Butcher by Joyce Carol Oates

Oates does not shrink from depicting violence in her fiction. From her haunting fictionalisation of the Chappaquiddick incident in “Black Water” to a representation of the mind of a Jeffrey Dahmer-like serial killer in “Zombie”, this literature exposes not only horrendous events but the warped reasoning of the perpetrators of these crimes. However, JCO is also a strong advocate for giving a voice to the voiceless by writing about those who are abused, marginalized and discarded. Such is the case for this new novel which is dedicated “For all the Brigits – the unnamed as well as the named, the muted as well as those whose voices were heard, the forgotten as well as those enshrined in history.” Brigit is an indentured servant working at the New Jersey Asylum for Female Lunatics in the mid-1800s. She becomes a patient and assistant to the asylum's director Silas Aloysius Weir, M.D. whose “chronicle of a physician's life” makes up the bulk of this narrative. The novel is a fictional biography by Weir's son as he's gathered testimonies to account for how his father became known as the 'Father of Gyno-Psychiatry'. But, rather than presenting a distinguished career, the book shows how Weir was really an ambitious man whose experimental operations on the bodies of women makes him more of a butcher than a doctor.

In Silas' own words we see how he arrogantly attempts to justify his actions for the sake of science and his version of Christian duty when really it is about proving himself to his father, enhancing his own reputation/wealth, kowtowing to those in power, taking credit for the knowledge/discoveries of others and perpetuating the assumed superiority of white men. Not only are the inept surgical procedures he performs stomach-turning but so is his attitude, egotism and arrogance. I felt so deeply for all the women who he was assigned to see and were forced (sometimes drugged) to receive his inept ministrations. Weir ruthlessly plots to have access to a wider choice of subjects to conduct experiments on with as minimal accountability as possible. Alongside the horrendous violence inflicted upon his subjects' minds and bodies is Weir's total repugnance of the female body. The only thing which impinges upon Weir's sense of narcissistic self-belief is the figure of Brigit. It's curious and fascinating how their relationship evolves as Silas becomes increasingly convinced that this initially deaf/mute individual is speaking to him and they engage in several (imagined) arguments as she becomes the voice of reason and his conscience.

Oates shows how misogyny is built into the medical profession leading to a near total ignorance about how the human body actually works, wrongful treatments and the sense of shame put upon women about their own bodies and natural functions. In the background are the midwives/nurses (Betje and Gretel) who often have much more practical knowledge and applications to treat the issues that women face. Yet they are often dismissed or treated as uneducated amateurs. Gretel is a nurse at the asylum and it's fascinating how she cunningly plays up to Silas' ego suggesting options which he can dismiss and then come back claiming as his own as this is the only way to help the female patients get anything close to practical treatments. It's perhaps Gretel's only viable option working in such an unjust system. This also allows her to achieve more favour under Silas' authority and hence be able to better care for the women.

It's so interesting how the story expands upon the history of indentured servants in America running parallel to the practice of slavery showing how there was a whole other class of people with no rights and no financial resources to turn anywhere else. Of course, even women with more means and status who suffered from physical/mental conditions which the medical profession didn't understand were also vulnerable as women were basically treated as the property of fathers/husbands. Nevertheless, when the bodies begin stacking up through mistreatment or suicide there is a sense of growing outcry and charges begin forming against those in power. This builds up to a dramatic conclusion which is foreshadowed at the beginning of the novel. Oates is particularly skilled at portraying a frenzied consciousness or mob mentality to convey scenes where there is fast action and heated feelings at play.

It's notable how Oates' novel is set in a similar time period and setting to Jayne Anne Phillips' recent Pulitzer Prize winning novel “Night Watch”, but “Butcher” presents a corrupt and terrifying institution rather than the progressive one which Phillips portrayed. Though Oates highlights the way many women in history have been butchered and killed under the guise of advancing science and a misguided version of Christian values, the novel is also commenting on what happens when decisions about women's bodies are left in the hands of men. It feels intentional that Oates has produced this historical novel now when the rights of women are being more constricted in some states in America and continue being minimised in some other countries around the world. I feel like this gives the story a relevance and urgency which makes the violence portrayed have meaning beyond simply being horrific. Oates is so skilled at evoking a psychological intensity with her narrative style which makes it gripping and mesmerising to read. However, there are some sections of this novel which feel less convincing especially in the mantra of a female patient from a higher social class which feels too self-conscious and knowing to be believable as a diary entry. Also some of Silas' sections seem so hopelessly naïve it reads more like Oates is overtly building criticism against him into the story rather than mimicking his voice. Nevertheless, as a fictional amalgam of doctors from this period of history which Oates researched, Weir typifies a kind of arrogant man who will do anything to maintain his own position and dominance so he must believe wholeheartedly in his righteousness no matter how ludicrous.

“Butcher” is a haunting account of the kinds of early experiments performed on human subjects which led to the medical knowledge we have today. It's also a striking representation of a misogynistic mind which is motivated more by self-belief and personal gain than caring for his patients. It's an arresting, horrifying and impactful novel.

Night Watch by Jayne Anne Phillips

I was greatly anticipating the announcement of the 2024 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and made a video speculating what books might be listed for this year's prize. When “Night Watch” by Jayne Anne Phillips was declared the winner I was highly intrigued because personally I'd never heard of this novel before. Some readers I follow who had read this novel were disappointed by this winner, but nevertheless I went into reading it with an open mind. Unfortunately I found reading the novel to be a frustrating and disappointing experience. The plot is not only melodramatic but often feels like a cliched soap opera with double identities, amnesia, separated lovers and a dramatic fire/physical altercation. Of course, these can be elements in great literature but this novels feels somewhat like an unsuccessful mashup of “Wuthering Heights” and “Rebecca” set during the American Civil War. Its heavy reliance on coincidences and artificially conjured emotional situations makes it seem like a cheap and facile imitation of an epic tale.

The story is primarily set at the Trans-Alleghany lunatic asylum in West Virginia in the year 1874 and follows the gradual recovery of a mother named Eliza who is so mentally unwell she's nearly comatose at the novel's beginning. Her teenage daughter ConaLee joins her at the asylum, but pretends to be Eliza's carer because family aren't allowed to live with patients. Both mother and daughter take pseudonyms while at the asylum. Prior to their time at the facility they've been captives of a tyrannical scheming Confederate soldier who insists on being called Papa. The narrative occasionally flashes back to a decade prior at the end of the American Civil War to show different characters' points of view including Eliza's lover John, a wounded Union soldier, and Dearbhla, an Irish healer. There's also an orphan boy nicknamed Weed dwelling at the asylum who oversees many events which occur between the characters. Eventually true identities are revealed, a professionally questionable romance forms and everyone goes on a jolly carriage ride.

The Pulitzer simply declared this to be “a beautifully rendered novel” and in a Publisher's Weekly interview Phillips described wanting the reader to “understand the history of another time, to appreciate it—and the best way to understand,” she says, “is fiction. I want to write scenes where the reader can feel the shattering moments.” There are certainly shattering moments including an unnecessarily extended rape scene whose gruelling nature points to why Eliza is psychologically destroyed. However, I didn't feel the story sufficiently conveyed the dynamics of this long-term abusive situation and I was left with a lot of questions which it felt like the authors skipped or avoided. Despite giving a sense of the facility including reproductions of photographs and documents, I didn't understand how the hospital operated. I don't understand why ConaLee was denied from knowing about her true father for so long. Eliza's neighbour Dearbhla is the kind of character I'd normally be intrigued by and want to read about, but her involvement in the plot felt forced. There was a lot of potential in the story regarding revelations about John O'Shea and Weed's ambiguous nature and origins, but these didn't feel sufficiently developed.

The momentum of the book rests in the damage of the past and this is embodied in the monstrous figure of Papa. However, the primary action takes place in the present as Eliza slowly heals and the story leads to an artificial confrontation. Of course it's inspiring to find that there existed a facility at the time which was so caring to its mentally ill patients as most such institutions during this period were cruel and abusive. But the story and the choice to focus on this benevolent facility don't give much insight into this period of history. Or, rather, they suggest a simplistic sense of hope amidst a devastating period which left many casualties. Consider the example of Keneally's “Schindler's Ark” which highlights an inspiring example of humanity amidst a genocide. Yet the book also doesn't shy from portraying the complex cruelty and destruction of this period of history. “Night Watch” only offers a flattened version of the past with a syrupy plot designed to suggest that benevolence ultimately prevails, but this has little to do with reality of war or its aftermath.

The Vaster Wilds by Lauren Groff

It's striking when the mere act of reading a vividly written novel can provoke a physical reaction. Groff's new book is so atmospheric in its depiction of a spirited girl gradually starving while seeking shelter and running through a snowy forest that I felt the urge to wrap myself in a blanket while hoarding a provision of food. It's set in 17th century Virginia and follows the unnamed protagonist as she flees an English settlement after committing murder. The story of her life and reason for making this perilous journey into the unknown are gradually revealed as we follow the daily struggles she encounters while being subjected to the harsh elements of winter. Moments of reprieve when shelter or a bit of food are found feel all the more precious because she's so intensely vulnerable. While it charts her rapid physical deterioration it also captures her process of self discovery as she's experiencing the first true independence of her life. Having been born into impoverished circumstances and worked as a servant, she gradually forms a sense of self separate from the religious and social strictures she had to endure up until this point. It's a historical tale that has the tone of a timeless fable. I found it thoroughly absorbing, moving and breathtaking.

There are many stunning descriptions of the natural world throughout the story. Groff conveys the feeling of waking up to snow covered scenery, the chill of a freezing stream and the taste pine tea, but also the terror of rural night time when predators lurk. This is a season of desperate survival for every creature in this forest and the tragedies experienced by an enraged squirrel and sleeping ducks are also evocatively described. The author doesn't shy from bodily descriptions when conveying what starvation does to the girl's digestion or how fleas plague her. Though conditions in her present circumstances are dire, her life growing up in England and experiences in the colony were also horrifically perilous. She survived through a plague in her youth and starvation in the settlement where residents resorted to cannibalism. Even the journey to North America was fraught with danger and her memory of that stormy sea voyage is one of the most powerful scenes in the novel.

Though the girl had one good romantic relationship which she recalls as a precious memory, Groff also meaningfully describes her protagonist's sense of peril as a woman and alludes to how men have taken sexual advantage of her. She conveys how this is an ongoing experience any woman can relate to when she writes “For what woman has not, walking in the dark of the street or along a path deep in the countryside, sensed the brutal imaginings of a man watching her from his hidden place, and felt the same chills chasing over her skin, and quickened her steps to get away.” Though this is a historically set story, elements such as this indicate how some of the issues she experiences are timeless. She was once preyed upon by her mistress' odious son and his friends. The minister her mistress marries is terrifyingly sadistic. Life cast out in the wilderness may be fraught with danger, but so is being a penniless young woman in a male dominated society. Additionally, the girl possesses a natural intelligence and determined manner so it's sobering to think how if she'd been born into a different time period and circumstances she might have flourished.

In interviews Groff has described how she wanted to write a female version of “Robinson Crusoe”. It's effective in paying homage to Defoe's book because it's not only an adventurous tale of survival, but a philosophical journey towards a new understanding of oneself. Spending so much time on her own she develops her own language for the world around her “Naming, she understood, made things more visible” and contemplates a name for herself as “She thought sadly of all her own many names, none of them had ever felt fully hers: Lamentations Callat, Girl, Wench, Zed.” It's impactful how she gradually claims a sense of independent identity. Being so intensely alone she also starts to hear a voice which might be god, nature or a conversation with herself. Through this dialogue she becomes attuned to how she can shrug off inherited notions of the social and cultural order to reclaim and recast the world around her. Yet, at the same time, there's the question of whether life is worth living if you're not part of a community and connected with other people.

Though the story is centred on her perspective, the narrative occasionally shifts to other points of view such as the native Powhatan tribe who observe her from afar or other individuals who form a hermit existence in this wilderness. This broadens the novel into a larger story of how history is made up of many people who fought for survival – some who thrived and some who faltered. It's effective how there are also brief flashes of an authorial viewpoint to describe circumstances the girl doesn't know about and supply some important context. This novel is the second in a proposed thematic trilogy about the uneasy progression of our society across centuries from different women's points of view. It's noted at one point in this novel that “empire has no pity and is never sated.” The first novel in this group was “Matrix” which similarly charted a woman's process of self discovery and sense of community, but in a very different context and different conclusions. I'm so intrigued to see how Groff continues this project, but her immersive and powerful writing is always such a pleasure to read.

The Fraud by Zadie Smith

Zadie Smith's new book “The Fraud” is many things. It's a historical novel primarily set in 19th century London and Jamaica; it's a courtroom drama; it's about an unusual love triangle; it's about the ambition of novelists with some delicious appearances by Charles Dickens who makes bad jokes; it's about the end of slavery in Jamaica; and it's about what happens to truth when viewed through the lens of politics, the media, public debate and the craft of fiction. The story concerns a now semi-obscure historical novelist William Harrison Ainsworth (some of his titles outsold Dickens at the time) and The Tichborne Case, a famous trial that ran from the 1860s to the 1870s concerning a man who claimed to be a missing heir. Though this legal battle captivated the public at the time it's also now nearly forgotten. Between the author and the trial there is this novel's central character Eliza, a widow who is in some ways financially dependent upon Ainsworth. She is his housekeeper and reader. She's an abolitionist who forms a bond with Andrew Bogle, a man born into slavery who is one of the trial's key witnesses. Also, Eliza is fond of a long walk during which she observes Victorian London in tantalizing detail.

Eliza is a shrewd observer sitting in on discussions amongst prominent literary circles and watching the statements made in the courtroom by men whose demeanour often says more than their words. In this way we get a sly view beyond the surface of these interactions and the male dominated society surrounding her. However, as the novel progresses Eliza becomes a figure of intrigue herself. Between her intimate bond with William's deceased first wife Frances, a one-time intimacy with William himself and her late husband's illegitimate family, we get flashes of the truth Eliza either can't or won't openly accept. As the novel moves backwards and forwards in time we follow her journey towards acknowledging the reality of her personal life as well as the larger politics of her society. However, it's challenging to do this when there is so much unconscious misunderstanding and wilful deception surrounding her. She observes how “We mistake each other. Our whole social arrangement a series of mistakes and compromises. Shorthand for a mystery too large to be seen.” With so much confusion concerning what's true about other people's lives, acting in an ethical way can be extremely difficult.

In part, the novel is about how fiction comes to eclipse reality and how public consensus can eclipse truth. William writes historical novels which are based more in his imagination and stereotypes than facts. In this way readers come to know figures from the past through his distortion of the truth. Equally, “The Claimant” at the centre of The Tichborne Case achieves a large following that believes and partly funds his legal defence. Their faith in his claim is partly supported by Andrew Bogle's staunch conviction that “the Claimant” is the heir who went missing at sea. But how can Andrew's understanding of the truth be comprehended without knowing his own backstory or the legacy of slavery that was part of the British colonial empire? Eliza becomes the lynchpin towards seeing through the sensationalism of the case – partly because she has empathy enough to try to get to know Andrew himself. As his fascinating backstory is divulged, Smith shows the more complex personal realities at play within the more prominent public debates.

I had the pleasure of interviewing Smith about her new novel at a pre-publication event.

It's intriguing how this is a historical novel which seems to be critiquing historical novels themselves, the profession of writing and literary circles in general. At the beginning of one chapter, Eliza hilariously reflects: “God preserve me from novel-writing, thought Mrs Touchet, God preserve me from that tragic indulgence, that useless vanity, that blindness!” She sees how William's ambition to write removed him from being more fully involved with his family life (his first wife and his daughters) and his romanticisation of historical events distorts many people's understanding of history. Sitting in on their literary salons she's also privy to the pretensions and backstabbing which occurs amongst authors. In particular, Dickens is shown in quite a critical light. Smith seems highly attentive to the shortcomings of her profession and colleagues while also attempting to show in this novel what the best kind of fiction can do: expand readers' empathy and broaden their point of view to see the larger complexity of things. It's a tricky tightrope to walk and, for the most part, she gets the right balance.

Though Eliza is a highly sympathetic character who exhibits a lot of goodness, by the end of the novel it's shown she has her own shortcomings and areas of blindness. I enjoyed the way the story even gives a rounded view of such side characters as Sarah (the second Mrs Ainsworth) and Henry (Andrew Bogle's son). Their lives are fully fleshed out in many different scenes with witty dialogue and sharp observations. However, the structure of the novel is perhaps a bit too ambitious as it covers a lot of ground over a long period of time. It comes to feel a little unwieldy as the reader is continuously pulled into the past while the narrative also tries to delineate the complex events of the present. However, overall the story contains many moments of pleasure and it's a tale which leaves the reader with a lot to ponder. Like all the best historical fiction, it sparks a curiosity to want to read and understand more about some forgotten corners of the past.

The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O'Farrell

With her latest novel “The Marriage Portrait” Maggie O'Farrell proves that she's one of the finest historical novelists working today. The basis of her inspiration comes from using that classic trick of plucking a semi-obscure figure from the distant past along with a bit of gossip to conjure a tale from between the pages of history. The subject is Lucrezia de' Medici, a noble daughter from Florence who was married to Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara in 1558 when she was only thirteen. A year later she died from what was labelled as “putrid fever” but it was rumoured that she had been murdered by Alfonso. Although this new novel is set in the mid-1500s (only a few decades prior to her previous novel “Hamnet”) the stories are worlds apart. We follow Lucrezia's life as she is born into a busy privileged Italian household and ostracised for being the strange daughter of the family. O'Farrell imaginatively transports readers to this era with sumptuous, lavish, gorgeously-rendered detail of palace life with its many ornate rooms and hidden corridors, trysts and shady dealings and a menagerie of exotic animals kept for Cosimo, the Duke of Tuscany's amusement. When Lucrezia ventures into the depths of the palace to spy upon her father's new acquisition of a tigress she feels a momentary connection with this wild beautiful animal that stirs her spirit.

The narrative alternates between the story of her upbringing and her time at the remote “hunting lodge” of her husband Alfonso when Lucrezia is suddenly convinced “that he intends to kill her.” Is this true? Is she delirious from illness? Is she paranoid? Is there any way she can survive? These questions remain tantalizingly suspended throughout the story until the exhilarating and clever climax. There are so many compelling characters: vain sisters, bratty brothers, a wise nursemaid, seductive suitors, mysterious artists and scheming friends. As heads of the family, Eleanora and her husband Cosimo provide a model example of rulers of the region in their productivity and determination to educate all their children – both the boys and girls. However, their great flaw is underestimating their daughter Lucrezia. Here she is placed at the centre of the novel as the consummate outsider and forgotten child whose artistic talent leaves her teachers in awe. Though this position naturally makes her somewhat lonely, it's also advantageous as she can see the workings of things more clearly from a distance. Lucrezia's keen skills of observation and ability to discern power dynamics serves her well. She probably would have remained sidelined by her siblings if her elder sister Maria hadn't died from illness which means Lucrezia is ushered to take her place in marrying Alfonso.

I felt so drawn into the dynamics of palace life. O'Farrell is very skilful at evoking this period as well as creating a mystery around Alfonso who comes across as so charming but secretive. It's a tribute to the author's ability that she can build such a strong sense of hope while also making readers dread an impending doom. I was kept in suspense throughout while being spellbound by the heady experience of Lucrezia's wealthy but cloistered life. What's especially intriguing about this historical novel is the way the author allows you to see how things could have played out so differently if fate had blown in a different direction. If Maria hadn't died from disease and married Alfonso her outcome would have been very different from Lucrezia's. If Alfonso hadn't been so ruthless in his desire to produce an heir and allowed Lucrezia to become his equal partner, they could have ruled in as harmonious a way as Lucrezia's parents. O'Farrell shows how certain events dictate history, but they don't determine the future. And through the inspiring conclusion she establishes an ingenious way for us to re-view the past.

The New Life by Tom Crewe

Crewe's debut novel begins in the summer of 1894 as John Addington makes the important decision that he won't deny his sexual and romantic longing for men any longer. He's middle aged and married to a woman named Catherine. They have multiple children who are now adults themselves. The few sexual encounters John's previously experienced resulted in repentance and a return to the sublimation of his desires. After he meets a man named Frank at a nude swimming pond in London he longs for the kind of domestic closeness any couple in love wants. Most modern readers will naturally recognise that John has repressed his homosexuality because of Victorian attitudes which not only condemned gay relationships but criminalised them. The consequences of such laws were made famous by Oscar Wilde's 1895 trial which casts a shadow over this story.

Obviously John's life has been painful and we want to see him find happiness. What's so engaging and innovative about this novel is the way it shows the full complexity of trying to obtain such happiness. How do you change laws which criminalise such desire without first dispelling widespread prejudice? How do you change the attitudes of the public without first changing the laws? How do you reconcile your own innate desires within the framework of a society which teaches you to repress them? How much are you willing to obstruct the happiness of others' to achieve your own? Many scenes in this novel are more concerned with the way such questions intrude upon moments of these characters' lives leaving them in a tense state of ambiguity and uncertainty. In doing so, it causes readers to ponder their own assumptions about what is just and what is right.

Running parallel to John's story is that of a shy young man named Henry who enters into a non-traditional marriage with Edith. The couple share a strong intellectual connection and commitment to working towards “the New Life” as Henry feels “we must live in the future we hope to make”. Henry and Edith maintain separate residences as Edith is engaged in a romantic relationship with another woman named Angelica. Henry also has secret sexual proclivities which he finds excruciatingly painful to admit. He exchanges letters with John as they write a book together titled “Sexual Inversion” which seeks to establish an intellectual and medical basis for homosexuality. They hope this will lead to changes in the larger society and help usher everyone into this ideal conception of a “New Life.” However, historical circumstances and the impact this publication has upon people connected to the book dramatically complicate these aims.

These matters create such an intriguing and unexpected plot which plays out over the course of nearly two years in these characters' lives. Crewe's academic speciality for this period of British history gracefully informs the story and imbues it with tantalizing atmospheric detail. It also allows the author to adeptly deviate from historical fact and the actual men who inspired these characters in a way which serves the fiction extremely well. There is a striking scene where London is covered in such a thick fog that boys with lanterns need to be hired to guide people from one spot to another. This fog provides a natural metaphor for the dilemmas of the story as well as a romantic opportunity for desires which ordinarily must be concealed to be expressed in the open. The writing is highly sensuous (as one would hope it would be given the subject matter) and unashamedly captures the object of these characters' desires as well as how their yearnings manifest. It makes it a very sexy novel (albeit in a very English way) falling naturally in line with the work of Alan Hollinghurst.

I found it particularly moving how John has such a strong sense of being watched even in private moments and how this has inhibited him for most of his life. Yet, when he becomes adamant about being open about his desires it impedes upon the lives of others such as his wife Catherine who speaks up at a crucial moment in the story. As total disclosures are made it also turns some who are sympathetic and supportive of John against him. This creates more haunting questions for the reader concerning what liberty we actually possess to confess all that we are to the world. How much honesty can our relationships and larger society take? Equally, the characters' earnest desire to establish a “New Life” compellingly teases out the vaguely shifting lines between being and becoming. There are no easy answers to these problems and by casting us back to a period of history that we believe we've progressed far away from, Crewe cleverly makes clear how the past is actually still present.

Nights of Plague by Orhan Pamuk (translated by Ekin Oklap)

Now and then it is such a pleasure to get lost in a long, immersive and well written epic! I've had this feeling in the past with novels like “The Luminaries” and “The Eighth Life” whose long page counts allow enough space to fully reimagine a bygone era and intricately involve the reader with the many twists of fate a large cast of characters experience over many years. Set during the beginning of the 20th century, “Nights of Plague” sits comfortably alongside these other bewitching tombs. The Ottoman Empire is gradually disintegrating and the Sultan sends a few emissaries including the Royal Chemist, the Sultan's niece Princess Pakize and her doctor husband on a ship bound for China. However, it first stops at the (fictional) island of Mingheria which is suddenly beset by a virulent disease. As the governing forces try to repress rumours of a plague these three characters find themselves closely involved in the resulting chaos which unfolds. The instability causes religious, economic and national divides to come to the surface. Murderous plots, scandalous affairs and grabs for power ensue. Pamuk deftly handles the many threads of his story in a way which is fairly easy to follow, creates plenty of intrigue and reveals many surprises with dramatically gripping scenes. This novels works as both a historical epic and a murder mystery with a Sultan who is hilariously keen on the stories of Sherlock Holmes.

It's narrated from the point of view of Mina Mingher, the fictional female author of this tale, who explains at the start that the book is both a novel and a historical account informed by Princess Pakize's letters and records from Mingheria's past. This authorial voice occasionally comments upon the action and interjects to give context to events. Initially I was worried this device would feel too artificial or complex, but it doesn't intrude so much that it detracts from the pleasure of the narrative. It also raises interesting questions to do with how to account for people's past actions and understand history. The killers in this story can be deduced from evidence given throughout the story, but the real perpetrators behind these crimes and the many plague deaths which result because of government action (or inaction) are a different question. Naturally this history still feels very relevant when viewed next to recent world events. Mina enters into the story itself towards the end of the novel in a pleasing and poignant way.

Alongside the immediate action, I was fascinated by the way this novel depicts the rapid formation and transformation of a country. In its skilful depiction of the rise and fall of governments we also follow the dramatic lives of those who might be the most powerful person in the nation one day and a vilified rogue the next. Like all totalitarian governments a great deal of suppression and torture is used to silence unpopular opinions. It's noted how “You really couldn't solve a problem in the Ottoman Empire without throwing someone in prison.” Through blending Mina's fictional recreations and historical accounts we gain a better sense of the path of justice. We also get a female-centred view of the past and what a possible matriarchy would look like compared to the venal male leaders focused more on power than the welfare of the people. Since she is narrating retrospectively we receive a contextual understanding of events versus the country's myth building which is taught in school and emblazoned on national banners and monuments. It forms into an expansive and impressive chronicle which could have only been created by a masterful storyteller.

Booth by Karen Joy Fowler

In an author's note at the end of this novel Karen Joy Fowler expresses her feelings of ambiguity about fictionally recreating the life of John Wilkes Booth, one of the most notorious figures in US history. He was famed for being a handsome and talented actor until the age of 26 when he became infamous for assassinating President Abraham Lincoln in Ford's Theatre on April 15, 1865. Why give more attention to a fanatic and egotist? This was a defining moment in American history which forever reshaped the country so it's only natural to wonder how it came about. Fowler was interested in the way it affected the rest of Booth's family. She's also haunted by Lincoln's warnings about tyrants and mobs in this country and how this still resonates today. The impetus for this novel which recreates the story of the Booth family also presents a conundrum for the reader who will most likely only know of John Wilkes Booth for a single defining action. Therefore, following the story of his life from birth we're naturally attentive to any action which indicates a propensity for mental instability, extreme views or violence. Fowler peppers the text with such signs and we can only warily witness an emboldened John who states at one point: “It's a wonderful thing... to be right in the middle of something so momentous. To feel that you've touched history and history has touched you.” Unlike the author's previous novel “We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves” which contains a famous twist, there's never any doubt about how “Booth” will end but that makes this story no less gripping.

The thing about significant historical events is that they can come to feel inevitable, but obviously in the present moment we're faced with an infinite number of possibilities. We also cannot know the many repercussions of our actions. Though Fowler describes John as having certain propensities, his family definitely didn't view him as having the potential to be a monster. This novel primarily focuses on the point of view of John's surviving siblings and the dramatic story of their challenging family life leading up to John's murderous action. Their father Junius was a famous Shakespearean actor and a complicated tyrannical larger-than-life figure. On one hand, he was an intelligent artist who respected all life as sacred. On the other, he was bigamist who abandoned his first wife, frequently neglected his family and occasionally drunkenly terrorized his mistress and children. Naturally living under his shadow his children grew to both revere and hate him. It's fascinating reading how they change over time and wrestle with their identities as the offspring of Booth. Crucially, their interactions with John feel like any complicated sibling relationship. There's closeness and distance as well as moments of tenderness and frustration.

In between following the family's development we're also given shorter snippets about Lincoln's personal and political life. This serves as an interesting counterpoint because, just as things could have turned out differently for John, the same is true of Lincoln who was a politically moderate figure in the right place at the right time to become a presidential candidate. Only through his astute reasoning did he decide that the country could not continue and progress while slavery was legal. However, he wasn't certain about whether Whites and African Americans could co-exist in America. Of course, the Emancipation Proclamation was met with a lot of opposition and the issue of slavery embroiled the country in a deadly civil war. But in the novel we see how things could have so easily turned out differently. Additionally the narrative follows the story of an African American family acquainted with the Booths who endeavour over a period of many many years to buy freedom for each of its members. This is only a peripheral strand of the novel but it crucially shows that whatever struggles the Booths encountered, the struggle of many black people in the country was dire. The questions being debated weren't merely political but very personal.

The novel illuminates a number of compelling historical details about the nature of life at the time from conditions in the home to the difficulty of travel before a better infrastructure was in place. Because of Julius and many of his sons' involvement in the theatre there is also an interesting look at the position of theatres within American society at the time. Equally, there was as much drama back stage and in the audience as on the stage itself. I enjoyed the inclusion of Adam, a gay theatre critic who becomes acquainted with the family, and the odd tension which arises between him and Edwin Booth. The novel also illuminates a number of larger historical facts which I wasn't previously aware of such as the distinction between owning and leasing slaves, the harrowing events/tragedy of The Dakota War and the fact that Maryland's state song included derogatory lyrics about Lincoln. It took more than ten attempts over forty years for both houses of the General Assembly to finally vote to abandon this song in 2021.

Does this novel give the definitive reason for John's extremism? Like most shocking occurrences, it shows how there is no one single cause but a multitude of influences and factors which led to this tragedy. Just like his elder sister Rosalie we're left asking “what if” and wonder how events might have turned out very differently. There's no way to control the past or its consequences. Instead, Fowler shows the hidden complexities of the past and the nuance of personalities who could easily be flattened into certain types. Like all great historical fiction, this story breathes life into the past and imaginatively fills in the gaps between known facts to show we're not disconnected from history. John Wilkes Booth might be anyone's brother and the violence which occurred following a monumental readjustment of power in the US will likely happen again.

Matrix by Lauren Groff

I was in the middle of reading a much-acclaimed new novel recently and the experience was dragging because I wasn't gripped by it so I decided to put it aside and pick up Lauren Groff's new novel “Matrix” instead. French lesbian nuns in the 12th century! This is what I need! That's not to say that it's appealing just for the subject matter. The story delves into the mind and heart of its heroine Marie de France in such a compelling and complex way that I'm still pondering the larger meaning of this tale. On the surface it's very different from “Fates and Furies” which is the only other novel I've read by Groff. Yet, it's a continuation in the way this author so cleverly and sympathetically elevates the stories of women who mostly appear in the margins of storytelling. 

The novel begins with Marie, an illegitimate child of the royal court being written out of history as she's sent to permanently live and work as a prioress in a dilapidated and impoverished abbey in Angleterre. In this foreign land and in circumstances much more humble than the life she lived before she's meant to quietly reside out of sight from larger society. But Marie is a large woman - both in body and spirit and she's going to make her presence known. As we follow the story of her long life we see how she not only reinvigorates this rundown countryside abbey but establishes a sisterhood among the nuns who live there. It's a vividly told and dramatic tale which takes the richness of its protagonist's inner life as a given because she has so much more to offer than the opportunities she's given. Yet, the novel also really excels in how it interrogates the way Marie might unknowingly contribute society's rocky evolution.

It did take me a bit of time to get into the rhythm of this story because it moves swiftly through the years and there's a large cast of women to keep up with. Given the time period the average lifespan wasn't too long so often newly introduced figures don't last long while others continue to appear in the background. As soon as Marie becomes really established at the abbey and makes it into a profitable enterprise the novel leaps forward to much later in her life when she's going through menopause. This felt jarring at first but I suppose so much of her life is made up of routines which are only punctuated by some dramatic events such as an attempted siege of the abbey by a gang of resentful locals and the holy visions which occasionally overcome Marie. These inspire her to make dramatic changes, but are they really decreed by the mother of God or are they driven by Marie's own ambition and ego? This question is dynamically explored as the abbey comes to take a prominent place in an increasingly capitalist society. I really appreciate how this book presents the way economic changes on local levels gradually spread to affect civilization as a whole in a way similarly referred to in the novel “Cathedral” by Ben Hopkins.

Rather than living humbly the nuns find themselves with better garments and more to eat than the locals. Marie's decisions and authority start to feel more tyrannical than being concerned with the welfare of the community or even her sisters. She's also motivated by a wish to impress queen Eleanor who she's been (romantically?) infatuated with since she was a teenager participating in the crusades. The way both Marie and some of the other nuns psychologically and spiritually rationalize and act upon their romantic and sexual needs is handled in a really fascinating way. The majority of women at the abbey are people who don't fit in anywhere else because of how they look or their personalities or their position in society, yet they find bonds here which are mutually fulfilling: “in this enclosure there is love enough here even for the most unlovable women.” Of course, there are still petty arguments, disagreements and long-held grievances as there would be amongst any group of people. But the way Groff writes about the complexity of their inner and outer lives shows that these women weren't simply a benign presence in the wings of history.

The Sweetness of Water by Nathan Harris

It's difficult to visualize how a monumental shift in society such as the end of the American Civil War changed the ways in which people related to one another in their communities, but Nathan Harris has imagined one such story in his debut novel “The Sweetness of Water”. Brothers Landry and Prentiss were born into slavery at a Georgia plantation. Though they have left as free men they don't yet have the foundation to build independent lives for themselves and dwell in the forest of a nearby farm owned by a kindly rotund white man named George. While on the plantation Landry suffered immeasurable daily abuse which left him with injuries so severe he can barely speak. Both he and Prentiss also still suffer from the loss of their mother. Since George and his wife Isabelle are also dealing with their own grief and planning how to manage their property for the future, they invite these men to work with them so that they may all prosper. But the brothers' former owner still thinks of them as his property, the locals are wary that the newly freed slaves will take their work from them and a secret love affair threatens to disrupt the social order of this community. The novel follows a series of heartrending events which result from these conflicts and how individuals struggle to insist upon their rightful place in this newly reformed society. 

Though the central characters are sensitively drawn with many quiet, contemplative moments and evocative dialogue, there's something about this story which failed to fully capture my imagination. I think it's to do with how the high drama of the plot felt so tightly controlled in a way that seemed more manufactured than logical. I felt very sympathetic with the story which describes the lives and struggles of people not often portrayed in fiction. The lag between emancipation and the freedom to live as truly equal citizens is a struggle which carries on to this day so although it's a historical novel it feels extremely relevant. It's necessary to consider why this transition is so slow to occur and to realise that there are so many individuals throughout history who've suffered and continue to suffer as a result of the established caste system as described in Isabel Wilkerson's influential book. “Conjure Women”, another debut novel published last year, also imagined the uneasy transition in the years immediately following the Civil War or “FreedomTime” as she labels it in her novel. Nathan Harris presents another compelling point of view but the reach of its story feels too restrained by author's need to tidily bring about a conclusion for the compelling main characters.

I'm always interested in fiction set in the distant past which imagines how queer people would have negotiated intimacy within a social environment which condemned such relationships. Harris presents an example of such an interesting situation, but the gay couple didn't feel entirely believable to me as their interactions often seemed staged for the story. Sections of the novel I absolutely loved were scenes where Landry is able to find rare moments of respite in nature. Harris vividly describes the liberation Landry experiences in a space removed from the expectations and judgements of the community. Unfortunately, we're jolted out of this and other such moments in the novel a little too abruptly. This jostling pace combined with some unnecessarily simplified minor characters detracted from the subtly of emotion found in the author's otherwise excellent writing. Though it always sounds condescending, I think this is a very promising first novel. It's brilliant the author has achieved such success with the attention it's received from Oprah, Obama and being listed for this year's Booker Prize. I hope there's more to come.

Light Perpetual by Francis Spufford

In November 1944 a German rocket exploded in a working class area of South London killing many civilians. It's haunting to wonder what would have happened if those lives hadn't been lost. Francis Spufford takes this as the basis of his novel “Light Perpetual” where he imaginatively “rescues” five children from this fate and fictionally builds the full trajectory of their lives complete with all their respective triumphs, failures, passions and disappointments. Each section leaps forward in time by fifteen years to give snapshots not only of how their lives have changed but how our culture and society has evolved over time. I immediately felt sympathetic to this structure as it's very similar to my favourite novel “The Waves” by Virginia Woolf – though Spufford's fiction uses a more straightforward prose style and focuses on a class of people Woolf didn't often represent in her fiction. Not only does this consistently compelling alternative history spotlight the varied lives and concerns of this working class area of London, but it queries the way in which our social circumstances affect or determine our choices and views in life. 

I admire the statement the author makes by nobly filling out five lives which aren't memorialised in any way other than as part of a number that perished during a WWII attack. However, a concern I had while reading was that if you took off the very beginning and very end of this book it wouldn't be any different from a straightforward historical novel following a group of people over the course of their lives. I wondered if this meant its central concept is more of a gimmick than something which is artfully woven into the texture of its story. But I think Spufford is making an interesting point in these lives which interact with historical events and other lives to subtly change the state of the world in ways we wouldn't necessarily notice. Many alternate histories such as “The Alteration” by Kingsley Amis or “The Plot Against America” by Philip Roth imaginatively construct a story based on vast political changes involving famous figures. What Spufford does is more subtle and challenging because it asks in what way unsung figures alter and influence the world.

Though I was engaged with most of these characters' stories and enjoyed following the curious paths their lives take over many years, my main issue with the novel is that I found some more interesting than others and the periods of time we follow them through sometimes pass too quickly. Some storylines which gripped me the most include one character's synaesthesia and how it influences her development as a musician, another character's struggle with mental illness which leads him into an agonizing circular thought process and another character's dangerous attraction towards a man who is a white supremacist. However, I was less engaged by stories involving a property developer con artist with a penchant for Maria Callas and a typesetter who gets involved with print union battles. I realise my preferences come down to personal taste, but it's an issue that often comes with novels which encompass storylines involving multiple characters. I also felt some transitions between sections were a little heavy handed. For instance, a scene with a horrific racist attack is immediately followed by a romantic sex scene involving a mixed race couple.

However, the overall effect of this book is quite moving especially as it describes the transition we all must make towards death and relinquishing our place in the world. It consistently offers many surprises and delights in the unexpected avenues the characters' lives take. The novel also poignantly describes how our lives are never limited to one path or another but contain multiple possibilities which sprawl out in many different directions at every instant of our lives. There's something beautifully hopeful about this.

The Great Mistake by Jonathan Lee

There's a strange irony in how a man's influence can be felt everywhere in a city, but the man himself is mostly unknown. Andrew Haswell Green was considered “the Father of Greater New York”. He was a city planner responsible for some of the city's most notable landmarks and institutions including Central Park, the New York Library and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. This businessman and lawyer created a tremendous legacy, but when he was 83 years old he became the victim of a strange murder case which occurred in 1903. The mystery surrounding the inner life of this figure is the subject of Jonathan Lee's new novel “The Great Mistake” and Green comes to feel like a chimera the author is chasing in order to understand him – even when Green seems not to know himself. The story is framed around the peculiar circumstances of his death and gradually we come to discover the motive behind it, but the real enigma is Green's inexpressible desire which accompanies him throughout his life and never finds fulfilment. In this way, Lee captures a tender sense of loneliness and these grand spaces for the public good which Green created are underlined by a solemn yearning for human connection. 

Green comes from humble beginnings and we follow the story of his life as he works his way up in the world. But he comes to ruefully look back at the trajectory of his ascent when asked to recount it to people around him: “People liked all that Dickensian nonsense.” Though Dickens earnestly wanted his readers to pity his characters, Green repels such sentimental notions though we come to sympathize with how his father rejected him, the gruelling ordeal of his apprenticeship and the intimacy which always seemed to elude him. Whenever he becomes emotionally and physically close to other men in his life, the connection is severed with a warning. Wrapped in this is a desire which the narrative itself never names but is felt everywhere. Lee embeds in his prose a sensuality which is intense even if it isn't explicit: “Their shadows touched on the ground.” As such the author describes an intangible wanting which mirrors the state of Green's consciousness. His queerness is not labelled because Green wouldn't have described himself that way but it is coded in descriptions of his relationship with his mentor Samuel who is “his most beloved friend”.

What's interesting is that although being gay has come to be understood as a badge which should be defiantly worn to insist upon social acceptance, there are other dynamics which admit the nature of being a homosexual without naming it. I found it touching the way this novel portrays Green's relationship with his brother where a misunderstanding divides them but it shows how his brother accepts Green in a way he didn't expect. Though tacit forms of approval come with their own hazards, this shows how the real issue perhaps comes from Green's unwillingness to admit or accept his own desires and state of being. Trauma certainly leads to suppression, but Lee suggests early in the novel that Green is almost fated never to live the life he really desires: “At times what he felt, late at night, during these years, was a kind of helpless nostalgia, an emotion that he knew he had not yet earned. But it wasn't nostalgia for times he had already lived through. It was nostalgia for versions of himself he hadn't yet been.”

As a counterpoint to Green's character is the enigmatic figure of Bessie Davis who is haplessly linked to the murder case. She's a fascinating person who perhaps deserves a novel herself, but though her profession demands intimacy it comes with no affection. As such her fulfilment is not found with others: “She had never felt lonely when alone. It was simply not a sensation she had ever in her life experienced. But the loneliness she felt in the presence of other people? That indeed was a force.” In both these characters we get a sense of personalities who must uncomfortably navigate a society which doesn't accept them or allow them to succeed by being fully themselves. As such they must carve and build physical spaces which permit possibilities that they themselves can never entirely realise. There's a chilling moment towards the end of the novel when Green enters a subterranean space of the city and finds there a comfort which he never felt on the surface. I enjoyed how this poignant novel elegantly describes the tension between our inner and outer reality which can make us strangers even to ourselves.

You can read a preview of the novel here: https://www.jellybooks.com/cloud_reader/previews/the-great-mistake_9781783786244/L3Leb

Still Life by Sarah Winman

I find something very moving about stories of intergenerational friendships. Novels such as “Autumn” by Ali Smith and “The Offing” by Benjamin Myers describe profound connections between individuals who are at very different stages of life but establish a rapport that obliterates traditional social divides based on age, gender or sexuality. Sarah Winman has explored such a relationship before in her novel “A Year of Marvellous Ways” where an eccentric ninety-year-old woman and a soldier who just returned from fighting in France form an unlikely bond. In her new novel “Still Life” a similar dynamic is established at the beginning of the story when Evelyn Skinner, a 60-something art historian and Ulysses Temper, a young British soldier meet in Tuscany during wartime. This fleeting but profound encounter sticks with them both over the years. When he returns to England Ulysses discovers his early love affair and marriage to free-spirited Peg has inalterably changed during the time he's been away at war. Meanwhile, Evelyn fights for the preservation of art while musing upon the early years of her life when she fell in love with Florence and a woman who taught her more than Italian. We follow their lives over the decades from the mid-40s to the late 70s as their lives separately develop and society changes. 

While I found the interactions between Ulysses and Evelyn (and, later on, between Peg's daughter Alys and Evelyn) touching, I felt somewhat ambivalent about the way the narrative keeps them separated and then draws them together again through coincidence. There was something artificial and controlled about this device which makes a game of how they come close to encountering each other on numerous occasions before finally reuniting. Similarly, there's a whimsical nature to Winman's style of characterisation which kept me at a bit of a distance from many of the personalities in this story and meant I never fully believed in them. This was especially true when it came to a blue-feathered parrot named Claude who likes to quote Shakespeare and performs near-fantastical feats. I wanted to love them yet never found myself completely falling for them. This was dismaying because I love to read about unconventional personalities in historical novels which bring colour to a history which too often feels black and white. People who break social boundaries and live their own truth aren't often memorialised so I appreciate how stories like this try to forge connections across time.

One of the most dramatic and striking sections of the book concerns the 1966 flood of the Arno in Florence. This is brought vividly to life as people hastened to preserve themselves and the vast treasures of art the city holds. It also reinforced the moving sentiment of the book concerning how life and culture can be so quickly obliterated due to war or natural disasters. However, I felt the most successful and poignant section of the novel is the final part which suddenly switches back to the beginning of the century when a young Evelyn first arrives in Florence. Here we see the details of a past she anecdotally recalled at the novel's start concerning the sentimental importance of a pressed flower and her fleeting interactions with the writer E.M. Forster. After following Evelyn as an endearingly eccentric older lady throughout the bulk of the novel to suddenly see her as a naïve love-struck expat who discovers herself in a foreign city was very moving and beautifully rendered. It was a very good way to end this predominantly enjoyable novel that breathes new life into the past.

Cathedral by Ben Hopkins

When going on holidays to foreign European cities I'll sometimes visit cathedrals as this seems like the thing tourists should do. I remember walking through a cathedral in Portugal and passing an Irishman who impatiently sighed to his friend “I don't wanna visit another feckin church.” I too wander around their cool-aired interiors staring up in befuddled wonder, gazing at the majesty of it all but uncertain why I'm visiting a centuries-old monument. Even if I'm impressed by its beauty and stature I can't help thinking how such solemn grandeur must have demanded considerable sacrifice and been built with untold backbreaking labour. 

The impetus for Ben Hopkins' novel “Cathedral” is the construction of a principle church for the diocese in the fictional German town of Hagenburg. Taking place over the 1200s & 1300s, it follows the lives of several characters from many different levels of society whose fortunes rise and fall over time. Even after a century as bishops and popes come and go, the cathedral still hasn't been completed because of frequent societal tumult, a lack of funds and the complexity of building such a structure. Its place at the centre of the novel is more symbolic because the real focus of this impressive and immersive historical novel is a shift in society as capitalist opportunities disrupt the feudal system which governed Europe during that time. Enterprising peasants ascend in power to challenge the nobility and feckless noblemen find themselves ousted by opportunists. However, religious and political instability means that no one's status is secure and it's thrilling to follow the fates of the many fascinating characters who we encounter.

The novel is organized into four parts with chapters switching focus between a number of individuals. Some characters are revisited at a later date and others meet an untimely end. Given the pervasive violence of the time it's not surprising many lives are cut short. It's touching how a character who dies is memorialised by the author at the end of a chapter with the dates of their birth and death. Chance and circumstance play into who makes it or doesn't so it's tense seeing who survives and who perishes over the years. Initially I struggled to follow some of the storylines and keep track of the many characters as it's quite an epic and complicated tale. At one point I went back to reread several chapters to straighten out some factors and the dramatic consequences of certain events, but it was well worth doing this as it builds to an extremely worthwhile and wondrous story. I only wish a character list with brief descriptions had been included at the beginning of the book as this would have been a useful reference while reading the novel.

Three primary characters emerge from a serf family to ascend to different levels of wealth and achievement. Two brothers and a sister use their cunning and intelligence to establish themselves in different parts of this community. Following their progress we get a glimpse into various factions of society which alternately bargain, betray and fight with one another. We also come to see the personal expense and compromises which must be made as these characters encounter the pervasive sexist, homophobic and anti-Semitic attitudes. It's particularly fascinating to read how Christian and Jewish communities who couldn't openly do business with each other found ways around the restrictions by using intermediaries. Other sections describe how defending religion is used as an excuse to legally pillage wealthy groups of people to fund the expense of constructing the cathedral. The intimidating bishop's treasurer Eugenius von Zabern ominously remarks “God forgive me, but there could be good revenue in this heresy hunt.” Whether the persecuted are heretics or not is often beside the point because the religious powers see the potential financial and political gains from the accused.

I grew attached to many of the vibrant personalities in this novel whether they were villainous or virtuous, but I was particularly impressed with the way in which the author sympathetically portrays the life of a gay man who manages to maintain a same sex relationship for a period of time. Ben Hopkins stays true to how each character is a complex individual with many different parts to their identity while also showing how their sensibilities are shaped by the circumstances and ideologies of this time period. It's what makes reading this historical novel such an immersive experience. There are also small enticing mysteries scattered throughout the book such as a missing intricate drawing for a grand window and the unknown identity of a bandit leader. As well as telling a thrilling story this is also a contemplative book which raises deeper questions about how politics came to be so driven by capitalism and how the complexity of history can be smoothed out by the dominant narrative. The cathedral comes to symbolize so much more than an achievement of construction built for religious glory. It's also the product of political manoeuvring and the remnant of a powerful leader's ego. At one point Eugenius wonders 'What is this new cathedral but the product of vanity?' I doubt I'll regard any cathedral I visit in the future with the same bland passivity because there must be countless stories attached to ever block of stone that went into it. “Cathedral” is a truly wondrous, entertaining and clever novel that's given me a new perspective.

Circus of Wonders by Elizabeth Macneal

The 2017 cult hit film 'The Greatest Showman' inspired marginalized people about the solace that can be found by establishing your own community with others who don't fit in with larger society. But it also perpetuated a dangerous mythology about P.T. Barnum as a showman who wholeheartedly believed in this ethos and deeply cared about the welfare of the performers in his freak shows and circuses. Elizabeth Macneal's new novel “Circus of Wonders” presents a more complicated fictional story of such an impresario with Jasper Jupiter who in 1866 aspires to create a show that will eclipse Barnum in its success and draw Queen Victoria to attend. He does this through mercenary exchanges purchasing individuals with physical aberration from their families, tyrannically working his crew and making dangerous deals to enhance the spectacles. Though this egotist's circus is at the centre of this novel, Macneal primarily focuses instead on the points of view of two far more sympathetic characters. 

A young woman named Nell feels isolated in her community because of birthmarks which speckle her skin and, though she's kidnapped by Jupiter, she comes to embrace the circus' opportunities and the sense of importance which comes from being refashioned into a wonder known as the “Queen of the Moon and Stars”. But she soon realises that this isn't necessarily an empowering form of celebrity, her newfound freedom has limitations and the public's adulation has a sinister side. Jasper's brother Toby has always been the more awkward and less favoured of the pair. From an early age they hatched a dream of forming a circus together, but Jasper's ambition supersedes his brotherly love and there hangs between them a secret from their days being involved in the Crimean War. The complicated relationship between Nell and Toby plays out amidst the rise to fame of Jupiter's Circus of Wonders.

It's a dramatic and moving tale which delves into the moral ambiguities which arise when people who have been diminished by their families and communities seek to achieve independence through the only methods which are available to them. I have a natural affinity for tales of circus life and one of my favourite novels is Angela Carter's “Nights at the Circus” so I was instantly drawn into Macneal's story. As with her debut novel “The Doll Factory”, she has a wonderful talent for vividly creating a sense of history within her fiction and evoking how it might have felt dealing with the struggles that these individuals faced in particular periods of the past. By referencing iconic fairy tales within the novel, Macneal reminds us that these are stories of wondrous magic but they also have a dark heart and timeless lessons about the price of obtaining what you most desire.