Category: Reviews

The Six Murders of Daphne St Clair by MacKenzie Common

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End of the Affair by Graham Greene

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

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

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

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

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

Book 14/20 for 20 Books of Summer 2025.

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

The Emerald Shawl by Louise Douglas

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Masquerade Balls in Regency Britain by Anne Glover

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sinners by Elizabeth Fremantle

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Elizabeth Fremantle is an author I’ve been following since her first book, Queen’s Gambit, was published in 2013. I’ve enjoyed all of her novels, to varying degrees, but I think her latest one, Sinners, is the best so far. It’s the story of the Italian noblewoman, Beatrice Cenci, and is a very dark and powerful read.

The book begins in Rome in 1598 with Beatrice discovering the dead body of her brother Rocco, a victim of one of her father’s long-running feuds. To avoid any further retaliations, the family flee to La Rocca, a hunting lodge in the mountains, but this proves not to be a place of safety for Beatrice as her father, Francesco Cenci, becomes increasingly cruel and unpredictable, abusing her physically, verbally and sexually. Her stepmother, Lucrezia, and younger half-brother, Bernardo, are also targets for his brutal violence and abuse, while her other brother, Giacomo, who is gay, remains estranged from the family, forced to communicate with Beatrice in secret.

As life behind the walls of La Rocca becomes more and more unbearable, Beatrice finds some solace in her growing friendship with Olimpio Calvetti, one of her father’s servants. When she becomes pregnant with Olimpio’s child, Beatrice fears for their lives if her father learns the truth – especially if he also learns that Beatrice has been reporting him to the authorities for his abusive behaviour! And so Beatrice comes up with a plan which, if it works, could set them all free, but if it fails could leave them in even more danger than before.

As you’ll be able to tell, Sinners is not an easy or comfortable book to read. Francesco Cenci is one of the most wicked, depraved characters you’re likely to come across in fiction and the way he treats his wife and children is unimaginably cruel. Knowing that he was a real person and that his family really did suffer at his hands makes it even more horrible to read about. It also makes it easy for the reader to have sympathy for Beatrice when she decides to take action, although Fremantle explains in her author’s note that her intention in writing the book was to portray Beatrice as a complex woman who is both innocent and guilty, saint and sinner, something which I think she achieves.

Fremantle also uses her author’s note to clarify where the book sticks to historical fact and where she uses her imagination to produce a compelling work of fiction. I found it particularly fascinating to read about the famous portrait of Beatrice Cenci, attributed to Guido Reni, which is now thought to be by Ginevra Cantofoli and maybe not even a portrait of Beatrice at all. Fremantle works the painting of the portrait into the plot in an interesting way, showing how it was used to evoke sympathy for Beatrice from the public.

I love the way Fremantle recreates the feel of late-16th century Italy and although it’s set a decade or two earlier, Sinners makes a good companion novel to Disobedient, her book about Artemisia Gentileschi. Artemisia’s story even overlaps with Beatrice’s in the first chapter. I’m looking forward to seeing who and what Fremantle decides to write about next!

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

Book 13/20 for 20 Books of Summer 2025.

The Lily and the Lion by Maurice Druon #ParisinJuly2025

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Translated by Humphrey Hare

I always seem to forget about Paris in July, but this year I remembered in time and decided it would be the perfect opportunity to get back to Maurice Druon’s Accursed Kings series, which I started years ago and still haven’t finished! The Lily and the Lion (first published in French in 1959) is the sixth of seven books telling the story of Philip IV the Fair of France and the kings who follow him, said to have been cursed “to the thirteenth generation” by the vengeful Grand Master of the Knights Templar as he burned at the stake. Les Rois maudits, to give the series its French title, was very successful in France, being adapted for television twice, and has also been credited by George R.R. Martin as the inspiration for Game of Thrones.

The first book in the series is The Iron King and I would recommend starting there if possible. If you don’t have much knowledge of this period of French history (which I certainly didn’t), reading the books in order makes it easier to gradually understand the historical context and the relationships between the various characters. One character who has been with us since book one is Robert of Artois and his story becomes the main focus of book six.

The Lily and the Lion begins with the death of yet another French king, Charles IV. With no direct heir, his cousin Philippe of Valois is chosen as his successor, thanks largely to the machinations of Robert of Artois. In return for helping Philippe to the throne, Robert has been promised the new king’s support in reclaiming his lands of Artois which he believes have been stolen from him by his Aunt Mahaut. A large part of the book is devoted to the dispute over Artois, which is more exciting than it sounds as Robert is prepared to go to any lengths, including forgery, perjury and murder, to get what he wants – and Mahaut is equally determined to stop him.

In England, meanwhile, Philip the Fair’s daughter Isabella and her lover, Roger Mortimer, are now effectively ruling the country after deposing her husband, Edward II. However, Isabella and Edward’s son, the young Edward III, is almost old enough to take control of the throne himself and is planning to overthrow Mortimer. Thanks to some encouragement from Robert of Artois, who has lost patience with Philippe of Valois, Edward III also sets his sights on the throne of France, believing he has a claim through his mother. The seeds of the Hundred Years’ War have been sown!

For a long time, The Lily and the Lion was the last book in the series, until the publication of The King Without a Kingdom many years later in 1977. It does feel like a final book, as Druon ties up loose ends and brings his various storylines to a conclusion. I had wondered if he would return to the story of Marie de Cressay and Guccio Baglioni’s son, Jean, switched as a baby with John the Posthumous, the young King of France who supposedly died aged four days old – and he does, right at the end of the book in the epilogue. This felt very much like an afterthought, though, and I would have liked to have at least had some glimpses of Jean’s life in the main part of the novel.

Although I preferred the earlier books in the series, I did enjoy reading this one and seeing Robert and Mahaut’s long-running feud finally come to an end. I’ve heard that the final book is very different and not as good, but I’m sure I’ll read it eventually – maybe for next year’s Paris in July!

Book 12/20 for 20 Books of Summer 2025.

A Case of Life and Limb by Sally Smith

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If, like me, you enjoyed meeting Sir Gabriel Ward KC in last year’s A Case of Mice and Murder, you’ll be pleased to hear that he’s back again with another mystery to solve in A Case of Life and Limb! The book is again set in 1901 in and around London’s Inner Temple, one of the four Inns of Court, where Sir Gabriel lives and carries out his work as a barrister. It’s not necessary to have read the first book before this one, but I would highly recommend reading both anyway!

Early in the novel, Gabriel is approached by Topsy Tillotson, the latest young star of the London theatrical scene, who is determined to sue a tabloid newspaper for libel. Reluctant to accept the case at first, Gabriel ends up agreeing to represent her, feeling that Topsy doesn’t deserve to have her reputation tarnished by unscrupulous journalists. However, Gabriel soon finds that he’ll have to divide his time between this and another, more sinister, case…one which really is ‘a case of life and limb’.

Sir William Waring, Master Treasurer of the Inner Temple, has received a very unpleasant gift on Christmas Eve: a severed hand, presented in a box with a card asking Can I give you a hand? Gabriel happens to be visiting the Treasurer when the box is opened and, due to his previous success at mystery solving, Waring asks him to investigate. As the Temple is outside the jurisdiction of the City of London, Waring hopes the crime can be solved internally without involving the police, but when more body parts start arriving, Gabriel enlists the help of his friend, Constable Wright.

These two separate cases unfold in parallel, largely separate but intersecting now and then, and I enjoyed following both. The mystery surrounding the body parts gives Gabriel a chance to further develop his skills as a detective and the reader a chance to learn more about the residents of the Inner Temple, some of whom we met in the first novel and others who are newly arrived. I particularly loved getting to know Delphinium, the Temple cat! The Topsy Tillotson storyline, like the one involving Millie the Mouse in the previous book, takes Gabriel into the wider world outside the confines of the Temple and allows Smith to explore some of the social issues of the time – in this case, the double standards and prejudices affecting women working in certain professions and the ethical responsibilities of journalism.

I think, though, that it’s Gabriel himself who makes these books such a delight to read. He’s a genuinely nice person who is very easy to like, but he also has some eccentricities and signs of obsessive-compulsive behaviour which have restricted his social opportunities. In the first book there were some hints that he was starting to gain confidence and live a less isolated life; this continues in this second book as his friendship with Constable Wright grows stronger and he spends more time with people of other classes and backgrounds such as Topsy and her colleagues. It’s always good to see a character develop as a series progresses. I can’t wait for a third book as I’m sure it will be just as much fun as the first two!

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