My Favourite Books of 2015

One benefit of not reading enough is that the good books I've read stand out that little bit more. Interesting thing? I read all of these in the first seven months of the year. You can find the complete list of books I've read this year here but these are my top five, in no particular order.

Dead to Me by Cath Staincliffe

The first book I read in 2015 is still one of my favourites. A prequel to the Scott & Bailey television series, this was an excellent read and the plan is still to read the next novel when I get a chance. My full review can be found here. 

Felix Holt, the Radical by George Eliot

It's taken quite a while for me to find an Eliot book that really got me but Felix Holt  turned out to be it. Almost a year later I'm still thinking about the evocative riot scenes and this is one of those rare novels I remember exactly where I was when I read it, down to the bumps on the track between Wakefield and Sheffield. My full review can be found here. 

Inseparable: Desire Between Women in Literature by Emma Donoghue

My favourite non-fiction book of the year, this is an excellent analysis of same-sex desire that has provided me with so much potential reading material that it's already paid for itself ten times over. My full review can be found here. 

Murder in the Afternoon by Frances Brody

My infatuation with Kate Shackleton doesn't seem to be easing but who cares? Out of the three Brody novels I reviewed in 2015, this one is my favourite thanks to the Wakefield setting. My full review can be found here. 

Here Be Dragons by Stella Gibbons

Here's another author who I could read forever. No matter what I think of a Gibbons plot, the settings are evocative and the characters memorable. Here Be Dragons is another excellent examination of post-war London and it struck a chord. My full review can be found here. 

Book Review: The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister ed. Helena Whitbread

This is a book that's been on my shelf for quite some time and what put me off reading it was the bitty nature of it. I suspected that, whether I was enjoying it or not, this would be a book that would slow down my reading schedule and I wasn't wrong. However, I'm certainly glad I got round to it in the end.

Anne Lister lived at Shibden Hall in Halifax in the early 1800s and kept a diary for most of her life. The diaries in this volume span the years 1816-1824 and document her everyday existence in Yorkshire - along with her same-sex relationships and attractions. Anything that Lister wrote in her famous 'code' are separated from the rest of the text by italics, making it easier to keep up with when she's discussing her sexual relationships with, and desires towards, women.

Certain parts of these diaries can feel quite mundane but perhaps that's the attraction. They provide a fascinating description of life as a well-off woman and the daily trials of life. However, Lister was certainly a unique woman in many ways, making her diaries an interesting juxtaposition to similar surviving documents of the era. I enjoyed reading the domestic passages, although parts do get a little repetitive - a peril of such a lengthy set of diaries.

Lister was a snob and this comes through very clearly in her writing. Her use of the term 'vulgar' gets old quite quickly, losing some of its effect by the end of the book! Alternately, I felt sympathy for her isolation, given her intelligence and sexuality, and exasperation at the way she behaved to those who wanted to be friendly with her.

These diaries are expertly edited by Helena Whitbread, including just enough contextual information without overloading the book. While the main interest may lie in Lister's descriptions of her lesbian relationships, the rest of the diaries are equally as compelling - if at times incredibly exasperating.

This book was read as part of the 'TBR' reading challenge, details here.

Book Review: Inseparable: Desire Between Women in Literature by Emma Donoghue

This fascinating non-fiction book examines the representation of desire between woman in literature in six section: 'Travesties', 'Inseparables', 'Rivals', 'Monsters', 'Detection' and 'Out'. While it's full of detail and so will please any scholars interested in the subject, Inseparable is also an easy, sometimes amusing, read for non-academics. Donoghue infuses her non-fiction analysis with the same edge of humour that I enjoy so much in her fiction. Though, for me, this subject could never be dry and boring, she ensures it isn't so.

The 'Travesties' section looks at cross-dressing within texts from 990 onwards, including brief discussions on Shakespeare, Margaret Cavendish and Theophile Gautier amongst others. It examines the recurring depictions of 'The Female Bridegroom' and 'The Male Amazon' in a chapter that looks at the causes and consequences of cross-dressing and its heyday in the drama of the seventeeth century.

'Inseparables' begins with the Biblical account of Ruth and Naomi and covers the representation of love based on similarity. As this is one of my areas of interest, I perhaps found this chapter the most interesting, particularly the discussion on Charlotte Bronte's Shirley. It also highlighted some works I want to read, both for pleasure and study - as every chapter did.

'Rivals' is a fascinating analysis of what happens when a woman and man compete for the same love. It starts with Sappho and goes through Shakespeare, Richardson and some rather brilliant-sounding French texts before moving on to discuss what happens when the rivalry bubbles over. It examined some texts I was already familiar with, such as The Rainbow and The Fox, but, again, the ones I found most intriguing were the ones I've yet to read, most notably The Bostonians.

Perhaps the chapter on 'Monsters' contains the themes most familiar to observers of fiction about desire between women. It's interesting to see the texts these stereotypes stemmed from then we take a short tour through Dickens, Hardy and others. This is quite an uncomfortable chapter, though I particularly liked the section on ghost stories.

The fifth chapter on 'Detection' provided me with plenty of books I want to read somewhere down the line. Again, desire between women is a theme pretty familiar to readers of the crime genre and it looks at writers including Ruth Rendell, Agatha Christie and P.D. James. Given my sensation fiction roots, I was also pleased to see a discussion of The Woman in White in this chapter followed by an examination of two novels by Sarah Waters.

'Out', the final chapter, looks at the 'awakening' motif in texts from George Moore onwards. It's a nice shift in tone from the other chapters, looking at declared love instead of coded texts, but it also highlights the complexities of modern life. There's a section here on 'first love' which covers several texts I was already familiar with and, once more, a number of works mentioned in this chapter are now begging to be read.

Ultimately, Emma Donoghue has written a book that is both informative and fascinating. Her subject knowledge is exemplary and her style engaging. I've already referred back to Inseparable for academic work and I have no doubt I'll be doing that again fairly frequently. Highly recommended!

Book Review: The Dead Duke, His Secret Wife and the Missing Corpse by Piu Marie Eatwell

If the title of this book sounds baffling, it's nothing compared to the true story it relates. In 1897 a widow called Anna Maria Druce applied for permission to exhume her father-in-law's body. She claimed that Druce, a furniture dealer, had really been the alter-ego of the 5th Duke of Portland, an eccentric man who was reclusive in nature and delighted in tunnelling under his country estate. Mrs Druce claimed that the Duke had faked the death of Druce in 1864 and that the coffin would be found empty. This kicked off one of the most intriguing cases of the late Victorian era which captured the public's imagination and rivals the best tales contemporary novelists had to offer.

Although this is a riveting story to start with, it needs someone of Eatwell's talents to bring the disparate strands together. It may start with Anna Maria Druce but that's far from the end of the case and Eatwell does an excellent job of juggling the various aspects of it. The book is split into three 'acts' - 'Burial', 'Resurrection' and 'Revelation', a partitioning that works well for the most part. For me, the intrigue didn't disintegrate at all throughout the book - while one mystery might be 'solved' there were still things to be explored, creating layers of intrigue that lasted until the final pages.

Eatwell's research is exemplary and she's been fortunate enough to have been granted access to some very interesting things, which she relates towards the end of the book. Equally, her knowledge of the major and minor players in the tale is excellent and she shares just enough relevant information without the narrative becoming swamped. Her ability to recreate the atmosphere of late-Victorian London is also brilliant. This isn't a dry book that simply recounts facts but an engrossing one which attempts to put you in the shoes of the major players. When a writer does this successfully they can bring history to life and Eatwell is one such writer.

Ultimately, this is a thrilling non-fiction book which will appeal to fans of The Suspicions of Mr Whicher and other high-quality works of that type. I thoroughly enjoyed it and was sad that the rollercoaster ride of the 'Druce-Portland' case had to end, though not, I'm sure, as sad as some of the protagonists.

A review copy of this book was given to me in exchange for an impartial review.

Book Review: Call the Midwife by Jennifer Worth

The inspiration for the hit television series, this is the first of Jennifer Worth's books about her experiences as a midwife in 1950s London. Written in episodic chapters, this is an engrossing memoir that is informative, moving and amusing in places.

One of Worth's strengths is the ability to explain without being condescending. Yes, by the very nature of the subject matter, things do get a little gory at times, but this tempered by moments of sheer beauty. Worth manages to conjure up her youthful self brilliantly and isn't afraid to highlight her own inexperience, naivety and, occasionally, prejudice.

The tales in this book have been used to a greater or lesser extent in the television adaptation. Even so, I heartily recommend reading the book for the subtle differences that are sometimes more enjoyable for being true. Perhaps my favourite of these is Worth's recounting of how involved Sister Julienne got in trying to encourage handyman Fred's pig-breeding activities. I laughed out loud, partly from the situation that ensues and partly due to Worth's expert recounting of it.

Several tales in this book span multiple chapters, maintaining the compact feeling of the book while allowing expansion on the stories of certain people. The story of a young woman coerced into prostitution is particularly dark, fitting into a wider analysis of the trade in East London at that time. Equally, the case of Mrs Jenkins and her experiences in the workhouse is heartbreaking.

There's a reason that this book is a best-seller and has been adapted into a hugely successful television series. Quite simply, it's well-written and heartfelt and I'm looking forward to reading the next book very soon.

2015 Reading Challenges Master List

In a bid to make up for my lacklustre attempts at reading as many books as I'd like to in the last few years, I've signed up for five separate reading challenges for 2015. While I could place books on two lists, I haven't done that. The idea is to read as many books as possible and broaden my horizons a little bit. I'll probably fail miserably but I'm going to have fun trying with this lot.

New Author Challenge

Hosted by Literary Escapism, this challenge does what it says on the tin - you have to read a set amount of new authors in 2015. I'm opting into the lowest rung of fifteen novels which may make me a bit of a wimp but I want to try and complete it after all. I've listed the precise books I intend to read and not just the authors because the rest of the lists will look like this and I'm nothing if not methodical. It's a reasonable mix of modern novels and older stuff. 

1. The Middlesteins by Jami Attenberg
2. After Me Comes the Flood by Sarah Perry
3. The Failed Assassin by Richard Pierce
4. Dead to Me by Cath Staincliffe
5. The Accidental Mother by Rowan Coleman
6. Heresy by S.J. Parris
7. The Bawdy Basket by Edward Marston
8. The Lost Abbot by Susanna Gregory
9. The Heir of Redclyffe by Charlotte Yonge
10. Patricia Brent, Spinster by Herbert George Jenkins
11. The Betrothed by Alessandro Manzoni
12. The Mystery of a Hansom Cab by Fergus Hume
13. King Solomon's Mines by Henry Rider Haggard
14. The Angel of Terror by Edgar Wallace
15. The Bartlett Mystery by Louis Tracy

Women Challenge

Hosted by Peek a booK!, the idea is to get people reading more books by women. While that's probably my default position anyway, it can't hurt to make it official and, besides, it's setting in stone that I need to read some of those classics I've so far neglected. I'm opting for the second level which is six to fifteen books and aiming for the higher end of that category.

1. The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot
2. Brick Mother by S.J. Bradley
3. The Lovels of Arden by Mary Elizabeth Braddon
4. The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters
5. Here Be Dragons by Stella Gibbons
6. Sylvia's Lovers by Elizabeth Gaskell
7. In the Days of My Youth by Amelia Edwards
8. Murder on a Summer's Day by Frances Brody
9. Mathilda by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
10. Camilla by Fanny Burney
11. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
12. Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell
13. Nancy by Rhoda Broughton
14. Miss Marjoribanks by Margaret Oliphant
15. The Story of an African Farm by Olive Schreiner

TBR Challenge

Hosted by Roof Beam Reader, this is the challenge I failed miserably at last year, only getting through five of my choices. As a consequence, several of these books are appearing on the list for the second year running and I'll try to do better this time. As per the rules, all of these books have been waiting to be read for at least a year and there are twelve books on this list. 

1. Author, Author by David Lodge
2. Mutants by Armand Marie Leroi
3. Radclyffe Hall: A Woman Called John by Sally Cline
4. The Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices by Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins
5. The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister
6. 800 Years of Women's Letters
7. Collected Stories by Dylan Thomas
8. Henry Dunbar by Mary Elizabeth Braddon
9. The New Magdalen by Wilkie Collins
10. Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens
11. The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham
12. Witch Stories by Eliza Lynn Linton

Victorian Bingo Challenge

This one, hosted by Becky's Book Reviews, is rather fun. You have to complete a row, line or diagonal on the bingo board and, again, I'm using this challenge to read books I should've read already. I've gone across the top, mainly because I wanted to avoid some categories that would likely put me off the challenge and there are five books involved in this one.

1. Book Published in the 1840s - Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens
2. Male Author - The Warden by Anthony Trollope
3. Female Author - Charlotte's Inheritance by Mary Elizabeth Braddon
4. Book with a Name as the Title - Felix Holt, the Radical by George Eliot
5. Book Published in Serial Format - The Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Reade

Reading England Challenge

Hosted by Behold the Stars, this challenge is to read books set in different parts of the country. I'm opting for level two which is four to six books and aiming for the higher number again. I've deliberately filled this selection with classics too, probably because I'm a glutton for punishment.

1. Berkshire - Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy
2. Essex - Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens
3. Derbyshire - Rookwood by W.H. Ainsworth
4. Nottinghamshire - Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence
5. Somerset - Lorna Doone by R.D. Blackmore
6. Lancashire - Mary Barton by Elizabeth Gaskell

ARC Book Review: Tinseltown by William J. Mann

The full title of this book is Tinseltown: Murder, Morphine, and Madness at the Dawn of Hollywood. It centres on the murder of William Desmond Taylor in 1922, examining all available material to try and pin down the culprits after all this time. More than that, though, this book serves as a portal into the early world of Hollywood. Other people discussed at length include actresses Mabel Normand, Mary Miles Minter and Virginia Gibson along with Adolph Zukor, the ambitious founder of Paramount. This book attempts to uncover the 'real' Hollywood of the early 20s and, for the most part, it succeeds.

While the murder investigation does form the centrepiece of the book, it certainly isn't the only strand. I liked the fact that it begins with the day of the murder then flips back to document how the main players got to that point. Although I knew the murder was coming, sometimes I got so engrossed with the power plays of various people that I forgot about it. As a consequence, it came upon me as a bit of a shock, mainly because by this point I was emotionally attached - not so much to Taylor himself but to Mabel Normand. Mann's portrayal of Normand is nothing short of exquisite and, out of all the names who touch these pages, for me, the representation of Normand lingers most strongly.

Mann's style may not be to everyone's taste but it certainly works. He has painstakingly recreated as much of that period as possible using, as he explains in a note at the end, as many primary sources as he could get his hands on but, beyond that, he has immersed himself and his reader in the possible thoughts of his primary protagonists. This kind of speculation is just that but it works because of Mann's level of research: there is always the sense that his speculation stems from deep involvement in his subject and his use of photographs and weather reports to visualise what a street would've looked like from the view of one of his protagonists works extremely well. Similarly, the use of very short chapters, flicking around from person to person is something I enjoyed once I accustomed myself to it. Mann uses enough markers and reminders to satisfy his most forgetful readers and keeping all the major players in the air is a shrewd move for maintaining interest.

The book claims to offer the solution to the mystery that has foxed film buffs for ninety years. Do I think the conclusions are plausible? Yes, I do. Mann doesn't manipulate the evidence to fit his theory. He presents it all, including that for other suspects. In the end, though, the circumstantial evidence accumulated via Mann's diligent recreation of the Hollywood milieu swings it for me.

Tinseltown isn't only a gripping read but an excellent depiction of a world long gone. If you're interested in the early days of Hollywood and the power plays of the era then this book is highly recommended.

I received an ARC of this book direct from the publishers, HarperCollinsPublishers. And here's a nifty trailer for it:

Book Review: The Peculiar Case of the Electric Constable by Carol Baxter

The Peculiar Case of the Electric Constable recounts the real-life arrest of Quaker John Tawell, arrested on New Year's Day 1845 with assistance from the electric telegraph system that ran from Slough to London. However, the title is really only something for the writer to hang their hat on. This may have been the first case assisted by the telegraph wires, yes, but it is a fascinating one even disregarding that.

Tawell converted to Quakerism and spent a lot of time trying to fit in but marriage to an outsider didn't help his case. There's a lot in this book on Quaker rules and regulations - as they were at the beginning of the nineteenth century - and it makes for fascinating reading for those of us who hadn't really looked into it before. While some of Tawell's frustrations can be linked to these rules, his conviction for fraud (while trying to hide behind his uniform) demonstrates Tawell's tenuous grip on morality. The pages about his transportation to Australia are excellent and don't feel at all superfluous.

The murder Tawell is accused of is the poisoning of single mother Sarah Hart. Baxter's research is fantastic and her lucid narrative style almost puts you in the house at the time of the murder. She also knows when to flick back and forth between aspects of the story, ensuring that the reader is both interested in what's being told and intrigued about what she will return to. The atmosphere she recreates later in the prison is stifling and ridiculously realistic.

I don't want to spoil any more of the details of this fascinating case so I'll leave it there. However, I will say that I thoroughly enjoyed this book, particularly the meticulous research and the complete immersion in Tawell's life that it results in. I'll definitely read more by Baxter in the future.

Book Review: Mrs Robinson's Disgrace by Kate Summerscale

The subtitle of this book is 'The Private Diary of a Victorian Lady', which is the tool Summerscale uses to analyse one of the most interesting divorce cases heard in mid-Victorian period. Isabella Robinson met Edward Lane in 1850 and quickly began writing about him in her secret diary. She alternates between believing he feels the same way and thinking him cold-hearted until something irreversible seems to happen between. Then Isabella falls ill and her diary is read by her husband, Henry...

If it sounds like the plot of a sensation novel that's because it most likely inspired some. The details of the case were devoured by the press and, although they are less shocking to a modern reader, the type of information Isabella trusted to her diary is still surprising. Aside from her love for Edward, they also document her feelings for two other men and her distaste for her husband. Part of her defence rested upon the fact that to commit these thoughts - they contended they were fantasy - to paper was the sign of a deranged woman.

Summerscale approaches her subject with subtlety, utilising the diary entries to build up a picture of what happened before the trial. This is made especially difficult by the fact that the original diary and copies were destroyed. All she has to work with are the sections reported in the press and in the law digest which summarised the case in greater detail than the newspaper reports. With this in mind, the depth of Summerscale's analysis into Isabella and Edward's relationship is incredible. Equally, her writing style suits the subject, as it did The Suspicions of Mr Whicher (review here).

This is an enjoyable work of non-fiction and I won't give away the details for anyone unfamiliar with the trial. I will say that the Robinson and Lane families are interesting beyond the divorce trial and alleged affair. What Summerscale has created here, with the help of Isabella's diary, is a snapshot of a set of Victorian lives. The asides may seem irrelevant on occasion but they serve to build up an engrossing picture. When I'd finished reading I felt I was losing touch with a collection of friends.

Book Review: The Maul and the Pear Tree by P.D. James and T.A. Critchley

This book, originally published in 1971, chronicles the real-life case of the Ratcliffe Murders of 1811 where two families were barbarously murdered in London's East End. The bare facts of the case were already familiar to me: seven victims brutally killed, a nationwide panic followed by the arrest of a sailor, John Williams, who later killed himself.  One of the most grisly parts of the famous murder case occurred afterwards, though, as Williams's corpse was paraded through the streets of London along with the murder weapons.

The central hypothesis of this book is that Williams was wrongly accused. To get to that point we're treated to a step-by-step account of the murders and investigation, pieced together as well as it can be by two writers looking at the case after a 160 year gap. The first necessity of this book is to create early nineteenth-century London in the mind of the reader and this is accomplished very well in the opening chapters, though the murders are kept in sight at all times. James and Critchley give enough information for the location to be vivid but without detracting from the case at hand. Their conversational yet analytic style makes this an easy book to read, even though it becomes extremely gruesome in parts. The macabre fascination with the brutality of these killings has lingered on through the decades, making it as compelling a mystery now as it was in 1811.

With the distance of time, however, the case can be looked at objectively. The police investigation is critiqued, along with the actions of individuals, building up as complete a body of evidence as possible for the authors to analyse. This, of course, takes much of the book. I have to admit that I was eager to get to the arguments in favour of Williams's innocence but you have to read the book carefully for the conclusions to make sense. However, they do make sense, with James and Critchley giving a plausible hypothesis for what really happened in 1811.

This is an extremely readable book which steers away from too many passages of dry, contemporary evidence in favour of a prose style which informs the reader of the evidence without boring them. When newspaper reports, letters and Hansard transcripts are used they are valuable to the book as a whole. This prevents it from becoming a stale list of he said/she said and gives James and Critchley more freedom to present the work in an accessible style. A thoroughly compelling, if grisly, account of a fascinating murder investigation.

Book Review: The Scourging Angel by Benedict Gummer

Benedict Gummer's lengthy book examines the UK before, during and after the Black Death of the fourteenth century. Utilising an array of sources, Gummer builds up a thorough picture of the political and social contexts of a world very similar to our own but also very different.

The amount of detail in this book is astounding. As well as hypothesising about the probable path of the disease in England, Gummer also looks at the probable route in Scotland and Ireland - of course, this involves an in-depth analysis of the tensions between those countries and England. He also zones in on specific places in the country where detailed information was available for mortality rates (via parish records of tenancies and such). These village or town snapshots allow the plague to become more than just a sweeping disease as they show the real human effects and the consequent knock-on effects of the pestilence.

One of the central protagonists in this narrative is naturally the king of the period - Edward III. In relating the effects of the plague, Gummer also documents a sovereign somewhat successful in battle against France but flawed in other ways. The ruling classes in general are looked at in detail - both the ones who reacted well to the pestilence and those who reacted badly. The intricacies of the feudal system are well-explained by Gummer, with particular attention being paid to those which seem so alien to modern readers.

I have to say, my favourite sections of this exceptional book are those which examine the effects on - and recovery of - Ireland in this period. The plague, added to English-Irish tensions, creates a fascinating dynamic. Equally, the discussions of architecture (amid the deaths of some pioneering masons) is extremely interesting. At first I was surprised how much of the book is devoted to the after-effects of the disease but this is actually very important, showing the fundamental changes that occurred during the late fourteenth century, some a result of the plague and some not. What Gummer achieves in this book is an accessible history only occasionally bogged down by the sheer amount of detail. The immersion in his subject is evidenced not only by the extensive bibliography but by the lengthy notes section. This book is primarily a history of the Black Death but it is also a history of the UK in the fourteenth century. I bought it for the former but have found my interest piqued by the latter.

Bedlam: London and Its Mad by Catharine Arnold

As well as focusing on 'Bedlam' itself, Catharine Arnold looks at the wider issue of madness in London and how the mentally ill were treated generally throughout the life of the hospital. This makes for a surprisingly wide-ranging book and one that doesn't become stale.

Bethlehem Hospital has been in existence since 1247, though in various locations around the capital. It survived scandals, both of cruelty and fraud, and the Great Fire of 1666 along with numerous problems surrounding the building itself. Arnold blends an ongoing narrative about the hospital with an examination of contemporary treatments of madness using primary sources wherever possible. This creates a sense of coherence, binding the hospital to wider events. One of the most interesting of these, for me, was the madness of George III which Arnold explores in chapter seven.

There are some surprisingly individual stories which appear in these pages. Perhaps my only criticism of the book is that we can't follow these people through their lives, though the author can hardly be held to blame for the shoddy record-keeping of previous centuries! I would recommend this book to anyone who would like an overview of London's record at caring for and treating mentally ill patients or a specific look at Bethlehem Hospital itself. Arnold's style is both accessible and involved, making this an easy book to digest but with many things to learn along the way. I'll leave you with a taster of it:

"The flames engulfed the wooden structure and spread swiftly to the surrounding properties, despite the efforts of two soldiers to pull them down. The screaming mob, the distant sound of gunfire, the terrified citizens running out of their houses and the sky itself, deadly red from soaring flames that produced a drift of smoky particles, created a vision of hell. To which was added an even more infernal dimension: the gutters blazed with burning alcohol. Flaming spirits ran through every crack and fissure, forming a deep pool into which people dropped down dead by the dozen. Scooping up the liquid in their bare hands, they drank until they died: husbands and wives, fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, women with children in their arms and babies at their breasts. Some passed out straight away; others danced, half in triumph, half in torment, until they fell into the liquor that had killed them. Burns victims, their clothing still ablaze, mistook it for water and unwittingly hurled themselves into the lake of fire, dying in agony." (p144)

Book Review: Nella Last's War

I've wanted to read these diaries since I saw Victoria Wood's adaptation Housewife, 49 a few years ago. The diaries chronicle WWII as seen from the perspective of a middle-aged mother in Barrow-in-Furness. Nella Last suffered a nervous breakdown before the war but the renewed purpose she gets from various war-related activities separates her from her old self. She has a no-nonsense work ethic that permeates everything she undertakes but she still suffers from war fear and especially the fear that her youngest son, Cliff, will die when sent abroad. She becomes more than just a housewife and, even while the war wreaks damage everywhere, Nella's personal story is a revolutionary one.

It's easy to understand why these diaries are so compelling. Nella's voice is an everyday one in many respects but her attitude seems to contrast with some of the people around her. For instance, she wants to do everything she can and really isn't interested in getting involved with the 'politics' of which woman does what. This wins her short-term disapproval but long-term respect. She also refers to her marriage in stark terms, particularly towards the end of the war when she dreads going back to the existence where she stays in with her husband constantly. Much of the discourse I've read around WWII sees it as revolutionary for younger women, helping to set a new order for the years to come. However, Nella's story is one of an older woman grasping a fresh image of herself and her purpose. It's a very heartening book in that respect. She chronicles the good alongside the bad, the horror alongside her trips to a nearby tranquil lake. The voice that comes across is intelligent and thoughtful but rarely maudlin. There are some entries that are shocking, particularly the one where she admires Hitler for the killing of mentally ill people. Her argument is not one I'd accept today but I can see where she's coming from in the context of the day.

One thing that irritated me about this book was no fault of Nella's. Entries spanning over a year between the beginning of 1944 and May 1945 were lost when the Mass-Observation collection was moved. It interrupted the flow of the work and meant that a lot of domestic things we'd been following suddenly jump along a few paces. We don't get to read about Nella's first impressions of her daughter-in-law or how she reacted when her other son was injured and returned to her. However, the beauty of these diaries is that the gaps can be filled in because there is so much of Nella in her entries. I almost know how she would've reacted and, while it doesn't make up for it, it's a nice thing to be able to say after reading a book of diaries. I'm looking forward to reading the next collection that looks at Nella's life in the 50s.

The book contains some helpful explanatory notes at the end, including a list of people and a glossary. It also includes an afterword penned by Cliff Last which sheds light on Nella's later years and the lives of the main players in the diary. I'll leave you with Nella's final paragraph from her entry celebrating the end of the war in the early hours of 15th August 1945:

"I feel disappointed in my feelings. I feel no wild whoopee, just a quiet thankfulness and a feeling of 'flatness'. Dear God knows what I'd imagined it would be like. I think I'll take two aspirins and try and read myself to sleep." (p298)

Book Review: The Suspicions of Mr Whicher by Kate Summerscale

I'm currently reading a lot of non-fiction books related to my PhD - cultural guides and the like - but this is the only one I've tried to read in one sitting and have been thoroughly engrossed by. Summerscale knows her subject impeccably. It's tremendous to think of the research she had to put into a three hundred page book, though the meticulous notes and select bibliography help give some indication of the extent of the undertaking.

The Suspicions of Mr Whicher or The Murder at Road Hill House is the most recent analysis of a crime which transfixed the Victorian public in 1860 - the murder of toddler, Francis Saville Kent, who was stolen from his bed before his throat was cut and he was cast down an outside toilet. His half-sister, Constance, was investigated by Detective Inspector Jack Whicher but he failed to find any evidence to connect her to the crime. Five years later she confessed to the murder of her own free-will and served twenty years in prison for it.

Those are the facts of the case. What Summerscale does magnificently, however, is recreate the 'detective fever' that the murder inspired around the country. The story was picked up by every major newspaper and they, along with the police themselves, were inundated with amateur theories. Due to the incompetence of the local police (and the worry concerned with violating the 'private sphere' of the family), Whicher was not brought to the scene until two weeks after the murder occurred. He was later vilified by the press and public for his accusations towards Constance Kent, with the wider world more inclined to believe rumours of a sexual nature involving father, Samuel Kent.

Summerscale's analysis is succinct. She rarely refers to speculation unless it is directly from the mouths of the witnesses, newspapermen or police officers involved. Her analysis of the wider issues of detection and sensation in Victorian England is both necessary and informative. It opens up the book to people who have no prior knowledge of Victorian crime and culture whilst reminding those who do of key concepts and people.

I found the final few chapters about the lives of the main players after Constance's incarceration (and release) especially fascinating. Again, Summerscale refrains from over-zealous speculation, though her theory about the 'truth' of the murder is sound and based on a credible understanding of the family and their history.

In parts this book is a little gruesome, especially in regard to particulars about the corpse of the child. However, Summerscale strives to create a vivid and whole account of the crime, making such descriptions necessary. There is a sense at first that she is wasting too much time introducing the 'characters' as she herself puts it, but her introductory chapters feed into the whole to such an extent that they shouldn't be discounted.

This was recommended as useful reading for my PhD and it has been extremely helpful in that respect. However, the intricacies of the crime and Summerscale's unflinching analysis of it are likely to be the aspects which stick with me for some time to come. I would recommend it to both Victorian scholars and those interested in a good read of the non-fiction variety.