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Living Alone
Stella Benson (1892-1933) was an English feminist, travel writer, and novelist. Her works include "Pipers and a Dancer," "Worlds Within Worlds," "Living Alone," and many others.
276 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1919
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960 people want to read
About the author
Stella Benson
50 books33 followersStella Benson (1892-1933) was an English feminist, travel writer and novelist. Stella was often ill during her childhood. By her sixth birthday, she and her family, based in London, had moved frequently. She spent some of her childhood in Germany and Switzerland getting an education. She began writing a diary at the age of ten and kept it up for all of her life. By the time she was writing poetry, around the age of fourteen, her mother left her father; consequently, she saw her father infrequently. When she did see him, he encouraged her to quit writing poetry for the time being, until she was older and more experienced. Instead, Stella increased her writing output, adding novel-writing to her repertoire.
Stella was noted for being compassionate and interested in social issues. Like her older female relatives, she supported women's suffrage. During World War I, she supported the troops by gardening and by helping poor women in London's East End at the Charity Organisation Society. These efforts inspired Benson to write the novels I Pose (1915), This Is the End (1917) and Living Alone (1919). She also published her first volume of poetry, Twenty, in 1918.
Benson's writings kept coming, but none of her works is well known today. Pipers and a Dancer (1924) and Goodbye, Stranger (1926) were followed by another book of travel essays, Worlds Within Worlds, and the story The Man Who Missed the 'Bus in 1928. Her most famous work, the novel The Far-Away Bride, was published in the United States first in 1930 and as Tobit Transplanted in Britain in 1931. It won the Femina Vie Heureuse Prize. This was followed by two limited edition collections of short stories, Hope Against Hope (1931) and Christmas Formula (1932).
She died of pneumonia just before her forty-first birthday in December 1933, in the Vietnamese province of Tonkin. Her last unfinished novel Mundos and her personal selection of her best poetry, Poems, were published posthumously in 1935. Her Collected Stories were published in 1936. Anderson's sons from his second marriage were Benedict Anderson and Perry Anderson.
Stella was noted for being compassionate and interested in social issues. Like her older female relatives, she supported women's suffrage. During World War I, she supported the troops by gardening and by helping poor women in London's East End at the Charity Organisation Society. These efforts inspired Benson to write the novels I Pose (1915), This Is the End (1917) and Living Alone (1919). She also published her first volume of poetry, Twenty, in 1918.
Benson's writings kept coming, but none of her works is well known today. Pipers and a Dancer (1924) and Goodbye, Stranger (1926) were followed by another book of travel essays, Worlds Within Worlds, and the story The Man Who Missed the 'Bus in 1928. Her most famous work, the novel The Far-Away Bride, was published in the United States first in 1930 and as Tobit Transplanted in Britain in 1931. It won the Femina Vie Heureuse Prize. This was followed by two limited edition collections of short stories, Hope Against Hope (1931) and Christmas Formula (1932).
She died of pneumonia just before her forty-first birthday in December 1933, in the Vietnamese province of Tonkin. Her last unfinished novel Mundos and her personal selection of her best poetry, Poems, were published posthumously in 1935. Her Collected Stories were published in 1936. Anderson's sons from his second marriage were Benedict Anderson and Perry Anderson.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 90 reviews
May 6, 2022
In her time, Stella Benson was a well-known, award-winning author, part of circles that included Virginia Woolf, Vera Brittain, Naomi Mitchison and Winifred Holtby. But unlike these writers, Benson's sunk into relative obscurity. Her 1919 novel Living Alone reads like a precursor to later fantasies like Lolly Willowes and Lady into Fox, and seems to be an early indication of the growing interest in magic and the occult in post-WW1 England. It even appears on lists for the most popular books of 1919. It’s a challenging piece to summarize, part satirical, part surrealist. It features spinster Sarah Brown, whose closest companion's her beloved dog David. Through happenstance, Sarah crosses paths with a witch and goes to stay with her in her shop/boarding-house "Living Alone", a place in which classes mingle and normal social conventions are disregarded. The early stages of the novel present a sustained dig at social inequality, the condescending treatment of the poor by committees of well-meaning, well-heeled, middle-class women; as well as form an oblique commentary on the horror of the war raging across the sea. But as the narrative progresses it becomes increasingly weird: the witch mounts an aerial assault on a German witch sent to spy on England; Sarah visits a rural, fairyland realm, and a series of mishaps and misadventures follow. It's an unusual, perhaps unique, perspective on wartime London and there are some marvellous moments; as well as bursts of dry humour and frequent, snappy witticisms but the story itself's hard to fully interpret.
It’s clear Sarah is, in some senses, a version of Benson, who also worked the land and served on "tiresome", wartime committees. As in Lolly Willowes witches and witchcraft are a powerful antidote to the mundane and less palatable aspects of reality, as well as an unbridled, transgressive force. Sarah Brown’s association with the witch pushes her to places she might not want to go, but also enable her to move towards the prospect of a new life in a newer world – although Benson also suggests the world in general is a hard-to-negotiate space for any single woman, especially one in pursuit of freedom and a more egalitarian society. The ideas behind Benson's story are consistently intriguing, and there are some wonderful flights of fancy, including a cameo from a charming dragon and other memorable, folkloric/supernatural creatures. But, overall, it’s a very uneven piece - parts of which read more like a synopsis for a play or, at least, something other than a traditional novel. There are a number of awkwardly-verbose monologues, and oddly-disjointed sections, characters move in and out of view, sometimes to no clear purpose. Although, perhaps that's the point? Just as this chronicles an experiment in living that might lead to a different reality so, in line with her modernist leanings, Benson’s experimenting with how she structures her alternative vision. So, even though this is deeply flawed, I still found it fascinating.
Thanks to my GR friend Plateresca for buddy reading this with me, and offering a different perspective on the novel.
It’s clear Sarah is, in some senses, a version of Benson, who also worked the land and served on "tiresome", wartime committees. As in Lolly Willowes witches and witchcraft are a powerful antidote to the mundane and less palatable aspects of reality, as well as an unbridled, transgressive force. Sarah Brown’s association with the witch pushes her to places she might not want to go, but also enable her to move towards the prospect of a new life in a newer world – although Benson also suggests the world in general is a hard-to-negotiate space for any single woman, especially one in pursuit of freedom and a more egalitarian society. The ideas behind Benson's story are consistently intriguing, and there are some wonderful flights of fancy, including a cameo from a charming dragon and other memorable, folkloric/supernatural creatures. But, overall, it’s a very uneven piece - parts of which read more like a synopsis for a play or, at least, something other than a traditional novel. There are a number of awkwardly-verbose monologues, and oddly-disjointed sections, characters move in and out of view, sometimes to no clear purpose. Although, perhaps that's the point? Just as this chronicles an experiment in living that might lead to a different reality so, in line with her modernist leanings, Benson’s experimenting with how she structures her alternative vision. So, even though this is deeply flawed, I still found it fascinating.
Thanks to my GR friend Plateresca for buddy reading this with me, and offering a different perspective on the novel.
January 8, 2017
"This is not a real book. It does not deal with real people, nor should it be read by real people. But there are in the world so many real books already written for the benefit of real people, and there are still so many to be written, that I cannot believe that a little alien book such as this, written for the magically-inclined minority, can be considered too assertive a trespasser".
We have a witch (whose name might be Angela) and her broomstick Harold. We have a wizard whose name when his mother speaks it is Rrchurd, for everyone else he is Richard. We have Sarah Browne, committee woman, who has a dog named David and a suitcase named Humphrey. And we have a house, The House Of Living Alone. There is magic, there is humor, there is war, there is True Love. There is a lot more going on here than it might seem from the author's note quoted above, and for me it was all wonderful.
"Now witches and wizards, as you perhaps know, are people who are born for the first time. I suppose we have all passed through this fair experience, we must all have had our chance of making magic. But to most of us it came in the boring beginning of time, and we wasted our best spells on plesiosauri, and protoplasms, and angels with flaming swords, all of whom knew magic too, and were not impressed. Witches and wizards are now rare, though not so rare as you think. Remembering nothing, they know nothing, and are not bored."
Even though Benson says the book does not deal with real people, I cannot help but wonder if our two female leads are aspects of her own character. The proper committee woman, doing what she felt was The Right Thing At The Time during WWI; the creative free spirit who helped in her own way (accomplishing many more good deeds) and what happens to each of them when their lives entwine for a time.
I know I am not really saying too much about the book, but I really can't right now. Maybe after I re-read (already planning that!) I will be able to come back and be poetical. But meanwhile all I can say is that the book is clever, quirky, and speaks deeply to me all at the same time. I am delighted to have discovered Benson and her work!
We have a witch (whose name might be Angela) and her broomstick Harold. We have a wizard whose name when his mother speaks it is Rrchurd, for everyone else he is Richard. We have Sarah Browne, committee woman, who has a dog named David and a suitcase named Humphrey. And we have a house, The House Of Living Alone. There is magic, there is humor, there is war, there is True Love. There is a lot more going on here than it might seem from the author's note quoted above, and for me it was all wonderful.
"Now witches and wizards, as you perhaps know, are people who are born for the first time. I suppose we have all passed through this fair experience, we must all have had our chance of making magic. But to most of us it came in the boring beginning of time, and we wasted our best spells on plesiosauri, and protoplasms, and angels with flaming swords, all of whom knew magic too, and were not impressed. Witches and wizards are now rare, though not so rare as you think. Remembering nothing, they know nothing, and are not bored."
Even though Benson says the book does not deal with real people, I cannot help but wonder if our two female leads are aspects of her own character. The proper committee woman, doing what she felt was The Right Thing At The Time during WWI; the creative free spirit who helped in her own way (accomplishing many more good deeds) and what happens to each of them when their lives entwine for a time.
I know I am not really saying too much about the book, but I really can't right now. Maybe after I re-read (already planning that!) I will be able to come back and be poetical. But meanwhile all I can say is that the book is clever, quirky, and speaks deeply to me all at the same time. I am delighted to have discovered Benson and her work!
October 30, 2019
"This is not a real book. It does not deal with real people, nor should it be read by real people. But there are in the world so many real books already written for the benefit of real people, and there are still so many to be written, that I cannot believe that a little alien book such as this, written for the magically-inclined minority, can be considered too assertive a trespasser."
A deeply strange, odd little book that I only became aware of through a recent review in The Washington Post. Written 100 years ago, it really can't be compared to anything else (maybe if Harry Potter had been written by Henry James?), and the 'plot' such as it is, never fully comes together. But the writing itself is so astonishingly bizarre and fascinating that it keeps one involved and eager to get to the next bon mot. I found myself constantly re-reading paragraphs in amused delight.
A deeply strange, odd little book that I only became aware of through a recent review in The Washington Post. Written 100 years ago, it really can't be compared to anything else (maybe if Harry Potter had been written by Henry James?), and the 'plot' such as it is, never fully comes together. But the writing itself is so astonishingly bizarre and fascinating that it keeps one involved and eager to get to the next bon mot. I found myself constantly re-reading paragraphs in amused delight.
November 20, 2015
This book is so hard to rate, because the brilliant parts are so brilliant that they outshine the fact that the author seems to have set out to write a novel apparently without ever having read one, like it completely fails to do what you expect it to, it doesn't fit together, the tone is constantly wandering everywhere...and yet it is full of these astonishing little moments that I was constantly copying out and emailing to friends.
Although the author herself does say in the introduction that:
This is not a real book. It does not deal with real people, nor should it be read by real people. But there are in the world so many real books already written for the benefit of real people, and there are still so many to be written, that I cannot believe that a little alien book such as this, written for the magically-inclined minority, can be considered too assertive a trespasser.
It's half a sort of feminist Wodehouse-ish satire of upper-middle-class ladies and their "good works" during WWI...and half a strange but lovable fantasy adventure about a witch who runs a boardinghouse for people who want to live alone.
Here is the first paragraph, which I immediately fell in love with:
There were six women, seven chairs, and a table in an otherwise unfurnished room in an unfashionable part of London. Three of the women were of the kind that has no life apart from committees. They need not be mentioned in detail. The names of two others were Miss Meta Mostyn Ford and Lady Arabel Higgins. Miss Ford was a good woman, as well as a lady. Her hands were beautiful because they paid a manicurist to keep them so, but she was too righteous to powder her nose. She was the sort of person a man would like his best friend to marry. Lady Arabel was older: she was virtuous to the same extent as Achilles was invulnerable. In the beginning, when her soul was being soaked in virtue, the heel of it was fortunately left dry. She had a husband, but no apparent tragedy in her life. These two women were obviously not native to their surroundings. Their eyelashes brought Bond Street—or at least Kensington—to mind; their shoes were mudless; their gloves had not been bought in the sales. Of the sixth woman the less said the better.
Although the author herself does say in the introduction that:
This is not a real book. It does not deal with real people, nor should it be read by real people. But there are in the world so many real books already written for the benefit of real people, and there are still so many to be written, that I cannot believe that a little alien book such as this, written for the magically-inclined minority, can be considered too assertive a trespasser.
It's half a sort of feminist Wodehouse-ish satire of upper-middle-class ladies and their "good works" during WWI...and half a strange but lovable fantasy adventure about a witch who runs a boardinghouse for people who want to live alone.
Here is the first paragraph, which I immediately fell in love with:
There were six women, seven chairs, and a table in an otherwise unfurnished room in an unfashionable part of London. Three of the women were of the kind that has no life apart from committees. They need not be mentioned in detail. The names of two others were Miss Meta Mostyn Ford and Lady Arabel Higgins. Miss Ford was a good woman, as well as a lady. Her hands were beautiful because they paid a manicurist to keep them so, but she was too righteous to powder her nose. She was the sort of person a man would like his best friend to marry. Lady Arabel was older: she was virtuous to the same extent as Achilles was invulnerable. In the beginning, when her soul was being soaked in virtue, the heel of it was fortunately left dry. She had a husband, but no apparent tragedy in her life. These two women were obviously not native to their surroundings. Their eyelashes brought Bond Street—or at least Kensington—to mind; their shoes were mudless; their gloves had not been bought in the sales. Of the sixth woman the less said the better.
May 29, 2011
From the first paragraph I knew this was my kind of book. I wish I could write like Stella Benson, though without the casual anti-Semitism. There is some extraordinary writing in this book -- it skates on the edge of tweeness without falling unforgivably over, I think, but many might and probably would differ. But it's the kind of style a lot of writers try for but fail to achieve, with dismal results.
I liked the desolateness of the House of Living Alone, and the idea of witches and wizards being witches and wizards because they have been born for the first time. The story kind of fell apart towards the end -- I mean, it wasn't the kind of book that necessarily needed a plot or for things to be tied up tidily, but it failed to live up to its potential. I think it failed to retain the emotional significance it could've had if she'd managed it more neatly.
I liked the desolateness of the House of Living Alone, and the idea of witches and wizards being witches and wizards because they have been born for the first time. The story kind of fell apart towards the end -- I mean, it wasn't the kind of book that necessarily needed a plot or for things to be tied up tidily, but it failed to live up to its potential. I think it failed to retain the emotional significance it could've had if she'd managed it more neatly.
October 3, 2020
I think there might have been a story under the copious verbiage and almost stream of consciousness storytelling. There was a witch, a strange house called Living Alone, an animated broomstick, a dog, a pair of annoying do-gooders and a really annoying soldier/wizard. And WW1 was going on in the background.
I could see the occasional satirical and sharply-written sentence, which was often overwhelmed by many superfluous sentences on a page. And I think there was some humour, too.
Oh well, at least this is off my TBR now.
I could see the occasional satirical and sharply-written sentence, which was often overwhelmed by many superfluous sentences on a page. And I think there was some humour, too.
Oh well, at least this is off my TBR now.
February 28, 2023
honnêtement je ne pense pas avoir saisi mais j’ai trouvé terrrrrablement drôle 🤣
vive les autrices britanniques
vive les autrices britanniques
Read
August 4, 2022Un roman léger et plutôt drôle, qui m’a donné des vibes Terry Pratchett dans son style de narration et son humour. Je ne pense pas qu’il me marquera à vie, mais j’ai bien aimé son univers fantasque.
May 6, 2022
'Now there is hardly anything but magic abroad before seven o'clock in the morning.'
A very original novel that is funny in the beginning, magical in the middle and in the end.
It is full of clever, insightful observations like this one:
'She was defenseless against impressions, and too many impressions make the heart very tired.'
What I found interesting, among other things, was that though nature is presented in a very romantic manner in this book, the description of working the land is very much realistic:
'Time wears a strangely different guise out of doors. Under the sun time stands almost still. Only when every minute is a physical effort do you discover that there really are sixty minutes in an hour, and that one hour is very little nearer to the evening than another.'
So I felt mostly in agreement with the ideas expressed by the narrator, but when the characters began to speak in the same way, somehow this did not seem natural to me and practically every dialogue broke the enchantment.
On the other hand, it's a book that calls for kindness, so the author's unkindness to the main character saddened me deeply.
On the positive side, one of the characters is the dog David, and he's lovely and he's all right in the end.
A very original novel that is funny in the beginning, magical in the middle and in the end.
It is full of clever, insightful observations like this one:
'She was defenseless against impressions, and too many impressions make the heart very tired.'
What I found interesting, among other things, was that though nature is presented in a very romantic manner in this book, the description of working the land is very much realistic:
'Time wears a strangely different guise out of doors. Under the sun time stands almost still. Only when every minute is a physical effort do you discover that there really are sixty minutes in an hour, and that one hour is very little nearer to the evening than another.'
So I felt mostly in agreement with the ideas expressed by the narrator, but when the characters began to speak in the same way, somehow this did not seem natural to me and practically every dialogue broke the enchantment.
On the other hand, it's a book that calls for kindness, so the author's unkindness to the main character saddened me deeply.
On the positive side, one of the characters is the dog David, and he's lovely and he's all right in the end.
January 1, 2021
This is a brilliant book, it's not what you'll expect from a book and that makes it absolutely perfect.
February 25, 2017
Available on Project Gutenberg.
I thought this was a fascinating, amusing little book, (though I wouldn't have wanted it to be much longer) It's a tale of witches and magic, set during the First World War. Much of the background ( not the magic!) comes from Stella Benson's own experiences. Some of this factual information is almost as ridiculous as some of the made up stuff. Which I think may be SB's point.
Here's an interesting article about the book and SB:
http://fantasy.glasgow.ac.uk/stella-b...
I ended up reading quite a lot of background about SB, whom I'd never heard of. She definitely mixed in literary crowds and was a feminist. The background really interests me. She seems to be a 'forgotten' writer; hopefully more interest will develop in her at some stage.
Apparently this novel is a precursor to Lolly Willowes, which is another book I'm planning to read this year.
I thought this was a fascinating, amusing little book, (though I wouldn't have wanted it to be much longer) It's a tale of witches and magic, set during the First World War. Much of the background ( not the magic!) comes from Stella Benson's own experiences. Some of this factual information is almost as ridiculous as some of the made up stuff. Which I think may be SB's point.
Here's an interesting article about the book and SB:
http://fantasy.glasgow.ac.uk/stella-b...
I ended up reading quite a lot of background about SB, whom I'd never heard of. She definitely mixed in literary crowds and was a feminist. The background really interests me. She seems to be a 'forgotten' writer; hopefully more interest will develop in her at some stage.
Apparently this novel is a precursor to Lolly Willowes, which is another book I'm planning to read this year.
November 3, 2024
TRÈS TRÈS plaisant! Un peu loufoque et décousu mais peut importe, j’ai passé un trop bon moment.
La plume est jolie comme tout. C’est le genre de magie paillette qui me fait du bien ✨
La plume est jolie comme tout. C’est le genre de magie paillette qui me fait du bien ✨
May 24, 2024
I have thought a great deal about this since finishing it. It's a brilliant if difficult to read book, utterly timeless in its unique treatment of war, poverty, and magic.
December 1, 2011
Perhaps it loses a little steam toward the end, but what a magical little book. Written and set during the tail end of the first world war, Living Alone presents us with a nameless witch, named inanimate objects (and the Dog David Blessing), a boarding-house founded on solitude and a pathetically sympathetic protagonist who shares the author's initials. Yes, it's a bit twee, so if you don't go in for that sort of thing you'd best stray far from Benson's springtime story, but her writing is so clever and lovely and present in the act of escaping that I can't help but recommend it to everyone else. I read this entirely on my iPod (finished this morning in a doctor's waiting room!), highlighting lines I loved with gleeful abandon. To wit:
and
and
and, hilariously,
and
and, tragically,
and
and, finally, my favorite,
Love.
Want to read more? Of course you do. Here.
Perhaps she was only half a woman, so that half a joy could make her heart reel and sing, and half a sorrow break it.
and
Of such stuff as this is the backbone of England made, which is perhaps why the backbone of England sometimes seems so sadly inflexible.
and
There is a dream that binds your mind as you cross the forest; it is like an imitation of eternity, so that, as you pass into the forest's shade, time passes from before you, and, as you pass out of it, you seem to have lived a thousand quiet and utterly forgotten lives.
and, hilariously,
The daisies looked one in the face, but the violets did not, because they had morbidly bad manners. Still of course manners are very small change and count for very little; the violet, being an artist, is entitled to any manners it likes, while the daisy has no temperament whatever, and no excuse for eccentricity.
and
Magic, as you know, has limitations. Fire is of course a plaything in magic hands. Water has its docile moments, the earth herself may be tampered with, and an incantation may call man or any of his possessions to attention. But space is too great a thing, space is the inconceivable Hand, holding aloft this fragile delusion that is our world. There is no power that can mock at space, there is no enchantment that is not lost between us and the moon, and all magic people know — and tremble to know — that in a breath, between one second and another, that Hand may close, and the shell of time first crack and then be crushed, and magic be one with nothingness and death and all other delusions. This is why magic, which treats the other elements as its servants, bows before space, and has to call such a purely independent contrivance as a broomstick to its help in the matter of air-travel.
and, tragically,
Her eyes had the pathetic look often seen in stupid people's eyes, the "Don't-listen-to-me" look, "I am not saying what I should like to say. The real Me is better than this."
and
"I suppose if you didn't have this big label sticking up in your harbour, you Americans might forget that America is the Home of Liberty. I know quite a lot about America from a grey squirrel who rents my may-tree on Mitten Island. It is a long time since he came over, but he still chitters away with a strong New England accent. He came away because he was a socialist. I gather America is too full of Liberty to leave room for socialism, isn't that so?"
and, finally, my favorite,
Only the disciples of magic like getting their feet wet, and being furiously happy on an empty stomach.
Love.
Want to read more? Of course you do. Here.
March 20, 2016
A woman bursts in upon a charitable committee, having just stolen a bun and needing to hide from the police. The charitable committee immediately start doing what charitable committees of the time were supposed to do: find reasons not to help her. But the woman doesn’t need or want help. She’s a witch, and her pockets are full of packets of magic. She lives at Number 100 Beautiful Way, Mitten Island, London, in a shop-cum-boarding house called Living Alone. One of the committee members, Sarah Brown, gives up her position at the charity and moves into this curious house. Enchanted by the world of witches and wizards — she has a brief stint as a land-girl on a Faery Farm, whose foreman is a dragon — she is nevertheless not magical herself. If this novel has a story at all it is hers, and it’s about her ‘alone-ness’: not the independence, self-sufficiency and self-centredness of the wizards and witches, nor the inauthentic conventionality of the ordinary world, Sarah Brown’s inability to fit into either world is the one sadness in what is an otherwise self-declared ‘book of fine weather’.
And it is, in the main, a book of ‘fine weather’ — of nonsense, magic, light satire and humour — despite being set during the First World War. Chapter 6 sees ‘our witch’ encountering a German counterpart in the night skies of London during a bombing raid:
"We are Crusaders," said the German. "Crusaders at War with Evil."
"Why, how funny—so are we," said our witch. "But then how very peculiar that two Crusaders should apparently be fighting each other. Where then is the Evil? In No Man's Land?"
A thoroughly unconventional and individual book, Living Alone, published in 1919, walks a meandering line between wilful oddity and genuine funniness, with the occasional poetic truth thrown in. It’s not a gripping read, it may be occasionally annoying, but it certainly has its rewards:
"I could of course cure you of the nerve-storms you speak of. Or rather I could help you to have nerve-storms all the time, without any stagnant grown-upness in between. Then you wouldn't notice the nerve-storms.”
“Fairies are never ill. They have immortal bodies, but no souls. If they see you in pain, they simply think you are flaunting your superiority and your immortal soul in their faces.”
"Here we are," said the witch to Sarah Brown. "At least, I suppose this City on its Tiptoes is New York. Do you think I ought to call the attention of the Captain to that largish lady on our left, who seems to be marooned upon a rock, and signalling to us for help?"
And it is, in the main, a book of ‘fine weather’ — of nonsense, magic, light satire and humour — despite being set during the First World War. Chapter 6 sees ‘our witch’ encountering a German counterpart in the night skies of London during a bombing raid:
"We are Crusaders," said the German. "Crusaders at War with Evil."
"Why, how funny—so are we," said our witch. "But then how very peculiar that two Crusaders should apparently be fighting each other. Where then is the Evil? In No Man's Land?"
A thoroughly unconventional and individual book, Living Alone, published in 1919, walks a meandering line between wilful oddity and genuine funniness, with the occasional poetic truth thrown in. It’s not a gripping read, it may be occasionally annoying, but it certainly has its rewards:
"I could of course cure you of the nerve-storms you speak of. Or rather I could help you to have nerve-storms all the time, without any stagnant grown-upness in between. Then you wouldn't notice the nerve-storms.”
“Fairies are never ill. They have immortal bodies, but no souls. If they see you in pain, they simply think you are flaunting your superiority and your immortal soul in their faces.”
"Here we are," said the witch to Sarah Brown. "At least, I suppose this City on its Tiptoes is New York. Do you think I ought to call the attention of the Captain to that largish lady on our left, who seems to be marooned upon a rock, and signalling to us for help?"
October 16, 2023
Le style délicieux et piquant de Beson m'a enchantée !
J'étais tout de même bien perdue au cours de ma lecture, mais cet humour grinçant anglais ancré dans un Londres merveilleux de la Première Guerre mondial a su me tenir.
J'ai pensé tout du long à Diana Wynn Jones et son célèbre "Château de Hurle". Ces objets incarnés et ce chien malicieux vexé de son 2e prénom y ont beaucoup contribué. Nul doute que Stella Benson a été lue par Diana Wynn Jones !
J'étais tout de même bien perdue au cours de ma lecture, mais cet humour grinçant anglais ancré dans un Londres merveilleux de la Première Guerre mondial a su me tenir.
J'ai pensé tout du long à Diana Wynn Jones et son célèbre "Château de Hurle". Ces objets incarnés et ce chien malicieux vexé de son 2e prénom y ont beaucoup contribué. Nul doute que Stella Benson a été lue par Diana Wynn Jones !
January 29, 2023
2.5/5 une lecture déroutante qui me laisse un peu perplexe. Je ne suis pas sûre d'avoir tout compris tellement c'est loufoque parfois. J'ai eu du mal à entrer dans l'histoire mais j'ai apprécié la lecture de la deuxième moitié du livre ainsi que la découverte de Stella Benson. Je ne pense pas relire ce texte dans ma vie mais c'était une bonne expérience malgré tout.
March 1, 2015
A bit too twee for me, but she still writes brilliantly and has a great sense of humour
October 10, 2020
I don’t have a single idea what I just read but okay.
April 2, 2023
“This is not a real book. It does not deal with real people, nor should it be read by real people. But there are in the world so many real books already written for the benefit of real people, and there are still so many to be written, that I cannot believe that a little alien book such as this, written for the magically-inclined minority, can be considered too assertive a trespasser.”
Living Alone was written by Stella Benson and published in 1919. This is a fantasy story set during World War 1 in London. A woman named Sarah Brown who leads an uneventful life attending charity committees ends up crossing paths with a witch. This witch invites her and her dog David to come live at the house of living alone. A boarding house for those that want to live alone. Sarah Brown ends up thrust into a magical world in the midst of the horrors of war going on around her.
This was such a bizarre little book that really had no plot to speak of. Every scene was very random, yet I have to say this was quite a delight to read. The idea of the house of living alone was wonderful and hilariously on point for those introverts who relish the idea of living alone. There were so many delightful aspects of the book besides the house; a dragon who oversees a farm and lacks discipline, a witch’s broom with a mind of it’s own, a wizard seeking his True Love and witches from warring countries meeting on a cloud during an air raid.
I do recommend this for those that would like a little bit of bizarre fantasy from the past. If you like things with a plot and that make sense, this may drive you crazy however.
Living Alone was written by Stella Benson and published in 1919. This is a fantasy story set during World War 1 in London. A woman named Sarah Brown who leads an uneventful life attending charity committees ends up crossing paths with a witch. This witch invites her and her dog David to come live at the house of living alone. A boarding house for those that want to live alone. Sarah Brown ends up thrust into a magical world in the midst of the horrors of war going on around her.
This was such a bizarre little book that really had no plot to speak of. Every scene was very random, yet I have to say this was quite a delight to read. The idea of the house of living alone was wonderful and hilariously on point for those introverts who relish the idea of living alone. There were so many delightful aspects of the book besides the house; a dragon who oversees a farm and lacks discipline, a witch’s broom with a mind of it’s own, a wizard seeking his True Love and witches from warring countries meeting on a cloud during an air raid.
I do recommend this for those that would like a little bit of bizarre fantasy from the past. If you like things with a plot and that make sense, this may drive you crazy however.
May 10, 2024
Une fantasie engagée, dans laquelle l'autrice dénonce les horreurs de la guerre et le traitement des pauvres par l'humour. J'ai adoré cette lecture, elle est très percutante.
February 18, 2021
Une très chouette lecture !
On y suit une sorcière décidée et curieuse du monde, insensible aux étranges codes des sociétés non-magiques, et une jeune femme qui travaille dans une organisation caritative (de celles qui consistent principalement à surveiller les pauvres, puisqu'on le sait, les pauvres sont irresponsables) puisque ses douleurs chroniques l'éloignent des autres travaux. Elle aussi a du mal à s'entendre avec les autres humains, heureusement que son chien est toujours là pour la comprendre.
C'est du fantastique un peu absurde (même si moi j'ai trouvé que ça faisait parfaitement sens), acidulé et critique en passant. C'est très décalé, mais pas décalé pareil de ce que j'ai l'habitude, là c'était plus calé sur moi. Et décalé du monde, de fait. La narration est plutôt décousue, enchaîne d'une anecdote et d'un moment à l'autre, avec des chapitres qui se tiennent, ce qui m'en a fait une lecture très facile et légère.
Je vous rappelle que d'après l'autrice, ce n'est pas un vrai livre et il n'est pas fait pour être lu par de vraies personnes.
Les illustrations d'Anouck Faure ajoutent une touche douce à l'ouvrage, avec ses traits magiques !
Publié pour la première fois en 1919 sous le titre Living Alone, cette réédition (qui arrive de façon amusante en même temps que celle des éditions Cambourakis !) remet à l'honneur une autrice méconnue de nos jours.
(Je préviens qu'à plusieurs reprises, on a des descriptions grossophobes de personnages antagonistes), et que l'histoire se déroule durant la première guerre mondiale.
On y suit une sorcière décidée et curieuse du monde, insensible aux étranges codes des sociétés non-magiques, et une jeune femme qui travaille dans une organisation caritative (de celles qui consistent principalement à surveiller les pauvres, puisqu'on le sait, les pauvres sont irresponsables) puisque ses douleurs chroniques l'éloignent des autres travaux. Elle aussi a du mal à s'entendre avec les autres humains, heureusement que son chien est toujours là pour la comprendre.
C'est du fantastique un peu absurde (même si moi j'ai trouvé que ça faisait parfaitement sens), acidulé et critique en passant. C'est très décalé, mais pas décalé pareil de ce que j'ai l'habitude, là c'était plus calé sur moi. Et décalé du monde, de fait. La narration est plutôt décousue, enchaîne d'une anecdote et d'un moment à l'autre, avec des chapitres qui se tiennent, ce qui m'en a fait une lecture très facile et légère.
Je vous rappelle que d'après l'autrice, ce n'est pas un vrai livre et il n'est pas fait pour être lu par de vraies personnes.
Les illustrations d'Anouck Faure ajoutent une touche douce à l'ouvrage, avec ses traits magiques !
Publié pour la première fois en 1919 sous le titre Living Alone, cette réédition (qui arrive de façon amusante en même temps que celle des éditions Cambourakis !) remet à l'honneur une autrice méconnue de nos jours.
(Je préviens qu'à plusieurs reprises, on a des descriptions grossophobes de personnages antagonistes), et que l'histoire se déroule durant la première guerre mondiale.
June 6, 2016
Sweet little novel about a witch and a social worker in WWI era London. There is some flying about on a sentient broomstick, some landscaping work in a faery garden, and a few poignant observations about human life and loneliness in the shadow of hard times. It safely treads ground others have walked before and since, but is still a charming story in its own right.
February 16, 2024
Une jolie poésie, un mélange absurde entre la violence du réel et l'incongru du magique.
"Le temps revêt un aspect curieusement différent en plein air. Sous le soleil, il se tient presque immobile. Ce n’est qu’en faisant de chaque minute un effort physique que l’on découvre qu’il en faut soixante pour composer une heure, et que cette heure ne nous rapproche que très peu du soir. Ceux qui travaillent en intérieur, sous la direction des horloges, ne rencontrent jamais le temps en personne. Leurs secondes hâtives sont balayées par le cliquetis des machines à écrire, et lorsque ces dernières se taisent, leur journée prend fin. Nous autres, les ouvriers de plein air, devons affronter une éternité quotidienne, durant laquelle seules nos mains sont occupées. Entre l’aube et le crépuscule, notre esprit peut inventer tout et son contraire ; l’avenir peut être remodelé en une heure, l’espoir tué et ressuscité avant qu’un merle ne termine sa chanson. Nous savons la durée des jours. Et après de nombreux mois, longs et contraignants, quand enfin nous regagnons les bureaux, perplexes et usés par tant de silence et de réflexions, c’est pour découvrir que nos amis, flottant innocemment à la surface du temps, n’ont pas changé depuis notre départ."
"Le temps revêt un aspect curieusement différent en plein air. Sous le soleil, il se tient presque immobile. Ce n’est qu’en faisant de chaque minute un effort physique que l’on découvre qu’il en faut soixante pour composer une heure, et que cette heure ne nous rapproche que très peu du soir. Ceux qui travaillent en intérieur, sous la direction des horloges, ne rencontrent jamais le temps en personne. Leurs secondes hâtives sont balayées par le cliquetis des machines à écrire, et lorsque ces dernières se taisent, leur journée prend fin. Nous autres, les ouvriers de plein air, devons affronter une éternité quotidienne, durant laquelle seules nos mains sont occupées. Entre l’aube et le crépuscule, notre esprit peut inventer tout et son contraire ; l’avenir peut être remodelé en une heure, l’espoir tué et ressuscité avant qu’un merle ne termine sa chanson. Nous savons la durée des jours. Et après de nombreux mois, longs et contraignants, quand enfin nous regagnons les bureaux, perplexes et usés par tant de silence et de réflexions, c’est pour découvrir que nos amis, flottant innocemment à la surface du temps, n’ont pas changé depuis notre départ."
January 23, 2024
3.75 A strange blast from the past where fantasy was some outré and almost exclusively male genre. It has a bit too much internal logic and everyday awareness bleeding through for magic realism and some frankly seriously modern ideas, which makes for a nice dissociating effect. It is not a page-turner though - the scenes and some of the conceits were a little too random to me. Style and characters are good and imagery is excellent to outstanding. Don't regret reading it, even if it took me ages to finish. Not really casual reading, but certainly not for historical interest only either. And hey, public domain.
October 16, 2024
The parts of this that I liked I really liked so overall it was an enjoyable experience - particularly how it looked at class and the vagaries of ‘committeeism’ in ways that still stand scrutiny today. However there were parts later on where I’m not entirely sure what on earth was going on and that felt rather episodic and not particularly integrated into the overall narrative with some pretty major developments that seemed to come from nowhere. I’m sure she had her reasons and I still enjoyed more than I didn’t so Benson feels like an interesting author to delve into a bit more in the future.
March 24, 2024
Une étrange lecture, pleine de magie, d'humour et de critique societale si juste et malheureusement encore d'actualité pour certain sujet. Un livre si moderne pour l' époque. Il n'y a pas réellement d'histoire, mais on s'en fout. On a tous besoin d'une sorcières comme celle du roman dans nos vie. Je pense comprendre les raisons de l'admiration de Virginia Woolf pour Stella Benson et j'ai bien envie de creuser l'histoire de cette écrivaine .
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August 27, 2023Very charming satire apparently first published in 1919. Line for line, extremely funny. I think I might finish this book if I had a physical copy that I could pick up and put down but since this an ebook and I’ve gotten the gist, DNF @ 21%.
September 17, 2023
Benson walked so that Wynne Jones and Pratchett could fly.
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November 16, 2023j'abandonne à 35% / DNF.
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