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

The ultimate unreliable narrator.

Twelve year old Edith lives permanently in her father’s theatre, the only theatre remaining in Edwardian Norwich. She cannot leave for the curse put upon her when she was a baby ruled that if she were ever to leave, the theatre would fall down. Then the person who put the curse on her exploded. (It did happen in a theatre after all.) Now Edith’s got a play of her own in mind that she wants her theatrical staff-family to put on: never having left the theatre, Edith’s done a monumental amount of reading, has learned all there is to know about Norwich (she probably knows more than residents who may traverse it freely) and has learned that a large number of children have gone missing over the years and the culprit is a nasty old woman called Mawther Meg. As her father’s doppelganger understudy confuses her, Mr Measly keeps trying to get her to hug him, her father’s four dead wives’ clothes remain in his rooms, Aunt Bleachy calls her bucket and talks lovingly about her Mop, and father’s new fiancé tries to lure Edith out down the steps of the main entrance (she’s the heiress to the Beetle Spread factory, made of exactly that ingredient) Edith attempts to outwit them all, stay away, and write the truth about what happened to the children.

Edward Carey’s Edith Holler is a bonkers and often confusing book about a young girl’s struggle to be noticed in a way that is full of respect and care, to be listened to. It’s a phenomenal piece of literature and art (Carey’s drawings are included) and is a delight to read. To quote the oft-mentioned-by-Edith Hamlet, ‘To be or not to be’ is precisely the question. Who, what, and, sometimes, where, is Edith? You’ll change your mind very often while reading this book.

On the one hand you have, as stated, an unreliable narrator – it can get incredibly frustrating being in Edith’s head, you’re stuck to her narrative like she’s stuck to her theatre – and on the other hand you have something incredibly true. Confusing? Yes, it is. The thing with Edith Holler – referring to the entire book here rather than the character, though the book and character may be one and the same, who knows? – is that it is wholly theatrical. Edith’s narrative is like a monologue – it is a monologue, just one by a child so, unlike your usual monologue plays, it goes on a bit due to lack of maturity and lack of editing. She does ramble so. (Potentially necessary note: the book as a product of Edward Carey, author, is edited.)

Having written the bracketed sentence it makes sense to now mention the ‘reason’ for this book. This reviewer’s jury is undecided. Possibilities range from mental illness (and across the road is a mental hospital), to child abuse, to a play within a play or play in a book entirely, to puppetry and animation. Where you are indeed with Edith throughout, I think it’s fair to say you may never reach a complete conclusion, but isn’t that just the way with pieces of theatre (and literature) sometimes?

Carey’s theatrical concepts – we should maybe say ‘Edith’s concepts’ because if Edith were told she was a creation of an author originally from Norwich she’ll either self-destruct in fear or depression (that might be appropriate) or, likely as she is with Karl Baedeker the famous guidebook author, become rather obsessed – are both purely his own and taken from various plays. There’s blood and death everywhere, very often, a bit like Shakespeare; there’s children’s toys and dolls and we might be in a doll’s house, like a meta reference to Ibsen. Dolls house – add that to the list of possible ‘reasons’.

On toys, we need mention Carey’s drawings. Carey has included drawings in all of his works and they are always intriguing but I think it’s apt to say they’ve taken on a particularly important role here – pun definitely intended. (Add a child playing with her toys to the list of possibilities.) The drawings present a very strong case for a particular meaning and reason for the whole book, for Edith and everyone else. So too does the fact that, if you visit Carey’s website, you’ll find a printable card theatre with a range of characters included.

I’ll include a single other character of note, though there are more – Edith’s father’s fiancé, whose introduction in the book ushers in a new era and many new questions for the reader. Or are we, perhaps, members of the audience as well?

I’m starting to sound like Edith, I fear, so here’s a related yet different topic: Carey’s necessarily limited portrayal of Norwich is appealing. It is in fact due to the limitations Edith’s life sets on the text that perhaps makes it stand out all the more – there’s a lot of very specific street-to-street facts here, a bit like the guidebook Edith loves (oh this is all getting too meta!) that allow you to know a nice amount of information about this city in its Edwardian form. Norwich too is part and parcel of this text – there are again many inspirations, and literary metaphors abound.

Edith Holler, then – again the book, not the girl, though the girl is probably stomping her feet at me for the twice-now dismissal of her person – is quite the literary feat. The literary (genre) elements, the intertextuality, the use of and grounding in its location, and of course the overriding theatricality and artistic nature of it are superb. Best read alongside reader-led research into the various parts (especially if you do not know Norwich – the nearest this reviewer has been is Lowestoft and that as a child) unless you are well informed already. It’s a great experience.

I was sent this book in order to interview the author.

Publisher: Gallic Books (Belgravia)
Pages: 390
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-913-54778-3
First Published: 31st October 2023
Date Reviewed: 30th August 2024

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

Extreme choices.

Izabela meets Bill when he’s brought to her farm by the Nazis as part of a work team; the Nazis occupy Czechoslovakia but want to keep the industry going and when Izzy’s mother says that yes, they could do with some help on the farm (Izzy’s father and older brother have gone to fight in the resistance) the Nazis bring a couple of British prisoners of war. Izzy falls for Bill fairly quickly as he does her; her English isn’t good (and, to be fair, his Czech is non-existent) but it happens. And then the looks and touches and secret conversations turn into a longing to be together. Izzy makes a tremendous decision; she’ll join Bill and do a runner. The pair do so with Izzy dressed as a boy, hair shorn. It’s against everything in the wartime ‘rules’. Discovery would mean death.

The Prisoner’s Wife is an exhilarating tale of mental strength and deception. Based on a true story and told via a couple of different narratives – Izzy’s and Bill’s, which I’ll expand on in a moment – it provides an at times awful but nevertheless compelling and immersive story that leaves you with a couple of threads untied for a dramatic and meaningful finish.

Starting with the writing, Brookes’ prose is wondrous, fully of imagery and detailing that makes everything easy to picture. Too easy to picture, you might lament, when the horrors arrive, as you know they will. There are many chapters confined to very small places, yet these come alive as much as those of wider scope, owing to Brookes’ skill when it comes to description and, arguably, storytelling in general.

That then supports the earlier notion of immersion; an expansion must be made on narrative. Brookes does something very literary with her narratives. You have the regular choice – as there have been many books that do such by this time – of two narratives split by point of view as to cover both main characters, and a further choice to write one in first person and one in third. So far, so normal. But with Brookes’ story and her inclusion of language as a continual plot thread, the narrative takes on an additional purpose. Izzy’s command of English is slight, and in disguise she must remain mute so that her voice does not betray her. So then Brookes’ first person narrative shows the progression of Izzy’s English comprehension as well as provides the reader a way to know about her when she cannot speak. The latter is perhaps pretty obvious, but the former is particularly interesting for the way and times Brookes chooses to focus on it – at the start Izzy thinks a lot about English but by the end her progression is far more in the subtext. And then you have Bill’s third person narrative – it’s not so focused (he gets dialogue after all) and creates an interesting distance between him and yourself, the reader, where you end up caring far more for Izzy, the person who stands to lose so much more. You may even get irritated with Bill on occasion – he is far from the perfect person in Brookes’ narrative, away from any commentary on his situation as a prisoner of war, and is in fact often eclipsed by the other main (somewhere between main and secondary) characters.

These other characters, then, they must be noted. Staying away from where they are located and who they are exactly as to avoid spoilers, you have Ralph, who becomes very important to Izzy, Max, who is a more quiet, bookish, sort (it’s not major but there’s a book-about-books thread going on here), and Scotty, whose character development you are sure to enjoy. Indeed Brookes develops all three characters, and some others, very well so that the various themes and, certainly, the history we’re looking at here, is relaid all the better. Brookes’ employs every aspect of storytelling in her explanation of the various scenes, showing how everything contributes towards the greater whole in a particularly notable and poignant way.

Necessarily, given the circumstances, the romance is mostly confined to thoughts and certainly the thrill is in the deception. Where romantic thoughts come in they are Izzy’s, understandably. This all said, it’s in Izzy’s thoughts of romance that a fair amount of her character development can be found – she beings very much a young woman, taken up completely by thoughts of Bill and forgetting the world (which is of course really dangerous) and ends up mature beyond her years. Part of this development, which in some ways coexists with the use of language, is in Izzy’s adoption of the persona of the fictional boy she becomes. She starts to think in terms of Algernon Cousins, her secondary identity, which becomes interesting in itself.

Better get to history – I’ve spoken about near everything else at this point! Brookes ups the anti and fools you sometimes into thinking it’s alright (well, alright as alright can be in the situation). You do become somewhat immune to everything after a few chapters – oh, they’re on the run but they’re finding places to sleep… oh a POW camp is scary but there’s an established routine – but the answer to ‘how much worse can it get?’ is, probably (I won’t assume how much you know about the war) ‘worse’, every time. There are some unapologetically realistic authors of wartime fiction – people such as Kristin Harmel with her baby murders, Jennifer Robson with the gas chambers, and Vincent Lamb with things I’m still trying to forget to this day; Brookes is on the same level. This is the war, and you can have a romance and some happier times, but it is still a war.

Two last things of note. Firstly the question of class that is looked at in the novel – it takes a backseat because it’s not as important as… well, the subjects included in the previous paragraph, but Brookes does include a small study of classism in the army through one of her characters and the effects it has on a general level. This happens in a POW camp and in the POW camp we also see – second thing of note – some of the lesser-known tasks given to dissenting prisoners. Brookes spends a good few pages on the subject – it’s yucky. It’s also something this reviewer’s never read about before and she’s read a fair number of wartime novels.

In sum, then, The Prisoner’s Wife is an expertly written, page-turning, novel that will do well on the shelves of any reader of WW2 fiction and historical fiction in general. It has the characters, it has the facts, and it has its romance when the time is right.

Publisher: Century (Penguin)
Pages: 396
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-529-12428-6
First Published: 16th April 2020
Date Reviewed: 29th August 2024

The rom-com of the summer.

Maya rushes to the Tube train; she’s late for work again. As she puts her makeup on she notices the incredibly hot guy sat across from her is looking at her; they begin conversing. Noah only recognises they’ve reached his station when they arrive and he rushes off the train, gesturing to Maya to call him. But he didn’t give her his number – they didn’t exchange any details. Then Maya finds the notebook he’s left behind; when, later, her co-workers push her to open it, she finds it’s full of a ‘thirty things to do before turning 30′ list. With her friends’ influence, she decides to go through the list herself one thing at a time, adapting the goals as needed (Maya’s never going to be a physiotherapist and she’s not sure about jumping out of a plane), in the hope that she’ll run into Noah at some point, give him back his notebook, and maybe forge a lasting connection. But in starting the list she meets an irritating guy at an art class, and then when her parents find out she wants to pursue her Masters, they request she starts looking for a husband at the same time. Maya’s life has been monotonous for years; she’s going to change that right now.

The Thirty Before Thirty List is Tasneem Abdur-Rashid’s second rom-com following 2022’s Finding Mr Perfectly Fine. If you had been hoping that book 2 (well, book 3 if you count her pseudonym) would be just as good as the first you’re in luck – it’s not just as good, it’s even better.

Leaving that there before I end up in full Marks And Spencers puns territory, The Thirty Before Thirty List has everything: solid plot, solid character development, a highly satisfying case of author answering the reader’s questions when they have them, and good pacing.

Told in the first person, you get a great sense for who Maya is but Abdur-Rashid never shies away from letting the reader figure things out before Maya does when it makes sense. There is in fact only one place where it takes Maya too long and that is arguably to show how in her own head Maya is; flawed characters, highly realistic and relatable characters, are Abdur-Rashid’s bread and butter.

There are many characters in this book that in other books might be too large a number, but here each character is developed enough within the scope of their literary placement (main, secondary, and so on) that it never becomes difficult to keep up and you never forget any of them either. Shout outs should be given to Maya’s mother, Maya’s brother Malik, cousins Pinky and Pretty, and co-worker Lucy, whose role as ever-closer-friend as the journey continues is rather lovely. There’s another interesting thread of friendship throughout as Maya gets to grips with best friend Dina’s continued (but not large) distance as the latter takes more time for her growing family and Maya works with these changes, learning to turn to others when Dina isn’t available and taking the moments Dina is available as special. (Anyone who’s at or been through that age when your friends or yourself are going through the changes brought about by having children will appreciate the author’s approach.)

All these words and not one about the romantic aspect… like Finding Mr Perfectly Fine, there are a few contenders here. There’s obviously Noah, the guy from the train; there’s Zakariya from art class (because you know he’ll be there somewhere); and then there’s the man Maya’s parents set her up to meet in a dekha dekhi arrangement. There are also a couple of other men involved in romances. Please note, artistic license may have been used here to prevent spoilers.

You find yourself working out what you think will happen, Abdur-Rashid says, ‘not so fast’, and this repeats throughout. It’s exhilarating – when you put the romance thread together with the use of communication in the book, Abdur-Rashid’s priorising of reader questions, laugh-out-loud humour, and nods to popular culture (Bridgerton gets two nods, thank me for that info later) you get a book that you want to finish as quick as you can because you want to find out what happens. You also find yourself in a situation where you mourn the loss of your ability to read in a more measured fashion because you know books aren’t written over night and you’ve a long wait ahead of you for the next book because it hasn’t been written yet. (Unless you haven’t read the author’s first book in which case I’m very envious. You’re in for another treat.)

All that to say – okay, really I might just have got carried away with how well this book is written – the romance is top-notch, brilliantly done. You’re unlikely to disagree with who (if she does pick one) Maya chooses because the author again never shies away from details. There are no really bad guys here but there are definitely ones more suited than others.

So to the promised inclusion of what happens to Zara (the main character from the author’s previous book)¹ – you get a good number of pages to not just find out where Zara ‘went’ after her book was over but to enjoy a bit of the ride along with her. And perhaps the best bit – you’re not left hankering for more after she makes her exit. It’s a very decent closure.

Last thing – you’re going to get hungry reading this. Food is a big part of the novel. It’s there for the regular mealtimes, it’s there for gatherings, and it’s there when people need another person to lean on and talk to. It’s there for meetings and karaoke and post-shopping refuelling and potential in-laws all meeting for the first time.

The Thirty Before Thirty List is excellent. It’s fun, it’s well-written, and, as a bonus, it leaves just enough questions at your feet for you to spend a good time afterwards thinking about whether you agree with one or two characters’ actions. This is always a great thing to close a book on, and also a review – I’m still questioning one character’s resolution and I like the fact that I am very much.

I was invited to and attended the launch of this book.

Publisher: Zaffre Books (Bonnier)
Pages: 380
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-838-77818-7
First Published: 18th July 2024
Date Reviewed: 15th August 2024

Footnotes

¹ See my interview with Tasneem, episode 85 of the podcast.