Tag: historical fiction

Book Review: The Good Liars by Anita Frank – a haunting novel where old sins cast long shadows

~ Judith ~ Leave a comment

It is interesting how claustrophobic a large country house can seem in a nicely gothic suspense novel like this. In spite of extensive grounds and views that take in woods and a river, the country house at the heart of Anita Frank’s latest novel, The Good Liars, is taut with post-war misery, its inhabitants hemmed in by events of the past.

We catch up with the Stilwell family in 1920. There’s Maurice Stilwell, who is mentally damaged by his time in the trenches. He lives at the atmospherically named Darkacre Hall with his beautiful and somewhat petulant wife, Ida, and his younger brother Leonard. There’s also Maurice’s great friend, Victor, manly and debonair, who was once in love with Ida, but with Maurice’s family money, was always going to be the losing suitor.

Unlike Maurice, Leonard is sound of mind, but a physical wreck, and this is why Sarah is taken on as his nurse, a great relief to Ida, as it has been nigh on impossible to find staff willing to stay at Darkacre Hall. It is soon clear that Ida has earned the hatred of the locals because of her actions in the early stages of the war, handing out white feathers to young men who needn’t have signed up, either because of their age or occupation. Many felt compelled to enlist and some lost their lives.

It’s a chilly, gloomy house, that Sarah has come to but being a good sort, she soon mucks in, not only helping Leonard but taking on a lot of the housekeeping. You can’t help wondering if she’s too good to be true, but she’s kindly and observant which helps the story along.

Sarah is beginning to find the dark wood that dominates the Hall horribly oppressive. The incessant panelling and ancient furniture greedily absorb all glimmers of light. Everything around her appears drab and morose. Even the silverware on the table – the candlesticks, the cruet set, the cutlery – is tarnished, and though the electric lights of the low-hanging brass candelabra above them are lit, two of the bulbs have blown, meaning that, beyond the immediate table, the features of the room are concealed in dense shadow, in which anyone – or anything – might lurk without fear of detection. She finds it a most unsettling thought.

Into this setting comes a police inspector who is looking into a cold case – the disappearance of a teenage boy in the summer of 1914. There’s been a letter apparently, and new information to suggest the boy was in the Darkacre Hall grounds when he went missing. A Sergeant Verity is sent to ask further questions, and this throws the household into a spin. Maurice becomes agitated, and Leonard even more miserable.

The reader is soon aware that there are secrets everyone is hiding, events from before and during the war that have never been accounted for. While everyone else quivers and frets, Victor, the man of action, makes a bold decision. Meanwhile Sarah has a sense that there is a ghostly presence at the Hall, which adds to the atmosphere. Can the aptly named Verity get to the bottom of things?

Anita Frank builds tension expertly, switching the point of view between characters who huddle in corners, or take drastic steps. As well as a major weather event that keeps everyone even more housebound, there are one or two surprises you probably won’t see coming. And while you get caught up in the story, desperate to know how it plays out, you’re treated to some excellent writing too.

While this may not be the cheeriest novel – the dark events of a terrible war haunt every moment for the characters, in more ways than one – it is all put together really well. I will be happy to look out for more by Anita Frank – The Good Liars is a four-star read from me.

Book Review: The House of Doors by Tan Twan Eng – an enthralling novel about love, duty and writerly inspiration

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This book was long-listed for last year’s Booker Prize, but it was the imagining of the life of W Somerset Maugham that caught my eye. At one time Maugham was a prolific and hugely successful author, often setting his books in the exotic locations he visited. The stories are peppered with unhappy marriages and scandals, and here he probably drew on his own experiences. Dozens of movies have been based on the stories, the latest I have come across being The Painted Veil starring Edward Norton and Naomi Watts (2006).

His light may have faded in the last few decades, but Tan Twan Eng has brought Maugham to life again as one of two main characters in The House of Doors, set largely in Penang, Malaysia. It’s 1921 and Lesley, the wife of Robert Hamlyn, an old friend of the writer’s, is reluctantly hosting Maugham and his secretary/lover Gerald for an extended stay. Maugham, or Willie, as he’s called here, is at the height of his popularity, but poor investments have left him in a tight spot and desperate for material for new stories. Over the days that follow, Lesley reveals her own story from a decade before.

Lesley’s story takes us back to a visit by Sun Yat Sen, Chinese revolutionary and leader of the Kuomintang (Chinese Nationalist Party), in Penang to raise funds to overthrow a despotic Chinese dynasty. Lesley gets caught up in the cause, a distraction from problems with her marriage. In the meantime her best friend Ethel Proudlock has been charged with murder for shooting an expat engineer. Both stories suggest an uncomfortable relationship between men and women, as well as between the British rule with its wider expat community and the local Chinese and indigenous populations. (The Proudlock affair inspired Maugham’s story “The Letter”, which was made into a movie starring Bette Davis.)

Lesley is an interesting character as being born and raised in Penang she speaks one or two local languages and makes an effort to understand both worlds. So she’s the best person to show Maugham around, but takes a while to warm to the writer, feeling a little unhappy with him when she makes sense of his relationship with handsome and somewhat dissipated young Gerald. With Maugham you have insight into the mind of a writer, a man with his own share of disillusionment and regret.

The silence around us, the very weave of the night itself, felt denser. Even the waves outside, fraying away the margins of land since the beginning of the world, seemed to have stilled into stone. In the hallway the weighted heart of the grandfather clock went on beating, as indifferent as an aged monk thumbing his prayer beads on their long and infinite loop.
‘Where does a story begin, Willie?’ I asked.
For a while he did not say anything. Then he shifted in his chair. ‘Where does a wave on the ocean begin?’ he said. ‘Where does it form a welt on the skin of the sea, to swell and expand and rush towards the shore?’
‘I want to tell you a story, Willie,’ I said. Yes, I thought to myself. Tell him your story. Let him write it. Let the whole world know.
The music I had just played seemed to go on unspooling in the air between us, this song that had no beginning and no ending; the song of time itself.

The novel is a story within a story, bookended again by Lesley receiving a parcel in Africa many years later. You get a sense of a carefully constructed narrative and it all works beautifully, keeping the reader guessing and enthralled. Tan Twan Eng creates a superbly atmospheric setting enhanced by gorgeous writing. There’s a love story here, more than one perhaps, but it is also an ode to Penang in the way the characters experience the lush tropical setting, the sea that seems to brim with a life of its own, the history and culture.

The House of Doors is a beautiful novel, and at only 300 pages, carries a lot of story for its word-count. It’s quite an emotional read too – love and regret, nostalgia for a place and times past. So it really packs a wallop. I loved it and want to read everything by this author, though I see I shall have to be patient as this is only his third book – his first The Gift of Rain coming out in 2007, with a big gap between his second book, The Garden of Evening Mists from 2011 and The House of Doors, from last year. Whatever the wait, it will be worth it, I’m sure. This one’s a five-star read from me.

Book Review: Lessons by Ian McEwan – an epic read in more ways than one

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Ian McEwan is usually a reliable author, one I’ve turned to before anticipating a satisfying and intelligent read. And that’s pretty much what you get with Lessons. The story follows Roland Baines from his childhood and delivery to an unusual boarding school – we’re in the late 1950s – through his schooling and into adulthood, and on to the present day. Critical to his story are the lessons he has at school with a predatory and obsessive piano teacher.

Rolande’s experiences, the grooming and sexual predation by Miriam Cornell, have an ongoing effect on his life. At first the story weaves these scenes from school with a police enquiry into the disappearance of Rolande’s wife Alissa in the 1980s. She has left a note and sent postcards from Europe, so there’s no obvious reason to suspect foul play, but DI Browne wants to be sure. Roland has been left holding the baby, literally, seven-month-old Lawrence.

The story meanders through the years bringing the past up to the time of Alissa’s vanishing and beyond and along with Roland’s story we have key moments of recent history. There’s the Cuba Missile Crisis, which is what sends Roland into a spin, cycling towards danger and Miss Cornell. There’s the fall of the Berlin Wall, another key factor in Roland’s life, the rise of New Labour and much more. Roland is a political animal and there are groups of friends around the dinner table, and lively discussions.

Throughout, Roland considers the effects of broader events in history on his path through life. It is obvious that Roland had potential to have a solid career in something, possibly even as a concert pianist. But failing at school and then bringing up a child on his own have led to a working life that is a cobbling together of hotel piano playing, occasional journalism, and tennis coaching. He’s also a terrific dad. He has relationships with other women but most of them don’t stick. Has he been ruined emotionally by Miss Cornell?

Against his chest he felt the baby’s heartbeat, just under twice the rate of his own. Their pulses fell in and out of phase, but one day they would be always out. They would never be this close. He would know him less well, then even less. Others would know Lawrence better than he did, where he was, what he was doing and saying, growing closer to this friend, then this lover. Crying sometimes, alone. From his father, occasional visits, a sincere hug, catch up on work, family, some politics, then goodbye. Until then, he knew everything about him, where he was in every minute, in every place. He was the baby’s bed and his god. The long letting go could be the essence of parenthood and from here was impossible to conceive.

And yet all in all, Roland’s has been a good life. A life rich in people, experiences and love. He hasn’t been a big achiever; he’s had to be a parent, rather like the lives of many women. So there’s a feminist message here too – not only through Roland, but in the stories of Alissa, her mother and Roland’s mother too.

Roland’s a likeable protagonist, which is just as well as we are with him throughout all the things in life that trouble everyday people. What secrets have his parents kept all these years? How will a new government affect things? Or even, are we on the brink of another world war? The tiny things as well as the broader issues. It’s a novel full of wisdom, and the gaining of it, and I suppose these are also the lessons of the title.

For quite a way through I thought nobody, and certainly not Roland, was learning any lessons. He really does seem to bumble along, reacting to things, rather than making decisive steps in any direction. But he mostly gets there in the end and there are some memorable scenes. McEwan creates these beautifully. The scenes with Miss Cornell are somewhat creepy, but affecting.

While not especially long, it’s a monumental work, and I admire Lessons hugely, but somehow it felt at times rather a slog. I think this is down to the lengthy timescale of the book and also the way it lingers on life’s more difficult moments, of life slipping away, of our mortality. You can relate to this for sure, but you long for lightness and hope. In the end I was glad to have read Lessons, but certainly glad to finish it too. So it’s a four-star read from me.

Book Review: The Mitford Affair by Marie Benedict – a novel about an extraordinary set of sisters and the politics that divided them

~ Judith ~ 1 Comment

I’ve been fascinated by the Mitfords ever since I saw a British TV adaptation of Nancy Mitford’s Love in a Cold Climate which aired in the 1980s. Nancy was a witty novelist who moved in literary circles during the 1930s and ’40s, rubbing shoulders with Evelyn Waugh and his ilk. She mined her family and the upper classes for material for her books, which are still very readable today. Nancy had five sisters and one brother, and with eccentric parents, each sibling seemed to be more extraordinary or oddball than the next.

These are the characters that people Marie Benedict’s novel The Mitford Affair, which concentrates on the years 1932 to 1941, with the rise of fascism in Europe and the opening chapters of World War II. Told from the viewpoints of sisters Nancy, Diana and Unity, you couldn’t ask for more varied characters, each with a very distinctive narrative voice. As the years pass, Nancy watches in horror as Diana goes to ever more extremes to promote the politics of her lover Oswald Mosley, and as Unity heads off to Germany to become a kind of Hitler acolyte. As war becomes inevitable, Nancy has to decide if her loyalty lies with family or her country.

As a reader, you feel very much on the side of Nancy, who seems to be the voice of reason among her sisters. She’s also dealing with a lot personally, in particular a problematic marriage and ever more desperate attempts to bear a child. Meanwhile Diana has ditched an adoring, wealthy and titled husband for a man who is already married and the voice of fascism in Britain. She devotes her energies to his cause even when Mosley declares he cannot offer her marriage or any kind of respectability.

Then there’s Unity. Always the least liked in her family – the only daughter to be sent to school so her mother didn’t have to put up with her – you get the feeling that today, Unity would be diagnosed with a mental condition, possibly as bipolar or a spectrum disorder. Much younger than Nancy or Diana, she’s only in her late teens when we meet her, her half of her bedroom festooned with pictures of Hitler and Mussolini, as opposed to Jessica who on her side of the room has etched the hammer and sickle into the window.

After the Olympia Hall rally and the violence of the Blackshirts inflicted at the slightest provocation, undoubtedly on Mosley’s orders, I could no longer even pretend to be in the same political ranks as my sisters. Did we not live in a society where free speech was guaranteed? Could Mosley not bear the slightest critique of BUF and his rule. The strutting, posturing, flag-waving, and shows of bravado I’d chuckled at privately now seem menacing rather than humorous, and I felt an urge to unmask Mosley and his dangerous army as hooligans through my writing. I also began to wonder if I could use my writing as a way to awaken my sisters from this madness.

Unity’s adoration for Hitler is like any ordinary girl’s crush on a matinee idol, but such is her fervour, that she talks her mother into sending her to a finishing school in Munich and staking out a café popular with Hitler himself. She’s a difficult character to be with, but Benedict captures her intensity with sympathy, despite her anti-semitism and support for a cruel totalitarian regime. Hers is the saddest story of the three, and you can’t help feeling that with affection from her family, and some half-decent parenting, Unity could have had a brighter future. But that’s not to be.

This is one of those books that is so much more extraordinary for being based on real events and real people. I found myself often heading to the internet for more background, and it’s all there. The Mitford Affair is an enthralling read, although not an easy one, considering what Diana and Unity were prepared to do for a political cause that would lead to such terrible events in Europe. But I couldn’t help feeling that the writing could have been sharper – there are some rather convoluted sentences, and a few Americanisms slip through now and then. As a study of how political fanaticism can take someone over, though, it does the trick. It’s a three star read from me.

Book Review: The Shadows of London by Andrew Taylor – a ripping read set during the reign of Charles II

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Andrew Taylor has had a lot of practice in the art of mystery-thriller writing. At one point in his long career he gave us the Bergerac series, which was also televised – I fondly remember watching it aeons ago with my parents. There have been numerous more series and standalone novels, and in 2009, Taylor was awarded the Diamond Dagger, the Crime Writers Association’s most prestigious award for a lifetime’s contribution to crime writing in the English language.

But in my view, he was just warming up. His latest series is one of my favourite historical mystery series – the James Marwood and Cat Lovett novels set in the years following the Great Fire of London – hence the series title: Ashes of London. The two main characters are frequently at odds with each other, but somehow their paths always cross, usually when there’s murder involved.

As you might recall, Marwood is a rising young man in the corridors of government and in The Shadows of London we catch up with him as an assistant to Lord Arlington, the King’s most trusted advisor. Cat has meanwhile been busy with her architecture business – there’s so much work to do in a city half destroyed by the Great Fire. Her latest project involves rebuilding an almshouse, but work grinds to a halt when a body is found at the site, the man’s face battered beyond recognition.

The local magistrate, Mr Rush, was previously involved in the project, but had a falling out with Cat’s client, Robert Hadgraft, and puts a hold on any work until the murder is resolved. Cat is desperate to resume work as she needs to keep her workers committed to the building work and somehow pay off her suppliers. She turns reluctantly to Marwood to see if he can persuade Arlington to intercede on her behalf. Before you know it, the two are investigating the murder, and yes, again, the unpleasantly conniving Duke of Buckingham appears on the scene.

Marwood has had run-ins with Buckingham before, in particular with the Duke’s vicious henchman, Durrell, whose distinctive appearance is noted by a witness connected to the recent murder. The story is all set for more regal intrigue and takes you to Newmarket, where the King and his court turn up for the spectacle of horse racing. But before we get there we meet Louise, a maid of honour to the Queen, left behind at Whitehall because of an ailment.

Louise is the other thread to the story – a young impoverished noblewoman, once a maid of honour to the King’s late sister. Charles II has given her a home along with one or two other French ladies-in-waiting following his sister’s death. But Louise is worried that her youthful beauty will be irresistible to the King. The Ashes of London series sheds a light on a number of the King’s characteristics, some of them endearing, but here we see him as something of a sexual predator. And Louise should be worried. On top of everything else she has as secret, a problem she’s turned to the Duke of Buckingham, of all people, to handle.

Louise thought with the cold, merciless clarity of a trapped animal that the ambassador would have made a fine preacher had he not chosen instead to be a pander.
Colbert leant even closer. He skewered her with those uncomfortable eyes. His voice hardened. ‘Kings are not like other men. They are chosen of God, and to serve them is a great blessing. To serve two would be doubly blessed. Do you agree?’
‘I seek to serve God and my king, sir,’ she said in a voice that was barely audible above the noises outside. ‘Always.’
He sat back and gave her a thin smile. ‘Of course. I had expected no less of you.’

Everything builds nicely into a thrilling well-paced story, as Marwood juggles the demands of his work with the murder investigation while his enemies close in. There’s a new love interest, and when all seems lost, help comes from a surprising direction. There’s a ton of period colour and insight into the workings of court so you know Taylor has done his homework. But also there’s the perilous situation for women of the time. Cat struggles to be taken seriously as an architect, but at least she strives to be independent. Other women, no matter what class they belong to, have little choice when it comes to their future, doing anything they can to keep a roof over their heads.

The Shadows of London is number six in the series, and I confess to feeling a lump in my throat as I turned the last page because I simply didn’t want it to end. Although it has a very good ending, and you have a feeling that Marwood and Buckingham will have more scores to settle, so there’s promise for more books. I certainly hope so – I’m sure there’s lots more to say about the era of Charles II, and loads more interesting history to mine. The Shadows of London gets five stars from me.

Book Review: The Bookbinder of Jericho by Pip Williams – a war-at-home story set among Oxford’s printing presses

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Pip William’s first novel, the inordinately successful The Dictionary of Lost Words was always going to be a tough act to follow. But when The Bookbinder of Jericho came my way I was soon swept up in Peggy’s story – the work she does at the Oxford’s Clarendon Press in the bindery’s folding room with other women. It’s a segregated working environment, the women collating the pages from the printing room, folding them ready for stitching and binding, a man’s job. Just as it’s men who are always the machine operators and compositors, mechanics and readers.

Oxford itself is also segregated along class lines. Peggy and twin sister Maude live on a canal boat, still missing their mother who died several years before. The are ‘town’, the ordinary working folk who live outside the walls that separate the academic inhabitants of Oxford – or ‘gown’. But we’re on the brink of World War I, and things are set to change.

Peggy can’t help trying to read the books they are folding; she’s smart and yearns for a higher education. Her mother was also a reader, and their canal boat is crammed with books and parts of books that didn’t made the grade, But her sister needs her, or so she thinks, and Peggy sticks by her side. Maude is a little fey, her fingers always busy folding even in her spare time, her conversation a parroting of the phrases of others. The arrival of Belgian refugees, and in particularly Lotte, a grief-stricken woman who joins them at the folding bench, shakes up Peggy’s relationship with her sister, challenging her excuses for avoiding change.

I’d been walking past Somerville all my life, imagining what it was like for the women on the other side of the wall. Now, here I was, a little bit of Jericho littering an Oxford quad. I remembered when I first thought of being one of them – I’d been listening when I shouldn’t have been. She’d be well suited to the Oxford High School, my teacher had said. I know that, Ma had replied, but she won’t leave Maude. My teacher persisted. I think she’s bright enough for college. Ma sighed, It’s not always enough, though, is it? I’d thought of the income I could start earning at the Press, the difference it would make. I’d stopped listening

Other characters breeze through the book and rock Peggy’s world. There’s Gwen, the upper class girl she meets when the two volunteer to read to wounded soldiers. Gwen is ‘gown’, but finds Peggy’s world fascinating. Peggy can’t be sure if her friendship’s genuine or is she just a pet project? Then there’s Bastiaan, the badly scarred Belgian soldier Peggy is drawn to during her hospital visits. He would definitely be ‘gown’ if he were at home, studying architecture, but war has a levelling effect and the two meet as equals.

Tilda is the girls’ mother’s great friend, a flamboyant actress who becomes a VAD at the front, her letters revealing the horrific realities of life in the field hospital at Etaples. There’s Rosie in the canal boat ‘next door’, whose son Jack marches off to war with so many of the boys from the Press. We also momentarily meet Vera Brittain (Testament of Youth) when Peggy attends a function for the refugees at Somerville – the women’s college Peggy eyes with longing.

As Peggy’s views of things are challenged by her new acquaintances, the war grinds on, news of horrific battles and casualty lists filtering back to Oxford. The book is divided into parts which roughly equate to a year in the war, and a book from the presses. In the background there’s another battle going on – the battle for women’s rights, the suffrage movement on hold for the duration. This enlivens the conversations Peggy has with Gwen, but it’s hard for Peggy not to feel bitter. The vote for women when it comes will only be for women over thirty and landowning ones at that – the vote by no means universal.

As the plot goes, The Bookbinder of Jericho isn’t exactly riveting reading. Like Peggy’s life, all the action seems to be happening to someone else, somewhere else. Peggy seems to be in a kind of holding pen, waiting. As a reader I found myself waiting too. What makes the book interesting is the world Pip Williams has created. The little enclave in the printing presses of Oxford is well researched and described in detail. Lovingly so. Then there’s Peggy and Maude’s canal boat and life on the water. Everything tucked into corners to make the most of the space. The frugality of their world – apart from paper, which is everywhere.

So The Bookbinder of Jericho gets top marks for characterisation and world building, for bringing history to life. But I did find myself rushing through it to get to ‘the good bits’ rather than savouring it. There’s still a lot to like and even more to think about so I’ll probably read this author again. This novel’s gets three and a half out of five stars from me.

Book Review: No Life for a Lady by Hannah Dolby – a light and humorous adventure

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This novel was a breath of fresh air, a lively read that was a welcome pick-me-up without challenging the brain cells too much. Part rom-com, part mystery with a little comedy of manners thrown in, No Life for a Lady follows Violet Hamilton who lives with her father in the English seaside town of Hastings.

We’re in the final years of the 19th century, and at 28, Violet should be happily married off by now, according to her respectable banker dad. But Violet is determined never to marry, her parents own marriage having been somewhat less than blissful. So much so that a decade ago, Violet’s beautiful mother Lily disappeared. She’d just popped out to visit friends one evening and never returned.

Lily’s disappearance might have been an accidental drowning as she was last seen on the pier. Had she fallen into the sea and been washed away? That certainly seems to be a possible theory and the one Mr Hamilton propounds to Violet, all the better for her to put her mother behind her and move on with her life. But Violet feels she would know if her mother had died, and thinks she could be out there somewhere, maybe even needing help.

When Violet decides to hire a detective, she sets in motion a chain of unforeseen events that spell disaster on one hand, but also push Violet to becoming a sleuth herself. Frank Knight is the only detective in town and eagerly takes on her case. But Violet is unimpressed with his lack of professionalism, and his assumptions about Lily seem set to defame her rather than save her.

The disappointments of the decade had been compounded by the realisation it was almost impossible for a lady to take up a respectable profession. I had been set on the idea, but now my attic was filled with the skeletons of half-finished hats, faded botanical specimens and, most tragic of all, dusty portraits of a few worthy occupants of the town. This last career had ended abruptly when I persuaded the wife of the town mayor to pose for a portrait. I had faithfully included all three of her chins, upon which she told me she had only sat for me out of sympathy, forbade me to continue as an artist and left, chins wobbling in fury.

Violet finds an old newspaper which leads her to Benjamin Blackthorn, a reluctant detective who has given up the trade in favour of selling furniture in the old, slightly seedy part of town. While he is the opposite of Knight in every way, Benjamin refuses to take on her case, but Violet wears him down enough to allow her to help with one or two cases that require a woman’s touch. Violet is more enthusiastic than subtle at the outset, which leads to some hilarious confrontations.

Dolby’s manuscript for the book was the runner-up in the Comedy Women in Print awards, and there are plenty of fun scenes, the writing’s witty, but there’s plenty to think about too. There are issues around the constraints placed on women in the era, of class and the lack of choice when it comes to making a living: marriage, servitude or prostitution seem to be the main options for women. Add to that the resigned tedium of being stuck in an unhappy marriage; the ignominy of divorce.

Packed with an assortment of quaint and humorous characters, the story builds to a dramatic conclusion involving surprising revelations and a fair amount of danger. For a young lady of her time, Violet has to step outside the norm of proper behaviour but finds allies in surprising places. The ending leaves us with possibilities for a sequel, perhaps more cases for Violet to solve. I shall certainly be keen to read more of Violet’s adventures. No Life for a Lady gets four out of five stars from me.

Book Review: The Murder of Mr Wickham by Claudia Gray – a cosy mystery that brings back the characters of Jane Austen

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You may have noticed there’s quite a collection of novels based on one or other of the six completed novels of Jane Austen. I have read a few and enjoyed them greatly. But Claudia Gray takes this genre to a new level with her delightful mystery, The Murder of Mr. Wickham.

Honestly, if anyone in Jane Austen’s ouevre deserved to be bumped off it is surely George Wickham. He’s that rascal that threatened to ruin Lydia Bennett in Pride and Prejudice, as well as spoiling the marriage prospects of her sisters. He’d almost ruined Darcy’s sister as well. In Claudia Gray’s novel, we catch up with Wickham at a house party, not at Pemberley, the seat of the Darcies, but at Donwell Abbey, the home of Mr Knightly and his wife, Emma, from that other Jane Austen novel.

Guests at the house party include Mr Knightly’s old friend Fitzwilliam Darcy, his wife Elizabeth and their son Jonathan, a handsome but socially awkward young man of around twenty. Then there’s cousin Edmund Bertram and his wife Fanny (from Mansfield Park) as well as the Wentworths, Frederick and Anne (from Persuasion) who were renting Emma’s childhood home when a staircase collapsed and urgent repairs required.

Also joining the guest-list are the Brandons, Colonel Brandon that is and his young wife Marianne (from Sense and Sensibility). That just leaves Northanger Abbey, which is represented by seventeen-year-old Juliet Tilney, the daughter of Henry Tilney and Catherine, now a novelist who Emma admires. Emma has taken a shine to Juliet and invited her so that the girl can see new people and a change of scenery. With Jonathan Darcy staying, here’s also a hint of Emma’s propensity to match-make.

So you can see that Claudia Gray has really pushed the boat at to draw on all six novels for inspiration and does a terrific job, throwing Austen’s characters together and seeing what happens.

There’s already a tense atmosphere as Mr Knightly is troubled by the financial losses his younger brother has incurred due to a venture masterminded by none other than George Wickham. The same venture has also caught out Captain Wentworth, losing him a chunk of the money that he won as prizes as a naval officer in the war with Napoleon. It was this money that enabled him to hold his head high against the snobbery of Anne’s family. But without it, he fears he’s let Anne down and they may need to return to sea.

Since Pride and Prejudice George Wickham has had a further twenty plus years to cause misery to the Darcies, and more crimes come out of the woodwork when the bounder turns up at Donwell Abbey to call in some debts. It’s the middle of a stormy night when the murder takes place, the guests all restless and anxious for various reasons.

The only two characters who don’t make the suspects list are young Juliet, who had never met the victim before her visit, and Jonathan Darcy, who spent the night calming his horse in the stables when the storm was at its most severe. They never would have thought of investigating the crime themselves if it hadn’t been for the magistrate of the district, Frank Churchill (remember him from Emma?), who assumes the killer must be among the Donwell staff, or passing “gypsies”. Juliet, in particular, is appalled at the idea of someone going to the gallows unjustly.

The two team up, secretly sharing their findings at midnight in the billiard room, and Jonathan finds it so much easier to talk to Juliet than he might have otherwise, now there’s something practical to talk about. The story has plenty of pace and builds to an unexpected resolution as more and more secrets are revealed. In the crucible of a murder investigation, relationships are tested and new understandings emerge.

I enjoyed The Murder of Mr. Wickham immensely, which has all the wit of an Austen novel, Claudia Gray bringing the characters to life beautifully. The good news is this is the first in what looks like a new series featuring Juliet and Jonathan as unlikely but very appealing sleuths. I’m giving it four and a half stars – the audiobook version is narrated with aplomb by Billie Fulford-Brown – and am keen to see what happens in The Late Mrs Willoughby, which is Book No. 2.

Book Review: Other Women by Emma Flint – a compelling crime story based on true events

~ Judith ~ Leave a comment

I really had no idea what to expect from this novel when I picked it up – the description on the cover – “A husband, a wife, a lover. Each has a secret they’d kill to protect” is more beguiling than informative. Which is a bit of clever marketing probably. But it doesn’t really matter as I was soon caught up in the story which is told from the perspectives of two women.

First we have Bea, who is a working woman in the 1920s, living in a ladies’ club in Bloomsbury. She’s good at her office job and has worked her way up to have some responsibility. At thirty-seven, she feels she’s missed out on marriage and a family, but is happy with her life. She is independent and can afford to treat herself now and then. Her life is sharply compared with that of her somewhat self-satisfied sister Jane, who has married well and is a little sneering of her sister’s London lifestyle.

But at work, everything changes when a new salesman joins the team, the handsome and very charming Tom Ryan. The other girls gossip and flirt with Tom, while Bea keeps her head down and tries to ignore him. But she can’t deny the power of his personality. We follow the affair that develops, how Tom singles out Bea; their shared love of literature and self-improvement. Bea discovers another side to her that she’d mostly ignored, her capacity to love and be loved.

The story interweaves Bea’s story with that of Kate some months later as Kate deals with her husband’s arrest and the court case that follows. She is repeatedly questioned by the police about particular dates and the whereabouts of Tom, while trying to maintain a home for her daughter, and a veneer of respectability. She worries that her landlady will loose patience and they’ll be out on the streets.

I am his wife.
I am only his wife.
This is all I know how to say. To the policemen who come to the house, who take me to the police station, who ask me questions, I say over and over, ‘I don’t understand. I am only his wife.’
And they both look at me – the fat one with the moustache and the thin one with the coarse ginger hair – they look at me as though I am a child they are disappointed in.

Kate is also employed by Morley’s in the office, but at another branch. She needs her work to keep her small family afloat but how to do this with all the police activity, the newspaper interest. Kindly policeman, Inspector Wilde, is a quietly probing interrogator, patient and biding his time.

The court case that develops is based on true events. Emma Flint captures the fascination it engenders in the press and those who crowd onto the the public benches, the prejudices against the victim and the sympathy for the plaintiff. How the case unfolds is a brilliant piece of story-telling, particularly Kate’s role in the revelation of what happened, her feelings as a wife and mother balanced against her need to do the right thing.

Other Women is a haunting novel that brings to life the characters of two women who have been connected by a terrible event. It captures the post-war years and a time when Britain was still recovering from the tragic loss of a so many young men, and what this meant for women in the years following. The writing is exquisite – very atmospheric, evocative and empathetic.

As I began to read the early chapters, I wasn’t sure whether I was going to enjoy Other Women, but Emma Flint makes it all so compelling and believable and I know the novel will haunt me for days and weeks to come. Flint’s a master storyteller and writes with conviction and power. Her earlier book, Little Deaths picked up quite a few nominations for book prizes, and I imagine Other Women might well do the same. It gets four and a half stars from me.

Book Review: Mr Churchill’s Secretary by Susan Elia MacNeal – a light but lively WWII mystery

~ Judith ~ 1 Comment

This novel is the first in a wartime mystery series that features American-raised Maggie Hope, a young woman with a formidable brain. Which is how it should be. I like a brainy female sleuth. You know she’s going to have to figure things out rather than stumble around, picking up clues by accident.

Maggie has moved to London not so long ago. She was supposed to sell her grandmother’s house and then settle back into her studies in mathematics, taking up her place at an American university. She graduated top of her class and academic expectations are high. But along comes a war, World War II, that is, and Maggie wants to do her bit. She loves London and decides to apply for an under secretary position in the prime minister’s office. She doesn’t get it, of course. She’s a girl and they only take men, but when her friend, David suggests she try for a job as the PM’s secretary, she reluctantly gives it a go.

Maggie is desperate to use her maths brain, but at Number 10, she’s thrown by Churchill’s odd habits and cryptic commands, while being urged to keep her head down and do what she’s told by her superiors. Fortunately she has a cheery group of friends to hang out with, including her flatmates: Paige, an old classmate from America’s Deep South and hearty, Irish Chuck plus a pair of scatty twin sisters. David, is always dropping by. His life has always been a little risky as he’s gay when you weren’t really allowed to be so what’s a little war in the general scheme of things? He keeps everyone’s spirits up but his best friend John is moody and somewhat awkward around Maggie.

The story switches to that of Claire who is visiting the Saturday Club, a group of Nazi sympathisers, and Michael, who is letting off bombs around the place for Ireland. While the narrative builds towards a plot agains the PM, Maggie has questions about her parentage. There’s something her guardian, Aunt Emily, is not telling her. When she goes to find her parents’ graves, her mother is there for all to see, but her father’s grave is missing.

Things get more complicated with codes appearing in mysterious places and a visit to Bletchley Park, while pretty much everyone among the cast of characters is in danger from something. Whether it’s the bombs raining down on London, or Nazi sympathisers determined not to have their plans foiled, Maggie’s life has just got a lot more perilous. Things go down to the wire for Maggie, the PM and an iconic building in London, but luckily there’s Maggie’s amazing brain to save the day.

Anyone imagining this series to be ideal for fans of Jacqueline Winspear’s Maisie Dobbs, might want to reconsider. I think they are quite different beasts. The Winspear books reveal a lot about the war, and recent history, often taking a little understood aspect and making it the basis of a story. Her characters are really put through the ringer and there’s a strong emotional charge.

The Maggie Hope books would seem to be a more imaginative bunch of stories and are quite a lot lighter in tone. There’s lots of dancing in nightclubs, romance and general socialising, more about the music of the time, what people were wearing which adds colour and sets the scene. I shall probably continue with the series, but my reasons for picking up a Maggie Hope book will be for a lighter kind of entertainment. Mr Churchill’s Secretary gets three stars from me.