Tag: 19th century

The New Magdalen by Wilkie Collins

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Wilkie Collins is one of my favourite Victorian authors, but I feel that I haven’t featured him very often on my blog – probably because I read so many of his books pre-blog, including all of his most famous ones (and I don’t re-read very often these days). Even so, there are still some that I haven’t read yet and I was intrigued when I noticed a few years ago that The New Magdalen was being reprinted by Persephone Books, as they’re a publisher associated more with women authors (although there are a small number of Persephones by male authors as well). It has taken me a while to get round to reading it, so I decided to put it on my 20 Books of Summer list to make sure it didn’t linger on my TBR any longer.

First published in 1873, the novel opens during the Franco-Prussian War in a small cottage in France where Mercy Merrick is working as a Red Cross nurse. As the Germany army draws closer, Mercy has taken shelter in the cottage to nurse some wounded French soldiers and has been joined by another young woman, Grace Roseberry. Grace is on her way to England following the death of her father in Rome; she has spent most of her life in Canada and doesn’t know anybody in England, but she is carrying a letter of introduction from her father to a Lady Janet Roy, a wealthy woman whom she hopes will employ her as a lady’s companion. Grace shares this information with Mercy, who in turn tells Grace her own story – that she is a ‘fallen woman’ who has had a difficult past, eventually ending up in a women’s refuge before volunteering as a nurse.

As the two women talk, the cottage suddenly comes under fire from the advancing army and receives a direct hit from a shell. Grace is badly wounded and is declared dead by a French surgeon. Finding herself alone with Grace’s lifeless body, it occurs to Mercy that she could take Grace’s papers, dress herself in Grace’s clothes and present herself to Lady Janet Roy under the name Grace Roseberry. Desperate to escape from her own troubled past and start a new life, Mercy is unable to resist the temptation and goes through with the plan. It proves to be a huge success and soon Mercy is living as Lady Janet’s adopted daughter and even receives a marriage proposal. Before the marriage can take place, however, Mercy makes a shocking discovery – it seems that the real Grace Roseberry may still be alive and looking for revenge!

Wilkie Collins was known for his sensation novels, a genre that takes elements of Gothic melodrama and places them in an ordinary, often domestic setting. His books typically feature family secrets, disputed inheritances, intercepted letters, stolen jewels, mistaken identities and amazing coincidences. The New Magdalen is less sensational than some of his others, but still falls firmly into the genre so you can expect a very entertaining novel. I’ve always found Collins’ writing to be the most readable of all the Victorians and that, in addition to this being a relatively short book for a 19th century classic, makes it a gripping and surprisingly quick read.

I can see why Persephone chose to add this book to their collection as Collins does write such strong and sympathetic female characters and with Mercy’s story he highlights some of the injustices women faced in Victorian society (and in some ways still do today). I think my favourite Collins novels will always be The Woman in White and Armadale, but this is still a great book and would probably be a good introduction to his work if you didn’t want to commit to a longer one.

This is book 2/20 of my 20 Books of Summer 2023 and book 40/50 from my second Classics Club list.

The Other Side of Mrs Wood by Lucy Barker

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Mrs Wood is the most successful medium in Victorian London. Together with her assistant, Miss Newman, she hosts spectacular séances that have made her the talk of the town and brought the rich and famous to her door requesting private consultations. Of course, Mrs Wood can’t really communicate with spirits, but she doesn’t feel too guilty about what she’s doing – after all, a widow has to make a living somehow and this is the work she’s been raised to do. Recently, however, things have started going wrong. There are reports from America of mediums promising to materialise full spirits and although Mrs Wood disapproves of such things, she worries that her own more traditional shows are losing their spark. When she hears the unmistakable sound of a yawn during one of her séances, she knows she has to take action.

The answer to Mrs Wood’s problems arrives in the form of sixteen-year-old Emmie Finch, who wants nothing more than to become a medium. Impressed by the girl’s talent and enthusiasm, Mrs Wood agrees to take her on as an apprentice. Miss Finch is an instant hit with Mrs Wood’s friends and clients, but is she really the sweet, innocent young woman she appears to be or has Mrs Wood made a big mistake?

The Other Side of Mrs Wood is Lucy Barker’s debut novel and a very enjoyable one! It took me a few chapters to get into the story as the beginning was quite slow, but by the middle of the book I had been completely drawn in. At first I wasn’t sure whether I liked Mrs Wood, but I quickly warmed to her. It was nice to have an older, more mature heroine, who is starting to worry about greying hair and aching bones, has already been married and divorced before the story begins and is devoting herself to her career rather than looking for romance. The beautiful young Emmie Finch, on the other hand, is portrayed as the novel’s villain, but whether she really is trying to cause trouble or whether it’s all in Mrs Wood’s mind is something you’ll have to read the book to find out!

Apart from a subplot featuring Mrs Wood’s assistant Miss Newman, who is involved in the early women’s rights movement, this is not really a book that tackles a lot of deep issues and I enjoyed it primarily for its entertainment value. However, that doesn’t mean it’s a silly, frothy book in any way – it’s well written, evocative of the Victorian era, and I learned a huge amount about the 19th century fascination with spiritualism. It was interesting to read about the techniques used by mediums to produce dramatic effects, the etiquette of hosting a meeting of the Circle, and the preparations that go into holding a Grand Séance. What I found particularly intriguing was that although Mrs Wood, like her rival mediums, lives in fear of being caught out and exposed, she doesn’t actually view herself as a fraud or a con artist. She believes she is using her skills to bring comfort to other people and although she has no qualms over using trickery to ‘apport’ (transport using spiritual means) small objects and even herself, she feels that materialising full spirits is a step too far!

The Other Side of Mrs Wood was fun to read (except when I became infuriated by the actions of certain characters!) but I can’t agree with the publisher’s description of the book as an ‘irresistible historical comedy’. It was amusing in places but not particularly funny and definitely not what I would call a comedy. Misleading description aside, it’s an impressive first novel with a great twist at the end and I’m already looking forward to Lucy Barker’s next book.

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

This is book 25/50 read for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

Voices of the Dead by Ambrose Parry

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This is the fourth book in Ambrose Parry’s series of crime novels set in the medical world of 19th century Edinburgh – and it’s my favourite so far. Ambrose Parry is a pseudonym of Dr Marisa Haetzman, a consultant anaesthetist, and her husband, the crime author Chris Brookmyre, and they each bring their own set of skills and knowledge to the writing of these books. The series follows Dr Will Raven, assistant to the great Scottish obstetrician James Simpson (a real historical figure), and Sarah Fisher, who dreams of one day becoming a doctor herself, so each book includes a wealth of medical detail as well as a murder mystery to be solved.

In Voices of the Dead, set in 1854, Will is now married with a child and another on the way, but he doesn’t have much time to enjoy being a husband and father – not only is he struggling to move out from under the wing of Dr Simpson and establish his own reputation, he has also become mixed up in yet another murder case. Parts of a dismembered body have been turning up in random places around Edinburgh and Will’s friend, Dr Henry Littlejohn, has asked for his help in identifying the victim.

Meanwhile, Sarah Fisher’s plans to study medicine and follow in the footsteps of Dr Elizabeth Blackwell have had to be put on hold. Disappointed and frustrated, she turns instead to the emerging science of mesmerism, which is beginning to grow in popularity. An American mesmerist has just arrived in Edinburgh and Sarah is keen to learn more about the possible uses of mesmerism in healing patients. Will Raven, however, has a low opinion of such things and, not for the first time, he and Sarah find themselves in conflict. Eventually, however, Sarah is also drawn into the murder investigation and she and Will must work together again to find the culprit.

If you’re new to this series you may be wondering whether you could start here without having read the previous three books. Well, this one does work as a standalone mystery, but I would recommend reading all four in order if you can, starting with The Way of All Flesh. Will and Sarah have a complex relationship – made even more complex by the addition of Will’s wife, Eugenie – and it would be best to get to know them both from the beginning. There are also lots of recurring characters who develop throughout the series; in this book, I particularly enjoyed being reacquainted with Gregor the giant. Like the real life Irishman Charles Byrne (whom I read about recently in Hilary Mantel’s The Giant, O’Brien), Gregor’s size has made him the target of unscrupulous men who hope to acquire his body for exhibition after his death.

As well as the usual details of Will’s work as an obstetrician, I found it fascinating to read about the public displays of mesmerism, hypnotism and spiritualism being staged across Edinburgh and the differing views people held towards them. Were the mesmerists and spiritualists really just frauds preying on gullible victims, as Will believed, or were they acting with the best intentions, trying to provide comfort to people who needed it? This storyline introduces some colourful new characters, including a magician of whom I became quite fond and am hoping we’ll meet again.

Every book in this series has been very enjoyable, but I think this one is the best yet. I’m looking forward to the next one and hope we won’t have to wait too long for it!

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

This is book 23/50 read for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

The Sun Walks Down by Fiona McFarlane

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The Sun Walks Down by Australian author Fiona McFarlane is not a book I had considered reading until it appeared on this year’s shortlist for the Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction. Attempting to read all the shortlisted books for the prize is one of my ongoing personal projects and this is the third I’ve read so far from this year’s list (the others are Act of Oblivion and These Days).

The novel is set in South Australia and takes place over a period of seven days in September 1883. On the first day, a dust storm sweeps through the small town of Fairly in the Flinders Ranges and after it has passed, six-year-old Denny Wallace is found to have gone missing. As the whole community becomes caught up in the search for him, McFarlane introduces us to each resident of the town in turn, exploring their lives and the ways in which they are touched by Denny’s disappearance.

As well as Denny’s parents and siblings, we also meet a Pashtun cameleer, a Ramindjeri tracker, a Swedish painter and his English wife, a pair of newlyweds and an assortment of farmworkers and housemaids. Each has their own story to be told and some are given their own chapter, written in the form of a dream, a confession, a prayer or a set of notes. In this way, McFarlane looks at various aspects of life in colonial Australia and the relationships between the Indigenous people and the European newcomers. Although I did find this interesting (I’ve read shamefully little about 19th century Australia) I felt that there were too many characters in the book and the viewpoint changed from one to another too quickly, preventing me from forming a strong connection with any of them. I would also have preferred a tighter focus on the search for Denny as this seemed to get pushed aside for long periods.

I did love the beautiful descriptions of the Flinders Ranges and the way McFarlane uses colours to bring to life images of the sun, sky and clouds. 1883 was the year when Krakatoa erupted and caused a ‘volcanic winter’ with unusually vivid sunsets:

The sky burns and leaps, it gilds and candles – every drenched inch of it, until the sun falls below the ranges. Then the sky darkens. The red returns, stealthy now, with green above and lilac higher still. It deepens into purple. Here’s the strange new cloud, hovering in its own grey light. Then night comes in, black and blue and grey and white, and the moon in its green bag swings heavy over the red nation of the ranges.

I think I would describe The Sun Walks Down as a book that I admired rather than one that I particularly enjoyed. I can see why other people have given it glowing reviews and why it’s being nominated for awards, but it just wasn’t for me. That probably means it will win the Walter Scott Prize this year – not long until we find out!

This is book 20/50 read for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

Music in the Dark by Sally Magnusson

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This is the third novel by Scottish author Sally Magnusson and although I had a few problems with her first two – The Sealwoman’s Gift, the story of an Icelandic woman sold into slavery in Algeria, and The Ninth Child, about the construction of the Loch Katrine Waterworks – I still wanted to read this one because it sounded so interesting.

It begins in 1884 in a tenement in Rutherglen, a town near Glasgow, where the widowed Jamesina Bain is taking in a new lodger. The lodger is a man, newly arrived from America, where he has lived for many years. At first he has no idea who the Widow Bain is, but as he and Jamesina spend more time together, they discover that they have a shared past – they both lived through the forced eviction of Greenyards in Strathcarron.

The eviction was part of the Highland Clearances, the period when landowners in Scotland removed tenants from their estates so the land could be used for more profitable purposes – which, in the case of Greenyards, meant sheep farming. The clearances of Greenyards in 1854 and nearby Glencalvie a few years earlier, were particularly shocking, for reasons I won’t go into here as the novel will probably have more impact if you don’t already know what happened.

Sally Magnusson doesn’t delve too deeply into the politics surrounding the clearances or the reasons behind them – although Jamesina and her friends believe it was due to the Celtic people being considered inferior – and she acknowledges in her author’s note that it’s a very complex subject. Instead, she concentrates on exploring the long-term effects of the clearances, physically, emotionally and mentally, on the evicted people.

The novel is written from the perspectives of both Jamesina and her lodger, moving between the two as well as jumping backwards and forwards in time between 1884 and 1854. This structure is ultimately quite rewarding as things do eventually fall into place and we come to understand what happened during the Greenyards eviction and the sequence of events that sent Jamesina to Rutherglen and her lodger to America. However, it also means that the first half of the novel is slightly confusing and lacks focus, something that isn’t helped by the style in which Jamesina’s sections are written – often descending into a jumble of thoughts, word association and stream of consciousness. There was a reason for that style, which I understood later on, but it didn’t make this an easy book for me to get into.

I found this book very evocative of time and place, whether I was reading about Jamesina’s childhood in Greenyards or her life in the Rutherglen tenement, taking in laundry to earn a living and sleeping in the ‘kitchen bed’ to keep the bedroom available for lodgers. Magnusson also incorporates lots of other interesting issues, such as the healing power of music, the devastating impact of dementia and the joys of education. I found it very sad that the adult Jamesina, who had been such a bright child and was being taught Latin by the local minister, questions the point in being educated if you’re only going to be leading a life of drudgery.

I have deliberately not provided the name of Jamesina’s lodger, as we don’t immediately know who he is or how he fits into her life and I thought I would leave you to make that discovery for yourself. This is a fascinating novel in many ways and I did enjoy it once I got past the halfway point, which is why I don’t like abandoning books too early!

Thanks to John Murray Press for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

This is book 17/50 read for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

The Secrets of Hartwood Hall by Katie Lumsden

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It’s 1852 and the recently widowed Margaret Lennox has just arrived at Hartwood Hall to take up a new position as governess to ten-year-old Louis Eversham. Margaret worked as a governess before her marriage, so has plenty of experience, but she quickly discovers that the Evershams are not quite like any other family she has worked for. Mrs Eversham is secretive and overprotective, isolating herself and Louis from their neighbours, and in the village rumours are spreading that Hartwood Hall is haunted. Although this makes Margaret feel uneasy – and the hostility she faces from one of the maids, Susan, doesn’t help – she does her best to settle into her new job, while also trying to conceal the truth about her own past.

The Secrets of Hartwood Hall is Katie Lumsden’s debut novel and is obviously heavily influenced by the work of the Brontës, particularly Jane Eyre, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and Agnes Grey. One character turns out to be an author not dissimilar to Charlotte, Emily and Anne, while others are seen reading Brontë novels – and of course, there are elements of the plot and setting that feel very familiar as well. The descriptions of the locked east wing of Hartwood Hall, off-limits to Margaret, with its strange noises and flickering lights made me think of Jane Eyre’s ‘madwoman in the attic’ and had me wondering what exactly was going on in there! Of course, this is a book written in the 21st century, not the 19th, and I could never quite forget that; some parts of this story could never have been written by the Brontës – or would have had to be alluded to much more vaguely.

This is not the only recently published book to be inspired by classic Gothic novels and at first I thought it was going to be very similar to Stacey Halls’ Mrs England, Marianne Ratcliffe’s The Secret of Matterdale Hall or Beth Underdown’s The Key in the Lock, to name a few. However, although I think readers of those books would enjoy this one too, it’s still different enough to be a satisfying story in its own right. I didn’t guess the solutions of all the mysteries hinted at in the book – although I was convinced at one point that I’d worked it all out, some of the revelations still took me by surprise!

There’s a romantic thread to the novel too, as Margaret begins to form a relationship with a male member of the Hartwood Hall staff. However, I found this the least successful aspect of the story. I sensed very little chemistry between the two of them, neither was honest with the other and I felt that Margaret treated him unfairly. For this reason, the later stages of the novel didn’t have the emotional impact they probably should have done. I did enjoy watching Margaret’s relationship with the Evershams develop, as she gained the trust and respect of Louis and Mrs Eversham – and I was angry on Margaret’s behalf about the treatment she received from the scheming Susan! Although I didn’t always agree with Margaret’s decisions, I found her quite an engaging heroine and narrator.

This was an entertaining novel and while not every part of it worked for me, I would be happy to read more books by Katie Lumsden, particularly if they fall into this same subgenre.

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

This is book 11/50 read for the 2023 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge.

A Laodicean by Thomas Hardy

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First published in Harper’s New Monthly Magazine in 1880-81, A Laodicean; or, The Castle of the De Stancys: A Story of To-Day is one of Thomas Hardy’s lesser known novels and one that I very much enjoyed.

Architect George Somerset is exploring the countryside near the village of Sleeping-Green one evening when he stumbles upon a castle. He learns that this is Stancy Castle, the ancestral home of the De Stancy family which has recently been purchased by the wealthy railway contractor, John Power. Mr Power has since died, leaving the castle to his daughter, Paula, who is planning to carry out extensive renovations on the ancient building. When Paula is introduced to Somerset she considers commissioning him to do the work on the castle, but before the restoration even begins Somerset finds himself falling in love with her.

It seems that Somerset has a rival for Paula’s love, however – Captain De Stancy, an impoverished descendant of the aristocratic family who once owned the castle. The Captain’s son, William Dare, has seen a chance to get his hands on some of the Power fortune and is determined that his father must marry Paula, no matter what.

Paula herself is the Laodicean of the title, described by the local minister as ‘lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot’, like the people of the church of Laodicea in the Bible. Throughout the novel she vacillates between Somerset and De Stancy, attracted to both of them in different ways and unwilling to fully commit to one or the other. This reflects the way she feels about society in general. As an industrialist’s daughter who has installed a telegraph wire and a new clock at Stancy Castle, Paula represents science and progress but at the same time she likes the idea of marrying into an aristocratic family and becoming a De Stancy. The clash between tradition and a new way of life is one of the recurring themes that comes up again and again in Hardy’s novels.

Although Paula irritated me with her inability to make up her mind and give either man a definite answer, I found Somerset’s infatuation with her quite annoying as well – I wanted him to notice Paula’s friend, Charlotte, who I think would have been a much better choice for him! Irritating characters aside, I found the story very entertaining, mainly because of the machinations of William Dare, who will stop at nothing to ensure Paula chooses his father. He uses forged telegrams, fake photographs and all sorts of other devious tricks to try to get what he wants and this makes the book more of a pageturner than I’d expected at first.

A Laodicean doesn’t really have the pastoral feel of most of Hardy’s other novels; in fact, most of the second half is set in Europe where the various sets of characters wander around the casinos of Monte Carlo, the spas of Baden and the busy streets and squares of Strasbourg. Things do become a bit far-fetched in this section, with lots of coincidental meetings, but I enjoyed reading something different from Hardy after so many books set in his Wessex countryside.

Although this hasn’t become one of my favourite Hardy novels, it’s still a very good one. I think I only have three more of them to read, as well as some of his short story collections. Have you read this one? What did you think?

This is book 36/50 from my second Classics Club list.