Elisabeth Grace Foley

Historical Fiction Author

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My Year in Books: 2023

January 13, 2024 by Elisabeth Grace Foley Leave a Comment

Time for my yearly roundup of books read in the past year! As always, this post hits most of the highlights (and a few lowlights); if you’re interested in the full list of everything I read this year you can browse it on Goodreads. Books that made my top-ten list for the year are marked with an asterisk.*

Officially, I read 69 books in 2023, including logged re-reads, which feels like an almost shockingly low number. However, I do know that I did a bunch of re-reading which I never bothered to log, so the actual number is probably higher. (For example, I know that sometime in the autumn I blazed through three or four books by Grace S. Richmond that I’d read before, but never noted it in my book diary or on Goodreads.)

Most of the re-reads that I did keep track of were classic novels: I thoroughly enjoyed revisiting Charles Dickens’ Bleak House (which I think may be his masterpiece) and Martin Chuzzlewit (which remains my personal favorite, in spite of a whole skeleton of bones to pick with the American segment) and Jane Austen’s Emma and Northanger Abbey. I did not really read any new-to-me classics this year—aside from Anthony Trollope’s The American Senator*, which made my top-ten list—but I think that was because I covered that department so well with classic re-reads!

There was a handful of Westerns. Open Range by Lauran Paine* was a slightly surprise standout, sneaking onto my top-ten list. Unfortunately Paine was also responsible for my Worst Book of the Year, which has to be a record of some sort—I find it hard to believe the same author who penned Open Range could have been responsible for the so-called prose in Halfmoon Ranch. Let us hope the stories that made up the latter were very early works. I also finally caught up with Eugene Rhodes’ Bransford of Rainbow Range, which was enjoyable, but not by any means my favorite Rhodes book in spite of its being one of his best-known. The Daughter of a Magnate by Frank H. Spearman was pretty good, Desert Brew by B.M. Bower just okay. Mystery Ranch by Arthur Chapman was a rare example of a genuine whodunit in a Western setting: interesting, though not a particularly scintillating mystery in the end!

Plenty of mysteries, of course. The highlight of the year was The Singing Sands by Josephine Tey*—even better than I expected, though bittersweet to finish her all-too-short oeuvre. I also finally finished the Felse Investigations series by Ellis Peters (actually, not technically, since I still haven’t read the first book). Rainbow’s End was admittedly a slightly anti-climactic finish; the second-last book, City of Gold and Shadows, was better. And I’m almost through the Henry Gamadge series by Elizabeth Daly…I have just one book left and I’m rather putting it off because I hate to see the series end! Death and Letters was probably my favorite of the Daly titles read in 2023. I also tried out the first two books in Rex Stout’s Nero Wolfe series, to see if I liked it any better than I did on my one attempt years ago, and I have to say that neither Wolfe himself or Stout’s style/tone in general are really for me (though I admit I was a bit partial to Archie Goodwin after two books).

A couple of non-series mystery titles I found modestly enjoyable were Arrest the Bishop? by Winifred Peck and There May Be Danger by Ianthe Jerrold. To Catch a Thief by David Dodge, which is in many ways quite different from the famous Hitchcock movie, was…interesting, though unsatisfying in some ways. And I read a couple more of the British Library Crime Classics themed anthologies of short stories edited by Martin Edwards—Murder at the Manor: Country House Mysteries was just okay (although the final story, “Weekend at Wapentake” by Michael Gilbert, packed a punch I did not see coming), but Silent Nights: Christmas Mysteries was much better, great fun in fact. On the nearer side of the Atlantic, Alibi For Isabel and Other Stories by Mary Roberts Rinehart was good as well, though only a couple of the stories in the collection could honestly be called mysteries (the connecting theme for most of them is the WWII home front).

I already mentioned Halfmoon Ranch as the worst book I read, but it swooped in fairly late to claim the title from either Death in Cyprus by M.M. Kaye or Air Bridge by Hammond Innes (the latter I think was even more a disappointment than it would otherwise have been because it had been on my to-read list for so long based on an intriguing blurb). I also may be in the minority on this, but I failed to be much moved by The Princess Bride.

A large part of this year’s nonfiction was made up of books linked to nature and gardening: Beatrix Potter’s Gardening Life by Marta McDowell* was a top-ten pick, and I also enjoyed Unearthing the Secret Garden from the same author. Also falling in or near this category were Seasons at Eagle Pond by Donald Hall, The God of the Garden by Andrew Peterson, and Twenty Days With Julian and Little Bunny, by Papa by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I also greatly appreciated Simple Money, Rich Life by Bob Lotich*, a book on managing finances from a Christian perspective. There were a couple of good historical nonfiction titles: the immensely entertaining Birdmen: The Wright Brothers, Glenn Curtiss, and the Battle to Control the Skies by Lawrence Goldstone*, and The Black Hand: The Epic War Between a Brilliant Detective and the Deadliest Secret Society in American History by Stephan Talty. The Brasspounder by D.G. Sanders was an entertaining memoir of life as a railroad telegrapher in the early twentieth century.

The catch-all category, of novels and short stories in various or no particular genres, was responsible for an unusual amount of top-ten picks this year! Miracles on Maple Hill by Virginia Sorenson*, A Tale of a Lonely Parish by Francis Marion Crawford*, The Provincial Lady in America by E.M. Delafield*, and An Episode of Sparrows by Rumer Godden* all made the cut. Also enjoyable were The Red House by Edith Nesbit, Poor Dear Theodora! by Florence Irwin, Cheerful—By Request by Edna Ferber, and Yours, Constance by Emily Hayse.

Previous years’ roundups: 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012

Filed Under: Reading, Reviews

Hamlet (1948)

April 11, 2022 by Elisabeth Grace Foley 2 Comments

This weekend, I decided on impulse to watch the 1948 version of Hamlet. I’d been skeptically curious about it for a while because I couldn’t see how, in spite of its sophisticated source material and creative pedigree, it could possibly have beaten The Treasure of the Sierra Madre for Best Picture; and I was just in a random mood to sit down and watch some Serious Classic Film I’d never seen before. I actually had to break it up into a couple of sittings, because I hadn’t realized it was so long (two and a half hours), and because of the sheer intensity. When it was over I felt like I’d spent a long night in a theatre (where you have intermissions to break up a lengthy play!)

My thoughts? Yes, this is an impressive piece of filmmaking. The cinematography, the lighting, the camerawork are all stunning; the massive, eerie, stylized castle sets somehow fit exactly the atmosphere I imagine for a Shakespearean tragedy. The way the camera pans and floats up and down long halls and staircases, through thick stone walls and from window to window gives the impression of one long, continuous sequence of events, which probably contributes to the feeling of intensity. This was the first time I’d ever seen Shakespeare performed, as opposed to just reading it, and it was almost magical to discover just how beautiful the words can sound when enunciated clearly and spoken in natural, though dramatic rhythms. The opening scene with the men-at-arms on the misty ramparts of the castle just pulled me straight in—in fact, those two scenes on the castle walls, with Horatio and the guards waiting for a sight of the Ghost and later with Hamlet joining them, were some of my favorites. The understated simplicity with which the men-at-arms deliver their speeches, the way their faces are framed in the screen and the quiet tension as they wait for the Ghost, and the thrilling horror when it appears, are all magnificent. I’d forgotten that it was Marcellus who delivers the “bird of dawning” speech, and as he was speaking, I thought—wow, here is this character who is practically a nobody, reciting one of the most beautiful passages in the play, and for those few moments while he’s speaking, suddenly he isn’t a nobody anymore.

The overall acting is captivating, though I had both praises and criticisms for each of the central characters. There are times when Laurence Olivier’s Hamlet is enthralling and other times where he loses you a little, times when his Hamlet seems a little too inscrutable and you can’t get a sense of what he is really thinking or doing. Jean Simmons as Ophelia was a little more noticeably uneven: sometimes she’s simply lovely and heartbreaking, other times she seems wild-eyed and overly dramatic. I think what I found missing the most was any real sense of Hamlet having been actually in love with Ophelia—it would have added so much more to their scenes together, particularly the “get thee to a nunnery” scene, if you had a sense of his real feelings for her wrestling with the necessity of his playing a part toward her and his disgust over how he suspects (or in this interpretation, knows) that she is helping her father entrap him.

Claudius (Basil Sydney) was very good in the “O, my offense is rank” scene in particular, though overall I found him almost a tad too laid-back and genial—I’d have liked to see some more overt villainy. Annoyingly, this version does lean into the Oedipal angle between Hamlet and Gertrude, which frankly I don’t think adds anything to the story and even distracts the focus of the revenge plot. What I did find interesting, though, was the hint that Gertrude’s conscience is eventually affected, possibly shifting her alliance by the end of the play. There’s one really striking shot where the king and queen are reading the letters sent to them by Hamlet during his absence, where they slowly walk up separate staircases angling away from each other as they read—it’s like a visual metaphor illustrating that Hamlet has managed to drive a wedge between them.

My personal favorites in the cast were Horatio (Normal Wooland), who manages to convey mainly through his expressions and relatively little dialogue the shining integrity, loyalty and sympathy that are the essence of the character; Polonius (Felix Aylmer), who, if a little less sly and more doddering and kindly-seeming than I found him when reading the play, is still extremely entertaining (I chuckled all the way through the scene where he informs the king and queen of Hamlet’s “madness,” and then interrogates Hamlet to try and prove it); but above all, Laertes (Terence Morgan). Maybe it’s partly because I’ve always had a soft spot for the character (I have a soft spot for the youthful hothead/kid brother character in anything), but—wow. I merely thought he was good in the early scenes, but by the more dramatic scenes at the climax he was far and away my favorite. The entire climactic duel sequence, by the way, is one of the finest scenes in the film all the way around: just a masterpiece of suspense and action.

I’m not enough of a Shakespeare buff to want to watch multiple versions of Hamlet and try to find the best. I’d be mildly interested to see different interpretations of Hamlet, Ophelia, and Claudius in particular; but the style of this film fits so much with my own idea of what dramatized Shakespeare should be like, I’d be more inclined to wish there were more adaptations by the same creative team responsible for this Hamlet.

But I do still think The Treasure of the Sierra Madre should have won the Oscar.

Filed Under: Film and TV, Reviews

My Year In Books: 2021

January 10, 2022 by Elisabeth Grace Foley Leave a Comment

I was a little more slapdash with my record-keeping this year on both Goodreads and in my physical book diary, so I knew that neither number would be exact. But after counting up both and comparing, I’d have a decently approximate number of books read in the year. And it turned out to be about 70—which astounded me! I’ve been used to being at least above 80 and often over 100. But every year is different. I know that my reading pace definitely slowed down during a very busy autumn; I only read a few chapters of a book per evening instead of devouring a whole book in a day or two. And there were some re-reads that I never counted at all. Anyway, here is my official Goodreads shelf for the year, which I know is a bit shorter than the actual total; and as usual, this annual review post is a retrospective of the highlights.

Notable re-reads that I did catalogue (i.e. revisited deliberately instead of just grabbing a favorite to while away an idle moment!) were The Mind of the Maker by Dorothy Sayers, The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins, Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, and Knowing God by J.R. Packer.

Nonfiction was probably my second-most substantial genre for the year, if you lump history, biography, and miscellany together. Three nonfiction reads made my top-ten list: The Diary of a Dude Wrangler by Struthers Burt, Dude Ranching: A Complete History by Lawrence R. Borne, and Over the Hills and Far Away: A Biography of Beatrix Potter by Matthew Dennison. Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau was piercingly relevant and contemporary-feeling, something I liked more than I expected to. The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street by Helene Hanff also pleasantly surprised me by being a worthy sequel to 84, Charing Cross Road, and a perfect summer read that was almost as good as a trip to England. I also enjoyed Valcour: The 1776 Campaign That Saved the Cause of Liberty by Jack Kelly, and two volumes of Mary Roberts Rinehart’s nonfiction travel writing, Through Glacier Park and The Out Trail. I’m still working on The Huguenots by Geoffrey Treasure, a comprehensive history of a subject that has interested me for a while.

Also nonfiction, but specifically theology: The Life of Joy by D. Martyn-Lloyd Jones, The Doctrine of the Lesser Magistrates by Matthew J. Trewhella, and Israel in Bible Prophecy by Brian Godawa. The end of the year found me in the middle of Lloyd-Jones’ The Life of Peace, the second volume in a study of Philippians.

The genre most represented this year? Mystery! Small surprise there, really. I read around two dozen mystery novels and short story collections all told. Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers kicked off the year, and went straight to my top-ten list. I started a couple of new series—I took to the Henry Gamadge books by Elizabeth Daly right away, and two of them, Unexpected Night and Arrow Pointing Nowhere (#1 and #7 in the series) also made my top ten. After several years of enjoying Ellis Peters mysteries I finally tried out her most famous series, the 12th-century Brother Cadfael historical mysteries, and liked the series opener A Morbid Taste For Bones moderately; but the second book One Corpse Too Many was brilliant and another addition to my top-ten list. Black Plumes by Margery Allingham, Hunt With the Hounds by Mignon G. Eberhart, The Great Mistake and The Album by Mary Roberts Rinehart were some of the stand-alone mysteries I enjoyed most.

I always enjoy good mystery short stories when I can find them, so when I had Kindle Unlimited for a bit I read through several collections. The Allingham Casebook by Margery Allingham was unsurprisingly the highest quality; Night Call and Other Stories by Charlotte Armstrong was a pretty good collection leaning more toward suspense than mystery; while The Cases of Lieutenant Timothy Trant by Q. Patrick had a couple of decent entries but was pretty flimsy overall. I trudged through The Experiences of Loveday Brooke, Lady Detective by Catherine Louisa Pirkis and The Female Detective by Andrew Forrester more for their historical value than anything else, but the former was at least much less dull than the latter.

Only a few Westerns this year, but one of them, The Land of Strong Men by A.M. Chisholm, was good enough to make my top-ten list. The Broken Gun by Louis L’Amour was a contemporary Western thriller of sorts with an intriguing concept but just moderate execution. And I also enjoyed These War-Torn Hands by Emily Hayse, more than I expected to enjoy a Western with fantasy elements, in fact. I’d like to write a review with more thoughts at some point.

Science fiction made up a bigger share of my year’s reading than usual: both The Icarus Aftermath by Arielle M. Bailey and Operation Lionhearted by Maribeth Barber were top-ten picks; and I also read through all three volumes of the T Spec Fiction ezine (a.k.a. Worlds of Adventure, as the third volume seems to be named) while I had Kindle Unlimited: collections of fun, clean sci-fi and fantasy short stories and serials. (My favorite stories were “The Aim High” and “To a Better Time” from Vol. 2 and “Secrets of the Nether Moor” from Vol. 3.)

Worst book of the year? Probably The Dreaming Suburb by R.F. Delderfield. I was hoping to find a new historical fiction author to enjoy, but there was too much that was distasteful to me in the story’s themes and content. And Murder by an Aristocrat by Mignon G. Eberhart exasperated me with its amateur-level plot holes (I think this may have been one of Eberhart’s first books).

And finally, some standout novels in various genres: The Dark Horse by Rumer Godden, Vittoria Cottage by D.E. Stevenson, and A Cigarette-Maker’s Romance by Francis Marion Crawford.

Previous years’ reading roundups: 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012.

// photo by myself

Filed Under: Reading, Reviews

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