The Pirate Queen, Ariel Lawhon

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

In this exhilarating new historical fiction Lawhon takes us through Grace O’Malley’s/Grainné Ní Mháille’s eventful life in a non-linear narrative showing her at different stages of life - Mistress, Mother, and Matriarch. Grace is drawn to the sea from a young age and longs to spend her days sailing, seeing other countries, and generally ignoring gender expectations. Unfortunately, living in the sixteenth century, she cannot be her father’s official heir, and is expected to marry strategically. The shifting narrative variously gives us glimpses into her future or shows us how she got to the place we meet her. She is a young girl learning to fight with a knife, a mother with a husband she hates, and a prisoner of her lifetime enemy, Richard Bingham. We can see from the start that her life will not be calm or peaceful.

Grace is an impressive, commanding figure, the de facto leader of the clan, but we do see a softer side of her at times. Her longterm love of Richard Bourke, reciprocated strongly, leads to some of the most touching passages in the novel. Having glimpses into her future also allows us to know when certain things are not going to work out for her, and it’s interesting to see how all the pieces fall into place. Unfortunately, her first marriage is not a happy one. Her husband is unkind and violent and we see how little power she has when those around her refuse to concede to her. The experience makes her wary and determined never to find herself in such a position again. We see time and again throughout that she is more than able to hold her own, and by her teenage years has developed skills in physically protecting herself. 

With a character such as Grace it would be easy for her to become unrelatable, untouchable and distant, but Lawhon keeps her rooted in family, relationships, frustrations, and hopes, making her feel very real and believable. Her parents are kind and affectionate, but make decisions she regrets. She also feels regret at some of the decisions she has been forced to make in the raising of her own children. Her relationship with her half-brother Donal is a close one and we see them grow together. Richard is shown to be there for her from a young age, stepping in to protect her when he can. Quietly attempting to make her life easier without expecting much in return. 

Of course, there is also much swashbuckling action. Ships are boarded, captains killed, and lands change hands at sword point. The politics of Ireland, England, and Spain are examined. A complex story is woven skilfully so you don’t feel lost even if you go in with no prior knowledge. Lawhon maintains a strong mix of action, violence, and more human stories. There are scenes depicting attempted sexual assault, and references to attacks, as is common in historical fiction, but Lawhon does not dwell unnecessarily. We are aware of the danger to women in this period without gratuitous descriptions. A thoroughly enjoyable book about a historical figure I knew nothing about before reading it, but who I came to care for throughout.

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The Unconsoled, Kazuo Ishiguro

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Mr Ryder arrives in an unspecified European city, one in which the inhabitants are despairing. Mr Brodsky, the local star conductor, has fallen to alcoholism and Mr Christoff, a once popular cellist, has fallen out of favour. They feel a desperation that culture is crumbling around them and that Ryder’s presence and imminent performance will help rectify this. The novel proceeds to take us through Ryder’s time in the city, pulled from one obligation to another, aware that his schedule is very full but unsure of what exactly it entails. The novel starts slowly and seems to shift reality. He goes to meet people he doesn’t know only for them to seemingly be his intimates. He is not from this city but continually bumps into people from his past with unusual regularity. Reality is never quite what it seems. He doesn’t know his way around, unable to find his way to apartments he should be familiar with, and distance and time bend, making him travel long distances only to find himself just around the corner from the hotel in which he is staying. This can be quite disorienting but seems to settle somewhat as the novel progresses, or perhaps you merely become accustomed to the unruliness of reality.

Ryder is an intriguing character. We hear from others that he is an unpleasant, demanding man, but for the most part we don’t see him acting as such, although there are glimmers, and toward the end they become more frequent. He will be within earshot of people planning unfortunate events for him and insulting his personality and yet appears not to hear or care. Every time he tries to rest he is interrupted and sent on another errand, and while he attempts to keep his obligations he is so easily swayed into a new task that he is constantly letting people down. As the performance edges closer he becomes increasingly anxious that he hasn’t had time to practice, and that he hasn’t even settled on which piece he will play. His attempts to reclaim his time are largely unsuccessful as the climax of other character’s stories come to a head and Ryder is always at least partially involved.

Ishiguro does a good job of drawing the characters and their situations in such a way that you feel for them despite only quite brief passages devoted to them. Some characters are fleeting, others repeating. Mr Brodsky is a constant throughout, as is Mr Hoffman, the manager of the hotel. In the final fifth or so we see the realities of their lives unfold, often learning of tragic backstories while they scramble to find a way to make their present and future more satisfying. Relationships are fraught, well worn lies are confronted, and we see how expectations build up unfairly on younger members of families. There are some truly upsetting passages as well as some farce, creating a strange mix of humour and emotion. 

There are many examples of bad parenting in this novel. We learn early on that the friendly hotel porter Gustav continues to have a relationship with his daughter Sophie but that he let her down emotionally while she was young and she hasn’t said a word to him since. Ryder, in his sometimes role as father/guardian of Sophie’s son Boris, upsets her by similarly sitting by while Boris suffers. The Hoffmans treat their son Stephan with surface level politeness and feigned support, while completely dismissing his dreams and abilities. Ryder’s own parents, who he has been so eager to ensure are well looked after, don’t show up for him time and again. There are reflections of situations in different characters leading some to suggest they are versions of Ryder at different stages of his life.

In all a very curious novel. It’s a book that demands your attention and reflection but manages to be very readable nonetheless. Many have described it as like reading a long anxiety dream, and although I completely understand this interpretation, I didn’t feel the anxiety transferring to me in the same way as it did in Ducks, Newburyport, for example. My first Ishiguro and I’m well aware it wasn’t an easy one to begin with, but I enjoyed the writing and would be interested to read more of his work.

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The Story of the Lost Child, Elena Ferrante (translated by Ann Goldstein)

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The compelling conclusion to Ferrante’s stunning Neapolitan Quartet picks up where the previous book left off. Elena and Nino are in the midst of an affair and on the cusp of taking steps that make their relationship their primary one, leaving their spouses and children. The first sections of the novel are focused on this relationship and its implications, for Elena specifically. Eventually she moves back to the old neighbourhood in Naples and Lila becomes ever more present in her life. When they both fall pregnant around the same time their bond grows closer as they face the challenges of being mothers again at a later stage in life. Will the devastating loss of the eponymous child shake them beyond repair, and will we finally learn the reason for Lila’s disappearance as laid out in the first novel by Elena looking back on their lives?

Elena’s relationship with Nino is frustrating. He is clearly treating her badly, trying to have the best of both worlds, and yet she can’t make herself leave him for good. It is only quite late in the novel where she sees him clearly for the first time. When their baby is young and Pietro continues to be present in her life, trying to support her, Nino is jealous and makes her send him away. Of course, when Pietro goes Nino does not step up. He is selfish and jealous, self serving, and makes life difficult for her. Thankfully, she has Lila nearby able to help with her daughters, although this can be something of a mixed blessing. 

Her sense of competition with Lila never leaves her. Elena can’t let go of the feeling that Lila is better than her, more intelligent, a better writer. Elena is the successful writer, respected in intellectual circles, and yet that lack of confidence lingers. Lila is no doubt impressive, in this novel running a computer business. She is inquisitive and able to learn seemingly anything if she puts her mind to it. But she is also quick to anger and has been limited by her circumstances. This is perhaps what Elena fears most, the rage that must have built up having such a bright mind but not being allowed to use it to its full potential. Indeed, people in the neighbourhood come to see Lila as an alternative power to the Solaras, such is her influence. 

The neighbourhood remains a dangerous place and Elena uses it to feed her work. When her reflections are published she questions whether she should have taken so much from life. She attempts to obscure the real characters she’s writing about but is unsuccessful, and the publishers relish the look behind the curtain into a very different kind of life, making it central to the publicity around her book in a way that feels uncomfortable. We see also the neighbourhood through the eyes of her daughters, who have experienced the comfort and safety of other parts of Italy. Despite the challenges and her financial position allowing her to move away, she stays. Her and Lila’s lives become closely intertwined as they live in close proximity and their children form tight bonds. 

There are many times throughout the book where family relationships are discussed, Lila and Elena's role as mothers, wives and partners. Their changing approaches to motherhood and the devastation of a lost child, how a moment can change something fundamental in you, is examined. We see how Elena’s daughters react to having absent fathers, and how the involvement of Pietro and Nino seriously impacts their sense of self worth and confidence. We also see how they interact with their elders. Elena’s relationship with her former mother-in-law and her own mother and how their ageing and ill health helps shift her perspective. They may have difficult, sometimes judgmental relationships, but they are important, and when they are gone forever it leaves a hole that can’t be filled. 

At the heart of the novel, as always, is Elena and Lila. We see them at times reflect on their childhood behaviour, and continue to be cruel to each other. Elena makes difficult decisions about what she can and can’t include in her writing, jeopardising relationships with those who have been in her life for as long as she can remember. Lila, in her generosity in looking after Elena’s children to allow her the freedom to pursue her career also seems to use it as a weapon. Theirs is a complex, fraught friendship but one that is ultimately essential to both of them. As they age throughout the novel we see both their insecurities and their sense of how they are perceived by others develop. We see everything through the lens of Elena’s insecurities, or is there some of Lila in the telling of the story? A heightened version of many friendships perhaps, but one that will be familiar to people who have tried to retain friendships throughout their lives. The inherent jealousy and judgment, love and struggle is perhaps something people try not to face in their own relationships but more often than not will be there to some degree.

This is a powerful conclusion to a breathtaking series of books. Ferrante brings to life the Italy of the 1970s and 80s and what it means to be a woman during this period of change. Times may have changed but working mothers are likely to see much of their lives in the struggle Elena has balancing her family and professional life. A broad host of characters are managed skilfully across the four novels, bringing them to a satisfying conclusion without ever feeling tokenistic or overly neat. Terrible things happen and we are told about them in such a matter of fact way it hits hard but takes a moment for the full realisation to kick in. A truly remarkable series, and the final instalment does not disappoint.

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Read my thoughts of the first three books:

My Brilliant Friend

The Story Of A New Name

Those Who Leave And Those Who Stay

The Echo Chamber, John Boyne

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Meet the Cleverleys, a privileged family with George being a popular presenter on the BBC, Beverly a bestselling author (with a ghost writer), and their three children Nelson, Elizabeth, and Achilles, figuring out how to be in the world. We are introduced to the two parents in learning about the affairs they have been engaged in, while convincing themselves they are loyal to their spouse. This doesn’t give us a great first impression of them. When we meet Nelson he is dressed in scrubs but unwilling to help a man in need of medical attention on the tube. Elizabeth and her boyfriend Wilkes are addicted to growing their social media following, doing charitable works but documenting everything online. Achilles has found a lucrative side hustle (he is still in school) of blackmailing potential sugar daddies, most of whom have far less money than his family. When George trips up in a tweet about a transgender receptionist his decades of carefully curating a liberal persona look to be at risk. 

All of the characters in this book are fairly terrible, perhaps with the exception of Nelson, who craves love and lacks confidence. Even the side characters are caricaturish and constantly make bad decisions. I’m not against an unlikeable character but when the entire novel is populated exclusively by unsympathetic, selfish, morally dubious characters it does become difficult to really enjoy what you’re reading. Boyne counters this somewhat with humour, and although this is obviously meant as satire it is so overblown that it loses its power. I was expecting to be challenged by the ills of social media, a topic I’m very open to, but I didn’t leave the book with any insights or really a feeling that the focus was actually on social media. Yes, there are some characters who have a deeply unhealthy relationship with their phones, and cancel culture is examined, but in such a belittling way, where every player is demeaned you’re not left with a strong feeling on where your sympathy is meant to lie. George is the ‘victim’ of cancel culture but he suffers no real consequences. The main message of the book seems to be that if you’re wealthy and powerful you can do what you want. Boyne’s own troubles with social media criticism may be fuelling some of his disdain for keyboard warriors. Elizabeth has two Twitter accounts, her personal one, and a secret one in which she attacks everyone and anyone without distinction. Indeed, she also sends vile messages to her friends and family, and it is her response that makes George’s tweet go viral. I don’t think many of us really believe pile-ons are a good thing, but Boyne’s disdain for ‘woke’ and anyone who questions the old order feels very dismissive. This is especially reinforced because we repeatedly see those pretending to be wounded that their liberalism is being questioned espousing offensive views outside of the public eye. His attacks on incidental characters also feel unnecessarily mean.

Boyne attempts to link in social media further by using flashbacks to happier times for the Cleverleys, ending with a note on which social media platform was being launched at the time, as though this is linked to the paths their lives take, except he doesn’t demonstrate this. Indeed, it is only really Twitter and some Instagram that is used to any great effect throughout the novel, so the creation of Facebook or TikTok etc is even more irrelevant. Of course it’s all tied, but there is no demonstration that the root cause of the family’s shortcomings is social media or smart phones. It seems more to be their sense of self-importance and the knowledge that their positions give them free reign to do as they please. Even the epilogue which is presumably meant to show how much happier life is away from phones doesn’t really show anything more than that there are no real consequences for them for their bad behaviour.

The characters are all seemingly interlinked, often through Pylyp, former Strictly Come Dancing partner to Beverly, the man she’s having an affair with, as has most of her family. The fact some of them would have been underage at the time is completely swept aside, as is Elizabeth’s passing comment about the unhealthy sexual relationships she’s been in in the past. Every time a new character is introduced you wonder how they will fit into this broader story. Initially this was quite interesting, it did become a little tiresome after a while, and then toward the end there is one final link in the chain that you don’t see coming. Pylyp also brings in a character which for many may be their favourite - the tortoise Ustym Karmaliuk. When he goes back to Ukraine to visit family he leaves the tortoise with Beverly, with strict instructions on how to care for him. Considering her lack of care for her children and work, you can imagine how well this goes. 

At times I did enjoy this book and raced through it. The characters and the way they act can feel so outrageous at times that it is funny, and I was interested to find out what would happen next. Some of the connections between characters were intriguing and it was interesting to see how they played out. It lost me a bit toward the end and I think it was probably because literally every character that was introduced, whether for a scene or for the duration were just not nice people, and often for seemingly no reason. We can see that the Cleverley children have been somewhat neglected by their parents and have had to find their own way through the challenges of the teenage years and young adulthood. It is not touched on often but in passing we are told that Nelson has never felt safe and loved, that Elizabeth has experienced difficulties in relationships, and has turned to social media for validation and a sense of being. George and Beverly are openly rude about people they don’t like, and make no secret of which of their children they like best and what they think their shortcomings are. They want their children to move out but don’t stop to consider that perhaps they haven’t prepared them with the skills they need to succeed in the world. There are a lot of potentially interesting avenues this book could have gone down but Boyne chooses not to. The satire is too widely spread to have much of an impact and the characters feel like shallow stereotypes so you’re not really invested. Again, for me, Nelson was the exception. If you’re new to Boyne I would recommend trying one of his other books.

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The Enchanted April, Elizabeth Von Arnim

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When Mrs Wilkins sees an advert for a castle to rent in Italy for ‘those who appreciate wistaria and sunshine’ she is overtaken by an unexpected desire to take up the property and escape from her dreary life for a month. She sees another woman, Mrs Arbuthnot, notice the advert and senses in her the same longing. Completely out of character for them both they decide to enquire, and on finding the rent rather steep, seek two more women to share the cost. Before they know it they are arriving in Italy and acquainting themselves with the castle which is to be their home for the month of April. Mrs Fisher and Lady Caroline arrive separately to Wilkins and Arbuthnot and there is an ongoing silent battle over who should be in the role of host. Lady Caroline wants to be left alone, worn out by London society and the attention her good looks bring. Mrs Fisher doesn’t appear to have any great aspirations for the holiday but puts herself in the role of ensuring decorum is maintained. She finds Mrs Wilkins entirely too excitable and informal.

There is not much in the way of plot in this novel, it is merely a gentle meditation on the lives of women in the 1920s, on marriage and expectation, on finding your own desires. As the novel progresses we see each woman come to realisations about themselves. Mrs Wilkins is the most immediately and obviously changed, feeling the weight and drudgery of life float away. She spends her days on long walks, picnicking by herself in the landscape around the castle. Her heart is so lightened by the experience that she invites her husband to stay with them. Lady Caroline fears that the other women will want to be her friend and ruin her peace, but she soon finds that actually she wishes Mrs Wilkins would bother her more. She spends her days thinking and realises that she has been mean and shallow. Throughout she is frustrated by the fact that when she tries to be unpleasant to others they don’t realise - her voice is so sweet and her looks so pretty that they are merely enchanted. We come to see in Mrs Arbuthnot a longing to be important to another person. Before she left London we saw that her marriage was not a happy one. Her husband makes money in ways she doesn’t approve of and marriage has made her pious and judgmental. When her husband arrives he is reminded of who she was before they were married, a similar experience to that of Mr and Mrs Wilkins, and you feel sad for them that they have spent so long being unhappy in their marriages.

Our first impressions of Mrs Arbuthnot and Wilkins are positive. Mrs Wilkins seems fairly innocent in her enthusiasm and looks forward to preparing the castle for the other two women, wanting to see their pleasure when they arrive. Lady Caroline and Mrs Fisher show no such signs of conviviality, taking the best rooms for themselves and moving unwanted furniture into the rooms Mrs Wilkins and Arbuthnot will inhabit. Certainly I felt great affection for Mrs Wilkins, and Mrs Fisher’s dislike of her, ignoring her as much as possible, feels unkind. The castle does eventually work its magic on them all however, and they see the good in each other that perhaps they couldn’t at the beginning. Mrs Fisher generally approves of Mrs Arbuthnot, but unaware that she sees herself as the host, is confused by her constant response to being offered tea or food being to offer it back. This is the kind of gentle humour littered throughout.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. There were characters that you related to from the start, others that were harder around the edges. There was a real innocence to Mrs Wilkins and Arbuthnot planning the trip, the descriptions likening their feelings to that of having been with a lover. These are women who have become trapped by their domestic lives, and whose courage to do something different frees them from those invisible shackles, allowing them to discover themselves once more.

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None Of This Is True, Lisa Jewell

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When Josie Fair and Alix Summers both decide to celebrate their birthdays in the same pub, their chance encounter will change both their lives forever. Alix is a successful podcaster, interviewing inspiring women. Josie works quite happily in a sewing repair shop. She begins listening to Alix’s podcast after their meeting and decides that she should be the next guest, not as an already successful woman, but as someone on the brink of changing their life. As their interviews develop we learn more about Josie’s life - the husband she met in her teens (when he was in his forties), the troubles with her children when they were young, and the ongoing struggles with them. One of her daughters appears to be estranged, the other doesn’t leave her bedroom and will only eat baby food. Josie seems to want to be Alix, jealous of her beautiful home and success. Alix and her husband Nathan become increasingly uncomfortable with her presence in their home but she makes it difficult for them to be free of her. How far will she go to hold on to the illusion of closeness between them?

From the first time they meet the contrast between Josie and Alix is stark. Josie is celebrating her birthday with her husband, with whom she seems to have little to say. Alix is surrounded by friends and family and enjoys a livelier celebration. When we see Josie and her husband Walter at home they seem unhappy together. Silently occupying the same house but not really living their lives together. She expresses a desire to change her life, a feeling that life has just kind of happened to her but now it’s time for her to take control. Alix lives a life of comfort, with a husband who allows her to spend his money without question. It’s not perfect, however, Nathan has recently begun going on all night benders, returning late the next day, and she questions whether she should stay with him. Josie enjoys having a shared hardship, but also feels let down that Alix, a woman she admires so much, puts up with being treated badly. 

The story that emerges from their podcast interviews is a dark one. We learn of how Walter effectively groomed Josie, of how he goes into their daughter’s bedroom each night. Josie suspects he is abusing her but does nothing about it. Repeatedly we see her in situations where she opts to be an observer rather than actively participating or protecting those in her care. The things she admit to Alix make her look bad as well as many members of her family, but when Alix meets Josie’s mother and others who have known Josie in the past she begins to get a sense that perhaps Josie isn’t entirely telling the truth. Throughout the novel are short interludes of interviews from a Netflix documentary made about Alix and Josie in which others confirm that Josie is not all that she seems and that although she may paint herself as the victim she isn’t perceived as such by others. Of course, the title of the book suggests we should be wary of believing everything we’re being told, but some of her claims are hard to believe someone would make up.

This is an interesting read which kept me up reading just another chapter. It’s dark and twisty and somewhat uncomfortable to read at times as a result. The way we are drip fed information and then given different perspectives by characters that Josie has conditioned us not to believe is an interesting technique. We don’t see much of Walter’s perspective, just through Josie’s eyes, and Nathan too we mostly see through a veil of other people’s opinions. Toward the end we begin to understand a little more of the truth, although at the book club discussion I learnt that some editions have a bonus chapter which makes you reassess how you think about the characters by the end. A book in which nothing is ever quite as it seems and everyone seems to have an agenda. A gripping read but not one that left a lasting impression.

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Bruges-La-Morte, Georges Rodenbach

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Hugues Viane lost his wife five years ago and moved to Bruges, a city he considered decaying and melancholy, in order to fully indulge his grief, seeing his deceased wife reflected around the city. He lives alone with only the company of his servant Barbe. One evening, having been to Church to reflect on his loss, he encounters a woman who he believes resembles his wife almost exactly. What follows is an unsettling affair in which he tries to turn her into the woman he loved while increasingly realising that it is an illusion. He never speaks to Jane, his new beau, about his former love and she is unaware that his obsession with her is based on her resemblance. Putting her up in a home separate from his, keeping their relationship a secret, this is not a healthy situation. When they fall out he has to consider whether he has fallen for Jane for herself or if it is merely the illusion of his former wife that sustains them. Her eventual demand to come to his home leads to the climax of the book. 

Jane as a character is not particularly developed. We see her through Hugues’ eyes, and it is only approaching the climax of the novel that we begin to see more of her mindset. Tired of his strange behaviour she has begun to consider whether it is worth continuing the relationship merely to benefit financially - he is older than her and she suspects it would not be too long before she could inherit. For the most part you feel quite sorry for her but her behaviour in his home becomes quite uncomfortable, although we are left once more feeling that she is a victim of Hugues’ obsession.

Hugues begins by being quite a sympathetic character. Yes, he seem to indulge in his grief, but his emotions are painful and you feel for him. However, his behaviour toward Jane is frequently unacceptable and unhealthy. The power balance between them is uneven, although she does possess power in the chance resemblance to his wife - he would not want to lose her. This is not a love story however, it is one of dangerous obsession and the fetishisation of the dead. A sense of melancholy hangs over the whole book and Rodenbach works hard to bring the city itself into the mood of the book. In the original he published photographs alongside the text, and this has been replicated with more recent photographs in the current edition. These depict empty streets and canals, offering a somewhat haunting sensation very different to the experience of a modern visitor to the city. Locals are said to have been unhappy with the novel when it was originally published, depicting their city as a place of death and decay when they were attempting to revive it as a place of industry. 

An interesting book that modern readers may find somewhat overwritten. The introductory essay by Alan Hollinghurst and essay ‘The Death Throes of Towns’ give us an insight in Rodenbach’s fascination with Bruges and his perspective on it as a city of faded glory. A strange, disturbing novel which evokes a very particular time and mindset. 

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The Vanishing Cherry Blossom Bookshop, Takuya Asakura (translated by Yuka Maeno)

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The Cherry Blossom Bookshop only appears during the fleeting cherry blossom season, and to access it you have to be reading the exact same passage in the same book as the owner, Sakura, at the exact same time. You might think this would make it near impossible for anyone to ever get through, but throughout the book we meet four characters whose time at the shop gives them a chance to gain new insight and move on from past hurt. In the final visitor’s story we also learn a bit more about the origin of the shop and its inhabitants. 

Sakura and her calico cat Kobako tend the shop and offer a safe space for their visitors. Many of the stories we see unfold involve grief and regrets. In the first, we meet a woman whose mother has recently died, whose career seems to be on the brink of crumbling, and whose brother hasn’t been around to share the burden. The shop allows her a chance to re-evaluate the actions of her mother and reflect on what it meant for her. Next, we meet Shingo, an older man who is suffering from dementia. He misses his departed wife terribly - can the shop allow him a chance to see her once more, and to reconnect with the family he has? Twins Shiho and Kaho find themselves needing to revisit a significant moment from their young adult lives, a moment which has haunted them both and which they wish they could have spoken about freely. Finally, we meet Kozue, whose mother has disappeared and whose father has become stuck, not wanting to admit that she is gone. 

This book gives the impression of being a cosy read, but do not be fooled into thinking it will be all feel-good. As mentioned above, each character is going through a difficult time in one way or another, and the sadness does come out. Ultimately, they find comfort or release in the bookshop so it does not feel like a melancholy book, but it is certainly not cheerful escapism. The final sections become quite philosophical and meta which I quite enjoyed. I also enjoyed the translator’s note at the end which explained a bit about the Japanese language and its intricacies that the average English-language reader wouldn’t know, allowing us to better understand some of the specifics of the book.

This was my first foray into the cosy Japanese magical realism novels that have been proliferating in bookshops over recent years. It was a thoughtful read and quite enjoyable, but the books in it felt incidental more than integral - they are vehicles for the story. For some of the characters they feel more embedded in their stories, but this wasn’t a love letter to books in the way some bookshop based books are. Enjoyable, interesting, and with a beautiful cover, this makes a nice read for Spring.

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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.

Pick up a copy:

Waterstones

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.