Category: Historical Fiction

The Water Child by Mathew West

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I enjoyed Mathew West’s first novel, The House of Footsteps, an eerie ghost story set in the 1920s, so I was looking forward to reading his new book, The Water Child. It’s quite different, in both setting and tone, but overall I liked this one as well.

The Water Child is set in Portugal in 1754. Cecilia Lamb is anxiously awaiting the return of her husband John, a Scottish sea captain, who has been away on his latest voyage for much longer than expected. It seems likely that the ship has been wrecked and John is dead, but Cecilia hasn’t given up hope. She spends her days wandering the docks, staring out to sea, certain that her husband is still out there somewhere.

As a young woman alone in an unfamiliar country, this is a difficult time for Cecilia and she struggles to come to terms with John’s absence, beginning to have visions, to hear voices and to suffer from a mysterious sickness. Until she knows for certain that her husband won’t come back, she is unable to mourn or to make arrangements to return to her own family in England – and even if he does come back, will he still be the same person he was when he went away?

Mathew West writes beautifully and creates an almost hypnotic atmosphere as Cecilia moves from one day to the next as if in a dream, watching and waiting, trapped in time until she receives some definite news and can start to move forward. Despite the long absence of her husband (and I’m not going to tell you whether he ever reappears or not), Cecilia does form other relationships – with her maid, Rosalie, and with some other women who understand what it’s like to be the wife of a sailor, while at the same time not fully understanding what is going on inside Cecilia’s mind. West’s previous book had much stronger supernatural elements, but in this one they’re a lot more subtle and it’s open to interpretation whether you think the things Cecilia sees and hears have paranormal explanations or more practical ones.

There are some lovely and vivid descriptions of 1750s Portugal, so I was intrigued by Mathew West’s comments at the end of the book that the Portugal he describes probably never existed and owes as much to fantasy as reality, although he also says that he carried out a lot of research into certain details. I don’t have much knowledge of Portugal in that period (the only other book I’ve read with the same setting is Linda Holeman’s novel, The Devil on Her Tongue), so I would have been interested to hear more about what was real and what was fictional.

There’s one more thing I want to mention; I don’t usually give trigger warnings for books, but there is a brief scene of animal cruelty towards the end of the book which doesn’t really feel necessary and I’m sure the author could have found another way to illustrate the cruelty of the person involved. Otherwise, The Water Child is a dark, unsettling and fascinating novel, slow to begin but picking up pace towards the end. I’ll be interested to see what setting Mathew West chooses next, having written two such different books so far.

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

This is book 46/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

The Wayward Sisters by Kate Hodges

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It’s 1769 and Nancy Lockaby is on her way to Inverness where she has been invited to stay with the renowned Shakespearean scholar, Caleb Malles, to help him with his research. Nancy is a keen astronomer who has been developing a theory of her late mother’s involving an astronomical phenomenon known as ‘the Fold’ – a theory that has provoked the scorn and derision of her male colleagues at the Greenwich Observatory. Nancy isn’t sure what her role will be in Caleb’s work as she has little interest in literature, but she welcomes the opportunity to get away from the hostile atmosphere of the Observatory for a while and start a new life in Scotland.

Arriving at the large, crumbling Blackthistle House with her maid, Cora, on a cold, snowy night, Nancy is immediately unsettled by the atmosphere. Why are there lights flashing in the window of a turret? Who are the three strange women she sees in the darkness as her carriage approaches the house? Once she settles in, however, she becomes fascinated by Caleb Malles and his passion for Shakespeare’s Macbeth. She also gets to know the three women she glimpsed in the dark and finds them less threatening as she learns more of their backgrounds. But is it true that they have lived for many centuries and possess special powers? And what is Caleb’s real reason for bringing Nancy to Blackthistle House?

The Wayward Sisters is Kate Hodges’ first novel, having previously written several non-fiction books. You never really know what to expect when trying a new author and I had mixed feelings about this book, but generally more positive than negative. The first half is slow, but has a wonderfully eerie, Gothic atmosphere as Hodges sets the scene and introduces the characters. There’s a particularly memorable scene where Nancy encounters some sinister crows during a snowstorm! I had expected elements of Macbeth to be more deeply woven into the plot, but they really aren’t, apart from the presence of the three women, who clearly represent Shakespeare’s three witches, the Weird (or Wayward) Sisters. The witches have more nuance here than in the play, with each being given a detailed backstory of her own.

Kate Hodges writes very well and there are some nice descriptions to bring the Scottish setting to life, although I was surprised that the recent Jacobite Rebellions were barely mentioned as they must surely have still been having an impact on the lives of the Highlanders in the 1760s. Nancy is an interesting heroine; astronomy is an area of science where women could and did make an impact in the 18th century (the most famous female astronomer of that period was probably Caroline Herschel, the first woman to discover a comet) although it was obviously still a male-dominated field and difficult for women to be taken seriously. However, Nancy’s theories regarding the Fold begin to take the story into the realms of science fiction, particularly when the witches get involved and we discover Caleb’s motives for enlisting the services of an astronomer.

I think I would have enjoyed this book more if it had continued as the atmospheric historical fiction novel it seemed to be at first, rather than the more fantastical story it became. There’s a lot to like about The Wayward Sisters, but it wasn’t really the right book for me.

Thanks to Hodder & Stoughton for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This is book 45/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

Scarlet Town by Leonora Nattrass

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Scarlet Town is the third book in Leonora Nattrass’s Laurence Jago series set in the final decade of the 18th century. I enjoyed the first two books – Black Drop and Blue Water – and this one is another strong entry in the series.

It’s 1796 and Laurence Jago, accompanied by his friend, the journalist William Philpott, has just returned from his voyage to America (described in Blue Water). Jago, once a clerk in the Foreign Office, is now apprenticed to Philpott and is grateful to his friend for the opportunity, while at the same time angry with him for causing his beloved dog, Mr Gibbs, to be left behind in Philadelphia! Back in England again, they head for Jago’s home town of Helston in Cornwall, intending to visit his cousin Pythagoras (affectionately known as Piggy). On arrival in Helston, however, they are shocked by what they find. Not only does wig-wearing appear to have fallen out of fashion during their absence, but the entire town seems to be caught up in the fever of the upcoming election.

Helston is known as a ‘rotten borough’, where only two men in the town are allowed to vote – and one of these two electors has died under suspicious circumstances. It seems that someone is also attempting to kill the remaining elector, so the town’s patron, the Duke of Leeds, asks Laurence to investigate – but to Laurence’s dismay, his own beloved cousin Piggy begins to emerge as the number one suspect. Will he be able to prove Piggy’s innocence and find the real culprit? And who will win the election if both of the Duke’s electors are unable to vote?

According to the author’s note, the situation described in the book (without the deaths/murder attempts) is based on an election that actually did take place in Helston in the 1790s. Several of the characters are people who really existed, including Sir James Burges, the Duke’s candidate for Parliament, and Stephen Lushington (chairman of the East India Company), the alternative candidate put forward by the town’s mayor – and the novel’s title refers to the red ribbons and silks worn by supporters of the mayor’s candidate as opposed to the blue worn by supporters of the Duke’s. I remember learning about the rotten boroughs at school and the events portrayed in this book perfectly illustrate why electoral reform was so desperately needed. Many people complain about today’s electoral system, but the people of Helston were dealing with a system so corrupt that only a tiny minority were making decisions that affected everyone else, where there was no secret ballot and votes could be bought and sold, leaving the electors open to bribery and blackmail.

As well as the fascinating historical setting, I also found the murder mystery quite compelling; it was maybe not as enjoyable as the mystery in Blue Water, and there were times when I felt it became a bit too complicated, but it was intriguing and kept me guessing until the end. Nattrass also lightens the mood with some humour in the form of Toby the Sapient Hog (based on a real performing pig). I love the 18th century world she has created in this series – everything feels so authentic and thoroughly researched. I’m not sure if there’s going to be a fourth book, but if there is then I can’t wait to read it.

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

This is book 44/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

Once a Monster by Robert Dinsdale

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Novels inspired by Greek mythology seem to have become very popular in recent years, but Robert Dinsdale’s new book, Once a Monster, is something slightly different. More reimagining than retelling, it’s set in Victorian London and owes as much to Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist as it does to Greek myth.

Ten-year-old Nell Hart is a mudlark, one of a small group of children, orphaned or otherwise neglected and vulnerable, who spend their days searching through the mud of the River Thames for ‘treasures’ – pieces of coal or iron – to give to their master, Benjamin Murdstone. It’s a difficult life for a child, but Nell has a pair of satin ballet slippers hidden inside her straw mattress, a gift left to her by her seamstress mother, and she is sustained by dreams of one day becoming a ballerina.

One morning, Nell is the first down to the river to begin another day of mudlarking and so she is the first to discover a body washed up on the shore. At first she’s unmoved by the sight – it’s not the first dead body she’s seen – but on closer inspection she discovers that this is the body of no ordinary man. Unusually tall, with enormous hands and feet, there are strange growths on each side of the head, almost like the beginnings of horns. The other mudlarks have arrived and are urging Nell to steal the man’s boots, when she makes another shocking discovery – he is still alive.

His name is Minos and as he returns to consciousness, memories slowly begin to surface of a time long ago and another life as a Minotaur in a labyrinth. But is Minos really the Minotaur of Greek myth or is he just a man after all? What will Murdstone do when he sees what Nell has found for him – and will Nell ever break free of her mudlark existence and learn to dance?

This is the first book I’ve read by Robert Dinsdale so I didn’t know what to expect, but I found it beautifully written and atmospheric. As I’ve mentioned, there’s a strong Dickens influence, from the descriptions of the poorer parts of Victorian London to the portrayal of Mr Murdstone, who is obviously inspired by Fagin, the leader of the gang of pickpockets in Oliver Twist. As the villain of the novel, he’s a very human monster and it quickly becomes clear that a central theme of the story is that every one of us can have a monster inside us as well as a hero. Dinsdale uses the myth of the Minotaur to explore and develop this theory:

“The mythographers were a cowardly lot. Just storytellers, trying to make sense of a world too complex to be distilled in mere words…But when it came to chronicling these stories for the ages, the Minotaur presented them with the thorniest of problems. To look him in the eye and see him for anything other than a base beast must have been like peering into a looking glass. They would have had to acknowledge the monstrosity in all of us.”

I found the relationship between Nell and Minos slightly disturbing; it wasn’t really a romantic relationship but it felt like more than just a platonic friendship or a father/daughter relationship and I kept forgetting that while Minos was an adult (possibly many hundreds of years old), Nell was only a ten-year-old child. The interactions and conversations between the two of them felt more what I would have expected if Nell had been a teenager or young woman rather than a little girl. Apart from that, I did think both characters were interesting; I enjoyed following Nell as she took her first steps towards becoming a ballerina and although I found Minos harder to connect with, I was intrigued by his story and by his memories of his time as the Minotaur.

My main problem with this book was the length; there were too many long and repetitive sections where the pace slowed and nothing really happened to advance the plot. I read the ebook but the print version has over 500 pages and I think that could easily have been cut down to 400 without losing anything important. Still, I did find this an interesting novel overall and would consider trying one of Robert Dinsdale’s earlier books.

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

This is book 43/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

The Nonesuch by Georgette Heyer – #1962Club

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When looking for books to read for this week’s 1962 Club (hosted by Karen and Simon), I hoped there would be a Georgette Heyer I hadn’t read yet – and there was! Like Agatha Christie and Georges Simenon, you can nearly always rely on Heyer to have had at least one book published in whatever the current club year is. The Nonesuch was published in 1962 and I’ve managed to read it just in time to squeeze in my review on the final day!

A nonesuch can be defined as ‘a person or thing without equal’ and Sir Waldo Hawkridge, hero of Heyer’s novel, certainly fits that description – at least in the eyes of fashionable Regency society. Being rich, handsome, athletic and an eligible bachelor, his sudden arrival in the quiet Yorkshire village of Oversett causes quite a stir. He has recently inherited the estate of Broom Hall and has come to inspect it, accompanied by his younger cousin, Lord Lindeth. Ancilla Trent, governess to the beautiful Tiffany Wield, has already formed an opinion of the Nonesuch before she even meets him, but is surprised to find that he’s not really what she expected at all. Ancilla is quickly won over by Sir Waldo’s kindness and calm, sensible nature and he in turn is drawn to the quiet, unassuming governess. However, they are both alarmed when Lindeth seems to be falling for the charms of the lovely but spoiled Tiffany!

The Nonesuch doesn’t really have a lot of plot – unlike many of Heyer’s other novels, there are no encounters with highwaymen, no duels, no masked balls, no abductions or elopements – and the focus instead is on country life and the relationships between the two or three Yorkshire families at the heart of the story. Heyer is often compared to Jane Austen, of course, but I found this book particularly reminiscent of Pride and Prejudice. I tend to prefer her livelier, funnier stories, like The Corinthian or Sprig Muslin, but I did still enjoy following Ancilla and Sir Waldo and watching their relationship develop. Heyer does throw in a misunderstanding to stir things up, but otherwise their romance is completely believable and it’s easy to see why each would be attracted to the other.

In contrast to Ancilla Trent, whom I liked very much, Tiffany Wield is an awful character – selfish, vain, and prone to throwing tantrums when things don’t go her way. It was such a relief when it became clear that she wasn’t going to be the novel’s ‘heroine’, so I didn’t need to try to like her. And I did find myself enjoying her storyline later in the book, after Sir Waldo’s other young cousin, Laurence Calver, arrives from London and Tiffany finds she has met her match!

The Nonesuch doesn’t rank as a favourite by Heyer, but I’m still pleased I managed to fit it in for 1962 Club. I did love the rural Yorkshire setting, which made a change from the more common Regency novel settings of London or Bath.

This is book 42/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

Night Train to Marrakech by Dinah Jefferies

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Night Train to Marrakech is the third and final book in Dinah Jefferies’ Daughters of War trilogy, but if you haven’t read the previous two books that shouldn’t be a problem as I think this one would also work well as a standalone. While Daughters of War and The Hidden Palace followed the stories of the three Baudin sisters, Hélène, Élise and Florence, during World War II, this third novel moves forward to the 1960s to focus on Élise’s daughter, Vicky.

In July 1966, Vicky Baudin arrives in Morocco to visit her grandmother for the first time. Having lost her father during the war, Vicky has only recently discovered that his mother, Clemence, is still alive and living in the mountains outside Marrakech. Vicky has just received a diploma in fashion design from a London art college, so this seems like a good time to travel abroad before beginning a postgraduate course in Paris. As her train arrives at Marrakech station, Vicky is looking forward to getting to know Clemence – and is determined to find a way to meet her hero, the French designer Yves Saint Laurent, who also lives in Marrakech.

In her mountain home, the Kasbah du Paradis, Clemence is awaiting her long-lost granddaughter’s arrival with mixed emotions. Vicky will want to know why she played no part in her son’s life and Clemence doesn’t feel ready to explain. However, she’s forced to confront the memories she’s tried so hard to forget when a man from her past reappears, threatening to reveal her secrets. Meanwhile, Vicky and her cousin Bea also stumble into trouble when they become witnesses to a crime.

Night Train to Marrakech has a much stronger thriller element than the previous two books, which I found quite surprising. The novel is set against a backdrop of rising political tensions – a few months before the novel begins, the Moroccan revolutionary Mehdi Ben Barka is abducted in Paris (a real life incident) – and although this doesn’t form a large part of the plot, it does give a sense of the danger for two young women who unintentionally become mixed up in a situation they don’t fully understand. The descriptions of Morocco itself – the scenery, the buildings, the food, the sounds and smells – are also beautifully done.

The three sisters from the first two books (Vicky’s mother, Élise, and her two aunts, Hélène and Florence) do eventually make an appearance in this one, but I was disappointed that we don’t see very much of them. This is very much Vicky’s story and Clemence’s, and although having two completely new characters to get to know so late in the trilogy unsettled me slightly, I did warm to them later in the book. I found Clemence in particular an intriguing character as she seems so cold and secretive at first but as more and more of her story unfolds, the reason for this becomes clear and by the end of the book I had gained a lot of respect and sympathy for her.

I didn’t enjoy this book as much as Daughters of War and The Hidden Palace – as the third in a trilogy I would have preferred it to be more closely linked with the first two books rather than moving on to the next generation – but the gripping plot and evocative setting still made it worthwhile. As for whether or not Vicky achieves her dream of meeting Yves Saint Laurent, you’ll have to read the book to find out!

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

This is book 40/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

Henry VIII: The Heart and the Crown by Alison Weir

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Henry VIII: The Heart and the Crown is the second book in Alison Weir’s new Tudor Rose trilogy: three novels exploring the lives of Elizabeth of York, Henry VIII and Mary I, three generations of the Tudor family. It also works as a companion to her earlier Six Tudor Queens series, which told the stories of Henry’s six wives.

This novel is quite unusual because it’s the first I’ve read by Weir to be written from a male perspective. So many of today’s historical fiction authors are choosing to focus on historical women, particularly those who have been forgotten or neglected, I feel that famous male figures like Henry VIII are currently less ‘fashionable’ subjects. As there’s also been so much written about him in the past, I wondered whether this book would have anything new to offer.

The novel takes us through Henry’s life in chronological order, beginning with his childhood and his unexpected change in status after the death of his older brother and then moving on to look at his six marriages, the religious changes that took place during his reign and all the political intrigue of the Tudor court. His relationships with advisers such as Cardinal Wolsey, Thomas More and Thomas Cromwell – and his court jester, Will Somers – are covered, as well as his rivalry with King Francis I of France and finally his declining health and his death in 1547.

I remember mentioning in some of my Six Tudor Queens reviews that Weir’s depiction of Henry was surprisingly positive throughout that series. All six of his wives are shown to have some genuine love and affection for him and his cruel actions are usually excused as being the fault of somebody else. She portrays him in a similar way in this book, showing how easily he is manipulated by people around him and trying to make him a more sympathetic character than you would usually expect, while not ignoring his obvious flaws – his jealousy, insecurity and hot temper. Weir does a particularly good job of showing how important it was to Henry to have a legitimate heir to carry on the Tudor dynasty founded by his father and the panic that he felt every time he suffered an illness or accident, knowing that if he died he would be leaving the future of his kingdom at risk.

Another unusual thing about this book is that I somehow found it both too long and too short at the same time! I read it on my Kindle, but the paper version has over 600 pages, so it’s a big book and not one that can be read very quickly. On the other hand, the six novels in the Six Tudor Queens series were all nearly as long and this single book on Henry has to cover a lot of the same information, so I felt that it didn’t really have the same level of depth, particularly where Henry’s later wives were concerned. About half of the book is devoted to Henry’s marriage to Katherine of Aragon and the ‘Great Matter’ that arises when he attempts to have the marriage annulled so he can marry Anne Boleyn. This means his relationships with his other four wives are squeezed into the remainder of the book, along with major events like the sinking of the Mary Rose, which is covered in just a few paragraphs.

Overall, I found this an interesting read, if a bit dry at times, but I don’t really feel that I learned anything new from it – and, as I’ve said, a lot of the material is repeated from the earlier six novels. If you don’t have much knowledge of Henry VIII and the Tudors, though, I think this would be a good alternative to non-fiction to start you on your journey and introduce you to this period of history. Be aware that the US title of this book is The King’s Pleasure: A Novel of Henry VIII – I don’t want anyone to buy the same book twice!

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

This is book 39/50 for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.