Category: Reviews

The Beholders by Hester Musson

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

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

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

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

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

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

Book 2/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

The Secret of Chimneys by Agatha Christie

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I’m taking part in Read Christie again this year and the theme for 2024 is Agatha Christie: Through the Decades. Each quarter will focus on a different decade or decades – 20s, 30s, 40s/50s and 60s/70s. For my January read, I have chosen The Secret of Chimneys, which was published in 1925.

The Secret of Chimneys is the first of five novels featuring Superintendent Battle and is more of a thriller than a traditional murder mystery. I usually enjoy the lighter, more adventurous feel of Christie’s thrillers and although this one hasn’t turned out to be a favourite, I did find it very enjoyable. It involves political intrigue in the fictitious Balkan country of Herzoslovakia where attempts are under way to restore the monarchy.

The novel begins in Africa, where Anthony Cade is working as a tour guide when he meets an old friend, James McGrath, in Bulawayo. Anthony agrees to carry out two important tasks for McGrath – firstly, to deliver the manuscript of a memoir written by Count Stylptitch of Herzoslovakia to a London publisher, and secondly, to return a packet of letters to a woman who is being blackmailed. As soon as he arrives in England, however, he discovers that there are other people interested in both the manuscript and the letters, and they will stop at nothing – including murder – to get what they want.

Most of the action takes place at Chimneys, a country estate belonging to Lord Caterham, who invites Anthony to attend a house party at the request of George Lomax, a politician hoping to get his hands on the Stylptitch memoir. With a large and varied group of people gathered at Chimneys – including a beautiful widow, a French governess, a representative from a British oil syndicate and an American collector of rare books – there’s no shortage of suspects when a murder occurs and Superintendent Battle is called in to investigate.

As I’ve said, this is not just a straightforward murder mystery and Christie throws all sorts of things into the plot, from treasure hunts and coded letters to secret societies and international jewel thieves. It’s fun to read, but does need some suspension of disbelief! You also need to be prepared for a lot of racist language, which isn’t unexpected in a Christie novel – or many other 1920s novels – but it seems more excessive in this particular book, maybe because of the large number of characters of other nationalities and races. Other than that, this is an entertaining, fast paced read, written in a light and humorous style that reminded me of PG Wodehouse.

Although Anthony Cade seems to do a lot of the detecting in this book, Battle himself has a larger role than in some of the others in which he appears. He’s certainly no Poirot or Miss Marple, being rather stolid and unimaginative, with what is described as an ‘expressionless face’, but he gets on with his job quietly and unobtrusively and plays a small but important part in the final solving of the mystery. Did I solve it myself? Well, yes and no. I guessed the identity of the jewel thief, King Victor, but there were other revelations that took me by surprise.

This was a good start to a new year of Christie reading! Next month I’m hoping to read The Seven Dials Mystery, another 1920s novel which features some of the same characters.

Silence by Shūsaku Endō

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Translated by William Johnston

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Witch’s Daughter by Imogen Edwards-Jones

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Long Shadow by Celia Fremlin

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With its snowy cover welcoming us to ‘The Nightmare Christmas Holiday’, I wondered if I had left it too late to read this book and should have waited for December to come around again, but I needn’t have worried – there’s actually very little mention of Christmas and the cover is clearly just a marketing device by the publisher. It worked perfectly for me as an early January read and has helped my 2024 get off to a great start. It’s not really surprising that I enjoyed it as Fremlin’s earlier novel, Uncle Paul, was one of the best books I read last year.

First published in 1975, The Long Shadow opens two months after Imogen Barnicott’s husband, Ivor, is killed in a car accident. As a renowned Professor of Classics, Ivor’s death causes an outpouring of grief from students, academics and colleagues from around the world – in fact, Ivor seems to be mourned more by people who barely knew him than by members of his own family. Imogen’s own feelings certainly appear to be mixed; she can’t help reflecting on how much Ivor would have loved the attention that comes with being dead and how annoyed he must be that he’s not around to enjoy it! While she misses Ivor’s presence around the house, she also welcomes having the freedom to do whatever she wants at last. However, this freedom is very short-lived because, as Christmas approaches, her adult stepchildren descend upon the house with their partners and children in tow, as does one of Ivor’s ex-wives, who has just arrived from Bermuda.

Imogen just wants to move on with her life, but that’s going to be difficult with so many uninvited guests. And when she receives a late night telephone call from a stranger accusing her of Ivor’s murder, it seems that someone else is determined to stop her from moving on as well. As New Year comes and goes, there are more unexplained incidents: one of Ivor’s books is found open on the arm of his chair, the grandchildren insist they’ve seen a ‘wizard’ in Grandpa’s room…and Imogen’s anonymous caller refuses to leave her alone. Does Imogen know more about her husband’s death than she’s prepared to admit?

The Long Shadow is a slower paced book than Uncle Paul and although there’s plenty of dark humour, it’s not quite as funny either. However, like Uncle Paul, it has a wonderfully unsettling atmosphere and a sense of increasing suspense and tension. Fremlin does an excellent job of making the reader question everything we are being told. Is Imogen being completely honest with us or could she be an unreliable narrator? Is there a logical explanation for what is happening or a supernatural one? And is Ivor even really dead? Fremlin leads our thoughts in first one direction and then another until we’re not really sure what to think or believe.

Although there are elements of mystery, this is not really a ‘crime novel’ – we don’t even know whether a crime has actually been committed; ‘psychological thriller’ is a better description, but even then it’s not a conventional thriller either. What it is more than anything is an examination of widowhood, the process of grieving and all the little complexities that follow a death in the family. Imogen finds it particularly difficult to cope because she isn’t given the space to mourn alone; not only does she have letters of condolence to answer from all corners of the globe (How he would have loved to watch the letters pouring in, day after day, by every post, in their tens and in their dozens, each one a tribute to himself…), she also has her neighbour Edith constantly regaling her with tales of her own late husband, Darling Desmond, as well as a house full of lodgers and family members all outstaying their welcome.

The plot becomes quite gripping towards the end, when it seems that the truth is about to be revealed – but although we do get answers to most of our questions, the final sentence provides one last, surprising twist! I’m glad I picked such an enjoyable book to start the year with and I see my library has The Hours Before Dawn, so I could be tempted to read more Celia Fremlin soon.

A Pink Front Door by Stella Gibbons

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My second book for this year’s Dean Street December, hosted by Liz at Adventures in Reading, Running and Working from Home, is Stella Gibbons’ 1959 novel A Pink Front Door. I didn’t love the only other Gibbons book I’ve read, Cold Comfort Farm – I know I’m in the minority, but I just didn’t find it as funny as everyone says it is – so I wanted to give her another chance. I’m pleased to report that I enjoyed this one much more.

The house with the pink front door is home to Daisy and James Muir and their baby son (whom Daisy always refers to as James Too). Daisy is one of those people everyone turns to when they are in need of help and who enjoys trying to solve their problems for them. In post-war London these problems often involve housing and the novel opens with Daisy finding new lodgings for Tibbs, an Eastern European refugee who is struggling to settle into a new life, and Molly Raymond, a young woman who keeps embarrassing herself by chasing after unsuitable men. However, when Daisy’s old university friend, Don, tells her that he is also searching for somewhere to live with his wife and three young children, this proves to be much more of a challenge. Daisy knows that Mrs Cavendish has the whole top floor of her house available to rent, but will that snobbish woman agree to share her home with people who are ‘not her sort’?

The novel shifts between the perspectives of some of the characters mentioned above and also several others, including Daisy’s elderly aunts, Marcia and Ella, who have lived together for many years since neither of their lives went quite the way they had expected when they were younger. Through the stories of Marcia and Ella, Gibbons explores some of the issues facing older unmarried women, as well as the different but equally frustrating ones faced by younger, married women – Don’s wife Katy, for example, who has a degree in chemistry which she is unable to use because she’s now looking after three children and being treated like a servant by Mrs Cavendish in return for the use of her spare rooms.

For most of the book, the plot moves along at a slow, steady pace; I would describe this as much more of a character-driven novel and I did enjoy getting to know all of the characters, even the unpleasant ones. There’s some drama later on when Daisy’s long-suffering husband begins to lose patience with being neglected all the time and decides to take drastic action – and then another dramatic development right at the end of the book which was unexpected and, in my opinion, unnecessary. Still, I got on with A Pink Front Door better than I did with the much more popular Cold Comfort Farm. I’m glad I decided to try Stella Gibbons again and am looking forward to reading more of her work now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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