The Confessions of Frannie Langton, Sara Collins

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Frannie Langton is born into slavery on a plantation ironically named Paradise. There she witnesses extreme cruelty. She learns to read, and as a result is forced to help Langton with his experiments, the horrors of which haunt her throughout. The plantation burns down and she is taken to London where legally she is free but Langton nonetheless gifts her to his rival Mr Benham. We know from the start that she is on trial for the murder of Mr and Mrs Benham and this colours the way we watch their relationship develop. She sees how unhappy Mrs Benham is in her marriage and as they grow closer a physical attraction develops. She is judged by the other servants in the household, and the two of them descend into opium addiction, yet it is a cruel turn of fate orchestrated by Mr Benham that seems likely to push them both over the edge. 

The circumstances of the murder are hazy. Frannie doesn’t remember what happened, and the witnesses pointing fingers are basing their assumptions on circumstantial evidence and prejudice. Frannie’s confessions are her opportunity to give voice to her life. She resents the people who take on the role of white saviours, revelling in hearing tales of suffering, making money from the misery of others. She wants her life to be understood fully, not to be mere entertainment, a way for people to feel better about themselves. Her writing is passionate and engrossing. Her life has undoubtedly been difficult, the people around her treating her terribly, but she is so much more than what has been done to her. 

She is not used to receiving affection. Growing up not knowing who her mother is, after the loss of another slave in the house at Paradise, Langton becomes her closest acquaintance. His experiments aim to prove that people of colour are not human as a way of justifying slavery and ill-treatment. He sees that Frannie is intelligent and in private speaks to her with some degree of respect, but as soon as he is in the company of white men she is treated as invisible. The fact he gifts her to Benham shows that he never really saw her as anything more than a possession he could use to his own advantage. She is left with a feeling of confusion, of temporary sorrow at his exit from her life. The lingering emotion however is guilt, shame at what they did together, an inability to absolve herself of responsibility for the actions she was forced to perform. There is a sense that she is willing to take the blame for a murder she may not have committed as punishment for the evil deeds she’d witnessed and been forced to participate in.

The women in the houses where she lives are unhappy and bored, a very dangerous circumstance for those who serve them. They have no love for their husbands and take steps to try to avoid pregnancy, taking what little control they can. Mrs Benham is forced to perform her role as a good wife and hostess even when she is suffering, and Mr Benham’s attempts to save face descend into cruelty. Frannie sees this and feels for the woman she has come to care for deeply. Their relationship is a difficult one, and far from being equal. When Frannie finds herself alone she realises how little opportunity there is for women of colour to even buy themselves a drink, let alone find work that doesn’t involve satisfying the sexual whims of wealthy men.

Her life is hard and full of suffering, disappointment, and rejection, yet she is defiant. She knows that she is capable and intelligent and will do what she must to survive. Her confessions are powerful. Langton and Benham are fictional characters but their actions reflect experiments that were carried out around this period. A haunting, disturbing book. Well written and with characters that feel real, this is an impressive debut. 

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Gender Euphoria, edited by Laura Kate Dale

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This post is part of the blog tour for the book. Thanks to Random Things Tours and Unbound for providing me with a free copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

This groundbreaking anthology brings together the experiences of non-binary, agender, gender fluid, and intersex writers, focussing on gender euphoria rather than the dysphoria that usually gets the most column inches. The result is a moving, enlightening book that will give you a real insight into the lives of non-cisgender people and the experiences that give them the greatest sense of gender euphoria.

The writers are all fairly young but are from all walks of life with very individual stories to tell. The editor, Laura Kate Dale, contributes a number of essays on her experiences as a pansexual trans woman. The scenarios are different but there’s a connecting theme of joy when the writers learn to love themselves with or without the approval of people around them. Many find freedom in letting go of overtly trying to hide signs of their birth assigned gender - tales of obsessively plucking all facial hair daily, feeling the need to constantly wear feminised clothes regardless of whether they fit the mood or not, give an insight in the constant practical issues that can cause a lot of stress and feelings of restriction. A lot of this arises more from a desire for others to correctly gender them rather than necessarily needing it for their own sense of identity. The reader feels the relief and freedom of reaching a point where going out with a bit of facial hair showing is no longer seen as an insurmountable barrier, and the euphoria that comes with being correctly gendered by others. 

One essay talks of the challenges of being pregnant and breastfeeding, activities that are heavily gendered by society, as a non-binary person. Another speaks of their fear as a trans man getting married that they’d be referred to as a wife during the ceremony, and the joy that came with a celebrant that took the time to understand their concerns and helped make the day a euphoric one.

This is a book that doesn’t shy away from the challenges of those who battle not only their own insecurities but lack of understanding from society more broadly. They write with great honesty about their experiences and sense of isolation, but also of acceptance and finding safe spaces where they’re finally able to feel themselves without fear. It’s a book that will make you smile and make you cry, but most importantly, you’ll close the book with a much greater understanding of the lived experiences of the writers and the little things we can all do to make the world a happier, more accepting place.

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The Shadowy Third: Love, Letters, and Elizabeth Bowen, Julia Parry

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

A death in the family results in Parry becoming custodian of a box of letters between her grandfather, Humphry House, who she never met, and celebrated novelist Elizabeth Bowen. The details of their affair had been passed down through family lore but the presence of these tangible remnants of their relationship compel her to go in search of them. Her grandmother, Madeline, is largely silent because she destroyed many of her own letters from the period, and yet her personality and intelligence is clear throughout. Often dismissed as dull and unintelligent by both Elizabeth and Humphry, Parry brings her to life in the pages of this fascinating memoir.

Unlike many biographers Parry places herself firmly in the book, discussing her physical journey to the places of importance to the trio, as well as the emotional journey her research takes her on. Coming to the book with no prior knowledge of Bowen I was able to enjoy the intimate family history, the discussion of how stories are passed down and pieced together, and the way voices are silenced or raised in the choices made by those who care for the archives. Parry makes history feel a very personal pursuit and the result is a book that will interest not just fans of Bowen but those interested in social and gender history.

Humphry’s affair with Elizabeth began after his initial engagement to Madeline was broken, but when their marriage became a certainty there was no question that the affair would end. He was painfully open about his dual romantic life, seemingly giving no thought to how either woman would feel being reminded of the other’s presence. He even went as far as orchestrating meetings between them, which naturally were uncomfortable events for both parties. Elizabeth was not impressed by his choice of wife and desired their affair to proceed entirely separate from either of their marriages. She was completely committed to making her success of her own but found sexual and intellectual stimulation outside of it, having many more lovers after Humphry.

Elizabeth is shown to be cutting in her assessment of other women and desires control in her affairs. She lays clear boundaries for Humphry but quickly breaks them herself. Through their letters we see high emotion and occasional jealousy, especially on the news of Madeline’s first pregnancy. The two gradually grow apart, and although their romantic attachment fades their friendship remains. Elizabeth seems to have gained a confidence from Humphry’s affections that propels her into a busy social life in London.

We see Humphry through Elizabeth’s eyes in her letters, supposedly worn down and depressed by marital and parental responsibility, yet coming alive when with her in Ireland. Despite this assessment of their marriage we see on several occasions that when Humphry and Madeline have time alone, especially when working on projects together, their relationship thrives.

Humphry does not come across as entirely likeable, frequently leaving his heavily pregnant wife to spend time with Elizabeth. Similarly, he leaves her to look after their young daughters alone, meeting their second for the first time when she was already walking and talking. We do not have written evidence of Madeline’s feelings during this time but it is not hard to feel sympathy for her, having given up her job and left her friends to move to Exeter with Humphry, she is frequently abandoned in a lonely, dank cottage.

Humphry underestimates his wife’s talents frequently. Indeed, he seems to struggle to take female intellectual pursuit seriously, being dismissive of his female University students. He does Madeline a great injustice in not appreciating her strength and active mind. She went to University at a time where it was not common, carried out meaningful work in the slums of London, and spent a month alone in Germany before their wedding, just after the Nazis had come to power. Her knowledge of German was essential to his work as he relied on her for translation. She later worked tirelessly on editions of Dickens letters, a project initiated by Humphry but which became her crowning glory. Throughout she shows determination and flare and refuses to be dismissed as a simpering housewife.

It is at times hard to believe the way Humphry conducted himself, but Parry resists judgment. She offers a fair and considered view of a history so close to her heart. This is a fascinating book made possible by the strong epistolary tradition of the participants. The letters are not presented in full, and Parry admits to editing to weave her own story, an acknowledgment that the telling of history is never without its biases. A brilliant tale of a complex marriage, and a chance to read previously unpublished letters, shining a light on a relationship that has otherwise been publicly obscured.

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Vegetarian Meals in 30 Minutes, Anita Bean

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Bean’s latest offering serves up her signature no-nonsense, healthy meals. The book opens with a discussion of nutrients and their sources for vegetarians, what you need before, during, and after a workout, and even dispels a few nutritional myths. This is a brilliant resource to check back to when planning meals.

 

The recipes themselves offer a comprehensive array of options from breakfast through to dessert. Each recipe includes nutritional information and she writes about the particular benefits of each meal. There are a number of vegan recipes included, and the majority that do include dairy she offers options for making them vegan. The recipes have got richer flavours than in her previous vegetarian cookbook and I find myself using the book several times a week. It’s even encouraged me to shake up my breakfast and lunches, meals that often get the least thought.

 

Overall, a brilliant book for those wanting to ensure they are getting a healthy mix of nutrients, and proof that being healthy doesn’t mean you can’t have some treats too. There are a few recipes in here that take a little more than thirty minutes, which she highlights with a little clock symbol, but for the most part they’re quick and tasty meals perfect for any day of the week.

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The Turn of the Screw, Henry James

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James’s most famous ghost story is set in a remote house with a small cast of characters. A young governess has recently joined the household and although at first believes it to be an idyllic post, she soon finds herself entangled in a terrible tale. She begins to see ghostly figures around the estate that resemble previous employees who are recently deceased. The two children in her care are well behaved and beautiful but she soon comes to believe they are in league with the ghosts, leading to a tragic attempt to protect them.

The novel is told in first person narrative by the governess (except for the opening which merely introduces the account that follows). We see in her a woman who takes on far more than she can manage in a futile attempt to please her employer, who remains absent throughout. Seeing events unfold through her eyes we are led to understand how she came to her conclusions yet critics have been divided over whether or not the ghosts are real or if she is descending into madness. James’s careful ambiguity has allowed this debate to rage for decades and it is ultimately a question that will remain forever unanswered. Whichever way you read it, it is clear that you cannot take the narrative as absolute truth.

The first appearance of the ghost peering in through the window is truly unsettling and as the story progresses the governess fabricates an internal life for them, imagining their purpose and beliefs despite them never speaking a word or indicating any intention to do harm. Is she allowing her paranoia and imagination to run away from her? Rumours of the actions of both the previous employees hang over the governess and contribute to her belief that their presence will end in harm.

The children have moments of playing up which she believes is a result of ghostly interference, causing a strong reaction in her. The children are unsurprisingly unnerved by the seemingly erratic, extreme responses of their governess. Is she acting in selfless defence of her charges, wishing to be the hero of their story, or are her own delusions causing their strange behaviour?

An atmospheric read that will send shivers down your spine. Whether character study or ghost story, it is an intriguing tale and a sinister one at that. A book that stands up well to a re-read, especially when considering the opposing interpretations.

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Questions of Travel, Michelle de Kretser

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De Kretser’s sweeping novel gives us glimpses into the lives of Ravi and Laura from the 1970s through to 2004. The early decades fly by while the later chapters take more time, reveal more of their lives. Laura, a young woman from Sydney, follows in the footsteps of many who have felt the tug of wanderlust, travelling around Europe, never really settling. She’s aware of the futility of her endeavours, of the predictable and shallow experiences, yet feels at a loss when she finds herself outside the guidance of her travel book. Ravi, growing up in war-torn Sri Lanka, finds himself travelling for entirely different reasons, not ones of indulgence but necessity.

There are rich, evocative descriptions of the countries and cities that the characters visit. Laura seems to always be yearning for more, for a deeper encounter with other cultures while realising how superficial most travel is.

It was simply wonderful how away confirmed that home was best. Photographs were produced as evidence that travel had occurred, for the travellers themselves were unchanged. Souvenirs, strategically displayed around the house, proclaimed the sophistication and broadness of outlook that familiarity with foreign cultures conferred. And that was all of overseas that anyone needed.

Ravi intuitively approaches Australia openly, absorbing the mundane, enjoying the fast food and freedom of sitting and watching the world go by. When working for a travel guide publisher the suggestions he makes for places to be included in the Sydney guide are places where visitors would be able to see the breadth of cultures that the city nurtures, the normal lives of its inhabitants. He is gently told that people don’t want to see the ordinary, they want the landmarks and the iconic sights while still feeling that they’re having a unique experience. Most people join the company because of a love of travel but soon accept the cynical truth.

The sense of belonging is also a recurring theme. Laura finds herself moving around, trying to find somewhere that she feels she belongs without allowing herself time to lay down roots. She acknowledges that when she dreams of places she’s been it’s always the same – a warm evening in Sydney, a rainy afternoon in London. In reminiscence and longing the variety and drudgery of reality are lost. Ravi, having been forced away from his once stable life has mixed feelings about both his new home and his old. He realises he is afraid of staying but also afraid of going back.

Their relationships also play a role in their sense of self. There are the fleeting encounters and the unkept promises, friendships full of love that turn into people you want to avoid, and those you’ve never liked but find yourself reliant on. The nature of friendship and familiar love follows them through their lives, shaping them and sometimes arising in them. There is a sense for both that they are ultimately alone.

Politics plays its part too, not just in its displacement of people but in the reactions of those they encounter. Ravi is a refugee in Australia and although he is considered the ‘right kind’ on account of having arrived by plane rather than on a boat, he experiences the negative attitudes, the expectations. His colleagues are disappointed that his grief and trauma aren’t performative enough. They do not truly try to get to know him, and their unthinking remarks show a lack of compassion. He is not quite what they want him to be.

This is a vast book spanning continents and decades, the writing is indulgent and evocative. What at first seems a wandering tale of ordinary life has moments of potency. De Kretser is a sharp commentator on the state of the world and draws believable characters, resisting the temptation for neat coincidences and a tidy ending. A book that will absorb you and throw off your expectations.

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Murmur, Will Eaves

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Alec Pryor's story uses Alan Turing's life as inspiration in Eaves’ latest novel. The character worked at Bletchley Park and is undergoing chemical castration for engaging in homosexual activity. We know that Alec is a doppelganger for Turing but Eaves is clear that there was a purpose for this slight separation of historic figure and fictional character. He did not want to attribute words and thoughts to Turing that he would likely have rejected. The characters in the novel have a life of their own while shining a light on history.

The structure jumps around in time and style. At times we are taken back to his school days and first love – Christopher Molyneaux who died tragically young. We see him in dreams and flashbacks, the memory of him haunting Alec still. There are also letters between Alec and his ex-fiancée June. Intimate, honest letters that show the depth of their friendship and mutual respect for each other’s intelligence. We see in flashbacks his proposal and the transparency of their relationship – he was honest with her about his sexuality and expectations, not wanting to trap her in an unfulfilling marriage.

There are musings on his change of appearance caused by the injections. He seems barely recognisable but knows, deep down, that it doesn’t change who he is, and acknowledges the strangeness in seeing our own reflection, that there’s also something between it and reality. He approaches his treatment intellectually, almost as though he sees it as a research opportunity, he doesn’t rail against the injustice of it.

Another theme that recurs is that of personal responsibility. He comments that the nurse who injects him is able to separate her actions from the result as someone else has ordered it, she is just doing her job. Later Eaves writes ‘pain is memory without witness or corroboration. It isn’t real to anyone else, and that is what allows torturers, including governments, to be torturers. They can pretend it isn’t happening because it isn’t happening to them.’ In interviews Eaves has spoken of the importance of including Turing’s interest in psychology and philosophy in the novel, areas of his intellectual life that are not commonly known. They are carefully woven into the narrative, making the reader think more broadly about human behaviour.

An interesting read whose prose is almost poetic at times. One to read if you like your fiction to leave you with lots to mull over.

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The Woman of Rome, Alberto Moravia translated by Lydia Holland and Tami Calliope

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Moravia’s 1949 novel tells the story of Adriana, a young woman who lives in a poor area of Rome with her mother. At sixteen she has grown to be beautiful and her mother believes this will be their way out of poverty. She takes her to an artist to pose nude and encourages her to become a prostitute, a more lucrative trade but one that runs counter to Adriana’s dreams of marriage and raising a family. It is not long before she falls in love, and although we know it won’t work out (the narrator is an older Adriana who drops in snippets of information she has gained through the years), she is completely wrapped up in the idea, much to her mother’s distress. Her model friend Gisella tricks her into spending time with Astarita, a man completely obsessed with her. The events of this meeting are the catalyst for a change of direction for Adriana and she comes to crave the freedom of not being beholden to any man. Her new life brings her into contact with hardened criminals, a new love, and Astarita, although she has learned to use his insatiable lust to her advantage.

She speaks of how the denial of things she wanted as a child while living in close proximity to Luna Park, a fairground that she desperately wanted to visit, led her to feel as though she is locked out of a world of happiness. It’s also hard for her to feel her self-worth, settling for men she knows don’t love her. This is rooted in her relationship with her mother who has told her repeatedly that she was the ruin of her. She had not wanted to become a mother and when she fell  pregnant it was the end of her prosperity and happiness. Adriana is sympathetic, believing that her behaviour is an attempt to protect her from the same fate.

Adriana’s life lacks positive relationships. Gisella facilitates her rape in what is an incredibly uncomfortable scene, blaming her afterward by claiming it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t wanted it. Astarita believes himself in love with her but degrades her, showing little respect for her as a person. Her first love, Gino, lies to her. Giacomo, her second love, does not pretend to love her but continues their relationship. Other men she encounters use her one way or another. There are many times that it’s easy to feel sorry for Adriana but there’s much to dislike in her personality. She becomes fickle and enjoys the suffering of others. There’s something about the way she is written that feels false, as though the author hasn’t successfully encapsulated the reality of life as a woman.

An interesting read, at times gripping, but the style of writing does not flow all that easily. This could be a result of translation, or a deliberate device to show that it is Adriana who is telling us the story.

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Dynasty: The Rise and Fall of the House of Caesar, Tom Holland

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Holland’s book on the Julio-Claudian dynasty has the pace and interest of a novel, making it easy to forget you’re reading non-fiction. We are swept through the dangerous and erratic lives of the most powerful men in the world at the time, interlaced with Rome’s origin myth and broader historic notes such as the ability of descendants of freedmen to rise through the ranks. Coming to the topic as a novice, it makes for an entertaining, engaging read.

The history of ancient Rome’s ruling elite is bloodstained and full of intrigue at a time when having even a vague claim to power could leave you with a slit throat. Holland highlights both the impact that the wolfish origin myths had on the Roman psyche, creating driven, violent men, as well as the popularity of gossip and rumour. These rumours are passed down to us with little dissection, whether they are true or not playing second fiddle to the melodrama. It is a valid point however, that even if not true, it is telling that citizens would believe their ruler would set fire to the city in order to make way for a palatial garden, for example.

There are moments where the subjects seem somewhat more relatable – Tiberius’ sorrow at his forced divorce from a wife he loved for a more politically beneficial match, or Claudius’ rejection by his family for his misfortunes from birth. Sympathy is short-lived however as they proceed to murder, rape, and generally abuse their power. None more so perhaps than the last of the dynasty, Nero, whose grief at the death of his wife (by his own hand…) led him to castrating a young boy who resembled the deceased and forcing him to act the role of wife for the rest of his life. Deranged as these behaviours are, and as much as this may seem like a male-dominated tale, there are plenty of ruthlessly ambitious women scheming to manoeuver themselves and their offspring into positions of influence and power.

A very readable introduction to one of history’s most infamous families. The narrative style is occasionally a little odd as it seems to mingle assumed thoughts of the classical figures with Holland’s narrative voice. Not the most probing of historical accounts but one that encapsulates all the drama, excess, and treachery of a family desperate for power.

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Hired: Undercover in Low-Wage Britain, James Bloodworth

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For six months, James Bloodworth went undercover in low-wage jobs around Britain to experience first hand the uncertainty and hardship caused by the current ‘gig economy’, a phrase that he derides for the positive spin it puts on exploitative work models. He acknowledges that he is something of a tourist in these industries, that although he lives in the squalid conditions many workers are forced into he always knows there’s an end point and money in the bank. Nonetheless, it gives a voice to those without the luxury of time and comfort to write a book. It is an eye-opening account of the appalling conditions of workers across the country and a reminder that our use of cheap and convenient services such as Amazon and Uber perpetuate this uncertain job market.

His first job was in an Amazon warehouse in Rugeley in which all staff were on zero hours contracts and conveniently ‘released’ (their word for firing, part of a wider language used to mask the reality of shocking treatment) before they reached nine months and a permanent contract. They were regularly underpaid and fobbed off by the agency who recruited them and consistently treated them with disdain. The working conditions were exhausting and unrelenting – a half hour lunch break fell far short when considering time taken to get to the canteen and through security. Their actions were constantly monitored and they were penalized for too much time idling (including toilet and water breaks) as well as being disciplined for taking a day off sick.

The local community were disgruntled by the outcome that Amazon’s arrival had created. They were promised local rejuvenation but in reality locals did not take jobs at the warehouse. The largely Eastern European workers were shocked that Bloodworth, an Englishman, would choose to work there. People knew the working conditions were substandard and were reluctant to put up with it. It was known that the workforce was largely made up of migrant workers but it was not their presence they were upset about as much as the town’s declining prosperity.

Next he tried his hand at being a care worker in Blackpool. What he discovered was that it was surprisingly easy to get such a job and that the training was inadequate. Most staff were on zero hours, minimum wage contracts and worked long hours often without a break. Bloodworth was clear that it is not a lack of genuine desire to help on the part of the carers so much as unrealistic expectations or insufficient training that led to low levels of care.

Between 1979 and 2012 the amount of NHS and council provided nursing home beds fell from 64% to just 6%. Privatisation has resulted in the focus shifting to profit rather than care. The poor treatment of staff was harder to bear than at Amazon because of the knock-on effect is has on the ‘customer’. The tight schedule meant you weren’t able to just chat to them, something most of them craved. It also encouraged cutting corners as you knew any delays would cause a backlog for the rest of the day.

His third job was working for Admiral in a call-centre in Wales, and although the least offensive of the roles, there was nonetheless a sense of constant surveillance and a false sense of community spirit – enforced ‘fun’ and cringe worthy roleplaying and singing. There was also the intense boredom inherent in so many modern jobs and one of the most challenging aspects of such work.

His final foray into low-wage work was driving for Uber in London. A company that sells itself on the freedom its drivers experience soon proved anything but. The cost to the customer is set by Uber and the driver isn’t told the destination when a job pings through on their phone, meaning they can drive far out of their way for what ends up being a £5 job (less once Uber have taken their share). Drivers are also penalized if they reject too many jobs and are encouraged to stay out for longer and longer hours. They get no workers’ rights because technically they are self-employed yet have to accept work entirely on Uber’s terms. Bloodworth describes a feeling similar to that experienced when gambling, seeing how much you can earn in a day (although it often works out as less than minimum wage).

This book comes highly recommended and will open your eyes to the struggles of thousands of workers around the country. Bloodworth spends time getting to know people in the communities in which he lived and worked, providing a much broader view than his own narrow experience.

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Looking for Alaska, John Green

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Three Things About Elsie, Joanna Cannon

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As Florence Claybourne lies on her living room floor waiting to be found, she has plenty of time to go over recent happenings at Cherry Tree Home for the Elderly. She has recently been put on probation – the threat of being sent to Greenbanks, a home for those who need more support, hangs over her. Life at Cherry Tree had been mundane, passing the days with her lifelong best friend Elsie and fellow resident Jack. That is until Gabriel Price moves in, a man that looks suspiciously like cruel Ronnie Butler who died as a young adult. Florence is convinced he is setting her up to look like she’s losing her marbles, and is determined to reveal his true identity.

As readers we are encouraged to think of Florence as an unreliable narrator – she is forgetful and frequently relies on Elsie to help piece her memories back together. It creates a dilemma – is Gabriel Price trying to sabotage her peaceful retirement (and why) or is she creating the bizarre situations herself? We see her frustration clearly with her repeated mantra of ‘I’m not allowed to do very much any more, but I’m still allowed to make a point.’ The loss of control and the challenges that come with being labeled ‘old’ are well drawn and heartfelt.

Supporting characters are also realistic – Miss Ambrose whose bright clothes don’t match her personality, and Handy Simon who’s just trying to get by without being noticed too much. They both question the path their lives are taking and are very relatable. It is also interesting in the later chapters to gain their perspective when the narrative focus shifts.

This book was so much more than I’d imagined and will tug at your heartstrings. As the truth of Florence, Elsie, and Ronnie Butler’s history is slowly revealed you feel the pain that Florence has been holding on to for so long and how painful it must be to have to re-remember it all. A novel full of genuine, tender moments, with an intriguing mystery to keep you wanting more. A very human, well observed piece that will raise questions of how we treat the more vulnerable members of our society.

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George Balanchine: The Ballet Maker, Robert Gottlieb

Having served on the Board of Directors at New York City Ballet, Gottlieb knew Balanchine and his dancers and so brings a personal perspective to the biography. From the loneliness of his childhood to his deathbed, this is an informal biography of one of ballet’s greats, and in which the author does not hide his admiration. In it we see a man who shakes up the ballet world while remaining largely liked.

It is no secret that his muses were normally young female dancers, he did not respond to male movement with such adoration. Even when Baryshnikov joined NYCB he was not treated in any special way and no new works were created on him. Balanchine rewarded those who were loyal to him highly and there is only one dancer included who does not speak kindly of him, a rare feat for a creative genius. He was married multiple times and seems to have taken it in his stride that they would not last forever, although he loyally cared for Tanaquil le Clerque when she was struck down with Polio, despite the fact they had agreed to go their separate ways before tragedy struck. His attitude to money was similarly easy-going, giving it away as freely as he earned it.

What emerges is a portrait of a man whose creative output was vast and who changed the landscape of ballet, and yet always had a loneliness lingering. For one remembered as a choreographer it is also remarked upon that he was a beautiful dancer and that those performing his works often felt they’d never be able to dance them as beautifully. A warm, chatty biography that is a joy to read, though by no means comprehensive.

Melmoth, Sarah Perry

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Using Charles Maturin’s 1820 novel Melmoth the Wanderer as inspiration, Perry brings us a modern gothic that forces us to ponder guilt and responsibility. Transforming the wretched wanderer into a woman forced to walk the Earth with bleeding feet as punishment for denying the risen Christ, Perry adds a religious dynamic to the tale. Taking her cue from Maturin, stories are folded into stories as we witness people at their most desperate. Karel Pražan in modern day Prague is haunted by the idea that Melmoth is watching, ever alert for the ripple of her black robes in the shadow. He tries to shake off the superstition, laughing about it with his wife Thea but repeated references to empty chairs left waiting for Melmotka and bloody footprints slowly fading blurs the line between fiction and reality.

Helen Franklin, friend of Karel’s, an unassuming woman hellbent on a self-imposed penitence for the actions of her youth reads through the evidence and testimonials and becomes entangled in the web of misery that surrounds it. Josef Hoffmann’s confession of his role in the Holocaust is the starting block, showing Perry isn’t likely to shy away from the atrocities of history. The juxtaposition of destruction on such a large scale compared to Karel’s betrayal of his recently disabled wife demonstrates that life’s horrors and soul destroying guilt come in many forms. It also lends a relatable humanity to the narrative as we see each character wrestle with their consciences, intermingled so that the reader is in an almost constant state of heightened emotion.

Each tale is heartwrenching but the constant hopping around in the narrative interrupts the flow and lessens the impact as you’re forced to reacquaint yourself with the different time periods and locations. Full of intriguing characters that scream out for more page time, this is a disorienting novel with moments of beautiful prose.

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Our House, Louise Candlish

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When Fi Lawson returns from a romantic holiday she finds a stranger moving into her home claiming to have bought it. With Fi’s husband missing and uncontactable and her children not at school the nightmarish scenario continues to escalate. This unusual premise is slowly dissected through transcripts of Fi’s appearance on popular podcast The Victim and her husband Bram’s lengthy confessional suicide document.

Fi and Bram separate after his infidelity is discovered but attempt a living arrangement whereby they both have time in their flat each week in the hope of minimizing any upset to their sons. Bram’s document reveals how Fi’s understanding gave him the opportunity to carry out fraud as we see his lies build until he is backed into a corner. Reading both accounts side by side we see Fi’s innocent naivety with each step, and yet can we trust either of them as narrators? Fi’s story is for public consumption and she admits that she has lied about two things in it. Bram is allegedly in a wretched state of mind, or is it a ploy to enable him to vanish without facing the repercussions of his actions?

Bram behaves badly throughout the novel, he cheats and lies, and it is this that causes his, and as a result Fi’s, downfall.  He is frustrating at times, desperately trying to extricate himself from the misery that unfolds when he could make it go away in an instant if he owned up to his actions. Nonetheless, it is his blackmailers that bear the brunt of ill will and some sympathy is afforded Bram in his desperation. At moments Fi’s predicament pulls on the heartstrings as you feel the hopelessness of it all. We watch as the betrayal grows, sometimes forgetting that she is entirely oblivious to all the events leading to it.

The story itself just about holds on to believability until the end where it becomes just a bit too far-fetched. An entertaining, at times gripping novel that leaves a lot of loose ends to ponder.

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Look Me in the Eye, Silvia Soler, translated by Richard Thomson

Blanca is working on a translation of a novel by Matteo Spadaro when she finds herself so deeply affected by the story that she begins to question the security of her own world. Translating the disintegration of a fictional relationship leads to doubts chipping away at her own happy marriage. She decides that she needs to visit Sicily, the location of Spadaro’s novel, where she meets the author and discovers that fiction is often not as far removed from reality as one might imagine.

An interesting concept exploring the power of art over reality and the damage paranoia can do. Unfortunately, the potential is not fully realised in this perplexing book. Bruna, the fictional character, has something of a breakdown caused by worry that her husband Massimo is having an affair. Rather than taking this as a cautionary tale, Blanca goes even further in her irrational behaviour. Her actions are far-fetched at best as she allows her obsession to blind her to reality. She behaves deplorably but seems to have no awareness of how contradictory she is being, nor how badly she is treating her partner, Raimon.

The writing style felt unsophisticated, whether the fault of the original author or translator I don’t know. There are moments where you almost care about the characters but the opportunities are passed up. It could, possibly, be redeemed with a more significant, consequential ending but instead the reader is left feeling cold.

Sovereign, C. J. Sansom

Sovereign is the third outing for lawyer turned detective Matthew Shardlake. The year is 1541 and the King’s Progress has reached York, a hostile city that does not welcome the arrival of so many southerners. The king hopes his visit will help quell resistance in the north but bad weather and an absent king of Scotland delays the Progress and puts huge strain on a city that hasn’t forgiven Henry for the split from Rome.

In his characteristic style Sansom does not sugarcoat life in the Tudor period. He describes the rotting corpses hung over the gates to the city, the hardships endured by the citizens and the uncertainty of the age. The story revolves around those who believe the king is not the rightful heir to the throne and Shardlake himself is in danger when it seems he’s seen incriminating documents. The claustrophobic atmosphere of fear and suspicion is expertly crafted.

Shardlake is under orders to ensure Broderick, a rebel prisoner, is kept alive ready to be tortured in the Tower once returned to London. This causes a conflict of morals for him, knowing the horrors of the torture chamber. There are also hints that Shardlake could be swayed by the conspirators’ point of view, though he has enough experience and diplomacy not to allow himself to become incriminated.

He nonetheless finds himself in an increasingly difficult situation as he discovers secrets of the Queen alongside his assistant Barak and love interest Tamasin. This knowledge sees Shardlake interrogated under false accusations and the sheer horror of torture is shown through the descent into madness and suicide of a number of characters awaiting interrogation.

An atmospheric novel that balances a number of interlinked mysteries, the climax of which is a real page turner. The sights, smells, and struggles of life in the sixteenth century are realistically evoked and the historic note at the end explains any variance from reality.

Walking Home: Travels with a Troubadour on the Pennine Way, Simon Armitage

Walking Home is an account of Armitage's attempt to walk the 256 miles of the Pennine Way. Whereas most tackle the route from south the north he decided to reverse the route and start in Kirk Yetholm, where he was refused the privilege of signing the book of finishers on account of just beginning. This back to front journey would have him walking to his childhood home of Marsden. His chosen route threw up some interesting challenges, not least having to navigate in the opposite direction. He realised at several points that were he walking in the conventional direction the trail would build up to spectacular features whereas he would witness them first, diminishing what followed.

Part of the challenge was to go penniless and rely on poetry readings en route for money, and the kindness of strangers for somewhere to sleep (and transport the bulk of his luggage in a large suitcase, affectionately referred to as The Tombstone, to his next stop). This was of course made easier by his being one of Britain's best known poets and the benefits of modern technology allowing for broad publicity before he set off, ensuring he had a reliable host and event organiser at each day's destination. This does not of course detract from the effort involved in undertaking the walk and spending his evenings performing rather than recuperating. The readings took place in varied venues from village halls, pubs, and even a host's living room, with equally as varied audiences and distractions.

He was lucky that for much of the route he had companions, many of whom were experts in the landscape. Nonetheless there were moments of getting hopelessly lost and reminders that there are still wild areas of the country with hostile terrain. The times of confusion during solo walks are all the more painfully described as he hopes for help from passing walkers. There's no sugar coating his experience - contained within the pages are tales of exhaustion, frustration and elation on a trail he describes as '... a pointless exercise, leading from nowhere in particular to nowhere in particular, via no particular route and for no particular reason.'

Part travelogue part memoir, this is an amusing tale of endurance on Britain's oldest, toughest National Trail.

Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier

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Du Maurier’s most popular novel is narrated by the unnamed second wife of Maxim de Winter, broody owner of Manderley, his ancestral home. It is so vividly described and central to the novel that it almost becomes a character in its own right. The couple meet in the South of France les than a year after the death of his first wife, Rebecca. Even during the proposal he expresses no love for the timid narrator and she naively accepts, thinking she is freeing herself from her servitude of companion to Mrs Van Hopper but condemning herself to a passionless marriage and a similar subservient companionship.

On their return to Manderley she struggles with the ghost of Rebecca whose beauty and talents were beloved of almost all. Mrs Danvers, the housekeeper, was particularly devoted to her and frightens the new Mrs de Winter, ensuring that she always feels inferior. In the final quarter of the novel a revelation gives the young bride hope of happiness only for it quickly to be torn away in the dramatic conclusion.

Despite only appearing in memory and imagination it is Rebecca that endures for the reader. The narrator becomes exasperating with her endless doubts and unwillingness to assert any authority. The secret that releases her from her jealousy and inferiority does not paint her in a positive light and she seems selfish in her obsession with being freed from Rebecca’s presence. In saying that, the reader has become so entangled in her narrative that you can’t help but hope events unfold as she wishes, making you question your morals.

The novel dissects the role of women and the expectations of femininity, something which it is said du Maurier struggled with herself. She was shy and did not enjoy entertaining and yet Rebecca also reflects aspects of her creator’s personality in her sexual liberation and aptitude at sailing. The fact she makes Rebecca the stronger, more memorable character may hint at where she felt her true self lay.

This atmospheric novel examines the complex jealousy of a second wife, a topic not often discussed in fiction. We feel so vividly the presence of Rebecca as we walk in the footsteps of the paranoid narrator. Du Maurier successfully created a sense of place so believable we feel as though we have wandered its corridors and explored the gardens. The claustrophobia felt by the narrator is palpable and makes for a disturbing read. 

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The Professor, Charlotte Brontë

Charlotte’s much-rejected first novel follows our protagonist and narrator William Crimsworth from a difficult life in northern England to Brussels where he gains a teaching post in a boys’ school. He is full of optimism and innocence as he embarks on his new life, deriding the natives at every turn. In addition to his work at Monsieur Pelet’s school he also teaches lessons at a nearby girls’ school run by Mademoiselle Reuter. He is attracted to the young directress and a flirtatious power struggle ensues. Her deceitful nature is revealed to him and his affection moves toward Frances Henri, an unassuming seamstress who takes English classes with him.

Of all of Brontë’s novels this seems to be the one critics find the hardest to separate from biography. Written on her return from Brussels in the throes of painful unrequited love she seems to choose a male narrator to give more freedom, and also perhaps to rewrite reality into a fantasy with an ending she so longed for.

The distaste for the Belgians is a reflection of sentiments expressed in a letter from Brontë to her friend Ellen Nussey on first arriving in Brussels. This may have been enhanced by their Catholicism, a not uncommon target for derision at the time but felt keenly by Brontë, presumably in part because of her Anglican upbringing. The fact Mademoiselle Reuter, dishonest and seductive, is Catholic and Frances Henri, loyal and diligent, is Protestant is likely no coincidence.

Frances is also intriguing for her sense of nationalism. Born to Anglo-Swiss parents she has a deep love for England, although she has never been. Comparatively, Hunsden, a friend of Crimsworth’s from England has no sense of national loyalty and sees himself as a ‘citizen of the world’. These themes feel very relevant in today’s Brexit obsessed atmosphere.

Regardless of its reputation as Brontë’s weakest novel, I thoroughly enjoyed The Professor. Crimsworth is not always a particularly likable character but that is no flaw in creation. His prejudicial feelings and odd behaviour towards those who impress him make him believable as a young man trying to find his way in the world. We see him mature and achieve what Brontë set out in her preface as an aim – to have the characters make their wealth from hard work, not by a lucky chance. As in other of her works, she sets out to write about ordinary people living unextraordinary lives, which is not to say boring. The ending was a little neat for my tastes, but I am now a great advocate of recovering this novel from its critics.