The Persian Boy by Mary Renault

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First published in 1972, this is the second book in Mary Renault’s Alexander the Great trilogy, following Fire from Heaven, which I read last year. It was also the book chosen for me to read in the latest Classics Club Spin (the deadline was earlier this month, but I find that Mary Renault’s novels need a lot of concentration and shouldn’t be rushed, so I took more time to finish it).

Fire from Heaven covered Alexander’s childhood and early adult life, up to the death of his father, Philip II of Macedon, and his own accession to the throne; The Persian Boy takes us through the final seven years of his life and has a slightly different style and focus. Unlike the previous book, which was written in the third person, this one is narrated entirely by Bagoas, Alexander’s servant, friend and lover.

We first meet Bagoas as a young boy, the son of a Persian nobleman who is betrayed and killed by his enemies. Bagoas himself is captured, castrated and sold into slavery, eventually finding himself at the court of King Darius III. Having become a favourite of the king, his life is thrown into uncertainty again when Darius is defeated by the Macedonian army and Bagoas is presented to Darius’ conqueror, Alexander, as a gift. At first he is disgusted by what he sees as the barbaric ways of the Macedonians, but over time he becomes a trusted member of Alexander’s inner circle, with a close friendship and romantic relationship beginning to form between the two.

With the book being written from Bagoas’ perspective, the story has a more intimate feel than Fire from Heaven. As Bagoas is a courtier, not a soldier or a fighter, battles are seen from a distance; although he travels with Alexander and his men, Bagoas does not accompany them on the battlefield but waits in camp for them to return, sharing with us the outcome and some insights into the impact, both mental and physical, on the people involved in the battle. So although Alexander’s success as a great military leader is certainly not ignored, the focus here is more on Alexander as a human being. Through Bagoas’ eyes we see a more tender, vulnerable side of Alexander, a man who often feels lonely and isolated, so relies on Bagoas to provide love, warmth and friendship.

I do feel that because of the choice to tell this part of Alexander’s story from the perspective of someone who loved him, we get quite a one-sided view of him. It’s a very sympathetic, heroic portrayal and we don’t hear much of how his enemies viewed him or what his wife Roxane thought or felt – she is pushed completely to the sidelines of Bagoas’ account (understandably, as she tries to poison him, and he wants no more to do with her after that). Hephaistion, Alexander’s lifelong companion, also has a relatively small part in the novel as he and Bagoas mostly avoid each other, having an uneasy relationship as rivals for Alexander’s affection. Renault frequently compares Alexander and Hephaistion to Achilles and Patroclus, something they apparently publicly identified themselves with, but I felt that the emotional impact of Hephaistion’s death later in the novel was lost because of seeing so little of him, especially compared to the first book where he had a much bigger role.

One aspect of the book I found particularly interesting was seeing how both Alexander and Bagoas adapt to the differences between Greek and Persian culture. Alexander wishes to unite the Greek people with the Persian people he has conquered and as time goes by, Bagoas observes him wearing Persian dress and trying to introduce Persian customs such as prostration (which meets with strong opposition from his Macedonian men).

Although there’s obviously a limit to how much we can truly know about the world of the 4th century BC, Alexander’s life has been well documented and Renault discusses in her author’s note the sources she has used and decisions she has made. Bagoas himself only appears a few times in historical sources, but Renault is such a gifted writer she makes everything he says and does seem plausible. I’m looking forward to reading Funeral Games, the final part of the trilogy, which deals with Alexander’s death and its aftermath.

Book 10/20 of 20 Books of Summer

This is also book 6/50 from my third Classics Club list.

The Alchemist’s Secret by Clare Marchant

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The Alchemist’s Secret is the story of two women separated by four centuries but linked through one house – Woodham Hall in Suffolk. In 1672, Jeanne is living at the Hall with her older sister, Marie, and young niece, Hélène. Jeanne is still unmarried at the age of twenty-four and looks set to remain a spinster, but she doesn’t really care. She’s happy devoting her time to painting and practising her alchemy skills, and there’s no money for a dowry anyway. Marie, on the other hand, is very unhappily married; her husband, Sir Robert Woodham, is having an affair with a widowed neighbour who has given him the sons Marie has been unable to provide. Eventually, Sir Robert decides to move his mistress into the Hall and tells Marie and Jeanne he is sending them to a convent in France where they will stay for the rest of their lives.

Back in their home country – the two women had left France ten years earlier, when Marie married Sir Robert – they are determined to find a way to escape from their captivity and get back to England and Hélène. Their adventures take them to the court of the Sun King where they make some new acquaintances whom they hope can help them take revenge against Sir Robert and resume their rightful places at Woodham Hall.

Meanwhile, in 2026, we meet the current residents of Woodham Hall – Simon and his daughter, Paige, who has just returned home after the break-up of her marriage. Simon has been hiring the house out as a wedding venue but is starting to struggle financially and is in need of new ideas. Paige begins to research the history of the Hall and the Woodham family and comes across an intriguing painting which seems to depict a poisoning which took place in the house centuries earlier. But who was the artist – and, more importantly, who were the victims and why were they killed?

I liked The Alchemist’s Secret, although it’s yet another example of a book with dual timelines where most of the drama unfolds in one of them, leaving the other feeling a bit superfluous. The 17th century storyline dominates this book and I found it by far the most interesting. The plot was slightly far-fetched at times and there were moments when attitudes or actions didn’t quite ring true to the period, but otherwise I was much more absorbed in Jeanne and Marie’s story than I was in Paige’s. I loved the parts of the book set in Paris and at the Palace of Versailles (which is still under construction in 1672 – no Hall of Mirrors yet) and I thought this made a good contrast to the English country house that forms the setting for the majority of the novel.

There’s not a lot of mystery involved, as it’s obvious that the events depicted in the painting are connected to the historical storyline, but I enjoyed seeing how the characters get to that point and how things play out afterwards. I’m not sure if the title is really representative of the novel, though; alchemy is barely mentioned, although it doesn’t matter too much as the story is interesting enough even without it! This is the first book I’ve read by Clare Marchant but I’m planning to read her new one, The Curse of the Saltmarsh Girl, and am tempted to try some of her others as they all sound intriguing.

Thanks to Boldwood Books for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

The Scandalous Ladies Football Club by Frances Quinn

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Published earlier this month to coincide with the World Cup (congratulations to Spain on their win), Frances Quinn’s latest novel is set in the final years of the 19th century and inspired by the formation of the British Ladies’ Football Club. Having loved her two previous books, The Lost Passenger and That Bonesetter Woman, I was hoping for good things from this one and wasn’t disappointed. Despite not being very interested in football (soccer to my blog readers in other parts of the world!) I found this a fascinating, inspirational story.

It’s 1897 and in a world dominated by men, where husbands and fathers make all the rules, the idea of women playing football is considered ridiculous and inappropriate. But when schoolteacher Minnie Newton kicks a ball back to a group of men playing in a London park one day, she’s reminded of how much she enjoyed the game as a child. Minnie places an advertisement in the local newspaper, not sure what kind of response there’ll be, and is thrilled when she receives several replies from interested applicants. However, as the group of women gather on Saturday morning for their first session, it quickly becomes obvious that this isn’t going to be easy. Most of the women have never even watched the sport before, let alone kicked a ball – then there’s the question of what to wear (long skirts are hardly suitable) and the problem of finding somewhere to train. Eventually, though, solutions are found, and soon the club has obtained both a patron – the explorer, writer and women’s rights activist, Lady Veronica Montague – and a coach, retired male footballer Bill English.

The novel focuses on three of the lady footballers. The first is obviously Minnie herself as the club’s founder and leader. The second is Grace Mousel, a shy single woman who lives with her father and spends her days catering to his every whim. Grace discovers that she has a real talent for football but feels that she has to keep her new passion hidden from her father, as he would never understand and would insist that she give it up. Then there’s Harriet Flinders, a married woman whose husband, Richard, is stationed in India, leaving her alone in London with their two sons. Bored and dissatisfied with her marriage, Harriet decides to join Minnie’s club purely because she knows it would annoy Richard if he found out but, like Grace, she soon finds that playing football is something she enjoys both for its own sake and for the independence it gives her.

As for Minnie, we know from the beginning that she’s hiding a big secret – her real name is Adela Adams and she’s a married woman, a fact that would cause her to lose her job as a teacher if it became known. Although I felt that the false identity subplot was recycled from Quinn’s last book, The Lost Passenger, it added tension to her story just as it did to Elinor’s in that book, and we find out only gradually why Adela left her husband and changed her name and what she stands to lose if she’s caught.

Quinn has loosely based the novel on the story of the real life British Ladies’ Football Club, but doesn’t stick very closely to the facts, changing the names of the people involved and imagining matches and rivalries that the club never actually had. There are some similarities, though – the real founder of the club was Nettie Honeyball which, like Minnie Newton, was thought to be an assumed name (although Nettie’s true identity is still unconfirmed); their patron, Lady Florence Dixie, closely resembled Lady Veronica in the book (she explored Patagonia and kept a pet jaguar called Affums); and of course, both clubs, real and fictional, faced a huge amount of prejudice, scorn and ridicule.

Although I found the book very enjoyable, it’s not perfect. In particular, I wished more attention had been given to other members of the club, not just Minnie, Harriet and Grace. Some of them were barely even mentioned by name. Also, without wanting to give away spoilers, I felt that the way the story ended for two of the characters seemed very convenient and clichéd. Other than that, I loved it. It’s obviously a book with a lot to say about feminism, equality and women’s rights, but the message never gets in the way of the story. Definitely worth reading, whether or not you’re a football fan!

Thanks to Simon & Schuster UK for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Book 9/20 of 20 Books of Summer

The Kill by Émile Zola

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Translated by Brian Nelson

This is the second book in Émile Zola’s Les Rougon-Macquart cycle, if reading in order of publication. A few years ago I read the first book, The Fortune of the Rougons, which lays the foundations for the rest of the series, but each novel is also designed to stand alone. The connection between them is that each book features characters who belong to rival branches of the same family, the Rougons and the Macquarts, all descended from Adelaïde Fouque, whom we met in the first novel. The Kill, or La Curée to give it its French title, was published in 1872 and is set during the Second French Empire (1852-1870).

The Kill follows Aristide Rougon, son of Pierre Rougon from the first book, as he leaves his home in Provence and settles in Paris, where he changes his name to Aristide Saccard. It’s a good time to arrive in Paris as the city is currently undergoing huge renovations with new boulevards, parks and landmarks being created under the supervision of Baron Haussmann. Ambitious and ruthless, Aristide starts buying up properties he has discovered are targeted for demolition then claiming compensation from the city at vastly inflated levels. He’s beginning to make a fortune through this corrupt scheme when his wife becomes terminally ill. Before she has even died, Aristide is already arranging his next marriage – to Renée, a girl from a rich family who will come with a large dowry.

The marriage is not a very happy one, with both husband and wife aware that it’s not much more than a business deal. Bored, Renée begins an affair with Maxime, Aristide’s son by his first wife. Maxime is several years younger and expected to marry the wealthy but consumptive Louise de Mareuil, but he is excited by the idea of a forbidden, incestuous relationship with his stepmother. In an interesting reversal of normal gender stereotypes, Zola portrays Maxime as delicate, feminine and beautiful while describing Renée as having masculine traits and being the stronger, more assertive of the two. Their affair forms one major thread of the novel; the other is concerned with Aristide’s business schemes and his attempts to get Renée to sign over the deeds to her family home.

The Kill, then, is a book that focuses on the lives of the rich and privileged. It’s a very descriptive book, as Zola brings to life the huge, opulent mansions, exquisite clothing, lavish banquets and luxurious carriages of the very wealthy. The title is a hunting term referring to the scraps of prey that are thrown to the hounds at the end of the hunt and Zola uses this as a metaphor for the greed of the businessmen who are fighting for money, power and influence and taking whatever they can from the rebuilding of the city. There wasn’t a single character I liked or had much sympathy for (although Aristide’s sister Sidonie was a great villain!) and I found all the descriptions of extravagance and waste overwhelming and distasteful, but I know that was the point of the novel so it certainly achieves its purpose. Apparently Zola himself was a poor journalist at the time of writing this book and had no personal experience of the sort of world he was describing, so everything had to be written purely from research, which makes it even more impressive.

I’m aware that there are several English translations of this book available, including an old one you can download free from Project Gutenberg, but I read a modern (2004) translation by Brian Nelson and do recommend it. I also found the introduction to my Oxford World’s Classics edition interesting as it discusses not just the story but also Baron Haussmann’s transformation of Paris. One of the projects that took place under Haussmann was the creation of the glass and iron structure that housed the Les Halles food market, which is the setting of the third book in the series, The Belly of Paris, and the next one I’m planning to read!

Book 8/20 of 20 Books of Summer

I’m also counting this towards Paris in July hosted by Emma of Words and Peace.

This is also book 5/50 from my third Classics Club list.

Around the World with 20 Books of Summer: A Mid-July Update

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We’re just slightly past the halfway point in this year’s 20 Books of Summer challenge and our host, Annabel, has suggested that we look back at our reading so far in the form of a summer road trip:

Take a look at the books you’ve read so far and plan a road trip around them: put them in an order that makes sense – use locations, author nationalities, landmarks, key words – whatever works. Feel free to wax lyrical about how you’re travelling, your transport.

Then thinking ahead, to books you’re planning to read later in the challenge, where will the next stops be?

Here’s my attempt…

Our journey starts in the 1950s on a sheep station in Western Australia with A Far-flung Life by ML Stedman. We then take a trip north to Japan (and a short trip back in time to the 1940s) to solve a murder in Seishi Yokomizo’s She Walks at Night.

Next, The Persian Boy by Mary Renault takes us all the way back to the 4th century BC and a range of locations including Persia, India and Babylon. We stay in Ancient times for a while and head to Greece to hear the story of Aphrodite in Jennifer Saint’s This Immortal Heart. Then we’ll need to jump into the time machine again and travel forward many centuries to 1936 for The Lost Château by Dinah Jefferies which begins in Greece before quickly moving to the beautiful Dordogne region of France.

The Unicorn Hunters, Katherine Arden’s historical fantasy, is set further north in Brittany and features a visit to the enchanted forest of Brocéliande. After this, we spend some time in Paris during the late 19th and early 20th centuries with two books by French authors: The Kill by Émile Zola and Gigi and The Cat by Colette.

Crossing the Channel to England, The Boleyn Secret by Alison Weir is set in the Tudor period and tells the story of Kate Carey. Although the book moves around to several locations, including Switzerland and Germany, much of it is set in and around London. The Scandalous Ladies Football Club by Frances Quinn, inspired by the formation of the British Ladies’ Football Club in 1895, is also set in London. Heading south-west to Cornwall, an election campaign unfolds in The Rose and the Yew Tree by Mary Westmacott, before our journey comes to a temporary end in Haworth, West Yorkshire, home of Emily Brontë, the subject of Deborah Lutz’s biography, This Dark Night.

~

As you can see, although I’ve read twelve books for 20 Books of Summer so far, I’ve only reviewed seven of them. I’m hoping to catch up with the rest of the reviews soon. As for my plans for the second half of the challenge, my two current reads are No Fair Maidens by Kim Willis (nonfiction about British myths) and The Matchbox Girl by Alice Jolly (this year’s Walter Scott Prize winner, set in Vienna). After that I still have another three books on my list – The Crownless Queen by Elizabeth Chadwick, By the Pricking of My Thumbs by Agatha Christie and The Calamity Club by Kathryn Stockett – as well as three empty slots to fill with anything I choose.

Are you taking part in 20 Books of Summer this year? How are you doing? Which countries have you visited in your reading so far?

The Rose and the Yew Tree by Mary Westmacott

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This month’s theme for the Read Christie 2026 challenge is ‘Best-Kept Secret’ and we’re focusing on the six novels Christie wrote under the pseudonym Mary Westmacott. I have already read three of them – Giant’s Bread, Unfinished Portrait and A Daughter’s a Daughter – so I decided to read The Rose and the Yew Tree next as it’s also on my lists for both the Classics Club and the 20 Books of Summer challenge.

The Rose and the Yew Tree is narrated by Hugh Norreys, who breaks off his engagement to Jennifer after being badly injured in a car accident. Confined to a wheelchair, Hugh moves to St Loo in Cornwall to live with his brother and sister-in-law, Robert and Teresa. His condition has left him feeling bitter and worthless and he secretly keeps a bottle of pills to hand in case he decides to end his life. However, he finds several things in St Loo to distract him from thoughts of suicide…

First of all, Hugh is introduced to Lady St Loo, widow of the seventh baron, along with her sister, sister-in-law and granddaughter Isabella. Hugh has never met anyone quite like the beautiful, strange Isabella; she has a calmness and poise he’s never encountered before and several characters in the book refer to her as a fairytale princess. But Hugh is not the only man drawn to Isabella; she also catches the eye of John Gabriel, the Tory party candidate for St Loo in the upcoming elections.

Gabriel is the son of a plumber and has done his best to work his way up the social ladder, but still feels a sense of inferiority around people of a higher class, although this is masked by his confident, charismatic exterior. He’s not a natural Tory – in fact, he doesn’t have any strong political views one way or the other – but he wants a career in politics and thinks he’ll have more chance of standing out than he would in the Labour party. Gabriel’s campaign plays a large part in the novel, as does his complex relationship with Isabella, whom he both desires and resents (the resentment because she belongs to the aristocracy he despises so much).

First published in 1948, the novel takes its title from the poem, Little Gidding by TS Eliot: “The moment of the rose and the moment of the yew-tree Are of equal duration.” I won’t explain the significance here, but you’ll understand it once you’ve read the book. Compared to the other Westmacott novels I’ve read, I found this one particularly complex – not necessarily the plot, which is quite straightforward, but in terms of the psychology and the underlying messages. It’s also much more than a simple romance (the Westmacotts are often described as romances, but I think that’s misleading).

I enjoyed the political element of the novel, set during the build to the 1945 General Election, which would result in a landslide Labour win over Winston Churchill’s Conservatives. What’s striking is how many of the characters get caught up in the election campaign without actually having any particular political allegiances – Hugh admits to not really understanding politics, Teresa claims the parties are all the same, Gabriel is just interested in the power and social standing a political career will give him, and Isabella only cares because it’s important to Gabriel. We also see how a candidate’s personal actions can affect their reputation with the public, for better or worse (such as rescuing a child or becoming involved with a married woman). Christie doesn’t often write about politics on a smaller scale like this – although several of her books deal with international espionage and intrigue – so I found it fascinating.

Of the four Westmacotts I’ve now read, I think this one and A Daughter’s a Daughter are the best, but I still have The Burden and Absent in the Spring to come!

Book 7/20 of 20 Books of Summer

This is also book 4/50 from my third Classics Club list.

No Friend to This House by Natalie Haynes

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I’ve read and enjoyed two of Natalie Haynes’ previous novels, A Thousand Ships and Stone Blind – both Greek mythology retellings, inspired by the Trojan War and the story of Medusa, respectively – so I was looking forward to this one, No Friend to This House. It retells the myth of Medea and is based on Euripides’ classic play.

Medea, however, doesn’t appear until halfway through the book. The first half is devoted to describing the journey of the Argo, the ship which carries Jason and his men, the Argonauts, to Medea’s home in Colchis in search of the Golden Fleece. Rather than telling this part of the story through the eyes of the Argonauts, though, it’s told from the perspectives of the various women – both mortals and goddesses – whose lives are touched in some way by the Argo‘s journey. This narrative structure is similar to the other two Haynes novels I’ve read and in all three it’s very effective as the actions of those on the peripherals can be just as important as those at the centre of the story.

Some of the characters we hear from are names everyone will know, such as the goddesses Hera, Athena and Aphrodite, but others are less famous – for example, Erato the Muse, the priestess Iphias and even the dove, Peleia! One of these lesser known characters, Kleite, is particularly grateful to be given a voice at last…

That’s right, I’m just glossed over every time – Kleite with the beautiful hair – as if that tells you who I am or why I did what I did. So if you didn’t know me until I got your attention just now, well isn’t that more reason to include me, not less? What’s the point in telling the old stories all over again in the same way?

Once Medea makes her appearance, the book begins to feel different. We spend longer with Medea than with any of the other characters, seeing multiple chapters from her perspective, and I missed the wide range of voices we heard in the earlier sections of the book. Still, I found this retelling of the Jason and Medea story much more enjoyable than the last one I read (Savage Beasts by Rani Selvarajah). There were also some other little touches that I loved. For example, every chapter is headed with a word or string of words in italics which, taken on their own, make no sense at all, but when put together tell a story-within-a-story. There’s also a fascinating ‘interlude’ in the middle of the book which describes the origins of the Golden Fleece itself.

Overall, I think I enjoyed this book more than A Thousand Ships but not quite as much as Stone Blind, although all three are excellent. I still need to read her earlier novels and her non-fiction, but I would also like to hear any recommendations of other Jason and Medea retellings! Have you read any good ones?