On the eve of his coming of age, a young Lord begins to see the truth of his parents' lives: his mother cannot buy her way into society no matter how hard he tries, and his father is being ruined by her continued attempts. The young Lord then travels to his home in Ireland, encountering adventure on the way, and discovers that the native residents are being exploited in his father's absence.

Lord Glenthorn is bored and lacking oomph. But before you feel sorry for him, it is worth knowing that he has a pile of money, a grand title, estates in England and Ireland and no stress. That is until he finds out he is not Lord Glenthorn, the Anglo-Irish earl. He is in fact the peasant Christy O'Donoghoe, which is a fly in the ointment for his efforts to provide for the woman he loves. At the same time, he gets caught up in the violent Irish Rebellion of 1798. Can he shake off the ennui, become a self-made man and win the hand of his love? Those who enjoy Jane Austen's novels, including 'Persuasion', 'Sense and Sensibility', and 'Pride and Prejudice', will love 'Ennui'. Like Austen, Maria Edgeworth has a gift for gently exposing the hypocrisy and accidental comedy of Britain's 19th century upper-middle class. First published in 1809, 'Ennui' is a didactic novel, which means it aims to teach the reader a moral lesson - like 'Aesop's Fables'. The Irish writer Maria Edgeworth (1768-1849) was highly regarded in her day as a pioneer of early 19th century fiction and children's literature. A friend of the novelist Sir Walter Scott ('Ivanhoe', 'Rob Roy'), she was active and vocal about political and estate reform. Today, she is rather underappreciated - and overshadowed - by other 19th century satirical novelists like Jane Austen and Anthony Trollope. A prolific writer, Edgeworth's best-known works include 'Ennui', 'The Dun' and 'Belinda', which was controversial in its day for featuring inter-racial marriage.

An extraordinary story of Anant Khare who appeared to be an ordinary drawing teacher, living and working near Pune at the turn of the century. He decided that his contribution to the nationalist movement would be to educate his daughters to the highest level. By the 1920s, his daughters were independent, single career women at a time when their peers had been married off at the age of ten. His wife too was running a flourishing dairy. Yet Kharemaster felt inadequate beside his educated daughters and sons, all adept in a world seemingly out of his reach. Writing about her father at the age of 88, his daughter Balutai, using her penname 'Vibhavari Shirurkar', is as unflinchingly honest about herself as she is about her father.