Audiobooks and archives

Before last autumn I think the only audiobooks I'd ever listened to had been CDs the children chose for long journeys. Roald Dahl, Richmal Crompton and Joyce Grenfell - we loved them all, but in recent years I'd forgotten them. The weedy earphones that came with my phone didn't help - I was forever getting the wire muddled up, or accidentally yanking them out of my ears. In fact the one thing for which they did come in useful was that pivotal Archers' episode in which Helen confronted Evil Rob - I was at a bus stop at the time, and remember how the rain poured down as a tuna bake ignited the final dramatic unravelling of that toxic relationship.

Then last year I found myself no longer in the city. In rural Aberdeenshire I could take long, solitary walks every day. Beside the river, along the country paths and round the fields I trudged, and I realised that this would be the ideal time to 'read' more books. By then I'd acquired over-head earphones, but the wires were still annoying me - then, THEN! - I acquired a cordless set, and - as Rita Mae Brown once said of her library card - 'my life began.' 

Simultaneously, I discovered BBC Sounds (formerly BBC Radio i-Player). I'd used it in the past to catch up on those addictive Archers. but not realised how much else it offers. Dig around in the app and up comes a plethora of choice. Music, from folk to rock, jazz, electronica and classical, and 'speech' - drama, arts, news, food, comedy, politics, travel, history and much more. Audiobooks have their own section; the contents change from time to time, but once you've donwloaded a book it's on your phone unless and until you delete it. So, over a mellow autumn and now a freezing winter, I have listened to numerous books that I probably would not otherwise have opened, even though quite a few of them are sitting on my shelves. I've also discovered lots of archived radio programmes. Here are some of my favourites:

Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton, read by Joseph Ayre

Having always felt a bit intimidated by Wharton, I had left The Age of Innocence unread upon the shelf for quite a while. Ethan Frome, the sad story of a near destitute farmer in 19th century New England, his loveless marriage and his doomed chance of love, may not sound very promising, but it is Wharton's skillful writing and luminous prose that bring this novel alive. In lesser hands we would be shown Ethan's wife Zeena as bad, her cousin Mattie as pure and good, and Ethan himself as the victim of circumstances - but Wharton continually interrogates the characters of all three main players, showing us that nobody is perfect in an imperfect world. Simple, everyday scenes are beautifully described;

The sun slanted through the south window onto the girl's moving figure, on the cat dozing in a chair and onto the geraniums brought in from the doorway, where Ethan had planted them in the summer to make a garden for Mattie.

The bone-chilling winter, the bleak snow-covered landscape;

Here and there a farmhouse stood, far back among the fields, mute and cold as a gravestone.

I have read comments by people in the US who loathe this book because they were force-fed it at school. The practice of  'set books' is such a negative one - it caused me to feel similarly about The Lord of the Flies, A Midsummer Night's Dream (thankfully I'm over that one) and The Hobbit, so I sympathise. Coming to Ethan Frome as I did, however, was a wonderful, enlightening experience, and has made me much less nervous about tackling Wharton's other works.  

The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, read by Sam Dale and Clare Corbett
The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James, read by Miriam Margolyes

James is another writer with a 'difficult' reputation, and it is true that his style is dense, his sentences long and convoluted. Perhaps listening renders him more accessible than reading, but I loved both of these books.  The Turn of the Screw (much of which I listened to while wandering about in our local graveyard) is a ghost story - or is it?  James leaves open the quesion of whether a young governess, sent to look after two children in a remote country house, really sees the ghosts of their previous tutor and her lover, or whether that governess is, in fact, losing her grip on reality. 

There are no ghosts, but similar ambiguity, in The Portrait of a Lady, in which an independent, orphaned young woman, Isabel Archer, leaves her native New York to visit her aunt, uncle and cousin in England. Here she is wooed by several suitors, but it is when she travels to Italy that she is eventually manipulated into marrying a very unsuitable man. At the end of the book Isabel manages, against her husband's will, to travel back to England to see a member of the family who is dying, but whether she will return, and if so for what reason, remains unclear.  The novel's themes of freedom, choice and obligation never threaten to overwhelm the story itself, but are instead illuminated through the thoughts and actions of a memorable heroine.

Proof by Dick Francis

A former steeplchase jockey, Dick Francis wrote over forty crime novels set in the horseracing world.  Not being especially interested in horses, racing or otherwise, and in particular not wanting to read about dead or injured animals, I had never read any of them, but having been assured by a fellow BBC Sounds fan that there was none of that in Proof, I decided to give it a try.  

A wine merchant, Tony Beach, (played by the excellent Nigel Havers) has a contract to supply the drinks for a successful trainer's summer party. When a parked horse box somehow runs out of control and crashes into a marquee full of VIPs, Tony finds himself caught up in a world of illicit whisky and mislabelled wine. I enjoyed this insight into a world about which I know nothing, and the character of Tony - a recently bereaved widower - was well developed and felt real. I have to admit that even at the end I didn't really have a clue who had done what or why, but nevertheless this was a good listen. 

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, read by Susan Jamieson

I've tried to force myself through Wuthering Heights many times. Everything puts me off; the impenetrable dialect, the endless misery, the bleak location.  I've never got far past the first few chapters. I thought I'd give it one more try in audiobook version, and even then I struggled for a while. Susan Jamieson is an excellent reader, but the thought of 34 chapters of unrelenting gloom was increasingly daunting. I asked Twitter if I should carry on - and a very helpful tweeter, Alice Stainer. explained why she loves WH and why it is important. So on I trudged, and although I still found it hard work at times, I'm very glad I did. Not only does it cheer up a bit at the end (!), but I am still thinking about it weeks later. It broke many boundaries and is an immensely powerful meditation on love, hatred and obsession. 

And now I've conquered it. 

The 39 Steps by John Buchan, read by Kenny Blyth

This is something of a 'boy's own' story of derring-do, but it's fast-paced and exciting, and if you can put aside some of the less savoury attitudes of its time, it's a great listen. The narrator, Richard Hannay, returns to London from what was then Rhodesia, and, being bored, more or less volunteers to get involved in an attempt to overthrow a plot aimed at stealing Britain's secret plans for the imminent war. 

There are deaths, kidnaps, car crashes and goodness knows what else as Hannay rushes up and down the country to evade his pursuers and get them brought to justice. Buchan is very good at developing even minor characters, like the helpful, hungover, Scottish road mender who is only too happy to go home to bed and let Hannay take over his job in disguise, and the jovial aristocratic landowner Harry Bullivant (whose uncle is, handily, a bigwig in the Foreign Office.) Great fun.

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame, read by Michael Bertenshaw

I've read this book many times, but I still enjoyed Michael Bertenshaw's superb rendition. I found I noticed different things - perhaps because I was walking the river bank and field paths as I listened, or perhaps because Bertenshaw is such a very good reader. Ratty's thoughts on the changing of the seasons, and of the particular joys of each one, seemed especially true, as did Mole's realisation that he would always be best suited to the quiet ways, and the 'lane of evening lingerings.'  The only thing I wasn't quite so sure about was Badger, to whom Bertenshaw ascribed a Scottish accent reminiscent of Billy Connolly - but then again, who am I to say what Badger sounds like? 

The Railway Children by E Nesbit, read by Sarah Ovens

Another book that I've read more than once, and of course we've probably all seen the famous film, but again listening to it being read to me meant I noticed different things. I'm sorry to say that what hit me most of all this time was how useless Mother is. I know she's having a hard time, but she really does leave poor Bobby to shoulder so many burdens. I suppose she's not been brought up to know how to manage a household - but even with someone in to 'do the rough', she apparently only thrives once she receives a hamper from Fortnums! Nevertheless, the children and Albert Perks are the best bits of the story, and Sarah Ovens brings them all to life very well. 

Brief Lives by Tom Fry and Sharon Kelly

There seem to be at least eleven series of this drama, which is set in a Manchester legal practice. Frank (David Schofield) and Sarah (Kathryn Hunt) are paralegals and also life partners. Each week they are confronted by a new case, and often also by challenges on the domestic front. Schofield and Hunt are both very convincing, the writing is excellent, the dialogue flows, and it's refreshing, I think, to find writers who highlight the down to earth work of paralegals rather than the usual focus on high profile barristers.

Julie Enfield Investigates: Terminus by Nick Fisher

This is one of a series originally aired in 1994. Imelda Staunton takes the lead role as Enfield, a police detective solving murders by day and caring for her elderly, irascible (but sometimes quite helpful...) father by night. Terminus has a Gothic feel to it; murders are happening in a London station, but the only witness appears to be the station itself, which becomes a speaking character. I don't usually like this sort of thing, but here it works, and we still feel rooted in a real story in a sometimes very creepy location.  The juxtaposition of Enfield's professional and private lives leads to a much more three-dimensional story than we are often given in police procedurals - Enfield (not an alcoholic! how unusual is that in this genre?) is a 'normal' person with problems most of us recognise. And as usual, I had little idea who the murderer was till the very last minute. 

Have His Carcase by Dorothy L Sayers

Having read all of Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey books as a teenager, I must say I do now find them slightly less appealing. The snobbery and outdated attitudes can grate, as can the way in which Wimsey gets everyone to do everything for him just by being posh. Listening to this one, however, was more enjoyable; the action flies along, Ian Carmichael and Moira Aitken convey real chemistry in the lead roles, and I especially liked Isabel Dean as the rich, clueless widow betrothed (or so she thinks) to a dancer half her age. As with so many crime writers of this era, there was a little too much emphasis on precise timings and locations for me, but unlike many other such authors, Sayers does flesh out her characters, making the whole story come alive. 

The Charles Paris mysteries, adapted by Jeremy Front from the books by Simon Brett

For me, as for so many, Bill Nighy can do no wrong. In these series he plays actor and unintentional sleuth Charles Paris. Paris is lazy, self-indulgent, louche, and out of work more than he is in it. He is happy spending his days in bars and greasy spoon cafes, and if he's not doing that he's usually cadging off Frances, his long-suffering semi-estranged wife (Suzanne Burden, who brings a brilliant combination of cynicism and grudging affection to the role) or badgering his ineffective poser of an agent, Maurice (played perfectly by Jon Glover.) The murders that pepper each story don't really matter very much, they are secondary vehicles allowing us to enjoy Paris's bad behaviour, Maurice's slippery charm and Frances's knowing weariness. 

A Cinderella Killer and A Doubtful Death are currently (January 2021) on BBC Sounds, but my favourite so far is An Amateur Corpse, in which the much loved and missed Geraldine McEwan starred as Charles's equally badly-behaved and hilariously funny mother, Joan. They're all good though!

I'm looking forward to many more such treats this year - thanks to twitter friend Adele Geras I've just found Ruth Thomas's lovely new novel The Snow and the Works on the Northern Line, read by Ell Potter, which promises to be a highlight. 

Julie