This is a small book. Hardcover, pressed paperboard, black, with an imprint of two close vertical parallel lines, then capital letters AB, then another vertical line with a lovely, wood-suggestive, well-formed clothes hanger pressed askew as if on a quickly-riffled curtain rod. The simplicity of the imprinted image on the cover suggests the feeling the title invokes; just lovely.
The dust cover is of good-lasting material. I assume it is, like the pages it protects, acid-free.
The illustration on the dust cover is well-suited to the story, implying British upper-middle class, multiple events, character impressions, comedy, classic architecture, and an upset.
On the first page of print we learn Alan Bennett, writer of this wonderful story, is a playwright and keeps busy with focused direction. At this point, I don’t know anything about Alan Bennett other than what has been given. For now, I like the mystery of the mind of the yet unknown (to me) author, and because of cover quality and book presentation, possible artist.
This particular book came in as a donation to our little used bookstore. Donations themselves are interesting because there are no new bookstores for many, many miles, and other than mass-market popular fiction that can be found in every 10th gas station or self-respecting general store, books like The Clothes They Stood Up In must have travelled for miles before crossing our threshold.
Now the title page:
Simple print, unadorned, and absolutely lovely as a precursor when followed quickly by the first line of the progression of the story, the first line being, “The Ransomes had been burgled.”
This story is not formatted like common fiction; no chapters, just a smooth trip from beginning to end, with logical progressions, and unique thoughtful characters (players?) that closer reflect reality than average fiction.
The language, though English, is more English-English than American-English, and since I already have trouble with American-English humor the lack of experience with English social situations and colloquialisms makes the humor go right over my head, meaning his impressive “humour” ability is lost on me.
Though I wasn’t involved in the jolly rollers, Bennett’s capture of psyche, especially of the protagonist and her husband, was enveloping and intriguing. This is a book of discovery, capable of impressing the reader with emotional response and an empathic vicarious experience. It was a two-day read, only because I had things that absolutely had to be done.
I would read The Clothes They Stood Up In again, and because of my reading schedule, that means a lot.
*I must say, the back cover has two items of praise for this work.
One, a great description of the contents and effort of the author, the other a blatant marketing tool directed at vacation readers.
* One more “I must say”: I wish publishers would stop putting ISBN codes on the exterior of their publications. Bar codes are a mood and beauty killer.
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