There are memorable mentions of cats though, in her fiction, like this from Ankle deep: a novel (1933) : "The chairs for the audience had fat leather seats which looked as if hundreds of cats spent their leisure in sharpening their claws on them. "
A website is maintained for information on Angela THirkell and my link specifically goes to a list of her books done in a charmingly quaint manner. I recognize the emotion that went into compiling this site: it matches what I feel for Barbara Pym, but is spent on a vastly inferior writer. One difference is that while Pym was determined to describe freshly an overlooked sublayer of society: the single professional woman with roots in the English village, Thirkell threw herself into the imaginary world of another writer-- that of the 19th century novelist, Anthony Trollope.
A website is maintained for information on Angela THirkell and my link specifically goes to a list of her books done in a charmingly quaint manner. I recognize the emotion that went into compiling this site: it matches what I feel for Barbara Pym, but is spent on a vastly inferior writer. One difference is that while Pym was determined to describe freshly an overlooked sublayer of society: the single professional woman with roots in the English village, Thirkell threw herself into the imaginary world of another writer-- that of the 19th century novelist, Anthony Trollope.
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