Tag: historical fiction

Book Review: May We Feed the King by Rebecca Perry – a poetic and original novel from the Booker shortlist

~ Judith ~ Leave a comment

I don’t often get around to reading the entire Booker shortlist but I do like to read at least one or two before the winner is announced. This year there are several that have caught my eye, and this one looked particularly interesting. May We Feed the King is set in a palace over two time frames. Beginning with an unnamed museum curator, we follow her work bringing to life the home and world of a largely forgotten king. She takes her time dressing the rooms, which she aims to look as if someone from the period has just walked out.

We’re in the Medieval era and the work is to commemorate the 750-year anniversary of the palace. There’s a lot of research involved and the curator is devoted to getting everything just right. She has recently suffered a personal loss, and she’s a withdrawn sort of person, which at times makes the people paying her nervous. Only the archivist seems to inspire any softening of her reserve.

In this way she is not completely dissimilar to the King, the reluctant monarch, unprepared and suddenly on the throne following the death of a brother. Both his brothers seem to have taken to leadership with gusto, the eldest having a reputation for bravery and a willingness to go to war, the middle brother learning the ropes and following his advisors’ suggestions. But our new King would rather stroll through the garden, avoiding calls from his advisors to act.

We follow the King’s story which is told in snippets, often asides of what a courtier saw, what an attendant heard. Facts and the truth are hard to pinpoint, while rumour and gossip run amok. And you can hardly blame people, when the King is so reluctant to put himself forward, to make a declaration or even to present an opinion. Just one attendant seems to have earned his trust, a young man who was there when his brother died.

When the King’s shock has settled, he finds that his other feelings come into focus.

Loneliness, like a terrible cave.

His companions from before he was King, select though they were, now bow to him, and won’t turn their backs to leave a room. When he is able to receive their company in his chambers, they are stiff and uncomfortable, despite his assurances.

There are men who seek to attach themselves to power, and there are those who do not. For some, a King is the cure, and for others, he is the disease.

We feel for this king, suddenly having to do a job he has no aptitude or ambition for, as well as the curator trying to find the truth of his time. Was it really like this? How can we be sure that this or that happened as it has been portrayed? These are the thoughts that the author seems to be playing with. It’s a different kind of story that might make you rethink what you imagine when you visit a museum or heritage site or even think about history.

May We Feed the King is beautifully written in a straight-forward, elegant style that suggests thought has been given every word as well as the way the text is arranged. Dialogue is mostly revealed as reported speech. Paragraphs are separated by spaces. So it’s easy to rattle through the book quite quickly, but I felt I could easily read it again and find more to enjoy and more to think about, and with such lovely language, why not? A five-star read from me.

Book Review: My Father’s House by Joseph O’Connor – terror and courage in German occupied Rome

~ Judith ~ 3 Comments

My Father’s House has been on my radar since it was short-listed for the Walter Scott Prize. With a second book in the trilogy already out (The Ghosts of Rome) and the third (The City of Echoes) due early next year, it was high time to pick it up. I was fascinated by the story of the daring escapades of the Escape Line, the underground network of unlikely comrades, knowns as The Choir, who worked to get Allied escaped prisoners, diplomats and refugees out of Rome during the German occupation. But also just as interesting were the characters of those involved, in particular, the Vatican priest who led their mission.

The occupation began in September of 1943 led by Gestapo chief, Obersturmbannfüher Paul Hauptmann, who is under pressure from Himmler to get results. It doesn’t take long for him to notice that one particular priest, Hugh O’Flaherty, gets about a lot and has some interesting friends. Among them singer and the Irish diplomat Delia Kiernan, Jo Landini a countess, and Sir D’Arcy Osborne, a British envoy to the Vatican. It’s fascinating that the Vatican City was a safe haven, a tiny, neutral and independent state within Rome. This made it a kind of bolt-hole when a bombed and terrorised Rome became unsafe for so many escapees.

The book opens with Delia driving through the night to get one of The Choir, Major Sam Derry, to hospital when he falls dangerously ill with appendicitis. He’s dressed in a Nazi uniform, the car is struggling and there’s a curfew on. So plenty to ramp up the tension. Derry is an important cog in the wheel of their work, as an important mission looms – the Rendimento. Money accumulated by the group needs to be dispersed among the safe houses around Rome to get the escapees out before an expected clamp-down by Hauptmann in the new year. Dated for Christmas Eve, there’s an expectation that German forces will be a little thin on the ground, so a good time for the plan.

Presently Ugo would call the group to order and play the keynote on a harmonica. As the singing began, which usually happened ten or fifteen minutes after the last of us had arrived, sometimes white-faced and breathless, up the haunted steps, his practice was to systematically make his way around the table, from one of us to another, talking in whispers or showing scribbled notes on lavatory paper, which he would tear up and burn in the stove when we had memorised them. Rome was of course a nest of spies in those months; Hauptmann’s Gestapo had planted microphones widely. It was common knowledge that they had taken over the telephone exchange, that every operator was now an SS agent, every call monitored, every meeting of more than six people covertly photographed. A secured radio transmitter at Nazi Headquarters in the fashionable hotel neighbourhood had a direct channel to Hitler’s lair, the Berghof at Obersalszberg.

With Derry ill, Hugh is anxious to find a replacement for the Rendimento, and this becomes a part of the plot, leading up to the night itself. But the story is told in an unusual way, swapping between the characters of The Choir and even a bit with Hauptmann himself. Some of these appear as transcripts from BBC interviews, parts of a memoir, as well as regular narrative. It keeps things interesting and also gives insight into the lives and characters of the key players.

I also really enjoyed the dialogue. Hugh, a big-hearted man, can be blunt and witty, Delia has the charm of the Irish, D’Arcy the languid insolence of someone of his class. Then there’s the Italian candle-seller, Enzo Angelucci, who knows Rome as well as anybody and has the passion of a man whose city is under siege. Hauptmann himself is well-imagined – a ruthless narcissist – but with an ability to shake off the horrors of his day by vanishing to his bolt-hole, a lakeside house in woodland, dreaming of catching his priest.

While Joseph O’Connor admits in his author’s note that this is a novel and that he has fictionalised much of what happens to suit the story, you can tell he’s done a heap of research and knows his subject well. You get an authentic feel of what Rome was like, its cobbled streets and dark alleyways, the bomb craters and riverside. While we get a satisfying ending – a glimpse of The Choir two decades later with a This Is Your Life TV episode – there’s still a way to go with the war. So plenty more work for the Escape Line. I will very much look forward to the next two books.

My Father’s House handily suited one of the tasks in the 52 Book Club challenge – a book “inspired by the top-grossing movie the year you were born”. For me this was Spartacus (yes, I know that’s a long time ago), similarly set in Rome and also with rebels and fugitives. The book was the perfect choice for me – and a terrific five-star read.

The Eights by Joanna Miller – a immersive story of female friendship at an Oxford college in the 1920s

~ Judith ~ 3 Comments

Debut novelist Joanna Miller recreates the struggles of women to be taken seriously at Oxford in the post-WWI era. At the time, the women’s suffrage movement had won the vote for British women over 30, with some provisos. You would think a university like Oxford would be at the forefront of social movements and ideas, but sadly this is not the case for the young women at the heart of The Eights. While some professors were happy to have women in their classes, others point blank refused, or were deliberately obstructive.

The book follows four female students over the course of their first academic year. Dora, Beatrice, Otto (Ottoline) and Marianne have little in common, apart from the fact that at St Hughs, their rooms are on Corridor Eight. This is what makes the book interesting as each of them has come to study from completely different backgrounds. And that this is the first year that women can be conferred degrees at Oxford. Before that, while they were allowed to study, no degrees were awarded when they finished the same courses as men.

It’s 1920, Britain is still reeling from the war, and young, eligible men are in short supply. Which is the only reason Dora’s mother thought Oxford a good idea. Here at least there are plenty of young men and very few women. She just wants to see Dora married off to someone suitable. Dora is however grieving for her lost love, Charles, and for her brother, both lost to the trenches.

Dora’s mother is not the most sympathetic, but not as bad as Otto’s mother who doesn’t care for her daughter a bit. Otto is the oldest of the four students, comes from wealth, runs with a rather fast set, drinks a lot and is in no hurry to marry. She’s also brilliant at mathematics. Beatrice, also super bright, has mother problems too. Her mother is famous suffragette, still furiously campaigning for women’s rights and good on her for that. But poor Beatrice, tall and ungainly, struggles to win any maternal feelings from her.

Marianne has no mother at all, and has come on a scholarship. She disappears odd weekends to help her widowed, clergyman father, she says, but the reader soon knows she’s hiding a secret. We don’t find out what that is until the end of the book, but other secrets bubble to the surface for all of them, one way and another. Meanwhile there are endless rules, tests and exams and even bells. Discipline is rigid, while the young male students seem to get up to all sorts of hijinks, and drinking, seriously a no-no for the girls, is quite the done thing for the lads.

She is aware she looks ridiculous in her academic dress. Which genius decided that women should wear the floppy cap sported by students four hundred years ago? It is impossibly itchy. She has tried a jaunty angle, pulling it down around her ears or wearing it at the back of her head. Nothing works. Oddly enough Marianne, long-necked like a goose, looks as if she was born wearing one. The last few days have revealed that Marianne exhibits both empathy and a dry wit, a surprisingly appealing combination to Otto, but today Marianne seems anxious again, wringing her hands until her knuckles glow like pearls.
‘It’s just a talk, we’re not going down with the Titanic,’ Otto whispers in her ear.

Each character is nicely developed and faces her own challenges, disappointments and triumphs. They learn more than what’s on their syllabuses and the story nicely ambles along. Miller has done a lot of research and recreates the geography of Oxford with care, also peppering the book with snippets of news articles, notices and rules from the time, which give the book a nice authentic feel. While there’s some romance, it isn’t the main part of the story, which is as it should be. Our characters didn’t come to Oxford to get married off in their first year.

I found The Eights is a charming, entertaining and at times moving story and the pages whipped by. I’d be happy to find out what happens to Dora, Marianne, Beatrice and Otto next – I do hope they finish their degrees and go on to do wonderful things. Altogether this is a brilliant debut, and a four-star read from me.

Book Review: The Newer World by Sebastian Barry – life beyond the American Civil War for a man born into slavery

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Sebastian Barry is one of those writers who can create such perfect sentences you pause in your need to find out what happens next just to enjoy them again. So I was happy to throw my hat in the ring for his new book, The Newer World, when it was offered on Netgalley.

The story kind of follows on from Barry’s earlier books set in America around the time of the Civil War (Days Without End and A Thousand Moons). Characters from those books cross paths with our main character in this one – Tennyson Bouguereau, a man born into slavery. We’re in rural Tennessee, where Tennyson grows up with his twin sister Rosalee, losing his parents in one act of brutality after another. The Civil War and the end of slavery brings hope of freedom, but there are many in the area who supported the Confederate cause and don’t see the freed slaves as anymore deserving of a decent life than before.

The farm where Tennyson and Rosalee work is owned by the Magan family, who only just make a living from their land. But at least they are more kindly than other landowners. Luther Magan even allows the children to be educated and passes on a patch of land to the twins when he dies. His son Elija (Lige) however signs up for the Union during the war, which marks the Magans out among their neighbours. The war seems to bring out the worst in them, and when Tennyson defends the Magans property and his new friends (Lige has opened his home to Cole, McNulty and Winona, from the earlier books), he must leave abruptly, or risk being lynched.

So begins a tale of new beginnings and abrupt departures as Tennyson attempts to make a life for himself. A sympathetic lawyer named Briscoe helps him on his way and Tennyson makes the journey to Nashville where his singing voice lands him an opportunity to join a touring choir. A new friend, George, helps him adapt to his new life. As a reader you realise how basic a slave’s life could be as Tennyson learns about cleanliness and to dress in a suit, his old rags thrown away.

Still, it seems that whatever Tennyson learns and however much he adapts, freedom doesn’t equal acceptance in a white dominated society, and danger and injustice hover around him. But you can’t help feeling hopeful, particularly when he falls in love and is appreciated for his singing voice. Nothing is plain sailing, though, and Tennyson must make a terrible choice, between love and the obligations of friendship.

Barry does an amazing job of recreating the period and the people, his main character feels truly authentic and his struggles really tug on your heart. He’s also a witness to an America putting its colonial stamp on its land which is truly illuminating. For all he endures, he’s a survivor and by the end of the book, you can’t help but feel that there might be another story for Tennyson, and another book. I’d certainly be keen to see how his story continues. Another masterly work from Sebastian Barry, The Newer World is a five-star read from me.

The Newer World can certainly be read as a stand-alone novel and is due for publication on 10 September. With thanks to Netgalley and Faber & Faber, in return for an honest review.

Book Review: The Cromarty Library Circle by Shona MacLean – a novel about life in a Scottish town on the brink of change

~ Judith ~ 4 Comments

This book could almost be titled Love in the Time of Cholera, or possibly The Book Group if those titles hadn’t already been taken. The Cromarty Library Circle takes us to 1830 and a small coastal town in the north of Scotland, where a group of its more genteel citizens decide to start a small library, a kind of book group where each member chooses a book. These are purchased, read and passed on to the next in the circle, which also meets regularly to discuss them.

I must say I quite like the idea of this kind of book group. The circle includes the minister, Alasdair Mackay and his younger wife Rachel; the local gentry, Sir William Mackenzie, also with a younger wife, Charlotte, who is a friend of Rachel’s. There’s Janet Cameron, the hotelkeeper, and her bank-teller son Ludovic, and the spinster sisters Elspeth and Anna Rose. There’s a quaint old antiquarian and a young romantic-minded schoolteacher. The Hossacks, representing new money, are the owners of the rope works.

The story follows the problematic marriages of the Mackays, which is mostly happy, and the Mackenzies, which isn’t. We’ve got the predatory Farquhar Hossack, a thorough ne’er do well, and also medical student, making life uncomfortable for Ludovic, whom he’s bullied since childhood, and Ludovic’s sister, a young black girl brought back from a sugar plantation by Sir William. In the background, an abolitionist bill is slowly making its way through parliament, and this drives some dire predictions around future prosperity by those who have made their fortunes on the back of slavery.

Ludovic is friends with John, the schoolteacher, and Stanislaus, the clockmaker’s apprentice. Stan’s a refugee from Poland following the Russian quashing of an uprising, a former count now making his home in Cromarty. I enjoyed their discussions about the wider world – Ludovic dreaming of America, Stan dreaming of home, while John mostly seems to dream about the fine-looking ladies of the library circle.

‘But why are you not there?’
Despite the young man’s great intelligence, James often had to remind himself that Stanislas had much to learn about life in a Scottish town. He laughed. ‘Me? Because I am neither great nor good. And there are amongst the chosen ones a goodly few whose memories stretch back forty years and are not inclined to forgive what they have been so careful not to forget.’ What they would neither forgive nor forget was James’s youthful enthusiasm for the French and their revolution that had, in his younger days, drawn him to Paris itself.
‘But you have read more than those people. You have read more than anyone in this town.’
James took out his eyeglass and pointed it at Stanislas. ‘Not quite, Stan. Miller, the stonemason, has read more than anyone else in this town, and I can assure you, they haven’t invited him to join their number either.

The story is charming in its portrayal of these characters, all brought to life in a believable way, with their worries and foibles. But the issue of wealth from plantations worked by slaves casts a dark shadow. Also in the background there’s the emigration ships, preparing to take people to Canada and beyond. These are people who have lost their crofts due to the land enclosures – sheep replacing small-scale farming. Also in the harbour are the quarantine ships – an attempt to stem the spread of cholera which has been slowly creeping up the British Isles.

I loved these characters, their stories each coming to dramatic points throughout the book in a more than satisfying way. The stranglehold on people’s lives by duty and a strict social hierarchy, which I kind of expected. And also the power of the minister and his barbed comments about behaviour from the pulpit, which I hadn’t. But I’m also impressed by MacLean’s dept of research into the politics and concerns of the time which adds depth to the novel and creates an interesting world.

There is both joy and sadness in the story, and the feeling that while our characters have been through a lot by the end of the book, they have much more to face. But perhaps they are finally strong enough to weather the storms coming. The Cromarty Library Circle is a terrific historical novel and a five star read from me.

Book Review: Cold Sunset by William Boyd – Gabriel Dax returns, completing this accomplished espionage trilogy

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Gabriel’s Moon and its sequel, The Predicament, follow the career of reluctant spy, Gabriel Dax, a travel writer who has become useful to the British secret service. He’d unknowingly become involved in the movement of information thanks to his brother, and now, because of his infatuation with his handler, Faith Green, finds it difficult to extricate himself from the world of espionage.

In the third book, Cold Sunset, Gabriel can’t ignore the fact that he’s become a killer, with two deaths bugging his conscience, both self-defence, but still. Just as well he continues to see a therapist, who he’d originally contacted for help with a sleeping disorder. Now he unburdens himself quite openly about his spy work, which is troubling, and his relationship with Faith, which also raises red flags.

It’s 1964, and Boyd paints a very realistic and vivid picture of the time. There’s attention to all the details – the clothes and cars, the restaurant meals – that give you time and place without overwhelming us in period colour. We’re also very aware that we’re a couple of decades on from World War II, with social change in the air, that women can have careers, and that we are in the midst of the Cold War.

Gabriel’s trying to complete his new book, On the Beaten Track, with unusual angles to very familiar tourist attractions, a useful cover for a job for Faith in the United States. Nothing is ever quite as simple as she makes out, of course, and on his return he realises he’s in the sights of a man with a grudge – a hangover from what happened in The Predicament. The world of espionage is already encroaching, when Faith has a new assignment for him: to “exfiltrate” their double agent in Moscow.

So not long into the story, the pace is set for some nail-biting situations. Boyd also cleverly brings in characters from the previous books – Tyrone, his London friend who’s something of a fixer, or Varvara, his former Russian contact in London, a set-up designed to keep Gabriel onside with their counterparts in Moscow, and a nice little earner. It’s all meticulously plotted, as any spy novel should be. But it’s also a thoughtful examination of what life as a spy might be like – the lies Gabriel tells people, even his friends, the “kill or be killed” aspect that’s always hovering in the background.

And although Gabriel’s a flawed character – there’s his drinking and poor judgement with women just for staters – he’s also very much aware of how he’s caught in Faith Green’s web and what it’s doing to him. This gives the book an interesting psychological aspect, which along with the brilliantly crafted writing, makes the book a satisfying read.

I read Cold Sunset courtesy of Netgalley and Penguin Random House. Best read after the first two books in the trilogy, Cold Sunset is due for release on 3 September and is a four-star read from. me.

Book Review: Buckeye by Patrick Ryan – a sweeping and emotional historical read

~ Judith ~ 1 Comment

Patrick Ryan’s novel, Buckeye, haunted me for days after I finished it. The story takes us to the small town of Bonhomie, Ohio, starting off during World War II. We follow the lives of two couples, Becky and Cal Jenkins, and Margaret and Felix Salt, through the events of the war, and on to the lives of their children. Events of the twentieth century, wars certainly, but social changes too disturb their lives, but nothing compares to how they deal with events themselves.

All four of them have something that makes them different. Cal has one leg shorter than the other. This exempts him from military service, so he drifts into marriage with Becky, who has a gift. She can communicate with the dead. Astonishingly beautiful Margaret hides the secret of being abandoned as a baby at an orphanage, while Felix, who is gay, tries to lead a conventional life with her. The war shakes them all up, well and truely.

The story begins on the day victory is declared in Europe (VE Day), 1945, with a young Cal working in his father-in-law’s hardware store. He’s interrupted by the arrival of Margaret who has to know what all the commotion is all about and asks if Cal has a radio. They listen to the news together and exchange an unexpected kiss. From there we dip back into the past to discover Cal’s story and Margaret’s, each of which is tragic in its own way.

When he read, heard, and watched the news, he wondered how many people were out there doing the same thing he was—scratching their heads as they tried to figure out how to prioritize their worries and confront their prejudices; drawing their own maps with their fingers crossed.

Cal’s father Everett lives out of town, traumatised by a previous war as well as the loss of two children and his wife to illness, becoming irascible and a hoarder. I really enjoyed the character of Everett, particularly the way he writes angry letters to whichever president is in office at the time. His war service has made him fiercely against war and this theme recurs during the book as more wars upend people’s lives.

Margaret is an interesting character in that she never reveals anything about her upbringing, determined to appear ordinary – if only she knew what that looked like. And it’s hard to quietly figure that out when everyone, particularly men, see nothing but her stunning good looks. So she has secrets from Felix, who likewise hopes for a normal family life. If only the war hadn’t got in the way, he might have kept up the pretence.

Cal keeps on trying to make the best of things, dealing with a demanding father-in-law, as well as his own difficult father, who never shows him any affection. He struggles to understand his wife’s talent which puts her in demand for readings with people who have lost loved ones, some from WWI, and more when the next war rolls along. The complications of children put the characters through even more, with more secrets, but also possibilities.

Therein, she thought, lies the unbearable solitude of a lie: you’re alone when you tell it, alone when you live it, alone when you try to dismantle it.

Like many who lived through the twentieth century, the characters of Buckeye have had their lives overturned by world events. There’s trauma and the tragic losses incurred by war. The prosperous post-war period that imagined a bright future for people but with that a restrictive social order. The changing times with the Civil Rights movement, while gay rights and feminism also get a look in.

It all adds up to a gripping read and an emotional one, certainly enhanced by characters you sympathise with. And then there’s the fine writing. I shall certainly be looking out for more by this author. Buckeye is a five-star read from me.

Book Review: Love Lane by Patrick Gale – part two in the Harry Cane story

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Patrick Gale has long been a favourite author of mine, so of course I’d read A Place Called Winter when it came out in 2015. I’m pretty sure it was one of my top reads for that year. Its story was inspired by the life of the author’s own great-grandfather, a man who had left his wife and young daughter to become a farmer in the Canadian prairies. The novel, set in the early part of the 20th century, describes a secret love, the effects of the Great War and following flu epidemic on its characters, as well as the difficulties of building a life out of nothing. It’s both fascinating and moving and like all Patrick Gale’s novels, beautifully written

In Love Lane, Gale picks up Harry Cane’s story when he sells his farm and makes a visit to his long lost family in England. A kind of mythology has grown up around Harry, known as Cowboy Grandpa, his grandchildren imagining an ageing Gary Cooper. And it isn’t surprising as no one has seen him for most of half a century. His daughter Betty has been brought up by a grandmother and a bunch of formidable aunts – her mother having died when she was twelve. As a young woman engaged to Terry, she feels the urge to write to Harry out of the blue. Terry has asked about Harry and getting married seems the right time to get in touch.

So begins a correspondence that doesn’t result in a visit from either side until Harry sells his farm and, wheat prices being down, has to accept a low offer. He turns up at the Liverpool docks, a shabby elderly man with few teeth and wearing a string tie. At first Betty doesn’t know what to do with him, Terry has a stressful job as a prison governor, but she determines to look after her father. Her flighty daughter Whistle takes a shine to him and so does the dog. There’s also something about Harry which makes women want to talk to him about their problems.

Harry had never gone so long without fresh air, walking the turbulent corridors, from the acid stink of his little, wood-veneered cabin to the bottomless, empty talk of the dining room to the echoing whoops of the bar and – now that he knew the way – down the service staircase to the cosy snug on the deck below. He was having, or listening in on, conversations that left him as dizzy as an inexperienced climber on a mountainside. It gave him the curious sense that – in transit from a young world to an older one – he had stumbled onto yet another, that was altogether older and wiser than either. By the time they had passed Ireland and were nosing into the mouth of the Mersey on a dazzling April morning, he was left with the slightly panicky feeling of someone worrying they’d bought a ticket to quite the wrong place.

The story flips between the points of view of Harry and Betty, as well as Terry, whose prison is one where executions are still performed, something which is hugely stressful. Harry goes on to stay with Pip, their elder daughter, so we get her narration as well. She’s married to Mike, also in the prison service and a man with secrets. Harry is, as ever, perceptive and inspires confidences.

The author does a terrific job of capturing post-war England, still with rationing, and even though both Mike and Terry have important jobs, there’s not a lot to spare. Women of their class didn’t work after marriage, and we get a lot of societal expectations in the 1950s on wives and young mothers in a patriarchal system. It was also a difficult time to be gay, with men outed for homosexual acts given stints in Terry’s prison, among them the tailor he brings Harry to for a new suit and shirts.

But best of all are the characters. Gale has done plenty of research on the one hand, but has had a wealth of letters and diaries, as well, no doubt, as his own memories of old family stories to sift through to inspire the novel. You get to know the characters and really empathise with them, which is something I always like about any of Gale’s books, he’s such a perceptive writer, perhaps having something of his own great-grandfather’s gift.

You can read Love Lane as a stand-alone novel, but I would really also recommend starting with A Place Called Winter, which I recall as a beautifully intense and emotional read. Love Lane is a welcome return to Harry’s story, and a four-and-a-half star read from me.

Book Review: Death of a Fugitive by John Pilkington – another case for Tudor era constable Matthew Cutler

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We first met former actor turned constable Matthew Cutler in Death of a Stranger, which takes you to Spitalfields, a poor area of wider London, in the last years of Elizabeth I’s reign. In the second book, Death of a Fugitive, things aren’t going too well for Matthew – he’s just returned from his father’s funeral, and it’s a cold night, made colder by the instruction that he’s expected to attend a hanging.

Bad harvests and inflation driven by greed among the merchant class has meant poorer people are starving. Riots have led to a rounding up of rebels, and three of those involved are the young apprentices facing the death penalty. The town constables are required to be present to show they mean business. As more rebels are sought, Matthew is meant to give his all to hunt them down. But he’s soon distracted by the discovery of counterfeit coins.

There’s some relief, in that Crown Commissioners have been sent to offer money to families in need, among them an old university friend of Matthew’s, Lucas Moffett. And among the most in need of help, the Broad family, living on their wits, with young Gilly Broad himself discovered palming off a counterfeit coin. Matthew’s far more interested in finding who is making the dud currency than tracking down the rebels. He has no wish to see more angry young lads sent to the gallows, but has a battle to keep his superiors happy.

As if that isn’t enough to keep him up at night, Matthew’s also worried about his younger daughter Jane, who has been keeping secrets and meeting up with a new friend she’s reluctant to bring home. And Margery surprisingly has a suitor, which she finds more embarrassing than flattering.

The story threads weave in and out of the plot, with a murder or two spaced nicely at intervals to keep things interesting. Danger closes in and the perpetrators are suitably nasty and hard to pin down. There are enough surprises to keep you guessing and a brilliant ending. Altogether, this is a very satisfying read, and Matthew Cutler, an interesting and complex character and not just your average law enforcer. I shall be keen to check in with him again to see how his career is going, if there’s romance in the wings for him and his family, and to learn more about this little nook of British history.

Death of a Fugitive is another well-researched and immersive read from Pilkington, bringing the era to life and a four star read from me. Thanks to Netgalley and Boldwood Books for an advance copy of the novel in return for an honest review. Death of a Fugitive is due for release on 13 May.

Book Review: Precipice by Robert Harris – history unfolds in a fascinating drama involving love and war

~ Judith ~ 1 Comment

I’d not read a Robert Harris novel before, but was curious about the events Precipice describes – the indiscretion of a prime minister writing endless letters to his much younger mistress, revealing state secrets. The potential for said letters to get into the wrong hands as Britain tips into World War One.

In the author’s notes at the beginning and at the end of the book, you learn that all of the above events are quite well documented, historians have devoted entire books to the subject, and that the letters written by the prime minister as they appear in the book are authentic. My interest even more piqued, I happily plunged in.

The story begins describing the life of the Hon. Venetia Stanley, a member of a somewhat fast set known as the Coterie who live in London, enjoying the excess afforded to them by money and privilege, and amusing themselves in various daring ways. It’s the summer of 1914, and Venetia is expected to attend a boat party on the Thames, an invitation the PM, H.H Asquith begs her to cancel in favour of meeting him. He needs help with the Irish question, as he tells her in his letters. The boating trip ends in disaster, just as well Venetia cried off at the last minute, and we meet policeman, Paul Deemer.

Deemer, an invented character, is a nice contrast to the elevated world of the PM and Venetia. He’s just an ordinary sergeant at the Met, has a young brother rescued from various scrapes by a promising career in the army, while Paul having recently broken off an engagement, is not sure about his future. His parents are dead, and he’s a quiet, lonely sort, ideal for a hush-hush project with Special Branch.

Asquith writes to Venetia several times a day (postal deliveries numbered twelve a day in London at the time), the two meet at various social occasions, and go for a Friday “drive” together, where the PM shares with Venetia the burdens of his role, the decisions he is tussling with and often revealing copies of telegrams and other top secret documents. Venetia is intelligent, offers a sounding board and emotional encouragement. He’s like a politician who has made it to the top job, only to discover it’s a lot harder than he’d anticipated.

She liked him for his kindness, his cleverness, his fame and power, which he wore lightly. Her father had been a Liberal MP: she had grown up surrounded by talk of politics. Now she was probably the most well-informed woman in the country. And if she was honest, she also enjoyed the thrill of it – the secrecy, the illicitness, the risk.

In the background, as war is declared we meet lots of the key players, such as Lord Kitchener, Winston Churchill and and Lloyd George. I’ve never read such a clear account of how WWI began, nor how agonising it was for the British government to make the final decision to declare war on Germany. As the months pass, the huge confidence of those like Churchill is put to the test as troop losses start to take their toll on morale.

This is all quite fascinating, while Paul spends his days doing things he’s not comfortable about in his new role. Harris has done an amazing job in weaving in the letters with events they describe as they unfold. But anyone wanting a riveting spy novel might be disappointed. This is much more a story about three characters and their emotional journey as the world turns to chaos. And it’s well done, carrying with it a depth of research that makes everything that happens seem very real. I’ll certainly read another Robert Harris; Precipice is a four-star read from me.