I Capture the Castle

This is a lovely, lovely book, and it has every ounce of the charm for which it gets praised, but what struck me is the acute sadness that seems to underlie it all. I wonder if I would give it such weight if I'd read it when younger, since a lot of it is quite comic, but it seems to me there's quite a serious grown-up novel quite close to the surface of the charming, amusing romance, and its dogged and wholly admirable refusal to tie things up neatly is merely the most obvious sign. The death of Cassandra's mother, the monstrous egotism and violent temper of her father, for which she never once properly upbraids him even in the privacy of her own thoughts - but locking him in the tower is a kind of justice and the long overdue kick in show more the pants, so she and Thomas punish him without poisoning themselves with a trace of bitterness, and in a sense, that's what keeps the book so charming and Cassandra so innocent, in spite of everything: the complete absence of bitterness - not to mention the tangled Jacob's ladder of love that causes so much pain. Cassandra's voice at first is so sweet and innocent, but that gets undercut quite early on when she overhears herself being described as 'consciously naive' and thereafter her voice becomes considerably less arch. She is, after all, a child becoming a woman and at the end is left in an adult's dilemma, and as teenagers may not realise, but hopefully most adults are aware, many of those never get truly resolved. show less

Teenage Cassandra writes in her diary like a typical girl. She makes observations about not-so typical situations, like the fact her family lives in poverty in a rundown English castle. Her dream is to become a famous author so to practice she recounts the lives of her family with sharp and witty commentary. As she says, "contemplation seems to be about the only luxury that costs nothing" (p 25). At the onset, the name of the game seems to be to marry off sister Rose to the highest bidder; and that man seems to be American Simon Cotton. Poor Rose cannot even find a suitable dress for dinner let alone charm her future husband over a decent meal. I Capture the Castle is more than a dating game, it is the story of society's opinion of a show more woman's place. It says something about the attitudes about feminine decorum.
One of my favorite moments was when Simon and his brother Neil spotted Rose and Cassandra in ratty fur coats. To avoid anyone seeing them in such shambles Neil pretends they are a bear and "kills" it before mother can see. How perfectly ridiculous yet, there is an air of social grace in the midst of destitution. show less

I'm using the word "delightful" a lot lately to describe the books I've liked; that's mostly because I've been in the mood to read things which would delight one these last few days. I Capture the Castle is a perfect Delightful Read: it has a young, cheerful narrator; a sense that while there are real problems in life nothing too terribly dreadful could ever happen; gemmy insights into life, family, and love which ring true; and just enough slightly zany adventures to make the book feel a lark. My only complaint is that the romance thread (which is important, but very much as part of a larger fabric) is left dangling a bit in the end. Recommended.

What a wonderful novel! Following the eccentricities and struggles of these characters in their crumbling English castle is everything -- touching, insightful, inspirational, philosophical and, in many, many scenes, hilarious. Through the viewpoint of Cassandra, telling the story in her journal, we get a great coming of age story with descriptions of the characters around her that remain as fresh today as when they were written decades ago. I was glad to be home alone to read one particular scene, because it made me roar with laughter. I am not sure I've ever had such a hearty laugh from the written word before! I may have to make reading this one an annual event.

(NB it's at least 18 months since I read this book, so... this review might be a bit flaky)

"'What did you want a lion for?' I asked. 'Oh, they were kind of cute,' he said vaguely. Then the kettle boiled and we took the tea in."

This book has one of the most famous opening lines in literature: "I write this sitting in the kitchen sink." Thus we're introduced to the zaniness that is Cassandra Mortmain's life - a creative soul dying to see the grandeur of London, to be able to spend the money their accommodation boasts of, and to escape her equally desperate older sister, "fadingly glorious stepmother Topaz" (I can't say it better than the blurb) and her depressed, stifled father. When the American heirs to the castle in which they live show more (the aforementioned expansive accommodation) turn up to claim their property, Cassandra's life is turned upside-down - and not just because she's head over heels in love.

The characters are what make this novel. Dimming beauty Topaz, slightly crazy but somehow holding the family together and keeping a roof overhead. Rose, desperate to escape the idyllic country exile, rushes into the first opportunity that presents itself, and is left plenty of time to repent. She's an unusual first child (I have a certain sympathy for the birth-order psychology which appears popular these days) but certainly is headstrong and independent. I can't figure out the Father character, but maybe that's not necessary - it's enough that he's eccentric and creatively stifled and depressed and manic all at once. The conflict underpinning the plot is brought about by his inability to generate income as a writer - one of the saddest passages in the book is when Cassandra notes that she has seen him simply re-reading detective novels after a very short period of time, because the librarian knows he isn't working and won't give him more than one or two a week.

The writing: well, Dodie Smith writes children's literature beautifully, we know that, and it's just as unblemished here.

"And the feel of the park itself was most strange and interesting - what I noticed most was its separateness; it seemed to be smiling and amiable, but somehow aloof from the miles and miles of London all around. At first I thought this was because it belonged to an older London - Victorian, eighteenth century, earlier than that. And then, as I watched the sheep peacefully nibbling the grass, it came to me that Hyde Park has never belonged to any London - that it has always been, in spirit, a stretch of the countryside; and that it thus links the Londons of all periods together most magically - by remaining for ever unchanged at the heart of the ever-changing town."

The romance is of course all tangled up and full of misunderstandings, as any book with a teenage protagonist should be. I still think that it should have turned out differently (without spoilers, but if you've read it you know what I'm thinking should have happened), but all in all perfectly satisfactory at the end.

A wonderfully beautiful book. Should be mandatory reading. It is testament to the book's depth that Mini-Me, The Book Accumulator, The No Longer At All Resident Cousin and I have all absolutely adored it. I must re-read it. show less

I heard of this book long before I managed to find a copy, and I'm glad I persisted in my search - it far surpassed my expectations. The story is pure magic - it pulls you into the world of the Mortmains and the Cottons almost instantly and, without realizing how or when it happened, you find yourself remembering an impoverished childhood in an English castle as if it were your own. Written as if it were the private diaries and shorthand writing exercises of young Cassandra Mortmain, you learn of her distant and volatile father, a writer suffering a disastrous case of writer's block, her kind but kooky stepmother, her older sister, Rose, a frustrated beauty who worries that she is condemned to a life of poverty, and Stephen, the son of show more their maid who has stayed with them in the castle as a sort of half-son, half-servant since his mother passed away, and who is desperately in love with Cassandra. When the American heirs to Scoatney Hall come to town, their fortunes - both literal and figurative - change in ways they could not have expected. The novel is a coming of age story, as well as a vivid and sympathetic portrayal of a poverty-stricken childhood and the complicated process of reconciling the joys and hardships of that childhood with a richer future (a loss of small but intense joys amid deprivation, for instance). A very beautifully told story, and a charismatic protagonist. show less

I think it worthy of note that I never felt happier in my life. Despite sorrow for father, pity for Rose, embarrassment about Stephen’s poetry and no justification for hope as regards our family’s general outlook. Perhaps it is because I have satisfied my creative urge or it may be due to the thought of eggs for tea.

I simply had to read this one after seeing so many favorable things said about it on LT. I do think it's a noteworthy entry in the coming-of-age genre. The relationship between Cassandra and her father and the general poverty of their household made me think very much of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. The goings-on between the Mortmain and Cotton families was very Austenesque. And every so often, particularly when she was show more ruminating about kisses or cherry brandy, Cassandra reminded me a little of Anne Shirley. That said, the book won't make my favorites list. There were a few places where I got lost in the forest of words, too much description and not enough action. And I disliked the ending, but that's because I'm partial to a certain kind of ending and I hold grudges too easily. show less