Category: Historical Fiction

Cuddy by Benjamin Myers

15 Comments

Cuddy is a nickname given to St Cuthbert, the Anglo-Saxon monk, bishop, hermit and saint who lived during the 7th century. He is associated with the island of Lindisfarne (Holy Island), where he spent many years of his life, and with Durham Cathedral, where he is buried, and these are both places I have visited several times, which is what drew me to this novel by Benjamin Myers. The publisher’s description of it as “a bold and experimental retelling of the story of the hermit St. Cuthbert” made me reconsider, as I’ve discovered over the years that experimental books usually aren’t for me, but I decided to give it a chance anyway.

The first section of the book is set in 995, more than three hundred years after the death of St Cuthbert, and is told from the perspective of Ediva, a young woman who accompanies a group of monks as they transport Cuddy’s remains to his new resting place in Durham. We then move forward several centuries in time and join the masons who are repairing the cathedral stonework in 1346. The third section is a ghost story set in 1827 when an Oxford professor, Forbes Fawcett-Black, is invited to attend the opening of Cuthbert’s tomb. Finally, the last part of the book introduces us to Michael Cuthbert, a young man living in a village near Durham in 2019 who is offered a job as a labourer during restoration work at the cathedral.

Each of the four parts could work as a standalone story, but there are also several links between the four, some of which are easy to spot and some that are more obscure. There’s always an ‘Ediva’-type character – one who fills the role of cook or healer, who sees visions and hears the voice of Cuddy – and there’s always a young man with owl-like eyes:

He has brilliant wide eyes that peer into your very
centre
Eyes that seem not to blink. Eyes that one day are
blue
and the next jade, then anthracite and once, red.

The quote above, describing the ‘Owl Boy’, is an example of the writing in the first section of the book, which takes the style of a narrative poem. I don’t think I could have read a whole book written like this, but could cope with it for a few chapters and I thought it was quite effective in creating a mystical, dreamlike atmosphere that suited the time period and the story being told. Myers also finds an appropriate voice and style for each of the other parts of the novel – for example, the 19th century ghost story, The Corpse in the Cathedral, is told through the diary entries of the Professor and is written in a very formal style which suits his character.

My favourite part of the book was actually the modern day story at the end. I loved Michael Cuthbert, who is struggling to care for his dying mother at home while trying to support them both by taking whatever work he can get, and I enjoyed watching him form a friendship with Evie, a kindhearted young woman who works in the cathedral restaurant. I found Michael and Evie’s story very moving and would have been happy to have read a whole book about them!

As for St Cuthbert himself, his own story is related to us through brief excerpts from a wide range of sources including books, essays and articles which are all acknowledged at the end of the book. It’s a lot to take in and digest and I think to really understand who Cuthbert was and why he is significant you would probably need to read some of those sources in full. However, this is a good introduction!

Thanks to Bloomsbury Publishing Plc for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Book 4/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

The Spendthrift and the Swallow by Ambrose Parry

4 Comments

I loved the first four novels in Ambrose Parry’s Raven and Fisher mystery series and although there doesn’t currently seem to be any news of a fifth, I was pleased to come across this digital short story available free for Kindle. It fits into the series chronologically between the third and fourth books but if you come to it late, as I did, it doesn’t matter at all as it works as a standalone story.

Ambrose Parry is a pseudonym used by the crime author Chris Brookmyre and his wife Dr Marisa Haetzman, a consultant anaesthetist. Marisa’s knowledge is crucial to the series, which is set against the backdrop of the medical world of 19th century Edinburgh. Our two main characters are Dr Will Raven, assistant to the renowned Scottish obstetrician Dr James Simpson, and Sarah Fisher, who also assists at Simpson’s clinic but is struggling to find a way to achieve her own dream of becoming a doctor. Each book in the series features a mystery to be solved, as well as details of Victorian medical procedures and treatments.

The Spendthrift and the Swallow is only 52 pages long, including a preview for Voices of the Dead, and can easily be read in about twenty minutes. The story is set in January 1853 and we follow Will and Sarah as they investigate the death of one of Dr Simpson’s patients, Cora Carlton, the wife of an entrepreneur. The circumstances of Cora’s sudden death could raise questions over the doctor’s medical abilities, so Will and Sarah hope to uncover the truth quickly enough to save his reputation. Meanwhile, Simpson has begun experimenting with the increasingly popular science of mesmerism and places a loud and difficult patient under hypnosis with startling results. I was interested to read in the author’s note at the end of the book that both of these incidents were based on real historical cases.

If you’re new to the Raven and Fisher books, reading this story first wouldn’t be a problem as it doesn’t really spoil anything from the main series and it’s a satisfying mystery in its own right. However, it’s too short for any character development or any background information to help you understand the relationship between Sarah and Will and what has happened to them up to this point. My recommendation is to start with the first full-length novel, The Way of all Flesh. For existing Parry readers, though, this is an entertaining little book and provides an introduction to the mesmerism storyline that will play such a big part in Voices of the Dead.

Book 3/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

The Beholders by Hester Musson

7 Comments

‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ and the cover of this debut novel by Hester Musson is certainly a beautiful thing to behold.

We begin in June 1878 with Clara Gethin on trial at London’s Old Bailey for the murder of her own child, whose body has been pulled from the River Thames. As the wife of a highly respected politician who has provided evidence against her, things look very bleak for Clara, but there’s one person who believes – or at least wants to believe – in her innocence. This is Harriet Watkins, her lady’s maid and the only friend she has in the world.

We then go back several months to Harriet’s arrival in Clara’s household following the death of her previous employer. Her mother wants her to return home to marry her fiancé, but Harriet isn’t at all convinced that William is the man she wants to spend her life with, so instead she accepts a new position as housemaid at Finton Hall, the Gethins’ Hertfordshire estate. When Harriet begins her new job, she quickly senses that something is very wrong at Finton Hall. The housekeeper is hostile and unwelcoming, the footman seems to be hiding secrets, and the master, although largely absent, casts a shadow over the entire household. Harriet makes an effort to befriend her new mistress and is rewarded with promotion to lady’s maid, but she is concerned by Clara’s lack of affection for her baby son and her habit of dismissing servants seemingly on a whim.

The story unfolds through the pages of Harriet’s diary as she gives her account of her early days at Finton Hall and the things she experiences and observes there. The diary entries are long and detailed – sometimes more detailed than they really need to be – but otherwise the format is a good way to convey Harriet’s growing sense of unease as she learns more about what is really going on within the Gethin household. However, I think I’ve read too many similar books recently, because I found it easy to guess what was happening and wasn’t surprised at all when it was revealed. It also seemed to take far too long to reach that point – the first half of the book consists of a lot of very slow build-up and there were times when I struggled to stay engaged.

The pace picks up in the second half as the action finally moves outside the confines of the house and we learn more about the fate of Clara Gethin’s baby. This part of the book felt more original and I was less able to predict what was going to happen; I also liked the romantic storyline which developed towards the end – although it felt slightly rushed, the love interest was not the person I’d expected earlier in the book and I was glad the author hadn’t gone in that direction. Overall, I think my feelings about The Beholders are more positive than negative; I just wish it hadn’t taken so long for the plot to emerge!

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

Book 2/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

Silence by Shūsaku Endō

27 Comments

Translated by William Johnston

One of my resolutions for 2024 is to read more historical fiction in translation and where better to start than with a book for the Japanese Literature Challenge (hosted by Dolce Bellezza throughout January and February).

First published in Japanese in 1966 and in English in 1969, Shūsaku Endō’s Silence is set in the 17th century and tells the story of a Portuguese Jesuit priest, Sebastian Rodrigues, who travels to Japan to investigate claims that his old mentor, Father Ferreira, has committed apostasy – in other words, renounced his faith. Rodrigues and his friend Francisco Garrpe, another priest, can’t believe that their teacher would do such a thing. Certain that there must be some mistake, the two set out from Lisbon on the long journey to Japan, where they hope to learn what has really happened to Ferreira.

Rodrigues and Garrpe reach Japan in 1639 and quickly discover that the local Christian communities are being persecuted and forced to hide their religion from the authorities. Anyone the officials suspect of being a Christian is told to trample on an image of Christ, known as a fumie, and if they refuse they are imprisoned and tortured by being suspended upside down over a pit. On his arrival in Japan, Rodrigues goes into hiding with the other Christians, carrying out his missionary work and helping them to worship in secret, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before he is caught and has his own faith put to the test.

Silence is both beautifully written and beautifully translated. From beginning to end, I was completely immersed in another time and place; there’s no jarringly modern language to pull the reader out of the story and everything feels authentic and real. I was intrigued by Endō’s decision to write the novel from the perspective of Rodrigues (first in the form of letters written by the priest and then in the third person) rather than the Japanese Christians and it was interesting to see how Endō viewed his country, its people and its customs through the eyes of a stranger.

I am not a particularly religious person but you don’t need to be to be able to appreciate this novel. I was very moved by the internal struggles Rodrigues faces as he begins to question why God is remaining silent in the midst of so much torture and persecution and whether renouncing his faith, under certain circumstances, could actually be the right thing to do if it helps alleviate the suffering of others. As you can imagine, it’s quite a bleak story, but I loved it and although it’s only been a few days since I finished it, I don’t think it’s a book I’ll ever forget. I would like to try more of Endō’s work and am pleased to see that some of his other novels are also available in English translations.

I read this book for the Japanese Literature Challenge 17 and the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

The Witch’s Daughter by Imogen Edwards-Jones

4 Comments

“I have been enamoured of this country and this city for so long. The Venice of the north. How I have loved every golden dome, every frozen canal, every ballet, every concert, every wonderful person I have ever met. This country takes your soul, it takes it away and it doesn’t ever give it back.”

Imogen Edwards-Jones’ new novel, The Witch’s Daughter, is the sequel to 2018’s The Witches of St Petersburg, but I don’t think it’s essential to read them in order. The first book tells the story of Princesses Militza and Stana of Montenegro, who marry into the Russian aristocracy and introduce Rasputin to the Romanov court. This one begins with the murder of Rasputin, then moves on to follow Militza’s daughter, Nadezhda, throughout the Russian Revolution.

As the novel opens in December 1916, Tsar Nicholas II is preoccupied with Russia’s involvement in World War I when news breaks out in Petrograd of Rasputin’s murder. However, the war is soon going to be the least of the Tsar’s troubles because Rasputin has left behind a letter predicting the death and destruction of Nicholas himself and the entire Romanov family. As unrest and violence breaks out on the streets of Petrograd, it seems that the prophecy is starting to come true and Princess Nadezhda finds herself caught up in it all.

Unlike the first book, which took as its premise the idea that Militza and Stana were ‘witches’ who believe they have conjured up Rasputin through black magic, this one – despite the title – involves almost no magic at all. It could be misleading for those who pick it up specifically hoping for a story about witchcraft, but I preferred the more serious tone of this book. I can’t tell you whether everything that happens is historically accurate or not, because I don’t know – the Russian Revolution is not a period I’ve ever studied or read very much about – but I think it works well as a general overview of the situation and the feeling of the Russian people towards the Romanovs and the aristocracy. Edwards-Jones doesn’t shy away from describing the violence and brutality as tensions boil over on the streets and simple demands for ‘peace, land and bread’ spiral into a larger revolutionary movement.

Although the focus is on Nadezhda’s family, and the sequence of events that lead them to flee St Petersburg for the relative safety of the Crimea, The Witch’s Daughter has a large number of other characters and they are all listed at the front of the book in case you have trouble keeping track of the relationships between the various Princes and Princesses, Grand Dukes and Grand Duchesses. The character who interested me the most, however, was Bertie Stopford, a British antiques and art dealer who has some sort of unspecified connection with the War Office and engages in some spying and smuggling on behalf of his friend, the Grand Duchess Vladimir. Bertie was a real person, although I don’t think I’ve read about him before; he seems to have led a very eventful life and is the author of an anonymously published memoir, The Russian Diary of an Englishman: Petrograd 1915–1917, which I’m sure must be fascinating.

I’m not expecting a third book in this series as everything seemed to be tied up nicely at the end, but I’m pleased to have had the opportunity to learn a little bit about Nadezhda and her family.

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

Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt by Lucinda Riley and Harry Whittaker

10 Comments

In 2014, Lucinda Riley published The Seven Sisters, the first of a seven book series, with each book telling the story of one of the seven daughters of a mysterious billionaire they know only as Pa Salt. Six of the girls were adopted by Pa Salt as babies and although they came from different countries and cultures, they all grew up together at Atlantis, Pa’s beautiful estate by Lake Geneva in Switzerland. They are each named after one of the stars in the Pleiades, or ‘Seven Sisters’, star cluster – Maia, Alycone (Ally), Asterope (Star), Celaeno (CeCe), Taygete (Tiggy) and Electra D’Aplièse. The seventh sister, Merope, was never brought home to Atlantis and we found out why in the seventh book of the series, The Missing Sister.

Shortly after the publication of The Missing Sister in 2021 came the sad news that Lucinda Riley had died following a long battle with cancer…and then the happier news that she had been planning an eighth book about the D’Aplièse family and had left her notes with her son, Harry Whittaker, to be completed after her death. Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt is the result. This book should definitely be read after the other seven, but I think I’ve managed to review it here without spoiling anything, so if you’re new to the series it’s safe to read on!

Most of the earlier books in the series started in the same way, with the D’Aplièse sisters mourning the death of Pa Salt in 2007 and learning that he had left each of them a set of clues to point them in the direction of their biological parents. Each novel would then focus on one sister as she traced her family history and discovered her own heritage. In Atlas: The Story of Pa Salt, it’s now 2008 and all of the sisters and their partners have gathered on board Pa’s yacht, the Titan, to sail out into the Aegean to mark the anniversary of his death. However, Pa’s lawyer, Georg Hoffman, has one more surprise for them – a copy of Pa Salt’s diary, intended to be read by his daughters after his death.

The novel alternates between the modern day storyline set on the Titan and the story that unfolds through the diary of a little boy called Atlas who is found sheltering under a hedge in a Paris garden one day in 1928, starving and exhausted. He is taken in by the kind-hearted Landowski family who provide him with a home and an education, but it is not until many years later that he is able to begin to open up about the traumas of his past and his fear that he is still being pursued by a man who wants to kill him. It is this fear that eventually leads him to leave Paris and flee once again, but he quickly discovers that nowhere is safe and his pursuer will manage to track him down no matter where he hides. As he takes refuge in first one country then another, Atlas forms friendships with the ancestors of the girls he will later come to adopt and who will know him as their beloved Pa Salt.

This is a book where a lot of suspension of disbelief is necessary, from the number of characters with names that are ridiculous anagrams from Greek myth – including Atlas Tanit (Titan) and his enemy Kreeg Eszu (Greek Zeus), whose parents happen to be Cronus and Rhea – to the idea that so many people with connections to Pa Salt have babies in need of adoption. The events that lead to his adoptions of Electra and CeCe are particularly hard to believe. The earlier books in the series are also scattered with metaphors, symbolism and coincidences, but they are much more heavy-handed in this book. Still, I managed to overlook those things because at this stage of the series I just wanted to know how everything would be resolved and whether the theories I had been forming about Pa Salt and the other characters were correct.

I’m not sure exactly how much input Lucinda Riley and Harry Whittaker each had into this book, but I do think Whittaker does a good job of capturing his mother’s writing style; there are only a few occasions where it feels obvious that it’s not the same author, mainly where the dialogue between the sisters doesn’t feel quite right. I don’t want to be too critical, though, because we’re lucky to have this book at all and I’m sure it must have been a difficult task for Harry. Although there are some plot holes and some questions that aren’t answered very satisfactorily, overall I was impressed by how well all the separate threads from the previous seven books are brought together in this one. My only real complaint is that there wasn’t a happier ending for one particular character. Anyone who reads this book will know who I mean!

Have you read any books completed by a different author after the original author’s death? What did you think?

The Figurine by Victoria Hislop

8 Comments

‘Every object, whether it’s old, new, beautiful or even ugly, has a life. A starting point, a journey, a story, Whatever you want to call it. Some have places where they really belong, which is different from the location where they find themselves.’

In her new novel, The Figurine, Victoria Hislop tackles the subject of the theft and smuggling of art and antiquities, a problem that has existed for centuries and sadly is still making news headlines today. As Hislop explains in her foreword to the book, ‘the theft of cultural treasures and the falsification of provenance diminishes our understanding of civilisation’. The Figurine explores this topic through the eyes of Helena McCloud, a young woman with a Greek mother and Scottish father.

We first meet Helena in 1968 as an eight-year-old child arriving in Athens to visit her grandparents for the first time. Her mother was born and raised in Greece, but she doesn’t accompany Helena on this trip and appears to have been estranged from her family for many years, although at this point we don’t know why. Everything is new and strange to Helena, but during this visit – and more to follow over the next few summers – she begins to fall in love with Greece and to develop loving relationships with her grandmother and the housekeeper, Dina. Her grandfather, however, remains a cold, remote figure and her dislike of him grows as she discovers that he has connections with the military dictatorship currently in control of the country.

Helena’s summers in Greece come to an end in the 1970s due to political turmoil and by the time it’s safe to return, her grandparents are no longer alive. Heading to Athens to inspect the apartment she has inherited from them, she makes another shocking discovery about her grandfather, this time relating to his involvement in the looting of valuable historical artefacts. Helena’s own interest in antiquities has already led her to take part in an archaeological dig on an island in the Aegean Sea. Can she use her newly gained knowledge to make amends for what her grandfather has done?

This is the third Victoria Hislop novel I’ve read, after Those Who Are Loved, also set in Greece, and The Sunrise, set during the Turkish invasion of Cyprus, and although I didn’t enjoy it as much as those two books, it was still a fascinating story. As well as the exploration of cultural theft and its impact on world heritage, we also learn a lot about the political situation in Greece during the 1960s and 70s and of course, there are lots of beautiful descriptions of the country itself. While there are some horrible characters in the novel, Helena also makes several friends and I loved watching her bond with her grandparents’ servant, Dina – I enjoyed seeing them sneak out onto the streets of Athens in search of somewhere to view the 1969 moon landing, because her grandfather has cruelly removed the television to stop them from watching this historic event.

My main problem with this book was the length; I felt that there were lots of scenes that added very little to the overall story and could easily have been left out. I also found some parts of the plot predictable and others very unrealistic, particularly towards the end of the book where Helena and her friends decide to take matters into their own hands when it would surely have been much more sensible just to have gone to the police.

Although this isn’t a favourite Hislop novel, I do have another one, The Thread, on my shelf which I’m looking forward to reading.

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