Sleeping Dogs

[pasted into inner cover] The witty pen of Mabel Barnes-Grundy is certain cure for "the blues." When Penelope Dingle, aged 40, finally lost patience with her scientifically and worm-absorbed sexagenarian husband, Adam, she found a ready sympathiser in Sylvia Wayne, the exasperated 25-year-old fiancee of the shell-shocked John Elverstone. They run away to Switzerland, but, after a bout each of 'flu, following upon suppressed boredom, they return home ready to forget and forgive. But they find a changed Adam and John, who -- made fit by strenuous diet and exercise -- are rushing from one "The Dansant" to another. Appalled, Penelope and Sylvia find they cannot "go the pace," and suspecting that Adam is longing for his worms, and John for his peaceful evenings, they agree to surrender what they believe to be a plot by a touching appeal for "quiet." Not until they reach the privacy of Penelope's boudoir do they smile at one another and murmur "Dear Lambs!" while downstairs Adam and John are gleefully assuring one another:" "They haven't a suspicion."

The University of Delaware Archives maintains a website on the bibliophilic history of African American writer/educator/activist Alice Dunbar Nelson called "Alice Dunbar Nelson Reads" or "The Reading History of an Early Twentieth Century Bibliophile". It's based on her journals, it's wonderful, and the 1927 edition includes -- because Alice was an omnivorous reader and no snob, Sleeping Dogs -- which she found a "Silly and Delightful Novel". So, there you have it, from a more respectable source than I could ever be!

Sleeping Dogs is classic Mabel Barnes-Grundy: funny, well-written, and sympathetic without being over-sweet. The relationship between Phoebe, 40 and fed up with her absent-minded, entomology-obsessed husband, and the younger Sylvia, chafing at being a forever fiancee, is a pleasure to read. I adore intergenerational friendships and this one acknowledges the age difference without making a thing of it -- they're best friends, not aunt and niece: they support each other and bicker with each other and I love that Penelope's voice and perspective are given equal weight to the more lissome but less determined younger Sylvia. The friendship that grows between the two abandoned men -- we follow their journey (to self-improvement) as well -- is also a lot of fun. John, Sylvia's fiance, is a veteran struggling with PTSD -- neurasthenia, as they called it -- from his experiences during the Great War. His depression is treated more lightly than it would be in a serious novel, but never dismissed, and his choosing to seek treatment is portrayed as real personal growth. Where now it would be therapy, the famous London brain specialist he consults recommends a rest/exercise cure -- including, specifically, romance-novel reading! -- to improve his physical health, and better management of stress in his professional and personal life. Which, yeah, still fair advice.

Some of the funniest parts of the book are her skewering of fads of the day -- Adam's diet of lemon juice, grated carrots, and SunMaid raisins, and frequent quoting of health guru Rennie Wragg's manual "How I Regained My Health and Youth at Sixty": "Fat is but human rust" (171) and "We dig our graves with our teeth" (149) are a hoot, as is the naked self-slapping intended to make you "tingle...all over and your blood to circulate richly and rioutously." (67) And John's purchase of an Émile Coué tract, led me to learn about that interesting and apparently, totally sincere practitioner of "self-improvement based on optimistic autosuggestion." "Every day, in every way, I'm getting better and better." John read the book "carefully and without prejudice. Then he burnt it." (99) But here are worse mantras, right? :)

Romance, since the couples are separated for most of the book, takes a backseat to friendship and to (common for vintage reads: think Williamsons) travelogue, but it works. It's fun to follow the girls through the alps -- by train, funicular, donkey, and foot. They loved Saas-Fee, in particular, and I was happy to google and see a ski site delaring it still, these hundred years later, "a cheaper, less crowded, more authentic alternative to neighboring Zermatt."

There's a bit of battle of the sexes towards the end, but it's all in love, and both sides win.

Really very much a silly delight.

Flag: One negative reference to a woman looking like she's Malay.