First, a definition: Parnassusian (parnassus isn’t in my dictionary) — from the Greek parnasios; Parnassus, mountain in Greece sacred to Apollo and the Muses. Of or relating to poetry.

There. Now everyone’s learned something today.

This was a slim little nothing of a book, wrtitten in 1915 by Christopher Morely . But, it was totally enjoyable. I’m not sure I expected anything grand or life shattering; it wasn’t. The basic story: Helen McGill was completely content to live in the New England countryside baking bread (over 6,000 loaves, as she later calculates) and cooking meals for her brother. That is, until he decides to become “literary” and write a book. She gets increasingly put out with him and his escapades off to gather material for his books. So when Roger Mifflin stops by the farm with a wagon — the Parnassus — wanting to sell it to her brother, she up and buys it. And off starts her adventures. Which really aren’t life-shattering (though they are life-changing for her). It is amusing, though. And completely charming. I’ve been reading a lot of charming books lately, it seems. Not that there’s anything wrong with charming. It was actually quite refreshing to put down a book and think, “Now that was charming.” Maybe I wanted there to be something more — it did tie itself up quite nicely — but that’s quibbling.

Besides, I learned what a parnassus is.