'One or Two' by H.D. Everett
'Her aspirations must of necessity be ridiculous, her very woes become comic, and all because of that fifty or sixty pounds of unnecessary flesh.'—Review #258
I struggle with my weight, as many people do. I am wrestling with it as I write this newsletter, in fact, because I need to drop a few pounds to fit into the suit pants I hope to wear to a wedding next week. I hadn’t owned a suit for years, because I feel I look awful in them, and I dread the humiliation of trying them on at a store or, even worse, being told the store does not carry my size. I recently ordered a suit online because a) this wedding was coming up, and b) I know I really should have one in my closet. I took it out of the box and tried it on. Donna said the jacket looked nice on me, but I couldn’t button the pants. Panic. Should I crash diet? Back out of the festivities? I went to the menswear store’s brick-and-mortar location hoping to buy larger pants, but, as you can guess, they don’t carry that size. It’s now being shipped, and fingers-crossed it gets here on time, or I’ll have to mix and match the jacket with some slacks from when I was heavier and hope I don’t look like a mess. I tell you this long horror story because while I was going through it, I was reading ‘One or Two’ by H.D. Everett, a wild novel that involves extreme weight loss. It’s the second book subscribers voted for me to review from the wonderful independent publishers
, who bring obscure 19th-century (give or take) books written by ‘women and weirdos’ back into print. The first Mandylion book BoG subscribers picked for me to review was ‘The Gadfly’ by Ethel Lilian Voynich, and I raved about it. ‘One or Two’ is dark and delightful, too—a twisted tale that resonated with me deeply.Here’s the book’s cover:
Frances Bethune has a problem. She’s just received word her husband Charles—who’s been off colonizing India in the British Army—is on his way home. The news throws vain and self-centered Frances into a frenzy because she’s gained considerable weight in the years since she last saw Charles. He originally was supposed to be away for another year or so, giving her time to continue her indolent and indulgent life on her family’s English countryside estate, The Mount, and also to eventually slim back down. But now she has roughly two weeks before Charles returns. Panic! What will Charles think when he sees how much she’s changed? What will he do? Her vanity can’t stand it. She needs a solution, like:
Frances sends for her friend Ursula, a widow who’s barely getting by. Frances and Ursula, who are in their late 20s/early 30s, were childhood friends who had drifted apart for several years, but then reconnected during a chance meeting at a séance (as one does). Ursula urges Frances to trust her husband’s love, but Frances won’t have it. Ursula then remembers something the medium said to her about Frances at the séance—that mysterious powers from the spirit realm could be harnessed to help her friend lose weight. Ursula tells Frances this story, thinking it ridiculous and beyond consideration. But Frances is like:
Ursula thinks pursuing this plan is a bad idea, but she’s desperate for cash and goes along with it when Frances gives her a wad of bills. Ursula is sent to London to find the medium, and, while there, she joins another séance where a spirit called Salvador is summoned. Salvador provides instructions for a mystical weight-loss rite, but also warns Ursula that thinness wrought this way comes with a cost. Upon her return to The Mount, Ursula tells Frances about the ritual—and the warning. But does Frances reconsider?
I wish I could tell you what happens, but it would wreck the surprise. Suffice it to say, the plan has intense and unexpected consequences. Bonkers even. My friends, I hate to spoil it, but I’ll give you a little hint:
In ‘One or Two,’ (Henrietta Dorothy) Everett offers a fascinating and harrowing examination of how our self-esteem and self-image issues can drive us to extremes, and she explicitly comments on how society’s rigid beauty standards, particularly about one’s weight, can compound those issues for women. Here’s a quote from page five, where the unnamed narrator asks:
Is it possible to interest the reader in a heroine who is a victim to adipose tissue?—A fat man is not so hopeless. Readers by the hundred thousand have thrilled over the villainies, have delighted in the daring, of a certain Count Fosco, perhaps the fattest serious character in Victorian fiction. But a fat woman is beyond the pale of sympathy. Her aspirations must of necessity be ridiculous, her very woes become comic, and all because of that fifty or sixty pounds of unnecessary flesh. The fat woman of fiction may serve as a devoted nurse or a passably good cook, but she is completely out of place in any situation tender or tragical: no average novel-devourer could be moved to drop a tear over her woe.
Though published more than 100 years ago, the point remains relevant today. The novel also warns about the potentially damaging consequences of quick fixes and taking the easy way out of a problem. Everett encourages us to:
‘One or Two’ reads like a product of its time—Everett’s writing can be stiff, and she occasionally veers into ethnic tropes as well as those that equate being overweight with laziness. Nevertheless, the novel is a quick and enjoyable read. A clever addition from Mandylion are footnotes included throughout the text that lead readers to a visual glossary of images that help contextualize the settings and actions of the period inhabited by Ursula and Frances. Frances is a complex character, at times unlikeable, but also someone with whom I could empathize. Who among us hasn’t wished we could alter our appearance? We all dream life will be better if we could just lose the extra weight. While we’re meant to disagree with, and even be repelled by, her actions, I completely understand her motivation. I mean, I’d love to cast a spell to fit into those pants, believe me. Alas. Instead, I’ll watch what I eat and keep an eye on the mailroom. If you’re looking for an intense and weird read, definitely check out ‘One or Two.’ I recommend it.
An opening excerpt:
It is the amiable few, and not the irascible many, who are patient when interrupted; though the urchin scholar may hail any disturbance which breaks in on his detested lessons, and perhaps the devotee does not quarrel with a summons calling him away from that dismal business of the self-inflicted scourge. Ursula Adams drew her dark brows together in the pucker of a frown, as she laid down her graving-tool, and took the dainty envelope her landlady held out, a fold of apron protecting it from the impact of a blackened finger and thumb.
‘Yes, ma’am, just come from The Mount, and the messenger seemed in a hurry. He said as how Mrs. Bethune had told him to take back word.’
The good woman fell back a step or two, and folded her hands complacently. The situation afforded her a certain satisfaction. Her cottage lodgings were cheap and small, such as suit with narrow purses; and it pleased her to have a real born lady in them, if only for once, on intimate terms with Mrs. Bethune of The Mount, which was the great house of the neighbourhood. She felt her own importance exalted when liveried servants called at her door, and sometimes a carriage and pair stopped the way in the green lane below, and Mrs. Bethune waited there for Mrs. Adams. For Mrs. Bethune was accustomed always to be driven, even the short distance between the great house and the cottage. Though still quite a young woman, walking had become irksome to her by reason of a certain misfortune—an ill that flesh is heir to, and more especially indolent flesh.
My rating:
‘One or Two’ by H.D. Everett was originally published by Brown Langham & Co. in 1907 and by Mandylion Press in 2025. 229 pages, including visual glossary. $25 at Mandylion Press.
What’s next:
Books on GIF does not solicit or accept review copies. We feature books we purchase at independent bookstores around New York City and on our travels, or were borrowed electronically from the Brooklyn Public Library.
Before you go:
ICYMI: Review #257
Read this: I stumbled across a delightful 2001 piece by Larry McMurtry in The New York Review of Books called ‘Mad About the Book’ (subscription required). It’s mostly about antiquarian book dealing, but there’s also some fun bits about newsletters. I loved McMurtry’s anecdote about his collection of dispatches from an asphalt company, and their connection to author Annie Proulx.
Read this, too: Katya Apekina writes a riveting and thoughtful piece in the Alta Journal about her evacuation from Los Angeles during the fires earlier this year.
If you enjoyed this review:
Thanks for reading, and thanks especially to Donna for editing this newsletter!
Until next time,
MPV
I added this book on my tbr a few weeks ago, when I first discovered Mandylion Press. It sounds so good and your review just proved my prediction! 😉 P.s. I find so relatable your struggle with pant sizes, cause it's something that I struggle with myself from time to time 😅 Alas, the only way to get into them is to eat well and do workouts. But...we can do it! 😎💪🏻
This book sounds fascinating and that narrator excerpt pulls zero punches! Thank you for recommending.