Oh my goodness, why do I love chatty upper-class British society novels SO MUCH? I just kind of gulped down The Pursuit of Love and Love in a Cold Climate. Nancy Mitford was the eldest of the famous Mitford sisters and her novels, especially The Pursuit of Love, are extremely autobiographical. And extremely funny:

"Lord Fort William was thirty-nine, but he certainly looked much more. His hair seemed to be slipping off backwards, like an eiderdown in the night…"

"My dear lady Kroesig, I have only read one book in my life, and that is White Fang. It's so frightfully good I've never bothered to read another."

At the same time I was reading these novels, Telfer and I watched a good chunk of the recent BBC miniseries that was on PBS – Downton Abbey. Oh I love the upstairs/downstairs view of the English country home and all the drama! We have two episodes left and it's basically all I can think about. WHO will Lady Mary choose? And yes, I think Sybil will definitely be the most interesting sister…Sigh. So wonderful.

Confession: I am feeling guilty for not loving East of Eden. Hopefully you still like me? 

So I read A Mercy, another novel telling a very American story right on the heels of East of Eden. And it's devastating. If you have never read anything by Toni Morrison, this is a very good place to start. First, it's not that long and second, it's not quite as arresting as Beloved. Set in 1690, A Mercy tells the story of a white farmer, his wife, and the three slave women on their farm. The utter depravity of the slave trade in the New World brings nothing but destruction in the lives of the characters, particularly the women in the novel. The language is beautiful. No trickery here.

“To be given dominion over another is a hard thing; to wrest dominion over another is a wrong thing; to give dominion of yourself to another is a wicked thing.”

And the inevitable: so behind already! A 600-page novel in one week is a little much for this mama.

Okay, I know lots of you love East of Eden… Now that it's been a few days since I finished the book I am definitely feeling a little…blech. As a storyteller, Steinbeck succeeds – his modern reinterpretation of the Biblical story of Cain and Abel is more than compelling. Is there really a more conniving and evil woman in fiction than Cathy Ames? But the writing is just pure melodrama and stuffed with obvious symbolism and sweeping themes.

I am craving something leaner, more spare. Thank you, Toni Morrison.