What is it about British story-telling that we so love? From high art to satinated (let’s pretend this means the patina of drawing room satins) soap operas, nothing entertains like dear old England. Especially the fancy – or posh, in the vernacular.
To fully appreciate the top floor (and perhaps the original) American literary fascination with the UK, I have enlisted the help of Professor C. This will require some preparation. At some point in the next 2 weeks I will post his piece on the 1997 film adaptation of Henry James’ “Wings Of A Dove.” So perhaps this weekend, or through the upcoming week, you might watch the movie. On Netflix streaming, or here on Amazon. For extra credit, but not required by any means, you might read the book.
A little project, to be cheered if achieved and indulged if not.
In the meantime, Jeanne of Collage of Life has this for us, in which she recommends “The Gathering Storm,” the story of Winston and Clementine Churchill. She includes her own notable photos of Churchill’s house and gardens at Chartwell. So green, and, well, British.
Finally, on the bottom landing of art’s staircase, but poised above the basement of full commercial codswallop, (what good are period dramas if one cannot appropriate the idiom?) I’ve been watching the 2002 version of “The Forsyte Saga.” Oh the plummy tones, the paneled rooms, the expressive if stiff upper lips. Worth a spate of social class cliches, and a somewhat hackneyed story, if only to enjoy Irene’s dresses in the final episodes.
Have a wonderful weekend. Astride or sidesaddle, satin or homespun, your choice. If you have figured out the spell of British period dramas, please, explicate for the benefit of us all.
Corrected: The date of the film IS 1997. Thanks.