The sorrow of sisters (by Wendy K Harris)

(Amazon UK link)

It’s a long time since I read the three novels by Wendy K Harris; she no longer has a website, and I can’t find much about her online. I had forgotten everything about the books other than that I enjoyed them. And whereas I read them in the ‘wrong’ order last time, I decided to read them chronologically.

I read ‘Sorrow of sisters’ back in 2008 and have just finished rereading it. The main character is 49-year-old Jane. She’s happily married to an accountant called Chas; they have a comfortable relationship, and are clearly good friends as well as a married couple. He is helpful and understanding, while quite matter-of-fact; a good foil to Jane, who is full of imagination. She’s also a popular writer of women’s romantic fiction. 

Jane and Chas have no children, but most of the time she’s fine with this. She’s less enthusiastic about her relationship with her cranky father, Henry, who lives on his own. He’s a retired doctor, but still sees some patients. She’s never felt very close to him, or to her mother Victoria, who died some years previously. And in the past few months, before the story opens, she’s been feeling quite disturbed. She isn’t able to write, and keeps making excuses and procrastinating. She puts it down, in part, to her age. And then she receives a letter from a solicitor telling her that her aunt Lillian has died, and has left Jane her cottage on the Isle of Wight.

But Jane had no idea that she had an aunt. She had been told that both her parents were only children, and believed that her father was her only remaining relative. She confronts him, and he admits that his wife had a sister, but they didn’t speak to each other. He says that the cottage is probably a shack, and suggests she ask the lawyer to sell it. Jane decides that she will take a trip to the Isle of Wight to see her inheritance; Chas is supportive, and she doesn’t tell her father that she’s going…

In Jane’s cottage there is an elderly woman called Emmeline who tells her that she knew Lillian well. By the time they meet, the reader knows that Emmeline and Lillian were more than friends; some of the sections of the book are written from Emmeline’s perspective. And some include flashbacks where its as if the deceased Lillian is speaking to her - it’s never entirely clear if this is somehow the case, or whether Emmeline is reading some of the detailed journals that Lillian kept. 

It’s really very cleverly written; a most impressive debut novel. Gradually more and more information and secrets are revealed, through discussions and flashbacks, allowing readers to keep a step ahead of Jane. She discovers what she thinks caused her rather traditional, uptight parents to cut contact with Lillian and Emmeline. But that’s only the start of a plot that’s powerful, beautifully written, and which leads to compulsive reading.

Parts of the book are shockingly traumatic, although the author wisely avoids gratuitous detail. I wouldn’t suggest a child or sensitive teenager read this; indeed, as the main character is nearly fifty and others are older, I doubt if it would appeal even to young people in their twenties. Transita, the publisher of this book (though they are no longer in existence) was looking for novels intended for women of forty-five and above. I think they succeeded admirably with ‘The sorrow of sisters’. 

While there’s undoubtedly a plot that unfolds meticulously, this is essentially a character-based book. I found Jane a very likeable and believable woman, as is Emmeline. Chas is perhaps a tad too good to be true, and Henry a very confused person with a most unpleasant past. 

There’s something of a mystical element; there’s a young woman called Marguerite who doesn’t speak, and apparently doesn’t hear. But she communicates with her hands, and also with some stunning paintings and drawings. She has a special healing touch, too, and a strong sense of what is happening to the people she loves, even when they’re not there.

If you like this kind of book, I would recommend it highly. No longer in print, but it can sometimes be found second-hand. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

When you were older (by Catherine Ryan Hyde)

(Amazon UK link)

I have liked all the novels I’ve read by Catherine Ryan Hyde over the past eighteen years since I first came across one of her books. The writing is always good, with believable characters, and they’re all very different. 

So when I started reading ‘When you were older’ a few days ago, I had no idea that it was set exactly 24 years ago, in September 2001. And while it’s not a short book - nearly 400 pages in paperback - I found it compulsive reading. So I finished it today, the anniversary of the attacks on the twin towers in New York; and that event is the catalyst for most of this novel, which was published originally in 2012. 

Russell is the main character of the book. It’s quite unusual, in my experience, for a woman writer to use a male character as the main viewpoint in a novel. Even more so when he’s narrating in the first person. But Catherine Ryan Hyde has created a believable and very likable young man whom I warmed to quickly. 

The first chapter is dated September 15th, four days after the towers fell. Russell wakes up feeling disorientated, in a bed that’s not his own, to see his brother - whom he hasn’t seen in six years - towering over him. Ben is older than Russell, but it’s clear from the start that he has special needs - it turns out he had brain damage many years earlier. 

Russell had been employed in New York, in one of the towers; but an urgent phone call made him late, so he survived. The phone call was letting him know that his mother had died suddenly, and that he needed to get back to Kansas. And then he no longer had a job, or any colleagues. He had to hitch-hike to Kansas, and he’s deeply in shock. But Ben (whom I thought, at first, was autistic) thrives on routine. And he needs Russell to drive him to the supermarket where he works as a bagger. 

So Russell has to learn, quickly, how to look after his brother. There are some flashbacks to his early childhood, where Ben was a terrible bully; somehow he has become much nicer since his accident, albeit prone to tantrums and misunderstandings. Ben hasn’t really grasped that their mother is not returning, and he doesn’t begin to understand how traumatised Russell is. 

And there’s Anat, the beautiful Egyptian-American girl who works in a local bakery which is owned by her father. Russell goes there initially to buy something for breakfast, and is very quickly smitten. He’s not sure if she feels the same way and he knows he has to tread carefully as her father is quite strict. And because they’re Egyptian - albeit naturalised Americans - some of the local populace decide to attack the bakery. Initially just with paint graffiti, but it gradually becomes worse.

The writing is very powerful, and I felt myself totally drawn into the story. The love story is very gentle, and all the more moving as a result. And there are underlying themes that are quite thought-provoking, demonstrating how one single decision or step can have far-reaching, sometimes devastating consequences. If Russell had decided not to answer his phone on that fatal date, for instance, he would not have been around to tell the story. Other decisions made in the course of the book have more negative consequences. 

There are also strong pointers about the importance of being totally honest with our loved ones, while also sometimes needing to be diplomatic. Some readers might object to the way the author shows that extreme nationalism can be dangerous, and that ongoing wars simply serve to hurt more and more people. But she doesn't moralise; instead, she expresses this in conversation, in Russell’s own convictions and questions, and in the way that the kind, gentle Egyptian pair are targeted for all the wrong reasons.

I read the last third of the book almost in one sitting, as I could hardly put it down. The whole story takes place over the course of just three months (plus flashbacks to Russell and Ben’s childhood) but by the end I was feeling both moved and slightly drained. Parts of this story will probably stay with me for a while.

Highly recommended. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

The ruthless elimination of hurry (by John Mark Comer)

(Amazon UK link)

I had not heard of John Mark Comer. He’s an American pastor, speaker and writer. I might never have come across him, but one of my sons sent us the book ‘The ruthless elimination of hurry’ for Christmas. I thought the title a clever one, and put it on my shelf of books to read at some point. I finally picked it up towards the end of last month, and have just finished it. 

It’s not a particularly long book. But whereas I read fiction, often, in large chunks, I tend to take non-fiction more slowly. Which, I suppose, is an appropriate way to read a book about eliminating hurry. And there’s a lot to think about in this book. It’s not a new theme; I’ve read other books with similar ideas, such as ‘The life you’ve always wanted’ by John Ortberg (a writer whom John Mark Comer references several times), or ‘Finding God in the fast lane’ by Joyce Huggett. But it’s a topic worth perusing regularly, in my opinion.

I say that as someone who - unlike the author - is far from a Type A ‘driven’ personality. However, I can undoubtedly become stressed when things are not working well, or when I need to be somewhere and am late. I definitely choose the shortest queue at a supermarket. And I can all too easily become distracted or caught up with online links, or social media, or forums, or puzzles… not that there’s anything wrong with these things, necessarily. But they can fill my mind, and stop me from doing what might be more important.

Critics have pointed out that this book does not give the gospel message, and that’s true. But it’s not intended as an evangelistic book. Instead it assumes a basic faith, and that readers really would like to follow the way of Jesus. As part of that, the author proposes that it’s best to spend more time in what matters: in worship, and prayer, and with people we love. After some background in the early chapters, including saying, many times, that he often finds himself caught up in hustle and hurry, he gives what he calls four basic principles that can help us in reducing hurry from our lives. 

The first is what he calls ‘solitude and silence’ - the importance of spending time, if only a few minutes, away from distractions and noise and conversation. Even the most extraverted, outgoing person needs time to think, to concentrate on God, to ponder what the Holy Spirit might be saying. He also acknowledges that, for many, this is often an unrealistic ideal. For people working every hour just to make a basic living wage, or for hassled mothers with several small children, for instance, silence may never be an option. For me, solitude and silence are a regular part of my life: I can’t get by without a good amount of time on my own. But it’s good to be reminded to be intentional about my use of such time. 

The second principle the author gives is what he calls ‘Sabbath’. He distinguishes this from a ‘day off’, when we might clean the house or do some shopping. He describes, instead, something that’s lost in the 21st century for almost everyone. He isn’t suggesting something rigid, full of rules and regulations, but a period - ideally 24 hours, sundown to sundown - when everyone in the household switches off their phones and other devices, and spends time intentionally doing things they enjoy. He gives some examples from his own household, and says that it’s his favourite time of the week. 

But, again, he also understands that it’s not something everyone is able to do. And the principle is good: that of spending time, deliberately, with those we care about, without scrolling on phones or checking every alert. It’s something I’ve had to make an effort to do over the past few years: going for a walk, playing board games, perhaps watching a film together. Two or three hours every evening doesn’t equate to one 24-hour period, but it’s still helpful. And taking intentional longer breaks and holiday/vacation is also a good thing, even though - once again - not everyone has the resources to do so. The point is not to be lazy or to give up work and chores, but to take time to rest and recharge, which can help us concentrate and work better at other times. 

The third principle is simplicity, something I agree with in theory; we are far from minimalist in our house, but try not to keep things we no longer need or want. The culture and circles I live in don’t seem overly materialistic to me. I haven’t really come across some of the things the author mentions, such as the desire for more and more acquisitions, or the feeling of never being satisfied. 

The final principle is that of slowing down - of teaching ourselves to deal with frustrations and delays, seeing them as ways to lean on God, or perhaps to converse with others around us. The author gives a list of what he calls ‘gamifying’ ways that people might slow down - I couldn’t relate to some of them, since I don’t drive and don’t know anyone stupid enough to send texts while driving. I try to limit my time on email, social media etc, and I don’t watch any television - just a few hours a week watching DVDs with my husband, as a shared, intentional activity. 

So I’m probably not the target audience of the book; yet there’s still a lot in it which struck me. I don’t find it easy to live in the moment; my mind and imagination are usually somewhere entirely different. I need to read this kind of book every so often to remind me to slow down my mind, and to concentrate on one thing at a time.

The style of writing is quite informal, with big paragraph gaps (and some pages with an annoyingly huge font). This makes the book seem longer than it is - and it could probably have been rather shorter to say the same kind of thing. But I quite like this chatty style, and the feeling of sitting and listening to the author in a relaxed way. 

My only specific gripe with the book is the author’s claim that in 417 hours most people could read 200 books. He proposes this over the course of a year, citing research that suggests that most people read between 200 and 400 words per minute. Something is wrong with the arithmetic. The average, according to what I’ve seen, is more like 250-300 words per minute.  But even 400 words in a minute would be just 24,000 in an hour, or 48,000 in two hours. Most books intended for adults have around 80,000 - 100,000 words, so the fastest of readers would take four hours; for people who read nearer 250 words per minute (and, according to the theory of the book, slowing down is generally a good thing…) it would take at least six hours. 

I was also a bit puzzled by some statistics quoted, such as the number of hours people watch television, on average, or spend on their phones or social media. References are cited and I assume they are correct, but they don’t reflect the habits of people I know.

I realise that this book is not for everyone. Even those, like me, who liked it will find plenty that isn’t relevant, or doesn’t match with our personal experience. But I would recommend it anyway; the principles are, I think, sound and there are some nuggets of wisdom and common sense which are well worth pondering, and perhaps, where possible, pursuing. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Permanent Rose (by Hilary McKay)

(Amazon UK link)

The first time I read the ‘Casson family’ series by Hilary McKay, they were spread over about a year as I gradually acquired them. This time I’ve been reading in chronological order, at a rate of about one per month. I read the third in the series (originally the second), ‘Indigo’s star’, back in July, and was travelling in August. So I’ve only just reread its sequel, ‘Permanent Rose’. I last read this in February 2012 and had forgotten almost all of it. 

Rose, youngest in the Casson family, is nearly nine in this book. She’s a gifted artist with a tremendous imagination. She’s outgoing and inquisitive, as well as very determined. And she’s probably dyslexic, although nobody seems to have realised that yet. 

The story opens as a boy called David makes his way to the Casson house, hoping to see Indigo. David is rather neglected (though he has a grandfather who loves him), and for some years was a thug and a bully. But he’s now reformed, and wants to be Indigo’s friend. He hopes this is possible since Indigo’s previous best friend Tom - who featured heavily in ‘Indigo’s star’ - is back in New York. David isn’t quite prepared for what he finds at the delightfully chaotic Casson home: nude sunbathing in the back garden, for instance. 

The first chapter cleverly introduces each of the family individually without tedious back story; instead it shows them in their different environments and what they’re currently doing or thinking about. David is rather taken with Rose, but she had developed a huge crush on Tom, and misses him even more than Indigo did. Tom has not been in touch, although he promised he would. And nobody in this chaotic family thought to make a note of Tom’s address or phone number.

There’s a series of incidents in the book, many of them involving Rose, but not all of them. Caddy, who is now 18, is engaged to Michael (who also adores Rose) but she’s not sure she wants to marry him. And she keeps losing her ring. Saffy, who was adopted when she was three after her mother died, has a sudden hankering to know who her father is. Indigo is reading and rereading an old book about King Arthur, and sharing snippets with Rose. Eve, mother of the family, is meanwhile painting murals on the local hospital walls.

I’m not sure what it is about these books that makes them so moving. The characters are all slightly caricatured, and yet while reading they feel entirely real. They live in general chaos, making their own rather random meals, since Eve usually stays in her art studio when she’s not working elsewhere. Their father Bill lives in London, in a flat, with his girlfriend Samantha who became known to the family in the previous book. 

I find these books compulsive reading, even though some of the storylines are bizarre in the extreme. Saffy’s friend Sarah, for instance, wants to make a cake for her mother’s birthday, but makes major mistakes three times… including putting popcorn on the top, and assuming that if ingredients are doubled, the cooking time should too.  

But alongside some bickering and crazy events, there’s a strong family bond. They are all really very fond of each other - this is something David finds difficult to understand, as he slowly gets to know the whole family. And I like Rose very much in this book, even though she’s started doing risky things that are morally dubious. She evidently feels a bit neglected herself, as the youngest in the family with an absent father and vague mother. She longs for security: she doesn’t want Caddy to break up with Michael, and she is worried about Indigo becoming friendly with David. She also longs to find out what has happened to Tom. 

Recommended for children of about 9-12, or adults like me who enjoy this kind of book. It would make a good read-aloud for slightly younger children, but note that there are issues relating to what Rose calls the ‘facts of life’ (though nothing explicit) as Saffy does her research. 

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews

Song of the skylark (by Erica James)

(Amazon UK link)

With a few exceptions, I like Erica James’ novels very much. I’m glad I decided to reread them over the past couple of years. The two I liked least first time around proved to be rather more interesting than I had thought. And those I enjoyed the first time have been every bit as readable and moving as they were the first time.

I first read ‘Song of the skylark’ in 2016, and had entirely forgotten both the characters and the storyline. But I did recall having liked the book. This time, it was compulsive reading; it’s not a short book, but I finished it in just three days. 

Lizzie is the main character, and she’s a very well-drawn one with plenty of faults. We first meet her when she’s feeling sorry for herself after losing her job. She’s aware that she hasn’t behaved well - an affair with one’s married boss is not generally recommended - but she still feels that she was treated badly. Her former boss, Curt, hasn’t lost his job and he’s said he’ll stay in touch. He has said he will leave his wife, and Lizzie trusts him implicitly. 

Meanwhile she’s gone to live with her parents temporarily, since she can no longer afford any rent. She’s applied for lots of other jobs in London, but with no luck. So her mother suggests she volunteer at a local care home, where they encourage visitors to chat to residents, and generally help out. Lizzie isn’t keen on this idea, but decides, with bad grace, to try it out. On the first day she meets Mrs Dalloway, who’s in her late 90s. Lizzie nearly tips Mrs Dalloway out of her wheelchair, but not quite. And they get talking. 

Lizzie’s former job was as a researcher, and she’s very good at asking basic leading questions. She’s also very good at listening. And Mrs Dalloway tells a good story. Her name is Clarissa, and she was born in the United States, although her mother was English. At 19, having lost both her parents, she decides to visit England and see if she can meet her estranged British grandparents. Her only relative in the US is her wealthy American grandmother. 

From this point, Lizzie’s story is interspersed with Clarissa’s, which is in stark contrast. She crosses the Atlantic in a luxury liner in the spring of 1939. There are rumours of war in Europe, but she doesn’t really believe it. She meets the film star Effie Chase and her two good friends, Ellis and Artie. For the first time in her life, she feels free, and is determined to be more confident and outgoing. 

Her visit to her English grandparents starts with a disaster, but gradually they become close… and she can no longer easily return to the US once war is declared. But she’s full of courage and determination. She persuades her grandparents to take in two German Jewish refugee boys, and she meets and falls in love with an airman… 

The story takes place over several visits, and in between we see Lizzie as she starts thinking about her life and what she might do long-term. She’s made a lot of mistakes and hurt a lot of people. But Mrs Dalloway’s story makes her feel rather humbled. 

There are other characters in the book: I liked Lizzie’s parents very much, and her young nephew Freddie, too. Lizzie has a twin brother Luke, who is far more laid-back and peaceloving than she is. Luke is married to the rather uptight Ingrid who likes her life to be organised and efficient, and who disapproves of Lizzie’s lifestyle. So there are family dynamics and stresses going on, covered in a realistic and mostly encouraging way.

When I read a dual-timeframe story, I sometimes skim the ‘past’ sections a bit, as I find the ‘now’ chapters more interesting. But in this book I was gripped by Clarissa’s story, which is full of war-related tragedy; nothing gratuitous but a lot that’s very moving. It makes Lizzie realise how her own problems are quite minor by comparison, and gives her the impetus to start being more positive about herself and her relationships.

There’s a bittersweet - but entirely expected - ending, and much that’s left open as far as Lizzie is concerned. But I didn’t mind that. She’s grown and changed in the course of just a few weeks, and the outcome for her is positive, whatever happens.

Definitely recommended if you like character-based women's fiction.

Review copyright 2025 Sue's Book Reviews