Category: Reviews

The Bells of Westminster by Leonora Nattrass

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I’ve enjoyed all three books in Leonora Nattrass’ Laurence Jago series (Black Drop, Blue Water and Scarlet Town) and was hoping for a fourth, but it seems she’s moved on to other things, at least temporarily. Like the Jago books, The Bells of Westminster is set in the 18th century but is a completely separate story with a new set of characters to get to know.

It’s 1774 and King George III has just given his permission for the Society of Antiquaries to open the tomb of Edward I, who rests in Westminster Abbey. The Society wants to discover whether Edward’s body was embalmed, according to his wishes, and whether he was buried with any valuable artifacts. However, the opening of the tomb sets in motion a series of bizarre events: first, a ghostly figure is seen wearing the dead king’s crown, then one of the Antiquaries is found dead and Edward’s body is stolen. Mr Bell, the Dean of Westminster, is given the job of investigating, but his daughter Susan knows he’s not capable of solving the mystery and it will be up to her to solve it for him.

The novel is narrated by Susan Bell who, at twenty-three, is already considered a spinster. Her father would like her to marry her cousin Lindley, an aspiring scientist who is staying with them at the Deanery, but Susan isn’t sure what she thinks of him – and anyway, she’s quite happy with the company of her talking parrot, Cuthbert. Susan’s narration takes the form of diary entries, through which we see the mystery unfold as well as gaining some insights into life within the confines of Westminster Abbey.

I’ll be honest and say that at first I didn’t think I was going to enjoy this book. I had trouble connecting with Susan’s narrative style, peppered with notes and asides, which seemed to be trying very hard to be clever and witty. It also took a long time for the story to really get started, but once the murder happened about a quarter of the way into the book, I became drawn in. Susan’s narration also grew on me after a while and I found I liked her much more than I thought I would at the beginning.

Nattrass explains in her author’s note which parts of the book are based on fact and which are invented. The opening of Edward I’s tomb in 1774 really happened, for example – although the body wasn’t stolen and a ghost didn’t really appear! The characters are also a mixture of real people and fictional ones (Susan Bell is one of the latter). One thing that’s completely real, of course, is the setting: with the whole book being set within Westminster Abbey and its grounds, there are lots of detailed descriptions of the chapels, arches and galleries as well as the various tombs and shrines.

The eighteenth century was also a time of major scientific developments and Nattrass is able to explore some of these through Lindley’s interest in science. In particular, we see how a knowledge of science can work along with – and sometimes in conflict with – superstitions, religion or fear of the supernatural. This is a fascinating novel, then, and although I would still have preferred another Laurence Jago book, I did enjoy this one once I got past the slow, uncertain start!

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

Book 47/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

The Glassmaker by Tracy Chevalier

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Having enjoyed some of Tracy Chevalier’s previous books I was particularly looking forward to this one because of the setting. It takes place on Murano, an island in the Venetian Lagoon which for centuries has been associated with glass making. It begins in the 15th century but doesn’t remain in that time period because, Chevalier tells us, time works differently there – more on that later!

1486 is when we first meet Orsola Rosso, the eldest daughter of a Murano glassmaking family. Working with glass is considered a man’s job, but Orsola feels that glassmaking is in her blood and longs to have the same opportunities as her brothers. When her father is killed in an accident in the workshop and the family begin to struggle both financially and creatively, Orsola comes up with a plan to earn some extra money by making glass beads. Despite bead making being looked down on by men as not ‘real’ glassmaking, it’s difficult, intricate work and takes Orsola a lot of time and effort to master, but eventually she learns the necessary skills and is helping to keep the family business afloat.

In 1574, the Rosso family experience more hardships when plague makes its way across the water from Venice to Murano – but this is where time begins to move strangely. Although many decades have gone by, the characters have barely aged at all and the story just continues within this new setting as if nothing unusual has happened. We jump forward in time several more times throughout the book until we are brought right up to date with the Covid pandemic – and still Orsola and the other central characters remain unaware that they should have been dead for hundreds of years! I don’t think I’ve read another novel that handles time in this exact way; Virginia Woolf’s Orlando has a similar concept, but it only involves one or two characters rather than the entire cast, and she plays with gender as well as age. John Boyne’s The Thief of Time also has a protagonist who doesn’t age, but he is at least aware that something odd is going on. What Chevalier does here is different and I think readers will either dislike it or just accept and enjoy it.

The device Chevalier uses to tell the story has two advantages. The first is that it allows her to give an overview of the history of Venice and Murano from the 1400s to the modern day and explore the ways in which things have changed over the centuries (plagues, two world wars, increasing tourism, competition affecting Venice’s position as a centre of trade). The second is that she can focus on developing one set of characters – including Orsola and her brothers and sisters, her lover Antonio, the German merchant Klingenberg and the African gondolier Domenego – instead of introducing new generations. Still, I think I would have been just as happy if the book had been set entirely in one of the earlier time periods, as they were the ones that interested me most.

A lot of Chevalier’s novels tend to deal with specific crafts or vocations: embroidery and bell ringing in A Single Thread; fossil collecting in Remarkable Creatures; or growing apple trees in At the Edge of the Orchard. Obviously in this book it’s the making of glass and beads and we learn a lot about the skills required, the methods used and the personal touches each individual glassmaker brings to their work. I’m fortunate enough to have visited both Venice and Murano and seen a glass blowing demonstration so I could easily picture some of the things and places Chevalier describes, but even if you haven’t she does an excellent job of bringing them to life. This is a fascinating book and I did enjoy it, even if I wasn’t completely convinced by the time travel element!

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

Book 46/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

God is an Englishman by RF Delderfield – #1970Club

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My final book for this week’s 1970 Club hosted by Simon and Karen is one I was almost certain I would love – and I did! I’ve read several of RF Delderfield’s other books and particularly enjoyed his A Horseman Riding By trilogy, set in rural England during the first half of the 20th century. God is an Englishman, published in 1970, is the first in another trilogy, known as the Swann Saga, which promises to be equally enjoyable.

The novel begins with soldier Adam Swann fighting in India during the Sepoy Mutiny of 1857. In the chaos of the battlefield, Adam stumbles upon a valuable ruby necklace in a broken casket. With no way of finding its rightful owner and reluctant to hand it over to the East India Company, he decides to use it to start a new life for himself. Disillusioned by his experiences with the Mutiny and previously the Crimean War, Adam has been considering resigning from the army anyway and the money from the sale of the necklace will enable him to launch a new business venture.

On his return to England, Adam contemplates investing in railways but a better plan soon begins to emerge. What about the areas of the country that can’t be reached by train? He rides out into the countryside to investigate the possibility of a horse-drawn delivery service and after passing through Seddon Moss, a mill town near Manchester, he has his first encounter with the mill owner’s daughter, Henrietta Rawlinson, who is running away to avoid marriage to a man she doesn’t love. The rest of the novel follows the formation and expansion of Adam’s new business, Swann-on-Wheels, and his relationship with Henrietta as they marry and start a home and family.

At almost 700 pages in the edition I read, this book was quite a commitment, especially as I needed to finish it in time to review this week and should probably have started it earlier. However, once I became absorbed in the story, the pages went by a lot more quickly than I’d expected and I was sorry to reach the end.

While the Horseman Riding By books were set in the countryside with a focus on farming and rural life, this one is set in the very different world of trade, business and industry. It’s fascinating to see how Adam starts with nothing except some jewels and some good ideas and slowly builds up Swann-on-Wheels into a successful haulage company with depots all over the country. Adam gives each region a name (the Border Triangle, the Mountain Square, the Western Wedge…) and each one presents its own unique set of challenges and opportunities depending on the terrain, the existing infrastructure and the industries already operating in that area. He also puts a manager in charge of each area and although some of them are not much more than names on the page, others are brought to life and have adventures of their own.

The broad geographical setting and large number of characters allows Delderfield to address many specific topics and social issues relevant to life in Victorian Britain. Through Henrietta’s father, the miller Sam Rawlinson, we see first the dissatisfaction of the mill workers with their pay and working conditions and later the impact of the reduction in the supply of raw cotton due to the American Civil War. The fate of homeless children and the dangers facing young boys used as chimney sweeps are also explored – and if all of this makes you think of Charles Dickens, there’s a cameo appearance from the man himself as he and several of the Swann family become involved in the Staplehurst rail accident of 1865.

At the heart of the novel, though, is the relationship between Adam and Henrietta and how it develops as both characters grow and change and make discoveries about themselves and each other. Henrietta, being a lot younger than Adam, is immature, innocent and frivolous at the start of the novel and there’s a sense that although Adam loves her he doesn’t fully understand or respect her. It’s only after the introduction of another woman, Edith Wadsworth, into both their lives, that Henrietta begins to take control of her future and Adam comes to see her as more of an equal. Ironically, Edith, the daughter of one of Swann-on-Wheels’ area managers, is in love with Adam herself, but I won’t tell you what happens there or whether she acts on her feelings!

I think some readers will probably enjoy this book more for the Swann family storylines and others for the insights into the building of a business empire. I found both interesting and felt that Delderfield got the balance between the two just about right. I will be continuing with the second book, Theirs Was the Kingdom!

Book 45/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

Passenger to Frankfurt by Agatha Christie – #1970Club

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My second book for this week’s 1970 Club (hosted by Karen and Simon) also counts towards the Read Christie challenge where, for the final three months of the year, we are focusing on Agatha Christie books from the 1960s and 70s. I was a bit dubious about reading Passenger to Frankfurt as it seems to be widely considered one of her worst novels, but I want to read all of her books eventually anyway, so this seemed as good a time as any.

The novel begins with Sir Stafford Nye being delayed at Frankfurt Airport on his way home to England from a diplomatic mission in Malaya. When he is approached by a young woman who tells him that her life is in danger, Sir Stafford finds himself agreeing to lend her his passport and cloak so she can safely board the next flight to London in disguise. This is to be the first of several encounters Sir Stafford has with this woman; after he returns to London himself, having claimed to have been the victim of a theft, he places an advertisement in the newspaper in the hope of tracking her down, and their paths soon cross again.

None of this may seem particularly plausible, but at least it’s fun. Once Sir Stafford begins to learn more about his new acquaintance and her mission, however, things start to go downhill. He is pulled into a web of espionage and intrigue, which should be exciting but unfortunately isn’t, partly because there’s not much action – instead there are lots of long passages in which various people hold meetings and conferences to discuss the rise in youth movements and rebellions around the world. There are discussions of fascism, neo-Nazis, student protests, anarchy, drugs and weapons; Christie was eighty years old when this book was published and it seems that her view of the future was a very bleak one, in particular regarding the role young people would play.

This could still have been interesting, but Christie doesn’t manage to balance her political commentary with any kind of coherent plot, so all those conversations about youth unrest do become very repetitive and tedious, especially as the various conspiracy theories that arise are too outlandish to take seriously. There’s also a large number of characters, many of whom are introduced and then disappear again a few pages later. Apart from Sir Stafford and his mysterious female friend, the only one who really stands out is Sir Stafford’s Aunt Matilda, one of those no-nonsense old ladies Christie writes so well. Intriguingly, Matilda has an assistant, Amy Leatheran, who I assume is the same character who appeared in Murder in Mesopotamia, although no reference is made to her earlier adventures!

I often enjoy Christie’s thrillers and spy novels (They Came to Baghdad and The Man in the Brown Suit are favourites), but this one was a big disappointment and certainly the weakest of all the Christie novels I’ve read so far. I don’t regret reading it for 1970 Club, though, because, as I’ve said, I was going to read it at some point anyway. Definitely one for completists, in my opinion, and not the place to start if you’re new to Christie’s work.

Don’t Go to Sleep in the Dark by Celia Fremlin – #1970Club

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Today is the first day of 1970 Club, hosted by Kaggsy’s Bookish Ramblings and Stuck in a Book, and I’ve decided to begin with a book by an author who is rapidly becoming a favourite. I’ve read two of Celia Fremlin’s novels, Uncle Paul and The Long Shadow, and loved both, so I was curious to see what I would think of her short stories. Don’t Go to Sleep in the Dark is a collection first published by Gollancz in 1970 (although some websites say 1972, most say 1970 as do the copyright page and preface of the edition I read) and contains thirteen stories. While some are stronger than others, I can honestly say that they are all excellent.

The stories in this collection all have domestic settings, dealing with topics such as marriage, adultery, motherhood, and ageing, and all of them rely on the power of imagination to create a sense of unease. Although some of the stories hint at the supernatural, they are still grounded in reality. Fremlin has a real talent for taking ordinary, everyday situations and using them to build tension and fear.

The book gets off to a great start with The Quiet Game, the story of Hilda Meredith, a woman living in a flat in a high tower block who is struggling to keep her two young children quiet. Faced with constant complaints from the neighbours who claim they can hear every sound the children make – every shout, every laugh, every footstep – Hilda’s mental health begins to suffer as she desperately searches for games that can be played in silence:

From the point of view of the neighbours, it was she who was the cause and origin of all the stresses. She wasn’t the one who was being driven mad, Oh no. That’s what they would all have told you.

But madness has a rhythm of its own up there so near to the clouds; a rhythm that at first you would not recognise, so near is it, in the beginning, to the rhythms of ordinary, cheerful life.

I won’t tell you what happens to Hilda, but this story sets the tone for the rest of the book. Although the thirteen stories are all different and memorable in their own ways, they could all be described as psychological suspense, taking us deep inside the characters’ minds. At the same time, they have perfectly crafted plots, often with a surprise twist in the final paragraph that changes the way we think about everything that came before.

One of my favourite stories was The Baby-Sitter, in which a mother is persuaded to leave her young daughter with a babysitter for the first time so that she and her husband can spend the evening at the theatre. However, she’s not convinced that the tall, stern-looking Mrs Hahn is the right person to be left in charge of little Sally, who has been having nightmares about a ‘Hen with Great Big Eyes’. Her misgivings about Mrs Hahn grow stronger throughout the evening, but is she worrying about nothing? Yet another parent/child story – and another highlight – is Angel-Face, where a woman becomes exasperated by her stepson’s insistence that he is being visited by an angel every night. Things take a more sinister turn when it emerges that he thinks angels have beaks…

Celia Fremlin was in her fifties when this collection was published and three of her stories share the theme of growing older. In For Ever Fair, a story with a humorous twist, a middle-aged wife becomes jealous of her husband’s infatuation with a younger woman, while The Last Day of Spring and Old Daniel’s Treasure are both poignant tales with elderly protagonists and touch on the subject of dementia. Yet Fremlin writes equally convincingly about young characters: in The Hated House, sixteen-year-old Lorna has been left at home alone for the first time and is looking forward to a night without her father’s shouting and her mother’s obsessive cleaning and tidying. Then the telephone begins to ring continuously and an unexpected visitor arrives at the front door:

It was a light, a very light footstep on the garden path that next caught at her hearing; lightly up the steps, and then a fumbling at the front door. Not a knock; not a ring; just a fumbling, as of someone trying to unlock the door; someone too weak, or too blind, to turn the key.

“Be sure you bolt all the doors…” In her head Lorna seemed to hear these boring, familiar instructions not for the fiftieth time, but for the first… “Be sure you latch the kitchen window…Don’t answer the door to anyone you don’t know…”

There are still another six stories that I haven’t mentioned, but I think I’ll leave you to discover those for yourself if you read the book (which I hope you will as it’s such a great collection). As well as 1970 Club, I’m counting this towards the RIP XIX challenge as many of the stories are very unsettling and perfect for the time of year!

The Significance of Swans by Rhiannon Lewis

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In this fascinating new dystopian novella, Rhiannon Lewis expands on a short story from her 2021 collection I am the Mask Maker. When I read that short story, I actually mentioned in my review that it was one I found particularly intriguing and wished was longer, so I was pleased to learn that my wish had come true!

The book begins with Aeronwy visiting her brother at his farm on the Welsh coast. Just before she says goodbye and returns home, they spot the unusual sight of seven swans flying in formation through the winter sky. The next day thousands of disappearances are reported – not just in Aeronwy’s small corner of Wales, but all over the country and beyond.

As the days and weeks go by, the overnight ‘removals’, as they become known in the media, continue. Every morning, people awake to find an empty space in their bed, the impression left by their partner’s body still visible; every morning, adults fail to arrive at work and children fail to attend school. Aeronwy and her husband do their best to continue with their lives, hoping that whoever or whatever is behind the removals will leave them alone, but the rapidly declining population means that public services and infrastructure are affected and soon there’s no more television, no more radio, no way of finding out what’s going on in the outside world. Eventually, the inevitable happens and Aeronwy’s husband is removed. She sets out alone to make the hundred-mile journey to her brother’s farm, in the hope that he might still be alive, but what will she find when she gets there?

I don’t read many post-apocalyptic novels, but I find that most of them tend to tackle the same questions. What caused the apocalyptic event? Is there a reason why some people were able to survive and not others? If we meet another human being, can they be trusted or will they see us a threat to their own survival? Will it be possible to build a better world from the ruins of the old one? In The Significance of Swans, Rhiannon Lewis does explore these things and provides some answers, while leaving other issues open to interpretation. What makes this book different from others I’ve read is the idea of the seven swans, glimpsed by Aeronwy and her brother the day before the removals begin. The swans appear to have some significance, but what is it?

With the whole book being written from Aeronwy’s perspective, this means we only get a limited view of what is going on, particularly once communication with the rest of the world is lost and she finds herself alone with nobody to talk to. Yet it’s fascinating to see things through Aeronwy’s eyes and to watch this ordinary middle-aged woman from Wales try to make sense of her situation. I thoroughly enjoyed this unusual novella and thought it was the perfect length – long enough to develop the themes hinted at in the shorter version from I am the Mask Maker and short enough to keep things moving at a steady pace without ever becoming boring. I received a copy for review courtesy of Y Lolfa, an independent Welsh publisher. You can find out more about this and the other books they publish here.

Midnight in Vienna by Jane Thynne

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It’s 1938 and Stella Fry has just returned to London from Austria, where she has been working as a private tutor for a Jewish family in Vienna. With the worsening political situation in Europe, the family decided to leave for the safety of New York, and Stella has found herself back home with no job. Famous mystery writer Hubert Newman is advertising for someone to type up his new manuscript and Stella applies for the position. After meeting with Newman and being offered the job, she is shocked when she learns the next day that he has been found dead. Another shock follows twenty-four hours later when she receives the manuscript of his new book, Masquerade, and finds that he has dedicated it To Stella, spotter of mistakes.

Harry Fox is a former Special Branch detective who left the police force under a shadow, but is still carrying out unofficial intelligence work, spying on suspected communists. He has reason to believe that Hubert Newman’s death was not a natural one and when his path crosses with Stella’s and he discovers that she had lunch with the author the day before he died, the two team up to investigate.

I really enjoyed Midnight in Vienna; the only negative thing I can say about it is that Stella was a bit too trusting of strangers and too quick to put herself in dangerous situations without thinking of the consequences. The biggest example comes very early in the novel when, having only just met Harry Fox, she agrees to travel back to Vienna alone on the trail of someone possibly implicated in Hubert’s murder – at a time when everyone else is trying to get out of Austria. However, I can forgive this because the Vienna sections of the book are so well done, perfectly illustrating the mood in Austria during that period which followed the annexation by Nazi Germany.

With Hubert Newman being an author, there’s also a literary element to the novel. Newman (a fictional character, by the way) is a member of the Detection Club, a real-life society of prominent British mystery writers, and Harry Fox’s investigations lead to a meeting with one of the founding members, Dorothy L. Sayers. She only makes a brief cameo appearance but I thought the way Thynne portrayed her character was very convincing. As well as the literary world, we also get a glimpse of the theatrical world of the 1930s through Stella’s actress friend, Evelyn, so there’s a lot going on outside of the central mystery.

This is the first of Jane Thynne’s novels I’ve read. It seems that most of her previous books are similar wartime/espionage thrillers and having enjoyed this one so much I’m sure I’ll be reading more of them. I’m also wondering whether there will be a sequel to this book as I think there’s plenty of scope for some of these characters to return for a second adventure.

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

Book 44/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024