Royal Witch by Philippa Gregory

It’s been years since I last read anything by Philippa Gregory, so I decided to try her latest novel, Royal Witch. It’s the story of Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester, a woman who has appeared as a secondary character in other books I’ve read (including Gregory’s own The Lady of the Rivers), although this is the first one I’ve read that focuses on her specifically.

We first meet Eleanor in 1421 as a young woman of twenty arriving at Westminster Palace to become a lady-in-waiting to Jacqueline, Countess of Hainault. Jacqueline has taken refuge at the English court after being betrayed by members of her own family who have seized her lands. She is looking for help to regain them and marries Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, in the hope that he can provide the military support she needs in Hainault. Humphrey, however, is having problems in his own country – although he has been named Protector of England until his baby nephew, Henry VI, is old enough to rule, he faces opposition in government from his Beaufort rivals.

As the daughter of a minor nobleman, Eleanor arrives at court wanting nothing more than to marry well, but once she grows close to the strong and determined Jacqueline and sees what it’s possible for a woman to do, she starts to believe she should be aiming higher. She turns for help to Margery Jourdemayne, known as the Witch of Eye, but if it becomes known that Eleanor has been meddling in the dark arts, it could lead to her downfall rather than her glory.

I enjoyed Royal Witch; I love this period of history and it was good to see it through the eyes of a woman I haven’t read very much about. The events taking place in England are significant because they lead directly to the Wars of the Roses and the founding of the Tudor dynasty, but I also found Jacqueline interesting to read about – her campaign to reclaim her lands forms a big part of the first half of the novel and I kept thinking that maybe Gregory should have just written Jacqueline’s story instead of Eleanor’s! Eleanor’s own story doesn’t really start to gain momentum until halfway through the book when she sets her sights on the throne of England and begins to set her plans in motion.

Gregory often seems to enjoy making her heroines as unpleasant as possible (like Margaret Beaufort in The Red Queen); Eleanor is another example of this – she’s ambitious, vain, selfish and vindictive, with few, if any, redeeming qualities. Despite this, it’s impossible not to feel for her when she is rejected by the man she loves, Owen ap Maredudd, who chooses another woman over her, an incident which is the source of a lot of her anger and resentment in the second half of the novel. You may already know who Owen is and who he marries instead, but if not I’ll let you find out for yourself! As Eleanor plots revenge on Owen and his new lover, her outward actions become more cruel and her inner thoughts more bitter, which makes her both an entertaining narrator and quite a chilling one as well. Not even the young king is safe from her plots and machinations.

Margery Jourdemayne is another interesting character. She’s portrayed mainly as a herbalist and fortune teller who becomes caught up in Eleanor’s scheming, along with the astrologer Roger Bolingbroke, leading to accusations of witchcraft, treason and necromancy. This is the climax of the story which everything that comes before was building towards, but we have to wait a long time for it – and that’s my only real criticism of the novel; it often felt longer than it really needed to be and the earlier sections could probably have been condensed to improve the pacing. Otherwise I found this very enjoyable and I wish more authors would write about lesser known Plantagenet women rather than the Tudors!

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

Arabella by Georgette Heyer – #1949Club

This is my third and final book for this week’s 1949 Club, hosted by Simon of Stuck in a Book and Karen of Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings. Whichever year is chosen for the club, you can almost guarantee Georgette Heyer will have had a book published in that particular year – and 1949 is no exception.

The novel begins with Arabella Tallant, the eldest daughter of a Yorkshire vicar, being invited to London to stay with her godmother, Mrs Bridlington, for the season. On the way, her carriage breaks down and she seeks shelter at the nearest house, which turns out to be a hunting lodge belonging to Robert Beaumaris, one of the richest men in England. When she overhears Mr Beaumaris telling his friend that he doesn’t believe the carriage is really broken and he suspects Arabella of having her eye on his fortune, the offended Arabella impulsively decides to pretend that she’s already the heiress to a fortune of her own. She asks Beaumaris and his friend to keep this information to themselves, but when she arrives in London she’s horrified to find that the story of her great wealth is all over town…

I really enjoyed Arabella. It’s a relatively simple plot; where some of Heyer’s other books have elements of mystery or adventure or include real historical events, this one focuses mainly on the romance and although it’s easy to predict how it will end, the fun is in getting there! It helps that the hero and heroine are both so easy to like. Arabella is warm-hearted and compassionate and has been raised by her father to care about those less fortunate than herself. Beaumaris, despite his sophisticated, cynical exterior and the insensitive comment he makes during his first meeting with Arabella, also has a kind heart. He quickly sees through Arabella’s lie but instead of confronting her with it he waits for her to decide to tell him the truth herself.

Another thing that interested me (and which I found quite unusual for a Heyer novel) was the exploration of poverty and hardship, in contrast with the portrayal of upper-class Regency society. Arabella is moved by the plights of an abused climbing-boy (chimney sweep’s boy), a badly treated mongrel and a disreputable woman known as Leaky Peg, all of whom she foists – or tries to foist – onto Beaumaris, which provides most of the humour in the book! There’s also a subplot involving Arabella’s naïve, well-meaning but easily led younger brother, Bertram, who arrives in London and gets himself into trouble almost immediately. Bertram’s storyline is also quite predictable – there are a lot of similar younger brothers and cousins in Heyer’s novels! – but I didn’t mind that as I found him very endearing.

If you’re new to Heyer, I think this could be a good place to start: the story is easy to follow, the characters are charming and likeable, and it has a classic, sparkling Regency setting. It was also a great choice for my final 1949 Club book!

The Gamester by Rafael Sabatini – #1949Club

This is my second book for this week’s 1949 Club (hosted by Karen of Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings and Simon of Stuck in a Book). I’ve loved some of Rafael Sabatini’s other novels, so I was pleased to find that he had one published in 1949. Sabatini was born in Italy to an English mother and Italian father; he was an accomplished linguist and wrote all of his novels in English even though it was actually his sixth language!

The Gamester was Sabatini’s final book, published a year before his death. It’s set in the early 18th century and tells the story of the Scottish financier and economist John Law, the Laird of Lauriston. Many people today probably haven’t heard of Law, but he was hugely important and influential in his time, establishing France’s first central bank, the Banque Générale, which issued the country’s first paper money. He also founded the Mississippi Company to manage France’s colonial trade in America. The word ‘millionaire’ was first used to describe the company shareholders who made their fortunes in what was known as the Mississippi Bubble (before it burst in 1720). You can see how his legacy still lives on today, then.

In The Gamester, Sabatini follows John Law from the time of his arrival in France in 1715. Having escaped from prison in England, after being sentenced to death for killing a man in a duel, Law has been wandering Europe for many years, making his fortune through cards and dice. Hearing of the death of King Louis XIV of France and the establishment of the regency of Philippe d’Orléans, Law sees a chance to make himself useful to the new regime and heads straight for Paris. The novel then covers his role in founding the Banque Générale and the Mississippi Company, as well as his long-running rivalry with Count Antoine-Joseph of Horn (the villain of the book).

John Law undoubtedly led a fascinating and eventful life, but I didn’t enjoy this book as much as I’d hoped to. I think Sabatini is at his best when he’s writing about fictional characters and creating his own storylines (definitely read Scaramouche if you haven’t already!) and his books about real people feel a bit dry in comparison. Although he does take some liberties with the real John Law’s character, for example involving him more heavily than he really was in the foiling of the treasonous plot known as the Cellamare Conspiracy, in general I felt he was too constrained by historical fact to make the story feel truly exciting. This is the same problem I noted with The Minion, his novel about the Overbury Affair.

There were still plenty of things that I did enjoy about the book, particularly the parts dealing with the relationship between Law and his wife, Catherine, whom he considers bitter and shrewish. It’s obvious to the reader that there’s much more to Catherine than Law sees or appreciates, but sadly his family seem to be very low on his list of priorities – he and Catherine have children but we barely see them and aren’t even told their names. When his fortunes eventually change again and he does begin to understand what’s really important in life, we can only hope it’s not too late. It’s an interesting novel, then, with a lot going on, but the focus on money, gambling, banking and dealing in stocks and shares just didn’t really appeal to me. I’ll continue to work through his novels and hope that I get on better with the next one I try.

Top Ten Tuesday: Book Covers Featuring Autumnal Colours

This week’s topic for Top Ten Tuesday (hosted by That Artsy Reader Girl) is: “Book Covers Featuring Autumnal Colors (submitted by Wordy Witterings).”

This was more difficult than I expected, but I’ve managed to find ten covers featuring shades of orange, gold, brown or dark red. These are all books I’ve read and I’ve provided links to my reviews.

1. The Autumn Throne by Elizabeth Chadwick

2. Case Histories by Kate Atkinson

3. Bring Up the Bodies by Hilary Mantel

4. Towers in the Mist by Elizabeth Goudge

5. Hallowe’en Party by Agatha Christie

6. Sugar Money by Jane Harris

7. Excellent Intentions by Richard Hull

8. The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson

9. Answer in the Negative by Henrietta Hamilton

10. The Invention of Fire by Bruce Holsinger

~

Have you read any of these? Which other books with autumnal covers can you think of?

Brat Farrar by Josephine Tey – #1949Club

This week Karen of Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings and Simon of Stuck in a Book are hosting another of their clubs where we all read and write about books published in the same year. This time the chosen year is 1949, which seems to have been a particularly great year for literature – last week I posted a list of my previous 1949 reviews and there were eleven of them! I have some more reviews coming this week, starting with this one, Brat Farrar by Josephine Tey, which is also on my Classics Club list.

As a baby, Brat Farrar was abandoned on the steps of an orphanage on St Bartholomew’s Day (hence the name Brat, from Bartholomew or Bart). After spending some time in America working on a ranch, he returns as an adult to England where he is spotted by Alec Loding, an actor. Loding has mistaken Brat for Simon Ashby, a young man whose family he knows well. Simon’s twin brother, Patrick, went missing eight years earlier shortly after their parent’s deaths, and was believed to have drowned himself as his coat and a suicide note were found on a clifftop. Simon is now the sole heir to Latchetts, the family estate, and is due to inherit on his twenty-first birthday, which is almost here.

Brat allows himself to be persuaded to go to Latchetts and pretend to be Patrick Ashby so that he, as the elder twin will inherit everything. Loding coaches him on the family history, the layout of the house and everything else he needs to know to be able to successfully impersonate Patrick. I’m sure if I tried to do that, I would forget it all and get caught out immediately, but Brat does an amazing job and the Ashbys are completely fooled. Or are they?

I’ve been meaning to read this book for years, ever since I read The Ivy Tree by Mary Stewart, which has a very similar plot and even references Brat Farrar several times. My previous experience of Tey’s work has been mixed – I liked The Daughter of Time and found A Shilling for Candles boring – but I really enjoyed this one. I love a good impersonation story and even did a Top Ten Tuesday post on them a while ago! Tey is thought to have taken inspiration from the real life case of the Tichborne Claimant from the 1860s.

The really intriguing thing about this book is that even though we know from the start that Brat is a participant in a deliberate fraud and therefore a criminal, we find ourselves siding with him and rooting for him anyway. This is partly because Simon, the real Ashby heir, is so unlikeable, and partly because Brat, in contrast, is quiet, kind and thoughtful and his motives for going along with the impersonation scheme seem to be not so much for the money but more for the sense of belonging – and also the chance to work with the horses at Latchetts! Naturally, this leads to some internal conflict when he finds himself growing to like and care for the family he is deceiving.

This book does require some suspension of disbelief. I felt that the Ashbys and their friends and neighbours (apart from Simon, who is immediately sceptical) were very quick to accept that Patrick had returned from the dead and I found it unlikely that anyone could really carry on a deception like that for any length of time without making mistakes and giving themselves away. But apart from that – and the focus on horses, show jumping and racing, which I could have done without – this was an entertaining read and a great choice for 1949 Club!

This is also book 8/50 from my third Classics Club list.

The Witch Elm by Sally-Anne Martyn

Midwife Melissa Hendrix has bought a house in the small English village of Heredge, ready to start a new life after being embroiled in a scandal at her previous hospital. She is also trying to escape from her ex-boyfriend who has been stalking her and she hopes he won’t be able to track her down. As she settles into her new home and job, however, she quickly discovers that things are not quite right. She can’t believe that in such a small community there are twelve women all heavily pregnant and due at the same time – and every one of them is insisting on a home birth. And why does the sinister Lucien and his Open Arms Church seem to have such a hold over everyone in the village?

In 1656, Elizabeth Wade and her parents live in the same house, Elm Tree Cottage, that Melissa will move into almost four centuries later. Elizabeth works as a servant in the household of the wealthy Radcliffe family, but she also has a knowledge of herbal remedies and when she meets a company of travelling performers she is asked to tend to one of the party, who is an invalid.

You can probably guess what’s going to happen to Elizabeth, considering the title of the book and the way female healers were regarded in the 1650s as waves of witch hunting swept across the country. I’ve read other novels about historical witches and witch trials and expected this one to be very similar, but it actually turned out to be quite different and although some parts were predictable, others weren’t. There’s a lot of emphasis on horror elements – an ancient elm tree that seems to possess magical powers, rituals and curses passed down through the centuries, strange noises and ghostly presences. The dark atmosphere and creepy village setting kept reminding me of The Craftsman by Sharon Bolton.

Melissa’s narrative alternates with Elizabeth’s throughout the book and usually I would find myself drawn more to the historical timeline – this time, though, I preferred the present day one. Melissa came to life for me in a way that Elizabeth didn’t and I enjoyed seeing her navigating the various challenges she faces in the role of midwife in a community under the thumb of an influential cult leader. As an outsider she is viewed with suspicion and wariness at first, but slowly begins to form some friendships – including one with Grizzly, the stray cat who takes up residence in her house! I would have liked to have been told more about her backstory, though, as I felt that part of the book was incomplete.

Elizabeth felt less real to me, but her story was still compelling and I thought it was interesting to read about the travelling performers (although I was slightly bothered by the use of the term ‘circus’ throughout the book as it felt anachronistic). Obviously circuses didn’t exist then in the way they do today, but small groups of entertainers like the one in the novel did, despite the bans on public theatre in Puritan England. Elizabeth’s association with these people makes her situation more dangerous, especially as the woman she is caring for also appears to be a witch. I was intrigued by the village being referred to as Heathersage in the historical chapters and Heredge in the modern ones; I’m assuming a natural corruption of the name over time, although there’s no explanation given.

The Witch Elm turned out to be a perfect October read. Sally-Anne Martyn is a new author for me, but it seems she has written three other thrillers which also sound interesting, although quite different from this one.

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

Reviewed for RIPXXI hosted by @perilreaders

The Death of Shame by Ambrose Parry

This is the fifth and final book in Ambrose Parry’s Raven and Fisher historical crime series set within the medical world of 19th century Edinburgh. I’m sorry that it’s the last one, as I’ve enjoyed all of the books and am disappointed there won’t be any more. If you’re new to the series, I recommend reading in order starting with the first novel, The Way of All Flesh, but it’s not completely essential as the books also work as separate mysteries.

As The Death of Shame opens, Dr Will Raven is trying to establish his own medical practice, away from his friend and mentor James Simpson, the famous obstetrician. He is assisted financially by Sarah Fisher and in return has agreed to give her some training in secret as she has been disappointed in her efforts to obtain a medical degree like the American female physicians, Elizabeth and Emily Blackwell. Sarah soon has more urgent matters to deal with, however; her young niece, Annabel, was due to arrive in Edinburgh to take up a position in service, but she has gone missing and Sarah fears she may have been lured into prostitution.

Meanwhile, Raven is also having problems of his own. His father-in-law, Dr Cameron Todd, has been found dead, believed to have committed suicide, and as Raven begins to dig into the circumstances of his death he makes some shocking discoveries. His wife, Eugenie, has seemed depressed and withdrawn since the birth of their second child and Raven feels he can’t burden her with anything else, so he continues his investigation alone, afraid of what else he might learn.

The Death of Shame, like the other books in the series, is both a mystery novel and a social commentary on the darker side of life in Victorian Edinburgh. Suicide, blackmail and the trafficking of young women are just some of the topics this book tackles, along with the growing trade in pornography made possible by new developments in photography. It’s a fascinating book, although obviously quite disturbing at times as well. The Historical Note at the end is definitely worth reading as it provides more information on some of the subjects covered in the book, as well as explaining which characters are real or inspired by real people.

Ambrose Parry is a pseudonym of the husband and wife writing team consisting of crime author Chris Brookmyre and consultant anaesthetist Dr Marisa Haetzman. With their different skills and areas of knowledge, they both bring something special to the writing of these novels. I felt that this particular book didn’t have as much medical detail in it, but with the inclusion of real life doctor Emily Blackwell it does explore the prejudice towards women in medicine and the lack of opportunities for study, as well as looking at the difficulties even qualified male doctors like Raven face in setting up a new medical practice and trying to convince patients to entrust them with their care.

This book brings the series to a satisfying conclusion, although I think there was still more that could have been written about Will and Sarah and I’m sorry that their story has come to an end. The good news is that there’s an Ambrose Parry short story I haven’t read yet, so at least I still have that to look forward to!

Reviewed for RIPXXI hosted by @perilreaders