Angel (New York Review Books Classics)

Angel (New York Review Books Classics)

A darkly witty classic about literary worth, ambition, and romantic idealism set in turn-of-the-century England, with an introduction from Hilary Mantel ( Wolf Hall ) “A delicious satire on the career of schoolgirl sensation Angelica Deverell. She's a truly magnificent comic creation: petulant, paranoid and frighteningly prolific." ( The Guardian) Angelica Deverell lives above her diligent, drab mother’s grocery shop in a dreary turn-of-the-century English neighborhood, but spends her days dreaming of handsome Paradise House, where her aunt is enthroned as a maid. But in Angel’s imagination, she is the mistress of the house, a realm of lavish opulence, of evening gowns and peacocks. Then she begins to write popular novels, and this fantasy becomes her life. And now that she has tasted success, Angel has no intention of letting anyone stand in her way—except, perhaps, herself. Now back in print after 20 years, this under-recognized classic is (unlike Angel's own novels) self-aware, funny, and subtly layered. It both sharply satirizes its protagonist and acknowledges the intensity of her imagination and the rigor of her work, all the while seeing her as fully human, complicated, and even sympathetic. “With its monstrous romantic-novelist heroine Angelica Deverell, it’s a study of extravagant self-deception that’s both achingly funny and heart-wrenchingly sad.” — The Millions “Always intelligent, often subversive and never dull, Elizabeth Taylor is the thinking person’s dangerous housewife. Her sophisticated prose combines elegance, icy wit and freshness in a stimulating cocktail—the perfect toast to the quiet horror of domestic life.” —Valerie Martin “Elizabeth Taylor is finally being recognised as an important British author: an author of great subtlety, great compassion and great depth. As a reader, I have found huge pleasure in returning to Taylor’s novels and short stories many times over. As a writer I’ve returned to her too—in awe of her achievements, and trying to work out how she does it.” —Sarah Waters “Her stories remain with one, indelibly, as though they had been some turning     point in one’s own experience.”  —Elizabeth Bowen “One of the most underrated novelists of the twentieth century, Elizabeth Taylor writes with a wonderful precision and grace. Her world is totally absorbing.” —Antonia Fraser Elizabeth Taylor (1912–1975) was born into a middle class family in Berkshire, England. She held a variety of positions, including librarian and governess, before marrying a businessman in 1936. Nine years later, her first novel, At Mrs. Lippincote’s , appeared. She would go on to publish eleven more novels, including A Game of Hide and Seek (available as an NYRB Classic), four collections of short stories, and a children’s book, Mossy Trotter. Long championed by Ivy Compton-Burnett, Barbara Pym, Robert Liddell, Kingsley Amis, and Elizabeth Jane Howard, Taylor’s novels and stories have been the basis for a number of films, including Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont (2005), starring Joan Plowright, and François Ozon’s Angel (2007).  Hilary Mantel is an English novelist, short-story writer, and critic. Her novel Wolf Hall won the Man Booker Prize in 2009. ANGEL By ELIZABETH TAYLOR NEW YORK REVIEW BOOKS Copyright © 2006 Hilary Mantel All right reserved. ISBN: 978-1-59017-497-5 Chapter One "'into the vast vacuity of the empyrean,'" Miss Dawson read. "And can you tell me what 'empyrean' means?" "It means," Angel said. Her tongue moistened her lips. She glanced out of the classroom window at the sky beyond the bare trees. "It means 'the highest heavens'." "Yes, the sky," Miss Dawson said suspiciously. She handed the exercise-book to Angel, feeling baffled. The girl had a great reputation as a liar and when this strange essay had been handed in—"A Storm At Sea"—Miss Dawson had gone through it in a state of alarm, fearful lest she had read it before or ought to have read it before. She had spent an agitated evening scanning Pater and Ruskin and others. Though disdaining such ornamental prose, such crescendos and alliterations, before she would say that the piece was vulgarly over-written she hoped to find out who had written it. She had confided in the headmistress, who also felt the need for caution. She thought it a remarkable piece of writing for a girl of fifteen; if, indeed, it was by a girl of fifteen. "Has she ever done anything like it before?" "Nothing. A line or two covered with blots." "'Lightning laced and veined the sky,'" the headmistress read. "Did you look through Oscar Wilde?" "Yes, and Walter Pater." "You will have to question her. If she is making fools of us, it isn't the first time." Angel, when feeling dull, was liable to faint and had once told a story of being followed from school through the gas-lit streets on a winter's afternoon; though later, to a policeman, she confessed that she might have been mistaken. She was