Éric Chacour – What I Know About You
Posted 14th October 2024
Category: Reviews Genres: 2020s, Commentary, LGBT, Political, Social
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Sorting through another’s life.
Through a second person narrative we learn about Dr Tarek. In the 1960s when Tarek was a child, everyone said he’d grow up to be a doctor like his father, so in deference to that, he did. Working in Egypt in the area of Cairo full of those originally from other countries, Tarek gets married (finally – his sister gave him awful advice the first time he met Mira), and, later, starts a clinic in a district marked by poverty. He meets Ali, who begs Tarek to see his, Ali’s, mother because he believes she’s ill. After becoming a regular at the family’s dinner table, Tarek promises Ali’s mother that he’ll look after her son, but when Tarek falls in love with Ali that looking after becomes something far from the socially acceptable doctor and assistant friendship. Tarek leaves Egypt for Canada. Our narrator knows a lot but they’re trying to piece more together. Who is this narrator and what do they want with Tarek and his story?
What I Know About You is Chacour’s debut novel about the absence of family members and the effect it has. Translated into English from the French by Pablo Strauss, and having won French literary prizes in the early double figures, the novel offers a look at life for LGBT people in 20th century Egypt, an introduction to westerners of a particular way of life in a poverty-stricken district of Cairo, and a second person narrator two has a mysterious quest and potential axe to grind.
Addressing the writing first, that most controversial of perspectives, it is one of Chacour’s main focuses. The author has spoken in interviews about placement of sentences where it concerns keeping the reader on the page and, in parallel, getting them to turn over the page in haste1. Then you have the use of the nursery rhyme Mary Mary Quite Contrary, where the narrator uses different descriptors for Tarek’s wife, Mira2.
The book also makes use of first and third person in addition to the second, and there are patches of letters (they are short). These persons allow Chacour to fully explore the character at the heart of the book, Tarek, to do what many second person authors do not and include the subject in a more objective manner, which gives Tarek more of a voice. (Although the first person is not lent to Tarek, he does get a third person narrative far away from the second person narrator. Interestingly, the first person is reserved for the narrator of the second person – yes, there’s a reason Chacour is winning all those prizes, the structure is fascinating.)
The characters, as a feature, are necessarily difficult to write about due to the second person narrative. The narrator being the only person we know, truly, is probably most ripe for comment – they are, as expected, continually mysterious until that time they choose to reveal themselves and when they do reveal themselves it is very much to Tarek and not to us. The narrator doesn’t care about us; the narrator does not consider us at all because their words are for Tarek only, at no point are we addressed in any way. We, the readers – the end readers, if you will – are technically eavesdropping, which is a fascinating aspect all by itself.
What can be said apart from the mystery, is that the narrator is as good a writer as their puppeteer, Chacour (there is an element of theatre in the book by the way of its inspiration, Romeo And Juliet). The narrator is measured, considered, and feels a need to construct a story out of the few points they know to be true.
As to what we know about the other characters, we do get ‘closer’ perspectives of some of them where the present day, or near-present day is concerned, otherwise there is, again, some potential make-believe. So, to speak of the make-believe, they are well-drawn – where our narrator can’t tell all, Chacour’s readers will be able to read between the lines somewhat. The standout, I think, is the housekeeper, Fatheya, who is treated poorly by her main employer (Tarek’s mother), but is a wonderful aid to others.
In terms of story and location, the book moves between Egypt in the 20th century with Tarek, Egypt in the 21st century, and some wonderful third person snapshots in Montreal. To speak further of the sections in Montreal would spoil the book, but the sections in 20th century Egypt can be discussed further.
Chacour has a few focuses here, as noted before – the LGBT experience and poverty in the Mokattem district, as well as glimpses into the Levantine community of Cairo and a backdrop of political change. The latter is quick to sum up: the president changes, and there is the Six Day War, which Chacour weaves around his fiction so that certain events in his book coincide with the reality. These features are commented on on occasion by the narrator. The Levantine community of people who immigrated (or whose parents immigrated) to Egypt from surrounding countries adds flavour to the set of characters, providing a different perspective and contrast with which to comment on general goings on.
The first two focuses mentioned – now mentioned three times (I’ll stop here!) require their own paragraphs. The look at the LGBT experience is present in some way, shape, or form throughout, as the main character becomes a member of the community, if only at the periphery (to our knowledge, at least), and then Chacour inserts descriptions of the ways same-sex relationships were viewed at the time in various parts of the novel, including long before the actual defining relationship takes place. There is a nod to how same-sex relationships could be conducted, too – it is necessarily brief, owing to the decisions made and plot points involved, but it’s very well done. A defining section of the novel brings evidence to all the commentary that has come before, and shows the reason such commentary has been so consistently included.
The look at Mokattem is important in terms of character and also in terms of the information it imparts. Mokattem is a district in the greater Cairo area populated by very poor families living in makeshift houses, however they have a particular way of life that was quite successful in the 20th century and is being lost to technological progress in the 21st. People there collect rubbish from all around and successfully recycle the vast majority of it, beating the recycling percentages of a great many countries (approximately 80% of rubbish is recycled). What cannot be recycled does unfortunately remain in heaps and hills within the district. Chacour balances well the good and the bad, showing the work ethic and positive environmental impact, while also the effects of the waste on the land and in the community as a whole.
What I Know About You is super – a work of fiction written with tremendous attention to literary detail, to historical description and comprehension for the reader, and with an ever-present page-turning factor as the narrator stays in the metaphorical shadows for as long as they can bear to. Not one to be forgotten any time soon, the book offers a multi-aspect experience that is enjoyable both in general and on a literary level. And if it goes on to continue winning prizes, this reviewer will not be surprised.
I was sent this book in order to interview the author.
Publisher: Gallic Books (Belgravia)
Pages: 242
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-913-54785-1
First Published: 24th August 2023; 19th September 2024 in English
Date Reviewed: 30th September 2024
Original language: French
Original title: Ce que je sais de toi (What I Know About You)
Translated by: Pablo Strauss
Footnotes
1 Chacour has spoken about it on a few occassions, including this time, a video interview with Radio Canada.
2 It should be noted that this device is in fact the translator’s – in my interview with Chacour, episode 114, which will be published early next year, Chacour speaks of the ways the French text in this regard is different.
Episode 107: Jessica Bull (Miss Austen Investigates)
Charlie and Jessica Bull (Miss Austen Investigates) discuss Jane Austen! The mysteries in her books, what and how she read, her likely views on slavery, her forgotten brother, the proposals of marriage she received (there were many!), and her life in her birthplace of Steventon.
If you’re unable to use the media player above, this page has various other options for listening as well as the transcript.
Eliza Chan – Fathomfolk
Posted 7th October 2024
Category: Reviews Genres: 2020s, Fantasy, Social
Comment?
Wishing they could be a bigger part of that world.
Half-siren Mira is the token employee of the Tiankawi Border Guards – she’s made it to captain but she’s got to watch her step, be a model employee and prioritise the example she’s setting as a fathomfolk immigrant in a human land. Water dragon Nami is newly-arrived in Tiankawi; her mother set her the task of finding her dragon pearl, and now Nami is here she’s starting to see the discrimination her people face – she might be sister of the ambassador but his place in society isn’t entirely secure either. And sea-witch Cordelia is wanting bargains, to protect her husband who is unaware he married a fathomfolk and would be furious if he found out, and to protect her children. And all the while a group of disenfranchised youngsters are looking to protest in a way the city will not be able to ignore.
Fathomfolk is an utterly incredible fantasy that has its basis in The Little Mermaid (Mira doesn’t have a singing voice, any more information would spoil the story) and skirts the edges of literary fiction in the way it handles its core subject of immigration; whilst certainly a fantasy (water dragons are folklore after all) it offers a conversation on questions people of different backgrounds ask every day in our real world.
Certainly you can read the book as a straight-out fantasy but reading with consideration to the real world topics in tandem does lend itself to a more interesting experience and, arguably, more enjoyable experience, too. Chan looks at the discrimination migrants face when they leave their homes to travel to a more secure environment – there are asylum aspects here – but also the ‘simple’ act of discrimination caused by people seeing those who are different as bad. This is where my statement about reading this as fantasy or as an allegorical work comes in – on the one hand we have a host of fantastical beings taken from various folklores from around our world, and on the other we have the fact of gills marking people out as not ‘one of us’ (most fathomfolk can shape-shift into human form and often do to make the humans around them feel more comfortable).
To comment on the various folklores, there are the afore-mentioned water dragons, sea-witchs (well, only one in this book), and sirens. There are kelpies and kappas, mermaids – of course – and others. (The main and secondary fathomfolk characters are from the species I’ve named.) This brings a very decent level of diversity to the book by itself, and it’s all set against the backdrop of a quasi-East Asian city, the half-submerged Tiankawi. Location is important – we also see the underwater settlements and some not-so-nice holding places for the incoming migrants of yore – but the characters and people in general are understandably at the forefront.
Plot meets characterisation – it’s safe to say that with, particularly the younger, fathomfolk becoming ever more angry with the situation they are in and distrustful of the humans, there is progression towards change in this book. There are conversations from various sides of the conversational spectrum, workings to change things from the inside out, and various allies. A particularly shocking discovery towards the end that veers into sci-fi territory and has been pretty well hidden by Chan throughout her inferences to something going on, asks further questions. The ending itself could be considered controversial – it won’t please everyone but it definitely keeps the discussion going and holds promise for the second book (this is book one in a duology).
The writing is good, descriptive, and changing when the perspective changes. Chan favours explanatory language and understanding, has a strong handle on when to change the scenery and focus, and does an excellent job of balancing your interest between the three narratives with their different social positions and classes (folk from higher social classes, like dragons, are accepted). You don’t get a human narrative thread, but the secondary characters – both the humans and fathomfolk – fill you in on what you need to know. In terms of pacing, it’s worth noting that the story is fairly slow for approximately the first half in order to allow for characterisation before the second half fully dons the plot and speeds things up.
Where we have the resistance group we have another side of the story, again balanced well. The Drawbacks allow Chan to contrast moderation and extremism, giving the latter a fair say and placement to explain themselves whilst comparing them to the others. There’s also a thread about manipulation and how far people will go for their cause and leader.
There is a romance. It’s far from a main event – Fathomfolk is not a romantasy – but it lends itself to further Chan’s main points while never getting bogged down in them.
As you might be able to tell from this decidedly lacklustre review, it’s difficult to talk about this book without getting close to spoilers, so I’m going to stop here. This is a book for anyone who likes the sound of the basic premise and fantasy in general. And as to the topics involved, I’m creating the phrase ‘literary plus’ – I think the content here will interest a fair few people who tend to stick to literary fiction, too.
Publisher: Orbit (Hachette)
Pages: 417
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-356-52239-5
First Published: 27th February 2024
Date Reviewed: 29th September 2024
Gill Paul – Scandalous Women
Posted 13th September 2024
Category: Reviews Genres: 2020s, Books About Books, Commentary, Historical, Social
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Because women can write and sell books, too.
In the US, Jacqueline Susann is looking to be on the bestseller list with her debut novel, the forthcoming Valley Of The Dolls. Early on she gets breast cancer and makes a pact with God to give her ten more years in which to make enough money so that her autistic son is taken care of for the rest of his life. Meanwhile, in the UK, Jackie Collins is concerned with the breakdown of her marriage to a very mentally ill man and putting food on the table – she wants to start writing. And back state-side, Nancy moves to New York to pursue her dream of becoming an editor. All three women must learn to work with and subvert the stereotypes and sexism they come across to be the successes they know they can be.
Scandalous Women is Paul’s latest novel, about Jacqueline Susann and Jackie Collins (and also the purely fictional Nancy), is a story of strength, women’s agency, and, arguably, the literary industry in the 1960s and 1970s. Told in the third person via the three women quoted, Paul is able to deliver a lot of information alongside her fictionalisation of a momentous change for women authors, including the period’s steps in the struggle for women to be accepted as equals.
Paul has an uncanny talent for creating not just an interesting story but diving under the surface and serving up information in a way that makes you speed through the book at a rate of knots in order to devour it. She is here, as always, able to present a story in biographical fiction form where you know that you can rest assured that if whatever you’re reading in any given moment is not true, it’s either not too far from the truth or a real possibility that could have been.
There is some great and subtle intertextuality here as well as whatever the term is (or would be, if there isn’t one) for an effective inter-biography-textuality. Paul’s Jacqueline, in particular (Jackie has her moments, too) makes a point of telling various people, generally interviewers or her fellows in the publishing industry, about – when criticised for not being literary – how she concentrates on storytelling and how fiction for women that looks at sex is absolutely fine. (She’s selling bestsellers by the thousands, constantly, after all – Google says it’s at 40 million now). Paul’s prose fits this perfectly – her usual straight-forward and very welcome style seems here to be fine-tuned to her subjects; this book is particularly accessible, meaning that you can focus on the plot and themes and there is never any need to re-read what you’ve read in order to understand it. This accessibility is a big part of why the thematic sections of the book, where they pertain to publishing industry concepts and history, are so fascinating; it’s like the success of the advertising aspects of Paul’s previous book, A Beautiful Rival, only with further concentration and exploration applied.
Paul has brought the real people to life; Jacqueline and Jackie are here completely and understandably, but their husbands – lesser-known if Wikipedia is correct – and others burst from the page as well. They feel true to life – Jacqueline’s mix of business and kindness can be seen in various interviews, for example. She’s rather inspiring – she’ll make sure you know how much she’s sold but she’ll also remember things about you she can ask about later to show that she gives a damn, and while that may help her gain admiration it also very much does come as a kindness too. (Yes, I have been rather taken by the interviews I’ve watched1.)
A paragraph break must be made here to discuss the meetings between Jacqueline and Jackie. There is no solid evidence that this happened but in true Gill Paul style, a conclusion has been reached after assessing the probabilities (in this case that they attended many of the same events) and the fiction spun from there. There’s a very caring conversational thread towards the end that really shows off the reasoning Paul has applied to her choice to have the two know each other.
Back to characterisation, and the fictional people are just as great as the factual. Their development is strong, with a particular note needing to be made for the most important fictional character, Nancy. It’s fair to say that you may just find Nancy to be your favourite; perhaps due to the fiction and the relative lack of limitations Paul had when creating her (she did still have to be woven around the reality) there is just that little bit more development, and of course Nancy is where the publishing industry itself comes alive.
You may wish sometimes that it hadn’t come alive. One of the focuses of Scandalous Women is the misogyny of the publishing industry of the time – the sheer number of men versus women, the side-lining of women, and the sexism, which is shown both in dialogue and in actions. (As an example, Nancy must slide down a fireman’s pole in her skirt in order to get one of her jobs, and yes, that is based on fact.) Nancy has a tough time convincing her boss and everyone else to give women’s writing a chance, even when those same writings are doing fantastically across the pond. And Jacqueline and Jackie, despite being bestsellers, have their own snarky remarks and harassment to deal with. They’ve more agency to respond with due to their relative standing compared to Nancy but it still reads as ridiculous, and, sadly, very real. And on other topics it’s not a spoiler to note, Paul includes Jacqueline’s religious belief, struggles with cancer, and motherhood, carefully and with full respect to the real woman.
If there is anything wanting, this reviewer wished there was just that bit more narrative, for the fictional Nancy to be given more time – her fascinating career in motion and her story, albeit tied up well at the end, was ever intriguing, and that is entirely down to the storytelling.
Scandalous Women is, then, a fantastic look at two of the women who were the defining people of a defining moment in the publishing industry. Full of information and period detail as well as a solid page-turner factor, it’ll entice you, make you want to know more and, if you haven’t read them already, you’re going to finish it wanting to go and pick up those novels that were oh so indecent.
I was given my copy of this book by the author.
Publisher: Avon (HarperCollins)
Pages: 365
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-008-53216-1
First Published: 13th August 2024
Date Reviewed: 9th September 2024
Footnotes
1 One such interview is Susann’s interview on Good Afternoon in 1973
Jessica Bull – Miss Austen Investigates
Posted 6th May 2024
Category: Reviews Genres: 2020s, Books About Books, Domestic, Historical, Mystery, Social
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Please note that this review uses ‘Jane Austen’ and ‘Austen’ to refer to the real writer, and ‘Jane’ to refer to Bull’s fictionalisation of the same.
Catherine Morland would be proud.
When Jane comes back to the ball from the glasshouse where she’d been talking to Tom Lefroy, no one is speaking. A woman has been murdered; no one knows who she is or, indeed, who’s done it. The magistrate starts to get on with it but Jane has her misgivings about him and as the days continue and he hasn’t reached a conclusion nor, as far as Jane is concerned, made a proper effort to find out whodunnit, she decides to conduct her own investigation. Her family aren’t keen – it’s a bit of a silly idea, and Jane manages to cause great offence in her efforts to find out the truth, but it becomes all too important to her to solve when her brother is arrested. But there’s also Tom’s likely impending proposal to prepare for and cousin Eliza’s coming to Steventon. Will Jane work it out before it’s too late and will Tom ever get down on one knee?
Jessica Bull’s Miss Austen Investigates (or The Hapless Miliner across the pond), is an utterly delightful fictional take on Jane Austen’s years in Steventon, largely influenced by Northanger Abbey. In essence it is a bit of a parody of an actual parody, one absolutely brimming with excellent research, immersive use of location, careful and comedic and sensitive handling of real families from the past, and interesting fairly evidence-based interpretations. And yes, all those adjectives were necessary to include – this book is one of the most well-produced literary works I’ve read in a long time.
It is obvious very early on that everything Bull does in this book, all the choices she makes, has or have been fully thought out. Let’s start with the general concept – the influence of Northanger Abbey on the text. Bull’s fictionalisation of Jane Austen is partly informed by what we know of Austen herself, and partly informed by Austen’s character, Catherine Morland. (This latter person is most in evidence when our titular character of the book this review is about becomes incredibly illogical and won’t be drawn by reason, much like our dear Catherine.) Bull’s balancing of the different personalities into one character – I say ‘different’ even though I myself believe it’s likely Austen herself was remarkably fun – won’t be for everyone, in fact it’s likely some readers may find her silliness too much, but I’d wager most people will ‘get’ it at the very least.
Of course it’s also in the element of the mystery here that Catherine Morland can be found; Bull’s novel is very much a mystery novel and well set in its time and society – Jane never goes around with the historical equivalent of a policeman and no one is shooting anyone, instead Jane’s investigations largely take the form of musings and a couple of brief questions here and there over a cup of tea and slice of cake at various houses.
(This in itself is something to remark upon – Bull’s setting Jane as the sleuth enables a look at how women were treated more as decorations and possessions rather than people. There’s a particularly sad scene wherein the funeral of the murder victim – a woman – is attended by just a few men and Jane hides herself outside because as a woman she cannot be at the funeral. See also the way Jane is asked to stop investigating – whilst this is in line with Catherine Morland’s experiences it also aligns with the historical treatment of women in her position.)
Looking at location and society – friends and family, mostly – this is arguably where most of the heart in the book can be found. Bull has recreated the village of Steventon and the now-lost Steventon Rectory where Austen grew up (it was torn down within a few years of the Austen family moving away) and looked at Ashe House and Deane House in the nearby villages of the same names (which still exist and are privately owned). The sense of place and time is fantastic and it’s easy to get lost in the world and carry on turning the pages. Bull also shows Jane’s time with her family and there is a lot of fun to be had in the dynamics between members, particularly baby Anna (made younger in this book than she would have been in real life) and Jane’s mother, Mrs Cassandra Austen.
What’s really lovely though, is that Bull has put so much work into the whole family that you’ll feel you know them more than you ever could have before. About half of Austen’s siblings are included in these fictionised forms, with James, Henry, and George paramount. (Sadly Cassandra isn’t here, but that is in keeping with her story and it allows for Bull to add an element of the epistolary novel to the book.)
George Austen is where it’s at. George is largely forgotten in our collective history, almost certainly because of what we would now call epilepsy, and the relative menial role he therefore played in society. (Case in point – there’s a Wikipedia link for every sibling, except him.) He plays a big role in the book, with Jane always thinking about him in context with what’s going on. Another character, Jane’s cousin, Eliza, who’s son has epilepsy also, is there to help her with her investigations and there is a lovely burgeoning romance with Henry Austen that’s based on the real history, too.
The writing is super, with most of the narrative in third person and Jane’s letters to Cassandra giving a first person perspective. Bull has used the format the late Deirdre Le Faye gave Austen’s letters in Jane Austen’s Letters which provides a lovely nod to study and research. Bull has also slipped her letters in the gaps between the letters that were burned by the real life Cassandra, and added her own nod to this unfortunate piece of history in the letters themselves.
I can’t end this review without mentioning Tom Lefroy; Bull has come to an evidence-based conclusion as to the nature of Austen’s relationship with him and explored it in her book. It is very well done and there are further choices made that increase her character’s agency.
There is a lot more that could be said about this book – it’s a treasure trove of parodies and references – but a review can only be so long. Miss Austen Investigates is one you certainly want to read if you are at all a Janeite, or/and if you like mysteries. It may even suit your general historical fiction fan, as well. It is an absolute delight, and joy or joys, book two is already on the horizon.
I received this book from the publisher in order to interview the author, which is something I set in motion.
Publisher: Michael Joseph (Penguin Random House)
Pages: 435
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-241-64208-5
First Published: 25th January 2024
Date Reviewed: 30th April 2024
Kristy Woodson Harvey – The Wedding Veil
Posted 4th December 2023
Category: Reviews Genres: 2020s, Historical, Romance, Social
2 Comments
Kristy Woodson Harvey wanted to write about a wedding veil. Her agent suggested a historical wedding veil, and when Woodson Harvey started thinking about the Vanderbilts (because she loved visiting Biltmore House, the family’s home in Asheville, North Carolina), on a whim she Googled one of the women of the family to see if there might be a veil included somewhere. There was.
In the present day, Julia is about to marry Hayes, her long-term on-again-off-again boyfriend. During her bridemaid’s lunch at Biltmore House the day before, there’s a sudden load of pings; all the women’s phones go off with notifications. Someone has filmed Hayes cheating and sent it to everyone at the lunch. Julia is devastated but she’s been with Hayes so long and they always make up and get back together, so she says she’ll still marry him. The next day she puts on the family wedding veil; it brings good luck. And she will marry Hayes… well, she means to but then to heck with it, she does a runner and by the end of it all she finds herself on her honeymoon by herself thinking about all the things she gave up and being drawn to a man she meets early into the holiday. At the same time, narrative-wise, in the 1800s, Edith Dresser is about to marry into the Vanderbilt family; she wears her family’s wedding veil (yes, there is no sense in hiding it – there is a connection) and finds herself in a happy marriage that later produces Cornelia, the next in line to inherit the family’s wealth.
The Wedding Veil is Woodson Harvey’s wonderful stand-alone novel of the lasting power of female friendship and familial love, romantic love and being who you should be… and the mystery behind where Julia’s family’s wedding veil came from. Told via four narratives (Julia’s grandmother Babs and Cornelia Vanderbilt round us off) the book offers a wholesome, winsome, story that is pretty much guaranteed to delight.
Woodson Harvey is great at character development and her way of writing is absolutely lovely; from the first page you’re very much invited to join the story. The author has a particular talent for writing characters which means that even if there’s one you don’t like (you’re not going to like Hayes, for example, and for a few pages you may not even like Julia) you’re totally invested in the tale. And in the case of Woodson Harvey, writing definitely needs to be placed in the same paragraph in a review as her character development because they are part and parcel of each other; in the author’s Southern States setting and general ambiance, you get a complete sense of calm, of escape, of knowing you’re about to be whisked away into a well-told story.
That is, I think, the exact defining element of this author’s work – her ability to give you that promise, through her writing, of having chosen the right book and take you on a great journey; maybe you know where it’ll end up, maybe you won’t (Woodson Harvey definitely knows how to get the balance right between mystery and predictability), but you are guaranteed a satisfying story no matter what.
So you’ve got four fab narratives here – 1800s’ Edith Vanderbilt, whose husband George built the Biltmore House in Asheville, Cornelia (their daughter) born in 1900, and then Julia and Babs from the present day. Edith’s narrative allows you to see the Vanderbilt family in their prime, and then Cornelia’s shows the slow decline, her narrative straddling the fence of before the Great Depression and the aftermath. There is also, of course, the look at both women in their own rights as well as their relationship with each other and the way they both ‘deal’ with romance. Julia’s narrative offers a sad but busy beginning and a happier forward journey, showing how one can get swamped and lose themselves in a bad relationship and the change that can come from a better one, whereas Babs shows two good relationships – one in absentia, so to speak (Reid is dead) – and, perhaps most importantly, that love can happen at any age. Writing older women, giving them a voice and putting them front and centre of the narrative is another thing that Woodson Harvey does well.
Of the Vanderbilts’ lives, then, you see the opulence and the glamour but also – perhaps in part due to Woodson Harvey’s knowledge of Biltmore – the real life, down-to-earth stuff, too. You get the Gilded Age and the way the family looked after all the employees and tenants of the estate, and the perspective, narration-wise, that Woodson Harvey uses, allows for a particular readerly intimacy with it all.
But Julia and Babs would say they are just as important. They might not have the same glamour but they do have their modern day relatability and two lovely romances. Both also have their character progression and their relationship with each other which, I think this can be said without spoiling the book, is what we end the story on.
There’s a lot to love about this book – Julia spends a while (page-wise) in the Virgin Islands, sun, sea, sand, Babs’ retirement village is very well described and fun, and the Vanderbilts bring some fascinating history into the mix. The romantic leads are winsome, whilst being very much secondary characters and rightly so.
In short, if you haven’t already figured it out by what I assume is my very obvious attempt and failure to explain exactly what I like about this book, it’s the atmosphere and the sum of the writing and the specific vibes that make this book what it is – things that are difficult to describe.
The Wedding Veil just… rocks. It’s poignant, it will occasionally make you want to tell a character to stop thinking what they’re thinking (okay, not ‘a’ character, mostly Julia when she’s thinking that maybe her cheating fiancé isn’t so bad), and it simply provides a glorious reading experience. The ambiance ensures that while, over time, you might forget the little things, you certainly won’t forget the feeling of reading this book and you will certainly miss it once it’s over.
Publisher: Gallery Books (Simon & Schuster)
Pages: 395
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-982-18071-3
First Published: 29th March 2022
Date Reviewed: 4th December 2023