
May 9, 2023
“'We go for years at a jog-trot,’ Frances said, ‘and then suddenly we are beset with doubts, the landscape darkens, we feel lost and alone, conscious all at once that we must grope our way forward for we cannot retrace our footsteps.’”
Elizabeth Taylor has captured a group of people who are in this time in their lives where the “landscape darkens.” Camilla and Liz vacation every year with Frances, Liz’s former governess, a painter living in a village in southern England. They are three very different people, but their shared past and, I think, love for the differences in each other, bind them together.
But this summer they aren’t connecting, and each has her private worries. Liz has married and had a child, Harry, who she brings with her. Camilla, feeling bored with her life and afraid she’ll never marry, obsesses over a man she met on the train. Frances, suddenly old and frail, has a visit from the man who has collected her paintings.
My third Taylor, and each has been very different. What a talent! This isn’t a book to pick up for fun, though. It’s an exploration of some very troubling territory. I love it for its honesty, about relationships, about our individual paths, about art, about change, and about the danger of our decisions.
Brilliantly bleak. “An English sadness. Delicious to contemplate.”
Elizabeth Taylor has captured a group of people who are in this time in their lives where the “landscape darkens.” Camilla and Liz vacation every year with Frances, Liz’s former governess, a painter living in a village in southern England. They are three very different people, but their shared past and, I think, love for the differences in each other, bind them together.
But this summer they aren’t connecting, and each has her private worries. Liz has married and had a child, Harry, who she brings with her. Camilla, feeling bored with her life and afraid she’ll never marry, obsesses over a man she met on the train. Frances, suddenly old and frail, has a visit from the man who has collected her paintings.
My third Taylor, and each has been very different. What a talent! This isn’t a book to pick up for fun, though. It’s an exploration of some very troubling territory. I love it for its honesty, about relationships, about our individual paths, about art, about change, and about the danger of our decisions.
Brilliantly bleak. “An English sadness. Delicious to contemplate.”
November 7, 2021
Parting the leaves to look for treasure, love, adventure, she inadvertently disclosed evil, and recoiled. 'He is like this empty, cobwebbed house,' she thought. 'Room after room is full of echoes, there's nothing there.'
I've seen review after review describe this as one of Taylor's darkest, bleakest books, but I'd say it goes beyond that, into chilling, even creepy, territory.
We start off thinking we're in a typical Taylor scenario: three women, fraught and complicated friendships, a vexed marriage that upsets the harmony - but right from the start there's something horrific that Camilla witnesses, an event which creates a symmetry with the ending. And from the start, too, we're offered glimpses at arms length of the horror that lies at the heart of the book.
En route, we're treated to Taylor's trademark snappy dialogue, not least the cutting thoughts of Camilla. But the comedy is dark and deep, and there is great sadness in these women's lives alongside the love that lies between them. And it's hard not to sympathise with Camilla's foolish bravery driven by jealousy of Liz and a final attempt to grab something exciting in her dull, mundane life. At the end, Taylor steps away from the brink and I'm still not sure whether I'm disappointed or relieved by that ending. If you think you know Taylor's field of play, this book may surprise and, yes, shock.
December 29, 2022
My first Elizabeth Taylor (& no, it's not that Elizabeth Taylor) & I was impressed.
The writing is beautiful & lyrical - I know I could turn to just any page & find a quotable quote!
Liz & Camilla are two childhood friends who are hoping to enjoy their annual holiday with Liz's old governess, Frances. But all three women have changed. The changes for all three women relate to men in their lives. (or who come into their lives) Will their friendship keep it's old shine?
Typing that quote out, I read it's gentle feminism & frustration for women of that time (this book is set in post WW2 England)
A patient read will be rewarded.
https://wordpress.com/view/carolshess...
The writing is beautiful & lyrical - I know I could turn to just any page & find a quotable quote!
Liz & Camilla are two childhood friends who are hoping to enjoy their annual holiday with Liz's old governess, Frances. But all three women have changed. The changes for all three women relate to men in their lives. (or who come into their lives) Will their friendship keep it's old shine?
"I'm sorry but I think that Richard man is bad. I think he does harm. I'm afraid he will do harm to you."
"I'm afraid Arthur will do harm to you, too."
"Oh, no."
"He won't let you grow, or change. He will never allow you to throw out new shoots, but will contort you into something he wishes you to be, a sort of child-wife. It's a kind of murder."
Typing that quote out, I read it's gentle feminism & frustration for women of that time (this book is set in post WW2 England)
A patient read will be rewarded.
https://wordpress.com/view/carolshess...
May 17, 2023
The key thing with Elizabeth Taylor is her subtlety. I think she hated drama, overblown emotional scenes; overblown anything - and in this novel, I 'get' all the normal characters - they are all so much part of her repertoire - including Mrs Parsons, the woman who does the 'rough'; Camilla, secretary in a girls school and her best friend, Liz. Frances, Liz's former governess, now artist; and the gentlemen - Arthur, Liz's husband, and Mr Beddoes, a middle-aged art collector and film-director - with a long-standing correspondence with Frances - they are all familiar territory. When you watch them, you have to develop a feeling for them. A glance, a significant word here or there, is all you have - and on all these small conversations and gestures a whole intimate world is built. There's no point in rushing through this novel, eager to find out what happens - if you do, then you'll miss everything. No: you have to feel the characters, you have to go into their world and flesh them out - and then suddenly you see the nuance.
A single sentence from Morland Beddoes to Frances:
"You came out of that tulgy wood?"
"You shall see." (Frances replies)
Frances has turned the tide on her gloomy choice of subject matter - the figures outlined in black and great, dark skies. It's a turning point in her mental state. Like all the characters; Frances passes through a downward turn in her life's projection. She has become quite old and frail, with pain in her right arm from rheumatism; but she comes up again, literally back into a breathing, hopeful, space. All the characters pass through this catharsis. Liz manages to see the love in her marriage to Arthur, and the wonder of her infant son, and Camilla? She is led down a dangerous path, but never quite submits to the full horror of Richard's story. There is something in her which resists him, if only on an intellectual level; and then of course there is hope for her in the future in the form of Mr Beddoes. He meanwhile has recognised his own weaknesses, not opting for a partner, not rescuing a kitten because he would have to care about it etc. He recognises these failings and knows that he needs a life-partner. There is a single sentence where he notices he hasn't included Camilla's thoughts, as he goes over the picnic and then says to himself: "Perhaps because Camilla is my listener." It's not a lot to go on . . . I can see plenty of readers arguing with my hypotheses - but it's there - in the text. It's there, but ever so subtly.
And so this brings us to the terrifying, Richard Elton. He enters and leaves; definitely the main character. He is so out of the norm both in himself and in terms of Taylor's more usual choices. And to be honest I was puzzled because although this novel, is structured to have him as an essential component it is not Taylor's territory. It's as if she has been torn from her normal current with this severely disturbed individual. He is sick. We don't know how exactly but we learn that nothing he says is reliable. He keeps inventing himself and as Camilla points out -"you will not be able to tell truth from fiction," if you continue like this.
Towards the end, as the pace increases - we know something awful must happen to him. He has this drive, propelling him into disaster, and Camilla is caught up with it. Interspersed between this building tension, are numerous pastoral scenes: Frances and Beddoes discussing her pictures; Arthur and Liz reconciled by the bean plants; the family picnic on the slope below the Craggs - and the reader - this reader wondering - what the hell! When is the big denouément between Camilla and Richard ever going to happen? It's spectacular when it does - very sinister and creepy and very believable, right down to Richard's Story. I think he did what he says he did.
Can I return to the question of - why write about him? Why this odd character in the Taylor oeuvre? You could explain it away as - an early book - lacking confidence in her own unique voice etc. I don't think that's the case. I always see Taylor as fully formed. She knows what she is doing.
There were a lot of "wayfaring trees" towards the end. If I was to count, maybe 4 or 5 mentions. There are no accidents with Taylor - and that word above, "tulgy" comes from Lewis Carrols' The Jabberwocky. It means 'something, heavy, dark and foreboding' - which is exactly Frances' state of mind - before Beddoes arrives. And so with the "wayfaring trees" - they are a type of shrubby viburnum. I couldn't help but think of a song - Wayfaring Stranger:
I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
Travelling through this world below
There's no sickness, no toil or danger
In that bright land to which I go
I'm going there to see my father
And all my loved ones, who've gone on
I'm just going over Jordan
I'm just going over home.
I've always thought of it as an American folk song, but it seems that it was a hymn and has been around for at least two hundred years. There's a famous recording by Burl Ives, 1940s who made it a signature song on an album. So, a song that Taylor would have heard.
I really disliked this character, Richard. I saw him as narcissistic and self-serving. I hated the way he played with Camilla - and was seen on several occasions with other women. I hated the scene when he takes Camilla to a house where he pretends it was his childhood home - that whole section is sordid, and Camilla squirms.
But when I listened again to this song - Wayfaring Stranger - I suddenly understood that Taylor has written about Richard, with the deepest compassion. He is a troubled man - and she shows that in every scene he is in. It's a strange sensation of needing to be in the right mood, or feeling, which the music encourages in me. Your heart needs to go before. And you must read with your heart and not just your mind. Taylor asks that you read this book with your heart first.
A single sentence from Morland Beddoes to Frances:
"You came out of that tulgy wood?"
"You shall see." (Frances replies)
Frances has turned the tide on her gloomy choice of subject matter - the figures outlined in black and great, dark skies. It's a turning point in her mental state. Like all the characters; Frances passes through a downward turn in her life's projection. She has become quite old and frail, with pain in her right arm from rheumatism; but she comes up again, literally back into a breathing, hopeful, space. All the characters pass through this catharsis. Liz manages to see the love in her marriage to Arthur, and the wonder of her infant son, and Camilla? She is led down a dangerous path, but never quite submits to the full horror of Richard's story. There is something in her which resists him, if only on an intellectual level; and then of course there is hope for her in the future in the form of Mr Beddoes. He meanwhile has recognised his own weaknesses, not opting for a partner, not rescuing a kitten because he would have to care about it etc. He recognises these failings and knows that he needs a life-partner. There is a single sentence where he notices he hasn't included Camilla's thoughts, as he goes over the picnic and then says to himself: "Perhaps because Camilla is my listener." It's not a lot to go on . . . I can see plenty of readers arguing with my hypotheses - but it's there - in the text. It's there, but ever so subtly.
And so this brings us to the terrifying, Richard Elton. He enters and leaves; definitely the main character. He is so out of the norm both in himself and in terms of Taylor's more usual choices. And to be honest I was puzzled because although this novel, is structured to have him as an essential component it is not Taylor's territory. It's as if she has been torn from her normal current with this severely disturbed individual. He is sick. We don't know how exactly but we learn that nothing he says is reliable. He keeps inventing himself and as Camilla points out -"you will not be able to tell truth from fiction," if you continue like this.
Towards the end, as the pace increases - we know something awful must happen to him. He has this drive, propelling him into disaster, and Camilla is caught up with it. Interspersed between this building tension, are numerous pastoral scenes: Frances and Beddoes discussing her pictures; Arthur and Liz reconciled by the bean plants; the family picnic on the slope below the Craggs - and the reader - this reader wondering - what the hell! When is the big denouément between Camilla and Richard ever going to happen? It's spectacular when it does - very sinister and creepy and very believable, right down to Richard's Story. I think he did what he says he did.
Can I return to the question of - why write about him? Why this odd character in the Taylor oeuvre? You could explain it away as - an early book - lacking confidence in her own unique voice etc. I don't think that's the case. I always see Taylor as fully formed. She knows what she is doing.
There were a lot of "wayfaring trees" towards the end. If I was to count, maybe 4 or 5 mentions. There are no accidents with Taylor - and that word above, "tulgy" comes from Lewis Carrols' The Jabberwocky. It means 'something, heavy, dark and foreboding' - which is exactly Frances' state of mind - before Beddoes arrives. And so with the "wayfaring trees" - they are a type of shrubby viburnum. I couldn't help but think of a song - Wayfaring Stranger:
I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger
Travelling through this world below
There's no sickness, no toil or danger
In that bright land to which I go
I'm going there to see my father
And all my loved ones, who've gone on
I'm just going over Jordan
I'm just going over home.
I've always thought of it as an American folk song, but it seems that it was a hymn and has been around for at least two hundred years. There's a famous recording by Burl Ives, 1940s who made it a signature song on an album. So, a song that Taylor would have heard.
I really disliked this character, Richard. I saw him as narcissistic and self-serving. I hated the way he played with Camilla - and was seen on several occasions with other women. I hated the scene when he takes Camilla to a house where he pretends it was his childhood home - that whole section is sordid, and Camilla squirms.
But when I listened again to this song - Wayfaring Stranger - I suddenly understood that Taylor has written about Richard, with the deepest compassion. He is a troubled man - and she shows that in every scene he is in. It's a strange sensation of needing to be in the right mood, or feeling, which the music encourages in me. Your heart needs to go before. And you must read with your heart and not just your mind. Taylor asks that you read this book with your heart first.
December 13, 2018
“A fear of being left out inspired her, a feeling that life was enriching everyone but herself, that education had taken the place of experience and conversation the place of action.”
“in the centre of the earth, in the heart of life, in the core of even everyday things, is there not violence, with flames wheeling, turmoil, pain, chaos?”
“Parting the leaves to look for treasure, love, adventure, she inadvertently disclosed evil and recoiled.”
Every summer school-teacher Camilla travels by train to stay for a month with her friend, Liz, at the flint cottage belonging to Frances Rutherford, Liz’s childhood governess. There had been hints that life was changing—that the pleasant routine was breaking up—the previous summer; Liz, then only recently married, was pregnant and plagued with morning sickness. This summer, even the journey to the village where Frances lives seems to bode ill. While waiting for a branch-line train, Camilla and a male passenger (Richard Elton) witness a man commit suicide by jumping from a footbridge. Although Elton’s clothing, movie-star good looks, and bearing suggest to Camilla that he is a man “whose existence could not touch hers . . . and counted its values in a different way”, after the suicide occurs, the two are drawn together. They get to talking when they’ve finally boarded the branch-line train.
It’s clear from the start that something is not quite right with Richard Elton. Even his name, Camilla muses, is the “sort of name that people don’t have . . . [that] a woman writer might choose for a nom-de-plume perhaps . . . or for the name of her hero”. Elton quickly assesses prim, buttoned-up Camilla, and he creates a persona that will appeal to her. He leads her to believe that he was a spy during the war, that he is working on a memoir about his wartime experiences, and that he is making a “sentimental journey” to the very town in which Camilla will stay with her friends. (The reader gets lots of hints, both subtle and not so subtle, that Elton doesn’t actually know the town at all, and that this is as good a place as any for a man on the run to stop.) Just when Elton is certain he’s got Camilla’s attention, he turns to reading a newspaper article about the grisly murder and dismemberment of a young woman. (His preoccupation with newspapers will only continue.) Elton will later leave the train in Abingford, just as Camilla does, and will go on to install himself in an upstairs room at the Griffin, a stale, dark pub.
Elizabeth Taylor shows a predilection for working with a small cast of characters. Her plots are quite minimal; the “action”, such as it is, is mostly psychological. The story of one character generally takes centre stage, but the narratives of the others are still well developed. In this novel, Camilla’s ill-advised involvement with the psychopathic Richard Elton is the major focus, but her friends’ stories and dilemmas are carefully depicted, too. They are of interest in their own right, but they also enhance and amplify aspects of Camilla’s experience. Take the elderly Frances: the former governess believes she wasted her life teaching foolish young girls when she ought to have dedicated herself to art. Frances is now finding a new way with her painting, shaking off the prettiness and sentimentality that characterized her earlier work in favour of something more raw and true. She is forthright and gruff with her young friends, heaping scorn on novel-reading and sharply correcting any of their tendencies to pretension and self-delusion. To Camilla, who likes to cultivate an image of herself as fine and sensitive, for example, Frances observes: “You try to enlarge yourself by everything that happens, even other people’s misfortunes. As if you had special feelings.” Frances’s old-maid status is a kind of caution to Camilla, an image of what she could become.
Liz’s personality and story provide a counterpoint to Camilla’s. Impulsive, emotional, and willing to engage with others, Liz has what Camilla lacks: spontaneity, a marriage, and a child. Even so, she, too, struggles with the realities of her situation.
Those characters in the novel who are aware that Camilla is associating with the disturbed Richard Elton, a man capable of causing real harm to a woman, attempt to warn her against him. Elton’s emptiness, falseness, and manipulation are actually evident to Camilla, but her discernment is always threatened by her consuming need to be loved and desired by him—or, at least, by some man. Camilla’s psychological conflicts create most of the tension in this novel.
A Wreathe of Roses is a darkly compelling novel that explores a number of themes: loneliness, art, marriage, old age, friendship, the psychological impact of war, psychopathology, and the even larger question of the place of humans in the universe. The novel is mostly expertly realized. However, I think Frances is portrayed in an occasionally clunky manner. From time to time, she holds forth on philosophical matters in an inauthentic and even stagey way, appearing to be too much the author’s mouthpiece. Morland Beddoes, a middle-aged film director and great admirer of Frances’s paintings, is also a somewhat problematic character. He comes on the scene rather late, and I found his too-quick integration into the group and his rapid, almost preternatural assessment of Richard Elton’s capacity to do harm a bit hard to credit. (Beddoes is certainly one of Taylor’s “types”: the unmarried older man, a spectator and a listener, in whom women readily confide.) Having said all this, I still think A Wreath of Roses is a rich, dark gem of a novel, one well worth reading—or re-reading, as was the case for me. I found that I actually appreciated the novel much more the second time.
“in the centre of the earth, in the heart of life, in the core of even everyday things, is there not violence, with flames wheeling, turmoil, pain, chaos?”
“Parting the leaves to look for treasure, love, adventure, she inadvertently disclosed evil and recoiled.”
Every summer school-teacher Camilla travels by train to stay for a month with her friend, Liz, at the flint cottage belonging to Frances Rutherford, Liz’s childhood governess. There had been hints that life was changing—that the pleasant routine was breaking up—the previous summer; Liz, then only recently married, was pregnant and plagued with morning sickness. This summer, even the journey to the village where Frances lives seems to bode ill. While waiting for a branch-line train, Camilla and a male passenger (Richard Elton) witness a man commit suicide by jumping from a footbridge. Although Elton’s clothing, movie-star good looks, and bearing suggest to Camilla that he is a man “whose existence could not touch hers . . . and counted its values in a different way”, after the suicide occurs, the two are drawn together. They get to talking when they’ve finally boarded the branch-line train.
It’s clear from the start that something is not quite right with Richard Elton. Even his name, Camilla muses, is the “sort of name that people don’t have . . . [that] a woman writer might choose for a nom-de-plume perhaps . . . or for the name of her hero”. Elton quickly assesses prim, buttoned-up Camilla, and he creates a persona that will appeal to her. He leads her to believe that he was a spy during the war, that he is working on a memoir about his wartime experiences, and that he is making a “sentimental journey” to the very town in which Camilla will stay with her friends. (The reader gets lots of hints, both subtle and not so subtle, that Elton doesn’t actually know the town at all, and that this is as good a place as any for a man on the run to stop.) Just when Elton is certain he’s got Camilla’s attention, he turns to reading a newspaper article about the grisly murder and dismemberment of a young woman. (His preoccupation with newspapers will only continue.) Elton will later leave the train in Abingford, just as Camilla does, and will go on to install himself in an upstairs room at the Griffin, a stale, dark pub.
Elizabeth Taylor shows a predilection for working with a small cast of characters. Her plots are quite minimal; the “action”, such as it is, is mostly psychological. The story of one character generally takes centre stage, but the narratives of the others are still well developed. In this novel, Camilla’s ill-advised involvement with the psychopathic Richard Elton is the major focus, but her friends’ stories and dilemmas are carefully depicted, too. They are of interest in their own right, but they also enhance and amplify aspects of Camilla’s experience. Take the elderly Frances: the former governess believes she wasted her life teaching foolish young girls when she ought to have dedicated herself to art. Frances is now finding a new way with her painting, shaking off the prettiness and sentimentality that characterized her earlier work in favour of something more raw and true. She is forthright and gruff with her young friends, heaping scorn on novel-reading and sharply correcting any of their tendencies to pretension and self-delusion. To Camilla, who likes to cultivate an image of herself as fine and sensitive, for example, Frances observes: “You try to enlarge yourself by everything that happens, even other people’s misfortunes. As if you had special feelings.” Frances’s old-maid status is a kind of caution to Camilla, an image of what she could become.
Liz’s personality and story provide a counterpoint to Camilla’s. Impulsive, emotional, and willing to engage with others, Liz has what Camilla lacks: spontaneity, a marriage, and a child. Even so, she, too, struggles with the realities of her situation.
Those characters in the novel who are aware that Camilla is associating with the disturbed Richard Elton, a man capable of causing real harm to a woman, attempt to warn her against him. Elton’s emptiness, falseness, and manipulation are actually evident to Camilla, but her discernment is always threatened by her consuming need to be loved and desired by him—or, at least, by some man. Camilla’s psychological conflicts create most of the tension in this novel.
A Wreathe of Roses is a darkly compelling novel that explores a number of themes: loneliness, art, marriage, old age, friendship, the psychological impact of war, psychopathology, and the even larger question of the place of humans in the universe. The novel is mostly expertly realized. However, I think Frances is portrayed in an occasionally clunky manner. From time to time, she holds forth on philosophical matters in an inauthentic and even stagey way, appearing to be too much the author’s mouthpiece. Morland Beddoes, a middle-aged film director and great admirer of Frances’s paintings, is also a somewhat problematic character. He comes on the scene rather late, and I found his too-quick integration into the group and his rapid, almost preternatural assessment of Richard Elton’s capacity to do harm a bit hard to credit. (Beddoes is certainly one of Taylor’s “types”: the unmarried older man, a spectator and a listener, in whom women readily confide.) Having said all this, I still think A Wreath of Roses is a rich, dark gem of a novel, one well worth reading—or re-reading, as was the case for me. I found that I actually appreciated the novel much more the second time.
November 25, 2017
Three women spending a holiday month together, as they have for years, the two younger ones friends since childhood, the older woman who was the governess of one, and is spending her retirement dedicated to her passion for painting. Only this year, things have changed for each of them in small and large ways, and they are all realizing that shared experiences no longer unite them. There are three men as characters in this novel as well, who are cause and effect of the changes. Once again, Elizabeth Taylor shows off her knowledge of human nature, the emotions of women in particular. This one gets a little sinister near the end, but it's a powerful book about truth and lies and love, and the lack of attachment and how that affects our lives.
Read
November 28, 2020Oh man, this was so good. But, like, dark. Really fucking dark. In the way that only semi-lost novels about the lives of women published in the mid-20th century can be.
The book opens with the heroine, Camilla Hill, a teacher on the verge of spinsterhood waiting on a railway platform. She’s going to spend the summer, as is tradition, with her two best friends: Liz, recently married to a clergyman, and Frances, a stalwartly single artist who used to Liz’s governess. While she’s standing there, a stranger throws himself in front of an oncoming train—a clumsy, unglamorous death as he sort of fails to get hit, and dies of a broken back while the ambulance is en route—and this unpleasant event is what forges the initial connection between Camilla and the mysterious Richard Elton. An ominously attractive fellow whose story doesn’t quite add up.
The book then unfolds with the summer: the tensions between Liz and Camilla now Liz is married, Liz’s wary happiness in her new life as wife and mother, compared to Camilla’s loneliness and alienation, Frances, nearing the end of a life long dedicated to art, having to make decisions about her future and priorities. And Camilla’s ill-advised relationship with Richard Elton—who she knows is a wrong ‘un, but, desperate for the potential of intimacy, she is helplessly drawn to regardless.
The women are all fascinating and well-drawn. The themes of loneliness and subtle social marginalisation beautifully explored. In general, I was just wild for the incisive bitterness of the writing and the intricate character-work.
For example, on Richard Elton:
And here’s a bit (one of many) I just kinda swooned over:
If I have gripes—and I will always have gripes, because I’m one of nature’s gripers—they’re pretty trivial. Morland Beddoes, Frances’ long-distance admirer, is a bit too generically decent and saves-the-dayish. But, I guess, since the other significant man in the novel is Richard, Beddoes acts as a necessary balancing agent. And the end is quite abrupt considering just how fucking dark it goes.
But I guess that’s the thing with the slice of life type narratives. Once you’ve had the slice, you’re done.
The book opens with the heroine, Camilla Hill, a teacher on the verge of spinsterhood waiting on a railway platform. She’s going to spend the summer, as is tradition, with her two best friends: Liz, recently married to a clergyman, and Frances, a stalwartly single artist who used to Liz’s governess. While she’s standing there, a stranger throws himself in front of an oncoming train—a clumsy, unglamorous death as he sort of fails to get hit, and dies of a broken back while the ambulance is en route—and this unpleasant event is what forges the initial connection between Camilla and the mysterious Richard Elton. An ominously attractive fellow whose story doesn’t quite add up.
The book then unfolds with the summer: the tensions between Liz and Camilla now Liz is married, Liz’s wary happiness in her new life as wife and mother, compared to Camilla’s loneliness and alienation, Frances, nearing the end of a life long dedicated to art, having to make decisions about her future and priorities. And Camilla’s ill-advised relationship with Richard Elton—who she knows is a wrong ‘un, but, desperate for the potential of intimacy, she is helplessly drawn to regardless.
The women are all fascinating and well-drawn. The themes of loneliness and subtle social marginalisation beautifully explored. In general, I was just wild for the incisive bitterness of the writing and the intricate character-work.
For example, on Richard Elton:
He had always told lies, always invented sources of self-pity. If he had an audience, he was saved. When he was alone, he was afraid. He had banished reality and now it was as if he were only reflected back from the mirrors of other people’s minds
And here’s a bit (one of many) I just kinda swooned over:
The strangeness of her situation came over her with her realisation of approaching darkness, the knowledge that she sat on this hillside, her hair down to her shoulders, quite out of the context of all the rest of her life. Ecstasy, she thought. She took the word to pieces and saw its true meaning. The first meanings of words go deeper, she understood, than any of their later meanings, which are fleshed-over and softened by convention and repetition. To go back to the beginnings of words is like imagining the skeletons of our friends.
If I have gripes—and I will always have gripes, because I’m one of nature’s gripers—they’re pretty trivial. Morland Beddoes, Frances’ long-distance admirer, is a bit too generically decent and saves-the-dayish. But, I guess, since the other significant man in the novel is Richard, Beddoes acts as a necessary balancing agent. And the end is quite abrupt considering just how fucking dark it goes.
But I guess that’s the thing with the slice of life type narratives. Once you’ve had the slice, you’re done.
July 31, 2022
I was just thinking to myself that the word for this book was “taut”, a tensile opposition in the characters’ relationships with one another, when the rope sagged and the tension that was left for the ending seemed fabricated, contrived and even crude. As usual I appreciated Elizabeth Taylor’s style and sharply focused powers of observation but I felt that the plot offered more opportunity for development than was given it.
Two friends, Liz and Camilla, holiday together year after year with Liz’s former governess, Frances; this year, from the outset, everything is different. So far so good, but nothing really develops, at least not at a pace that’s any faster than a great slobbery dog, a new intrusion named “Hotchkiss”, lifting his leg against an umbrella stand. Now, I’m fond of dogs but this one really didn’t contribute anything to the narrative except create mild annoyance, so why was he there? There was a raison d’être for a teething baby, who is given as responsible for the change in one of the friends; but I felt that the young mother/baby fixation was a bit overdone. Marriage, or the lack of it, was fundamental to all of this, a favoured theme with Elizabeth Taylor. The three women carped at each other and claimed profound insights into each other without any of it changing the least thing in their lack of harmony as their time together progressed from zero to minus point one. The three men in the picture were painted in alongside the main cast, one of them, Morland Beddoes, with a more nuanced personality. He serves to illuminate Frances’ paintings of the permanence or otherwise of self, emotions, vulnerability, one’s placing within one’s environment. The conversation they have when alone is one of the more interesting places in the story.
Since I’ve liked the three Elizabeth Taylor novels I’ve encountered, I read on with this one, but perhaps because of the way the author chose to end the book I am struggling to find something I really liked about it. It’s not much of a compliment to say that the names of the merry-go-round horses at the fairground probably make off with the first prize – Flance, Eirene, Luna, Gilda, Florence. Other than that there are the beautiful, delicate descriptions of English weather, gardens and countryside, which I look for in Elizabeth Taylor’s writings. In this book we have hot weather with sudden rain - an apt background for the characters. There’s a ‘Box Hill’ style picnic that doesn’t have anything remotely like the impact of the original and makes one long for Jane Austen (although Elizabeth Taylor has actually been called a twentieth-century Austen!). As they set off in Liz’s husband’s small car, after courtesies and near-arguments about who sits where and who will take the bus, Mrs Parsons (who does ‘the rough’ once a week) remarks,
“Gentry take their pleasures sadly.”
All in all, I would say that the style holds up but there’s not enough here to enable me to recommend the journey through the reserve and dissatisfied nostalgia that make up most of the women’s time together. I have one more in the pile of Elizabeth Taylor’s books that were lent to me by a friend, which I will look at in a while, but I may approach it with something like the habitual caution and reserve of her protagonist here. Advisable, I have learned, with this author, whose work can suddenly erupt into something approaching sensationalism, making me wonder if she produced what she felt was expected by her readers and her publisher. In this regard, it is, perhaps, that the plot belongs to its era (1949), while I haven’t felt that so far with her other writing, despite contexts that were important for fixing one’s attitudes.
Not that I was around in 1949, of course (not quite, anyway)!
Two friends, Liz and Camilla, holiday together year after year with Liz’s former governess, Frances; this year, from the outset, everything is different. So far so good, but nothing really develops, at least not at a pace that’s any faster than a great slobbery dog, a new intrusion named “Hotchkiss”, lifting his leg against an umbrella stand. Now, I’m fond of dogs but this one really didn’t contribute anything to the narrative except create mild annoyance, so why was he there? There was a raison d’être for a teething baby, who is given as responsible for the change in one of the friends; but I felt that the young mother/baby fixation was a bit overdone. Marriage, or the lack of it, was fundamental to all of this, a favoured theme with Elizabeth Taylor. The three women carped at each other and claimed profound insights into each other without any of it changing the least thing in their lack of harmony as their time together progressed from zero to minus point one. The three men in the picture were painted in alongside the main cast, one of them, Morland Beddoes, with a more nuanced personality. He serves to illuminate Frances’ paintings of the permanence or otherwise of self, emotions, vulnerability, one’s placing within one’s environment. The conversation they have when alone is one of the more interesting places in the story.
Since I’ve liked the three Elizabeth Taylor novels I’ve encountered, I read on with this one, but perhaps because of the way the author chose to end the book I am struggling to find something I really liked about it. It’s not much of a compliment to say that the names of the merry-go-round horses at the fairground probably make off with the first prize – Flance, Eirene, Luna, Gilda, Florence. Other than that there are the beautiful, delicate descriptions of English weather, gardens and countryside, which I look for in Elizabeth Taylor’s writings. In this book we have hot weather with sudden rain - an apt background for the characters. There’s a ‘Box Hill’ style picnic that doesn’t have anything remotely like the impact of the original and makes one long for Jane Austen (although Elizabeth Taylor has actually been called a twentieth-century Austen!). As they set off in Liz’s husband’s small car, after courtesies and near-arguments about who sits where and who will take the bus, Mrs Parsons (who does ‘the rough’ once a week) remarks,
“Gentry take their pleasures sadly.”
All in all, I would say that the style holds up but there’s not enough here to enable me to recommend the journey through the reserve and dissatisfied nostalgia that make up most of the women’s time together. I have one more in the pile of Elizabeth Taylor’s books that were lent to me by a friend, which I will look at in a while, but I may approach it with something like the habitual caution and reserve of her protagonist here. Advisable, I have learned, with this author, whose work can suddenly erupt into something approaching sensationalism, making me wonder if she produced what she felt was expected by her readers and her publisher. In this regard, it is, perhaps, that the plot belongs to its era (1949), while I haven’t felt that so far with her other writing, despite contexts that were important for fixing one’s attitudes.
Not that I was around in 1949, of course (not quite, anyway)!
December 14, 2018
Published in 1949 , this is Elizabeth Taylor's fourth novel and has been called her darkest.
Every year friends Camilla and Liz love spending their summer holiday together at Frances house in the English countryside. Frances used to be Liz's governess when she was younger.
The story starts with Camilla waiting at the train station ,looking forward to spending her summer with dear friends.A man joins her on the platform and soon both witnesss something terrible.
Sharing the same carriage on their journey, Camilla and the man get talking and both discover they are to be staying in the same area.
Once Camillla arrives at Frances house, she notices that things are different, with Liz now married and a young baby to look after and Frances who getting old and frail , shuts herself away painting all day and playing the piano.
Camilla feeling lonely and bored meets up with Richard Elton , the man from the train ,in the village.
Allowing herself to be attracted by him , she soon finds out he is not all he seems...
Elizabeth Taylor said that this book was 'my personal statement about life, that all beauty is pathetic, that writing is like Ophelia handing out flowers, that horror lies under every leaf'
A wreath of Roses is a sad book but well written with interesting characters.
Every year friends Camilla and Liz love spending their summer holiday together at Frances house in the English countryside. Frances used to be Liz's governess when she was younger.
The story starts with Camilla waiting at the train station ,looking forward to spending her summer with dear friends.A man joins her on the platform and soon both witnesss something terrible.
Sharing the same carriage on their journey, Camilla and the man get talking and both discover they are to be staying in the same area.
Once Camillla arrives at Frances house, she notices that things are different, with Liz now married and a young baby to look after and Frances who getting old and frail , shuts herself away painting all day and playing the piano.
Camilla feeling lonely and bored meets up with Richard Elton , the man from the train ,in the village.
Allowing herself to be attracted by him , she soon finds out he is not all he seems...
Elizabeth Taylor said that this book was 'my personal statement about life, that all beauty is pathetic, that writing is like Ophelia handing out flowers, that horror lies under every leaf'
A wreath of Roses is a sad book but well written with interesting characters.
August 6, 2015
What an outstanding piece of work. Though I have a few reservations with the last 15 pages, there was never any doubt that this one was getting a 5 star rating from me. The depth of characterization is remarkable, and the writing throughout is excellent. I found myself jotting down lines and page numbers for future reference almost every few pages. A great novel from an underrated writer.
April 15, 2012
Elizabeth Taylor’s writing is beautifully evocative the minutiae of daily life, the interactions between characters are all wonderful. I always think that a first sentence of a novel can be so important. I absolutely love the first sentence of this novel – it just sets the mood perfectly.
Afternoons seem unending on branch-line stations in England in summer time. The spiked shelter prints an unmoving shadow on the platform, geraniums blaze, whitewashed stones assault the eye. Such trains as come only add to the air of fantasy, to the idea of the scene being symbolic or encountered at one level while suggesting another even more alienating.
In a Wreath of Roses close friends Camilla and Liz are spending a glorious month together with the ageing Frances. This is a holiday they have had together for many successive summers, but things are changing. Liz is quite newly married and now has a young son, her husband is a vicar and their home is close enough for him to visit a few times during the course of the visit. While travelling by train to Abingford a shocking incident throws Camilla into conversation with a man she had noticed on the station. She recognises him as someone she wouldn’t usually associate with – and yet is instantly interested in him. Camilla is an insecure dissatisfied single woman, her life is narrow, and she feels excluded from her friend Liz's baby and new married life, while at the same time disliking her friend’s husband and unable to raise any enthusiasm for their baby son . Liz's old governess Frances with whom they are staying is concerned with her own painting, her rheumatism and the arrival of a friend. The man from the train, Richard Elton, is staying at a nearby hotel and Camilla throws herself in his way much to Liz’s bewilderment. Camilla's unlikely entanglement with Richard Elton, seems at first merely unwise, yet as the novel progresses - it becomes rather more chilling. It takes however the reader and especially Camilla a long time to realise exactly what sort of man Richard Elton is. Meanwhile, Frances anticipates the arrival of a friend with whom she has corresponded with for years but never met. Morland Beddoes – a film director – once saw a picture of Frances’s and having bought it became captivated by the idea of the artist.
The characters are brilliantly observed, and this novel is a wonderful exploration of friendships. The interplay between the characters feels very real. Elizabeth Taylor’s portrayal of Liz’s life, and the slightly dangerous Richard, with his peculiar lies feels breathtakingly accurate. I suspect there are some significantly autobiographical touches which I find a fascinating idea. Liz is the conventional young wife and mother, Camilla an independent woman, with lonely insecurities. I wondered while I was reading whether or not Camilla was in fact the woman Elizabeth Taylor thought she herself might have become had she not settled down to married life and motherhood.
Afternoons seem unending on branch-line stations in England in summer time. The spiked shelter prints an unmoving shadow on the platform, geraniums blaze, whitewashed stones assault the eye. Such trains as come only add to the air of fantasy, to the idea of the scene being symbolic or encountered at one level while suggesting another even more alienating.
In a Wreath of Roses close friends Camilla and Liz are spending a glorious month together with the ageing Frances. This is a holiday they have had together for many successive summers, but things are changing. Liz is quite newly married and now has a young son, her husband is a vicar and their home is close enough for him to visit a few times during the course of the visit. While travelling by train to Abingford a shocking incident throws Camilla into conversation with a man she had noticed on the station. She recognises him as someone she wouldn’t usually associate with – and yet is instantly interested in him. Camilla is an insecure dissatisfied single woman, her life is narrow, and she feels excluded from her friend Liz's baby and new married life, while at the same time disliking her friend’s husband and unable to raise any enthusiasm for their baby son . Liz's old governess Frances with whom they are staying is concerned with her own painting, her rheumatism and the arrival of a friend. The man from the train, Richard Elton, is staying at a nearby hotel and Camilla throws herself in his way much to Liz’s bewilderment. Camilla's unlikely entanglement with Richard Elton, seems at first merely unwise, yet as the novel progresses - it becomes rather more chilling. It takes however the reader and especially Camilla a long time to realise exactly what sort of man Richard Elton is. Meanwhile, Frances anticipates the arrival of a friend with whom she has corresponded with for years but never met. Morland Beddoes – a film director – once saw a picture of Frances’s and having bought it became captivated by the idea of the artist.
The characters are brilliantly observed, and this novel is a wonderful exploration of friendships. The interplay between the characters feels very real. Elizabeth Taylor’s portrayal of Liz’s life, and the slightly dangerous Richard, with his peculiar lies feels breathtakingly accurate. I suspect there are some significantly autobiographical touches which I find a fascinating idea. Liz is the conventional young wife and mother, Camilla an independent woman, with lonely insecurities. I wondered while I was reading whether or not Camilla was in fact the woman Elizabeth Taylor thought she herself might have become had she not settled down to married life and motherhood.
March 11, 2020
This the 3rd novel I have read by Elizabeth Taylor. The first one was Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont and I very much liked that, and the 2nd was Blaming which I did not like nearly as much. I also read a short story collection and enjoyed it: The Devastating Boys. I think after reading the short story collection, and knowing what I knew about Elizabeth Taylor, I decided to get every work of fiction by her. I figured if I didn’t try and sample more of her oeuvre it would be my loss. Her books have been reissued by Virago as Modern Classics, and what is nice about these editions is an Introduction by a notable fiction writer. So with “A Wreath of Roses” I was fortunate to read an Introduction by Helen Dunmore. Unfortunately Helen died at an early age of 64 in 2017 from cancer. I had read two of her novels including The Siege (2001, about the Siege of Leningrad, shortlisted for the Orange and Whitbread prizes). I was quite impressed with Helen Dunmore’s Introduction. A joy to read….I felt the same way she felt about this book.
I think I need to be careful how I review Elizabeth Taylor from here on in. I need to remember (and did while reading this novel) that most novels I read by her will be at least 60-70 years old, if not older. So, yes, something things she says will be dated and must be taken in the context in which she existed, and whether her works were to be set in the current day. If that is the case, I just need to take that into consideration. My point is that I really really enjoyed this novel although there were times at which the writing or terms used were dated. And so be it, I am fine with that. Wow, this author knows how to write! I know she has many fans since her oeuvre is re-issued by Virago and also by the New York Review of Books. I was introduced to her by reading a collection of letters written back and forth between William Maxwell (former fiction editor of the New Yorker and a masterful writer of novels and short stories) and Eudora Welty – they both admired her, and talked about her in their letters to each other.
This novel is portrayed as being Taylor’s most darkest novel. So when reading this I had this sense of foreboding…what bad thing(s) are going to happen? Taylor keeps the reader in suspense. I read the book in one day. It was a literary treat. I hope I convince those who have not read Elizabeth Taylor’s works to give her a try!
Here is a snippet near the end of the novel that I very much liked – the narrator, Frances, is an older woman who is a painter and her comments intrigued me…like I had never thought about such things that way:
The blue was thickening into lavender as if evening were coming already.
‘This curious light,’ Frances began, and then stopped. She put her parasol away and shaded her eyes with her hand, looking to left and right along the valley. She sighed. ‘Oh, it goes away,’ she thought, striking her hands together in her lap. ‘It can’t ever be caught or described. For it is one earth one moment and another earth in a second or two. Life itself is an unfinished sentence, or a few haphazard brush-strokes. Nothing stays. Nothing is completed. I can make nothing whole from it, however small. Pinned down, like a butterfly, it ceases to be itself, just as the butterfly becomes something else; dead, unmoving, its brightness gone. The meaning of a painting is a voice crying out: “I saw it. Before it vanished, it was thus.” An honest painting would never be finished; an honest novel would stop in the middle of a sentence. There is not shutting life up in a cage, turning the key with a full-stop, with a stroke of paint.’:
Nice review from The Guardian (UK): https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...
I think I need to be careful how I review Elizabeth Taylor from here on in. I need to remember (and did while reading this novel) that most novels I read by her will be at least 60-70 years old, if not older. So, yes, something things she says will be dated and must be taken in the context in which she existed, and whether her works were to be set in the current day. If that is the case, I just need to take that into consideration. My point is that I really really enjoyed this novel although there were times at which the writing or terms used were dated. And so be it, I am fine with that. Wow, this author knows how to write! I know she has many fans since her oeuvre is re-issued by Virago and also by the New York Review of Books. I was introduced to her by reading a collection of letters written back and forth between William Maxwell (former fiction editor of the New Yorker and a masterful writer of novels and short stories) and Eudora Welty – they both admired her, and talked about her in their letters to each other.
This novel is portrayed as being Taylor’s most darkest novel. So when reading this I had this sense of foreboding…what bad thing(s) are going to happen? Taylor keeps the reader in suspense. I read the book in one day. It was a literary treat. I hope I convince those who have not read Elizabeth Taylor’s works to give her a try!
Here is a snippet near the end of the novel that I very much liked – the narrator, Frances, is an older woman who is a painter and her comments intrigued me…like I had never thought about such things that way:
The blue was thickening into lavender as if evening were coming already.
‘This curious light,’ Frances began, and then stopped. She put her parasol away and shaded her eyes with her hand, looking to left and right along the valley. She sighed. ‘Oh, it goes away,’ she thought, striking her hands together in her lap. ‘It can’t ever be caught or described. For it is one earth one moment and another earth in a second or two. Life itself is an unfinished sentence, or a few haphazard brush-strokes. Nothing stays. Nothing is completed. I can make nothing whole from it, however small. Pinned down, like a butterfly, it ceases to be itself, just as the butterfly becomes something else; dead, unmoving, its brightness gone. The meaning of a painting is a voice crying out: “I saw it. Before it vanished, it was thus.” An honest painting would never be finished; an honest novel would stop in the middle of a sentence. There is not shutting life up in a cage, turning the key with a full-stop, with a stroke of paint.’:
Nice review from The Guardian (UK): https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...
April 28, 2016
A perfect specimen of this particular genus, suitable for mounting and displaying in ones museyroom.
October 9, 2018
I originally purchased Elizabeth Taylor's A Wreath of Roses in order to participate in a group read, but was unable to wait, and started it almost as soon as I received a copy. I adore Elizabeth Taylor; she is one of my favourite authors, and without Virago's republication of her novels and short stories, it may well have taken me far longer to discover her. A Wreath of Roses is number 392 on the Virago Modern Classics list, and was first published in 1949.
Of her writing, fellow Virago-published author Rosamond Lehmann said it is 'sophisticated, sensitive and brilliantly amusing, with a kind of stripped, piercing feminine wit.' The Daily Telegraph calls her a 'fearsome writer, ruthless in her examination of solitude, and a sparkling chronicler of ordinary lives.' Kingsley Amis regarded her as 'one of the best English novelists born in this century.
The Virago edition which I read included a warm introduction written by Helen Dunmore. She writes that A Wreath of Roses has been 'called Elizabeth Taylor's darkest novel, dealing as it does with murder, loneliness, terror and suicide.' She goes on to make a comparison between Taylor and Virginia Woolf. She writes: 'Like Woolf, Taylor is fearless in her handling of tragedy and mental suffering'.
The protagonist of A Wreath of Roses is a young woman named Camilla Hill. Each year, she spends the summer in the countryside with two women who are very dear to her. 'But this year,' notes the novel's blurb, 'their private absorptions - Frances with her painting and Liz with her baby - seem to exclude her from the gossipy intimacies of previous holidays. Feeling lonely, and that life and love are passing her by, Camilla steps into an unlikely liaison with Richard Elton, handsome, assured - and a dangerous liar.' The novel is set in the aftermath of the Second World War, and takes place in a small village named Abingford somewhere in England, within 'the blazing heart of an English summer.' This village, writes Dunmore, is 'hypnotically beautiful, but never idyllic.' She deems this an 'unflinching novel, which probes deep into the self-deceptions that grow up in order to soften life, and end up by choking it like so many weeds.'
A Wreath of Roses begins at the train station of this small English village, where Camilla spots a man on the platform. Taylor's description of their staunch British behaviour is demonstrated thus: 'Once the train which had left them on the platform had drawn out,' writes Taylor, 'the man and woman trod separately up and down, read time-tables in turn, were conscious of one another in the way that strangers are, when thrown together without a reason for conversation. A word or two would have put them at ease, but there were no words to say. The heat of the afternoon was beyond comment and could not draw them together as hailstones might have done.'
It is not long afterwards that Camilla sees a 'shabby man' throw himself from the train bridge, and Taylor comments upon how this event drastically impacts upon Camilla: 'This happening broke the afternoon in two. The feeling of eternity had vanished. What had been timeless and silent became chaotic and disorganised, with feet running along the echoing boards, voices staccato, and the afternoon darkening with the vultures of disaster, who felt the presence of death and arrived from the village to savour it and to explain the happening to one another.'
Taylor's novels are beautiful, and full of depth. She is an author who is so perceptive of the tiny things which make up a life. A Wreath of Roses is no different in this respect. Dunmore believes that 'she writes with a sensuous richness of language that draws the reader down the most shadowy paths.' She goes on to further describe Taylor's writing style, pointing out that she 'has a way of seeming to be one kind of writer, and then revealing herself to be quite another, or, perhaps, to be a writer who is capable of inhabiting many selves at the same time.' Dunmore beautifully comments upon the essence of her art, when she writes that 'Taylor makes the living moment present, touchable, disturbing, enchanting.' The imagery which she creates is rich, and often quite lovely. For instance, Taylor writes of an English summer night in the following way: 'Trees and the hedgerows were as dark as blackberries against the starry sky; a little owl took off from a telegraph-post, floating down noiselessly across a field of stubble.'
Taylor seems to effortlessly capture real, human feelings, and the way in which relationships can shift and change so quickly. She is perhaps most understanding of protagonist Camilla's altered position, both in life and in Abingford: she 'felt as if the day had been a dream, that she would come out of it soon, lifting fold after fold of muffling web; for this could not be real - meeting Liz again after eleven months and finding herself so alienated from her that she would show off to her about a man.' Throughout, the reader is given hints about Richard's sinister edge, but these are hidden from Camilla. In this way, we are forced to watch the somewhat dark consequences of the relationship which she embarks upon with him. Through these characters, Taylor explores in great deal how the expectations which we have of someone, and the effects which they have upon us, can be so terribly damaging. The tenseness within the novel builds, and is masterfully put in place until it feels almost claustrophobic.
I could hardly bear to put A Wreath of Roses down. Taylor has a style all of her own, and whilst this novel is in some ways quite different to the rest of her oeuvre, it is characteristically hers. I was surprised by the twists which this story takes, and the ending completely surprised me. A Wreath of Roses is a masterful novel, which shows an author at the peak of her power.
Of her writing, fellow Virago-published author Rosamond Lehmann said it is 'sophisticated, sensitive and brilliantly amusing, with a kind of stripped, piercing feminine wit.' The Daily Telegraph calls her a 'fearsome writer, ruthless in her examination of solitude, and a sparkling chronicler of ordinary lives.' Kingsley Amis regarded her as 'one of the best English novelists born in this century.
The Virago edition which I read included a warm introduction written by Helen Dunmore. She writes that A Wreath of Roses has been 'called Elizabeth Taylor's darkest novel, dealing as it does with murder, loneliness, terror and suicide.' She goes on to make a comparison between Taylor and Virginia Woolf. She writes: 'Like Woolf, Taylor is fearless in her handling of tragedy and mental suffering'.
The protagonist of A Wreath of Roses is a young woman named Camilla Hill. Each year, she spends the summer in the countryside with two women who are very dear to her. 'But this year,' notes the novel's blurb, 'their private absorptions - Frances with her painting and Liz with her baby - seem to exclude her from the gossipy intimacies of previous holidays. Feeling lonely, and that life and love are passing her by, Camilla steps into an unlikely liaison with Richard Elton, handsome, assured - and a dangerous liar.' The novel is set in the aftermath of the Second World War, and takes place in a small village named Abingford somewhere in England, within 'the blazing heart of an English summer.' This village, writes Dunmore, is 'hypnotically beautiful, but never idyllic.' She deems this an 'unflinching novel, which probes deep into the self-deceptions that grow up in order to soften life, and end up by choking it like so many weeds.'
A Wreath of Roses begins at the train station of this small English village, where Camilla spots a man on the platform. Taylor's description of their staunch British behaviour is demonstrated thus: 'Once the train which had left them on the platform had drawn out,' writes Taylor, 'the man and woman trod separately up and down, read time-tables in turn, were conscious of one another in the way that strangers are, when thrown together without a reason for conversation. A word or two would have put them at ease, but there were no words to say. The heat of the afternoon was beyond comment and could not draw them together as hailstones might have done.'
It is not long afterwards that Camilla sees a 'shabby man' throw himself from the train bridge, and Taylor comments upon how this event drastically impacts upon Camilla: 'This happening broke the afternoon in two. The feeling of eternity had vanished. What had been timeless and silent became chaotic and disorganised, with feet running along the echoing boards, voices staccato, and the afternoon darkening with the vultures of disaster, who felt the presence of death and arrived from the village to savour it and to explain the happening to one another.'
Taylor's novels are beautiful, and full of depth. She is an author who is so perceptive of the tiny things which make up a life. A Wreath of Roses is no different in this respect. Dunmore believes that 'she writes with a sensuous richness of language that draws the reader down the most shadowy paths.' She goes on to further describe Taylor's writing style, pointing out that she 'has a way of seeming to be one kind of writer, and then revealing herself to be quite another, or, perhaps, to be a writer who is capable of inhabiting many selves at the same time.' Dunmore beautifully comments upon the essence of her art, when she writes that 'Taylor makes the living moment present, touchable, disturbing, enchanting.' The imagery which she creates is rich, and often quite lovely. For instance, Taylor writes of an English summer night in the following way: 'Trees and the hedgerows were as dark as blackberries against the starry sky; a little owl took off from a telegraph-post, floating down noiselessly across a field of stubble.'
Taylor seems to effortlessly capture real, human feelings, and the way in which relationships can shift and change so quickly. She is perhaps most understanding of protagonist Camilla's altered position, both in life and in Abingford: she 'felt as if the day had been a dream, that she would come out of it soon, lifting fold after fold of muffling web; for this could not be real - meeting Liz again after eleven months and finding herself so alienated from her that she would show off to her about a man.' Throughout, the reader is given hints about Richard's sinister edge, but these are hidden from Camilla. In this way, we are forced to watch the somewhat dark consequences of the relationship which she embarks upon with him. Through these characters, Taylor explores in great deal how the expectations which we have of someone, and the effects which they have upon us, can be so terribly damaging. The tenseness within the novel builds, and is masterfully put in place until it feels almost claustrophobic.
I could hardly bear to put A Wreath of Roses down. Taylor has a style all of her own, and whilst this novel is in some ways quite different to the rest of her oeuvre, it is characteristically hers. I was surprised by the twists which this story takes, and the ending completely surprised me. A Wreath of Roses is a masterful novel, which shows an author at the peak of her power.
April 20, 2012
Three women spend a week together in the country. They have done this for many years, but this year something has changed.
Liz has married and she has a baby son, but she is uncertain in the role of wife and mother. Camilla is a school secretary, and she is acutely aware that her frien’d life has changed while hers has not. Frances, their hostess, used to be Liz’s governess before she became an artist, and her increasing awareness of her mortality is beginning to influence her painting.
They all know that things have changed, but not one of them will admit it.
The plot is moved forward by the arrivals of three men.
Liz’s husband comes to reclaim her for just a little while. Frances meets an admirer of her work, a man she has corresponded with for many years, for the first time. And Camilla forms a relationship with a man she has doubts about, a man she met at the station when they were both witnesses to a tragedy.
The plot is light, but it is enough.
The joy of this book is in Elizabeth Taylor’s crystal clear drawing of her characters and their relationships, in the perectly realised world she creates for them in the country, and in the profound truths she illuminates.
Elizabeth Jane Howard, writing about another of Elizabeth Taylor’s novels, expresses it so much better than I can:
“… this book displays the full spectrum of her talents – the economy with which she can present a character, the skill with which she build the environment and the daily lives of her people so that you feel you know exactly what they might be doing even when they are not on the scene, her delicious funniness which is born of her own unique blend of humanity and razor-sharp observation that enables her to be sardonic, devastating, witty and sly, but mysteriously without malice …”
This is a book that will draw you in, take possession of your heart and soul, and linger long after you turn the final page.
There is so much that could be said, but I don’t have the words.
I just want to think and feel.
Liz has married and she has a baby son, but she is uncertain in the role of wife and mother. Camilla is a school secretary, and she is acutely aware that her frien’d life has changed while hers has not. Frances, their hostess, used to be Liz’s governess before she became an artist, and her increasing awareness of her mortality is beginning to influence her painting.
They all know that things have changed, but not one of them will admit it.
The plot is moved forward by the arrivals of three men.
Liz’s husband comes to reclaim her for just a little while. Frances meets an admirer of her work, a man she has corresponded with for many years, for the first time. And Camilla forms a relationship with a man she has doubts about, a man she met at the station when they were both witnesses to a tragedy.
The plot is light, but it is enough.
The joy of this book is in Elizabeth Taylor’s crystal clear drawing of her characters and their relationships, in the perectly realised world she creates for them in the country, and in the profound truths she illuminates.
Elizabeth Jane Howard, writing about another of Elizabeth Taylor’s novels, expresses it so much better than I can:
“… this book displays the full spectrum of her talents – the economy with which she can present a character, the skill with which she build the environment and the daily lives of her people so that you feel you know exactly what they might be doing even when they are not on the scene, her delicious funniness which is born of her own unique blend of humanity and razor-sharp observation that enables her to be sardonic, devastating, witty and sly, but mysteriously without malice …”
This is a book that will draw you in, take possession of your heart and soul, and linger long after you turn the final page.
There is so much that could be said, but I don’t have the words.
I just want to think and feel.
November 7, 2018
This was the November pick for the Elizabeth Taylor Reading Project group.
I think this has been my favourite Elizabeth Taylor novel so far mainly because of its' darkness, the portrayal of the women and their ever changing feelings towards one another over that Summer and just shows how quickly life can change for anyone. It could well have been called '3 unhappy women under 1 roof'!
Camilla is used to spending the Summer months with her friends, Frances and Liz, but as the years have gone by their circumstances have changed. Liz is a new mum so her priorities have changed, and Frances is an artist going through depression and doesn't really seem to want her friends around. So Camilla takes herself off for walks and bumps into a man who she first met on the train getting there, where they both witnessed a tragic event, and she is swept up in believing all he tells her as he seems to have the gift of the gab.
You find yourself wondering why Camilla is so trusting of this man and discusses things with him that she'd never tell her long standing friends. Frances and Liz are suffering their own personal issues so you're left to watch just how these restless women plan to work out their problems and how they're all unhappy with where their lives are but seem unwilling to do much about it.
It's not the cheeriest of tales and deals with anxiety, loneliness and solitude but the way the author picks up on the smallest detail really draws you into the worlds of these women and there are a few dark shocks along the way.
I think this has been my favourite Elizabeth Taylor novel so far mainly because of its' darkness, the portrayal of the women and their ever changing feelings towards one another over that Summer and just shows how quickly life can change for anyone. It could well have been called '3 unhappy women under 1 roof'!
Camilla is used to spending the Summer months with her friends, Frances and Liz, but as the years have gone by their circumstances have changed. Liz is a new mum so her priorities have changed, and Frances is an artist going through depression and doesn't really seem to want her friends around. So Camilla takes herself off for walks and bumps into a man who she first met on the train getting there, where they both witnessed a tragic event, and she is swept up in believing all he tells her as he seems to have the gift of the gab.
You find yourself wondering why Camilla is so trusting of this man and discusses things with him that she'd never tell her long standing friends. Frances and Liz are suffering their own personal issues so you're left to watch just how these restless women plan to work out their problems and how they're all unhappy with where their lives are but seem unwilling to do much about it.
It's not the cheeriest of tales and deals with anxiety, loneliness and solitude but the way the author picks up on the smallest detail really draws you into the worlds of these women and there are a few dark shocks along the way.
November 3, 2018
I'll just start by saying this is my least favorite of the 4 Taylor novels I've read thus far. I felt as if I was being required to read between the lines to understand a lot of what was going on. I'm an utter failure at reading between the lines. If you want me to know something you have to say it outright.
Everyone seemed to know that Richard Elton was not the right type, just from looking at him. One character was afraid for Camilla. What did they see? We're never told. Of course, the reader having been told he isn't the right type and Camilla might be in danger, we see inside the man's character. So they were right, but I still don't know why they knew what they knew.
None of the women are comfortable in their own skin - except for Frances, perhaps, and even she hides herself when in the company of others. Liz and Camilla were best friends during school and now as adults love each other still. But neither thinks the other has set herself in the right direction in life. Liz is married to a man Camilla despises while Liz thinks Camilla should be married.
In the end, I think Taylor just shows us we make it through life the best we can. We don't always have the opportunity to take life in the direction we'd most like, we might not be the person we'd like to be. But for me to come to those conclusions, I still have to read between the lines and that might not be what this is about at all. Three stars, because with Taylor's writing style, she will never be less.
Everyone seemed to know that Richard Elton was not the right type, just from looking at him. One character was afraid for Camilla. What did they see? We're never told. Of course, the reader having been told he isn't the right type and Camilla might be in danger, we see inside the man's character. So they were right, but I still don't know why they knew what they knew.
None of the women are comfortable in their own skin - except for Frances, perhaps, and even she hides herself when in the company of others. Liz and Camilla were best friends during school and now as adults love each other still. But neither thinks the other has set herself in the right direction in life. Liz is married to a man Camilla despises while Liz thinks Camilla should be married.
In the end, I think Taylor just shows us we make it through life the best we can. We don't always have the opportunity to take life in the direction we'd most like, we might not be the person we'd like to be. But for me to come to those conclusions, I still have to read between the lines and that might not be what this is about at all. Three stars, because with Taylor's writing style, she will never be less.
November 20, 2018
Elizabeth Taylor's forth novel, read for the Elizabeth Taylor Reading project. Apparently known as her darkest novel.
The story opens with Camilla heading to Francis's house where she spends her annual holiday with her friend Liz. She witnesses a suicide on the platform along with Richard Elton, who is heading for the same town. Once there, she finds that her other friends are preoccupied, Liz with her baby and Francis with her painting, so she strikes up a friendship with Richard, who is thoroughly untrustworthy.
The suicide right at the beginning sets the tone for this novel and it all feels rather bleak, however, it is a beautifully written novel and I'm really looking forward to carrying on with this project.
The story opens with Camilla heading to Francis's house where she spends her annual holiday with her friend Liz. She witnesses a suicide on the platform along with Richard Elton, who is heading for the same town. Once there, she finds that her other friends are preoccupied, Liz with her baby and Francis with her painting, so she strikes up a friendship with Richard, who is thoroughly untrustworthy.
The suicide right at the beginning sets the tone for this novel and it all feels rather bleak, however, it is a beautifully written novel and I'm really looking forward to carrying on with this project.
May 16, 2023
¿Es posible armar una novela donde todo importe, sea trascendental y atractivo? Sí, Una corona de rosas parece lograr eso. Porque Elizabeth Taylor, la maravillosa autora de Prohibido morir aquí, arma un argumento para que ocurra en un veraneo lo esencial de la vida. 3 mujeres pasan como siempre sus vacaciones en una casa de la campiña inglesa. Y allí comprueban cómo los cambios del paso del tiempo afectó la amistad. Aparece la últma chance del amor para una "solterona" y para una mujer con ya achaques de la vejez. Y allí irrumpe lo inesperado. Genial traducción de Ernesto Montequin. Los personajes hablan de un modo brillante, del mismo modo que la autora narra y describe. Hay muchísimas frases para subrayar. Y una historia que como dice la autora, cuenta la vida misma condensada en un par de semanas. Maravillosa.
April 22, 2019
Wow. This wasn’t what I expected at all. Much darker. Remarkable psychological insight into all the characters and their relationships with each other, and with loneliness. Also about the frustrations faced by women. And such gorgeous evocative writing. Brilliant! Again, I’m glad I am so late to the Elizabeth Taylor party because I’ve still got a lot of great treats ahead.
April 28, 2020
Readers of my blog will be familiar with my love of Elizabeth Taylor’s fiction, the perfectly executed stories of human nature, the small-scale dramas of domestic life, typically characterised by careful observation and insight. First published in 1949, A Wreath of Roses is one of Taylor’s earliest novels – and quite possibly her darkest too with its exploration of fear, loneliness, mortality and lies. It also feels like one of her most accomplished works, a novel in which the characters seem credible and fully realised in light of the interactions that take place during. (In short, I adored it.)
As the novel opens, Camilla – an unmarried secretary at a girls’ school – is travelling by train to Abingford where she will spend the summer with her friend, Liz, and Liz’s former governess, Frances. The holiday is an annual tradition, hosted by Frances – now a mature spinster – in her cottage in the country.
The novel’s unsettling tone is evident right from the start when a horrific incident occurs at the station as Camilla is waiting for her train. As a consequence, Camilla is drawn into conversation with a stranger – also a witness to the event – even though he is the type of man she would generally avoid. Their exchange is prickly, somewhat terse in fact; and yet Camilla finds herself strangely attracted to this man with his air of mystery and good looks.
The stranger is Richard Elton, a man who claims to be travelling to Abingford on a sort of nostalgia trip, having visited the location as a child. The reader, however, will soon begin to doubt the veracity of Elton’s account, peppered as it is with clues to the man’s true background and persona. While Camilla doesn’t like Elton, she is drawn to him – enough to make a mental note that he will be staying at The Griffin pub during his visit.
To read the rest of my review, please visit:
https://jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2020...
As the novel opens, Camilla – an unmarried secretary at a girls’ school – is travelling by train to Abingford where she will spend the summer with her friend, Liz, and Liz’s former governess, Frances. The holiday is an annual tradition, hosted by Frances – now a mature spinster – in her cottage in the country.
The novel’s unsettling tone is evident right from the start when a horrific incident occurs at the station as Camilla is waiting for her train. As a consequence, Camilla is drawn into conversation with a stranger – also a witness to the event – even though he is the type of man she would generally avoid. Their exchange is prickly, somewhat terse in fact; and yet Camilla finds herself strangely attracted to this man with his air of mystery and good looks.
The stranger is Richard Elton, a man who claims to be travelling to Abingford on a sort of nostalgia trip, having visited the location as a child. The reader, however, will soon begin to doubt the veracity of Elton’s account, peppered as it is with clues to the man’s true background and persona. While Camilla doesn’t like Elton, she is drawn to him – enough to make a mental note that he will be staying at The Griffin pub during his visit.
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April 15, 2021
"It is like Ophelia handing out her flowers, the last terrible gesture but one."
This is often considered Taylor's "darkest" novel, but that doesn't mean much, in truth, since her genius lies in combining the macabre with the most seemingly banal situations in her works. Whether this be giddy madness (Angel) or failure (A Game of Hide and Seek), Taylor's almost rude narratives, rude for their forthrightness, beautiful for her playfulness, happily meld light and dark into something weird and different. In Roses, we encounter three women who go on holiday once a year together, but the years passing are changing them and this might be the last year together. There is Frances, the steadily bleakening painter, Liz, new mother, and Camilla, the directionless would-be adventuress. Camilla is the central pivot. She meets Richard, a consummate master of deceit, after they witness a railway suicide together, and begin their mutually-reciprocal spiral into self-deception and naivete.
Taylor has a knack for narrative tectonics. Think Jane Austen novel suddenly turning into slasher film (but without a knife in sight) and you get the general idea. Taylor thrives on suddenly unsettling the reader with painterly evils. Roses, coming as it does after the more whimsical A View of the Harbour, showcases this in fine fetter.
This is often considered Taylor's "darkest" novel, but that doesn't mean much, in truth, since her genius lies in combining the macabre with the most seemingly banal situations in her works. Whether this be giddy madness (Angel) or failure (A Game of Hide and Seek), Taylor's almost rude narratives, rude for their forthrightness, beautiful for her playfulness, happily meld light and dark into something weird and different. In Roses, we encounter three women who go on holiday once a year together, but the years passing are changing them and this might be the last year together. There is Frances, the steadily bleakening painter, Liz, new mother, and Camilla, the directionless would-be adventuress. Camilla is the central pivot. She meets Richard, a consummate master of deceit, after they witness a railway suicide together, and begin their mutually-reciprocal spiral into self-deception and naivete.
Taylor has a knack for narrative tectonics. Think Jane Austen novel suddenly turning into slasher film (but without a knife in sight) and you get the general idea. Taylor thrives on suddenly unsettling the reader with painterly evils. Roses, coming as it does after the more whimsical A View of the Harbour, showcases this in fine fetter.
Read
August 18, 2016Unfortunately, this is my least favourite of the Elizabeth Taylor novels I’ve read so far. It surprised me how little I liked it as I have been hugely impressed by Taylor’s writing by the six or so books of hers I’ve read. In general I’m not a huge fan of delicate short novels about middle class English women – I need a bit more blood and guts and soul in my reading – but I was won over on account of simply how brilliant her writing is. The Wreath of Roses should therefore have been a big hit for me, as this is meant to be the novel where Taylor gets real and includes topics such as suicide, murder, ageing, and liaisons with strange men in bars. But sadly this was a big disappointment. The book seemed very maudlin – three women in a house over summer all feeling sorry for themselves for no real reason. Taylor’s dialogue is normally exquisite and usually very funny too – but here the dialogue felt rushed and as if it had only been included to bulk up the pages. The twist at the end didn’t seem realistic at all. I found myself skim-reading this book after the half way point, because I couldn’t see it getting any better and it didn’t. It also felt a bit didactic; as if Taylor was telling you what things meant rather than just allowing the reader to read and interpret at leisure.
Strangely this novel felt like a bad parody of a Taylor novel instead of the real thing.
I would urge any new readers of Taylor to start with a different text to this – A Wreath of Roses doesn’t do her justice at all. Angel would be an obvious choice, or A Game Of Hide And Seek perhaps. I’m not going to be put off Taylor completely by this one failure; but this does cast a shadow over what hitherto seemed (for me) a great and loveable oeuvre.
Strangely this novel felt like a bad parody of a Taylor novel instead of the real thing.
I would urge any new readers of Taylor to start with a different text to this – A Wreath of Roses doesn’t do her justice at all. Angel would be an obvious choice, or A Game Of Hide And Seek perhaps. I’m not going to be put off Taylor completely by this one failure; but this does cast a shadow over what hitherto seemed (for me) a great and loveable oeuvre.
September 12, 2018
If Virginia Woolf had had insight into the characters of 'normal' people rather than neurotic intellectuals, or if Katherine Mansfield had had healthy lungs, the two might have collaborated on this remarkably good novel. I was fascinated by it, not least because after the dramatic opening with the suicide on the railway, very little happens until the genuinely tense finale (which I'm sure is influenced by the activities of the notorious murderer, Neville Heath).
What we get instead of 'plot' is brilliant psychological portraiture, crisp epigrammatic wit, and a plenitude of wise insights. I filled two pages of my commonplace book jotting down Taylor's at times acerbic observations. 'It is very strange,' she thought, 'that the years teach us patience; that the shorter our time, the greater our capacity for waiting.'
The only other Taylor novel I've read is 'Angel'. It's more obviously satirical in intention, but its final third has a gloomy poignancy which I didn't expect, and which I found rather moving. 'A Wreath of Roses' has a similar sensitivity to atmosphere and the tragedies of the inevitable, as with the aging artist who realises that she is at work on what will be her final painting. I wish there's been a little more narrative gusto in the middle section of the story, but the ending was very well worked. I'd give the book 5 stars for its maturity and understanding of human nature.
I'm looking forward to reading more of Taylor's work. She's an intriguing discovery.
What we get instead of 'plot' is brilliant psychological portraiture, crisp epigrammatic wit, and a plenitude of wise insights. I filled two pages of my commonplace book jotting down Taylor's at times acerbic observations. 'It is very strange,' she thought, 'that the years teach us patience; that the shorter our time, the greater our capacity for waiting.'
The only other Taylor novel I've read is 'Angel'. It's more obviously satirical in intention, but its final third has a gloomy poignancy which I didn't expect, and which I found rather moving. 'A Wreath of Roses' has a similar sensitivity to atmosphere and the tragedies of the inevitable, as with the aging artist who realises that she is at work on what will be her final painting. I wish there's been a little more narrative gusto in the middle section of the story, but the ending was very well worked. I'd give the book 5 stars for its maturity and understanding of human nature.
I'm looking forward to reading more of Taylor's work. She's an intriguing discovery.
May 10, 2021
Another new author for me! Thanks to my GR friends Sara, and Jim Z.’s review which led me to this book.
This was a sad book, but beautifully written. I wouldn’t classify it as a thriller, but it’s a dark and suspenseful novel. It is a study of aging, friendship, and the power of sexual tension. We have three women who’ve known each other for years, and spend a month together each summer. Frances, Liz and Camilla seem to expect their friendship to remain the same and have difficulty accepting that things change as life progresses. All three of the women are struggling with something in their life. When I think of an English village I think of beauty and happiness, but this isn’t the case here. I’m always excited to read a new author especially when I want read more of their works.
This was a sad book, but beautifully written. I wouldn’t classify it as a thriller, but it’s a dark and suspenseful novel. It is a study of aging, friendship, and the power of sexual tension. We have three women who’ve known each other for years, and spend a month together each summer. Frances, Liz and Camilla seem to expect their friendship to remain the same and have difficulty accepting that things change as life progresses. All three of the women are struggling with something in their life. When I think of an English village I think of beauty and happiness, but this isn’t the case here. I’m always excited to read a new author especially when I want read more of their works.
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