The Grand Sophy (by Georgette Heyer)

(Amazon UK link)

I do enjoy re-reading my Georgette Heyer novels every six or seven years, and while I recall the overall plots reasonably well, I have always forgotten the details. And Heyer’s writing is not just authentic - her research was impeccable - but quite amusing in places. Her characters are well-rounded, and many of her heroines strong-minded women, unusual for the Regency era in which she mostly set her stories. I last read 'The Grand Sophy' at the end of 2014, and decided it was a good idea to read it again.

Sophy, the main protagonist of this novel, has travelled around the world with her unconventional father Sir Horace. She’s twenty, and for the past couple of years has acted as his hostess, unchaperoned as her governess died a couple of years earlier. But Sir Horace is about to go to Brazil, and he feels he cannot take Sophy with him. He wants her to get into London society, and perhaps find a husband.

So he arrives at his sister Lady Ombersley’s home, and announces his intention of leaving Sophy to her care for the next few months, or however long he’s away. Lady Ombersley is not at all sure about this; she has a large family and her eldest son Charles is insisting on strict economies as Lord Ombersley’s gaming debts have been a huge drain on the estate, leaving them struggling to pay bills.

But Sophy arrives, and immediately becomes friendly with her cousin Cecilia, who is just a year younger. Cecilia has fallen in love with the poet Augustus Fawnhope, who is remarkably good-looking, but entirely self-centred, determined to write poems on every occasion. Sophy also realises that her cousin Hubert, who’s just a year or so older than she is, is in some kind of trouble. But he daren’t mention it to Charles, who is hot-tempered and becomes scathing and rude.

Charles, moreover, is engaged to be married to the delightfully dreary and upright Eugenia who talks of morals, and duty, and never does anything remotely interesting. She is shocked at Sophy’s free and easy ways, and her confident manner. And horrified that she gives the younger children a parrot and a monkey…

Sophy, who thought she might be bored in London, realises that she has to take a hand in the affairs of her cousins - she’s a first-class meddler, with everyone’s best interests at heart, and a talent for making plans that, on the whole, work out as she expects. In the course of the book she borrow a horse without permission, visits an unscrupulous moneylender, sells some earrings, invites many more people to a party than her aunt is expecting, nurses a very sick child, and flirts with several different men whom she has no intention of marrying. Most of those around her appreciate her spirit and big-heartedness, once they are used to her, but others find her irritating or worse.

It’s a fast-paced story, one I found difficult to put down once I’d started, even though I knew how it would turn out. But I smiled in many places as Heyer shows her characters by what they say and do, and makes gentle fun of the particularly dull or boring ones. There’s a big gathering of most of the protagonists towards the end, a device fairly common in Heyer’s novels, although rather than all being together they arrive in groups and leave with different people.

The endings of Heyer’s novels usually include a declaration or proposal, and this is no exception, although it’s rather more abrupt as an ending than other novels, and is not classically romantic. But there’s still a sense that the right people have finally ended up together, and that Sophy’s interference and high-handedness have been justified. Her future is likely to be full of conflict, but also of excitement and passion.

Recommended if you like this kind of historical light romance.

Review copyright 2021 Sue's Book Reviews

Mum and Dad (by Joanna Trollope)

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve enjoyed almost all the novels I’ve read by Joanna Trollope over the past couple of decades. So when I learned that she had a new book published last year, I put it on my wishlist as soon as it was available in paperback, and was given it for Christmas. It’s sat on my to-be-read shelf for nearly nine months, but I finally picked it up to read a few days ago.

Trollope’s novels are usually character-based, many of them revolving around families, dysfunctional or otherwise. This is no exception. The ‘Mum and Dad’ of the title are Gus and Monica, who are in their seventies and have lived in Spain for the last thirty years or so. Gus has run a very successful vineyard, but he’s cranky and rude, and Monica isn’t even sure she likes him very much any more. They no longer share a bedroom, and she has never really adjusted to life in Spain, although she does love early morning tea on her terrace.

They are surrounded by willing household employees who cook, and clean, and generally look after them. Monica has been nominally in charge of a small shop but that, too, has been staffed and mostly run by others. She has three adult children - Sebastian, Katie and Jake - who all live with their families in the UK, and she misses them. She visits fairly regularly, but they rarely come to see her.

Then a health crisis happens to Gus, and suddenly the family starts to rally round. Gus would like Sebastian to take over running his vineyard, alongside him; but Sebastian’s life is busy, running a cleaning company where his wife Anna does the accounts. They have two very likeable teenage sons, and are very settled. Besides, Anna has never been to Spain, and doesn’t much like Monica.

Katie is a high-powered lawyer who works too hard; she also doesn’t get along very well with Monica, possibly dating back to her childhood. She lives with Nic, who is a teacher and a very likeable, kind person. They have three daughters: Daisy who always wears black and stays out too late, thirteen-year-old Marta who is quiet and secretive, and Florence, who is the youngest and most outspoken.

And then there’s Jake, who is an eternal optimist, in a way that rather irritates his siblings. He insists that he can easily move from London to Spain and take over the running of the vineyard. His wife Bella is not at all sure she wants to, but they are both very committed to their toddler daughter, known as Mouse, so Bella agrees to give it a trial…

I’ve just written all that from memory; all their personalities and issues were realistic enough, and the people sufficiently three-dimensional that I felt as if I were part of the family, observing from a distance but involved enough to care about them all. Except, perhaps, the bad-tempered Gus - but even he starts to show a more human side later in the book.

The plot, as such, is about how the younger generation decide to move forward taking responsibility for their parents and their future inheritance. But the story is really about the interactions between the different family members, and I enjoyed it very much. The writing is excellent - even if it was amusing to spot Joanna Trollope’s signature mark of a beat dropping between significant sentences a few times - and some of the issues raised, about teenage problems and communication between the generations, are quite significant.

Definitely recommended if you like character-driven women’s fiction.

Review copyright 2021 Sue's Book Reviews

Looking forward (by Marcia Willett)

(Amazon UK link)

‘Looking Forward’ is the first book I ever read by Marcia Willett, over twenty years ago (before I started this blog). I found it in a thrift store, at a time when we didn’t have many books, and thought it looked like my kind of novel. I was right - I was instantly involved in the storyline, and when I had finished, I put the two sequels on my wishlist.

I re-read this book back in 2007, so it was well overdue for another re-read. And while I recalled the outline of the plot, particularly the opening scenes, I had forgotten most of the detail. The book starts in the summer of 1957 when three scared and miserable children are waiting at a railway station for their grandmother. The station-master is kindly, and is trying to find out where she is.

Mrs Chadwick - or Freddy, as their grandmother is usually known - arrives feeling stressed, after a minor incident on the road, and a misunderstanding about where the children are going to meet her. And she’s grieving too - their father was her son, and he is dead. Worse, their mother and older brother are also dead, killed in a horrific incident in Kenya, by the resistance Mau-Mau. This sets it in historical context, although it’s not really historical fiction as such; all the characters are fictional.

Fliss - Felicity - is the eldest of the three surviving children, and she’s only eleven. She’s taken on a lot of responsibility since the killing happened, and is so relieved to see her grandmother at last. Her brother Mole is just five, and has become mute since the tragedy. And there’s Susanna, a cheerful child of about two, who doesn’t recall her grandmother at all. But she’s young enough that she has been least affected by what has happened.

It’s a dramatic and emotive start to the novel, without anything gratuitous to make it unpleasant reading. And the story is about the children growing up, while Freddy attempts to deal with her own grieving, and also has to give up her comfortable life in the country, as she attempts to mother and advise her young grandchildren.

The book has four different sections, each one moving forward a few years so that the last part is set in 1970. We see Fliss becoming more independent and Mole beginning to outgrow some of his terrors, in a household of people who are in their sixties at the start; in their mid-to-late seventies by the end of the book. The Chadwick family is unashamedly upper middle class, with boarding school expected for all the children, and most of the men going into the Navy.

But it’s not just about Freddy and her household; we also meet her other grandchildren Hal and Kit, who are twins a few years older than Fliss. Their mother Prue has also been widowed, but it happened during the war and they were babies, so they have grown up without knowing tragedy. Prue doesn’t always get along with Freddy, but they respect each other, and I found I liked her more than I had recalled. She doesn’t entirely ‘fit in’ with the Chadwicks, but that’s not a bad thing.

There are low-key romances, and several threads involving unrequited (or undeclared) love. There are some very poignant moments when I found tears in my eyes, and also a great deal that’s uplifting. I thoroughly enjoyed re-acquainting myself with the Chadwick family, and am already looking forward to re-reading the sequels.

Definitely recommended to all who like women's fiction.

Review copyright 2021 Sue's Book Reviews

The Secret of the Gorge (by Malcolm Saville)

(Amazon UK link)

I’m enjoying my slow re-read of Malcolm Saville’s ‘Lone Pine’ series of adventure stories intended for teenagers. I first came across these books in my early teens, when I discovered a few hardbacks on my grandmother’s shelves. Within the next few years, they were available in Armada paperback, inexpensively, and I gradually acquired the whole series.  But I was never all that keen on the middle books. So in my last read through, over ten years ago, I missed out several of them including ‘The Secret of the Gorge’, which is the eleventh book in the series.

In the last few years, however, I have been able to buy unabridged ‘Girls Gone By’ editions of these books. Some of my Armadas are falling to pieces, and I realised that they were abridged, some of them quite significantly. So I’ve just read this book for the first time in its full version. Since I hadn’t read it at all, even in the abridged version since 1995 or thereabouts, I had entirely forgotten the story, and all the additional characters.

It’s quite an exciting book, although it took me a few chapters to get into it. We meet the villains first: a former butler, who (as we quickly discover) was involved in a theft many years earlier, from a manor which is now about to be demolished. He is recognised by the owner of an inn where he wants to stay, and has to explain what he hopes to do - which is to attempt to discover where the lost diamonds were hidden.

The Lone Piners get involved because Jenny’s father takes her to an auction where he buys a sofa from the manor, and is approached by two men who make him a very high offer for it - but he refuses to accept. Later Jenny discovers part of a letter which has a clue…

Meanwhile, Nicholas Whiteflower, aged 12, is fed up and miserable. His mother died fairly recently and he’s living with his aunt not far from the Post Office where Jenny lives. They’re struggling to survive, and although he’s fond of his aunt he misses his mother, and is very lonely. This makes him rather obnoxious at first, but he makes friends with the Lone Piners, and realises that if they can find the diamonds, then his worries are over.

Of course it’s a preposterous idea, with only the vaguest of clues . It’s also one that’s full of all kinds of danger, since the crooks are after the same thing and are ruthless people who think nothing of getting into fights, locking people in empty buildings, kicking dogs… or worse. But the Lone Piners don’t know, at first, just how dangerous their mission is going to be, nor how difficult. So they set out, with Nicholas, to camp near the manor, and embark on their search.

What’s unusual is that - other than Jenny, and of course Nicholas - nobody is really all that keen on this adventure. They all realise that their chances of discovering the diamonds are minimal, and they don’t like the way that different people keep warning them off. They are told that they can’t go near the manor, as it’s trespassing, as is camping nearby. And the river - with the gorge of the title - is dangerous too. Floods can overtake them suddenly, and the weather isn’t exactly conducive to camping.

There are injuries, fights, dangers in the currents of the river, flooding… and also a lot of courage, integrity and kindness. The full editions of these books have not just description that’s missing from the abridged paperbacks, but interactions between the Lone Piners. There’s more than one hint of the romance to come with David and Peter, but I don’t recall any of that in the Armada book (though I may be wrong). The twins don’t have a huge part to play in this book, and Tom is a bit shadowy, but I liked Nicholas, and Jenny is full of her usual enthusiasm. But David and Peter, who suffer most of the injuries between them, are shown as mature and wise, and willing to risk their lives for what they believe to be right.

Naturally, since this is a children’s book, everything works out well in the end and the villains are booted out, but I thought the way it happens was well done even if it relied on a slightly unlikely coincidence.

So all in all, I enjoyed this book more than I expected to, and would recommend it. As with all the Lone Pine series, it stands alone, but is all the richer in characterisation for being read after the earlier books in the series.

Unfortunately the 'Girls Gone By' editions of these books never stay in print for very long, and are limited in number so second-hand versions can be very pricey. It's worth either waiting for re-prints (which can be years away), or checking for special offers through sites such as the Facebook marketplace, or Abebooks.

Review copyright 2021 Sue's Book Reviews

Looking Good, Being Bad (by Adrian Plass)

(Amazon UK link)

I first read Adrian Plass’s book ‘Looking Good, Being Bad’ back in 2009. It was definitely time for a re-read, but I couldn’t find my copy. I must have lent it to someone years ago, but have no record of whom. So I turned to the AwesomeBooks site, and found an inexpensive edition in the ‘Bargain Bin’. That arrived a few months ago, and I’ve just finished re-reading the book.

Adrian Plass is one of my favourite modern Christian writers. He has a readable, enjoyable style, often including gentle, self-deprecating humour. He also has a tremendous gift for exploring or demonstrating complex issues through his use of satire - and that’s what he does in this book. The ‘story’ is that someone has come across a lengthy report after a somewhat bizarre incident - and the bulk of the book consists of this supposed report.

But that’s just a device to get it going. The idea behind the book is that there’s a particular breed of church-goer - called a ‘Churchman’ (or woman) in the text. Their desire is not to grow closer to God, or to further the Kingdom, but to disconcert speakers, confuse believers, and generally try to reduce any outreach or effectiveness of the Gospel. The ‘report’ essentially explains the best methods for going about Churchmanship, and is full of words such as Disconcertmanship or Communicationmanship, as the author explores the different categories used by his fictional experts in the field.

It’s cleverly done, as a kind of teaching guide for those wishing to be as unhelpful and disruptive as possible, without it being obvious that they have this aim. The aim of Churchmanship, it appears, is to be well-thought-of, pleasantly spoken, welcome at all events… and yet to sow as much discord and confusion as is possible, without anyone quite realising. And while some of the ploys are extreme caricatures, others are all too recognisable - and so the points are well made.

There’s some humour in the writing, mostly in the diagrams or offers of special packages for sale to aid in Churchmanship, some of them more ridiculous than others. It’s not laugh-aloud humour; instead it’s just sufficient to lull the reader into the sense that this doesn’t apply to them... only to realise, a page or two later, that some other recommended technique is just a tad too close to home. Not that most readers will have done these things deliberately. But church circles are remarkable for the sense of wanting to be considered a better person than one is. Ironic, really, given that we Christians are all too aware of our brokenness and sinfulness, and ask forgiveness week by week.

It’s not a book for new believers, or for those outside church circles. And it’s not really for people who might be practising ‘Churchmen’ (or women), who are aware that they belong to churches for the wrong reasons - although they probably won’t recognise themselves. But for Christian leaders, or those who have been around a long time in Christian establishments, it’s a bit of a breath of fresh air, even if much of the content doesn’t apply.

But you have to be in the right mood for this book. If you’re already feeling cynical or disillusioned, it probably won’t help much.

Review copyright 2021 Sue's Book Reviews

A Place Called Winter (by Patrick Gale)

(Amazon UK link)

I’ve only previously read one book by Patrick Gale - ‘The Whole Day Through’ - and while I quite liked it, it didn’t inspire me to look for any more of his books. But our reading group had allocated ‘A Place Called Winter’ for this month’s read, so I was quite looking forward to it.

It starts well, if rather dramatically. Harry - who is the viewpoint character throughout - describes in some detail a rather archaic ‘treatment’ for unspecified crimes in a psychiatric hospital. We learn later that it’s probably around 1920 when this was happening, and that it’s somewhere in Canada.

Although Harry has clearly been subject to this treatment many times, it turns out that he’s having a dream - and he wakes up somewhere different. He’s not quite sure where it is, but the sun is shining, and there are clothes, and no attendants or restrictions. He learns that he’s been released from the hospital to a compound owned by a man called Gideon. Gideon is a doctor but believes that many of the patients - those who are not violent or dangerous - benefit more from pleasant surroundings and in-depth discussion rather than heat, cold or other restrictive ‘treatments’.

Harry’s first session with Gideon leads us to a lengthy flashback, and this is the pattern for the whole novel: short sessions in the ‘Bethel’ community, and then many more chapters as his life progresses to the point at which he has a kind of breakdown due to extreme trauma and is taken to hospital.

The first section recounts his young adulthood; we don’t learn much about his childhood, but by the time he’s in his twenties he’s independently wealthy, and doesn’t see the need for a job. He lives with his younger brother Jack who is training to be a vet. Jack is handsome, confident and sporty, all things which Harry lacks. And yet they get on very well. Jack insists on taking Harry to meet some new friends of his and romantic attachments are formed…

I felt that the book went a bit downhill from this point. Harry’s life becomes secretive and somewhat sordid. The author manages to avoid too much gratuitous detail, but there are some necessary hints and descriptions which I found quite unpleasant. And Harry doesn’t have much character. He feels flat, unreal, right through the book, so I never managed to identify with him at all.

It’s a pity about this, because as the author explains in an epilogue, Harry is based on a real person: the author’s own great-grandfather, who was exiled to Canada for something scandalous. The book is fictional, although it uses clues in his grandmother’s diary and meticulous research, which makes the settings seem quite authentic, even if the people are less believable.

It’s hard to say much more without giving spoilers. Suffice it to say that Harry sails to Canada with the idea of becoming a farmer, even though he has never done any manual labour in his life. He’s persuaded to learn about farming first, by becoming a hired helper, and much of what happens seems believable, and quite interesting, even if the writing is a tad long-winded sometimes.

There’s a villain in the story - a really awful person with no morals to speak of; and yet he’s the one who gives Harry the excellent advice to get some experience first before acquiring on his own plot of land. What the villain does in other places is unspeakably evil, but again it was rather hard to believe in him since he starts off quite friendly, albeit evidently out to make himself some money.

The story is interesting from the social history point of view, including detail about some of the attitudes of Edwardian society to various lifestyles and practices. But the device of it being told to a friendly psychiatrist makes it feel disjointed; and the events at Bethel are not really explored much. I’d love to have known more about the native American customs and beliefs, but these are only touched upon. And a developing friendship comes abruptly to an end, as if the person concerned was no longer of interest to the author.

The writing is mostly good, and the story is well-told. But I didn't feel any connection to any of the characters (except, perhaps, Petra - but she doesn’t appear until over half-way through the book, and is treated very badly by the author in more than one way). And the final pages, with a sort of happy ending, feel contrived.

There’s a lot in the book, and on the whole I’m glad I read it. But - as with the other book I read by Patrick Gale - I won’t be re-reading it. 

Having said that, 'A Place Called Winter' was shortlisted for at least one prize, and is highly regarded by many, so my opinion may be in the minority. If it's not important to you that characters be well-rounded and sympathetic, you might enjoy it considerably more than I did.

Review copyright 2021 Sue's Book Reviews

The last continent (by Terry Pratchett)

(Amazon UK link)

‘The Last Continent’, 22nd in the late Sir Terry Pratchett’s lengthy Discworld series, was published in 1998. We have the hardback edition, so must have acquired it soon after publication; possibly I read it aloud to my sons, or we might have read it separately. In any case, it was before I started this blog in the spring of 1999, and I haven’t read it since then. So it’s not surprising that my memory of it was almost non-existent.

I did recall that the continent of the title, Fourecks (or XXXX) is broadly based on Australia, although at the start of the book the author insists that it isn’t actually that country - just rather loosely Australian. And, as is the norm with the Discworld series it’s full of references and allusions, many of which are to animals, plants or cultural norms in Australia, albeit in a highly caricatured sense.

‘The Last Continent’ is a story about the Discworld wizards, and as such continues from where ‘Interesting Times’ left off. Rincewind was sent to Fourecks, and we see him trudging through the desert, finding what food he can from local wildlife, falling into rapidly emptying waterholes. He’s watched over by the creator, and accompanied, at times, by a talking kangaroo.

Rincewind might not be a very good wizard, but he is excellent at surviving impossible circumstances, and escaping from danger. He uses these skills many times in this book, including an episode where he is wrongly arrested for sheep-stealing, and sentenced to be hanged. The creator wants him to discover what’s happening to all the water, but nobody will believe him when he talks about rain.

What Rincewind doesn’t know is that the Unseen University wizards want to find him. The Librarian (who has been an ape for as long as anyone can recall) is very ill. But they can’t help him with magic because nobody knows his name. It’s suggested that Rincewind might, as they used to work together. So they decide to track him down… and in the bizarre way that the Discworld functions - and even more so in the Unseen University - they discover a kind of portal to a tropical island, which just happens to be not too far from Fourecks.

Of course nothing is straightforward, and the book switches from Rincewind to the other wizards - and many other folk met along the way - before they finally meet up. The Librarian keeps changing shape as he’s unable to control his morphic field, and the geeky Ponder Stibbons figures out that they’re not just on another continent, but are back in time, many thousands - or possibly millions - of years earlier. The wizards encounter one of my favourite of Pratchett’s inventions, the God of Evolution; one part of the book which I had remembered was the creature considered the pinnacle of his creation (shudder).

It’s not the kind of humour to appeal to everyone; satire abounds, cultural references are everywhere, and fun is poked not just at Australians but at human nature, at religious belief, and even at reproduction. Pratchett never minced words. I always like spotting the references - many of them obvious in this, including finally discovering just why the platypus is as it is… and the way the author plays with history, and the idea of time travel, and whether or not people can affect their own futures by changing history. Or prehistory, perhaps.

I didn’t entirely follow all the plot developments but it doesn’t much matter. The Discworld books are meant to be light and frivolous - although deeper truths are regularly uncovered, and in poking fun at the wizards, the author points out many inconsistencies and fixed ideas that are all too prevalent in everyday life.

I liked this book very much, and hope it won’t be another twenty-four years before I read it again. Best read after at least a few of the earlier Discworld books.

Review copyright 2021 Sue's Book Reviews