Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel

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Mantel’s epic leads us through a turbulent period in British history, taking Thomas Cromwell as the central figure. We begin by learning about his difficult childhood before he heads to the continent and comes back well respected. There will be times when other characters try to shame him for his humble origins but he is confident in his abilities and the good standing that his work and efficiency places him in. He’s not wrong - he moves in the very highest of circles, easing the way for Henry VIII to divorce Catherine of Aragon and marry Anne Boleyn. This is undoubtedly a complex time - there’s a five page character list at the beginning of the book, which I completely forgot about after the first hundred or so pages so was relying entirely on the text of the novel to keep myself oriented. Thankfully, I wasn’t coming to the period fresh, if you’re new to the story you’ll probably find yourself flicking back and forth a lot.

Cromwell doesn’t have the best reputation in history but Mantel attempts to humanise him here. His difficult family life as a child and the death of his wife and daughters early in the novel allow us a glimpse of a softer side. Here we see Cromwell grieving, and are reminded just how much the threat of death weighed on everyone at the time. If you were lucky enough to survive or avoid contagious diseases, the constant changing of religious preferences of the monarchy meant that you were at risk of execution, and for women of course, death through childbirth. We see throughout that those unwilling to shift their beliefs in line with the current preference from above are punished. Some of the most harrowing and evocative passages are the descriptions of executions. 

We see the fallout of the King’s desire to divorce and remarry and the struggle of those in positions of power to shift their mindset to protect their lives. We hear much about Anne and Henry’s relationship and the rumours around the fading love and lust between them when her first child is not a boy. Knowing how their story ends, you feel for Anne. We see how love and politics intertwine and the negotiations that created this infamous story. We witness also how family are discarded when not seen as useful, and the jealousy of the new queen of anyone connected to her predecessor. It’s a difficult world for their unfortunate offspring to grow up in.

An aspect that I also found interesting was the brief but moving examinations of how some of the characters responded to their impending deaths. We see one choose to accept his fate when offered the opportunity to escape, others going to their end relatively oblivious. What is clear throughout is that your fortunes can change on a whim, and those who feel comfortable in their positions can very easily fall from grace. 

Despite the often serious nature of the content of the book it is littered with little humorous moments, as well as very human ones. Cromwell’s reaction to Holbein’s portrait of him, in which he is described as looking like a murderer, sets him on a short self-reflection, in which he realises he is more vain than previously thought. An interesting read, it’s quite dense and yet reads smoothly. Tackling such famous figures in fiction is no mean feat, and although not everyone will agree with Mantel’s interpretation of some of the characters, it is clearly well researched yet avoids feeling heavy.

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The Girl Who Reads on the Métro, Christine Féret-Fleury (translated by Ros Schwartz)

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Juliette spend hours every week travelling on line 6 of the metro, and has come to know her fellow passengers by sight. She knows which of them love to read romances, which just stare out of the window, and has come to care for them. She always has a book with her but finds herself more often than not people watching instead. One day, she decides to get off the metro early and go for a walk. She happens upon a treasure trove of books, watched over by Soliman and his daughter Zaide. Soliman spreads his books throughout the city through a network of passeurs who watch people, picking out the perfect book for them. Soliman himself rarely leaves his book den, preferring instead to travel through reading. Juliette soon finds herself with a heavy bag of books she’s meant to find the perfect person for with no idea how to go about the task. An opportunity soon presents itself as she assists her colleague Chloe with selling a difficult flat with the help of du Maurier’s Rebecca. This reinvigorates her belief in every reader having the perfect book for the moment it finds them in. This gentle novel follows her as she explores her new role and considers where the right balance is between getting lost in the world of books and engaging with the world around her.

The most engaging character in the novel is probably Zaide. She is confident and intriguing, and the first person Juliette meets when she goes for her walk. She appears independent, roaming the streets on her own, a book propped in the front door of their home to keep it open for her. As she and Juliette come to know each other more she proves herself to be insightful and encourages Juliette out beyond her comfort zone. Her complicated family life does not seem to have negatively impacted her too badly, but she has gained a maturity through it while retaining a child’s eye view of the world which allows her to see things more clearly than many adults. 

Juliette herself is quite a solitary character, living her little life quite contentedly. She doesn’t long for any great adventure or to move outside of her normal routine too much. Meeting Soliman allows her the opportunity to try a different way of living and it suits her. The Paris setting is also fairly incidental - there were times when I wondered if I’d simply assumed it was set in Paris. The main heart of the novel is the characters’ love of books. It reminded me of The Little Paris Bookshop but with less of a plot. This is a gentle read which doesn’t invite too much questioning of the practicalities of the lifestyle choices of the characters. Beautifully written, this meandering novel is a lovely read if you want to escape from the world for a while. 

Catherine: A Retelling of Wuthering Heights, Essie Fox

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This post is part of a blog tour. Thank you to Random Things Tours and Orenda Books for providing me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

Fox’s retelling of Wuthering Heights places Catherine front and centre. The book opens with one of the most evocative scenes from the original - Heathcliif having her coffin dug up so that they can be placed together when his time comes. In disturbing her corpse he sets her ghost free and she is then taken through not just her own story but also that of her daughter into young adulthood. Fox’s writing fits nicely with the tone of the original, meaning that when passages are lifted directly from Brontë’s novel they fit quite naturally within the narrative. The story of Heathcliff and Cathy’s obsessive, unhealthy love for each other and the actions that lead to the destruction and misery of not just their own lives but all those around them is a powerful, frustrating, and heartbreaking one. 

A sense of place is so integral to Wuthering Heights; the contrast between the darkness of the Heights and the lightness of Thrushcross Grange. We see the Heights go from a relatively happy family home to one filled with grief and violence, later becoming a prison. The moors are also central, the place where Cathy and Heathcliff feel completely themselves, free from societal expectation or the judgment of Joseph. It is where they are able to come together completely. It is also a dangerous place - even those familiar with the landscape can get into trouble in inclement weather, and for those less hardy there is danger and foreboding in its wildness. Inhabitants of Thrushcross Grange are often banned from venturing beyond their own landscaped grounds. We learn a lot about the characters by where they feel most at home. Fox manages to capture the essence of this throughout.

The main purpose of this novel seems to be to make Catherine a bit more sympathetic, to explain the reasoning behind her actions and the guilt she feels when things go wrong. There are still many unlikeable characters of course, but, as with the original, you feel for them, understanding where things have gone wrong for them, and the ways in which the environments they grew up in have shaped them. Of course, there is a point where Heathcliff tips over into being unrelatable and although you do understand how he has suffered there is a limit to the sympathy you can feel as he seeks to destroy everything Edgar has ever loved. It felt slightly less extreme in this novel, although the same actions took place. The ghost of Catherine is horrified by what he has become, and the suffering he is inflicting on her daughter, but ultimately she continues to love him and there is a feeling of redemption. 

My main issue with this novel was that I didn’t feel it really added much to the story. For the most part you are just reading Wuthering Heights told in different words. Fox adds a few scenes here and there, filling in some of Heathcliff’s backstory, and taking away some of the ambiguity about his relationship with Cathy, but there just doesn’t feel like there’s any great depth being added. Yes, we experience a little more of her emotions as the story plays out, but they can be inferred from the original, so rich in feeling. Most retellings that I’ve read in the past focus on highlighting characters that were otherwise sidelined; in attempting a retelling based on one of the main characters it is inevitable I suppose that not much is gained. The point at which the story continues after Cathy’s death felt like the moment for more additions, to see how she responds to how everything plays out. For the most part this doesn’t happen, we are just told the story without comment. It is only in the last fifty pages or so that we get a little more insight into how she feels, what she thinks of the man she once loved so desperately, how she reacts to seeing her daughter grown up. If there was more of this throughout it would have felt a much stronger novel, as it is I couldn’t help but wonder what the point of the retelling was, and getting frustrated that we weren’t delving deeper with Cathy. That is not to say it’s a bad book, far from it, but I couldn’t help but feel that you’d be better off just reading the original. I adore the original, it is my most-read and favourite book, so perhaps I am coming at it from a critical place. I wonder how this book would be received by someone coming to the story for the first time. I imagine it would be read with pleasure. All the power and emotion of the original but perhaps in less intimidating writing, a bit less confusing with the repetition of character names in the second half. It is a worthy read, and the writing is rich and evocative, but for me I felt the enjoyment came from the strength of the original.

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The Age of Genius: The Seventeenth Century and the Birth of the Modern Mind, A. C. Grayling

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Grayling makes clear in the introduction to this book that the main argument of it is that the change in the mind of Europeans that occurred in the seventeenth century was greater than any that had occurred in all history beforehand, that it was a period that saw the triumph of reason over religion. He uses as an example of this radical shift in mindset the reaction to Shakespeare’s Macbeth, which received its first performance in 1606, where the expectation was that the audience would see the murdering of a king as against the laws of nature. Yet by 1649 Charles I of England was executed with a huge crowd as witness. To make this possible, he argues, there must have been a radical change in the collective mind. This is not a new view point, and one that has been largely discredited by historians in recent decades, yet for those of us who are reading the book for pleasure, not immersed in the debates of historians, it feels convincing. I admit I may have been more easily swayed for having been at a talk he gave when the book came out. He is an enigmatic speaker and the ideas he presented felt fascinating.

Undoubtedly the seventeenth century was a period of great thinkers and new ideas. It was also a time of great military upheaval. Grayling dedicates a decent chunk of the book to discussing the conflicts that occurred during this time period, and particularly the Thirty Years War. He does mention that if you’re less interested in military history you can skip this section. I didn’t, and although details of battles are not my main area of interest, it is important to understand the rest of the activities of the age in relation to the wider political stage. War, after all, is often a catalyst for invention and progress. Grayling highlights this by remarking how different the world and technology looked between the start of the Second World War and the end.

The characters you’d expect to find are within these pages - Locke, Descartes, Galileo, and Newton to name but a few, but also some (perhaps) less well known names. The passages about Marin Mersenne explain how he was at the centre of sharing ideas, and we then move on to early forms of a postal service. Reading this in a world of constant connectivity it is interesting to take some time to think more deeply about how ideas were spread and shared before the technology that makes information so easily accessible. 

Grayling is a proud atheist and at times there are hints of disdain for religion, somewhat ignoring the fact that religious thought wasn’t entirely replaced by the seeming rise of reason. Overall though, this is an interesting book if you’re interested in the development of thought in the seventeenth century. The idea that the way the human mind understood the world completely changed during this period may be an exaggeration but certainly it was a period of huge discoveries and theories. We learn mostly about them through the eyes of the intellectual elite rather than the general public so it’s hard to gauge exactly how much general thought did shift away from religion and belief based systems to ones based in logic. If you’re an avid reader of histories from this period you’ll likely find lots of holes to pick in this book, but for the general reader it is full of interesting history. 

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Upon A Frosted Star, M.A. Kuzniar

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Forster, a young aspiring artist who is estranged from his family, is spending his birthday with his flatmate and close friend Marvin and Rose when they discover invitations to the most eagerly anticipated party of the year. At a manor nestled deep in the woods in Wurthercliffe, these parties are full of extravagant luxuries and magic. The hostess is a mysterious ballerina whose name nobody knows. Inevitably, Forster falls for her and it is not long before he realises she is living a cursed life, condemned to spending most of her days in the form of a swan, snowfall releasing her back to her human form. The main story takes place in the 1920s but we have forays into a time a decade earlier where Detta is finding her way as a star ballerina in Rothbart’s intriguing company. Their performances are what we would now call immersive, with magical interventions bringing the stories to life. It’s not all fun and games however, the dancers are for the most part afraid of Rothbart and we see Detta struggle with the knowledge she should leave yet her ambition keeps her dancing for him, not wanting to have to build back up to principal dancer elsewhere. Knowing what her future holds, you long for her to leave but know that she won’t. Will Forster’s love for her be enough to undo the curse?

Taking Swan Lake as its inspiration, this novel explores familiar characters, building them new stories. Detta loses her family in a tragic accident, which she narrowly avoids herself. Taking the opportunity to build a new life she goes in search of her dancing dreams. She works hard and excels, but is always unsettled by Rothbart’s presence. He is controlling - the dancers all have to live together under his roof, and when they’re on tour they are not allowed to speak to others outside the company. Dancers go missing regularly with no explanation, and Detta is aware of him lurking outside her bedroom door at night. She fears for her safety, and he becomes more dangerous as time passes. The magic tricks he includes in his shows he keeps from the dancers until the first performance, allowing their reactions to be genuine, but more than that, he seems to enjoy their terror which is increasingly the response to his ever more elaborate creations. There is one particularly painful scene to read when Detta goes looking for a missing dancer who she was close to. We as the reader know that Rothbart has murdered her in front of Detta but she is completely unaware, as well as the implications of his actions for her own future. Rothbart is largely absent from the 1920s sections of the novel, with Forster’s main purpose to be to try and find him and convince him to free Detta from his curse. The earlier passages are important to build up his character and the reader’s feelings about his actions. Otherwise he would merely be an absent enemy without much for the reader to engage with.

Forster is a young adult trying to find his way. His father has recently died and the cruel words spoken by his mother haunt his days. Living in London with Marvin he has found a new family, but the pain of his blood ties linger. His artwork has not made any great waves, and although he has an art dealer representing him he hasn’t produced anything very special. All this changes when he attends his first party at Wurthercliffe. Enchanted by Detta and the fantasy world she weaves with her parties, he paints canvas after canvas inspired by her and the art world responds positively. His main purpose however is to stay devoted to Detta, and, in the months where snow is no longer possible, to go in search of Rothbart. This lag in time for each step of the story to progress does mean there are times where you feel not much has happened for a while, but that you’re enjoying the experience nonetheless.

In Forster we see two great passions. The way his experience of creativity is described brings to life the drive artists have to create, and the pain of not being able to accomplish the vision in your mind. His other great passion, of course, is Detta. Their relationship is sweet if predictable. He tries to be faithful to what she wants to share with him, yet finds himself at times trying to find out more than she has disclosed. He accepts the reality of magic and a woman who spends most of her time living as a swan very easily. The pain at their separation and the desperation for the snow to fall, bringing her return to him, are realistically drawn and you do feel for them. We don’t fully understand what the time passing is like for Detta however. At times it seems she has no thought of her human life while in swan form, yet she also seems to continue to be drawn to Forster, suggesting there is some lingering recognition. 

The 1920s setting is fairly incidental for the most part. When Forster spends some time in Paris and we are reminded of the period he is living through and the great creatives populating Europe at the time it feels surprising. The story doesn’t feel rooted in the 1920s, and certainly the descriptions of his artwork do not sound as though he is influenced by the art movements making waves at the time. Kuzniar’s writing does not feel particularly natural, possibly as an attempt to write and have the characters speak as she imagines people did in the 20s. The result is that you’re very aware that you’re reading somebody’s writing, you don’t lose yourself in the world and conversations. In saying that, I did enjoy the book as a whole and found it to be a page turner at times, especially in the latter sections as Forster drew closer to Rothbart. There are interesting themes around aspirations and accomplishments, the drama and difficulty of young adult friendships which feel as important as family, and indeed the tricky navigation of relationships with parents as you grow and develop your own views and desires. Overall, an atmospheric, magical tale that’s great to read during the colder months.

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2025 Wrap Up

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As we reach the end of another year many of us reflect on the year we’ve lived. For me 2025 has been very up and down, with a fair amount of challenges, but there’s been plenty of good too, and that’s what I’ll be focussing on here. It has been my most popular year on the blog, so a huge thank you to you, my readers, for stopping by. I hope it’s been a year of more good than bad for you and that 2026 holds good health, friendship, and excellent books.

Books

I started the year borrowing a stack of non-fiction from the local library about technology and the effect it’s having on us all. These books proved to be fascinating, anxiety inducing reads. They made me reflect on the way technology, and specifically social media, impacts human life on a much broader scale than the individual. I had previously thought mostly about the amount of time we waste scrolling, on the way it degrades relationships due to its constant pull of attention, but these books make me appreciate how much of a problem it is for humanity as a whole, and how its implications can be so much more severe than some wasted time. The Chaos Machine by Max Fisher gave this wide picture, and The Cyber Effect by Mary Aiken really focused in on the impact technology has on young people. An unsettling but important read for anyone with young people in their life. Having been convinced of the dangers of tech, I was pleased to read this recent article on The Guardian which suggests people are moving away from their digital lives in search of real connection. There’s also been a lot of talk on social media recently about how we use technology and how many are planning to shift their use in 2026 to more intentional - using technology as a tool rather than an extension of ourselves. This feels like a worthwhile, achievable aim. 

This year I have also finally cracked the spine on a few books that have been patiently waiting my attention, sometimes for years. This has been a mixed experience. Most recently, I finished City of Wonders by Eduardo Mendoza which I had eagerly anticipated. It was probably my most disappointing read of the year. This is not to say it’s a terrible book, not at all. Early on I really quite enjoyed it, but the further I got into it the more I had to force myself to go back to it. When you go in with high expectations you’re more likely to be disappointed and perhaps if I had just picked it up and read it immediately it would have left a better impression. Similarly, The Mad Women’s Ball by Victoria Mas is one I’ve been looking forward to reading. It didn’t quite hit in the way I’d expected but there was more in it to enjoy. The ideas and issues in it were easy to feel connected to even if the execution wasn’t quite as smooth as I’d hoped. A more successful anticipated read was O Caledonia by Elspeth Barker, which was not quite what I expected but wonderful nonetheless. Absorbing, atmospheric, with a protagonist that feels incredibly real. Finally, and probably the book that has been on my radar for the longest of these (since I saw A.C. Grayling talk at the Hay Festival back in 2016) was a non-fiction, The Age of Genius, which I finished up in the last days of the year, and which I found fascinating. 

The most fun read of the year was undoubtedly Just One Damned Thing After Another by Jodi Taylor, a lively time travel novel which happily is the start of a series. Regular readers will know that I read series incredibly slowly, so it is testament to how much I enjoyed this that I’ve already read book two. My favourite book of the year however, was probably Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin, a moving story of friendship, creativity, and ambition in a period where you didn’t have to be a huge company to create bestselling video games. I loved getting to know the characters, frustrating as they could be at times, and learning more about the work that goes in to creating video games, a topic I’m not particularly familiar with.

I’ve got a few books lined up to read in the early days of 2026, including getting back to Ferrante’s excellent Neapolitan Quartet with The Story of the Lost Child. A non-fiction I picked up a few months back which is drawing my attention, A Life of One’s Own by Joanna Biggs should be an early finish. I’m also considering finally picking up a copy of Mantel’s epic Wolf Hall. As ever, I’d love to hear what you’ve been reading and loving recently.

Exhibitions:

It’s been a year where I’ve embraced my love of art. A reliable favourite was the Broderer’s Exhibition. They exhibit every few years and the work is always stunning. A real testament of what can be done with needle and thread. I also particularly enjoyed Dangerously Modern: Australian Women Artists in Europe 1890-1940 at the Art Gallery of New South Wales, on until 15th February 2026. The artists were almost all new to me and I loved their artwork. It was also interesting to learn about their travels and the influences they took back to Australia with them. I regret not buying the exhibition guide. Not a temporary exhibition, but an art gallery I also enjoyed on my travels was the National Gallery in Athens, well worth a visit.

Moving away from art for a moment, an exhibition at the Science Museum in London, Versailles: Science and Splendour really caught my attention. I enjoyed it so much I wrote a whole review of it. Sadly, it’s now closed.

Travel

2025 started with being stranded on a mountain road in the Cairngorms in a snow storm. A dramatic start, but a beautiful one nonetheless. Our journey back from Scotland allowed us to finally visit Whitby, somewhere that has been on the to-visit list for well over a decade now. It was every bit as lovely as I’d hoped, as well as being bitterly cold. I’d love to go back and spend a bit more time exploring.

I make no secret of finding winter a difficult season (although have tried this year to really embrace all the seasons and what they have to offer) and so visiting a sunnier country toward the end of winter is always an aim to bridge the gap to Spring. This year I was lucky to be able to visit Greece for the first time. We spent almost a week in Athens before heading over to Aegina for a few days of island life. I absolutely loved Athens. It felt relaxed during the day and vibrant in the evenings. Visiting in March meant the weather was warm and sunny during the day and cooler in the evenings. Planning your days to avoid the heat was not a consideration, and the city smelt gorgeous as the orange trees were in blossom. Outside of the city the mountains were covered in wildflowers, a truly beautiful time to visit. Aegina was fairly quiet, tourist season not having kicked in, but in Aegina Town there was plenty open and we explored the ancient ruins around the island as much as possible. A day trip to Agistri was a quiet one, with almost everything being shut, but we enjoyed a pleasant walk, and managed to find an open restaurant for a delicious lunch.

UK weather not being on our side for trips this year, we had a very rainy camping trip in Wales. Putting up your tent in torrential rain and trying to sleep in a lightning storm might not be the most appealing but we saw some beautiful places. The National Botanic Gardens of Wales were lovely despite the weather. We could definitely have spent more time there than we allowed for it. The gardens at Dyffryn were also particularly beautiful, and we enjoyed an evening stroll around the pretty seaside town of Penarth. 

A trip to Gran Canaria was a nice change of pace for people whose holidays are usually pretty full on. We came back feeling more relaxed than any other holiday we’ve been on. That’s not to say we didn’t get out to see the island however. A dolphin watching tour allowed us to see a pod of dolphins in the wild, and a day in Las Palmas provided the culture hit we often seek. A beautiful city with interesting museums and galleries, and a particularly nice beach. A day trip took us into the centre of the island, showing us the variety of landscapes and an insight into the history that has changed it from the lush island it once was. The botanic gardens in Maspalomas made for a pretty stroll on a sunny afternoon. I enjoyed seeing plants that you never see in the UK, and those that you only see in greenhouses here growing outside, and thriving for being in their natural habitat.

An unexpected trip to Australia in October meant seeing the country in Spring for the first time, and with it the beautiful purple jacaranda trees in bloom. We were also incredibly lucky to see dolphins playing in the waves at Palm Beach. We enjoyed the Saturday markets around Sydney and the bookshops of Glebe (a good secondhand bookshop making the otherwise very expensive books of Australia more affordable). We were fortunate to be there during the Sculpture by the Sea trail in Bondi so checked that out, and of course, wandered round more botanic gardens. 

2026 will probably be a quiet year for travel as our bank accounts recover from 2025, but as we had to shift a trip to Belgium for the Australia visit we know we’ll be going there. Any recommendations of what to see and do very welcome. 

O Caledonia, Elspeth Barker

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O Caledonia opens with an atmospheric description of the place of sixteen year old Janet’s recent death. She has been laid to rest away from the family plot in the local graveyard, a fact they are not entirely unhappy about, fearing ‘Her restless spirit might wish to engage with theirs in eternal self-justifying conversation or, worse still, accusation. She had blighted their lives; let her not also blight their deaths.’ It becomes clear in this opening chapter that Janet was not well loved, except by her bird, Claws, who committed suicide after her loss. Her family no longer talk about her, and the gossip of locals soon moves on. The rest of the novel takes us back through Janet’s short life, where we will discover that she did not deserve the disdain she received merely for not fitting in with convention.

Living in a remote castle in Scotland, Janet enjoys the space and the animals, but when her parents turn it into a boys school she finds herself under constant threat of harassment. An outcast for her gender, she attempts to show that she is as courageous as any boy, with limited success. She also develops tactics to avoid the unwanted advances of the others students. This danger from boys is present at multiple times throughout the novel, and feels like something her inattentive parents should have taken into consideration when filling her home with adolescent boys. 

Gender roles are a recurring theme. We learn early on that her father believes girls to be an inferior form of boy, but that this unfortunate circumstance can be improved with education. Janet is intelligent and curious, but her bright spark is ignored. People are confused by her disinterest in babies and playing with dolls. She is equally as confused as to why it should be expected she should be just because she is a girl. Her own mother is no great advert for motherhood - Janet overhears her telling a friend she only really likes babies and finds children annoying, that it’s possible to not like your own child. Janet’s response? To feel that she has no need for a mother. And yet, there is a longing within Janet to fit in. Part of this manifests itself in a desire to be able to talk to other girls who are interested in completely different things. We see this desire reflected by her mother as they prepare for a party, wishing she could share the excitement of getting ready with Janet, that they would bond over the choosing of their outfits. Janet, naturally, does not opt for an outfit which her mother approves of, and in her resplendent purple dress she certainly stands out. She does exhibit a desire to be found attractive however - her mother once reports in astonishment that a friend has commented that Janet has a lovely face. She is flattered but instantly worries that if she ever sees her again she will change her mind so resolves to make sure she never does.

The opening chapter suggests that Janet will be difficult and objectionable, but we see throughout that she is merely a young girl doing her best. Often she is in trouble simply because she has misunderstood instructions, at other times because her passions lie in different areas. She loves animals and keeps Claws with her in her bedroom, where he protects her, but also, unfortunately, makes quite a mess. She feels deeply when animals are hurt and avoids the kitchen as there are more often than not animal corpses being prepared for food. You can see how some of her behaviours would be challenging for her parents, but she is kind and thoughtful, and her family do not give her the time or attention to really understand where she is coming from. Her closest human ally in the castle, for a time at least, is Lila. A relative by marriage, Lila’s presence in the castle was one of the terms of her father receiving it, and she largely keeps to herself. She enjoys drinking whiskey, painting, and foraging, and although they don’t necessarily talk much Janet finds comfort in her presence. 

I had saved this book for the darker months, thinking it would suit the season. It undoubtedly has touches of the gothic, but it is a much lighter book than I expected. It has been likened to a mix between We Have Always Lived in the Castle and I Capture the Castle, and I can certainly see the resemblances. You feel for Janet as she tries to navigate family life, and then boarding school, an even more challenging environment. I became so involved in her life that I would find myself forgetting that we were heading toward a bloody ending. When we do circle back to her murder it feels shocking. I went back and read the first chapter after finishing it to compare how expectations had been set and how they compared. I found Janet much more sympathetic than might have been expected. There is much in here that young adults will relate to, as well as anyone who has ever felt out of place. A wonderful, richly evocative read with an enigmatic, oft-misunderstood protagonist.

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