Written in the time period shortly after WWII, Merry Hall chronicles the purchase of an 18th century red-bricked house and focuses on renovations of the adjoining gardens. By the time Merry Hall was published, Beverley Nichols had already made a name for himself as a published author. The author was a gardening fanatic and used his horticultural experiences as a backdrop for some of his non-fiction books, including this one. It must be said that Nichols spent a lot of time socializing with other wealthy elites, so he sometimes comes across as a bit of a snob. What makes this book endearing is his obvious love for gardening and the way he describes his experiences in a humorous way.

It isn't just a memoir about gardening though, as it is just as much a story about people. Nichols attempts to win over Oldsfield (the gardener who came with the 'estate') are hilarious. His verbal sparring with several neighbors is also funny, as long as one doesn't read too much into his words. This was published in the early 1950s, so sexism was more blantant. He also was a homosexual though there is nothing explicit in the book to bring your attention to that. (His longterm, live-in partner is noticeably absent from the book, at least by name.) Finally, the outdoor escapades of his cats 'One' and 'Four' are humorous and charming.

I don't think this book would appeal to everyone. If you love gardening, enjoy sarcastic humor and can get past some of the pompous attitudes, this might be the book for you. The best way I can describe it is a HGTV special about English gardens, mixed with Grumpy Old Men and Downton Abbey, with a sprinkle of The Aristocats thrown in. ( )

While this title is dated, it is a hoot.
"There are then I got a spade and transplanted the snowdrops to the copper beech. (In case you did not know it, snowdrops 'lift' best when they are in full flower, providing that you dig them up in a solid chunk of soil.) It would be to whimsical to suggest that when I set them in their new quarters, the gently bowed their heads and thanked me, like ladies of quality who have been rescued from vulgar circumstances." (p. 171)
"It is only to the gardener that Time is a friend, giving each year more that he steals." (p. 187)
"It was five years before the first plumes of the wistaria reached my bedroom window, but hte made so brave a display that I was able to train them all roundL when one drew up the blind in the morning one saw the world through a frame of blossom, and when one turned over to sleep at night the scent was what some people would call 'overpowering'. So much the better, as far as I was concerned. To be 'overpowered' by the fragrance of flowers is a most delectable form of defeat." (p. 240)

From the chapter entitled "Not for the Tough": "I always seem to be disturbing hedgehogs, and always at the wrong time of year, and I wish there were some means of assuring the hedgehogs that this conduct is inadvertent." (p. 254)

Of building a reflecting pool: "It is the sort of thing which the Daily Herald will tell you can be dug over the weekend by a not very bright child with a not very sharp spade. I need hardly say that in fact it required an army of workmen and cost the earth." p. 290

( )

While this title is dated, it is a hoot.
"There are then I got a spade and transplanted the snowdrops to the copper beech. (In case you did not know it, snowdrops 'lift' best when they are in full flower, providing that you dig them up in a solid chunk of soil.) It would be to whimsical to suggest that when I set them in their new quarters, the gently bowed their heads and thanked me, like ladies of quality who have been rescued from vulgar circumstances." (p. 171)
"It is only to the gardener that Time is a friend, giving each year more that he steals." (p. 187)
"It was five years before the first plumes of the wistaria reached my bedroom window, but hte made so brave a display that I was able to train them all roundL when one drew up the blind in the morning one saw the world through a frame of blossom, and when one turned over to sleep at night the scent was what some people would call 'overpowering'. So much the better, as far as I was concerned. To be 'overpowered' by the fragrance of flowers is a most delectable form of defeat." (p. 240)

From the chapter entitled "Not for the Tough": "I always seem to be disturbing hedgehogs, and always at the wrong time of year, and I wish there were some means of assuring the hedgehogs that this conduct is inadvertent." (p. 254)

Of building a reflecting pool: "It is the sort of thing which the Daily Herald will tell you can be dug over the weekend by a not very bright child with a not very sharp spade. I need hardly say that in fact it required an army of workmen and cost the earth." p. 290

( )

I'm no Anglophile, and I'm not 100% sure where I stand on reading abuot other people's gardens, but I loved this one. Straightforward, arch, and surprisingly sweet, an awesome garden book even for the non-winter months (which is when I think it's more traditional to read them, but so what). And it's a beautiful reprint, with an almost letterpress look and absolutely sumptuous paper stock. ( )

Read about Beverley Nichols some years back and was recently reminded of his country gardening books--so got my hands on a copy of Merry Hall. As an enthusiastic Downton Abbey fan and all things English, I'm not surprised I found Merry Hall humorous and entertaining. Well, except for the last bit about designing a water garden that wasn't my cup of tea. Or maybe I was a bit tired of Nichols' company by then. Yes, our snobbish gentleman gardener's racism and misogyny peek through, but I forgave and enjoyed my weekend stay in the Georgian country house with this Englishman, his cats and the ghost of Mr. Stebbing. ( )