Category: Historical Fiction

The Rush by Beth Lewis

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I loved this! I’ve never read anything by Beth Lewis before, or even come across her, but this is one of my favourite books of the year so far. It’s set in Canada during the Gold Rush and follows the stories of three very different women whose paths cross in Dawson City in the Klondike.

The Rush begins with the arrival of Kate Kelly in Skaguay (now Skagway), Alaska, in 1898. Kate is there to meet up with the guide who is going to take her along the White Pass Trail, the route to Yukon and the Klondike goldfields. She needs to get there as quickly as possible because she has received a desperate plea for help from her sister, Charlotte, in Dawson City: This may be my last letter. He has finally found me and there is nowhere left to run.

In the little Klondike settlement of Boulder Creek, Ellen Rhodes spends her days alone in her cabin, cooking, cleaning and washing, while her husband, Charlie, goes down to the river and digs for gold that never appears. Ellen is sure they’re wasting their time and money, but Charlie refuses to give up on his dream. Finally, we meet Martha, owner of the Dawson Hotel, which doubles as the town’s brothel. Martha is fiercely proud of the business she has built up and is determined to keep it out of the hands of the ruthless Bill Mathers, who seems to be buying up the entire town.

The three women take turns to narrate the story, with the viewpoints rotating throughout the book. They are leading very separate lives at first, but are drawn together when one of Martha’s girls is found murdered. They’re also connected by a mysterious fortune teller who encounters all three of them and seems to have an uncanny ability to truly predict the future. There’s a mystery element to the novel as the women try to find out who the murder victim really is, who has killed her and why, but although this was intriguing and cleverly plotted, what I really loved was the setting and learning what it was like to be a woman in that fascinating but harsh environment where there were any number of natural and man-made disasters – an avalanche, a fire, an outbreak of typhoid – that could change everything in an instant.

I seem to read very few historical novels set in Canada, so I was pleased to have come across one with such a strong sense of place. The vivid descriptions made it easy for me to imagine the cabin by the river where Ellen and Charlie’s marriage falls apart, a victim to the obsessive fever that grabs hold of some human beings when gold is mentioned, and the streets of Dawson City where enterprising men and women like Martha have discovered that the real fortune is to be made not from mining but from the miners. But I particularly enjoyed following Kate’s journey from Alaska into Canada’s Yukon territory, a journey which includes a dramatic, exhilarating adventure crossing the dangerous White Horse Rapids.

I had assumed that the characters were entirely fictional, so I was surprised to read the author’s note at the end of the book and discover that many of them, including Kate, Ellen and Martha, are actually based loosely on real historical figures. This really is a fascinating book, in so many different ways, and I can’t recommend it highly enough.

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

Book 5/20 for 20 Books of Summer 2025.

The Hounding by Xenobe Purvis

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A lot of novels have been published recently dealing with the subject of witchcraft and witch trials, but The Hounding – Xenobe Purvis’ debut – is something different. Set in 18th century Oxfordshire, after the fervour for witch hunting has largely died down, it explores the dangers of being different in a small community where superstition is rife.

The five Mansfield sisters, who live with their blind grandfather on his farm, have become the subject of gossip in the village of Little Nettlebed. Their grandmother has recently died and the sisters are in mourning, but it seems that people have little sympathy for them. The Mansfields have always been seen as odd by the other villagers and since their grandmother’s death, a rumour has begun to spread that the girls have the power to turn themselves into dogs.

It’s Pete Darling, the drunken, misogynistic ferryman who starts the rumour after one of the girls refuses to speak to him, causing him to feel disrespected. As a summer heatwave descends on the village and the river begins to dry up, Pete’s trade is affected, giving him less to occupy his days and more time to drink. When he sees what he believes are the Mansfield sisters undergoing a strange transformation, it’s not quite clear what has actually happened. Has Pete had some kind of hallucination brought on by heat and alcohol? Is his own dislike of the girls causing him to see what he wants to see and conveniently giving him a way to punish them? Or are the sisters really turning into dogs in front of his eyes? Sadly, the girls are not popular in the village and other people are easily convinced that Pete’s story is true.

From calm, serious Anne, the eldest, down to little Mary, a solemn six-year-old – and in between pretty Elizabeth, shy, timid Grace and tomboyish Hester – the girls share a close bond and keep themselves to themselves, which leads to them being viewed as arrogant and unwelcoming. To Farmer Mansfield, however, they are his beloved granddaughters and he just wants them to be happy and safe. Other characters in the book also have their own views of the girls and these include newcomer Thomas Mildmay, who has been hired to help with the haymaking on the farm; the innkeeper’s wife, Temperance Shirly; and two local boys, Robin and Richard Wildgoose. The perspective we never really get is that of the sisters themselves, but seeing them through the eyes of others helps us to build up a picture of who the sisters really are and what they are like.

I found this a very atmospheric book; Purvis successfully creates a tense, almost claustrophobic feel through her descriptions of the relentless hot, dry weather and the small-mindedness of the villagers. A mixture of superstition, prejudice and fear of things they don’t understand makes the people of Little Nettlebed ready to think the worst of the Mansfield sisters and the girls don’t really do much to dispel these misconceptions because they do behave increasingly oddly when other people are around – almost as if becoming a dog is a safer option than being seen as different. I really enjoyed this fascinating and unusual novel!

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

A Schooling in Murder by Andrew Taylor

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I love Andrew Taylor’s books and over the last few years I’ve been enjoying his Marwood and Lovett series, set in the 17th century in the aftermath of the Great Fire of London. His new novel, A Schooling in Murder, is not part of the series and leaves that setting behind entirely, taking us instead to the 1940s and a girls’ school near the border of England and Wales.

The novel has a very unusual narrator and when I sat down to write this review I wondered if it would be possible to avoid giving away too much about her. However, the publisher’s own blurb reveals her secret, as do most of the other reviews I’ve seen (and to be fair, she tells us herself in the first chapter anyway): Annabel Warnock is a ghost. In life, she was a teacher at Monkshill Park School for Girls, until being pushed into the river from the Maiden’s Leap, a clifftop viewing point on the Gothick Walk, part of the school grounds. Who pushed her? Annabel doesn’t know, but she’s determined to find out.

As a ghost, Annabel is able to move freely around Monkshill Park – although places she never visited while alive are inaccessible to her – but she can’t be seen or heard by anyone else. This naturally makes investigating her murder very difficult, especially as her colleagues don’t even know she’s dead since her body was never washed up. It seems that the only person who can help is Alec Shaw, Annabel’s replacement – referred to simply as a ‘Visiting Tutor’ to appease parents worried about the school employing a man to teach their girls. Although she can’t speak directly to Alec, Annabel finds a very imaginative way to communicate with him, which was one of my favourite aspects of the book!

As well as the mystery element of the book, we also learn a lot about life in a 1940s girls’ boarding school. Andrew Taylor does a good job of portraying the rivalries and complex relationships that form when groups of teenage girls – and groups of teachers – are living together in a close-knit community. There are occasional references to the war, which is in its closing stages as the book begins in May 1945, but Monkshill Park feels largely sheltered from the outside world, so although the war touches the lives of the characters in various ways it doesn’t form a big part of the story.

The descriptions of the school and its landscape are very detailed, so I was interested to read in Taylor’s author’s note that he based it on Piercefield, a now ruined house and estate near Chepstow in Wales, and that in its fictional guise of Monkshill Park it also formed the setting for his earlier novel, The American Boy. I should have remembered that as The American Boy is my favourite of all the Andrew Taylor books I’ve read!

Although it was interesting to watch a victim trying to solve their own murder, I felt that there was a distance between the characters and the reader, which I suppose is inevitable when your narrator can only watch and observe rather than interact directly with the people around her. Maybe because we’re only seeing them from Annabel’s unique perspective, most of the characters also seem particularly unpleasant! Possibly for these reasons, I didn’t enjoy this quite as much as some of Taylor’s other books, but it was imaginative and different and I’m looking forward to whatever he writes next.

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

Book 3/20 for 20 Books of Summer 2025.

Before Dorothy by Hazel Gaynor

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I’m sure most of us have seen The Wizard of Oz (and/or read L. Frank Baum’s classic novel on which it’s based), but how many of us have stopped to think about what happened to the characters before the story began? Why was Dorothy living with her Aunt Em and Uncle Henry? Who were her real parents? And how did the family come to be in Kansas in the first place? In Hazel Gaynor’s new novel, Before Dorothy, she sets out to answer these questions and more.

The book is written from the perspective of Emily Gale – Aunt Em – and begins in 1932 as she returns to Chicago following the death of her sister, Annie. Annie’s seven-year-old daughter, Dorothy, has been left an orphan and Emily and her husband, Henry, are to become her legal guardians. Emily hasn’t seen Dorothy since she was a baby – she and Henry now live in Kansas and her relationship with Annie has been very strained in recent years – and she’s not at all sure she’s the right person to care for a child, particularly one who has suffered the trauma of losing her parents. Once back in Kansas, however, Emily gradually begins to feel a stronger bond with Dorothy than she’d expected.

Moving backwards and forwards in time, we watch as Emily and Annie, originally from Connemara in Ireland, first arrive in Chicago in 1924 and meet their respective husbands, cousins Henry and John Gale. We also see how Emily makes the decision to start a new life with Henry in Kansas and what she discovers when she gets there. The focus is always on Emily rather than Dorothy and unlike the Baum novel and its adaptations, the story is firmly grounded in reality rather than fantasy.

I tend not to read many books that are spin-offs of classics or that borrow other authors’ characters and I only chose to read this one because I’ve enjoyed some of Hazel Gaynor’s previous work. I wasn’t sure I would like it, but I did – although I think it would probably have worked just as well if it had simply been a novel about an original fictional family living on the prairie, with no connection to the Gales. It was fun spotting the references to The Wizard of Oz, though. The scarecrow, tin man and lion all appear, as do the wizard, witches (good and wicked), the tornado and many more – although not necessarily in the form you would expect! Gaynor manages to work these references into the story in a way that feels believable and not too forced.

What I liked best about this book, though, was the portrayal of life on the prairie – the sense of adventure and optimism Emily and Henry feel when they first arrive, followed by a growing awareness that things are going to be much more difficult than they’d expected. With an influx of people coming to the Great Plains in large numbers to farm the land, there’s eventually a surplus of wheat, too much to be sold, leading to a drop in prices. Worse, the overexploitation of the land and removal of the prairie grasses, combined with a prolonged drought, causes severe dust storms (known as the Dust Bowl). The hardships and challenges faced by the Gales, as well as the environmental disaster unfolding around them, forms a big part of the novel.

I’m sure a lot of the people who read this book will have been drawn to it by the links with The Wizard of Oz, but even if that doesn’t appeal to you I think there’s still enough here to make it an enjoyable work of historical fiction in its own right.

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

Love, Sex & Frankenstein by Caroline Lea

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Love is a light you can see only when you reach for it. You hold it in your hand and, for as long as the flame glows, it warms you.

I’ve read three of Caroline Lea’s previous books, all of which I found interesting, so I was looking forward to reading her new novel about the life of Mary Shelley – although I have to admit, if I hadn’t already known I liked Lea’s work, the cover and title of this one would have probably put me off. I’m glad that didn’t happen because I really enjoyed it; it’s probably my favourite of her books so far.

The main focus of the novel is the events of 1816 – known as the Year Without a Summer due to the unusual weather caused by a volcanic eruption the year before. It’s also the year that Mary Godwin and her lover, Percy Shelley, travel to Geneva with their baby son and Mary’s stepsister, Claire Clairmont. Not for the first time, Shelley’s debts have brought the bailiffs to their door and, tired of constantly moving around London to avoid them, Claire has seized the opportunity to persuade Mary and Percy to come to Switzerland with her to visit Lord Byron. Claire is convinced that Byron loves her and claims that he has been begging her to go and spend the summer with him at Lake Geneva but Mary, who is familiar with Byron’s reputation, thinks she’s deluded. However, in their desperation to escape the bailiffs, she and Shelley agree to Claire’s plan.

As they arrive at their hotel in Geneva, the foggy, oppressive weather mirrors Mary’s mood. She and Shelley seem to do nothing but argue and with no sign of Byron, Claire has turned her attentions to Mary’s lover, making no secret of what she is doing. When Byron finally does appear and the party start to spend time with him and his companion, John Polidori, at his rented home, the Villa Diodati, Mary hopes things will improve. However, the dynamics between the four of them only grow more tense and strained and Mary thinks of taking baby Willmouse and running away. Then, during a storm one evening, they gather to read ghost stories and, unimpressed, Byron issues a challenge: they should each write one of their own and see whose is best. Now Mary has something to focus on and during this difficult, emotional time, her famous novel, Frankenstein, begins to take shape.

Despite the title, the writing of Frankenstein forms only a small part of the book; instead Lea concentrates on exploring Mary’s state of mind in the period immediately before and during the creation of the novel. There’s some jumping around between timelines in the first half of the book as Lea tries to fill the reader in on Mary’s background, her childhood and the beginning of her relationship with Shelley, and I found it slightly difficult to keep track of things, but this became less of a problem later in the book when I had settled into the story.

Having read several other novels about the Shelleys and Lord Byron, I was interested to see how Lea’s portrayal of the characters would compare. As our protagonist, Mary is a complex woman but also a contradictory one. She has the strength and determination to repeatedly defy convention to be with the man she loves – the already married Shelley – while at the same time she feels trapped in her relationship with him and unable to escape. Shelley seems to love her in his own way, but is insensitive towards her and expects her just to accept his various infidelities. Mary’s relationship with Claire is equally difficult, continually switching between resentment and affection. As seen through Mary’s eyes, Claire doesn’t come across well at all in this book, flirting openly with Shelley in front of her sister then complaining when Mary later does the same with Byron. (For a more sympathetic view of Claire, try Clairmont by Lesley McDowell.) The portrayal of Byron is also largely very negative – he treats Claire appallingly, although we see a more tender side of him in his interactions with Mary.

This is definitely not a book with likeable characters, then, but the fact that they are all, like Mary, complex and contradictory is what makes them feel human and believable. It’s also beautifully written and I enjoyed reading it, despite not really learning much about Frankenstein!

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

The Surgeon’s House by Jody Cooksley

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I haven’t read any of Jody Cooksley’s previous novels, but loved the sound of her new one, The Surgeon’s House, described as a ‘thrilling Gothic historical mystery’. It’s a sequel to The Small Museum, which I wasn’t aware of until after I started reading, but I hoped that wouldn’t be a problem.

The book is set in 1883 and begins with the murder of Rose Parmiter, the cook at Evergreen House, a refuge for women and children run by Rebecca Harris and her husband, George. At first, Rebecca can’t understand why anyone would kill Rose – it seems completely senseless and inexplicable – but when more mysterious incidents follow, she begins to wonder whether the legacy of Evergreen’s former residents, the evil Dr Everley and his sister Grace, is casting a shadow over the house. But Everley is dead and Grace confined to an asylum, so how could they possibly have anything to do with the events of the present day?

Meanwhile, Rebecca is trying to concentrate on providing a safe and happy home for ‘fallen women’ and their illegitimate children, but she faces opposition from Mr Lavell of the Charity Board who insists she is being too lenient. He believes the children belong in an orphanage and the mothers should be made to study the Bible and take in laundry to pay for their bed and board. Rebecca is determined to prove that her method is better, but when more people are found dead at Evergreen House she begins to fear that this will give Mr Lavell an excuse to take control of the refuge for himself.

I found a lot of things to like about The Surgeon’s House, but it took me a long time to get into it because such a large portion of the first half of the book was devoted to filling the reader in on the plot of The Small Museum. It seemed to me that the author was more interested in explaining what happened in the previous novel, what the characters had been doing in the intervening years and how they had coped with their traumatic experiences than she was in moving forward with the plot of this novel. It made me think I should have just read The Small Museum instead. Things did eventually start to move on, though, and by the middle of the book it had become much more compelling.

The setting was interesting as it reminded me a lot of Urania Cottage, the women’s shelter founded by Charles Dickens and Angela Burdett-Coutts which Stacey Halls wrote about in her recent novel, The Household – and I think if you liked that book, there’s a good chance you’ll like this one as well. Rebecca’s conflict with Mr Lavell forms a big part of the story, as she tries to keep her vision for Evergreen House alive despite his insistence that it should be run on the same model as the notorious Magdalene Laundries (which again reminded me of another book I’ve read, Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan).

The mystery element of the book, as I’ve said, was slow to develop at first but became stronger later on. There are some chapters written from the perspective of Grace in her asylum and we also meet Dr Threlfall, a psychiatrist who has a ‘clinic’ in the basement of Evergreen House where he is carrying out research and experiments. It’s an interesting novel, then, with lots of different threads to it, but I felt that these threads didn’t all come together as well as they could have done. It’s possible that I would have enjoyed this book more if I’d already read the first one, so it hasn’t necessarily put me off reading more of Jody Cooksley’s work.

Thanks to Allison & Busby for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

The Cardinal by Alison Weir

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In a market crowded with Tudor fiction, it’s difficult to find something new and different. This novel about Cardinal Wolsey – although maybe not the only one to be written about him – at least gives us the perspective of a prominent Tudor figure other than Henry VIII and his six wives. As with Hilary Mantel’s Thomas Cromwell novels, the focus is on politics, the forging and breaking of alliances with foreign powers, rivalries within the King’s inner circle and, above all, the rise and fall of a clever, ambitious man. We are also given some insight into Wolsey’s personal life as he is forced to choose between his career and the woman he loves.

The Cardinal covers Thomas Wolsey’s entire life, beginning with his childhood in Suffolk. Thomas – or Tom as he is known throughout the book – is the son of a yeoman farmer who also owns an inn and a butcher’s shop. However, Tom proves to be academically gifted from an early age, so instead of going into one of the family businesses he is sent to study at Oxford. At only eleven years old, he is much younger than the other students and is expected to have a bright future. Nobody could have predicted just how bright, as after making the decision to enter the church, Tom catches the eye of several influential patrons and rapidly gains wealth and power, becoming a trusted friend and adviser of first Henry VII, then Henry VIII.

Wolsey’s positions include Lord Chancellor, Bishop of York, cardinal and papal legate, and he begins to construct for himself a magnificent palace, Hampton Court. Needless to say, he quickly incurs the jealousy and resentment of other courtiers and Weir shows us how he systematically goes about bringing down his enemies and ensuring that he remains closer to the King than anyone else. Eventually he meets his match in Anne Boleyn, who has reasons of her own to dislike him. Anne is very much the villain in this book, which seems to be the case in most of Weir’s Tudor novels, probably due to the perspectives from which they’re written. Anne Boleyn, a King’s Obsession gives a more nuanced portrayal.

I loved the first half of the book, dealing with Wolsey’s early life and career, as there was a lot of material here that I had never read about in much detail before. I was also interested in the character of Joan Larke, the woman with whom Tom falls in love just as he’s beginning his rise to power. His position in the church makes it impossible for them to live together openly and he is forced to watch as she marries another man, unable to acknowledge the children he has had with her. I couldn’t feel too sorry for him, though, because he could have given up his career for her and chose not to. My sympathies were more with Joan (who would probably make a good subject for a novel in her own right, even if a lot would have to be invented as factual information on her seems quite limited).

The second half of the book is mainly devoted to Henry VIII’s Great Matter – his attempts to divorce Katherine of Aragon so that he can marry Anne Boleyn. Having already read about this several times in Weir’s other novels, from the perspectives of Katherine, Anne, Henry and Mary I, I didn’t really feel the need to read about it again so this part of the book dragged a little bit for me. Apart from that, I did enjoy The Cardinal and its portrayal of Thomas Wolsey. I’ll be interested to see which Tudor figure Alison Weir writes about next – or whether she’ll move away from that period and do something different.

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