Enter Amelia Bingham is probably the most unusual book to appear this year. Written over a decade ago, but mired in publishing difficulties, it has finally appeared.
To call it a “lesbian book” is not really fair. It is nothing so vulgar. While it is set in an all-female sub-culture, explicit “sex” never rears its ugly head. The book is far too elegant for that and it is questionable whether it is even implicit except to the coarse post-Freudian mind
Despite what some would think a curious ambience, the book is utterly scathing about all the ills of the modern world. It is pro-femininity to a degree that is vitually unheard of even in conservative circles. Its scorn and disdain for the post-60s world is total. Unlike most “conservative” writing, it does not condemn liberalism in its own terms or speak the language of the mass-media. It speaks from outside it all; from a pinnacle of lofty contempt.
I have included a few sample quotations. Find out more about the book here:
or browse inside it here:
Above anyone I had ever known, I regarded Amelia Bingham as truly great. If it be greatness to be born into a world that despises everything you stand for and stands for everything you despise; to refuse to give an inch, but to fight that world for the right to be yourself and to emerge gloriously triumphant â€” if that be greatness, then Amelia Bingham must be numbered among the truly great.
“you can hardly have been unaware of the financial difficulties in which my family found itself.â€
â€œEstate duties, I believe,â€ said Amelia.
â€œExactly. Those malicious taxes which are levied with no other purpose than to break and destroy the great houses of these islands. Robbery one can understand, Miss Bingham, and perhaps even forgive. It is after all, only the last extension of that greed and folly common to us all. But systematic extortion and vandalism, relentlessly pursued, with no motive other than venomous envy, or worse, and with no aim other than the destruction and despoliation of all that is noble and beautiful: what can one say of that?
As Amelia had said, a good lunch, good conversation and good wine soon washed away the distastefulness of that interview, and I felt quite ready to see my frock. I must say that those preparations were hardly necessary, for as soon as I did see it, everything else was swept from my mind. It was beautiful. In delicate shades of pink and blue, it looked like something from a fairy tale. The bodice fitted my form exactly (I was glad of the corset), and the skirt swelled out from my tightened waist with regal magnificence. It made me feel infinitely tall, yet infinitely delicate. I was filled at once with the most fragile femininity and the most imperious majesty, and felt that the two were one. I suppose there must be other things than crinolines which give one such a feeling, but certainly none of them exist in the modern world. It seemed to me strange that in an age which yearns so greedily for every possible sensation, the majority of women will never experience the sensation of wearing a crinoline.
But then again, perhaps the sensation would not exist for them. Over-stimulated by the crude and massive sensual assaults of modern music and the modern mass-media, perhaps most modern people would find their senses too dulled for such exquisite sensations as these. I am lucky enough to have been blessed with an unusually sensitive nature, and the last week, in many ways the last few months, have, I now realise, been gently raising me to a new kind of sensitivity: the sensitivity so richly valued by Amelia and Miss Findlay. Much of what Miss Findlay had said about Miss Duncan now somehow struck me with greater force. How, if one wishes to savour the true perfume of life, one must weed and tend the garden of oneâ€™s soul, and how, if one grasps greedily and clumsily for sensation, oneâ€™s hands close upon dust and ashes.
â€œI think she is the most unconventional person I have ever met.â€
â€œI should think she is the only unconventional person you have ever met.â€
â€œI have always thought you a little unconventional, Amelia.â€
â€œThank you, but it is not so. I behave conventionally in an unconventional world. Actually it is impossible to be unconventional in an unconventional world, just as it is impossible to provide light relief in a comedy. Trixilee is unconventional in a conventional world. The formality of this dance, say, or of the Guides is the life-blood of Trixileeâ€™s genius. She thrives upon it. A formal world enjoys the delights of both formality and eccentricity. An informal world enjoys neither.â€