Betty by the Numbers: The Founding Bettys’ Ratings

Shall we begin with several rousing cheers for Betty Debbie and Betty Keira, the Founding Bettys, who so assiduously worked and worried and read and dreamed and finally brought us the marvelous wonderment that is everyneelsthing.blogspot.com, a/k/a The Uncrushable Jersey Dress.  What a joy and a treasure they have unloosed upon the world, however misguided Betty D. may be about The Fortunes of Francesca (1997) or ditto Betty K. in the matter of Heaven is Gentle (1974).  So here’s to the Founding Bettys, who read 135 books with care and attention, and rated each of them with a magnificently-imagined scale-of-Betty-food (except Betty Magdalen reviewed Fate is Remarkable).  Hip, hip, hooray!  Hip, hip, HOORAY!  Hip, hip, hippety HOORAY-O-RAMA!!!



Betty Debbie's T reads, “You encourage me to fend off the encroaching years;" Betty Keira's reads, "Emily took instant exception to his pink frilled shirt."

Ithe Founding Bettys.  Now, about those ratings...

  

Almost two-thirds of the Neels oeuvre warrants, in the FBs view, a boeuf en croute or better.  One suspects a smidgeon of partisanship.  Zero, that’s right, zero, rate a tinned soup or digestive biscuits, and only 6% rate a cheese board or below.  The average score is something like a small serving of boeuf en croute with a large mince pie for afters (7.75).  The median score is boeuf en croute (8).

Time out for a quick reminder on the rating system:

The best books warrant a lashings of whipped cream rating, which equates to ten points out of ten.  A handful get lashings-plus.  Then, in descending order, we have:

9	queen of puddings	delightfully named, but really just super-custardy bread pudding with jam underneath and meringue on top
8	boeuf en croute	most excellent if you like beef...
7	mince pies	if genuine mince, with suet and organ meats and other disgusting yuk, I’d rather have tinned soup; if just nice fruits and booze and minimal citron, I may take seconds
6	treacle tart	bleargh
5	madeira cake	tasty, but too often dry
4	the cheese board	gosh, I love a good cheese board, but I suppose if you’re comparing it to a confection of meringue, almonds, cream and chocolate, it may lack something
3	beans on toast	DELICIOUS served hot with cheese melted on top, but quite unpalatable if allowed to get soggy
2	digestive biscuits	actually quite tasty, but unfortunately named
1	tinned soup	typically very salty, and no real flavor of whatever it’s supposed to be – especially sad with things like asparagus

So, here we go:  four books, or 3%, warrant lashings-plus:  Blow Hot, Blow Cold/Surgeon from Holland/Visiting Consultant (1969) – lashings of whipped cream with cherries on top; Winter Wedding (1979) – mountains of lashings of whipped cream; Caroline’s Waterloo (1980) – lashings of whipped cream with a cherry on top; and A Christmas Romance (1999) – lashings and lashings of whipped cream.  Note the broad range of publication dates; note too that we have 75% nurses, 75% Dutchmen, 25% MOCs, average heroine age of 24 and average hero age of 38, all of which are reasonably representative of the broader canon.  There’s 50% barons represented here, which is a bit high, but probably not to an expert on statistics.

The unadorned, regular-sized lashings go to 13 books, from 1970’s Fate is Remarkable to 2001’s An Ordinary Girl.  That’s 10% of the total.  After the lashings, the curve starts to go a bit top-heavy, as 24% of the books, 32 in total, get the coveted Queen of Puddings rating.  Two, in fact, get a bit higher, as Cassandra by Chance (1973) warrants Queen of Puds with a dollop of whipped cream, and Roses Have Thorns (1990) gets the pudding with a full serving of cream.  

Betty Kylene dishing up a heaping helping of Hannah, or maybe An Ideal Wife.

Down a rung we go, but still up on the top-third of the scale, and we get 36 books, or 27%, earning boeuf en croute or slightly better.  Both the beginning Betty, Sister Peters in Amsterdam (1969), and the final one, Emma’s Wedding (2001), win 8’s from our judges.  Six books win ratings like the “boeuf en croute with dollop of queen of puddings” awarded to Heaven Around the Corner (1981), although I vote “tinned dog-meat soup with a scummy crust” for that one.  Cheerfully and respectfully, I vote “tinned dog-meat soup with a scummy crust.”  And non-fat sour cream with chokecherries for afters.  But I’m on board with most of the others.

So we have covered 63% of our novels, or 85 books, as we descend unto the mince pies.  There are 16 books, or 12% of the total, in or near this category.  There’s some confusion with the volumes No Need to Say Goodbye (1989) and The Awakened Heart (1993), as the former is rated treacle tart for the first half and Queen of Puddings for the second, and the latter rated just the opposite.  Turning up my hem to tot up some maths, I get an average of 7.5, or mince-pies-plus, for each.  Grasp a Nettle (1977) was a bit simpler, as it rated halfway between pies and beef.

Now we arrive at the quarter of the novels that rate the lowest, with 34 books remaining.  Eighteen of those, or 13% of the oeuvre, are in the treacle-tart segment.  These range all the way from 1971’s Tangled Autumn (but I love Sappha!  the causeway!) to 2001’s Always and Forever.  They also include two 6.75 scores, for Last April Fair (1980), “almost mince pies,” and The Right Kind of Girl (1995), “mince pie that’s been dropped on the ground.”    Did I mention Ithe Founding Bettys?

There are just seven madeira cakes (5%) and five cheese boards (4%).  The cheese-board scores include the unfortunate The Edge of Winter, which was headed for a boeuf en croute, but sadly detoured into a tinned-soup ending, resulting in a score of... hand me that apron and a pencil, please... 4.5.  The cheese boards are all from the mid-1970s (1973-1976).

A mere three books warrant beans on toast:  Winter of Change/Surgeon in Charge (1973), A Small Slice of Summer (1975) (WHAAAAT?!? so wrong!), and Not Once but Twice (1981).  They are followed by the sad and lonely The Gemel Ring (1974) in last place at a 2.5, or midway between beans on toast and digestive biscuits.  You can sense Betty Debbie’s more-in-sorrow as she wields her pen on this one:  “I honestly don't know what rating to give this book. I could never work up any liking or sympathy for Everard.  He was rude, insulting, hyper-critical, irritable and cranky...when he wasn't being mocking and supercilious.  The best things about him are things (cars, Gemel Rings, good looks)...but none of those really add up to any kind of real reason to fall in love with him.  His one redeeming feature is that he operates a rest home (which is all well and good, but Charity didn't know that when she fell in love).  The character of Charity was lovely - as long as we ignore the 600-pound gorilla in the room.  Why would a smart, talented, good looking Olivia fall for such a putz? There was no saucy flippancy to her remarks...she comes off sounding a wee bit desperate.  I did love Mr. and Mrs. Boekercheck (very awesome) and Corrie Blom was a brief, but fun, interlude.  Granny was also fun, she's got one of the best lines in Neeldom (speaking of a girl that Everard had dated)...’she's only half alive and the live half isn't at all to my liking.’
“I think I will have to resort to doing maths again.  Mr. and Mrs. Boekerchek get a queen of puddings, Corrie - boeuf en croute, Granny - lashings of whipped cream, Charity - treacle tart (I would have rated her higher if I thought she would be happy with Everard) and Everard - a great big ‘tinned soup.’  Overall it lands somewhere between digestive biscuits and beans on toast (for me...).”

Let’s have it, Bettys – where do you uncover the coagulated aroma of tinned soup in the oeuvre?  How many of the Novels Neels earn mountains of lashings with cherries and berries and chocolate shavings from you?

The Edge of Winter--1976

I was fifty pages into this book before I realized which one it was. My heart, sailing gaily along, wafted on the updrafts of delightful banter and sizzling chemistry, thudded to the pit of my stomach. Ugh. This is the one with the worst ending in Neelsdom.

Araminta Shaw, 25, is, like any good Lorelei, hailing sailors to a watery doom. Having found a lost child at the ocean's edge, she splints a broken leg, dismisses the possibility of cliff-climbing with all that dead weight on her back and looks through the darkening night for help.
Professor Crispin Van Sibbelt, nudging 40, points his little rubber dinghy inland and fetches up before her. 'You silly little fool. Don't you know those cliffs are dangerous?'
Scathing remarks follow acid-laced observations as they maneuver the little girl aboard his yacht and our heroine (who did, after all, follow first aid protocols with ingenuity) is grinding her teeth. Araminta wonders, who put his knickers in such a bunch?
London:
Araminta returns to her nursing job (she was on a very dreary-sounding vacation with auntie and father--the kind of death-to-a-social-life lolling at the inn vacation) and opens the door of her modest semi-basement flat to the vast and handsome yacht-owner. Having a yacht is not its own calling-card for respectability, evidently, and she only draws the chain back when she is reassured that he was sent by her auntie. 'I wanted to see you again.'
Thereafter, he pops in and out of her life, bringing delicious food, a persistent manner (a must since she constantly tells him she's not sure she likes him very much (in much the same way as a 12-year-old girl, when asked if she liked a certain classmate, would blush furiously, swear she didn't like him and wish him death for good measure)) and offers of help around the house.
This is, by far, the best part of the book with little moments that make you laugh aloud. He is sort of pursuing her and she is sort of resisting. ...she told herself that she couldn't bear him at any price--she would make that quite clear the next time they met.
Holland:
Araminta is asked to nurse her Cousin Thomas' failing wife Thelma...in Holland. So, she hies off to Amsterdam and lands herself in a domestic imbroglio. Thomas is a pinchpenny who can barely rouse enough feeling for his dying wife beyond a niggling suspicion that all this is costing him money. Thelma is a dear and set to die anytime from incurable leukemia. She is relieved that Araminta is there so that she can die in peace instead of being asked about the laundry status. And if it takes crossing swords with Thomas every stinking day, Araminta is going to see that things are different for Thelma. Champangne, new dresses, enticing eats...the lot. Thomas turns puce at the expense. (Though, to be fair, he sounds like someone with a liver complaint.)
Naturally, Crispin is the specialist who sees Thelma.
Thelma dies.
Crispin, not one to waste any opportunity, whisks Araminta away from her pre-funeral housekeeping as often as possible and, at one point, brings her back to his home to spend the night.
Never fear! He has a chaperon! Tante Maybella! (Are all these exclamation points convincing you that she is a good idea? Me neither.) Ah, the good Tante. She's all my least favorite feminine affectations wadded into a cozy knit cardigan. Sweet, high-voiced, doll-like, back-biting, vicious...Crispin seems oblivious that Tante Maybella (who has TWO homes of her own that she doesn't want to live in--TWO!) is leaking toxic waste all over Araminta like a rusty 70s era industrial drum.
But, despite the prospect of infelicitous in-law relations, Araminta tosses her bonnet over the windmill for Crispin. He would probably be a difficult husband, but she saw no reason why she couldn't manage him. Oh, I quite like her.
But back to Tante Maybella. Crispin notices some chilliness but offers the pointless (if interesting) bromide: She can't help but love you in time, but she has to get used to you--the idea of you. Kiss!
Before heading back to England, Crispin makes some not-so-very-vague suggestions about a possible joint merger of their assets. 'Don't say anything. When you're back in England, whatever you feel now, you will probably forget me.'
Editorial Note: Okay, I take considerable issue with this. He does this cheesy boy band ballad thing (I'm imagining Boyz II Men: 'Baby, baby, hush now. You and me, girl, don't need to talk...') a few times and implies that she's a 'green girl'. Um, Professor, she's a babe. Moreover, she has probably been chatted up by every houseman, registrar, junior banker, bachelor clergyman and married anesthesiologist within fifty miles. If she's prepared to say that she loves you, shut-up, gracefully accept and then get down on your knees and thank the good Lord for your blessings.
England:
Crispin sends her roses with a message that needs the decoder ring treatment. (What does it all mean?)
She is asked to attend a friend's engagement party. While dolled up and waiting in the hospital lobby with her ride (her young male ride), Crispin stalks in. Words are flung, naked jealousy is displayed, love's young dream is crushed.
So she quits.
Oh my heck this is so satisfying. Crispin is totally in the wrong here and she's just ripped up her mortgage papers and tossed the lighted match into the dining room. And then he's back (to her father's house this time) for a full-fledged, honest to goodness grovel. (Enjoy the delicacy. La Neels is famously parsimonious with them.)
He asks her to come back to Holland to stay with him and get to know him and, '...hush, baby, I don't want to know what your feelings are...' Okay I made that last bit up...a teeny bit.
Holland:
She stays with Crispin and Tante Maybella and Tante Maybella's 'naked fear' (so awkward when people don't wear a towel to the loo...). And then one day, Tante Maybella (whose very name is beginning to drive me around the bend) tells Araminta that she's so 'suitable'. Picture a five-year-old at a birthday party with a handful of balloons. Now picture someone popping them all. That's pretty much Tante Maybella. A Balloon Popper.
Not done with her evil machinations, Tante goes on to tell Araminta that she's so much more suitable than Nelissa (whose name sounds both flat-chested and made up) whom Crispin really loves and would marry but for his awkward engagement (oh, yeah, they got engaged in there) with Araminta.
Of course she bolts.
Hinterlands:
She takes barely any money, no passport and has no destination. She tries hitchhiking but is too well dressed. Crispin finds her curled up in the stairwell of a tiny roadside stone castle (Visit Amazing Europe!) and pours his anxiety/anger/confusion on her head. To which she replies with inspired aplomb:
"Don't you swear your beastly Dutch oaths at me!"
And there she is--from affianced wife of well-off physician to hot ghetto mess all in one easy day. He drags her home (after much 'No, baby, we'll talk after dinner/breakfast/bath/lunch'-ness) and gets Tante Maybella in the same room. And then, to steal a quote from the Iron Lady, it all goes wobbly. Here's why I hate it:

• He never did say he loved her and should have.
• Tante Maybella never capitulates until she gets lifelong residence under their roof (remember she has two others of her own), the satisfaction of teaching Araminta 'household management' and about all the treasures of the old house. (At this rate, Araminta will be lucky to consider herself a long-term guest in her own home.)
• Araminta has to cast aside the venom that drove her to run away from Crispin and offer instant forgiveness and reassurance.

Anyway, by this time, I'm disgruntled and ready to bean him over the head. But he's got a special license and I guess they can go off and live happily ever after with the cankerous old woman.
The End


Rating: I really, really enjoyed this book before Araminta's dawning realization. She loathes Crispin but, as she glowers at his retreating back, she is probably checking out his bum. Their interplay is excellent and it crackles with energy (death surrounding her, notwithstanding!). And then she realizes that she loves him and a little wind is taken out of the sails (not much wind but all that 'Baby, baby, please don't say anything' stuff is a little dampening). And then there's the sticky bit at the end. Ugh. The end. It wasn't quite as uniformly bad as I remembered: The Great Betty makes running away interesting and funny and tragic all at once so I can't quibble with the writing.
But the last four pages...(shudder)...In a just world, that old lady would have been kicked out on her ear and probably incarcerated in a Home for the Criminally Insane. Seriously. Would you let that woman near your children?
So, though I hate giving mixed reviews, the beginning and middle (and most of the end) earn a boeuf en croute for me, while the last two pages are the thin gruel of tinned soup--probably that succotash tin in the back of your pantry that's been sitting there for ages. The lima beans have probably turned gray and there are little floaty bits of fat...
But if you can mentally write a satisfactory conversation that can make living with a psychopath okay ('Darling, she's got an incurable brain tumor and will be gone by morning anyway...') then this book is well worth your time.

Food: Shrimp bisque, lemon chicken, crisps, artichoke salad, kaas broodje, french onion soup, poached turbot with lobster sauce, Charlotte Russe (the sound of which makes me think of Russian ballerina tartlets for whatever reason), roast beef, baked potatoes, Yorkshire pudding and sprouts. When she runs away her best meal is chips from a paper bag and because the last of her change is bumped from her hand (into the watery deep) she is denied a roll. Brandy warms her up (a myth?) and she eats echte soup and gehakt balletjes on the way to his home again. The servants (possibly saying 'I'm sorry the old bat almost drove you to your death') make vacherin, her favorite dessert.

Fashion: Russet brown suit, Thelma buys a last dress (blue) before she pops off, Araminta buys a russet velvet pinafore dress with a chiffon blouse, a very promising high-necked dark honey crepe with tiny pleats that sounds a beast to dry clean (I have four years experience working in a dry clean/laundry and know whereof I speak), a sage green silk jersey with yet another chiffon bow beneath her chin, and a blue velvet evening gown which sounds a dream to wear.

When Two Paths Meet - 1988

I thought I remembered this book quite well. I did have most of the plot down pat - but I didn't remember loving this one. Why didn't I love it? The question bothered me until about 2/3 of the way through...then I knew. It's a 600 pound gorilla.

In the pre-dawn chill a knock sounds at the door...Katherine Marsh hops out of bed and tiptoes downstairs so as not to wake the household. A good-looking stranger urgently requests entry, as he has just found a newborn baby beside the road. Man with baby? Check. Dawning Realization? Check. Dr. Fitzroy asks that Katherine accompany him to the hospital so that she can hold the baby...Katherine is happy to help out (although sister-in-law Joyce is NOT), even happier that instead of being forgotten at the hospital as she expected, Dr. Fitzroy has arranged for her to have breakfast in the canteen. When he takes her home she shakes his hand goodbye and 'looked up into his face learning it by heart...memory was all she would have.'

Katherine lives with older brother Henry and his wife Joyce. They are a delightful couple. Psych! Not really. Henry is a schoolmaster...which hardly bodes well for the youngsters in his care. I find myself wondering what kind of school he teaches at...and can only imagine some horrible Dickensian boarding school and Henry a close runner-up to Wackford Squeers. Alas, the only thing we really know about Henry is that he is pompous, selfish, self-absorbed, doesn't care for his own children...which is where the redoubtable Mr. Squeers has him beat. Mr. Squeers at least likes his kids. Joyce is very busy with her own social life to have any time for her kids either. If ever there was a couple who shouldn't have had kids, it's these two.
Dr. Fitzroy shows up with a job offer! Poor Joyce and Henry aren't given any choice in the matter...no two weeks notice to find a new slave. Katherine is going to be trading her job of taking care of two ill-behaved children for a job taking care of a peppery old man and his wife. The new jobs pays 40 pounds a week, which is more money than Katherine has had in her pocket in maybe forever. One of the perks of the job is that Dr. Fitzroy drops by a couple of times a week to check up on Mr. Graingers dickey heart. A job that actually pays AND the chance to see her true love twice a week? You betcha. Henry turns puce when he finds out that she's taking the job...'You ungrateful sister! I've given you a home and food and clothes...' 'And look what you've gotten in return - unpaid housework, a nanny and you haven't even given me an allowance.' Good for her. I really like Katherine when she's in this mode...not so much when she wastes sympathy on Henry and Joyce (but no sympathy on the children...who deserve it more).
The Graingers are nice to work for - there's just one fly in the ointment. Granddaughter Dodie. The 600 pound gorilla. Dodie spends the book being rude, caustic, thoughtless, selfish, etc. She is, in a way, refreshingly forthright - she's not two-faced at all. The reason I don't care for her plot line is the inexplicableness of La Neels having Dr. Fitzroy spend soooo much time with The Dread Dodie. He also suggests to Katherine that The Dread Dodie could give her fashion advice. Umm. No thanks. Dr. Fitzroy is startled to see a look of such rage that he blinks. No way girlfriend is going to take fashion advice from the enemy...because that's just what The Dread Dodie is - the enemy. Both girls know it instinctively.
Dodie conspires with a relative to shift the Graingers to Cheltenham for a spell. Even though Mr. and Mrs. Grainger like Katherine a lot, they sashay off to Dodieland with nary a backward glance. This means that Katherine is out of a job. Dr. Fitzroy steps into the breach and gets her another job...nurses aide at the hospital. Yay! Bedbathing old men and emptying bedpans. She does make more money...enough to rent a room from Mrs. Potts. Her independence is growing by leaps and bounds...and now that she's working at the hospital, there's a chance every day to see Dr. Fitzroy. The best thing about the job change (besides seeing Dr. Fitzroy more often), is that Katherine finally gets to make friends with girls her own age - Miranda 'call me Andy', another nurses aide, and a girl at Mrs. Potts.

Dr. Fitzroy's younger cousin, Edward comes for a visit. He would be an ideal brother, says Katherine - over and over and over again. Seriously...Katherine loses no opportunity to let the good doctor know that she has no romantic feeling for the guy. Especially after Edward asks her out and Dr. Fitzroy goes strangely avuncular. Lots of fun to be had with Edward and Jason (yes, Jason). Hot cocoa around the fire after the midnight Christmas service, invitation to a New Year's Eve party at Jason's, teaching Katherine how to play poker and a day out walking through the snow at Stourhead, where once again Katherine tells Jason how sisterly she feels toward Edward. Maybe that's what tips the scales for Jason, but at any rate, he takes advantage of Edward's brief absence to propose. Yup. Right out of the blue. Since everyone has told Katherine that he's supposed to be marrying Dodie, she turns him down. And then kicks herself for it. The Dread Dodie would be an awful wife for Jason. Too bad Katherine blew her one and only chance. Did I say one and only chance? Jason is delightfully persistent - he brings up the subject of proposing with great regularity. If only he would stop going out with Dodie - which he does with great regularity. Oh, and if he would preface his proposal with an 'I love you', that would also help out a great deal.
Henry tracks down Katherine and persuades the Matron that Katherine is needed back at Casa Marsh to care for his ailing wife. Let's all join with Henry in shedding a few crocodile tears. Of course Joyce isn't sick, and Katherine is sure of it - especially when Henry smirks at her behind Matron's back...so she leaves a message with Andy for 'anyone who asks' about her whereabouts. Who's going to ask? Jason sees her entering a car and tracks down Andy to see what's what. What's up is that Joyce has gone out for drinks at the pub and left Katherine with her offspring. Jason shows up after dinner and Katherine falls weeping on his lapels.
Her: Jason, oh Jason! Take me away!
Him: Sorry I couldn't come sooner, I had outpatient's.
He makes amends by taking her back to his place for a much needed dinner. Some cards are laid on the table...hers. He knows she loves him, and gets her to admit it...before proposing again. Her walls are crumbling, she's just about to tell him 'yes' the next day when she hears that The Dread Dodie is engaged to someone else!! Instead of being thrilled, she's now sure that it's a rebound proposal. Katherine refuses one last time...muddied waters are cleaned up...I've loved you since I first saw you in that old dressing gown. I've loved you since you told them to give me a good breakfast. Kiss kiss. The End.

Rating: There's loads to love about this book...unfortunately, there's a 600 pound gorilla named Dodie in the room. Dodie is remarkably straightforward in her hatred of Katherine - and I don't have a problem with that, it's the fact that Jason keeps going out with her and sort of throwing her in Katherine's face. Drives me crazy. Queen of Puddings...unfortunately garnished with a tin of Dodie soup.
Fashion: a wardrobe bought one item at a time each payday. Week 1 - undies. Week 2 - suitable grey dress. Week 3 - a raincoat bought at Woolworth's. Week 4 - A warm and pretty dressing gown and cozy slippers. Week 5 - Winter coat in an unassuming peat brown cloth. New Year's Eve party dress - grey taffeta with a square neck and elbow length sleeve that make her look like a nun at the circus.

Food: Hospital canteen Breakfast O' Love of cornflakes, eggs and bacon, toast, butter and marmalade. Minute steaks, trifle, cheese souffle, egg custard, prawn cocktails, steak and kidney pudding, apple tart AND apple pie, boiled beef and dumplings, boiled ham and parsley sauce (?).

Always and Forever - 2001

Half-orphan child of widowed mother.
Widowed mother is rather weak.
Mother marries again.
Step-father is harsh and cruel.
Half-orphan runs away to Great-Aunt, traveling quite a distance in some duress.

No, this isn't a review of David Copperfield, but the above list does bear a striking similarity to the opening scenes of it.

Amabel Parsons (Amabel...so close to amiable, and yet....yuck). Age 26ish, Araminta from top to bottom. Her widow mother has left her in charge of their B & B while she is in CANADA visiting Amabel's unnamed sister who has recently had an unnamed baby. Sooo. That leaves Amabel in a lonely, somewhat isolated farmhouse, welcoming strangers in to sleep in the bedrooms. During a brief break in the middle of a raging thunder and lightning storm, "The lull was shattered by a peal on the doorbell.". (cue scary slasher movie music). Enter....

Dr. Oliver Fforde (yes, two "f"'s and an "e" -which he would be required to drop if the Fforde Ffamily ever immigrates to America) and his mother. Thus begins our story. Amabel and Oliver (she doesn't have to call him Dr. Fforde) are Ffriends at once, they enjoy each other's company. He worries a bit about her being alone, he visits periodically. Then comes the day....Amabel gets a letter from CANADA....this does not bode well for our heroine. Her absentee mother gives her the Ffabulous news that she is going to stay a little longer in Canada and Get Married!!! and then Mommy dearest concludes with this lovely parting shot "You're such a sensible girl, and I'm sure you're enjoying your independence. Probably when we get back you will want to start a career on your own." This is code for: Since I now have a man in my life, I won't need you. Amabel sits down and assesses her accomplishments. "She could cook - not quite cordon bleu...she could housekeep, change plugs, cope with basic plumbing....tend a garden...Her pen faltered. There was nothing else." It goes on to say that she had her A levels. As far as I can tell, having her A levels would mean that she could go to University. Right? Why do Neels heroines never take advantage of that? I know, you're going to say..."But Betty Debbie, I read a Neels wherein the heroine has gone to university." To that, I say, "Yes, she may have started, but she dropped out...probably so her younger brother or sister could go instead, or to take care of her sick/aging a)mother, b) grandmother, c) aunt, d) second cousin once removed, e) all of the above...." Do they not have scholarships and college grants in the UK? This lack of education keeps coming back to haunt Amabel...

Mummy and new Step-Daddy Keith(why couldn't Betty have named him Edward as in Murdstone??? That would have been so much fun) come home. Step-Daddy immediately plows up the beautiful but old apple orchard so that he can build a big ugly greenhouse Ffor his profitable market garden. Amabel can stay and be unpaid labor, thus saving Step-Daddy a boatload of expense. That might have been okay...but Step-Daddy has an even darker side. In one sentence we Ffind him hitting the old dog Cyril and kicking the old cat Oscar. He then goes on to say that dear old Cyril and Oscar won't be alive much longer, if he has anything to say about it. That tears it. The very next day Amabel throws her bonnet over the windmill with a vengeance. She hauls herself, her luggage AND Cyril and Oscar cross-country to York. Oops, she Fforgot to call Aunt Betsey, I mean Thisbe. (I so identified the beginning of this book with David Copperfield that I thought Aunt Thisbe's name was Aunt Betsey - until I reread the book). Aunt Thisbe bears a striking resemblance, personality-wise to Betsey Trotwood. Aunt T is happy to welcome Amabel, and just as happy, later on, to welcome visiting Dr. Oliver Fforde. Amabel and Oliver have a lovely day together - taking their dogs for walks on the beach at Flamborough (in November or December...on the North Sea). Amabel confides to Oliver that she needs to get a job just as soon as she can, because she found out that Great Aunt Thisbe was supposed to go on holiday in Italy, and Amabel just has to find a job, where she can live in AND take Cyril and Oscar, her Ffurry millstones.

Oliver hears of a possible job through the evil villainess, Miriam Potter-Stokes, an elegant young widow who wants to get her fingers into the Fforde pie (I am sad to report that "Miriam" is also the name of my only granddaughter). Miriam has an old school chum, Delores who just so happens to own a little shoppe in The Shambles and needs a shop assistant. Oliver gives Amabel(that name just doesn't get any better) the heads up about the job, and Amabel is all set. A job (at sweatshop wages), a room behind the shop to live in with Cyril and Oscar, and a sink and a toilet. What?? No shower or bath? That's okay, once a week she goes back to Aunt Thisbe's and takes a bath. Whether she needs it or not. The scenes in York are actually my favorite part of Always and Fforever. Amabel and Oliver walk around town seeing the sights...(I love York - I spent a day there once), then head out to spend the next morning at the sea again. In December. Yeah. Dolores figures out that Amabel's Oliver is the same as Miriam's Oliver, and so gives Miriam a call. Miriam fakes tears and begs Dolores to give Amabel the sack. Which she does. This makes Amabel and her Ffurry millstones homeless. Aunt T is still in Italy, her household helpers are away for 10 days...so Amabel uses up her money for lodging and finally takes sanctuary (great shades of Victor Hugo!) in a little church. Oliver just so happens to show up and takes her to his Great-Aunt Lady Haleford, who is recovering from a mild stroke and is a bit peevish and irascible. Aramintas are great at this sort of thing - companion to the elderlies (British word alert!). She realizes finally that she is in love with Oliver (Oh NO, I Must Not Let It Show). Miriam Potter-Stokes finds out that Oliver is still seeing her, so she sneaks up to Lady Haleford's and tells Amabel that Oliver is a great one for helping lame dogs over styles, but nevertheless, Oliver is Marrying Miriam. This, by the way, is completely and utterly Ffalse. Oliver has never particularly liked Miriam - they went on a few dates and saw each other at parties held by mutual acquaintances. Amabel of course does not know this and is somewhat relieved to be called home to nurse her mother through a bout of pneumonia. Turns out, her mother is practically well - it's just cheaper to have Amabel there than to pay a housekeeper. Oliver finds out what Miriam has done and sort of tells her off "I need a wife who loves me and whom I love", then, after a few days he goes to Ffetch her from her mother. But not without first collecting Great Aunt T (now returned from her Italian sojourn) and installing her at his home to act as chaperon...until the wedding because "Oliver is a stickler for conventions"(which I always think sounds like he hands out campaign buttons at political rallies).

Food: omelettes, egg custard, pork pies, mushrooms in garlic sauce, roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, lemon mousse, hot buttered parkin, chicken a la king, lemon tart swimming in cream, prawns, ceasar salad, grilled sole.

Fashion: a jersey dress in a pleasing shade of cranberry red! When Amabel splashes out on a new dress for Christmas she buys....a silvery GREY dress.

Rating: Alas poor Yorick, I mean York, I wish I could rate you well. The best I can rate the names in Always and Forever - beans on toast. Evil Canadian dog-kicking stepfather named Keith - beans on toast. Mother...tinned soup. Great Aunt Thisbe - queen of puddings (she is kind of awesome), plot similarities to David Copperfield - boeuf en croute (I wish Betty had kept going in that vein), the arc of Amabel and Olivers friendship/love - boeuf en croute (like at first sight that turns to love). I suppose if you add it all together, divide by the common denominater, take the square root of Miriam Potter-Stokes, the answer would be somewhere in the neighborhood of treacle tart (with a little lashings of whipped cream for York).