The House of Fallen Sisters by Louise Hare

February 11, 20268 Comments

Louise Hare has written several historical novels set in various periods, but this is the first one I’ve read. I’ll probably be looking for her others as I enjoyed this one – it has an interesting setting and an engaging heroine and it explores a little-known episode from British history.

It’s December 1765 and Sukey Maynard is running away from home – home being Mrs Macauley’s brothel in Covent Garden. It used to be her mother’s place of work, until she died when Sukey was very young, and since then Sukey has been cared for by Mrs Macauley and her family. Now that she’s fourteen, her virginity is about to be auctioned off to the highest bidder and she’s decided to flee rather than stay and go through with it. Before she gets very far, she encounters a young man who has been badly beaten and wounded, and she helps him reach a doctor, who agrees to treat him. However, this delay means that Sukey finds herself captured and taken back to Mrs Macauley.

The rest of the novel follows Sukey after she returns to the brothel and prepares to face whatever life has in store for her. At first her position is better than she expected as she catches the eye of a wealthy client whom she hopes will become her ‘keeper’, but what will she do if he changes his mind? The lives of Sukey and the other girls in Mrs Macauley’s establishment are difficult, uncertain and often unpleasant, but Hare shows us how even in the bleakest of circumstances, small acts of friendship and kindness can make a big difference. Although Sukey makes some enemies, she also makes some good friends and I enjoyed watching her various relationships develop.

There’s a mystery element to the story, which unfolds as young women begin to go missing, both from Mrs Macauley’s house and from the surrounding area, thought to have been lured away by a mysterious figure known only as the Piper. We find out what’s happening to the women earlier than I expected, but this allows Hare to take the story in some interesting directions as Sukey and her friends look for revenge.

Another subplot revolves around Jonathan Strong, the young man Sukey rescues after he is beaten almost to death. Strong really existed and his story is a fascinating one as he was a slave whose owner brought him to London from Barbados and he became the subject of an important legal case regarding slavery and the abolitionist movement in Britain. Sukey herself is mixed race, which gives her an added interest in his fate, and she and her friends try to help Jonathan in any way they can throughout the book. William Sharp, the doctor who treats him, and his brother Granville Sharp are also real people. This is the first time I’ve read a novel in which the Sharps and Jonathan Strong appear, so I found that aspect of the story fascinating.

Although I’ve read other novels about women in Sukey’s position (I highly recommend Michel Faber’s The Crimson Petal and the White and Elodie Harper’s The Wolf Den), the addition of the Jonathan Strong storyline made this one well worth reading as well. The book is published in the UK tomorrow, 12th February.

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

An Astronomer in Love by Antoine Laurain – #ReadIndies

February 6, 20269 Comments

Translated by Louise Rogers Lalaurie and Megan Jones

I’ve been aware of Antoine Laurain’s books for years but this is the first one I’ve read. It was originally published in French in 2022 as Les caprices d’un astre and is now available in an English translation from Pushkin Press. I’m counting it towards this year’s Read Indies month, hosted by Karen of Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings, which celebrates books published by independent publishers.

An Astronomer in Love is a dual timeline novel. One thread of the story is set in contemporary Paris, where divorced estate agent Xavier Lemercier has found an old telescope in a property he’s sold. He discovers that the telescope once belonged to the 18th century astronomer Guillaume Le Gentil, but he’s reluctant to give it to a museum and takes it home so he and his eleven-year-old son can use it to look at the night sky. Setting up the telescope on the terrace of his apartment, Xavier tests it out by looking at the nearby buildings – and is intrigued when he spots a woman on her balcony with what appears to be a zebra. Who is she and why would she have a zebra living in her apartment? Xavier is determined to find out!

In a second narrative which alternates with the first, we meet Guillaume Le Gentil as he sets out on a voyage to India in 1760, hoping to observe the transit of Venus across the face of the sun. Unfortunately, due to delays and bad weather, he misses the transit and decides to stay in that part of the world until the next one eight years later. The novel describes his adventures during this period and the people and wildlife he encounters.

Guillaume Le Gentil is a real historical figure and the expedition covered in the novel really happened. It was fascinating to read about his visits to Madagascar, the Philippines, Pondicherry and the Isle de France (now Mauritius), and his observations of creatures such as flying fish, giant tortoises, ring-tailed lemurs, and even dodos, which would be considered extinct just a few years later. I think Guillaume’s story would have been interesting enough to fill a whole book on its own, but I felt that I didn’t get the chance to know him on a personal level as much as I would have liked, because we kept having to leave him behind to return to Xavier in the modern day.

Xavier’s timeline is linked to Guillaume’s in several ways, the telescope being just one of them. Sometimes a word, phrase or thought, or a sighting of a particular bird or animal will lead seamlessly from one narrative to the other. It’s difficult to explain what I mean, but it’s cleverly done and works well. Although, as I’ve said, I would have been happy to stay with the historical timeline all the way through, Xavier’s story was also entertaining, apart from a strange episode involving terrorism that felt out of place. There’s a romance for both main characters too – and Venus, of course, is the goddess of love, so there’s some symbolism there, with the transit of Venus playing an important part in both threads of the novel.

Antoine Laurain’s other books all sound intriguing and I liked this one enough to want to try another one. If you’ve read any of them, which would you recommend?

Brigid by Kim Curran

February 2, 20264 Comments

I enjoyed Kim Curran’s previous book, The Morrigan, which told the story of the Irish goddess of war and fate, one of the supernatural race known as the Tuatha Dé Danann. Her new novel, Brigid, takes as its subject another figure from Ireland’s distant past: Saint Brigid of Kildare, a semi-mythical woman who may or may not have existed. The current thinking seems to be that she was a real person, an abbess who founded the abbey of Kildare, but has been given many of the attributes of the Celtic goddess, Brigid, who shares her name. Curran’s approach is to include both Brigids in the novel, with the goddess guiding and watching over her human namesake.

The human Brigid, born in the 5th century, is the daughter of an Irish chieftain and one of his slaves, whom he sells to a druid when she becomes pregnant. Brigid grows up in slavery in the druid’s household before being returned to her father, who attempts to arrange a marriage for her. When she gives away her father’s best sword to a beggar, the king hears about her kindness and grants Brigid her freedom. Determined not to be forced into marriage or to live a life controlled by men, Brigid sets off alone on a journey to find her mother. Along the way she makes several new friends, including Lommán the leper and Darlughdach the bard, with whom she later founds a small sanctuary for women, which expands over time into the large and powerful abbey of Kildare.

I had no prior knowledge of Brigid’s life before beginning this book, but it seems that Curran has incorporated many of the key events and characters traditionally associated with Brigid’s story. One of these characters is St Patrick, with whom Brigid clashes several times throughout the book. She resents Patrick because he has all the advantages of being a man in a male-dominated society and because his approach to converting people to Christianity is more forceful than hers. Brigid is happy to allow people to continue celebrating pagan gods and festivals alongside the new Christian religion rather than expecting an immediate conversion.

For a while, it seemed that the message of the book was “all men bad, all women good”, which is something that tends to annoy me because I think there are better, fairer ways to promote feminism. However, it turned out to be slightly more nuanced than that, as eventually some of Brigid’s own friends and followers become frustrated by her hatred of men and even Brigid herself has to accept that a life entirely without men is not possible and she’s going to have to learn to work with them whether she wants to or not. She can also be cruel, punishing people harshly for the smallest of things. As someone who would become a saint, I certainly didn’t find her very saintly in this depiction, but despite that she’s clearly someone who inspires love and loyalty from the women around her and that’s what makes her an interesting, if not always likeable, character to read about.

Whereas The Morrigan was a mythological retelling, with strong fantasy elements, this book is more grounded in reality. There’s still a small amount of magic, though, such as when Brigid performs her miracles – healing lepers, for example, or turning milk into butter. She’s assisted in this by the goddess Brigid, who occasionally appears to her in human form. However, I would describe this as much more of a historical fiction novel than a fantasy one, while The Morrigan was the other way round. They are both interesting books and it’s good to see an author tackling subjects that aren’t written about very often.

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

The Land in Winter by Andrew Miller

January 26, 202622 Comments

Andrew Miller’s The Land in Winter had a lot of success last year, being shortlisted for the Booker Prize and winning the Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction. It also appeared on a lot of people’s end of year ‘best of’ lists so I had high hopes for it, particularly as I’ve previously enjoyed two of his other books, Pure and Now We Shall Be Entirely Free.

The novel is set in the winter of 1963, one of the coldest winters on record in the UK. Beginning in late December 1962 and lasting until March, temperatures plummeted, blizzards blanketed most of the country in deep snow and rivers and lakes froze over. Against this backdrop, we see the stories of two married couples play out. Dr Eric Parry has recently moved to rural Somerset with his wife, Irene, who is pregnant. Eric is enjoying being a country doctor, but Irene is finding it hard to adapt; it’s so different from her life in London and she misses her sister, who has gone to live in America. Despite her pregnancy, she feels that she and Eric are growing apart – and she’s right to feel that way because, unknown to Irene, Eric is having an affair with one of his patients.

Bill and Rita Simmons, who live at a nearby farm, are also newly arrived in the countryside. To the disappointment of his wealthy father, who wanted him to join the family business, Bill has chosen to follow a very different path and become a dairy farmer. It’s proving to be more difficult than he expected, but he’s sure that with new ideas and investment, he’ll be able to turn things around. He just needs to convince the bank to lend him the money! His wife Rita, like Irene, is pregnant and, also like Irene, she feels lonely and out of place, so it’s probably not surprising that the two women quickly form a bond and a friendship begins to develop.

Apart from a long chapter in the middle of the book in which Irene hosts a Boxing Day party and several other key characters converge on the Parrys’ house, the main focus is on the two couples, their daily lives and the relationships between them. All four characters are believable and strongly drawn, but I think Rita is the one I found most interesting. Before marrying Bill, she had been a dancer in a Bristol nightclub, so the transition to life as a farmer’s wife in a small, quiet community is particularly difficult for her. She has started hearing voices in her head, a sign of her vulnerable, fragile mental state, but Bill isn’t able to give her the support she needs, feeling that he doesn’t truly know who his wife is and preferring to ignore her past.

Although I did enjoy following the stories of Eric and Irene, Rita and Bill, I felt that I was held at a distance for most of the book and never quite connected with the characters on an emotional level as much as I would have liked to. Maybe it was just me, or maybe it was a result of the bleak, frozen setting reflecting their troubled, isolated lives and the coldness of their marriages. Still, this is an impressive novel overall and despite not quite managing to love it I can see why it’s so highly regarded.

A Slow and Secret Poison by Carmella Lowkis

January 22, 202610 Comments

It’s 1925 and Vee Morgan is on her way to Harfold Manor in Wiltshire to take up the position of gardener. She knows she’s lucky to get the job; although she loves being outdoors and was a Land Girl on a farm during the war, she has no horticultural qualifications and no references, not to mention that women gardeners are not at all common and not exactly in high demand. After arriving at her new workplace, however, she learns that none of the local men wanted the job and are reluctant to come anywhere near Harfold Manor and its strange inhabitant, Lady Arabella Lascy.

Arabella, alone in the world apart from her estate manager and cousin, Maurice Reacher, believes she and her family have been cursed. First her parents died, then all four of her brothers, each within three years of the one before, leaving only Arabella to inherit the family estate. Now another three years have passed and Arabella is convinced that she will be the next victim. But are the Lascys really under a curse or is there a more human explanation for what has been happening?

A Slow and Secret Poison is the second novel by Carmella Lowkis; I had mixed feelings about her first, Spitting Gold, a retelling of a Charles Perrault fairy tale, but I found this one more enjoyable. Vee interested me from the beginning – she’s a very flawed heroine, as we discover as the story unfolds and secrets from her past come to light – but I liked her as a character and I thought her practical, no-nonsense personality provided a good counterpart to the reclusive, fanciful Arabella. I was intrigued to learn from the author’s note at the end of the book that the character of Arabella was inspired by Stephen Tennant, one of the Bright Young Things of the 1920s.

The book has a lot of Gothic elements: the crumbling old house and its eccentric owner, the supposed Lascy family curse, sightings of a mythical hare and, of course, the poisonings hinted at in the title. I was reminded very much of Laura Purcell’s books, although this one isn’t as dark as those. I did find some of the secrets and twists quite easy to predict and some parts of the plot felt a little bit implausible (particularly regarding property ownership, which becomes an important part of the story later on), but otherwise it was a quick, entertaining read.

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

The House of Barbary by Isabelle Schuler

January 19, 202617 Comments

A few years ago I read Isabelle Schuler’s debut novel, Lady MacBethad, which is set in 11th century Scotland and imagines the early life of Gruoch, the ‘real’ Lady Macbeth. Her second book, The House of Barbary, is set in a very different time and place – 17th century Switzerland – and this time it’s inspired by the Bluebeard fairy tale.

Our heroine is Beatrice Barbary, the only child of Jakob Barbary, one of the two mayors of Bern. Beatrice has never known her mother, who died when she was a baby, and has had an unusual upbringing, with her father encouraging her interest in natural science, keeping her away from other children and, now that she’s a young woman, preventing her from marrying. As a result, the people of Bern think she is strange and she has no friends her own age. When Jakob is killed, brutally murdered in his own home, Beatrice is determined to find out who is responsible and why, but as she begins to investigate she becomes aware of just how vulnerable and alone she is. The only person who may be able to help is Johann Schorr, an artist who lived with the Barbary family during Beatrice’s childhood, working on a portrait of Jakob; the problem is, for some reason, Beatrice has no memory of him at all.

Beatrice’s narrative alternates with Johann’s story, which is set more than a decade earlier during his time in the Barbary household. As a Catholic in a largely Protestant city, Johann is grateful for the support and patronage of Jakob Barbary and begins to consider him a friend. However, their friendship is tested when Johann makes a gruesome discovery in Jakob’s cellar and he must decide whether he can continue working for the man or whether he should get as far away as possible, even if it means sacrificing his career and leaving Beatrice, an innocent young child, in danger.

If you’re familiar with the Bluebeard folktale, you can probably guess what’s hidden in the cellar – and if you’re not, I won’t spoil things by telling you. It’s only a loose retelling of Bluebeard anyway and whether or not you know other versions of the story should make no difference to your enjoyment of this one. And did I enjoy it? Yes, I did, for the most part – but I felt that some of the developments in the second half of the book let it down. Beatrice, who has set out to investigate and avenge her father’s death, ends up doing things that I found disproportionate and difficult to justify, so that I lost most of the sympathy I’d had for her earlier on. The ending was not what I’d expected or hoped for either.

I’ve never been to Bern and loved the descriptions of the city, as it was in the 1650s, with its cobbled streets, sandstone arcades and famous bear pits. I’ve read very few books set in Switzerland and even less about 17th century Switzerland, so everything was new to me; it was interesting to read about the political system in place at that time, with Bern having two mayors at once – they would alternate each year, one ‘acting’ and one ‘sitting’ – and four powerful officials known as Venners, who would each oversee one district of the city. This political system is important to the story, with Beatrice’s father being one of the two mayors and all four Venners being part of his inner circle.

Schuler’s historical note at the end of the book was fascinating; I discovered that, although Beatrice is a fictional character, she’s based on the real life German entomologist and naturalist Maria Sibylla Merian, a woman I previously knew nothing about. It’s always good to learn something new!

I think the only other Bluebeard retellings I’ve read are two short stories: Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber and Nalo Hopkinson’s The Glass Bottle Trick. If you can recommend anything else, please let me know.

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

The Silver Branch by Rosemary Sutcliff

January 5, 202625 Comments

After reading Rosemary Sutcliff’s The Eagle of the Ninth a few years ago, the first book in her Dolphin Ring Cycle, I wasn’t sure which one to read next. I was advised that it wouldn’t really matter as the books are all separate stories, but as I’m interested in reading all of them anyway, I decided to continue with the one listed next chronologically, which is The Silver Branch.

First published in 1957, The Silver Branch is set in Roman Britain more than a century after the events of The Eagle of the Ninth. The two main characters, Justin and Flavius, are descendants of Marcus Flavius Aquila, which provides the link between the two books. Towards the end of the 3rd century, Justin (Tiberius Lucius Justinianus) completes his apprenticeship as an army surgeon and is posted to Britain for the first time. Arriving at the fort of Rutupiae in Kent, he meets the centurion Flavius (Marcelus Flavius Aquila) and the two discover that they are distant cousins.

The Roman military commander Carausius has recently declared himself emperor of Britain and North Gaul. When the cousins overhear Allectus, the finance minister, plotting against Carausius, they try to warn the emperor but he seems reluctant to believe them and instead they find themselves sent north to Magnis, a fort near Hadrian’s Wall, apparently in disgrace. Worse still, they have now made an enemy of the powerful Allectus, who still has his sights set on the throne…

Although I thought The Eagle of the Ninth was the stronger book, I enjoyed this one as well. I knew nothing at all about this particular period of Roman history so I was able to learn a lot from it, not just about the historical and military events, but also about life in general in Roman Britain during and after Carausius’s reign. This is all described in vivid detail, making the novel completely immersive, and Sutcliff never talks down to the reader – it’s marketed as a children’s book, but it doesn’t actually feel like one and it definitely has a lot to offer readers of all ages.

Not all of the characters are Roman – for example, we meet Evicatos of the Spear, an exiled Dalriad hunter (Dalriada was an ancient Gaelic kingdom from western Scotland/north-eastern Ireland) – and although it’s a very male dominated story, Flavius’s great-aunt Honoria has an important role to play. The main focus of the book, though, is always on our two young protagonists and I found both of them very easy to like, particularly the shy, quiet Justin who grows as a person through his relationship with the more confident Flavius. It’s as much a story of male friendship as it is of the politics of Roman Britain.

If you’re wondering about the ‘silver branch’ of the title, it refers not to a tree but to an unusual musical instrument with silver apples on it belonging to Cullen, the emperor Carausius’s Fool, an eccentric man who calls himself a hound and wears a dog’s tail. The silver branch is a motif that appears several times throughout the novel, along with the dolphin signet ring, an Aquila family heirloom, and the lost eagle standard of the Ninth Legion.

This is book 50/50 from my second Classics Club list. Yes, I’ve completed it at last!