Denis Mackail (1892–1971)

Prelude and first year of a young couple's marriage. Quite sweet but not overwhelmingly so. I love the premise that Greenery Street is the natural habitat of newlyweds, that's part of what makes it so cute: the unending cycle of people setting up housekeeping and figuring out how to live as a family. On Greenery Street there may be rough patches and miscommunications, but never for too long. Ian and Felicity, our protagonists, may occasionally roll their eyes and say "Women!" or "Men!" but all the same they'd never want their lives any different.
I understand the author himself went from a tense family life to a very happy marriage, so his appreciation for that institution was genuine. Limited plot, but relaxing read.… (més)

I'm not sure if it's the family relationship or just the era, but knowing that this author was Angela Thirkell's brother, I could definitely feel the similarities in the writing, and so felt quickly right at home with this book.
Greenery Street is home to a bunch of little houses that are the perfect size for a newlywed couple and possibly a baby or two. Each story in this collection is devoted to one of these newlywed couples and their particular type of domestic bliss, threatened occasionally by silly, everyday, eccentric things. But all always ends well.
Highly recommend for someone in the mood for humorous vintage cuteness (1920s).… (més)

This is an oddball collection of narratives told by “Gibson,” an eccentric member of a London club who takes a shine to one of his fellow club members and begins regaling him with the most outrageous stories.
I enjoyed the stories in the first half of the book the most, as they are merely quirky, whereas in some of the later tales Gibson rather over-reaches himself and becomes quite dramatic.

Somewhat Wodehousian.
Available through Open Library/Internet Archive.

A selection of very random quotes:

I was quite a young man at the time (said Gibson), and I was on a walking tour in North Wales. I hadn’t meant to be alone, but the fellow I was to have gone with had just got engaged, or else he’d been stung by a hornet—I can’t quite remember which.
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But in vain did Messrs. Seltzer and Willcox tempt the Colonel to come out and have another drink; even the promise of unlimited Chili con carne left him adamant.
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Gracious!” said Miss Westerham. “Why, surely you can’t be as bad as all that!”
“I am,” I said sadly. “But what is wrong with you?” she asked. “How could a man as ill as you say you are beat the ship’s record for the high jump? You are making fun of me.”
“I wish that I were,” I said.
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“At last I can speak to you. At last the hideous cloud has lifted. Enid —dearest— this afternoon we tied for the second place in the egg-and-spoon race. Will you not let me carry the egg of your beauty in the spoon of my love for the rest of our two lives?”… (més)