Betty Barbara here--again--- Just finished a re-read of Winter of Change.
Hrumph--I shall save my comments until we reach the review. I will
say it is one of the few Betty books that I have hurled across the room.
This was exactly how I felt about it the first time I read
it.
No hard feelings, Betty. I still love you.
Still, I should probably prepare you for a slightly more favorable
re-read on my part. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I worked mightily to
root out every kernel of charm planted therein. Let's see if that gets
us anywhere...
Mary Jane Pettigrew,
22, is plain, has 'rabbity' teeth and supports herself on her own
meagre earnings. She is a 'good' nurse--the kind who makes patients
comfortable and pettily tyrannical Ward Sisters grind their teeth.
Upon
receiving an urgent phone call, she rushes home to her grandfather--her
only living relative. He's dying. It says much for the state of their
relationship that she wasn't notified of his illness or his plans for
her inheritance and is told summarily that she is to get a guardian (at
her age!) along with the house and his fortune.
Grandfather is one of
those throw-backs who scouted high and low for a near-ish male relative
(his cousin or cousin's son or cousin's grandson...if they could find
him anywhere) to leave the family estate to but finally settles
everything on Mary Jane with the legal rider that, quote, (let's
see...paragraph 3, section 7, addendum 14) 'She isn't to worry her
pretty little head...' (I kid--but only a very little.)
Professor Jonkheer Fabian van der Blocq,
40 (40! Four-oh.), sweeps up to the family home. Upon his arrival he
is greeted happily by Grandfather (clearly a relationship of long
standing) and his presence underlines in every way that Mary Jane is
not, nor has ever been, a substantive part of Grandfather's life.
Editorial Note:
It's really sad. They love each other but being around Grandfather is like warmly hugging a block of granite. Sure you can do it, but why would you want to?
Oh,
and have I mentioned that everyone kindly points out at every possible
moment that Mary Jane is tiresome and/or as plain as a pikestaff?
For
his part, Fabian is really terrible--he's patronizing and (usually the
kiss of death for a Neels character) POMPOUS and has no patience for a
young girl who is losing her last relative. As for accepting the
guardianship? I was only a few pages into this arrangement before I was
mentally composing a
'Do-you-want-to-know-where-you-can-stick-this-inheritance?' speech. I
kept hoping she would do it. (She's a State Certified Nurse! The world
is her oyster!)
And
then Grandfather dies. Fabian arranges the funeral and hugs Mary Jane.
Wow. I am overwhelmed with his consideration and warmth.
Then, in
fulfillment of the promise she made to her grandfather, she travels to
Holland to nurse his old friend (Fabian's (gah, that is a flesh-crawling
name) uncle). Will Uncle What'shisname survive? No, he's also
destined for the boneyard and at this point I am
considering
questioning the wisdom of The Great Betty in making death such a
central plot point. (Take a romantic cruise on the River Styx!)
Fabian
pretty much drops her off with his irascible uncle and melodramatic
cousin and pops in a week later (when Mary Jane has them all firmly in
hand) to discover that no one is giving her time off!
Editorial Note:
(I know, there are a lot of them in this review.) This is actually an important
part of the book for me. Fabian gets a lot of credit for putting
himself out as her guardian but Mary Jane is doing some very skilled and
long-term work for his family. This puts things on a more equitable
footing --it mitigates some of the age difference and tells us why he
falls for her. And fall he does...
Uncle dies.
Fabian
tells us at the end that this is when he realizes he loves Mary Jane and
though they haven't spent much time together in Holland he did get to
see her dog and pony show of sterling qualities.
As he deposits her back in England they discuss substantively the administrative duties of guardianship:
Her: I think I shall buy a horse.
Him: Over my dead body.
With
that sort of impasse (and Mary Jane still unaware that she is anything
less than a festering boil on Fabian's backside) is it any wonder that
when long lost Cousin Mervyn (he of the too-close eyes who might have
inherited the estate if hide or hair of him had been found) arrives from
Canada he finds a girl ripe for the love con?
The gentle rain of his
endless compliments is balm to her wounded spirit. And soon enough she
entertains thoughts of marriage and foolishly writes him a blank check
(maybe to stave off monetary deflation?) so that he can purchase a
murder weapon. Okay, Prince (the wild-eyed and limping horse) isn't a
murder weapon yet but tally him with the Special License Mervyn has in
his pocket and the insurance policy he recommends she take out and it
creates a fetid stew.
Fabian arrives just in time. He essentially
throws Mervyn out on his ear and breaks Mary Jane's heart like a bull in
a china shop.
Editorial Note:
So
if you blinked and missed his dawning realization, all this comes over
very differently. There's that scene in the Olivia de Havilland movie
(The Heiress) when the plain Jane is being told by her father that
smoking hot Montgomery Clift was playing
her for a fool and was only after her filthy lucre. Daddy isn't gently
imparting the news--he's gloating. And, if you don't feel sympathetic
to Fabian for having to break up the wedding of the girl he loves than
it sort of comes off that way. He doesn't quite say 'What other reason,
besides your fortune, would a man have for wanting you?' but she might
feel it is implied. I mean, he calls her an easy mark! That's not
going to translate well any way you slice it.
She
yells her head off at him which he doesn't deserve as he's just been to
Winnipeg and back (Winnipeg! Betty Keira expects a all from the
Winnipeg Chamber of Commerce in 3...2...1...) but he's the only one to
vent her considerably bruised feelings on.
They part--he to Holland
and she to part-time nursing back in London (which is as near to ripping
up the will that she ever gets)--but he returns, asking her to nurse
his cousin.
I like this interlude in Holland. She realizes that she
loves him and then in a tiny little interchange we get a peek of their
future life together. They're out skating on the ice and she nearly
cannons into him.
'Whoops!' said Mary Jane, breathless. 'I thought I was going to knock you over--you should have moved.'
He
was still holding her. 'No need. I weigh fifteen stone or
thereabouts, and I doubt if you're much more than eight.' He laughed
down at her. 'You show a fine turn of speed, though I don't think much
of your style.'
'Oh, style--I enjoy myself.'
Won't they make a darling pair? I wish we'd seen more of that.
She
goes back to England soon after and misses him terribly. When it gets
too much she takes long walks and returning to the house, cold and
tired, she allows herself an
'Oh, Fabian.' He answers.
The End
Rating:
This one is going to take a bit more explaining than an ordinary Neels.
The first half is Fabian's Nasty Sojourn and the second half is The
Many Mistakes of Mary Jane. But there are parts to like in both (Mary
Jane being human and diligent in part 1 and Fabian being trustworthy and
yearning in part 2). So, here's my Wish List for
Winter of Change:
- I wish she'd called it Summer of Change and added more yellow bikinis. The somber and chilly mood of death and thick sweaters makes this seem extra depressing.
- I
wish that her country home had a little more life in it--local friends
popping in and out for drinks, really chummy staff (Mrs. Body, though
kind enough, strikes me as someone who likes her domain in the kitchens
and will be happy when a man takes up the reins of management), and a
pet that is not the elderly left-over animal of her dead grandfather.
- Even
though he tells her at the end the moment he fell in love with her, I
wish that La Neels had made Fabian's Dawning Realization more clear in
the moment it happens. I noticed it on the second read (which radically
changed how I viewed the second act) and I had a lot more sympathy for
him thereafter.
- Fabian. Here are 10 streaming consciousness
names that I guarantee will all be better than Fabian: Frank, Tom Mark,
George, Gus, Scott, Tiberius (My daughter is watching Star Trek), Harold, Nathan, and Carl...Okay, maybe it's better than Carl.
There
are enough witty observations and charming turns of phrase to make this
a darling book but Fabian's gratuitously cruel and chilling remarks to
Mary Jane when her grandfather is
dying sour the soup--no, no, they drop radioactive isotopes into the soup. We don't have any reason to root for him for many,
many long pages.
I
had remembered that Mary Jane was more of a simp than she really was.
Sure, she doesn't like Fabian right off but he really earns her enmity
and she's a bit off balance (what with her only living relative popping
off in that fashion). She is enormously helpful and sensible when she
nurses Fabian's uncle and babysits his cousin. And her only mistake is
following Mervyn's trail of breadcrumbs into his Enchanted Cottage of
Bull Pucky. That she needs time to be rude and disillusioned
(particularly as Fabian made zero attempt to break things to her gently)
and to lick her wounds doesn't fuss me.
This earns a
Beans on Toast
because Fabian is truly awful and that's a hole that the Great Betty
doesn't quite manage to dig him out of. Still, the writing is quite
good and Mary Jane is a flawed but generally sensible character. But
it's a sad book and that more than anything is why I don't recommend it
very highly.
Food: Bacon,
eggs and scones, beef, baked apples and cream (which sounds yummy but I
have serious doubts). Fillet of beef in shirtsleeves,
Robert's Chocolate Fancy, Kentish roast duckling, erwtensoup, quenelles of sole, salmon with asparagus tips and chocolate gateau....mmmmmm.
Fashion:
Grey dress, brown tweeds, felt hat, a 'nice' evening dress of blue and
green organza with a pie-frill collar. A velvet beret that he fails to
notice. A dark green pinafore dress with a crepe blouse (
I think I grew up after the era in which grown women could wear pinafores without looking like mutton dressed as lamb),
a gorgeous sounding burgundy red coat, dress and cap that sounds like
something Jackie O might have worn and (because it is the bleak, cold
winter) a sheepskin jacket and knitted mitts.