Category: Reviews

The Greek House by Dinah Jefferies

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I always enjoy picking up a new Dinah Jefferies book and finding out which part of the world she’s going to take me to next! India, Sri Lanka, Italy, Morocco and Malaysia are just some of the places I’ve visited through the pages of her novels and now I can add Corfu to the list. More specifically, Corfu in 1923, when the island is occupied by Mussolini’s Italy following a border dispute between Greece and Albania.

Sixteen-year-old Thirza and her nine-year-old brother, Billy, are caught up in the panic on the streets of Corfu Old Town during the Italian naval attack. Dulcie, their mother, has left them with her cousin, Columbine, while she goes to check on a camp of refugee children with whom she volunteers, and when she returns, she finds that Billy has disappeared. Despite weeks of searching, the little boy can’t be found and is eventually presumed dead. Struggling to cope with the trauma, Dulcie blames both Thirza and Columbine for what has happened and goes home to England, leaving behind her husband Piers, director of the British police training school in Corfu.

In 1930, Thirza returns to the island after a long absence, planning to renovate the old family home, Merchant’s House, in the hope that one day her mother will also feel ready to join her there. A lot has changed in the intervening years – the Italians have left and there’s a new woman in her father’s life – but Thirza still feels the shadow of her brother’s disappearance and decides to renew her efforts to find out the truth.

The Greek House is probably not my favourite Dinah Jefferies book, mainly because I found it too easy to predict some of the plot twists and I also thought the number of explicit sex scenes was a bit unnecessary. I loved the Corfu setting, though; everything comes to life in wonderfully vivid detail, whether the intense purple of bougainvillea or the changing colours of the sea in the sunlight. I also knew nothing about the Italian occupation of 1923, so that was interesting, although it only forms a small part of the story.

The disappearance of Billy happens very early in the novel, but it’s the trigger for everything else that happens and I liked the way Jefferies explores the impact of such a tragic incident on the various family members, depending on their different personalities and circumstances. Although I did naturally feel sorry for Dulcie, I also found it slightly annoying that she never really seemed to accept any responsibility for leaving her child in the middle of an invasion in the care of a teenager and a woman who was drunk at the time. Most of my sympathies were with Thirza, who has to live with the guilt as well as the sense of loss, and who feels that her mother will never truly forgive her. The feelings of Dulcie’s husband, Piers, seem to be largely ignored by everybody due to his hard, aloof exterior, but later in the book he mellows thanks to his relationship with his new girlfriend, Penelope – a character I ended up loving.

In her author’s note at the end, Jefferies hints that we’re going to meet some of the same characters again in her next book. That’s something to look forward to!

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

Fire from Heaven by Mary Renault

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This is the first in Mary Renault’s trilogy of novels about the life of Alexander the Great. It’s been waiting patiently on my shelf for years, since I finished her two books on Theseus, The King Must Die and The Bull from the Sea, and I picked it up last month as it would count towards both the 20 Books of Summer challenge and my Classics Club list.

First published in 1969, Fire from Heaven tells, in fictional form, the story of Alexander’s life from early childhood up to the moment he comes to power following the death of his father, Philip II of Macedon. His complex relationship with Philip – and also with his mother, Olympias – forms an important part of the novel as both parents are influential in shaping the character of the young Alexander. Philip is portrayed as a brutal, harsh, arrogant man, who can be very unkind to Alexander, but there are also moments when they bond and discover things they have in common. Their relationship is further strained by Olympias’ insinuations that Philip is not Alexander’s biological father, as well as Philip’s various infidelities and insistence on taking additional wives.

Alexander is devoted to Olympias from an early age and is disturbed by his parents’ tempestuous marriage. Like Alexander, I initially found her sympathetic, but as the novel progresses she is shown to have both positive and negative qualities, being passionate, vengeful and manipulative, as well as involving herself in religious rituals, particularly the worship of Dionysus. Alexander finds solace from his difficult relationships with his parents in his very close friendship with Hephaistion, another important character in the novel. Renault suggests that Alexander and Hephaistion are lovers, drawing comparisons with Achilles and Patroclus, although it seems that historians are divided on this.

Away from his personal relationships, a lot of time is also spent on exploring the education and experiences that made Alexander the great military leader he would later become: the tuition he receives from Aristotle; the first time he kills a man; his taming of the horse Bucephalus; and his participation in some of his father’s military campaigns. Because this book only covers the first half of Alexander’s life, Renault is able to go into a lot of depth and detail. I’m looking forward to seeing how his character continues to develop in the second book, The Persian Boy, which covers the remainder of his life.

This is not a particularly easy book to read; it needs a lot of concentration and I read it slowly over the course of a few weeks so I didn’t miss anything. It’s obviously very well written and thoroughly researched, which I knew it would be, having read other Renault books, and like many older historical novels it’s also very immersive, with no inappropriately modern language or attitudes, which can sometimes be a problem with newer books. Purely from an entertainment perspective, I didn’t find this as enjoyable to read as the Theseus novels, but I did get a lot out of it and am pleased to have added to my knowledge of a man and a period of history I previously hadn’t read much about.

Book 16/20 for 20 Books of Summer 2025.

This is also book 48/50 from my second Classics Club list.

How to Lose a Lord in Ten Days by Sophie Irwin

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This is Sophie Irwin’s third novel and since I loved her first two – A Lady’s Guide to Fortune-Hunting and A Lady’s Guide to Scandal – I was looking forward to reading this one, but although I did enjoy it, I think it’s my least favourite of the three. If you’re new to her work, all three of Irwin’s books are set in Regency England and are all standalones with different sets of characters. Apparently this one is loosely based on the romantic comedy How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days, which I haven’t seen, although I don’t think that would have made any difference to my impressions of the book.

Our heroine this time is Lydia Hanworth, a wool merchant’s granddaughter, who, as the novel opens, has found herself engaged to a man she doesn’t love. Lydia’s aunt and uncle, with whom she has lived since the deaths of her parents, have made it clear that if she refuses Lord Ashford, she’ll be sent to live with her awful Aunt Mildred – but Lydia has no intention of marrying him, or any other man not of her choosing. The engagement is due to be announced by Ashford’s father at a party in ten days’ time. That means Lydia has ten days to make Ashford regret he ever met her and voluntarily withdraw his proposal!

Like Sophie Irwin’s other books, this is a lively, entertaining read written with a lot of humour and comedy. Most of the story plays out at a house party hosted by Ashford’s cousin Phoebe, which means there are a limited number of characters to get to know. Despite this, not all of them came fully to life for me and a subplot that develops later in the book involving Phoebe, her husband and a missing necklace felt unnecessary. It does provide some purpose for Lydia’s brother, Pip, though – he has just begun working for the Bow Street Runners and has arrived at the house party with his notebook and quizzing glass, hoping for a real mystery to solve.

Some of Lydia’s attempts to drive Ashford away are quite amusing and could be described as harmless fun (her hideous, unfashionable gowns; her loud, grating laugh; her tone-deaf attempts at singing) but others seem a bit cruel. Despite Lydia’s dislike of him, which is largely based on misunderstandings, Ashford is a decent person and doesn’t really deserve to be humiliated by her! I also couldn’t quite believe that the other guests would have overlooked her behaviour and background so easily and accepted her as one of the party. She broke so many of the rules of upper-class Regency society her reputation should have been in ruins, but it seemed that while people were momentarily shocked by her actions, it was all forgotten the next day.

Still, this is another enjoyable read from Sophie Irwin and I’m sure if I hadn’t held it to such high standards based on her first two books, I would probably be less critical of it. If you’re looking for a light, fun summer read this would be ideal.

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

Book 15/20 for 20 Books of Summer 2025.

The Six Murders of Daphne St Clair by MacKenzie Common

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Daphne St Clair is a ninety-year-old grandmother in poor health who lives at Coconut Grove Senior Home in Florida. Probably not anyone’s idea of a typical serial killer, but when another elderly resident is found dead in the home, Daphne calls the police and confesses to not only this murder but several more, spanning four states, two countries and seven decades. The police, Daphne’s family and the public are both shocked and intrigued – what could have made Daphne want to kill so many people? And why has she chosen to confess now, at this late stage of her life?

When the news of Daphne’s confession begins to spread, she is contacted by journalists and reporters wanting to be first to tell her story, but she turns them all down – except one. Ruth Robinson hopes to start a podcast about Daphne’s life and even has a title ready for it – The Murders of Daphne St Clair. Something draws Daphne to the younger woman and she agrees to be interviewed for the podcast, but as her story unfolds she begins to discover that there’s more to Ruth than meets the eye. Who is Ruth Robinson and what’s the real reason for the podcast?

I had never heard of MacKenzie Common (it seems she has previously written a YA mystery novel, although this is her first book for adults), but I was attracted by the elegant, eye-catching cover and the premise of a ninety-year-old serial killer who had spent her whole life literally getting away with murder! I did enjoy the book, with a few reservations which I’ll mention later in this review, but overall it was quite an entertaining read.

Daphne’s tale begins in Canada in the 1930s, where she grew up on a farm near a small town in Saskatchewan. After a difficult childhood, Daphne runs away from home at the age of sixteen and makes her way to Winnipeg, where she meets the man who will become her first victim. He’s an unpleasant, violent man and his death is more of an accident than a murder, so at this stage of the book, Daphne seems a sympathetic character. This quickly changes as Daphne’s actions become more senseless and inexcusable and she shows no repentance for what she has done. I disliked her more and more as the novel progressed, but at the same time, she’s a clever, witty narrator and her story is engaging.

The structure of the book was a problem for me. Daphne’s narrative is broken into short sections, some of which are written in her own first person perspective and some in the form of dialogue for the podcast. These are then interspersed with chapters from Ruth’s perspective as she carries out some investigations of her own into Daphne’s background and one particular murder that is of special interest to her. I felt that the switches from one character to the other happened too quickly and too often, which stopped the story from flowing as well as it could have done. On top of this, there are also frequent interruptions from true crime fans discussing the show on Reddit and speculating on who Daphne is going to kill next, and a fashion blogger on TikTok who imagines outfits Daphne may have worn at key moments in her life. I could have done without these as well, but they do illustrate the moral issues of treating criminals like celebrities.

The ending of the novel leaves an important question unanswered; we can decide for ourselves what happened (or what we would have liked to have happened) but I would have preferred to know for certain! This wasn’t a perfect book, then, but not many are and there were definitely more things I liked than disliked.

Thanks to Headline/Mountain Leopard Press for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

The End of the Affair by Graham Greene

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Graham Greene’s 1951 novel, The End of the Affair, was one of the final unread books on my Classics Club list, which I’ve been neglecting recently. As I had left a few empty slots on my 20 Books of Summer list for random reads, I decided this would be a good opportunity to read it.

The End of the Affair is narrated by Maurice Bendrix, a writer living in London. As the title suggests, the novel begins at the end of an affair between Bendrix and neighbour Sarah, the wife of Henry Miles, a civil servant. It was Sarah who ended the relationship, leaving Bendrix confused, hurt and bitter. In January 1946, almost two years after the affair ends, Bendrix meets Henry by chance crossing the Common that separates their two houses. Henry never knew about the affair, but he now confides in Bendrix that he suspects Sarah is seeing another man. This revives Bendrix’s suppressed feelings for Sarah and he decides to hire a private detective to follow her and try to find out who her new lover is.

I really enjoyed the first half of this book. Greene writes so convincingly about Bendrix’s regret for his lost love and the mixture of emotions it provokes in him: disappointment, anger, resentment and – after hearing Henry’s suspicions – jealousy. The private detective he employs, Alfred Parkis, is a wonderful character and I wished he’d played a bigger part in the book. Although he’s not particularly successful in his detecting, he’s so eager to please and to set a good example for his young son, Lance, that I found him very endearing. He also adds a touch of comedy to what is otherwise a very serious story.

In the middle of the novel, the focus switches to Sarah and through some passages from her diary, we see her side of the story and discover her reasons for ending the affair with Bendrix. I found the second half of the book less compelling as discussions of Catholicism, religious conversion and the existence of God begin to dominate. There are lots of interesting ideas being explored, but I felt that it completely changed the direction and the feel of the story I had previously been enjoying. Still, I liked the book overall, loved the quality of the writing and thought the 1940s setting was perfectly evoked.

This is the first book I’ve read by Graham Greene and maybe it wasn’t the best place to start with him, but I do want to read more. Any recommendations are welcome!

Book 14/20 for 20 Books of Summer 2025.

This is also book 47/50 from my second Classics Club list.

The Emerald Shawl by Louise Douglas

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I’d forgotten how much I love reading Louise Douglas! I’ve read four of her books and particularly enjoyed the du Maurier-inspired The Secrets Between Us, but then I seemed to lose track and missed all of her more recent ones. The Emerald Shawl, published this week, turned out to be the perfect choice for my return to her work.

The novel opens in Bristol in 1864, with journalist Nelly Brooks meeting a woman in a green shawl by the docks. Nelly’s ‘journalism’ amounts to writing a women’s column for the Courier, giving advice on cooking, cleaning and decorating, which is all her editor will allow her to do. She hasn’t given up on her dream of becoming a serious news reporter like her male colleagues, however, and when Eliza Morgan, the woman in the shawl, tells her of the murder of the wife and newborn child of an important man, Nelly is sure she’s found the story she’s been hoping for. When Eliza herself is found floating lifeless in the river the next day, Nelly doesn’t believe the verdict that it was an accidental drowning. She’s convinced that Eliza was murdered and that she is the only person who may be able to find out who killed her.

The mystery is the main focus of the book, but Nelly’s personal life is also interesting. Having become pregnant at the age of fifteen, she spent several years in an asylum, sent there by her parents who found it preferable to admitting that she’d had an illegitimate child. Nelly has had no contact with her daughter – or her parents – since the baby was removed from her after the birth, but she has now discovered that twelve-year-old Hannah is attending a school near Nelly’s place of work. As well as investigating Eliza’s death, Nelly also sets out to find a way to bring Hannah back into her life.

The characters in the book range from the very wealthy, such as the politician Sir Edward Fairfield and his wife, for whom Eliza Morgan worked as a seamstress, to the working class Skinners, who are drawn into the mystery when their daughter’s body is stolen from the morgue. Although both families live in Bristol, they may as well be in different worlds and Nelly has to navigate between the two.

I found it interesting to learn after finishing the book that Douglas based Nelly’s character on the American journalist Nellie Bly, who went undercover to report on conditions inside a mental institution. The fictional Nelly’s own experience of mental institutions allows Douglas to explore issues around mental health and how ‘insanity’ could be used as a convenient way of dealing with people seen as problematic. I also loved the Victorian Bristol setting, which made a nice change from the usual Victorian London settings! The building of the Clifton Suspension Bridge is completed during the course of the novel, an important event in Bristol’s history which helps set the story in a wider historical context.

I hope Louise Douglas will return to Nelly Brooks in a future book as I think there’s a lot of scope to do more with the character. If not, I still have plenty of her earlier novels to enjoy!

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

Masquerade Balls in Regency Britain by Anne Glover

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Having read a lot of fiction set in the Regency period, the masquerade ball is something I’ve come across often. It tends to be the setting for some of the novels’ pivotal moments, with masked characters free to behave in ways they normally wouldn’t and mistaking each other’s identities, leading to unexpected romances, accidental interactions with the wrong person and other surprises that are only revealed when the masks come off! This new book by Anne Glover looks at the facts behind the fiction, exploring the real history of the masquerade ball.

The book begins with a discussion of the popular venues used for masquerades. Not surprisingly, the focus is overwhelmingly on London, where masquerades were regularly held at the Argyll Rooms and the Pantheon, as well as outdoor events at the Ranelagh Gardens and Vauxhall Gardens. However, Glover does acknowledge the popularity of masquerade balls in seaside resorts like Margate and Brighton, in other large cities around Britain and Ireland and in other countries such as India. She also looks at private masquerades, where a wealthy person would open their own home to family and friends. The balls would all have different characteristics depending on the size and style of the venue, the ticket price and the class of guests they were trying to attract (the Argyll Rooms required a subscription, whereas the Pantheon was open to anyone who could afford a ticket).

Glover then devotes separate chapters to each individual aspect of the masquerade ball. I found the chapter on lighting particularly interesting. She explains that although we may imagine masquerades as dark, dimly-lit affairs, it was actually important for them to be brightly lit – to help guests stay awake as the balls often started at ten or eleven at night and went on until dawn; to make it safer for people wearing masks to move around; and for the host to show that they could afford to light hundreds of lamps. The Pantheon was said to have 10,000 variegated lamps arranged in different designs. The rooms would be decorated with transparencies – pictures painted on paper, silk or linen and illuminated from behind – and artificial flowers, while pictures and designs would be chalked onto the dance floors, again with the practical purpose of stopping dancers from slipping.

The types of dances popular during the Regency are discussed, along with additional entertainments which started to be added as masquerade balls became more ambitious, including fireworks, lotteries and performances by dancers, singers and acrobats. Then of course, there’s the food – the formal ‘supper’, which often took place at one or two o’clock in the morning, versus the idea of a buffet or refreshments available throughout the entire event which became more popular as we moved into the Victorian era. Costumes are the subject of another chapter. People who wore the ‘domino’ (a simple hooded cloak with a mask) were often looked down on by other guests for not making enough effort; character costumes based on figures from history or literature were preferred, and this leads into a discussion of cultural appropriation and symbols of national identity.

Although masquerade balls could be attended by people from various walks of life, they were obviously aimed mainly at the very rich and privileged and as I read, I couldn’t help thinking about all the working class people who were excluded from entertainments like these – and all the money that was spent on something only lasting one night. I suppose at least the balls created plenty of work for costume makers, artists, musicians and performers, cooks and caterers!

I found this book interesting, but I thought the style and structure made it a bit too dry and scholarly for the general reader. I’m sure it would be of great help as a reference book for someone writing a Regency novel, though. Anne Glover has clearly carried out a huge amount of research and gone into an incredible amount of detail in each chapter, but I would have preferred something that was more fun to read. Still, I did learn a lot from it and coincidentally, the very next novel I picked up after finishing it happened to feature a masquerade ball!

Thanks to Pen & Sword History for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.