Alec Waugh's memory of Theodora Benson

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@theodorabenson
Alec Waugh's memory of Theodora Benson
Today is Theodora Benson’s birthday! 🎉
Before some of you say “I have never heard of Theodora Benson…”, here is a quick recap!
Theodora Benson was a popular author in her time but these days all of her books are out of print. She doesn’t even have a wiki page… 😱
The rights holder of her works is unlocatable and as a result all of her books are orphans. 😭
I was granted an orphan works licence by my government so that you can read her best stories for free on a website I created here - https://ift.tt/2nTOl8k
You can also buy some of her books here. You won’t believe how expensive some of them are though! - https://ift.tt/2BvQK2z
If I had a big stack of money, I would buy ‘Shallow Water’ in a heartbeat! The dust jacket is absolutely stunning! 😍😍😍 - https://ift.tt/2MBQBiF
#theodorabenson #readingmaterial #bookpile #bookstack #bookphotography #bookphoto #booksandflowers #flowersandbooks #oldbooks #orphanbooks #favouriteauthors #unknownauthors #femaleauthors #lostauthors #midcenturyauthors #pileofoldbooks #orphanauthors — view on Instagram https://ift.tt/2wbL0oS
It was no good being possessive about anything. The things that made the days wonderful were never material possessions that you could keep. They were flowers that unfolded and died, sky effects that passed, songs that were lost on the air, laughter that defied Fate and was forgotten. They were just moments of delight that you had very definitely, and then for ever had not. You could not get them again, but life dealt you out others. They were always waiting for you round a street corner or behind a tree. Then what of the past ones? Let them go!
Salad Days by Theodora Benson
...if the ray of sunshine business is all you're going to do in the world, it isn't good enough if you don't work at it absolutely whole -time and never fail.
Salad Days by Theodora Benson
Once or twice she ran to her room alone, flung herself upon the bed, and abandoned herself violently to a passion of sobbing that began in an agony of the soul and ended in a luxury of self pity. ... Through all the selfishness and the impotence of love she found some vision, a song, a perfume, a breath of spring. It was so infinitely worth while!
Salad Days by Theodora Benson
It seemed so odd that they could babble about these indifferent matters and laugh, ignoring thus utterly her intensely important pain. It gave her a queer feeling that she was not really there at all; they were so solid and so assured and so very far away from her that she felt herself to be a ghost that had no further part in the light of day.
Salad Days by Theodora Benson
Felicity was conscious before all things of a vast desire to be alone.
Salad Days by Theodora Benson
So I said what about prayer, because it surely couldn't be meant to alter things, and he said it was another courtesy and it did the pray-er good rather than the prayee, and that anyway surely I often wanted to give thanks? And, of course, I often do give thanks. So I think one could start doing something about religion without any conviction at all.
I guess it’s finished… You can now read the Best Stories of Theodora Benson on a website I have created - https://ift.tt/2K7MkPb (link in bio). My top 3 stories are;
The Hunter and the Tuft; a weirdly prescient yet sharply comic tale about trying to revive the career of a forgotten writer.
The White Sea Monkey; to quote the great Elizabeth Jenkins, “…not only the most terrifying story I ever read, but the most characteristic expression of her, in its agonized compassion and it’s understanding of the human race.” The Floor; a succinct kitchen sink drama. The beauty in the mundane. A crisis of miscommunication. I hope you enjoy them. If you notice any errors, let me know and I will rectify it 😊
#theodorabenson #orphanbooks #readingmaterial #femaleauthor #outofprintbooks — view on Instagram https://ift.tt/2K7WuiT
Furthermore, the window looked west, and the glow of the sunset, deepening slowly, was in itself an interruption. As she completed her second letter, she laid down her pen and gave herself up to the sky. A lurid sky, she thought, almost a melodramatic sky. The effect of cloud and colour was so vivid, so definite, that it was strange to think how soon it would be lost and for ever forgotten. One tried and tried to imprint the pattern of a sunset on one's mind, but one's memory could never hold it.
Salad Days by Theodora Benson, 1928
This book is gorgeous, I want it so much!!
John Betjeman’s review of The Undertaker’s Wife
Best stories of THEODORA BENSON
Read the story online!
Hi everyone! Just wanted to let you all know that my OWL licence for Best Stories of Theodora Benson has been APPROVED!! 😊 Now I just have to wait for my licence to arrive and then I can share her best short stories with you all! 😊
#theodorabenson #shortstories #orphanbooks #orphanworks #floweringcactus — view on Instagram https://ift.tt/2rynfoQ
Concert Pitch. Theodora Benson. New York: The Macmillan Co, 1934. First US edition. Original dust jacket; art by Peers.
“This is the story of Val Mellon, and of her husband Johnnie - a headliner in the London music halls, and of the crowd of gay, boisterous, generous-hearted vaudeville artists who play and work with them.”
She frowned at him, for she suffered at the sight of suffering.
The Undertaker's Wife