Maeve's Times: In Her Own Words, by Maeve Binchy
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Maeve's Times: In Her Own Words, by Maeve Binchy
Best Ebook PDF Online Maeve's Times: In Her Own Words, by Maeve Binchy
Before she was a bestselling novelist, Maeve Binchy started out as a columnist for The Irish Times. Her articles—focused on the famous and the obscure alike—were filled with the warmth, wit, and keen human interest that readers would come to love in her fiction. From royal weddings to boring airplane companions, from Samuel Beckett to Margaret Thatcher, from life as a waitress to “senior moments,” Maeve’s Times gives us five decades of Binchy’s insight into a changing world—revealing her characteristic directness, laugh-out-loud humor, and unswerving gaze into the true heart of a matter.
Maeve's Times: In Her Own Words, by Maeve Binchy - Amazon Sales Rank: #37215 in Books
- Brand: Binchy, Maeve/ Snell, Gordon (INT)
- Published on: 2015-07-21
- Released on: 2015-07-21
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 8.00" h x .90" w x 5.20" l, .81 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 383 pages
Maeve's Times: In Her Own Words, by Maeve Binchy Review
“Binchy’s innate ability to find that common thread that unites us in our humanity is front and center.” —USA Today“Wonderfully clear, caring and humorous prose. . . . Maeve’s fresh voice and spirit are captured in these pieces.” —Buffalo News“Binchy’s wry, self-effacing style reminds one of a Celtic Nora Ephron. . . . [She] throws a spotlight on strong, imperfect women confronting complicated challenges.” —The Christian Science Monitor “Brimming with Binchy’s intelligence, incisive wit, straightforwardness and incomparable charm.” —Burnley Express “A brilliant anthology. . . . Maeve Binchy the journalist always had something meaningful to say, just as much so in 1964 as in 2011. . . . If you’re among the few people on this planet who have never read a Maeve Binchy book, start with Maeve’s Times. Then you’ll truly understand how the outstanding reporter formed the iconic novelist.” —Bookreporter.com “Like the best journalism, Maeve's newspaper pieces stand the test of time.” —Irish Independent “Binchy’s trademark warmth, humor, and humanity characterize this volume. . . . Record[s] an intelligent woman's perspective on a changing world, and offer[s] entertaining glimpses of biography that Binchy fans will adore." —Publishers Weekly “Delightful. . . [A] warm, down-to-earth collection . . . Fans of the author’s novels will enjoy learning more about her early life and about an earlier Ireland.” —Library Journal “This collection of Binchy’s trademark columns celebrates her unabashed delight in the human condition. . . . For the legions of fans who mourned her passing, this revelatory collection of essays brings a little of their cherished Maeve back, and then some.” —Booklist “A blithe, entertaining collection that will surely delight Binchy's many fans.” —Kirkus Reviews
About the Author Maeve Binchy is the author of numerous bestselling books, including Chestnut Street, A Week in Winter, Minding Frankie, Heart and Soul, Whitethorn Woods, Circle of Friends and Tara Road, which was an Oprah’s Book Club selection. Married to Gordon Snell, she lived in Dalkey, Ireland, until her death in 2012. www.maevebinchy.com
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Pageantry and Splendour at Westminster for the Royal Wedding
15 November 1973 The ushers were simply delighted to see me. ‘Splendid,’ they said, ‘absolutely splendid. Let’s have a little look. Oh, yes, seat number 17 this way. Super view, and just beside the telly, too. Super!’ They could have been brothers of my dearest friend, instead of members of Mark Phillips’ regiment examining the press ticket, which had cost £23. Westminster Abbey was lit up like an operating theatre; the light from the chandeliers was only like candlelight compared to the television lights. Well, since 500 million people, including the Irish, were meant to be looking in, I suppose you had to have it bright enough to see something. There was plenty to see from the top of a scaffolding over the north transept. Grace Kelly staring into space, looking like she always looked, kind of immaculate. Rainier has aged a bit oddly and looks like Marlon Brando in The Godfather. Harold Wilson, all smiles and straightening his tie, his wife looking as if she were about to compose the final poem on the occasion. Jeremy Thorpe was all giggles and jauntiness, Heath looked like a waxwork. Anthony Barber looked suitably preoccupied, as well he might, with a State-of-Emergency going on outside the Abbey doors, and Whitelaw looked as if it was his first day off in two years. There were a lot of people whose faces I thought I knew, but it was no help asking for advice on either side. The man from the Manchester Evening News seemed to be writing an extended version of War and Peace in a notebook and on my right an agency reporter was transcribing a file of cuttings. And then the royals started to arrive. We could see them on the television set – which was six inches from me – leaving Buckingham Palace in their chariots, and like characters stepping out of a film, they suddenly turned up a hundred feet below our seats. The Queen Mother looked the way she has ever looked – aged 56 and benign. The Queen looked thin and unhappy in a harsh blue outfit. Princess Margaret looked like a lighting devil with a cross face and an extraordinary hideous coat, which may have been some multi- coloured fur. But then was there ever an animal or even a selection of animals that would have been given such a coat by Nature.The Phillips’ parents looked sick with nerves; nobody in the place was hating it as much as they were. Mother Phillips nearly tore her gloves to shreds, father Phillips let his invitation fall and it struck me as odd that the groom’s parents should have had to carry an invitation at all. The son and heir stood smiling and resplendent in scarlet, dimpling and smiling, and you felt that if all else failed and he doesn’t become a brigadier or something in six months, he will have a great living in toothpaste commercials. The Dean of Westminster, who is a very civilised, cheerful sort of man, was sort of happy about it all, and so was the Archbishop of Canterbury. They beamed all round them and extracted a few return grins from the nervous-looking lot in the VIP seats. The choirboys looked suitably angelic and uncomfortable in their ruffs. One of them got his fingers caught behind his neck and had to have it released.The trumpeters were noble and rallying, and the Beefeaters were traditionally beefy. Everything was as it should be in fact, as we waited for the bride.About three seconds after the glass coach had left Buckingham Palace with Anne and her father we were all handed two pages of strictly embargoed details about the wedding dress: it would have threatened national security to have had it before, apparently. Journalists all around me were devouring it and rewriting the details of seed pearls and 1,000 threads of 20-denier silk to every inch of the garment. When she arrived at the door of the Abbey there was a bit of excitement about arranging the train and adjusting the tiara, and the bride looked as edgy as if it were the Badminton Horse Trials and she was waiting for the bell to gallop off.Up at the altar all the royals looked out as eagerly and anxiously as if they thought the Duke of Edinburgh and his only daughter might have dropped off for a pint on the way. The Queen actually smiled when they got into sight and Mark gave a matinee-idol shy, rueful smile. Princess Margaret read her programme of the wedding service as if it were the latest Agatha Christie that she had promised to finish before lunchtime.The Duke of Edinburgh went and sat beside his wife and mother- in-law and seemed to have a far greater control over his sword than did Prince Charles, who carried his as if it were an umbrella. I was waiting for half his relatives to have their legs amputated but there must have been some kind of plastic top on it because nobody seemed to be maimed or anything when they were leaving.The service went as planned and the young voices were clear and loud, as everyone remarked approvingly afterwards, no coyness or nervous stutters. There were a lot of hymns, and I saw the Queen singing her head off, but gloomily, and the Phillips parents sang, too, nervously on their side.Then off they galloped down the aisle and it was over. And do I mean over! There was no hooley in the palace or anything; the party had been on Monday night. The people who had got all dressed up went home, I suppose. The bridal couple had about nine hours of photographs, and all the people who had been camping on the street packed their spirit stoves into plastic bags and went off for lunch.It was a superbly organised show, with all the actors playing their parts perfectly, timing and all. Everyone who had a role kept to it: the Duchess of Kent looked sweet and pure English girlhood; Princess Alexandra managed to give the odd vaguely tomboyish grin which she thinks is expected. The Duke of Edinburgh and Lord Snowdon looked as self-effacing as Mark Phillips is beginning to look already. The ushers saw us out, thrilled that we had been able to get there and hoping earnestly that we had a good view of everything. The evening papers were already on the streets with early photographs. ‘The Snow White Princess!’ screamed one headline, as if the readers had expected the bride to wear scarlet jodhpurs.It was a very well-produced show, no one could deny that, but then the actors are getting slightly above Equity rates. Excerpted from Maeve’s Times by Maeve Binchy. Copyright © 2014 by Gordon Snell. Excerpted by permission of Knopf, a division of Random House LLC. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Most helpful customer reviews
45 of 46 people found the following review helpful. Maeve's times/ Maeve Binchy By JB Anyone who has enjoyed the writing of Maeve Binchy will surely want to read this collection of her newspaper articles. Her sense of humour in these short pieces is very obvious, as is her sense of the ridiculous in her fellow men and women. To me these pieces reveal the person behind the novels, it makes me wish I could have known her. A real treat, and a fitting tribute to a well-loved author.
21 of 22 people found the following review helpful. Enjoyable By Elizabeth G. Melillo "Maeve's Times" are a collection of witty reflections on day to day life - air travel, etiquette dilemmas, school outings, as an example - selected from Maeve's columns for the Irish Times. I found them enjoyable, because they contain truth, and situations we all recognise, with a wry edge.This is not a biography of Maeve, but illustrates her outlook of realism combined with humour, which flavoured the characters she depicted in the best of her books. I believe that younger readers, in particular, who do not remember when just about every newspaper contained such columns, may find it boring. The entries are similar to what someone today might include in a blog. There is no special insight or wisdom, but the reflections on the largely banal, in a fashion that highlights the humour of the situation, and is all too true, I did find to be fun.Those of us who well remember the 'regular columns which resemble today's blogs' know that, with the requirement that the author constantly turn out material, finding a topic must have been quite a task. The humour in Maeve's columns came from a sense that 'she has the courage to say what I think,' or 'her experience is similar to my own, but she managed to have a laugh despite the irritation or banality.'The title and 'blurb' can be somewhat misleading, because they give the impression that they comprise a biography. Some of the reflections may seem dated to younger readers - those of us 'of a certain age' should enjoy them with some sense of nostalgia. I've read many of Maeve's books, and found that, at their best, they are warm and have a highly accurate depiction of human nature and relationships - where those I would not place in the 'best' category are trite and 'go nowhere.' This would also be true of the columns in this collection.Some of the repetition, tolerable when one was reading columns over time, is very trying. The many occasions where she writes accounts of women having abortions, breaking up their marriages, or going on about contraceptives may have seemed timely in 1970s Ireland, but one dose is quite enough. There are other times when Maeve clearly is at her wit's end (pun intended) to try to develop a tale to tell today - and you may find yourself skipping over certain articles from sheer boredom. Weighed in the balance, there are enough witty stories to wile away some time, perhaps in a waiting room, but the boredom level on others is quite high - and Maeve's tales of female foolishness, some of which have no humour, possibly will be offensive to some today.This is a nice 'train book' or 'good read' on a rainy day.
17 of 17 people found the following review helpful. Maeve's Times By Gail Each story was just as if she was talking to the reader. I will really miss her books!! Loved it.
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