Personal Pleasures

by Rose Macaulay

Rose Macaulay was one of the most popular satirical novelists of her day. In this lively, anecdotal collection, she turns her admittedly opinionated attention to life's random, and largely unrecorded, pleasures. From as-tronomy to new cars, church-going to the turtles in Hyde Park, she never fails to delight and amuse with her sure philosophical sense, sharp wit, and unerring eye for life's subtle ironies. "How true it is that every pleasure has also its reverse side, in brief, its pain. Therefore, I have added to most of my pleasures the little flavor of bitterness, the flaw in their perfec-tions ...which tang their sweetness and remind us of their mortality and our own, and that nothing in this world is perfect."

Genres: Essays, Nonfiction, Memoir, Books About Books, British Literature, Biography Memoir

395 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1936

About the author

Emilie Rose Macaulay, whom Elizabeth Bowen called "one of the few writers of whom it may be said, she adorns our century," was born at Rugby, where her father was an assistant master. Descended on both sides from a long line of clerical ancestors, she felt Anglicanism was in her blood. Much of her childhood was spent in Varazze, near Genoa, and memories of Italy fill the early novels. The family returned to England in 1894 and settled in Oxford. She read history at Somerville, and on coming down lived with her family first in Wales, then near Cambridge, where her father had been appointed a lecturer in English. There she began a writing career which was to span fifty years with the publication of her first novel, Abbots Verney, in 1906. When her sixth novel, The Lee Shore (1912), won a literary prize, a gift from her uncle allowed her to rent a tiny flat in London, and she plunged happily into London literary life.

From BookRags: http://www.bookrags.com/biography/ros...

Reviews

[Alwynne · Rating 3 out of 5]

When Rose Macaulay first published this collection of personal essays in 1935, reviewers were struck by her love of language, something that became her lifelong obsession. Scattered through these are a number of her own, newly-coined terms, nestling inside long, winding sentences which are sometimes evocative or thought-provoking, and sometimes a little overly fragrant or ornate. This was intended as a gift book, one to dip into, rather than read in one go, so it’s ordered alphabetically, with brief descriptive titles narrowing down Macaulay’s chosen topics. Macaulay presents a range of random thoughts on elephants, driving, book collecting, reading and even flattery. Her approach’s deliberately erudite, highly referential, drawing on a vast array of writers from Ben Johnson and Boswell to Walt Whitman. But my favourite entries were the more personal ones: the bliss of finding herself alone after her house guests have left, her joy in flying a plane or driving, and a small selection of childhood memories from chasing fireflies to waking early on Christmas mornings. Together these essays provide an insight into aspects of everyday life and literary culture in the 1920s and 30s, but they also form a sort of fragmented memoir, a portrait of Macaulay through her tastes and habits. This new edition’s edited by Kate Macdonald who’s included a foreword that fills in the book’s background as well as highlighting aspects of Macaulay’s history, and there’s a useful section at the end with notes on the more obscure passages.

Thanks to Edelweiss Plus and publisher Handheld Press for an arc

[JacquiWine · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a lovely book to dip into, a compendium of short essays and sketches on the things that gave Rose Macaulay pleasure during her life, covering a wide variety of subjects such as Bathing, Candlemas, Chasing fireflies and Driving a car. There are around sixty pieces here (mostly two or three pages in length), arranged alphabetically with a handy index at the front. Originally published in 1935 to sparkling reviews, Personal Pleasures has recently been reissued by Handheld Press (my thanks to the publishers for kindly providing a review copy).

Although Macaulay was in her mid-fifties when the book was first published, some of the most vivid entries reflect her childhood in Italy in the late 19th century. Chasing fireflies, for instance, recounts a midsummer eve tradition in the Macaulay family, high up in the Italian hills, the violet sky glittering with golden stars. Here we learn of summer nights, the air fragrant with the scent of citrus, with fireflies dancing around like ‘leaping gems’, flying amidst the myrtle shrubs and juniper by the light of a golden moon. These reflections on childhood pleasures are especially enjoyable, capturing a time of happiness in the sizeable Macaulay family.

Macaulay’s style is evocative and erudite – quite ornate at times, but always resplendent. In this passage, she is writing about beauty of seeing a flower shop at night, softly lit yet empty of customers, glowing mysteriously like a magical fairyland.

Golden baskets are piled high with pink roses; crimson roses riot in curious jars; hydrangeas make massed rainbows beneath many-coloured lights; tall lilies form a frieze behind, like liveried, guarding angels. […]

It is a scene so exquisite and so strange that it might be a mirage, to melt away before the wondering gaze. We will leave it, while it is still clear and brilliant; turn away and walk down the cold, empty, and echoing street, looking not back lest that bright garden be darkened and fled like a dream before dawn. (Flower shop in the night)

Even relatively simple pleasures, such as soaking in hot bath in winter, are elevated to the status of exalted rituals through Macaulay’s expressive prose – enhanced in this instance by the aroma of pine-scented bath salts.

Soaked in green light, with two small red ducks bobbing about me, I lie at ease, frayed nerves relaxed, numbed blood running round again on its appointed, circular mortal race, frozen brain melting, thawing, expanding into a strange exotic effervescence in this warm pine forest. Bare winter suddenly is changed to spring, (Hot bath)

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[Tania · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a collection of essays on the things that give Rose Macaulay pleasure, for example, getting into bed and staying there, chasing fireflies, finishing a book. As always with collections, some are better than others. I particularly enjoyed the one where she was writing in the style of a hard-boiled noir type of book, and one on the Book-sellers catalogue, where she splurges on books then reflects that "I need a new bookshelf. I am short of money. I could have read all these books in the British Musuem; some of them even from the London Library. In short, I am sober again. But I am glad that I was drunk." Who here hasn't felt like that.

Overall, while I enjoyed the flashes of humour, I did find the book a bit over-written, and never felt like reading more than one or two at a time.

*Many thanks to Edleweiss and Handheld press for a copy in exchange for my honest opinions*

[Julia · Rating 3 out of 5]

Here is one of the oddest of the odd inventions which man has sought out, this conveying to one another by marks scratched on paper thoughts privately conceived in the mind. It shows, as all the arts show, the infinite publicism of humankind, the sociability, the interdependence, which cannot endure to have a thought, to conceive a tale, a tune, a picture, an arrangement of words, or anything else, but all must forthwith be informed of it.

These opening lines to the essay titled "Reading" from this book really struck me; what an insightful comment that applies to blogging, Facebook, Twitter, or heck, even writing a book review on GoodReads! These phenomena were all scarcely a dream when Rose Macaulay wrote this compendium of essays on pleasurable things in life, but my reading of this book struck me with how unchanging many of life's pleasures are. The book is an alphabetical arrangement of wry, witty, short essays on pleasures stretching from "Abroad" (on traveling outside your own country) to "Writing". Some of my personal favorites included "Not Going to Parties", followed immediately by "Parties", the chapter on "Bed" which has two sections ("Getting into it" and "Not getting out of it"), and of course I have a soft spot for the chapter on "Astronomy". The author is British, living from the 1880s into the 1950s, and spending a good part of her childhood in Italy, so it was interesting to notice which pleasures struck an immediate resonance with me (despite the chasm of time and location that separate our experiences) and which seemed unfamiliar. Some of the most evocative and lovely chapters that made me respond, "Yes! Exactly!" were on the smell of bread baking, swimming in the ocean, and taking a hot bath on a cold day. As I write this, it is 100 degrees outside on a hot Texas afternoon, but the bath chapter made me shiver with the damp London winter fog and long to slip into a hot, hot bath.

[Chris · Rating 4 out of 5]

This one's not so much for reading as for savoring, bit by bit. Macaulay has a way of describing the pure, sensuous pleasures of life that make it very difficult not to go on a journey, revisit your favorite book, or go straight back to bed and pull up the covers -- just a few of the pleasures receiving their own chapter in this collection. (The chapter on "Bed," comprised of the sections "Getting In To" and "Not Getting Out Of," is perhaps my favorite.)

Recommended for fans of luxurious language, especially of the British variety.

[Christina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Best enjoyed in small doses. The iambic pentameter verse in Enlightenment custom, the reach for words beyond the Concise Oxford English dictionary, the peregrinations, the catalogues, can weary. If I encountered someone like this in the 21st century I'd dismiss her as a pretentious influencer who is trying too hard. Still, I figuratively clutch to my bosom a person who enjoys hot baths, Sundays, reading, taking umbrage, cinema the way I do.

[Carol Griffiths · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Towers of Trebizond is my favourite novel of all time so I enjoyed reading about Rose's pleasures and especially enjoyed her inimitable erudite, literary and witty style.

[emma · Rating 3 out of 5]

this book was nice to read like a little section every day

[Colleen · Rating 5 out of 5]

A charming read - that can be picked up and enjoyed at one’s leisure. The writer’s life and accomplishments as a female author make each short story that much more delightful.

[Jeff · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars. Fun breezing through Rose Macaulay’s idea of a good time. There are echoes of some of her characters in these essays on ‘personal pleasures,’ especially Crewe Train’s free-spirited Denham Dobie. I’m grateful to Handheld Press and Kate Macdonald for bringing this wry, self-deprecating, caustic, heartfelt, satiric, and genuine — yes, it’s all those things — collection back into print. This is an indispensable read for admirers and seasoned readers of Macaulay’s fiction.

[Phil Nicholls · Rating 4 out of 5]

This collection of essays was originally printed in 1935. As I had hoped, the book provided a fascinating insight into life during the 1930s. To my amazement, Macaulay included short essays about book auctions and booksellers’ catalogues. Both of these topics will prove very helpful for the game I am vaguely considering.

Macaulay’s style was chatty, yet academic. I did not catch all of her references, even with the extensive footnotes. On the whole, however, this did not distract from her breezy style. I may not read the whole collection again, but I can see myself dipping in to revisit various essays.

[Patricia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Evocative, erudite, funny! Her approach to daily things like walking and going to sleep is imaginative and joyful.

[Kristi · Rating 2 out of 5]

Meh.

A collection of essays. My favorites were 'Elephants in Bloomsbury' and 'Flying'.

I much prefer a novel, but this was okay for a book I picked up from the 'give and take' shelf.