When one of my favourite authors writes a new book I always experience a confusing mix of emotions. Excitement and anticipation mix with fear; will I love it as much as I love their last book? I don’t want to be disappointed. Since there’s a new Liz Gilbert out this year I thought I’d share my review of her last novel, City of Girls. Like a lot of readers my first encounter with Gilbert’s writing was Eat, Pray, Love; a book that was nothing short of a cultural phenomenon, not to mention the following hit film. For me, it was her novel The Signature of All Things that caught the imagination. The combination of a sparky and intelligent heroine, the feminist theme and the historical detail came together in a beautifully woven story. So as the publication date approached for this new novel I desperately wanted it to live up to her first.
I shouldn’t have worried. City of Girls is a joyous, exhilarating riot of a book. Our narrator, Vivian, plunges us into 1940s Manhattan where she is sent by her parents after expulsion from Vassar. There she is placed in the care of her Aunt Peg who runs the, slightly ramshackle, Lily Theatre. I was suddenly immersed in the bohemian world of theatre people where Vivian soon finds her niche. At Vassar she made friends by creating outfits for the other girls on her trusty sewing machine. So, in her new rooms above the theatre she is soon surrounded by showgirls wanting costumes. I have an interest in fashion and sewing, so I really enjoyed the descriptions of Vivian’s creations, made on a shoestring with a lot of help from Lowtsky’s vintage clothing store downtown. Yet not everything is as it seems on the surface. Is her friendship with showgirl Celia as mutual as it appears? What influence does the matronly and doom laden Olive have over Aunt Peg? Where is Uncle Billy, whose rooms Vivian has been using since her arrival?
Some of these questions are answered during the production of the brand new play City of Girls. Aunt Peg’s friend Edna Parker Watson comes to stay after losing her London home during the Blitz. Edna is a talented theatre actress who is petite, beautiful and impeccably dressed. She arrives at the Lily with her huge wardrobe and her very famous and much younger husband, Arthur. Every member of the theatre company does their very best to get this musical off the ground and make it a success. Vivian works hard on her costume designs, but also finds herself becoming an unofficial PA and friend to Edna. Determined to put on the best show they can to turn the Lily Theatre’s fortunes around, Aunt Peg agrees to audition for new actors. When Vivian meets Anthony, the new leading man, she falls in love for the very first time. But alongside the awakening of first love, Vivian will also have her eyes opened to how cruel showbiz and the wider world can be. Several revelations teach her that not everyone can be trusted, the most unexpected people can come to your aid, and Vivian realises she has been walking around with her eyes closed. As the Second World War moves ever closer to their shores Vivian is left with a reckoning of her own. Does she want the respectable, quiet life her family expects or does she want to make her own way in a city and a career that is anything but quiet?
You will fall in love with Vivian as she takes you into her past and candidly shares her exploits in 1940s NYC. She takes you from theatre, to nightclub to a dingy apartment in Hell’s Kitchen where she conducts her first love affair. She holds nothing back and I felt her delight at encountering the bohemian characters of the theatre, her passion and ingenuity for costume work and her discovery of a city laid out before her like a playground. She allows us to experience her growing up with every triumph and mistake she makes along the way. Such an engaging central character is well matched with other beautifully drawn female characters from the dowdy killjoy Olive who has surprising depths, the enigmatic Edna Parker Watson, the brisk and sometimes foolhardy Aunt Peg to the glamorous showgirl Celia who leads our narrator into a world of nightclubs, make-up and disposable men. The women in this novel are strong, surprising and all teach Vivian something about the kind of woman she wants to be. The novel emphasises the importance of strong female role models or mentors in both our personal and working life. I found myself torn between bingeing on this book or savouring it slowly: I wanted to know what happened next but I didn’t want my adventures with Vivian to come to an end.
Meet the Author
Elizabeth Gilbert is an award-winning writer of both fiction and non-fiction. Her short story collection Pilgrims was a finalist for the PEN/Hemingway award, and her novel Stern Men was a New York Times notable book. In 2002, she published The Last American Man, which was a finalist for both the National Book Award and the National Book Critics’ Circle Award. She is best known for her 2006 memoir Eat, Pray, Love, which was published in over thirty languages and sold more than seven million copies worldwide. The film, released in 2010, stars Julia Roberts and Javier Bardem. Committed: A Sceptic Makes Peace with Marriage, a follow-up to Eat, Pray, Love, was published in 2010. Elizabeth Gilbert lives in New Jersey, USA.
Last weekend was the first this year when I’ve sensed the merest whiff of spring, south easterly winds bringing a warmer feel when I ventured outside and a few bulbs sprouting in the sunshine. There’s still a little way to go though, so I thought I’d brighten up the dregs of winter with books that have a strong nature theme. Whether it’s a beautifully conjured sense of place, an outdoor challenge, the benefits of creating a garden or a correlation between nature and character, all of these have outdoor vibes. I was also inspired by my enjoyment of Eowyn Ivey’s new novel Black Woods, Blue Sky where our main characters inhabit the Alaskan wilderness.
On a personal front, I now know I have a narrowed spinal canal as well as arthritis throughout my spine. I’m a little stir crazy waiting for the next steps, so my longing for the outdoors is probably stronger than it’s been in a while. Thanks to my dad I now have a little custom made bench thats directly outside the kitchen door where I can sit with a brew in the morning and feel the sun. But I long to smell the forest, with pines swaying in the breeze and the sharp scent of their needles as I crunch them underfoot. Or the smell of the sea air and the salty spray on my cheeks. Each test and appointment gets me closer to a solution and hopefully, a long term one rather than a quick fix. If you too are longing for some outdoorsy book inspiration, look no further.
If I’m honest the Little House on the Prairie books are probably where I started to love reading about living in wild places. I think it’s also where I got my ability to make a home wherever I ended up. When we were small we moved wherever my Dad had work, so usually on farms or land drainage pumping stations – an absolute must in the flatlands of Lincolnshire! So every house was a ‘tied’ cottage and never belonged to us, although my Mum went out of her way to make every place a home. We both love these books, although of course we understand more about pioneer families now. Slowly moving further out to wilder areas, claiming land that until then had been Native American territory. Some of the language and attitudes towards Native Americans in later novels certainly reflect the attitudes of the time. This first book always stays with me, not necessarily because of the plot but because of the lengthy description of what life and nature was like. I remember a party when families came together to harvest maple syrup and the candy the girls would make out of syrup and snow.
I loved the harvesting, possibly because it was a part of our lives too, since we lived on a fruit farm for a few years so mum was always making pies, crumbles and jams. I must admit having my own pantry was a life goal, it had me gathering and freezing as well as making chutneys and plum brandy (absolutely lethal). There’s a huge satisfaction in growing your own and filling the pantry with enough preserves and chutneys to last till next harvest. The author captures how she felt and you always know that you’re experiencing life through the eyes of a small child. There are scary moments here – such as a big cat lurking overhead in the woods or bears stumbling into their homestead, but somehow the main feeling you come away with is how cozy and safe she was made to feel by her parents. I’m sure the reality for the adults was a lot harder. What I love is how their lives change through the seasons because they’re working with nature whether it’s the sharp cold of winter or the first warm spring day.
When I was about nine years old we spent some time living in Leicestershire and one of our regular family outings was to the Rutland Water reservoir. In 1975, the villages of Nether and Middle Hambleton were flooded to provide water for growing cities in the East Midlands. All that remains of the village is an old chapel that juts out into the water. We lived nearby in the late 1970’s to the early 1980’s so the reservoir was quite new with none of the facilities it now has, including a hotel, water sports centre and a nature reserve. I used to find it so eerie when I imagined a whole village underneath the water. This book gave me some insight into the experience as well as capturing the beauty and wildness of the Lake District. Set in 1936, the Lightburn family have always lived in a remote dale in the old, northern county of Westmorland. It’s a rural community where the family have been working in the harsh hill-farming tradition – largely unchanged by modern life. When a man from Manchester arrives, as spokesman for a vast industrial project, that will devastate the landscape and the local community. Mardale will be flooded, creating a new reservoir, supplying water to the Midlands’ growing cities. The waterworks’ representative is Jack Liggett who creates more problems by having an affair with local woman, Janet Lightburn. They each represent their respective viewpoints; Jack is all growth and progress, with man making his mark on the landscape, whereas Janet is more aligned with nature and her family’s way of life, now centuries behind. She takes a final, desperate and ultimately tragic attempt to restore the valley to what it has always been.
This book gave me an insight into how my grandparent’s lived, working on the land. The author creates an authentic sense of both time and place, in area that has been out of touch with progress for decades. It’s not just a destruction of a place, it’s a destruction of a whole community and tradition. It takes us away from the modern day touristy Lake District we all know, to when it was wilder and remote. When people wrestled their living from the landscape, working alongside nature and it’s changing seasons at a slower pace. The shock is seismic for those who now have to catch up with modern thinking and ways of earning a living. This is a beautifully written elegy for a time and place that no longer exists.
“Oh, my dear, relations are like drugs, – useful sometimes, and even pleasant, if taken in small quantities and seldom, but dreadfully pernicious on the whole, and the truly wise avoid them”.
This beautiful book cover always makes me smile. Most readers probably know this author’s other novel The Enchanted April, but this is such a gentle, witty and uplifting story. In a semi-autobiographical diary Elizabeth looks for respite from her husband, a Prussian aristocrat, and their children who she refers to by the month they were born. She came from a highly-educated and slightly bohemian family in England and married at the age of 25. Sadly they were mismatched, her husband was rather somber and dedicated to his duty of farming the estate and keeping it profitable. She comes across as bright and happy by nature, as well as sensitive. This was her first novel, written after seven years of marriage and it really is a literary poem to flowers, gardens, solitude and finding something that feeds your soul. I share her enthusiasm for all things that blossom, often dragging my other half into the garden because something has flowered. She has so much enthusiasm she sweeps you up and takes you with her. This was clearly the place she could relax and be herself. It was written in the late Victorian period so expect a bit of snobbery and a lack of self-awareness. If this doesn’t make you want to pick up a trowel or visit a garden I don’t know what will.
I love Mary Webb, with her novel Precious Bane being one of my all-time favourite books. They are rural based and immerse the reader into nature and a farming way of life, but Gone to Earth’s heroine is so bound to the landscape and particularly it’s wildlife.
Hazel has a pet fox and looks after other wounded or sick wild animals. She wants no more from life than this; to be herself, living in the remote Shropshire hills with her equally unnconventional father. Unfortunately for her, she is young and beautiful. Two men fall in love with Hazel – the good and honourable young church minister and a dissolute squire. She is driven to desperation by their competing claims on her and the pressures of conventional life. Hazel is no more equipped to be a squire’s wife than she is to marry a vicar. Both have very specific roles and duties, requiring her to be social and dressed appropriately. It would take her away from everything she loves and turn her into a caged bird or snared rabbit. She feels hounded, so much so that she’s forced to find a harrowing way of escape. This was Mary Webb’s second book, written in 1917 and set in the hills of Shropshire. It is a dark and difficult story that’s very intelligent and moving. It is Hazel’s connection to nature that’s so beautiful, it’s so clear that this is her place and purpose in life. Gone to Earth became a film in 1950, starring Jennifer Jones as Hazel.
Chrissie Gillies comes from the last ever community to live on the beautiful, isolated Scottish island of St Kilda. Evacuated in 1930, she will never forget her life there, nor the man she loved and lost who visited one fateful summer a few years before. Fred Lawson has been captured, beaten and imprisoned in Nazi-controlled France. Making a desperate escape across occupied territory, one thought sustains him: find Chrissie, the woman he should never have left behind on that desolate, glorious isle. On the face of it, if you read the above blurb you might expect nothing more than a love story. However, even WW2 isn’t the main focus or even the part of the book I remember more than anything. It was the way the author wrote about the islands, these jagged and raw lumps of rock isolated in the ocean. They have no protection against the wind or the sheer power of the Atlantic. Then there are the birds that share the islands and provide the resident’s main source of food. Islanders must climb down the vertical cliff face to reach the birds and they don’t even taste good, considering their only diet is fish. It is bleak, so bleak that in real life the islanders eventually had to abandon the islands for the mainland. St Kilda is a World Heritage Site even now and is home to a tenth of Britain’s seabird population. I was totally immersed in this wild place and the people who scratched a living from it’s rocky and inhospitable outcrops.
Artist, Hassie Days, and her sister, Margot, buy a run down Jacobean house in Hope Wenlock on the Welsh Marches. While Margot continues her London life in high finance, Hassie is left alone to work the large, long-neglected garden. She is befriended by eccentric, sharp-tongued, Miss Foot, who recommends, Murat, an Albanian migrant, made to feel out of place among the locals, to help Hassie in the garden. As she works the garden in Murat’s peaceful company, Hassie ruminates on her past life: the sibling rivalry that tainted her childhood and the love affair that left her with painful, unanswered questions.
As she begins to explore the history of the house and the mysterious nearby wood, old hurts begin to fade as she experiences the healing power of nature and discovers other worlds. This is such a gentle read, it’s quiet and contemplative but ultimately joyful. This is for people who really understand how healing it is to be in the open air and being connected to the seasons.
At twenty-six, Cheryl Strayed thought she had lost everything. In the wake of her mother’s rapid death from cancer, her family disbanded and her marriage crumbled. With nothing to lose, she made the most impulsive decision of her life: to walk eleven-hundred miles of the west coast of America and to do it alone. She had no experience of long-distance hiking and the journey was nothing more than a line on a map. But it held a promise – a promise of piecing together a life that lay shattered at her feet… This read is a real journey that ultimately saves a life. It’s beautifully written, honest and raw. The author pits herself against the elements on the Pacific Coast Trail because she believes it will help her process everything that’s happened. She will be confronted with her self, every day, and forced to wrestle with her demons. She’s hoping that the walk will be a line, between her old ways of behaving and she will come out the other side with something to build from. She’s out in the open every day, whatever the weather and is reduced to her most essential self. I loved how she starts to notice the flora and fauna around her. It’s amazing to see how much the trail gets into her brain and ultimately changes her outlook.
It is summer in the Appalachian mountains and love, desire and attraction are in the air. Nature, too, it seems, is not immune. From her outpost in an isolated mountain cabin, Deanna Wolfe, a reclusive wildlife biologist, watches a den of coyotes that have recently migrated into the region. She is caught off guard by a young hunter who invades her most private spaces and interrupts her self-assured, solitary life. On a farm several miles down the mountain, Lusa Maluf Landowski, a bookish city girl turned farmer’s wife, finds herself marooned in a strange place where she must declare or lose her attachment to the land that has become her own. And a few more miles down the road, a pair of elderly feuding neighbours tend their respective farms and wrangle about God, pesticides, and the possibilities of a future neither of them expected. Over the course of one humid summer, these characters find their connections of love to one another and to the surrounding nature with which they share a place. I thought the author beautifully debates so many contentious issues around farming and nature: how much harm comes to wildlife when arable farming; the merits of vegetarianism and veganism, and whether we can be ethical meat eaters; the difficulties of cultivating crops and dealing with diseases in trees; studying animals without disturbing or changing them. It’s about how we humans interact with nature, the changing seasons and how fertile nature continues to be.
This is the story of The Greatest Funambulist Who Ever Lived…
Born into a post-war circus family, our nameless star was unwanted and forgotten, abandoned in the shadows of the big top. Until the bright light of Serendipity Wilson threw her into focus.
Now an adult, haunted by an incident in which a child was lost from the circus, our narrator, a tightrope artiste, weaves together her spellbinding tales of circus legends, earthy magic and folklore, all in the hope of finding the child… But will her story be enough to bring the pair together again?
I’ve recently read Nydia’s incredible new novel Sycorax, in fact today is her publication day. So I thought it might be time to revisit her debut novel, also a real favourite of mine.
Sometimes all you can say when you finish a book is ‘Wow’. When that happens I close the book and have a moment of reverence. I need a few moments, in silence, to take in what I’ve read. I often need overnight before I can start a new book. I suppose you could describe it as being haunted – the thought of a scene or a letter in a book that invaded your thoughts when you least expect it. It stays there, sometimes forever, to become a part of you. In the same way a particular aria or love song might forever float through your head. Some books lie on the surface, they pass the time, they amuse, and I do enjoy them but they don’t stay. Others get into your brain, like a complex puzzle you have to keep fiddling with, this way and that, until you find a solution. Some books enter your soul, they make you feel real physical emotions, they make you wonder in the same way you did as a child when a book took you away on a marvellous adventure. They touch you soul deep. This is one of those books.
Nydia Hetherington is a sorceress. She has conjured up this box of terrors and delights from the depths of her imagination and it is incredible. We follow Mouse as she crawls, peeps, stumbles and walks around the incredible show that is a circus. Billed as a tale about the Greatest Funambulist Who Ever Lived I was expecting glitz and glamour, the front of house show. However, the author cleverly goes deeper than that, far behind the curtain. Incredible descriptive passages draw us in to Mouse’s world from the smell near the big cats enclosure, the feel of a llama’s fur against your skin, the cramped but colourful quarters of the circus folk and the volatile relationship between her mother Marina and father Manu. So focussed on each other, her parents seem barely aware of her existence as she watches the drab and grubby circus folk become stars of the ring with their make-up, sequins and feathers. Her freedom gives us access to every part of this wondrous world, but freedom has its dark side and for Mouse this is really a tale of parental neglect. She is brought up by the circus, by the mother of the company Big Gen and her husband Fausto and eventually by Serendipity Wilson, the flame haired high wire artists who takes Mouse under her wing. Under her tuition Mouse becomes an incredible tightrope walker, able to take her place under the spotlight like her parents.
Serendipity with her flaming hair that glows like amber is from the Isle of Man and brings with her all the mythology of the islands. She weaves incredible stories for Mouse, who now sleeps in her wigwam, in much the same way as mystical fog weaves around her according to her mood. She thinks that Manu and Marina barely notice she’s gone, but Manu enlists her help to get Marina performing again. They coax her into the tank to perform as a mermaid for the crowd. Even so, there is no discernible warmth between Mouse and her mother, Marina’s focus is always inward to her own problems. It is after her mother’s death that Mouse is handed a letter from her mother, in which she admits to never feeling love for her child and explains why. For me this was the most powerful part of the book, and brought me to tears. The author has cleverly placed this moment of stark reality within the magic and it gives the letter huge emotional impact. It hits home the idea that all freedom has a price. Mouse has never had a mother, except the warmth and care she’s had from Serendipity and never questions whether that will change.
Book ending these stories is an elderly Mouse, recounting these stories to a journalist. Living in New York, she recalls her arrival in the city and her expectations of Coney Island. She is older and recounts her past from a distance, but what comes across is terrible regret and sorrow around the disappearance of a child from the circus family. She is haunted by a flame haired Serendipity Wilson who, like all mothers, lives on as a voice in Mouse’s head; her inner critic commenting on all she does, only silent when Mouse truly lives in the moment. It’s in these sections that we see what the book is truly about. I expected a book about the spectacle of the circus, the showmanship and all that glitters. Instead this is a meditation on what it is to be human. The journalist asks the questions that go beneath Mouse’s surface and see the gritty truth; we are all flawed and we all make mistakes. This is a beguiling mix of myth, magic and human frailty. Truly brilliant.
Meet the Author
From Leeds — although born on Merseyside and spending the first few years of life on the Isle of Man — Nydia Hetherington moved to London in her early twenties to embark on an acting career. Later she moved to Paris where she created her own theatre company. When she returned to London a decade later, she completed a creative writing degree graduating with first class honours.
Eugenics is described by National Human Genome Research Institute as
“an immoral and pseudoscientific theory that claims it is possible to perfect people and groups through genetics and the scientific laws of inheritance”.
It’s a word that’s been floating around social media for some time, mainly in connection to those behind the new US administration. There are concerns that people with physical disabilities, those of different ethnic origins and those with mental ill health or learning disabilities, might be considered less desirable in society. There are people with disabilities fighting against the introduction of assisted dying, because it could be interpreted to mean disabled lives have less value. We’ve all probably asked at one time or another, how could ordinary German citizens sleep walk into the Final Solution? The answer is slowly. There is evidence that children with disabilities were being removed and institutionalised as early as 1933. We like to think the Holocaust couldn’t happen again, but there is evidence of eugenic policies affecting the lives of ordinary Americans until the 1970s. Of course the Nazis are the ultimate and extreme example of eugenic policies being enacted, but both European countries and the US were using eugenicist policies on their own citizens across the 20th Century. This is what happens when we demonise the disabled, the poor and the destitute. The rise of the far right across the world is driven by eugenicist thinking, that some people are inherently better than others. This is why eugenicist policies affected those with learning difficulties, Native Americans, African Americans and people with long term disabilities. I try not to be political on the blog, but here I’m not advocating particular political parties. All I want to do is share novels that show how eugenics affected real communities and individuals.
From the outside, Eleanor and Edward Hamilton have the perfect life, but they’re harbouring a secret that threatens to fracture their entire world.
London, 1929. Eleanor Hamilton is a dutiful mother, a caring sister and an adoring wife to a celebrated war hero. Her husband, Edward, is a pioneer in the eugenics movement. The Hamiltons are on the social rise, and it looks as though their future is bright. When Mabel, their young daughter, begins to develop debilitating seizures, they have to face an uncomfortable truth: Mabel has epilepsy – one of the ‘undesirable’ conditions that Edward campaigns against. Forced to hide their daughter away so as to not jeopardise Edward’s life’s work, the couple must confront the truth of their past – and the secrets that have been buried. Will Eleanor and Edward be able to fight for their family? Or will the truth destroy them?
Many will have read this heart-rending novel or seen the film, beautifully performed by Andrew Garfield, Carey Mulligan and Keira Knightly. This perfectly encapsulates that head in the sand mindset humans are so good at. We can ignore terrible injustices when they’re not happening to us, or people like us. We can always think it doesn’t apply to us. Until it does. Kazuo Ishiguro imagines the lives of a group of students growing up in a darkly skewed version of contemporary England. Narrated by Kathy, now thirty-one, Never Let Me Go dramatises her attempts to come to terms with her childhood at the seemingly idyllic Hailsham School and with the fate that has always awaited her and her closest friends in the wider world. A story of love, friendship and memory, Never Let Me Go is charged throughout with a sense of the fragility of life and is utterly terrifying.
From the New York Times bestselling author of The Good House, the story of two friends, raised in the same orphanage, whose loyalty is put to the ultimate test when they meet years later at a controversial institution—one as an employee; the other, an inmate.
It’s 1927 and eighteen-year-old Mary Engle is hired to work as a secretary at a remote but scenic institution for mentally disabled women called the Nettleton State Village for Feebleminded Women of Childbearing Age. She’s immediately in awe of her employer—brilliant, genteel Dr. Agnes Vogel. Dr. Vogel had been the only woman in her class in medical school. As a young psychiatrist she was an outspoken crusader for women’s suffrage. Now, at age forty, Dr. Vogel runs one of the largest and most self-sufficient public asylums for women in the country. Mary deeply admires how dedicated the doctor is to the poor and vulnerable women under her care.
Soon after she’s hired, Mary learns that a girl from her childhood orphanage is one of the inmates. Mary remembers Lillian as a beautiful free spirit with a sometimes-tempestuous side. Could she be mentally disabled? When Lillian begs Mary to help her escape, alleging the asylum is not what it seems, Mary is faced with a terrible choice. Should she trust her troubled friend with whom she shares a dark childhood secret? Mary’s decision triggers a hair-raising sequence of events with life-altering consequences for all. Inspired by a true story about the author’s grandmother, The Foundling offers a rare look at a shocking chapter of American history. This gripping page-turner will have readers on the edge of their seats right up to the stunning last page…asking themselves, “Did this really happen here?”
Since the death of his fiancée Aimee, Ross Wakeman has been unable to fill the hole she has left in his life. Seeking to end his pain, he becomes a ghost hunter, despite never having seen a ghost.
However, when his job leads him to the town of Comtosook, it becomes apparent that Ross isn’t the only one haunted by the past. When he meets the mysterious Lia, who brings him to life for the first time in years, redemption seems around the corner. But the discoveries that await him are beyond anything he could dream of – in this world or the next. Second Glance takes a look at how American eugenicist policies affected the lives of Native Americans with a programme of sterilisation. It’s not her usual court based drama, but still has her themes of injustice, identity and a lesser known part of American history.
Montgomery, Alabama. 1973. Fresh out of nursing school, Civil Townsend has big plans to make a difference in her community. She wants to help women make their own choices for their lives and bodies.
But when her first week on the job takes her down a dusty country road to a tumbledown cabin and into the heart of the Williams family, Civil learns there is more to her new role than she bargained for. Neither of the two young sisters has even kissed a boy, but they are poor and Black, and for those handling their welfare benefits, that’s reason enough to have them on birth control. When Civil discovers a terrible injustice, she must choose between carrying out instructions or following her heart and decides to risk everything to stand up for what is right.
Inspired by true events and a shocking chapter of recent history, Take My Hand is a novel that will open your eyes and break your heart. An unforgettable story about love and courage, it is also a timely and uplifting reminder that one person can change the world.
1911: Inside an asylum at the edge of the Yorkshire moors, where men and women are kept apart by high walls and barred windows, there is a ballroom vast and beautiful. For one bright evening every week they come together and dance. When John and Ella meet it is a dance that will change two lives forever.
Set over the heatwave summer of 1911, the end of the Edwardian era, THE BALLROOM tells a rivetting tale of dangerous obsession, of madness and sanity, and of who gets to decide which is which. It is a love story like no other, showing how eugenics affected those deemed mentally ill.
In a sleepy German village, Allina Strauss’s life seems idyllic: she works at her uncle’s bookshop, makes strudel with her aunt, and spends weekends with her friends and fiancé. But it’s 1939, Adolf Hitler is Chancellor, and Allina’s family hides a terrifying secret—her birth mother was Jewish, making her a Mischling.
One fateful night after losing everyone she loves, Allina is forced into service as a nurse at a state-run baby factory called Hochland Home. There, she becomes both witness and participant to the horrors of Heinrich Himmler’s ruthless eugenics program.
The Sunflower House is a meticulously-researched debut historical novel from Adriana Allegri that uncovers the notorious Lebensborn Program of Nazi Germany. Women of “pure” blood stayed in Lebensborn homes for the sole purpose of perpetuating the Aryan population, giving birth to thousands of babies who were adopted out to “good” Nazi families. Allina must keep her Jewish identity a secret in order to survive, but when she discovers the neglect occurring within the home, she’s determined not only to save herself, but also the children in her care.
A tale of one woman’s determination to resist and survive, The Sunflower House is also a love story. When Allina meets Karl, a high-ranking SS officer with secrets of his own, the two must decide how much they are willing to share with each other—and how much they can stand to risk as they join forces to save as many children as they can. The threads of this poignant and heartrending novel weave a tale of loss and love, friendship and betrayal, and the secrets we bury in order to save ourselves.
In rural 1930s Virginia, a young immigrant mother fights for her dignity and those she loves against America’s rising eugenics movement – when widespread support for policies of prejudice drove imprisonment and forced sterilizations based on class, race, disability, education, and country of origin – in this tragic and uplifting novel of social injustice, survival, and hope.
When Lena Conti—a young, unwed mother—sees immigrant families being forcibly separated on Ellis Island, she vows not to let the officers take her two-year old daughter. But the inspection process is more rigorous than she imagined, and she is separated from her mother and teenage brother, who are labeled burdens to society, denied entry, and deported back to Germany. Now, alone but determined to give her daughter a better life after years of living in poverty and near starvation, she finds herself facing a future unlike anything she had envisioned.
Silas Wolfe, a widowed family relative, reluctantly brings Lena and her daughter to his weathered cabin in Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains to care for his home and children. Though the hills around Wolfe Hollow remind Lena of her homeland, she struggles to adjust. Worse, she is stunned to learn the children in her care have been taught to hide when the sheriff comes around. As Lena meets their neighbors, she realizes the community is vibrant and tight knit, but also senses growing unease. The State of Virginia is scheming to paint them as ignorant, immoral, and backwards so they can evict them from their land, seize children from parents, and deal with those possessing “inferior genes.”
After a social worker from the Eugenics Office accuses Lena of promiscuity and feeblemindedness, her own worst fears come true. Sent to the Virginia State Colony for the Feebleminded and Epileptics, Lena face impossible choices in hopes of reuniting with her daughter—and protecting the people, and the land, she has grown to love.
If you want to read more background on eugenics here are a few links:
“I know the power of stories and of voices. Even silenced ones. So let me end mine with what I have seen of Sycorax, and assure you again that once, she had a voice, and it was loud and melodious and filled with magic”.
I was entranced by this beautifully lyrical tale of the unseen sorcerous of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. This is my favourite Shakespeare play because I love its atmosphere and the use of musical sounds to conjure up this enchanted island, ruled by the magician Prospero. Sycorax isn’t even present in the play, but is mentioned as a sorcerous and mother of Caliban, who is depicted as a monster and a slave to Prospero. The author wants to give Sycorax a voice, one that she doesn’t have in the play, to tell us in her own words what it was like to be treated with suspicion and cruelty. Sycorax’s story is an emotional one as she wrestles with her identity, her powers and the loneliness of being an outcast. Each time her powers grow the more isolated she becomes.The author is clearly so passionate about this book and giving her central character a voice and I think she achieves it beautifully.
The story unfolds slowly while the author immerses us in the world Sycorax inhabits, at first with her parents. Taking her cue from Shakespeare her prose is lyrical and poetic. I really felt like I was in the presence of a magical being and it was the sounds that really grabbed me – the tinkle of sea shells on her mother’s anklets, the sounds of the sea, the lazy buzz of the honey bees they keep. I felt as if I was cocooned on a Caribbean island and strangely relaxed too. Everything is so aligned with nature and nothing interrupts, because even the market is just laying a blanket at the side of the road and selling in the open. By creating this mindful and harmonious background the author makes sure that when something does interrupt, it tears through this idyll and comes as a shock. So when Sycorax goes down to the marina and sailors are unloading goods, the noise is a huge contrast and the roughness of these men who are filthy and covered with lice makes us realise what a feminine energy the rest of the book has. This assault on her senses is violent and the unmistakably male. Despite the beauty of it’s language there are tough subjects here, that are based in misogyny and how women with healing skills are misunderstood by society. There’s also an element of colonialism here, over women’s bodies as well as where they live.
“Women are used as an instrument of war. Our bodies are another land to be invaded, destroyed and conquered.”
There’s a big hint that her mother was aware of men’s need to conquer and control. In fact, her mother blindfolds Sycorax from a young age, covering the incredible violet colour – I imagined them like Elizabeth Taylor’s amazing eyes. Yet she doesn’t hide them because something is wrong with them, but more because they are extraordinary and it might draw male attention. This could mean a sexual possession, such as the attention Sycorax experiences from Afalkay the Beautiful. However, nothing makes men more fearful than a woman with knowledge and if she won’t behave or remain hidden might they attempt to silence her? In spite of everything she faces, Sycorax remains strong, a strength that could be attributed to her upbringing with her tenacious and otherworldly mother. Sycorax’s ongoing inner strength and determination to find her own identity in a world that shuns her, is something to truly admire. Because of this she is vehemently hated among the townsfolk, especially men because she won’t disappear.
I admired Sycorax’s strength, just her ability to keep getting up each day and going on. Everything they try to be rid of her just doesn’t work. Described as born of the sun and moon and shaped by fire and malady gives us a sense of her resolve, she’s hard as forged iron. Of course my main interest would be disability and chronic illness, being a fellow sufferer. I wrote my English Lit dissertation on disability representation and my Renaissance literature exam on Caliban and a potential reading of his character as someone with a disability. Yet somehow I hadn’t picked up on his mother and here we see her as stiffened, bent over and in chronic pain. This is Nydia’s purpose in writing this story, she beautifully dedicates her book to readers with chronic illness. This is so moving to me because we’re so rarely seen these days in an empathic or positive way. We’re so rarely seen at all. I mean really seen by someone who knows our struggle. It’s important to point out that Sycorax is a woman with chronic illness and this is a very different experience to a man – it’s shown in research that women’s pain is taken less seriously when presenting at A and E. Even when when women visit multiple times, doctors are slower at ordering tests or referring to a consultant.
There’s a constant sense of give and take between Sycorax and her universe. Strangely the more she’s affected by illness, the more powerful she becomes. The power comes in the shape of wisdom, because people with chronic illness understand things about life that other people won’t get in a lifetime. It’s also about resilience, something that comes with time and getting to know how your illness affects you. By working with it, Sycorax knows what her body can do and how much activities will take out of her. Everything is a bargain and when she has to take to her bed she counts rest as an activity. I love that Nydia puts her own wisdom into the character, in the need to measure out energy daily and live with constant pain. Everything Sycorax goes through and learns about her illness, we follow and it was moving to hear words that have gone through my own head. I’ve woken up in agony, out of nowhere, trying to work out what tasks are absolutely necessary and which can wait. I was moved when Sycorax was taken to a woman in labour by a friend of her mother’s, teaching her how to help and support. The woman is screaming and thrashing, so Sycorax goes and kneels by her head, holding it gently and singing a song in a rhythm. She slows down the woman’s breathing and draws her attention to the ebb and flow of the pain. It calms the woman and allows her to work with contractions rather than fight them. This is something I do when in pain and something I’ve taught clients with chronic pain. Even severe pain is rarely continuous agony. It has a pattern, a shift, an ebb and flow. If you tune into the ebb and flow of pain you can go with it rather than fight it. That’s what I’m going to take away from this beautiful book, to remind myself of the ebb and flow in life and in my own body. Nydia has written a beautiful piece of work that takes us full circle to The Tempest. She’s managed to bring 21st Century injustices to the forefront without losing any of the magical beauty of the original play.
Meet the Author
From Leeds — although born on Merseyside and spending the first few years of life on the Isle of Man — Nydia Hetherington moved to London in her early twenties to embark on an acting career. Later she moved to Paris where she created her own theatre company. When she returned to London a decade later, she completed a creative writing degree graduating with first class honours.
This first of Louise Hare’s novels really stayed with me, it grabbed me early and never let go. When a writer whisks you so convincingly to another time and place it’s such an incredible skill. I found myself in post-Windrush London where new people are making the capital their home and the huge social change is causing friction. As one mixed race character observed ‘she was no longer the odd one out’ as she went to the market. More immigrants are arriving, wandering the streets, weighed down by layers thrown on haphazardly as the reality of a British winter starts to bite. However, as those first pioneers answered the call from the motherland, they’d found London not at all what they were expecting. The British government had put that call out to its colonies. They needed workers, to replace those men lost in WW2 and to rebuild cities recovering from the Blitz. Yet no one seemed grateful, no one said thank you and the living was far from easy.
We follow two main characters: Lawrie and Evie. They are courting in the old fashioned sense. Lawrie sees in Evie a nice girl, a girl who has been well brought up even though she has never known her father. He wants to do things properly, do right by her. So he calls and they go to the cinema or for a walk. Lawrie has come over from Jamaica and works part time as a musician in a local band and full time as a postman, with a sideline in the odd special black market delivery too. Evie has lived in London her whole life with her mother Agnes. They have been Lawrie’s neighbours ever since a rented room opened up at the house next door. The two women understand prejudice, because they too have been victims of it, and live a life kept very much to themselves. Evie is mixed race and Agnes, who is white, has been the subject of gossip and judgement ever since she Evie was born. So, although what transpires in the book may be shocking to us, it barely surprises them, because they know how people feel about any sort of difference from the white British norm.
The story splits into two time frames approximately one year apart. In one, Lawrie is cutting across Clapham Common at the end of his postal route when he hears a woman shouting. She has found a baby in the pond. Lawrie rushes to help, but they are both too late. The baby becomes the book’s central mystery and because she has black skin, suspicion falls upon the already beleaguered Jamaican community. Rathbone, is the police officer assigned to the case and he relishes causing problems for the community. His suspicions fall on Lawrie, as the first man on the scene, but Rathbone doesn’t just investigate, he sets out to ruin Lawrie’s life. However, there is a secret to this baby’s background that is closer to home than Lawrie imagines.
I found myself rooting for Lawrie and Evie. I wanted them to be able to make marriage plans and live the simple, quiet life they dreamed about. Her mother Agnes has had to be very strong, being an unmarried mother of a mixed race child meant being ostracised. Evie has a childhood memory of her mother having the neighbours for tea when, against her instructions, Evie was caught looking down through the banisters. They never had tea for the neighbours again. It takes Evie several years to make the link; she is the reason her mum has no friends or visitors. This same hostility is now experienced by the men who arrived on the Windrush and it must have been bewildering. To be asked to this country, to fill a shortage of labour and pull a country out of difficulty, then meet nothing but hostility and suspicion from its people seems so unjust.
A lot of the tension in the novel is around sex and relationships. When the band are booked to play a wedding, the British host is immediately taken aback but decides they can play. All is well until a woman stumbles on the dance floor and one of the band rushes to help. Her husband doesn’t appreciate his wife being touched by a black man and a brawl breaks out causing the band to run for their lives. Provocative women, like the character Rose, stir up tension even more. The men refer to her as Rita Hayworth, the red-haired Hollywood bombshell. When the men first arrive she helps with getting them settled. Then she offers to take Lawrie and his friend to the Lido, dazzling them in her bikini and flirting with Lawrie. She makes it very clear that she wants him with no thought to the consequences if her husband finds out. Interracial relationships are simply not accepted. As Agnes points out, her daughter Evie is far better off in a long term relationship with Lawrie, because although they come from very different places, society will view them as the same due to their skin colour.
I felt immersed in this world the author has created. From the cold mornings on Lawrie’s postal round, to the smoky nightclubs the band plays into the early hours. This is my grandparents generation so I could also imagine the homes, the struggle of still being on rations and for the women, trying to look nice on a tight budget. It reminded me of stories my grandma and great- aunts told me about going out dancing in post-war Liverpool. I felt so much for Evie, especiallywhen her whole story unfolded towards the end of the novel. There is a whole cast of interesting characters, but Evie and Lawrie are this novel’s heart and I desperately wanted life to work out for them. Louise Hare has written a vibrant book with an incredible sense of place and time, and interesting characters. I loved it. In fact it’s a mark of how much I now love this author that I pre-ordered her next book due in 2026.
Meet the Author
Louise Hare is a London-based writer and has an MA in Creative Writing from Birkbeck, University of London. Originally from Warrington, she has found inspiration in the capital for much of her work, including This Lovely City and Miss Aldridge Regrets.
This Lovely City was featured on the inaugural BBC Two TV book club show, Between the Covers, shortlisted for the RSL Ondaatje Prize, and longlisted for the HWA Debut Crown Award. Louise was selected for the Observer Top 10 Best Debut Novelists list in 2020, securing her place as an author to watch.
When I want a thriller that I’ll absolutely devour in one or two sittings, I always reach for Mark Edwards and his latest is very unsettling. Fiona Smith is new on the street and is trying to get to know her neighbours. Ethan and Emma Dove seem like a lovely couple, in fact they’re the ideal family. Their kids Dylan and Rose are targeted by the two tearaways who live across the road who circle the other teenagers on their scrambler bikes, as their German Shepherds circle their terrified cockapoo Lola. Fiona intervenes and when later one of the boys has a terrible accident their parents are convinced someone caused the tyre blowout that resulted in a head injury. It couldn’t have been Fiona could it? The boy’s parents can’t find a trace of Fiona online so no red flags. However, the elderly lady called Iris who lives on the corner, she’s sure she’s seen Fiona before but can’t quite put her finger on where. When Fiona offers to look after Ethan and Emma’s daughter Rosie for the summer she has definitely become a feature in their lives. Their son Dylan is unsure. He definitely doesn’t need a babysitter, but it isn’t just that. Fiona unnerves him. He’s noticed that when no one is looking her expression becomes neutral, like a robot. Rose is enraptured though and they begin to visit Fiona’s favourite places and play chess together when it’s raining. All the time Fiona is monitoring Rose. Has she seen a glimmer of herself in this ordinary seeming teenage girl? As Fiona starts to test out Rose’s limits, Ethan and Emma are oblivious to what’s happening to their daughter.
The action takes place over one summer, with steadily rising tension. I can promise you that you’ll reach a certain point and won’t want to put this down. Ethan and Emma have a fairly ordinary family life with the usual ups and downs. I felt Ethan was much more fleshed out than Emma, he’s recently taken the risk of opening a vinyl record store and taking the move further out of London. They had a recent crisis in their relationship after Emma became close to a work colleague – something Ethan describes as an ‘emotional affair’. Fiona is very amused by this description and sees it as a potential opportunity to drive a wedge between them. I was surprised that they so readily agreed to leaving Rose with their new neighbour, after all their knowledge of her is vague at best. They haven’t even been inside her house. However, I did understand the financial pressures and needing to be two working parents with teenagers pushing to do different things. Fiona is a godsend, a very rare adult that Rose enjoys being with. They definitely seem to have a bond, but is that down to a shared psychology? Rose could just be doing that teenage girl thing of being fascinated with a woman who isn’t her mum. Fiona allows little slivers of rebellion, like watching a horror film that her mum wouldn’t approve of. This builds a web of secrets between them and lets Rose feel like a grown-up.
Psychologically, the story is fascinating. The word ‘grooming’ has to be applied here. Fiona is very aware of the protection her gender affords and a further layer is afforded to mothers. No one suspects a mother and her daughter, it’s the same reason that female murderers become so infamous: women are creators not destroyers. There’s also the nature versus nurture debate, is Fiona simply harnessing a tendency already present in Rose or will her grooming bring out behaviour that would have otherwise stayed dormant. There are some heart-stopping moments as the novel comes towards the final showdown and I was absolutely gripped. I love that Mark Edwards doesn’t follow the usual tropes of thrillers, because I kept thinking that once Rose realises her full potential there would be no going back. Psychopathy has some treatment options available, but current thinking is that it’s an inherited or genetic condition where the areas of the brain controlling behaviour and impulse control are underdeveloped. Treatment is a combination of psychotherapy, behavioural training and an emphasis on the importance of connection to family and the wider community. However, it is a disorder that can only be controlled rather than cured. Once someone has been shown that society’s rules can be broken can they ever truly go back to how they were before? One thing that really stood out to me was that Fiona’s house has no books! Always a bad sign I think and as a piece of advice on dating it was invaluable; if you go home with someone and they don’t have books, don’t sleep with them. I won’t ruin the book by saying too much, but I highly recommend it to those who enjoy devouring thrillers. In fact if you’ve never read Mark Edwards before go and take a look at his previous books too. You won’t be disappointed.
Out now from Thomas and Mercer
Meet the Author
I write books in which scary things happen to ordinary people, the best known of which are Follow You Home, The Magpies, and Here To Stay. My novels have sold over 5 million copies and topped the bestseller lists numerous times. I pride myself on writing fast-paced page-turners with lots of twists and turns, relatable characters and dark humour. My next novel is The Wasp Trap, which will be published in July in the UK/Australia and September in the US/Canada.
I live in the West Midlands, England, with my wife, our three children, two cats and a golden retriever.
Our story starts in 1768 on a sugar cane plantation in Jamaica, where a slave rebellion has been brewing. The signal will be sent to all the slaves by drum and Daniel has heard their rhythm. He needs to get to the house where his sweetheart Adanna works for the mistress, the house slaves aren’t in on the secret and he wants to get there in time. The field slaves might harm the house slaves along with their masters, perceiving their lives to be easier and their loyalties divided. When Daniel realises the house is already ablaze he leaves with his little sister Pearl, hoping to find a way to get off the island. His story then jumps to 1782 and the aftermath of the War of Independence where free slaves who fought for the British were promised a new life in England. Daniel was one such soldier fighting with the British under Major Edward Fitzallen, whose life he saved. Edward and his wife Elizabeth have taken Daniel and Pearl under their wing, meaning that both brother and sister have a level of education and independence one might think unusual for Jamaican slaves. When Edward is wounded he knows he won’t make the voyage home and calls Daniel to his side. He wants to ensure that Daniel and Pearl have a future in England and calls witnesses to his signature on a new will and testament. It hands all his worldly goods over to Daniel, telling him to call on his brother James to inform him of Edward’s demise and Daniel’s new position as his heir. Daniel naively expects the Fitzallen brothers to be equally honourable and he underestimates James who drugs Daniel, then throws the new will and all proof of Daniel’s claim and rank into the fire. Now Pearl and Daniel are abandoned in London with nothing.
There were many black soldiers shipped over here with the promise of a new life, without any provision made for them when they arrived. Many ended up in the area of St Giles, home to the infamous Rookery which was a warren of corridors and rooms under Covent Garden and accessed through St Giles church crypt. Here lived those forgotten black slaves, Irish immigrants escaping famine and others who had no means to live. People like Daniel and Pearl were outcasts from civilised society and known as the Blackbirds of St Giles, living in dark caves where sewage ran in channels through the rooms. The book was so beautifully detailed, taking us effortlessly into the late 18th Century like time travellers. I could sense absolutely everything from the steady thrum of the drums in Jamaica to the smells of London squalor and it’s poorest residences. The divide between those in poverty and those who are rich is a deep canyon, all the more shocking to Daniel who has become used to a certain deference and to Pearl who barely remembers the plantation and has grown up by Elizabeth Fitzallen’s side with all the privileges of a middle class young woman. Daniel and Pearl’s new home is a dark underground cave where it’s a choice between breathing or being cold because smoke from the fire can’t dissipate and simply sits in the room with them, making them cough and their eyes water. The rooms are filled with a sense of dark foreboding, worsened when Daniel sees the first ceremony with their self-styled King. I loved how the Black Apollo club is a haven by contrast with such an open and accepting feeling. Here black men are relaxed, having a drink or playing chess with friends. It’s a glimpse into the far future, because many of their customers can only dream of a time they’re not a servant, regarded with suspicion or hidden as a dirty secret. There’s also a contrast with Elias’s lodgings as King of the Rookery, he doesn’t share the dark caves of his subjects but instead enjoys plush lodgings policed by a beautiful, prowling cheetah called Infanta.
The sense of terrible injustice is palpable and I was desperate for Daniel to get what is owed to him. Daniel and Pearl have been defrauded and it all feels worse because of the dignity and command he’s had under Edward Fitzallen. I found myself rooting for them both pretty quickly. Their friendship meant that Pearl was always well-dressed and learned to read, something of a privilege for a young black woman born into slavery. The only man who could have corroborated Daniel’s claim is back on his ship by the time Daniel wakes from being drugged. There’s no way to get what he’s owed now. It’s only when he starts training with ex-boxer Melkie Trimme at his St Giles gym that Daniel starts to feel a sense of purpose and pride again. If he can beat the European champion then he and Pearl can get better lodgings and start to repay the kindness shown to them by young girl Jen who has organised their place at The Rookery, brought them food from her pub job and introduced him to some of the most influential men she knows. Daniel is drawn to her, but is still plagued with guilt about Adanna.
For me the women were particularly interesting. In the literature written or set in the 18th Century we’re used to the upper and middle classes, not people like these at the bottom. If we think of the Regency novels of Jane Austen and the more contemporary Bridgerton series the women are accomplished, but it’s all focused on making a good marriage. Women who are poor have no time for accomplishments as they’re too busy surviving, but they have more agency and autonomy. Jen is such a pretty girl but she’s fiery and used to making her own decisions. She has very little but she’s surviving and shows kindness and generosity to those she cares about. Having survived an horrific childhood she is keen for rebellion and knows that Daniel might have what it takes to lead people out of The Rookery and end Elias’s tyranny. She also takes Pearl under her wing and guides her into earning her own money for herself. Daniel wants to protect Pearl and keep her in the middle-class propriety she’s been used to, but this is no use to her when they’re living in a squalid underground cavern. Pearl really rises to the occasion with very little complaint, starting to work at the pub with Jen, then sneaking out in the evening for singing engagements. She has a beautiful voice and Jen thinks it might be her ticket out of the slums. As for the Marquise, she has used her beauty and poise to get where she is. When we’re let into her opulent townhouse Daniel is shocked at the squalor most black immigrants are living in compared to her. How could a black woman reach the heights she has? That’s without mentioning the residence in France or her wardrobe, full of all the gowns and perfumes she can wear. Could there be hints of a darker truth underneath the opulence?
All in all this is a fantastic historical novel; vivid and dark, but ultimately hopeful. I love it when authors take a character and write them back into the period of history they’ve been erased from. Middle class writers would rarely write about the people of The Rookery. Even Charles Dickens didn’t hint at this underground life, despite his interest in those living in poverty. Obadiah is such a great character, a disabled resident of the Rookery whose intellect and philosophies are articulate and inspiring. The fact that he runs the brotherhood at the Black Apollo and has a place at the head of the planning table is amazing. The other men do look up to him as their oracle. It seems strange to imagine that the novels of Jane Austen are only a few years away, because in them we never hear of people like this. It’s easy to forget that not everyone lives in the countryside and working class women are out there making things happen, working everyday and not at home with an embroidery hoop on their lap hoping for a gentleman caller. There’s no one from a different country and even the poor are ‘distressed gentlefolk’. Comparing this world with Austen’s shows how urban, dynamic and exciting London is, especially if women and people of all races have an opportunity to create their own future. Some did, like Olaudah Equiano who was enslaved to a master and a role in the Royal Navy. He came to Britain at the same time as Daniel and once he’d bought back his freedom had become a merchant. Sadly he had to stop travelling when he was almost captured and sold back into slavery in Georgia. However, he did write a memoir that’s still in print today. I came away from this book with everything crossed for Daniel and Pearl, as well as Jen. I was so immersed in the story that it felt strange to look up and find myself back in my own living room.
Meet the Author
Writing together as Lila Cain, Marcia Hutchinson and Kate Griffin are the co-writers and creators of The Blackbirds of St Giles, the first of two books centred on the lives of members of the little-known black community in Georgian London. United by their passion for history and a strong desire to tell an unfamiliar – and hugely resonant – story, Kate and Marcia are delighted that ‘Blackbirds’ and its sequel will be published by Simon & Schuster.
Marcia Hutchinson worked as a lawyer before founding educational publishing company Primary Colours and was awarded an MBE for services to Cultural Diversity in 2010. Her solo debut novel Mercy is due for publication in summer 2025.
Kate is the author of Fyneshade (Viper), a stand-alone Neo-Victorian gothic novel of witchcraft in a house of dark secrets. She is also the writer of the popular Kitty Peck thriller series (Faber and Faber) set in the Music Halls of Victorian London. After studying English Literature at university, Kate worked as assistant to a London antique dealer, as a journalist and in PR. Until recently she was Head of Communications for Britain’s oldest conservation charity, The Society for the Protection of Ancient Buildings (SPAB). Her love of old buildings and the stories they tell continues to inspire her.
There are three rules about ghosts. Rule #1: They can’t speak. | Rule #2: They can’t move. | Rule #3: They can’t hurt you.
Ezra Friedman grew up in the family funeral home which is complicated for someone who can see ghosts. Worst of all was his grandfather’s ghost and his disapproving looks at every choice Ezra made, from his taste in boys to his HRT-induced second puberty. It’s no wonder that since moving out, he’s stayed as far away from the family business as possible.
However, when his dream job doesn’t work out, his mother invites him to Passover Seder and announces she’s running away with the rabbi’s wife! Now Ezra finds himself back at the funeral home to help out and is soon in the thick of it. He has to deal with his loved ones and his crush on Jonathon, one of their volunteers. Jonathon is their neighbour so Ezra is trying to keep the crush under wraps while also dealing with Jonathon’s relative, a spectre who’s keen on breaking all the rules. Ezra must keep his family together and avoid heartbreak, but is starting to realise there’s more than one way to be haunted.
This book came totally out of left field and I didn’t know what to expect at all, but I fell in love with it. I do connect to books about grief and loss as it’s something I’ve gone through but I also loved it’s emphasis on family, culture and tradition. Yes the book is about grief, but it’s also about love. Ezra is a Jewish trans man so it’s also firmly based in the queer community and I enjoyed that too. The romance is quiet and more of a slow burn than the heat of passion, tempered by Jonathon’s recent loss of his father. It depicts the chaos and disruption of death beautifully, especially in how it affects family members differently and can come between them. Ezra and the funeral staff treat deceased persons with respect; they’re both gentle and caring in their work with them and their grieving families. The author takes us deeply into the customs and rituals surrounding a death in a Jewish family and I find this so interesting because we can all learn from each other’s ceremonies and traditions. I felt that their attention to detail and the respect they had for the people brought to their funeral home was ultimately life affirming. Their deference shows how precious life is and that our relationships with family are the most important thing of all.
I also loved the author’s focus on something that I think is the secret to a happy and contented life – being your authentic self. We can see how Ezra’s connection to his communities – family, religion and the queer community – grounds him and reminds him of who he is. When we’re not true to who we are we start to feel dislocated and uncomfortable. Through Ezra’s story we explore how to find yourself again and hopefully be your authentic self. The book felt so much more than a romance, because it’s really a family story too. With a delicate touch the author also brings a light humour to the story, softening the grief and loss without being disrespectful which is a difficult balance to find. It surprised me that this was a debut novel because she’s managed that balance perfectly. My only criticism is that I was hoping for more ghosts. They were more of a background feature than relevant to the plot and from the blurb and title I expected more. Having said that it’s still a great story and I’d love to read more from this writer.
Published Aug 2024 from Trapeze.
Meet the Author
Shelly Jay Shore (she/they) is a writer, digital strategist, and nonprofit fundraiser. She writes for anxious queer millennials, sufferers of Eldest Daughter Syndrome, recovering summer camp counselors, and anyone struggling with the enormity of being a person trying to make the world kinder, softer, and more tender. Her work on queer Jewish identity has been published by Autostraddle, Hey Alma, and the Bisexual Resource Center.
Even though I’m so late reading this book, in a way I’m glad. For the past two years we have been embroiled in the aftermath of the previous government’s decision to house asylum seekers at the the now closed RAF base close by. While many of the community were worried about the issue, our reasons for concern were very different. When a local meeting descended into a heated exchange, it became clear that despite our concerns for the asylum seekers, we couldn’t voice them because of the sheer weight of people strongly opposing the plan for other reasons. Local concerns became lost in the wider debate on refugees. The campaign was targeted by far right organisations that didn’t really care about reasonable concerns, they just wanted to use the opportunity for their own political gain. Known fascists became interested and the gate to the base became a makeshift camp festooned with flags, stop the boats banners and others claiming asylum seekers were paedophiles. It became really hard to drive past and see all this racism and misinformation on the gates of such an iconic base, ironically known for it’s fighting against a fascist regime taking over Europe. We became part of an organisation set up to support the asylum seekers as they arrived into this hostile environment. When the new government changed course with the policy, we were relieved to know that there no longer fascist organisations camping out up the road. This book gave me more insight into a refugee’s journey.
The writer cleverly chooses a fragmented structure to tell her heroine’s story. Named ‘The Voiceless’ she writes about her experience as a way of processing her story and communicating it to other people as far as she can. Her memory comes in snippets, so her narrative moves back and forth in time and might seem a bit sketchy. Imagine everything you have is taken away from you. Your home is rubble, everything you owned that said something about who you are is gone with it. You have no documents to prove your identity or your education. Everyone you have known is either dead or scattered to the wind. She has escaped Aleppo with nothing. If you think about how your belongings, choices of clothing and your photographs say something about who you are, now imagine it gone. How do you keep a sense of self? Especially when you’re seeing or subjected to atrocities like killing, abuse and rape. Your psyche becomes shattered. Our narrator is trying to record those fragments, to bear witness and also to put the bits of herself back together. It might feel strange, even jarring at first but it’s supposed to be. It’s meant to confront and make you think.
The author shows us how she tries to embark on a future and make connections. She’s starting a journey of self-discovery, rebuilding herself in this new environment. She writes from home and watches her neighbours, keeping her eye on them. It’s called hyper-vigilance and it’s hard for her to drop these habits even though she’s now safe. Her muteness isolates her from others, in fact many people assume she’s deaf as well. She takes small steps outside, using the shop and going to the mosque and starts to meet people. Her observations of her neighbours are quite humorous as she gives them names that reflect their behaviour – the Juicer and No Light Man. Her insight into us is brilliant. She has that outsider’s gaze and because she doesn’t want to reveal too much about herself at first, she can use these observations. She writes about the people she sees, the strange way of life she can observe with so much scrutiny because it’s alien to her.
Slowly she starts to process and share her own story. She once had a somewhat privileged upbringing, she was well-educated too but war has left her with nothing. Then there’s the war, loss and the terror of trying to get to a place of refuge; a refuge that isn’t always the safe place it seems. She slowly makes space for new people in her life. I felt like her writing and sharing was helping her heal, remembering the trauma and processing it fully helps make room for growth. As someone who advocates writing therapy I found this so moving. The author has captured this process so beautifully as the writing becomes less fragmented and less about the past. This is such an important story and I’ll be buying the book for a few friends who I know will want to read it and maybe a few who wouldn’t. The sections of her time in Syria and travelling to the UK is so evocative, I defy people not to be moved by the raw truth of her experience.
The Lotus Readers 