I like the style of writing in this book; I found it drew me in and made me feel involved in the characters. I did, however, feel slightly frustrated with how the stories are interspersed and that a dramatic occurrence was often not referred to again for many chapters eg, we learn of Sister Mary Joseph facing death on the operating table but then the reader is led away to Dr Hemlatha on a plane and all the details of her life, when I was wanting to continue with the drama unfolding around the Sister.

I very much enjoyed the book, to my surprise. I did feel apprehensive that it would all be about distressing things such as war and famine and not contain anything positive or uplifting at all, but that wasn’t the case. There are difficulties to be faced at times in Ethiopia but the author doesn’t labour the point or make the reader feel uncomfortable.

I like the character of Marion and how he conducts his life; trying to be true to himself and his conscience, and determined to emulate and be faithful to his ‘father’ Ghosh, and his determination to be a surgeon even though he is trying to make his way in the foreign country of America. When Marion was ill, I actually found myself reaching for the tissues.

The book is well written with believable characters and is an epic piece of work, and I much admire the research the author must have done to produce such a detailed book. It struck me that this was a story that was a huge and very important one for the author to tell, and this passion and dedication comes through the pages. Definitely a remarkable book.

I was surprised at how harsh a landscape Australia is and how difficult (in fact, almost impossible) it is to scratch a living there and all the barriers such as the intense heat, the years without rainwater, the often deadly insects – it all made me wonder if humans should actually be living there.

I have never seen the TV programme of the book, but will definitely get myself a copy.

I wasn’t really expecting much from this book as I’m not a science-fiction/fantasy fan, but the story gripped me right from the start and I can (and will!) happily enthuse about the book to anyone. I like the way it is written as someone’s account, like a diary almost, and I like the character of Mike Watson and his wife Phyllis, and I enjoyed the unfolding mysteriousness of the story.

I admire the way the action and drama is interspersed with long periods of inactivity and debate and uncertainty, as I felt this built up the tension and also seemed more realistic as there often is a great deal of planning and checking and disagreement and stalling by authorities when action needs to be taken. The slowness of people to believe a disaster is taking place and what form that threat was taking also seemed realistic and I think this would be just how people would be likely to react; by refusing to accept that it is the action of aliens and spending a great deal of time looking desperately for alternative solutions.

I found it very thought-provoking that many of the disasters and threats detailed in this story written decades ago mirror our fears today and the threat to our world, such as the rising of the seas (although not, I’m fairly certain, caused by aliens!).

A very enjoyable and intelligent and unusual book with plenty of tension and terror, and I am full of admiration for such a well-told story – and definitely made aware again not to prejudge a book.

This was an interesting book; it didn’t grab me at first but it did get a bit more gripping when Teddy’s crime was about to be discovered. I found it interesting that the main characters of the book changed in importance as the book progresses, and I wouldn’t say it was a book particularly about Teddy as the first part of the book has Clara and Hugo as the main characters and the end of the book is more about Crystal, and yet other characters that seem important such as Teddy’s wife Susan are dispatched surprisingly abruptly – I was interested in the author’s thinking behind this.

I was also very intrigued by Teddy’s choice of crime, i.e. abusing the trust of elderly clients, and whether this was related in some way to his childhood where his trust was abused by his parents/elders. And I found it interesting to search for the reasons behind Teddy’s crime, i.e. his attempt to provide the security for his family that he never experienced as a child.

I did have this labelled in my mind as a pretty ordinary book, but I find after I have finished it that I am thinking over the content of it more and more and becoming more aware of interesting things in it.

I feel a bit guilty saying this but I find myself not feeling any sympathy for Isabelle and really struggling to like her; if she’d suffered some kind of trauma that had caused her to react in this way then I could understand it, but there doesn’t seem to have been any such trauma – on the contrary, this inability to speak seems (to me) to be more stubbornness mixed with a personal desire to reach a target of days of non-speaking. I couldn’t help feeling as I was reading the book that she was just a stubborn and indulged child who realised she had power over her parents, and she could speak if she had chosen to and it just suited her not to (being more generous, perhaps it had gone too far for her to easily correct and she then didn’t feel in control of it herself which obviously would have caused her distress). I felt huge sympathy for her parents who were bending over backwards for her and desperately worried and who had turned their lives upside down for her, risking their marriage and careers and totally taken over by their concerns for her to the detriment of everything else.

At times Isabelle seemed quite selfish, eg if she doesn’t get what she wants such as the breakfast in the café or the visit to the giftshop museum because she doesn’t voice her desires then she is angry and sulks, yet she won’t talk and express her wants and she just expects her parents to guess and then punishes them when they don’t guess correctly. I can see that perhaps Isabelle’s silence is due to a control issue, much as anorexia, and I do want to feel sorry for her but I can’t decide if she could speak and just chooses not to or if she is unable to control it and it is a symptom of an illness or problem. Yet another part of me thinks it is for attention and effect. She is an interesting character as I think she is aware of the distress she is causing her parents and she seems to hate herself for this, so I’m intrigued by the fact that she’s aware of others’ feelings as this doesn’t seem the act of a selfish person, and also the hating herself could be then adding to some kind of depression she is suffering. I am interested in the fact her parents have been told she hasn’t got Asperger’s or Autism as her love of order and routine would seem to possibly point to this.

I was intrigued as to how the author wants the reader to view Isabelle – is it to sympathise with her or to disapprove of her? And is it Isabelle’s story and experiences being told or is it her parents’, and who does the author want us to sympathise with? My sympathy throughout the book is definitely with the parents and I struggle to feel any sympathy for Isabelle.

I find Isabelle’s thoughts and logic and comments on things and people she sees very interesting, I’m not sure if they’re the thoughts of an 11 year old as they seem very considered and mature. Perhaps Isabelle is more mature than other 11 year olds and her thought processes have developed with the loss of her voice, but I wonder if they are actually the author’s thoughts and this would explain why they don’t read right and seem quite adult thoughts in a child’s mind (I personally think this is the case, which explains the slightly unbelievable feel to Isabelle’s thoughts). I also wonder if the author has any experience with mental issues in children, as it doesn’t really read like it to me.

At the end of the book, my thoughts were the same as Isabelle’s mum’s – that if Isabelle does speak again it doesn’t mean then that the whole dreadful experience is behind them; Isabelle could go silent again if her parents do anything to upset or anger her. Therefore the potential of her being silent again would be a very powerful threat or weapon present all the time – as mum says, “A march through a minefield where any misstep might be the end of them.” A child shouldn’t have that level of power and control over their parents.

So, all in all, this book made me think a great deal and was interesting to read, but there seemed a few inconsistencies that bothered me.

The description on the back of the book gave no hint that this was some kind of fantasy/supernatural story instead of a normal detective ‘whodunnit’ story so I wasn’t prepared at all for stories of the Devil and Hell and possession, etc, and I probably wouldn’t have picked up the book if this had been apparent to me, but perhaps O’Neill is known for these types of books.

I think Robert is fast becoming one of my favourite male characters in literature; he is such a fair and considerate person who can empathise with others’ feelings; he is able to appreciate the consequences of his actions, as he knows the course he is pursuing will bring a guilty person to justice and avenge his friend yet he knows the discovery of the truth will cause pain to other innocent people he cares for; he is honest with himself and questions his own motives before he acts rather than just having blind confidence in himself (which is a contrast to the often high level of arrogance and self belief common in rich male characters of that day with their unquestioned rights and power); he also questions his own character to determine whether his suspicions are fact or are all just imaginings by a lonely bachelor; he recognises his own weaknesses in being tempted to abandon his investigations and go back to his easy life; he is generous with his money, tipping waiters liberally; he is kind-hearted, taking in stray dogs; he has a strong moral code as he won’t question a child even though he knows he’ll gain information from the boy’s innocent answers. I do wonder if these admirable qualities of Robert are actually present because it is a woman writing a man’s words and thoughts.

I adore Mary Braddon’s phrasing (and therefore Robert’s); her words are so thoughtful and accurate and beautifully put. I was quite touched by many of Robert’s thoughts, and some of the ones that stay in my mind include when he is considering how rare it is to find complete happiness and says if a man was to make, “a calculation of his existence… in which he has been thoroughly happy… really entirely at his ease… without the most infinitesimal cloud to overshadow the brightness of his horizon… and discovers the pitiful smallness of the amount. He will have enjoyed himself for a week or ten days in thirty years perhaps.” Also when Robert is considering his love for his uncle and says, “grateful affection was so much a part of himself that it seldom found an outlet in words.” And his thoughts on the subject of women made me smile, “To call them the weaker sex is to offer a hideous mockery. They are the stronger sex, the noisier, the more persevering, the most self-assertive sex.”

I was a bit uneasy with the diagnosis of Lady Audley’s madness, as it seemed as if all her actions and behaviours can therefore be explained away by this illness rather than the possibility that she may just be selfish and conniving and comfortable with hurting people. Robert certainly seems keen to adopt this convenient label of ‘madness’ as this means there is then no criminal trial and his uncle’s name is protected. I initially thought the author was taking the easy way out with a convenient solution and I was disappointed as the story seemed of a higher quality than that, but I wonder now if she is actually sarcastically pointing out to the reader how commonly used this diagnosis was at the time.

This is a very interesting and admirable book with an unusual story, particularly for the time it was written.

I found this quite a confusing book to read, however, as one chapter speaks in the third person talking about what Alice is doing, the next chapter speaks in the first person talking about “I” for Alice, and then another chapter will be from her mum’s life (Ann) or Grandma Elspeth. The book also seems to jump around in time from Alice at present day, to her university life, to being a child at home, to working for the Literature Trust and meeting John, therefore when each chapter begins it isn’t immediately apparent which time period the story is being told from and I found this quite disjointed and frustrating to read, but I did wonder if it was a clever way of representing how Alice’s thoughts were jumping around when she was in a coma (but then I would have thought every sentence would have been phrased “I”, plus Alice wouldn’t have been able to describe mum’s and grandma’s activities). I can appreciate that the jumping around from narrator to narrator does contribute to the building of tension and it was useful to see things from different characters’ perspectives, however when the devastating event was finally revealed I found I had to go back to the beginning of the book to re-read all of Alice’s accounts as at the first reading I’d been too confused to take all the detail in.

I had thought this was going to be just a chick-lit book, but it is so much more than that; it is a gripping book and a very touching one and I did enjoy it (but I found the writing style a little annoying and off-putting).

It is a novel full of mysteries and, having read The Angel’s Game, I fully anticipated these mysteries not being tidily explained at the end of the story; I therefore found myself frantically trying to remember all the different names and the little bits of information and odd situations mentioned in the hope it would help me tie it all together later, but the novel is also so beautifully written that I felt I didn’t want to rush through it to get to the solution at the end. All the characters in the novel seem connected to Julian Carax in some way, and I constantly felt I wasn’t seeing the full story.

I loved the atmospheric descriptions of old Barcelona and its streets and history, although I was alarmed at the details of the regime in place at the time and particularly the fear that Barcelona’s residents had of the police (an organisation that I have always expected to alleviate fear and intimidation, not cause it). At the time of the novel, the beautiful city of Barcelona doesn’t seem a safe place to live at all and is one where people can be spirited away if they say or do something out of turn.

This is a very interesting book; very involving and enjoyable. I did constantly feel throughout that I was missing some vital clue enabling me to understand everything going on, and am looking forward to reading it again. I think when comparing The Shadow of the Wind to The Angel’s Game I would say I preferred the latter, mostly because this was so incredibly involved and had so many threads that kept me pondering about it long after I’d finished the book, but I think The Angel’s Game is one of those rare books that don’t come along that often.

I love the brilliant touch of the children’s nursery rhyme on the wall of the ten boys and how each dies until ‘then there were none’, and the deaths of the people on the island following the order and manner of the deaths in the rhyme – what a excellent way to build tension; knowing someone else will be killed and having a rough idea of how, and being completely unable to prevent it or to escape. I also love the ten statues on the table, with one disappearing each time a person dies.

What an imagination this author has. This is the type of book you could easily read in one sitting, and one I’d be surprised if any reader guessed the solution of. Totally ingenious, and possibly her very best book.

This is a light and very enjoyable read and, as with all her books in my view, you can depend on enjoying it thoroughly.

It feels very much like a book of contrasts as the doctor and Roseanne seem to be very similar but very different; he is writing about losing his wife and his worries about their relationship before he lost her, at the same time Roseanne is writing about her relationships; he makes it obvious that he and his wife couldn’t have children and remembers his wife doesn’t want to be where children are, and Roseanne remarks on her remembrances on Strandhill Beach where she sees children everywhere, she also seems to have borne a child but then ended up being childless and this causes her as much pain as the doctor’s wife; and there are even small similarities such as both the doctor’s wife and Roseanne like and tend for their roses.

The book is tantalising as it keeps giving hints on why Roseanne was sectioned, both in Roseanne’s remembrances and in the documents the doctor discovers, but the whole details are never revealed to the reader all at once.

I found it very intriguing that the doctor’s and Roseanne’s telling of her early life don’t tally, eg, the doctor read that Roseanne’s father was a policeman whereas she talks of him as a gravedigger and a rat-catcher and is upset when the doctor refers to him as a policeman, and the circumstances behind her father’s death differ wildly. I found myself spending a lot of time pondering which one was the correct account and for what reason there could be an incorrect one. It also occurred to me that if Roseanne’s account was the incorrect one then how much can the reader believe of the rest of her account, which is the larger part of the book, and if her account is incorrect is this due to her forgetfulness and vagueness or by her deliberately misleading the reader and perhaps also herself? However, the doctor’s account is by Father Gaunt who is the man who caused Roseanne to be committed and seemed to want to destroy her and who seemed malicious and able to abuse his huge power, so would his motives and therefore account be impartial and accurate?

I did feel a sense of foreboding throughout reading the book as it is obvious that unpleasant things have happened to Roseanne, and I felt almost anxious each time I turned a page as to whether these were about to be revealed. I was also very surprised at the twist at the end of the book as I didn’t guess this.

A couple of other points that struck me about the book was that it made me realise that I don’t really know much about Irish history and so I felt that the parts of the book relating to this rather went over my head, and I was also intrigued to see another of the author’s books is The Whereabouts of Eneas McNulty as Eneas is quite an important character in The Secret Scripture, so I would be interested to read this book also.

I found this a very readable book and quite a clever one. I thought it was similar to The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox as it deals with similar subjects and I had read both books quite close in time to one another. However, I think I prefer the Esme Lennox book.

The narrator seems to understand the ghosts’ meanings as if they have spoken, when they haven’t; similarly she seems to be able to understand the children’s knowledge of the ghosts without the children needing to state this knowledge which I found to be a huge leap of assumptions. In fact, nothing specific seems to be stated or indeed learnt, and I find this confusing to read; it all just feels like assumptions and I kept wondering if I’d understood their assumptions correctly and I felt like I was guessing all the time. It also puzzles me how readily the narrator believes the children have been influenced/possessed by ghosts, and yet she seems to think that no-one else will readily believe this so therefore doesn’t tell anyone or apply to anyone for help, which seems very inconsistent. I also found the conclusion just as puzzling as the rest of the book; is Flora now free from the ghosts once she has been taken away from the house, in which case why weren’t both children taken away earlier? Is Miles dead at the end, in which case I wanted further explanations such as how did she explain his death and was she suspected of being involved in his death?

It is a gripping story, but my over-riding feeling is dissatisfaction at the vagueness of it, the lack of explanations, and the readiness of the narrator to assume things. Having spoken to other people about the book, however, I am advised that a second read is useful as more is often revealed in a re-read so I will try again and see if I feel less frustrated by it second time round!

In The Wild Iris, Louise Glück allows flowers and other plants to
speak. A gardener tending the plants also speaks, most often in
prayer. Another voice, the deity prayed to by the gardener, speaks
omnisciently. Glück’s garden, like life, brings unexpected joys and
disappointments—the first sprouts, an early bloom, reoccurring
weeds, a too-soon death. Although a reader may initially find it
confusing who is speaking in the poems, I think Glück did this for a
reason.

The first poem in the collection grants an iris voice:
At the end of my suffering
there was a door.

Hear me out: that which you call death
I remember.

Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting.
Then nothing. The weak sun
flickered over the dry surface.

It is terrible to survive
as consciousness
buried in the dark earth.

Then it was over: that which you fear, being
a soul and unable
to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth
bending a little. And what I took to be
birds darting in the low shrubs.

You who do not remember
passage from the other world
I tell you I could speak again: whatever
returns from oblivion returns
to find voice:

from the center of my life came
a great fountain, deep blue
shadows on azure seawater.

The book’s major themes are set up in this first poem: death (as
metaphoric winter), resurrection, and the role of nature. The iris has
survived winter as a bulb or rhizome. It rises again in spring with a
vague sense of a suffered life and a dream-like dormancy. The
questions a reader may ask are: Does the flower actually speak, and,
is anyone listening? A partial answer may be in the very next poem,
the first in a series of ‘Matins’ (morning prayer).

. . . Noah says
depressives hate the spring, imbalance
between the inner and outer world. I make
another case—being depressed, yes, but in a sense passionately
attached to the living tree, my body
actually curled in the split trunk, almost at peace,
in the evening rain
almost able to feel
sap frothing and rising: Noah says this is
an error of depressives, identifying
with a tree whereas the happy heart
wanders the garden like a falling leaf, a figure for
the part, not the whole.

Here the gardener speaks to a deity while simultaneously revealing to
the reader her mental state and personality—she is depressed and
identifies with a plant. She projects herself into the plant. Since
Noah has told her she should think of herself as an entity detached
from the rest of the world, he is probably rebutting her theory that
we all are a part of a whole.

The next ‘Matins’ refers to the Garden of Eden. Eve realizes her
mortality and feels abandoned by God. The next three poems,
‘Trillium’, ‘Lamium’, and ‘Snowdrops,’ are plant poems
that reemphasize themes of despair, death, resurrection, and
instinctual (though vague) memories of past lives.

When woke up I was in a forest. The dark
seemed natural, the sky through the pine trees
thick with many lights.

. . .

This is how you live when you have a cold heart.
As I do: in shadows, trailing over rock,
under the great maple trees.

. . .

do you know what I was, how I lived? You know
what despair is; then
winter should have meaning for you.

I did not expect to survive,
earth suppressing me. I didn’t expect
to waken again, to feel
damp in the earth my body
able to respond again, remembering
after so long how to open again . . .

With the next poem, ‘Clear Morning,’ a reader logically concludes
that Morning is speaking, because of the title but also because the
previous ‘flower poems’ use similar first person points-of-view
while addressing the gardener as “you.” What the reader actually
hears in the poem is the voice of God.

I’ve watched you long enough,
I can speak to you any way I like—

I’ve submitted to your preferences, observing patiently
the things you love, speaking

through vehicles only, in
details of earth, as you prefer,

tendrils
of blue clematis, light

of early evening—
you would never accept

a voice like mine, indifferent
to the objects you busily name,

your mouths
small circles of awe—

And all this time
I indulged your limitations, thinking

you would cast it aside yourselves sooner or later,
thinking matter could not absorb your gaze forever—

obstacles of the clematis painting
blue flowers on the porch window—

I cannot go on
restricting myself to images

because you think it is your right
to dispute my meaning:

I am prepared now to force
clarity upon you.

God is condescending, angry, fed up. He is the jaded creator, scolding
and didactic, detached yet fatherly. He is tired of listening to
meager human concerns and is tired of speaking through “vehicles,”
yet He paradoxically disguises himself as Morning.

Reading back over the previous flower poems, then reading further in
the book, a reader will note that the flowers and other plants expound
on topics that initiate within the mind of the gardener. They also
speak in a patronizing tone (a personality trait of the God
portrayed); e.g., “hear me out,” “what are you saying?” and
“Not I, you idiot.”

The rest of the collection continues similarly. God scolds the
gardener, flowers and plants echo the gardener in a Godly timbre, and
the gardener pleads to God using plant-life analogies. They all take
turns speaking, as if allowing each other input in a
conversation—yet, ironically, amongst all this verbal exchange, very
little communication takes place. God hears the gardener but does not
listen to her. The plants scream but the gardener appears deaf. God
bellows, but nobody hears him. Obviously the book is written not so
the characters will learn and change, but so the reader may decipher
and conclude.

Glück crafts stunning poetry in this collection. Her imagery is
vibrant, her language immediate, her personification convincing. The
major debate throughout the collection, whether we actually resurrect
or not, comes to no clear conclusion—in fact, contradictory answers
are given. In one poem it is said that the soul is eternal. In another
it says nothing lasts forever. The book could be read as stating that
the Biblical order of things does not exist, that florae are not the
lowest forms on earth, and that we as humans do not ascend to heaven.
A canonical gardener drives the collection, but Glück leaves open the
option for a non-anthropomorphic God—one who has no conceivable
form. Ambivalence in speaker voice may be a way to say that we are all
connected—human beings, nature, and God. Since plants attempt to
answer the questions the narrator is asking, and since God speaks
through the elements, it seems that Glück is saying that
understanding nature is a way of comprehending the physical and
spiritual makings of the world—one only has to listen well and weigh
the contradictions.

Firstly, I was amazed by how similar the detective’s methods were to Sherlock Holmes’ and, I have to admit, this made me quite disillusioned with the great Conan Doyle as I’d always thought of his detective as completely ground-breaking and unique – obviously not. Dupin, Poe’s detective, is the inspiration (and, dare I say it, copy) for Sherlock in the way he forms his deductions and the way he begins with a clue seemingly meaningless that everyone else has overlooked and then follows the trail along from this and arrives at the remarkable solution. Poe’s writing is so very clever and I am full of admiration and respect.

There are three short stories within this book, all very different to each other; Murder in the Rue Morgue is quite a gruesome tale; The Mystery of Marie Roget is quite a fascinating one as it is a true-life murder that Poe altered slightly to turn into fiction; and the Purloined Letter is different again as there is no murder but just the skill of the letter thief matched against the skill of Dupin in his attempts to discover where the stolen letter is hidden. (The fact that The Mystery of Marie Roget was a true story that Poe was almost putting forward a solution to, I found reminded me again of an interesting similarity to Conan Doyle as people used to write asking him for help in solving true-life crimes and he often read about true cases in the newspapers that he felt he could solve, such as The Great Wyrely Outrages when he defended George Edalji (detailed in the book Arthur & George by Julian Barnes)).

I can only imagine the stunned and enthusiastic response of the public on first reading these stories – the very first detective stories. I was amazed by them now after having read many detective stories and being fully familiar with the concept of a detective and the fictional methods they employ – this must have been revolutionary to the reading public of the time and I envy them their experience. Just as when I read The Mysteries of Uldopho (recognised as the first Gothic novel, just as Edgar Allan Poe’s book is recognised as the first detective novel), I felt like I was going back in time and was reading something very precious indeed and was fascinated by how powerful a book this was and what an important influence it had had.

I can see that, although this book is ground-breaking, other detective books that followed it were more refined and perhaps better written and had more two-way conversations, whereas Dupin just seems to be lecturing the reader and I found the start of the book and its lengthy description of chess a little difficult to wade through – these are similar to my feelings with (again, but the comparison is understandable, I feel) The Mysteries of Uldopho which is very slow in parts. However, these are just the quibbles of a modern reader used to a different style of book and are insignificant compared to the overall admiration and enjoyment I got from the book.

I was interested in the fact that the narrator was, and remained, nameless and I found this quite unusual and intriguing. I was also interested in the fact that all three of the short stories in this book detailed women in distress although all of them were very different stories – perhaps this is a sign of the time it was written in.

The copy of the book I have (published by Vintage Classics) gives information about Poe and his career, which I found very interesting. It also gives an excerpt from even earlier detective stories by Voltaire and others, which were also fascinating to read.

I found it heartbreaking to read the assault on Tess by Alec and found it interesting to consider that apparently when the book was first released readers were divided as to whether she had finally submitted to Alec or whether she had been raped – the first time I read this book I had no doubt in my mind that she had been raped and my re-reading of the novel left me with the same opinion. I find it hard to understand how all the blame of the assault and its consequences was solely put onto Tess, when in more modern times she would have been sympathised with and seen as the victim – Tess says that she knows she can never marry another man and so her whole life has been blighted by this assault, and yet she didn’t even understand what was happening at the time or what Alec had in mind. As a reader, I found I was getting more and more angry on Tess’ behalf and feeling so very sorry for her, and yet I was trying to remind myself that this lack of equality was how things were in those times.

I found I was almost as indignant at Angel’s treatment of Tess as I was at Alec’s treatment of her and feel that both men treated her almost equally as badly though in different ways. Angel says he realises that Tess has been more sinned against than a sinner herself when she tells him her past, and yet he can’t think of her as his wife or love her and is punishing her for something that wasn’t her fault and says he can forgive her but it is the thought of their children suffering if Tess’ past becomes known that makes him leave her. He states that if Alec was dead then he himself may feel differently, but as Alec is alive then this is the man who is truly Tess’ husband and not Angel himself. He admits to Tess that he himself has done the same and has been with other women and yet he isn’t punished for this even though he chose to behave this way, but Tess has to be punished though she didn’t choose what happened to her. Angel’s actions made me so angry; that he obviously believes that Tess has to pay her whole life for something that wasn’t her doing. How can a man seemingly so thoughtful and romantic and caring be so cruel and heartless and unfeeling? I was reminded of how different things were in the time setting of this book by how Angel’s family’s main questions when he tells them he has met a woman he wants to marry were about whether she was chaste and pure and virtuous, so I can see how important this was in those times and how someone ‘unchaste’ like Tess would be frowned on, but I still struggle to comprehend how the fact that Tess was unwilling could carry no weight. However, considering that several times in the novel wives are referred to as ‘possessions’ reminds me of how unequally men and women were treated then.

I do think that women are represented in this novel in a far better light than men; they are far more loyal and honest and forgiving, as shown by Tess’ friends Izz and Marian who stay faithful to Tess and care for her even though they loved Angel too and hoped to be chosen by him. Their bond and friendship helps Tess deal with the hardships she faces, and this friendship isn’t just there for their happy time at the dairy but they continue supporting her through the hard time at the labouring farm later. By comparison, all the men in the book (Tess’ father, Alec, and Angel) seem to hinder her, judge her, and hurt her.

I find with this book that Hardy keeps building up the reader’s hopes that things will improve for Tess, and I allowed myself (even on my second reading of it) to feel this hope and then it is dashed when all goes wrong for her again. I do feel that Hardy could have been a bit more generous to Tess and let her ‘win’ just one thing, for example to have her escape at the end. Hardy seems to doom everything she attempts, and every time happiness seems to be within her grasp or she makes an effort to pick herself up and think positive and begin again after yet another setback he makes it fail. I realise it is ridiculous to be annoyed at an author for his choice of the life of his character (!), but I do think he is extremely ungenerous and harsh to Tess and that other authors would have allowed their heroines to have some little happiness!

The novel reminded me of a Dickens’ book in the way that everyone was related or connected and that strangers Tess meets turn out to be people she’s already met or who are linked to another of her acquaintance, but this seems more plausible in Hardy’s books than in Dickens’ as the country life in Hardy’s books is very insular and takes place over such a small area.

I find this a very moving book and one that provokes strong reactions in me, and Tess is perhaps one of the most memorable characters that I have read about and one of the saddest. I wouldn’t describe this as an enjoyable read as it is so desperately sad and unfair, but it is a beautiful book and one I feel is important to read.

The diary itself is very interesting and fascinating, and I love reading from such an interesting period of time; it feels such a privilege to be able to read the account of an ordinary person at the time rather than just the news reports. The book also made me feel inspired to grow vegetables and to try and ‘make and mend’ as they had to during the war. This book also brings home to me, more than bare facts in a history book ever could, how long the war went on for and just what a huge impact it had on people’s lives and especially on important days such as Christmas Day or birthdays as Nella always remembered past special days and draws comparisons.

I found Nella’s thoughts about what life would be like in the future very interesting, particularly about the welfare state and the NHS and her hopes for how they will aid women’s lives; her thoughts about how women’s roles would be likely to change after the war and whether they’d be satisfied going back to ‘trivial’ housework after doing important war work; her worries about the economy, about education; and her thoughts about whether it would still be white people in charge after the war. It is fascinating to consider her predictions in light of how things did change after the war, and how accurate she was in many of her thoughts.

As I say, I cannot recommend this book highly enough. Read it!

The book reads very well as I wanted to find out what happened to her, why she was put away, and find out more about her family who could do such a thing and so completely erase her from their lives.

The characters in the book stayed with me and were very believable. Esme’s character was fascinating; the traumas that she went through as a child and young woman and through which she had no support from her family, she then tried to deal with them herself, first by trying to speak about her feelings and then by escaping into a silent world punctuated by the need to let it all out by sudden screaming – all perfectly understandable considering what she’d been through, but her family were determined to despise and punish her for these two methods of dealing with her trauma and seemed to grab the first opportunity they had for pushing her out of their lives by admitting her to a mental institution. I wondered if Esme’s mother was suffering from mental distress, which would be totally understandable after suffering the death of a child, but if so this didn’t seem to enable her to empathise or understand what her daughter was going through. Kitty’s character also fascinated me and I found I kept going back through the book to re-read Kitty’s thoughts and realised that what I’d first taken as incoherent ramblings actually held quite important clues to Kitty’s involvement in Esme being taken away – I thought this was extremely clever by the author; to hide valuable information within the seemingly nonsense ramblings of an old ill woman. I also admired the accurate way the author transcribes Kitty’s thoughts, as she suffers from Alzeimher’s and her thoughts often begin mid-sentence and then break off to be then followed by another mid-sentence thought. Again, this is heartbreaking to consider how distressing this must be for sufferers and their families.

I was shocked by the ending and didn’t anticipate it, and was left with uncertainty as to how much Esme actually knew about what and who had caused her to be sent away, I was also left with the feeling that I immediately wanted to go back and read the book again – a sign of a great book. I am full of admiration and praise for this book, and could envisage it being adapted to a great and slightly chilling film. I found this a very impressive, gripping and intriguing book and definitely plan to read more Maggie O’Farrell.

After finishing the book, however, I was left with many feelings of doubt as to the credibility of the storyline and how on earth two young girls could be investigated and one actually imprisoned for killing an adult who had abused them; I just really don’t think it would be as black and white as that. Firstly, why weren’t previous allegations of Marcus abusing young girls brought up either by his victims or their families or other teachers as a defence for Poppy and Serena? Secondly, surely Poppy and Serena’s underage status would have made the police suspect that it was much more likely that they were being manipulated by Marcus rather than them manipulating him as he had committed a crime in the first place by having a relationship with underage girls. Thirdly, why did the girls’ families not confirm their allegations that they were beaten by Marcus, as surely the families would have noticed broken bones, cut lips, etc, even if the girls had tried to explain them away at the time, also the hospitals would have had records of the girls’ injuries to back up their stories. These are just a few of the holes in the plot that niggled away at me while reading the book.

I also found the ending and the discovery of Marcus’ murderer (which I won’t give away and spoil someone else’s read) as unnecessarily complicated and introducing yet another plotline that wasn’t needed as the story would have been gripping enough as it was.

I admire Koomson’s desire to highlight abuse like this and can see that writing a gripping fictional tale about such a subject does bring it to people’s attention in a way that campaigns may not, but I was disappointed in the quality and believability of the storyline, which is a shame as her other books I have read have been of extremely high quality.

It is a story about magic in 1800s England where such a thing as magic is common-place and accepted and not that usual at all (a thing I had to keep reminding myself at the beginning) although it isn’t as popular as it once was. Mr Norrell is a magician determined to bring back magic to England but he wants only a certain kind of magic to be taught and accepted which means no reference to the dark sinister magic of the Raven King in times past, he also wants to be the only respected magician in England and aims to keep this exclusivity by owning and keeping secret all the text books and information about magic he can find. Jonathan Strange teaches himself magic and becomes Mr Norrell’s student, and between them they help England during the Napoleonic War by using magic in battle. Jonathan believes, however, that the history of the Raven King cannot be denied or erased and that there are things to admire and of benefit regarding this King, and this belief brings about Strange’s and Norrell’s split and they are from then on opposing sides. Throughout this, there are frequent appearances of a sinister gentleman with thistledown hair, a fairy called forth by Mr Norrell when he magically brings a dead girl back to life, however this fairy is not the easily controlled gentleman that Mr Norrell expects him to be and he becomes involved in several people’s lives suffering them to live between two worlds, the fairy world and the real world.

My over-riding thought about this book is how real it all seemed with the footnotes throughout and the references to other magical books, I thought this was a brilliant idea. The whole book is a beautiful mix of real and fantasy with some factual things such as ‘Mad’ King George III and the Duke of Wellington and Byron, alongside fairies and fairy roads and magic, I love this mix. It is an unusual book and unlike anything else I have read, and yet saying that some aspects of its style reminded me of a couple of my all-time favourite books, (which is a recommendation in itself), namely Charles Dickens’ books due to the huge size of book, the detailed descriptions of the characters, the unusual surnames of the characters, the old-fashioned spellings and language used, and the drawings in the book, and it also reminded me of The Lord of the Rings due to the epic book it is and the in-depth creation of a whole other world.

I love so much about this book! I love that the magic stronghold of England is in the North of England rather than the South and that the place names are real Northern places (as I am Northerner myself). I love that the amazing character of the thistledown hair gentleman is so memorable; he can be sinister and cruel, yet in some of his speeches to Stephen he is extremely funny in a cutting and sarcastic way. I love the way that all the threads are tied up at the end of the book and that all have their relevance, and that the prophesises all come true in the end, and that seemingly minor characters have had major importance throughout the book.

The whole story is so well thought out and there is such depth in the book. I would definitely want to own this book and re-read it. This is a great and amazing piece of work and I am full of admiration for it and what an undertaking it must have been, I definitely have a sense that Clarke lived and breathed this world in the writing of the book as I did in the reading of it. I cannot recommend it enough!