Finn Family Moomintroll by Tove Jansson – #MoominWeek

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Translated by Elizabeth Portch

I’ve never read a Moomin book until now – and if it hadn’t been for Mallika of Literary Potpourri and Chris of Calmgrove hosting #Moominweek this week (in time for Paula’s Moomin-themed wedding), I would probably never have picked one up. I’ve seen some of the cartoons/animated series, but it hadn’t occurred to me that I might enjoy reading the books. With no idea where to start – I’ve found several recommended reading orders, which aren’t necessarily chronological – I decided to begin with Finn Family Moomintroll and I think it was a good choice! As it was originally published in Swedish, it also counts towards Women in Translation Month.

First of all, what are Moomins? Well, they’re small, troll-like creatures who live in Moominvalley. There’s Moomintroll and his parents, Moominmamma and Moominpappa, and an assortment of friends including the Snork and the Snork Maiden (a related species, but with hair), Sniff, a strange little creature resembling a kangaroo who has been adopted by the family, and Snufkin, who wears old clothes and a wide-brimmed hat. You can see some of them, and others, in the illustration below:

Finn Family Moomintroll begins with the Moomin family preparing for their winter hibernation. After waking up again in spring, the book then takes us through the rest of the year, during which the Moomins have a series of adventures revolving around the discovery of a top hat belonging to a Hobgoblin. The hat turns out to have magical powers – some eggshells dropped into it become clouds for the children to ride on, and when Moomintroll himself hides inside it during a game, he too undergoes an unexpected transformation. The Moomins also go on an expedition to the Island of the Hattifatteners, are visited by two tiny creatures called Thingumy and Bob, and finally encounter the Hobgoblin, who has come in search of the missing King’s Ruby.

This book was first published in 1948 (and translated into English in 1950) and is the third in the Moomins series by order of publication. Although it would have been helpful to see how the various characters were first introduced, I didn’t really feel that I’d missed out on much by not reading the previous two books first – and in fact, this one was apparently marketed as the first in the series until the 1980s. I do wonder about the original Swedish title, Trollkarlens hatt, which translates to The Magician’s Hat; he is referred to as a Hobgoblin in the edition I read, but ‘Magician’ would have made more sense, I think.

The book has an episodic feel, with each chapter almost a separate little story in itself, linked by the common thread of the Hobgoblin’s Hat and its magical properties. There’s a focus on the relationships between friends and family members and on the various quirks and eccentricities of the characters. It’s obviously aimed at children, but as with all good children’s books it can be enjoyed by adults as well. I’m not even sure if I would have liked it as a child; I was never a big fan of the adaptations and I think I probably appreciated the book more now than I would have done when I was younger.

There aren’t really any deep themes here, but there’s a message of kindness and tolerance (the Moomins welcome all sorts of visitors and unusual creatures into the Moominhouse) which would have been more relevant than ever in the aftermath of World War II. I’ve heard that some of the later books in the series have more depth. I’ll probably try another one, although not immediately, and I’m interested in reading Tove Jansson’s adult books as well.

Cabaret Macabre by Tom Mead

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After enjoying the first two books in Tom Mead’s Joseph Spector mystery series, Death and the Conjuror and The Murder Wheel, I was pleased to see that he had written a third one. I think this might even be my favourite of the three! If you haven’t read any of them, you could start here if you wanted to; although there are some references to Spector’s earlier cases, there are no spoilers and all three mysteries work perfectly as separate standalones.

It’s December 1938 and retired magician Joseph Spector has been approached by the wife of Sir Giles Drury, a prominent judge, who wants him to identify the sender of some threatening letters. She believes the culprit may be Victor Silvius, who attacked her husband nine years earlier and has been confined in a private sanatorium ever since. Having noted Spector’s involvement in solving the recent Dean case (described in The Murder Wheel), she hopes he will be able to find out who is behind the letters.

Coincidentally, Spector’s friend Inspector Flint of Scotland Yard has had a visit from Caroline Silvius, sister of Victor Silvius. Caroline believes someone is trying to murder her brother and she’s convinced that person is Sir Giles Drury. With Spector and Flint both investigating the same situation from opposite sides, it’s inevitable that their paths will cross. Arriving at Marchbanks, the Drurys’ country estate, during a period of heavy snow, both men are baffled when a member of the family is found dead under very unusual circumstances. Can they solve the mystery before another murder takes place?

I really enjoyed Cabaret Macabre. It’s very cleverly plotted, with not one but two locked room style murders for Flint and Spector to investigate, but unlike the previous book, which I found too complicated, this one was easier for me to follow. That doesn’t mean it was easy to solve, however, because it certainly wasn’t! I had no idea how the murders were carried out or who was responsible for them, even though the clues were all there in the text. Tom Mead really is a master of this type of mystery and it’s easy to see the influence authors like John Dickson Carr and Agatha Christie have had on his work.

The book has a large number of suspects (and also potential victims) including Sir Giles, his wife and their four sons and stepsons, Victor and Caroline Silvius and an assortment of servants at Marchbanks. There’s also another murder case – or was it suicide? – from nine years earlier (the source of the animosity between Victor and Sir Giles), which could provide the key to what’s happening in the present. It’s impressive that Mead manages to pull all of this together without leaving any obvious holes in the plot. What I particularly love about this series, though, is the idea of a former magician becoming an amateur detective and using his special knowledge of illusions and deceptions to solve crimes and assist the police. Although Spector is still something of a mystery himself and reveals very little of his past or his private life, I think he’s a great character and the perfect partner for the more practical, less imaginative Inspector Flint.

If you haven’t tried a Joseph Spector book yet and are a fan of Golden Age mysteries, I do recommend them; this one and the first one, in particular, have quite an authentic 1930s feel, as well as being fun and entertaining. I’m hoping there’ll be more!

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

Book 39/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

This is book 20/20 of my 20 Books of Summer 2024.

Yes, I have completed my 20 Books of Summer list with nearly a week to go! I’ll be looking back at my 20 books and my experience with this year’s challenge in a special post at the end of the month.

The Golden Tresses of the Dead by Alan Bradley

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I had thought this book, published in 2019, was going to be the last in Alan Bradley’s Flavia de Luce series, so I hadn’t rushed to read it, thinking that once I had I would have no more to look forward to. Then I discovered that there’s actually another book coming in September – which will be the eleventh in the series – and decided to pick this one up now in preparation.

The Golden Tresses of the Dead begins in 1952 with our twelve-year-old heroine Flavia de Luce attending the wedding of her elder sister, Ophelia (known as Feely). I won’t tell you who she’s marrying, in case you haven’t reached this point in the series yet – or haven’t started at all. Everything is going well, apart from the usual naughtiness of Flavia’s annoying little cousin, Undine, but when Feely steps forward to cut into her wedding cake she screams in horror. There’s a human finger inside the cake! As Feely retreats to her room to recover from the shock, Flavia whisks the finger away to her laboratory so she can examine it and try to identify its owner.

The next day, Arthur W. Dogger & Associates, the new detective agency Flavia has formed with her father’s friend and manservant Dogger, receives its first client. A Mrs Prill is trying to track down some stolen letters and wants Flavia and Dogger to help. When they begin investigating, however, they discover that Mrs Prill hasn’t been entirely honest with them. Are the letters really missing – and could there be any connection with the severed finger in the cake?

As I’ve come to expect from the Flavia de Luce books, The Golden Tresses of the Dead (the title comes from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 68) is a quick, entertaining read; I did enjoy it, but it’s not one of the strongest and I think if I didn’t know there was another book on its way, I would have been disappointed with this one as a conclusion to the series. In general, I think the earlier books are more fun and have more charm than the later ones, so if you still haven’t tried one I would recommend going back to the beginning and starting with The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie.

Although this book has many of the same elements as most of the others in the series – it’s set, as usual, in and around the small English village of Bishop’s Lacey in the 1950s; Flavia still gets around on her trusty bicycle, Gladys; she still loves chemistry and conducting experiments in her fully equipped laboratory – there are also some differences. Feely leaves for her honeymoon early in the book and Flavia’s other sister, Daffy (Daphne), is tucked away working on her memoirs and only makes one or two brief appearances. The relationship between Flavia and her two sisters is one of the things that has always fascinated me about the series, so I was sorry that it’s not really explored any further here. We do see a lot of Undine, but I’ve never liked her and she doesn’t make up for the absence of Feely and Daffy! Also, as hinted at in the previous book, The Grave’s a Fine and Private Place, crime-solving is no longer a solitary activity for Flavia and she forms a new partnership with Dogger. It works well – Flavia does most of the trespassing, risk-taking and hunting for clues, but Dogger, with the benefit of age and life experience, knows how to interpret those clues. I’ve always loved him and was pleased to see him take such a prominent role in this book.

The mystery itself is complex, involving potential grave-robbing, poisonous plants and two missionaries who may not be quite what they seem, and I’ll admit that I found it confusing and didn’t really understand how everything tied together. I wondered if I just hadn’t been paying enough attention and had missed something, but looking at other reviews it seems that a lot of people had similar problems. This is not a favourite Flavia de Luce book, then, and I’m glad it’s not how the series ends! I’m looking forward to reading book eleven, What Time the Sexton’s Spade Doth Rust, and am hoping it will be better than this one.

Book 38/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

The Black Lake by Hella S. Haasse – #WITMonth

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Translated by Ina Rilke

Since reading Hella S. Haasse’s In a Dark Wood Wandering, I’ve been looking forward to reading more of her books. This one, The Black Lake, is on both my Classics Club list and 20 Books of Summer list and is also perfect for this year’s Women in Translation Month. Always good when one book counts towards multiple projects!

First published in 1948 as Oeroeg, this book is considered a Dutch classic and is apparently often taught in Dutch schools. Now that I’ve read it, I can see why it would be a popular choice with schoolteachers; it’s a short novella (under 140 pages in my edition so doesn’t take long to read), is written from the perspective of a young protagonist, and deals with the subject of colonialism in Indonesia, formerly the Dutch East Indies.

Our unnamed narrator is the son of a Dutch planter and his wife and grows up on their tea plantation in Preanger (now Priangan), West Java. As a child, he forms a close friendship with Oeroeg, the son of his father’s estate manager, and soon the two are inseparable. The narrator becomes vaguely aware that his parents and their servants disapprove of his attachment to a ‘native boy’, but with the innocence of childhood he has no idea why. However, when Oeroeg’s family is struck by tragedy, his father feels a sense of duty to the boy and reluctantly allows the friendship to continue. It’s only when he and Oeroeg start to attend school that the narrator begins to understand that their lives will never be able to follow the same path and that society has different expectations for each of them. During World War II, he leaves to serve in the Dutch army and on his return he finds that neither Oeroeg nor Indonesia are the same as when he went away.

The Black Lake is a beautifully written book, with lovely, vivid descriptions of the island of Java – the mountains, the rivers and the black lake of the title, Telaga Hideung, where one of the story’s pivotal scenes takes place. Ina Rilke’s English translation flows smoothly and is easy to read, while keeping in place some Dutch words and terms which can be looked up in the glossary at the back of the book if needed.

With the whole story being told from the perspective of a boy from a white Dutch colonial family, it’s both interesting and limiting. If Haasse was writing this book today, I think she would be expected to include the perspective of the oppressed people as well as the colonists – or maybe not write it at all and leave the story for an Indonesian author to tell. But in the context of the 1940s, when it was published, it gives some fascinating insights into the colonial mindset and I’m sure Haasse will have drawn on some of her own experiences and views (she was born in Indonesia herself and spent most of her first twenty years there).

Although I found this a powerful book, it’s not really one that I can say I ‘enjoyed’. The writing style was too dreamlike and distancing for me to fully engage with and the narrator’s story left me with a feeling of sadness. He’s naive, oblivious and looks back on his earlier years with what seems to be a fond nostalgia for an idyllic childhood, with a lack of understanding that, for Oeroeg, it was hardly idyllic at all. Oeroeg is the centre of the narrator’s life, yet there’s no indication that Oeroeg feels the same way or places much value on their friendship. Oeroeg proves to be the most socially and politically aware of the two and eventually the narrator is in the uncomfortable position of having stayed the same while everyone and everything around him has changed.

Of the two Haasse books I’ve read, I preferred the much longer In a Dark Wood Wandering, but am glad I read this one as well. If you’ve read any of her other books which are available in English translations, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

This is book 19/20 of my 20 Books of Summer 2024.

This is also book 45/50 from my second Classics Club list

The Hazelbourne Ladies Motorcycle and Flying Club by Helen Simonson

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I enjoyed Helen Simonson’s previous two novels, Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand and The Summer Before the War, but we seem to have had a very long wait for her third one. Eight years, in fact! Was it worth waiting for? I think so.

Although there’s not really any connection with The Summer Before the War, this book could easily have been titled ‘The Summer After the War’. It’s set in a small English seaside town in 1919, the year after the end of World War I. Now that the men have been returning from the front, Constance Haverhill has had to give up her wartime job running a farm and estate and is now at a loose end. Reluctantly contemplating work as a governess, she is given a temporary respite when a family friend asks her to accompany her elderly mother to Hazelbourne-on-Sea for the summer. Working as a lady’s companion is not really what Constance has in mind, but she agrees and soon she and Mrs Fog are settling into the hotel that will be their home for the next few months.

Everything changes for Constance when she meets Poppy Wirrall, a young woman from a wealthy local family who has started a motorcycle club for ladies so that they can use the skills they gained during the war. Some of the women are mechanics, while others are using their motorcycles to provide a taxi service for Hazelbourne residents. Constance is intrigued, particularly when Poppy decides to buy a damaged Sopwith Camel fighter plane so that, once it’s been restored, the club can begin training women pilots in addition to their other services. Poppy herself has never flown a plane, but she knows who will be the perfect instructor: her brother Harris, a former fighter pilot who returned from the war missing a leg and has been sinking into depression ever since.

The Hazelbourne Ladies… is a fascinating portrayal of life in the aftermath of the war. The War Practices Act, which is referred to in the novel, means that men returning from war must be given their jobs back – jobs which have been filled by women during their absence. It’s easy to have sympathy for women like Constance and her new friends who had, at least in some ways, experienced a greater degree of equality during the war that seems to be being eroded again in peacetime. Simonson also explores a different but equally frustrating situation through the story of Harris, whose disability has left him feeling useless and unwanted.

Another interesting character is Klaus, originally German but now a naturalised British citizen, who is working as a waiter at the hotel and is worried for his safety and position due to the general anti-German sentiment of the public. Although most of the novel is written from the perspectives of Constance and Harris, we do occasionally hear from Klaus as well, adding another layer to the story. I felt that the book was a bit longer than it really needed to be and it took me a while to become fully absorbed in it, but once I did I found it a perfect summer read.

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

This is book 18/20 of my 20 Books of Summer 2024.

Book 37/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

A Court of Betrayal by Anne O’Brien

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I enjoyed Anne O’Brien’s last two novels, about the Pastons – one of England’s most influential families in the 15th century, who left behind a collection of correspondence known as the Paston Letters – and I wondered if she would continue to write about them in a third novel. However, with A Court of Betrayal she has chosen to tell a very different story: the story of Johane de Geneville.

Johane (or Joan) de Geneville is not a well known historical figure and most people have probably never heard of her, but as the wife of Roger Mortimer, 1st Earl of March, she played a part in an important and eventful period of English history. Having been imprisoned for leading a revolt against King Edward II, Mortimer escaped to France where he joined forces with Edward’s estranged queen, Isabella, and together they led a successful invasion of England in 1326. With Edward forced to abdicate and his young son crowned in his place, Mortimer and Isabella effectively ruled the country for several years. The Stone Rose by Carol McGrath, The She-Wolf by Maurice Druon and Isabella by Colin Falconer are just a few of the novels I’ve read that cover this period, but the focus is always firmly on Isabella, Edward and Mortimer. What was Johane doing while all of this was happening and how did she feel about it? These are the questions Anne O’Brien sets out to explore in A Court of Betrayal.

The novel is written in the first person from Johane’s perspective and I found her much more likeable and sympathetic than some of O’Brien’s other heroines. Throughout the course of the novel, as the title would suggest, she experiences and witnesses betrayal of many kinds, but the most significant for Johane personally is the betrayal she faces at the hands of her own husband. The marriage between Johane and Roger Mortimer is portrayed as a happy one at first. Although it was an arranged marriage, which was normal amongst the medieval nobility, there seems to be genuine love and affection between them and they go on to have twelve children together. This all changes when Mortimer begins an affair with Isabella and makes no real attempt to hide it, either from Johane or from the public – and even insists on Isabella being accepted as a guest in Johane’s home. I feel bad that, despite having read about the Mortimer/Isabella relationship before, I’ve never really given any thought to the fact that Roger had a wife!

With the story being told from Johane’s point of view, there’s a limit to the things she sees and experiences for herself (particularly as she spends large chunks of the novel imprisoned or under house arrest) and information often comes to her via other people. This doesn’t make the novel boring, however; there’s always something happening in Johane’s personal life and it’s still interesting to read about the political developments happening elsewhere even if we’re not seeing them at first-hand. Like most periods of history, this one has its fair share of controversies, mysteries and other matters on which historians have never been able to agree – how and when did Edward II die, for example, and what was the nature of his relationships with his favourites, Piers Gaveston and Hugh Despenser? O’Brien has her opinions on these things and incorporates them into the plot. It’s all very fascinating, whether you’ve read about this period before or not.

Although I haven’t read all of Anne O’Brien’s books yet, I have read a lot of them and I think this is one of her best. I’ve discovered that her next novel, due in 2025, is going to be set during the Wars of the Roses and will tell the stories of Margaret of Anjou and Anne, Countess of Warwick. Something to look forward to!

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

Book 36/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

In the Upper Country by Kai Thomas

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In the Upper Country came to my attention earlier this year when it was shortlisted for the Walter Scott Prize and as I’ve been looking out for historical fiction set in Canada (see my Historical Musings post from last year) it’s one I was particularly interested in reading.

The novel opens in 1859 in Dunmore, Ontario, a fictional town settled by people fleeing slavery in the American South. It is home to Lensinda Martin, a young black journalist who works for a local newspaper. When an old woman who has recently arrived in Dunmore through the Underground Railroad kills a slave hunter and is arrested, Lensinda is sent to interview her in jail. The old woman insists that if she’s going to tell her story, Lensinda must tell one in return and so, over the course of several days, the two women begin to exchange tales.

The stories they tell reveal not only how the old woman came to be in Dunmore and to kill a man, but also the journeys of other slaves and the significance of all of this on Lensinda’s own life. They also explore the connections between the Black and Indigenous communities of North America – something which Kai Thomas in his author’s note points out is usually ignored in other novels about slavery. It’s certainly not a subject I know much about, so I found that aspect of the book interesting.

Although Dunmore is not a real place, Thomas explains that it’s inspired by similar towns that did exist, such as North Buxton, Ontario. It had never occurred to me that there were whole towns settled by slaves in Canada; in fact, everything I’ve previously read about the Underground Railroad has focused more on how the slaves manage to escape and begin their journey rather than on what happens to them after they reach their destination. It’s a book with lots of interesting themes and topics, then – and it’s always good when you reach the end of a novel feeling that you’ve learned something new.

On a more negative note, the structure of the book didn’t work very well for me at all. There were too many different stories, too many different voices and I found it difficult to follow what was happening and engage with the characters. I almost abandoned it several times because I just couldn’t get into the flow of the writing, but I kept going and did manage to finish it. I don’t regret reading it, but for me it was definitely more of an educational book than an enjoyable one!

This is book 17/20 of my 20 Books of Summer 2024.

Book 35/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024