Across the literary pages | 11 July 2011

A long lost book of tributes to Byron has surfaced at a Church bazaar. The Guardian reports:

‘Inscribed “to the immortal and illustrious fame of Lord Byron, the first poet of the age in which he lived”, the memorial book contains accolades to the writer by famous figures of the day, from the American author Washington Irving to the Irish poet Tom Moore and future president of the US Martin Van Buren. It was placed at Byron’s family vault in Nottinghamshire where the poet’s body was buried after its return from Greece in 1824, and was filled with eulogies from more than 800 people by 1834.’

The Telegraph’s Helen Brown visits the Secret Garden.

‘It is a sun-baked afternoon deep in the Kentish countryside which once left Frances Hodgson Burnett feeling “flower drunk”. Hollyhocks skirt the old brick walls, lavender nods beneath the weight of drowsy bees and the ivy-wreathed archway of my childhood fantasies is just one step ahead of me. It’s a step that children have dreamed of taking for 100 years. A step into a world of friendship, mysteries and magic. A step into The Secret Garden.

Or, at least, into the kitchen garden of Great Maytham Hall, Rolvenden, which inspired Hodgson Burnett’s classic children’s novel, first published in 1911. She had moved to the old hall in the late 1890s and rented it for almost 10 years. As soon as the lease was signed, she set to work with the head gardener, ordering flowers and ripping out hedges to open up views from the terrace. “I have seen a great many places that interested me,” she wrote in a letter to her youngest son, “but Maytham I love.”’

Leo Robson reviews Amos Oz’s latest novel about dysfunctional village life in Israel (£).

‘Oz, one of the leaders of Israeli literature, has always been interested in the dynamics of community. His second novel, Elsewhere, Perhaps, took place in a kibbutz, and he has written repeatedly about Jerusalem in the final days of the British Mandate. In this spare apolitical account, he has created a village with similarities to Arad, the desert town where he has lived since 1986. But whereas Arad is a developing place, with commerce and a growing population, Tel Ilan is sparse and becoming sparser.

As well as its high death rate, there are many cases of desertion. Arieh Zelnik, who is visited by a smelly stranger in the opening pages, is left by his wife Na’ama. She writes a series of letters, which start obliquely and become more plain-spoken, explaining that her visit to San Diego is becoming a permanent stay. Arieh’s daughter, who lives in Boston, writes to discourage him from putting pressure on Na’ama. Arieh decides to move in with his mother, Rosalia, “an old lady of ninety, was deaf, very bent, and taciturn”.’