Category: Reviews

All-of-a-Kind Family by Sydney Taylor

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I’m ashamed to say I had never come across this classic American children’s novel until Constance of Staircase Wit recommended it when I commented on one of her reviews that I would like to read more about life on New York’s Lower East Side. Constance kindly sent me a copy, which I have now read and enjoyed!

First published in 1951, the book follows five young sisters through a year of their childhood in 1912. Ella, at twelve, is the oldest and four-year-old Gertie is the youngest, with Henny (Henrietta), Sarah and Charlotte in between. They are known as an ‘all-of-a-kind family’ due to being all girls – or, as the librarian refers to them, a ‘step-and-stairs family’ because of their evenly spaced ages. They live in an apartment on the Lower East Side and Papa runs a junk shop nearby while Mama looks after the children and their home.

In the first chapter, Sarah is upset because a friend has borrowed her library book and lost it. She’s sure she’ll be in big trouble and banned from going to the library ever again. However, the librarian, Miss Allen, is sympathetic and, knowing that the family would be offended by charity, she agrees to let Sarah pay for the book one penny a week. Miss Allen becomes a good friend to the girls after this and we meet her again later in the book, but meanwhile there are lots of other adventures to be had – including making a fun game from dusting the apartment, going to the market with Mama, and getting lost at Coney Island.

This is such a charming book, I’m sure I would have loved it as a child. The five girls are all very endearing and Taylor gives them all individual personalities of their own. Ella, being nearly a teenager, is the most mature of the sisters and is beginning to form romantic attachments; ten-year-old Henny is independent and rebellious, while Sarah is more studious. The two youngest girls are less well developed, but Gertie, the baby of the family, looks up to Charlotte who is two years older and they have a particularly close relationship.

One of the most interesting things about this book is that the girls belong to a Jewish family, so we are given lots of descriptions of them preparing for Jewish holidays such as Purim and Passover (as well as celebrating the Fourth of July) – and because the girls are so young, Mama and Papa explain to them the meanings of each custom and tradition, which can be very helpful for non-Jewish readers! Not many of the books I remember reading as a child featured children who were anything other than Christian, so it’s good to know that this book existed even if I wasn’t aware of it.

This is a lovely book (and also the first in a series). Thanks to Constance for introducing me to it.

The Elopement by Gill Hornby

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This is the third novel Gill Hornby has written based on the lives of members of Jane Austen’s extended family. I loved Miss Austen and Godmersham Park, so I was looking forward to reading The Elopement, which focuses on Jane’s niece, Fanny Knight, and Fanny’s stepdaughter, Mary Dorothea Knatchbull.

Fanny’s father is Jane’s brother Edward, who was made the legal heir of their wealthy Knight relatives and inherited three estates at Steventon, Chawton and Godmersham (Fanny appears as a secondary character in Godmersham Park). For a long time it seems likely that Fanny is going to remain a spinster until, in 1820, she marries Sir Edward Knatchbull of Mersham-le-Hatch at the age of twenty-eight. She doesn’t love him and he doesn’t love her, but Fanny has always been a practical person and decides that it could still be a marriage that works well for both of them.

Sir Edward has five children from his previous marriage and Fanny is sure she can be a good stepmother to them. However, there’s tension between Fanny and the only daughter, Mary Dorothea, from the beginning. Fanny is not a naturally loving or compassionate person and Mary finds it impossible to warm to her, viewing her as aloof and distant. Things come to a head when Mary falls in love with a man her father considers unsuitable. She knows she can expect no empathy or understanding from Fanny, so is forced to do something drastic.

It took me a while to get into this book. The pacing is uneven, with the first half being very slow and the second much more gripping. The title is maybe slightly misleading, as the elopement doesn’t happen until late in the book and doesn’t really play a big part in the story, although the buildup and consequences do. I think I would have preferred not to have known there was going to be an elopement so I wouldn’t have spent most of the book wondering when it was going to happen.

Hornby focuses less on Mary Dorothea’s romance and more on the relationship between stepmother and stepdaughter, which gets off to a bad start and worsens throughout the book. I went from feeling sympathetic towards Fanny to disliking her more and more as she tries to align herself with her husband’s views and closes her mind to Mary’s feelings. Still, the portrayal of Fanny and Sir Edward’s marriage illustrates the limited options available to 19th century women who would often marry out of duty, necessity or to meet society’s expectations. Mary is trying to do something different and marry for love.

In her author’s note at the end of the book, Hornby explains that she has based the novel on Fanny Knight’s own diaries which she kept from 1804 to 1872. I haven’t read the diaries so I don’t know how the personality of the real Fanny compares to the fictional one, but I was sorry not to have liked her more considering that Jane Austen apparently described her as her “favourite niece”.

I’ve learned that following the recent TV adaptation of Miss Austen which was shown earlier this year, The Elopement is also going to be adapted under the title Miss Austen Returns (I’m not sure why they’ve missed out Godmersham Park). Cassandra Austen, the star of Miss Austen, only appears once or twice in this book so I imagine she’s going to be given a much bigger role in the new adaptation. I’ll be interested to see what Gill Hornby’s next book will be about; I’m sure there’s still more she could write about the Austen family and there seems to be a never-ending appetite for it by readers and TV viewers!

Thanks to Random House UK, Cornerstone for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Katabasis by RF Kuang

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Alice Law is an American PhD student who is studying Analytic Magick under the guidance of Professor Jacob Grimes at Cambridge University. Along with her equally brilliant rival, Peter Murdoch, Alice is considered the most gifted student in the department, but sometimes spells can still go wrong and she is horrified when Professor Grimes steps inside one of her pentagrams and is whisked away to hell. How will she finish her degree without Grimes to advise her? The only thing to do is to enter hell herself and bring him back.

A decision to go to hell is not something that should be taken lightly, particularly as the price of going and coming back again is half of a person’s remaining lifespan, but Alice feels she has no choice, especially as she was responsible for the disaster. However, she’s not at all pleased when Peter Murdoch insists on coming with her. She and Peter were once friends but their academic rivalry has driven them apart. Will they be able to work together to navigate their way through hell and rescue Professor Grimes?

RF Kuang is an author I keep seeing on other blogs I follow, but I’ve never tried one of her books myself until now. Whether this was the best one I could have started with I don’t know – the premise certainly sounded fascinating and there were plenty of things I enjoyed about the book, but overall it didn’t quite deliver for me. I think a big part of the problem is that I found Alice difficult to like; Peter was a more engaging character, but apart from some flashbacks to his early life, we don’t see much of the story through his eyes. Professor Grimes was even less sympathetic – the more I learned about him, the less I cared whether he was rescued or not and the weaker Alice’s motive for following him into hell became.

Hell is an unusual setting, although there have obviously been several classics set there, including Dante’s Inferno, which are referred to repeatedly throughout the book as Alice and Peter discuss the experiences of those who have visited the underworld before them. Kuang’s portrayal of hell draws on many different sources, including Dante with his circles based on various sins, and elements of Greek, Chinese and other mythologies. I particularly enjoyed reading about the Weaver Girl who presents Peter and Alice with a challenge to determine whether one, both or neither will cross the River Lethe, as well as their first encounters with Shades and creepy ‘bone-things’. I was a bit confused, though, because the entire underworld seems to be populated by students and magicians and as our protagonists wander through the ‘Eight Courts of Hell’, they find that one resembles a library and another a campus. Where did all the people from other walks of life go? Was there a separate hell for everyone else?

Katabasis (the title is from the Ancient Greek term for a descent into the underworld) falls firmly into the ‘dark academia’ subgenre as well as fantasy. As well as all the characters being academics and hell resembling a university, Alice and Peter also have lots of long, detailed discussions about algorithms, paradoxes and the science of magic. None of this interested me very much and I felt it slowed the story down, but I’m sure other readers will get more out of these sections than I did. One thing that did intrigue me was the time period in which the book is set. I assumed at first that it was a contemporary setting, but then came across lots of references to music, culture and scientific developments that seem to place the book in the late 1980s. It didn’t seem to have any actual relevance to the plot, so I’m curious to know why Kuang chose this particular period.

I’m pleased to have had the opportunity to try a book by Kuang at last, but based on this one I don’t think she’s an author for me.

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

The House of Seymour by Joanna Hickson

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I’ve enjoyed some of Joanna Hickson’s previous historical fiction novels, so I was looking forward to reading her latest one, The House of Seymour, which is the first in a new trilogy. Sadly, I found it disappointing and I probably won’t be continuing with the next two books, but there were still enough things to like that I don’t feel I’ve wasted my time.

This book is not about Henry VIII’s wife Jane Seymour as you might expect, but her ancestors – specifically her great-great-grandmother, Isabel Williams, and her husband, John Seymour. We first meet Isabel, the daughter of a wealthy merchant, in 1424 when she becomes betrothed to John, the ambitious Lord of Wolf Hall in Savernake Forest, Wiltshire. From very early in their marriage, it becomes clear that their relationship is not going to be a happy one. John is a cruel and ruthless man preoccupied with political advancement and winning the support of the Duke of Gloucester, protector of the young king, Henry VI.

Isabel finds some solace in her relationship with John’s young cousin Edmund, a much kinder man than her husband, and also a new friendship with Jess, a shepherdess who has been forced to leave her home near the village of Avebury. Jess and a farm hand, Addy (Adhelm), had taken shelter from a storm in the Long Barrow – an ancient burial chamber – only for Addy to disappear without trace. Accused of witchcraft, Jess takes refuge at Easton Priory where she meets Isabel and is given a position in her household.

The narrative is divided mainly between Isabel and Jess, although we also occasionally see things from the perspective of John and other characters. The voices and attitudes of both women felt too modern for my taste – I prefer to feel fully immersed in the period when I read historical fiction – so I couldn’t quite manage to believe in them as convincing 15th century people. As my blogging friend Jessica of The Bookworm Chronicles explains in her review, even using the name Jess is an anachronism.

I did love the setting – or rather settings, as there are two main ones. The first is Wolf Hall, or Wulfhall to use the spelling of the time, which becomes home to Isabel’s family after John inherits the wardenship of Savernake Forest. The other is Avebury, an atmospheric place with its Neolithic stone circles, ancient barrows and monuments. Although the characters do sometimes cross paths with members of the royal court, most of the book takes place in these two settings and the surrounding areas so the focus is mostly on Isabel’s household and Jess and her family. The problem here is that none of the characters really came to life for me and most of them lacked depth. The book as a whole felt a lot lighter and less substantial than Hickson’s other recent ones.

Although I didn’t enjoy this book as much as I would have liked, it was still good to learn a little bit about the Seymour family and their history. I’m probably not going to read the second book when it comes out, but I’ll be interested to hear whether it’s stronger than this one.

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

The Living Stones: Cornwall by Ithell Colquhoun

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Earlier this year I enjoyed reading Ithell Colquhoun’s The Crying of the Wind, an account of the author’s travels around Ireland, so I decided to read her other travel book, The Living Stones, published two years later in 1957. This one is inspired by her visits to Cornwall in the late 1940s, where she came in search of escape from post-war London. As an artist, she wanted a suitable property to use as an occasional refuge where she could paint in peace and in 1949 she purchased Vow Cave, a small wooden studio with very basic living facilities.

Vow Cave (Colquhoun tells us that Vow is derived from vugha, the Cornish word for cave) is in the village of Lamorna on the Penwith peninsula a few miles from Penzance. Although she writes about the landscape, the surrounding countryside and some local places of interest, this book isn’t really a travelogue in the same sense as The Crying of the Wind, where the author described trips and excursions to different areas of Ireland. Instead, she explores the culture and history of Cornwall in general, with chapters devoted to separate topics, giving it almost the feel of a collection of short essays.

Lots of Cornish customs and rituals are discussed, ranging from the Gorsedh of Cornwall, or gathering of the bards, and the ‘Obby ‘Oss (hobby horse) festival in Padstow to the Furry Day celebrations which mark the arrival of spring (the name likely has nothing to do with fur and comes from the Cornish word for ‘fair’ or ‘feast’). There’s a chapter on traditional Cornish foods such as potato cakes, Cornish cream and the Cornish pasty, and another on folk medicine and witchcraft – Colquhoun has a particular interest in the occult. Some sections are fascinating, although there were others where I found my attention wandering.

Both books I’ve read by this author feel random and meandering, lacking in focus. I found that the best way to read them was in small doses, a few short chapters at a time alternating with other books, rather than straight through from beginning to end. As a pair, they’re definitely worth reading if you have any interest in Ireland or Cornwall, and I did learn a lot from them. Colquhoun has also written a novel, Goose of Hermogenes, which sounds intriguing!

Thanks to Pushkin Press Classics for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

The Portrait Artist by Dani Heywood-Lonsdale

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Dani Heywood-Lonsdale’s debut novel, The Portrait Artist, is an art mystery set in Victorian England with hints of the supernatural and some similarities to Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray.

When a portrait of a Kunekune pig is left on the steps of the National Gallery in London one morning in 1890, it sends the art world into turmoil. Both the signature and the technique point to the artist being the mysterious Timothy Ponden-Hall, thought to have been dead for the last fifty years. Ponden-Hall, an explorer and painter, caused a sensation earlier in his career, when rumours spread that he had discovered the elixir of life during a sea voyage and was using it to bestow immortality on those who sat for his portraits. Does this new portrait mean the artist is still alive – and why has he started to paint again after so many decades of silence?

Art historian and Ponden-Hall expert Solomon Oak is brought in to investigate, but as he tries to interpret the new painting and its meaning, he makes some discoveries that cause him to question everything he thought he knew about the reclusive artist. Meanwhile Solomon’s daughter Alice has been befriended by Lou, the coachwoman, who gives her a job helping to deliver parcels. But why do their deliveries always take place under cover of darkness – and could Alice’s new job and new friend lead her to solve the mystery of Ponden-Hall before her father gets there first?

I enjoyed The Portrait Artist. My only problem with the book came towards the end, when the truth about Ponden-Hall was revealed. It wasn’t exactly a surprise – I had already at least partly guessed it – but it required a huge suspension of disbelief which was just too difficult for me to accept. Still, the story up to that point had been fascinating to follow. Solomon and Alice Oak are both characters I liked and I thought the complex relationship between them was handled well, with Alice feeling that she can never quite live up to the memory of her late sister Emma, who had been the closest to their father. Solomon, for his part, has to come to terms with Alice growing into a woman and not wanting to follow the path through life he has mapped out for her. Another interesting character is Grace, an artists’ model from a humble background who longs to be part of the world of academia and sees a possible route to that by involving herself in the Ponden-Hall mystery.

Heywood-Lonsdale explores a lot of different issues throughout the novel, including the idea of the dead being immortalised through art, both literally and figuratively; how adding to our knowledge of the artist and the sitter can change the way we view and appreciate a painting; and the difficulties of being of mixed race heritage in Victorian society. The supernatural element involving the question of whether youth can be preserved in a painting is mainly there to explain the level of mystique that has formed around Timothy Ponden-Hall and we can choose how much we want to believe.

Apart from my problems with the ending, I think this is an impressive first novel and I hope Dani Heywood-Lonsdale will write more.

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

The Silent Companions by Laura Purcell

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I decided to read this for the 20 Books of Summer challenge in preparation for the sequel, House of Splinters, coming out in October. I’m not sure how closely connected the two books will be, but it made sense to read The Silent Companions first and as I’ve enjoyed other books by Laura Purcell I was sure I would like this one anyway.

The novel begins in 1865 with Elsie Bainbridge arriving at The Bridge, her late husband’s family estate near the village of Fayford. Elsie only married Rupert a month earlier but already he is dead, leaving her a widow and pregnant with his child. She has come to The Bridge for the funeral and to spend the duration of her pregnancy, accompanied by Sarah, a cousin of Rupert’s.

From the moment she sets eyes on the house, Elsie has an uneasy feeling about it, which only increases when she learns that The Bridge has a bad reputation in the village and there’s been difficulty finding servants because no one wants to work there. Then, in a locked room upstairs she and Sarah discover a painted wooden figure that bears a striking resemblance to Elsie herself. What is this ‘silent companion’ and why does it seem to have a mind of its own? The answers can be found in a two-hundred-year-old diary written by Anne Bainbridge, who lived in the house with her husband and daughter, Hetta, during the reign of King Charles I.

The narrative switches back and forth between Anne’s story in 1635 and Elsie’s in 1865 and there are also some chapters set in St Joseph’s Hospital at an unspecified point in the future. The hospital is an asylum and we learn that Elsie has been sent there following a fire at The Bridge which has left her badly burned and unable to speak. It seems that Elsie has been accused of murder and her doctor suggests that if she writes down everything she can remember, beginning with her arrival at The Bridge, it might be enough to save her from execution.

Although I felt that the framing story in the hospital wasn’t really necessary (maybe because the ‘woman sent to an asylum by family members’ trope is one I come across such a lot in novels with Victorian settings), I did really enjoy the book as a whole. I loved the atmosphere Purcell creates, which grows increasingly tense and sinister as more and more strange occurrences take place at The Bridge and the silent companions multiply in number. Silent companions really existed; also known as dummy boards, they originated in the 17th century – the National Trust has some information about them here and some pictures which show how lifelike they were.

The story that unfolds through Anne’s diary is fascinating. After having several sons, she uses herbs to try to conceive a daughter and when that daughter, Hetta, is born with a damaged tongue and without the ability to speak, Anne believes it was her fault for using witchcraft. The child is shunned by her father and hidden away from society, where she becomes associated with the sense of evil that seems to be spreading throughout the house and the Bainbridge family. It’s Anne who first acquires the silent companions and brings them home, creating the link between her own life and Elsie’s two centuries later.

This is not a book where everything is neatly tied up at the end. There are questions left unanswered and several possible theories to consider. I usually prefer an explanation, but in this case I was happy to be left wondering. I’m looking forward to House of Splinters now!

Book 20/20 for 20 Books of Summer 2025.