Category: Reviews

A Civil Contract by Georgette Heyer – #1961Club

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This week, Karen of Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings and Simon of Stuck in a Book are hosting another of their clubs where we all read and write about books published in the same year – and this time it’s 1961! There are some authors who were so prolific you can usually rely on them to have had a book published in any given year and one of those authors is Georgette Heyer. Her novel from 1961 is A Civil Contract and it’s one I hadn’t read before, so I decided to read it for the club.

A Civil Contract is set, like most of her novels, in the Regency period and begins with Adam Deveril, the new Viscount Lynton, returning from the Peninsular War to find his family facing financial ruin. It seems that his father, who recently died, has left so much debt that the Deverils could have to sell Fontley, their beloved country estate. Adam is also forced to end his relationship with the woman he loves, Julia Oversley, knowing that a marriage between the two of them will no longer be considered appropriate. Julia’s father, Lord Oversley, however, has a possible solution to Adam’s money problems – his friend, Jonathan Chawleigh, is a very wealthy merchant and has a daughter whom he is determined to marry into the aristocracy.

Compared to the beautiful Julia, Adam finds Jenny Chawleigh plain and ordinary, but as he gets to know her better he quickly discovers that she’s intelligent, funny, sensible and kind-hearted. To Mr Chawleigh’s delight, the marriage goes ahead, with his daughter gaining the title of Lady Lynton, and in return Adam receives the money he needs to keep Fontley in the family and provide for his mother and sisters. It’s a practical marriage rather than one made for love and Jenny understands that Adam’s heart still lies with Julia, but the two are quite happy together – except on the many occasions when Mr Chawleigh interferes and becomes irritatingly over-generous with his money!

I enjoyed this book. It’s not as much fun as some of Heyer’s others – it’s a quieter, more mature novel, similar to Black Sheep, for example – but I liked the characters and the realistic portrayal of a marriage of convenience in that era. There’s no passionate romance here, just two people learning to get along together. I did feel sorry for Jenny, though, because she clearly loves Adam from the beginning and has to accept that he doesn’t feel the same way about her, at least not while Julia is still around. He does eventually start to see Julia in a slightly different light, but there’s still a sense that part of him will always love her and not Jenny. As a romance, then, the book is not entirely satisfying, but it’s believable.

We don’t really get the sparkling, witty dialogue between hero and heroine that we get in other Heyer novels, but there’s still some humour, mainly provided by Jenny’s father, Mr Chawleigh. He’s a wonderful character – he’s loud and overbearing, considered ‘vulgar’ by upper class society, but he’s also well-meaning and genuinely wants to use his money to make Adam and Jenny happy. I enjoyed watching his relationship with Adam develop as they come to understand and respect each other, despite some serious differences of opinion along the way.

So, I don’t think I would name A Civil Contract one of my absolute favourite Heyer novels, but it’s still one that I liked very much and a perfect choice to start my 1961 Club reading.

Circle of Shadows by Marisa Linton

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Mystery, fantasy, historical fiction, dark academia…this is a difficult book to classify as it’s all of those things and more. Most importantly, it’s also a fascinating, entertaining read and after finishing it I was pleased to learn that it’s the first in a series, with the second book, Domain of Darkness, coming later this year.

The novel is set in 1904 and follows Evie Winstanley, the daughter of a scholar who collects occult books. When her father is found dead in his study, with his clothes dripping with water and a circular symbol chalked on the floor beside him, Evie is determined to find out what has happened to him. Convinced that he was working on some kind of occult ritual before his death, she manages to identify the symbol as the Kuroskato, or circle of shadows.

Evie’s investigations take her first to a country house on the Yorkshire moors and then to Oxford, where she learns more about the Kuroskato and how it could be dangerous in the hands of the wrong people. She also meets two very different men: Marcus Ellingham, a reporter for The Ghost Hunter, who has written a series of articles on fraudulent mediums, and Aubrey Penhallow, a country gentleman who is an expert on horse racing. One of them is a friend from the beginning, whereas the other is much more difficult to interpret. As Evie’s path crosses with both men again and again throughout the book, she must decide which, if either, can be trusted.

I enjoyed this book and liked the way the supernatural elements were always there in the background but never really dominated the story too much. Yes, this is a world where the dark arts really exist, where people can be possessed and spirits can be summoned, but Linton manages to weave these things into the plot in a way that feels convincing and believable. The mixture of a scholarly historical setting with a real, practical system of magic kept reminding me of Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, although the plots of the two books are very different.

I also found Evie a very engaging character. She shares her father’s love of history, books and archaeology, but as a woman in Edwardian England her opportunities to pursue an academic career of her own are very limited. When she finds her way to Oxford University in search of answers to the mystery, she has to navigate the halls of all-male colleges, gain access to the Bodleian Library and infiltrate a secret society, the Sons of Dionysus, made up of rich and privileged young men. The sections of the book set in Oxford are wonderfully atmospheric, whether Linton is describing the world of academia, the bustling streets of the tourist areas or the banks of the River Cherwell at night. The earlier parts of the book, where Evie and her sister visit Yorkshire are just as vividly described and the country estate with its dark and sinister lake provides a contrast to the urban setting we see later on.

Although I guessed who the villain was in advance, I was still satisfied with the ending, particularly as it sets things up perfectly for the second book. I can’t wait to see what Evie does next and wish we didn’t have to wait until December to find out!

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

Tales from Watership Down by Richard Adams

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Watership Down has been one of my favourite books since I first read it as a ten-year-old and when I re-read it in 2010 I was pleased to find I still loved it as much as I ever did (it’s a book that can be equally appreciated by both adults and children, I think). Despite that, the thought of reading the sequel, Tales from Watership Down, has never really appealed to me – it’s a collection of short stories rather than a novel like the first book and I’ve heard a lot of people say they were disappointed by it. Anyway, I decided to give it a try this Easter (I’ve always associated Watership Down with this time of year as the film often used to be shown on Easter Sunday until parents complained that it was too violent and not the nice cartoon about cute bunnies they’d assumed it was!).

The book is divided into three sections, beginning with a selection of stories featuring El-ahrairah, also known as ‘the Prince with a Thousand Enemies’, the legendary folk hero of the rabbit world. If you’ve read Watership Down, you’ll remember that the rabbits often entertain or comfort themselves by telling stories about El-ahrairah (whom Richard Adams himself described as a rabbit version of Robin Hood). These stories were always my least favourite parts of the novel as I felt they were just a distraction from the main narrative, so I wasn’t exactly thrilled about there being so many of them here. However, I really enjoyed the first one, The Sense of Smell, in which El-ahrairah goes on a journey to several faraway lands in search of someone who can give him the ability to smell, a sense which rabbits don’t yet have, making them vulnerable to predators. He is told that the sinister Ilips, who live in a cave in a land of perpetual darkness, will be able to give him this sense for himself and his rabbits, but things don’t go to plan and El-ahrairah is forced to travel on to the Land of Yesterday, a fascinating fictional world!

At the end of this section there are two stories which don’t involve El-ahrairah. One, Speedwell’s Story, is an intentionally silly story which Adams says in the introduction is ‘representative of the kind of nonsense tales which rabbits enjoy’. As I’m not a rabbit, I didn’t enjoy that one, but I did like The Rabbit’s Ghost Story, which is told by a rabbit called Coltsfoot. As he tells of his encounter with a ghostly rabbit, it’s very atmospheric and while Adams’ writing is often quite dark, this particular story comes close to the horror genre.

The second section of the book consists of four more El-ahrairah stories, but this time they are connected and describe what happened when El-ahrairah and his friend Rabscuttle return from visiting the Black Rabbit of Inlé (this journey was referred to in the original novel). I was intrigued by the first one, The Story of the Comical Field, in which the two rabbits are tricked into entering a man-made maze where they encounter an unspecified ‘evil’, but I found the other stories less interesting.

Finally, we come to the third section and the one I think most of us will have been waiting for: a continuation of the events of Watership Down, describing some of the things that happen to Hazel, Fiver, Bigwig and the others after they establish their new warren on the Down. They don’t have such dramatic adventures as in the first book, but do have to deal with various newcomers who disturb the stability of the warren, including Stonecrop, an escaped hutch rabbit who smells of man, and Flyairth, a doe who is convinced they are all going to die of the White Blindness (myxomatosis). Maybe in response to criticism of the first book being sexist, Adams gives a lot of attention to Hyzenthlay, Vilthuril and the other doe characters and explores the idea of warrens being run by female Chief Rabbits. I enjoyed this final part of the book, but was left feeling a bit sad because it gave us a glimpse of what a true sequel could have looked like.

So, do I think this book is worth reading? I wouldn’t recommend it as an introduction to Richard Adams, but if you enjoyed Watership Down and want to spend more time in that world, then you’ll probably like the third part of the book at least – but don’t set your expectations too high and be prepared for lots of El-ahrairah.

The Mill House Murders by Yukito Ayatsuji

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Translated by Ho-Ling Wong

This is the third of Japanese author Yukito Ayatsuji’s books I’ve read – I loved The Labyrinth House Murders but found The Decagon House Murders disappointing, so I was curious to see what I would think of this one. All three books are part of Ayatsuji’s Bizarre House series and all of them feature the detective Shimada Kiyoshi and an unusual, sinister house designed by the architect Nakamura Seiji. The Mill House Murders was originally published in Japanese in 1988 and is available from Pushkin Press in an English translation.

This book is set entirely within the walls of the Mill House which, like the Decagon House and Labyrinth House, is one of Nakamura’s creations. It’s home to Fujinuma Kiichi, who sustained terrible injuries in a car accident several years earlier and is now confined to a wheelchair, with a mask and gloves covering the damage to his face and hands. Kiichi is the son of the late artist Fujinuma Issei, and although he normally lives a reclusive life with his wife, Yurie, and their servants, once a year he invites a group of acquaintances to the house to look at his father’s paintings.

In September 1985, the group are making their annual visit when several shocking events occur, all in the space of one night: a woman falls to her death from the tower, one of Issei’s paintings vanishes, one of the guests disappears without explanation and a gruesome discovery is made in the furnace room. A solution is suggested by the police, but it’s not very satisfactory and lots of questions remain unanswered. A year later, in September 1986, the same people have gathered at the Mill House again and this time they are joined by Shimada Kiyoshi, a friend of the man who disappeared (and was largely blamed for everything that happened). Shimada believes he can find out the truth about the events of 1985, but he’ll have to hurry before history begins to repeat itself.

The Mill House Murders is another Ayatsuji novel that I thoroughly enjoyed, so it does seem that it’s only The Decagon House that, for whatever reason, didn’t work for me and I’m glad I decided to give him another chance! Although I often find that Japanese mysteries focus very heavily on complex puzzle solving, often involving alibis, timetables and maps, with characters, relationships and motives pushed into the background, this particular book is more balanced. It does have some floor plans, but I was pleased to find that I could follow the plot quite easily without having to study them too carefully, and the characterisation is stronger than in the Decagon and Labyrinth books.

The timeline switches backwards and forwards throughout the book, with one chapter describing the events of 1985 and the next set in the present day of 1986. This could have become confusing, but as long as I paid attention to the chapter headings, I had no problem keeping them straight in my mind. The mystery itself is a clever one; I partly managed to solve it (mainly because some of Seishi Yokomizo’s novels have similar tropes), but I didn’t get it completely right and was content to let Shimada Kiyoshi, the series detective, explain the full solution for me.

The translator, Ho-Ling Wong, also translated the other books I’ve read in this series and does a great job of making everything very clear and readable. I see there’s a fourth book in the series already in print – The Clock House Murders – and another, The Black Cat House Murders, on its way. I’ll look forward to reading both!

The Infamous Gilberts by Angela Tomaski

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Welcome to Thornwalk, home of the last Wynford Gilberts – Lydia, Hugo, Annabel, Jeremy and Rosalind. The downfall of this great family was once the subject of much tawdry gossip and many a sensational headline, and perhaps you hold in your heart some remnant, some echo of this. If so, I ask you to let it go, and here, with me, meet them all anew.

The Infamous Gilberts is an English country house novel with a difference. It begins in 2002 with the news that Thornwalk House, a crumbling mansion in Somerset, is being sold to a hotel chain. Before the hotel people arrive and all traces of the family who once lived there are removed forever, an old family friend, Maximus, takes the reader by the hand and leads us through the house, room by room, looking for clues and secrets left behind that reveal who the Gilberts really were. Each chapter is headed by a different item – The Burn on the Library Rug, Dancing Slippers, A Tuft of Wool, etc – and Maximus goes on to tell us the significance of that item and the story behind it.

I found this book very difficult to get into because the writing style felt so forced and artificial. The narrator speaks directly to the reader, as in the quote I provided above, referring to us as ‘you’ and telling us to climb the staircase, open the door, switch on the light and so on. This made it hard to become immersed in the story and form any kind of connection with the characters. I came close to abandoning the book but instead put it aside for a few days and tried again later. This time I persevered and eventually the narrative style became less annoying and intrusive. As the five Gilbert children, whom I found indistinguishable when they were younger, grew into adults, they also developed as characters and I started to find the story much more compelling.

Beginning in the 1920s and ending in the early 21st century, the book follows the lives of the Gilbert siblings who, in the absence of their father, are raised at Thornwalk by a mother who is struggling to cope and largely leaves them to their own devices. As a result, all five become adults who are damaged or troubled in some way. Hugo, the eldest son, goes away to fight in the Second World War and returns deeply affected by his experiences. Depressed, paranoid and increasingly unstable, he starts to take his frustration out on the people around him. His younger brother Jeremy, on the other hand, is rejected by the army on health grounds and is left with a feeling of inadequacy that leads to him leaving home and spending the rest of his adult life moving from country to country, never really settling down.

As for the three sisters, the youngest, Rosalind, becomes an actress and her shocking actions make her the most infamous of all the Gilberts. Then there’s Lydia, who causes another family scandal by falling in love with her tutor as a teenager and after being forced to end the relationship never seems happy or content ever again. Finally, Annabel suffers from an unspecified mental illness and is considered ‘mad’, but in many ways she is the most shrewd and sensible member of the family. Annabel is also the only one I actually liked; apart from Jeremy, whom we barely see, I found the others so unpleasant it was very difficult to have any sympathy for them.

As you can probably tell, this is a very dark book with some disturbing storylines. I’m not sure why the blurb describes it as hilarious, because I didn’t think it was very funny at all, but maybe that’s just me. I didn’t really understand the role of Maximus in the story either; he tells us that he’s a close friend of the family, particularly Hugo, but almost never interacts with them or features in any of the accounts he gives us of their lives. It seemed that he was there purely because the unusual style and structure of the book required someone to be the narrator rather than because he had any other significance.

I think some readers will enjoy this book and some will struggle with it – although somehow I did both! If anyone else has read it, I would love to hear what you thought.

Thanks to Penguin UK/Fig Tree for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

The News from Dublin by Colm Tóibín – #ReadingIrelandMonth26

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This month, Cathy of 746 Books is hosting Reading Ireland Month, celebrating the work of Irish authors. I wasn’t sure if I would have time to contribute anything but have managed to fit in a review of Colm Tóibín’s latest book with a few days of March still to go! The News from Dublin, published this week, is a collection of nine short stories loosely linked by a theme of characters either living far from home or building a new life, putting a distance between their current and past selves.

The collection covers a range of topics and settings. The stories were all interesting, but I inevitably found some much stronger than others. The opening story, The Journey to Galway, was particularly moving. A woman receives a telegram informing her of her son’s death in the First World War, so she takes a train to Galway to break the news to her daughter-in-law. Tóibín perfectly captures the range of emotions she goes through during the journey: grief, loss, a sense of denial, and the trauma of being the one who has to deliver bad news.

Another of my favourites was Five Bridges, set in the present day and tackling a subject that is very relevant at the moment. It follows an Irish plumber, Paul, who is an immigrant living in America and, despite having been there for thirty years, he believes he will be a target of ICE because he came on a tourist visa and has no other documents. Before he leaves the country, probably forever, he reconnects with his young daughter, Geraldine, who lives with his ex-partner and her new husband. As Paul bonds with Geraldine at last, he is full of regret, both for the years she’s been missing from his life and for the future he faces without her. I also liked A Sum of Money, which is about a teenage boy whose parents have made sacrifices to be able to send him to an expensive boarding school. Conscious of not having as much money to spend as his friends, he begins to steal from the other boys – but what will happen when he’s found out? I enjoyed this one as it felt a bit different from the rest of the stories, which made it stand out.

I only really have two criticisms of this book. One is that most of the stories are very open-ended, leaving things unresolved and not providing any answers. As a sort of snapshot of life, giving a glimpse into a character’s world, they’re very effective, but I personally tend to prefer short stories with a more satisfactory ending or a clever twist. The other is that the final story, The Catalan Girls, is novella-length and takes up most of the second half of the book. Although I did enjoy that one, which follows the story of three sisters who move to Argentina from Catalonia as children, I thought it made the whole book feel unbalanced.

The stories in this collection were written at various times and first appeared in other publications rather than being written specifically for this book, but they fit together well (apart from the final one being so much longer). They all have a quiet, reflective tone and I found them very poignant. This was a perfect choice for Reading Ireland Month.

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

Trouble with Lichen by John Wyndham

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What would you do if someone offered you the chance to live longer? Not just a few years longer, but two or three times the average lifespan? What would be the benefits and the drawbacks? And what if you were the person who had discovered a way to make all of this a reality? These questions form the premise of John Wyndham’s 1960 novel, Trouble with Lichen, the book recently chosen for me to read in the latest Classics Club Spin.

The novel is written from the perspectives of scientists Francis Saxover and Diana Brackley, as well as Francis’ two children, Zephanie and Paul. Diana is a newly qualified biochemist working for Francis at his research facility, Darr House, when they both notice the strange effects of a piece of lichen which has been accidentally dropped into the cat’s saucer of milk. Each without the other’s knowledge, Diana and Francis begin to carry out their own research and both independently come to the same conclusion: the lichen seems to have properties that preserve a youthful appearance and slow down the rate at which people age. Rather than share her findings with Francis, Diana leaves the company and the two don’t see each other again for several years.

Because the supply of this particular species of lichen is very limited – it seems that it only grows in one small part of the world – Francis and Diana both sense that it could be dangerous to make the results of their research public before they’ve found a way to create the substance synthetically in the lab. Francis begins to treat himself with the lichen extract, implanting it beneath his skin, and does the same for his two teenage children, although he doesn’t tell them exactly what it is. Diana, on the other hand, starts her own beauty company, Nefertiti Ltd, and injects the substance into some of her wealthy female clients, again without being honest with them. Of course, it’s only a matter of time before the world learns the truth…

Although I wouldn’t describe myself as a big fan of science fiction, I’ve read and enjoyed several of John Wyndham’s novels. Trouble with Lichen has a slightly different feel – there’s less plot, less action and more discussion of ideas, ethics and moral dilemmas – but I enjoyed this one as well. It was interesting to consider the various implications of increasing our longevity; Francis and Diana seem to assume that everyone will be fighting to get their hands on the substance (referred to as an ‘antigerone’), but the thought of living to be two or three hundred years old doesn’t sound at all appealing to me! What do you think? Would you like to?

The novel has a strong feminist message, which isn’t really what I expected from a book written by a male author in the 1960s, and I appreciate what he was trying to do, although it didn’t always work! Diana believes she can create a future where women don’t need to rush into marriage because their childbearing years will last a lot longer, giving them time to pursue a meaningful career. This is the motive behind Nefertiti – she wants to gain the support of some of the world’s most powerful and influential women – but the way she goes about it, giving the drug to her clients without their knowledge, is completely unethical however she tries to justify it. There’s also a strong implication that the biggest benefit for women is that they’ll be able to continue looking young and attractive for much longer, which will keep their husbands happy.

This isn’t one of my favourite books by Wyndham and if you’re new to his work, I would recommend starting with a different one – maybe The Day of the Triffids or The Midwich Cuckoos – but although it’s not the most exciting story, it’s definitely a fascinating one. The final section is particularly interesting, where we see a whole range of different views from journalists, political parties, religious groups, trade unions and the general public. Not all of our questions are answered by the end of the book – in fact, I found the ending quite abrupt – but we are certainly left with a lot to think about!

This is book 1/50 from my third Classics Club list.