Tag: review

Review – The Sixpenny Orphan

“The future was full of possibilities, making her mind race and her heart soar.” 

We all know that Glenda Young has asserted herself as one of the main faces in the saga genre. When I pick up one of her books I don’t even need to read the blurb as I know I’ll be hooked from the start; frantically flipping the pages with baited breath, desperately needing to know what happens next. Of course, ‘The Sixpenny Orphan’ was no exception.  

One of the reasons I love Glenda’s saga novels is her consistent ability to write amazing heroines who overcome huge adversity, have incredible strength and both inspire and humble the reader; although this time, she truly outdid herself by giving us not one, but two! My initial prediction when I realised this story was one of two sisters, was that there would be a typical ‘good’ and ‘bad’ one, the latter of which I would love to hate. However, as Glenda does so often, she took what could have been a typical saga plot and broke away from that mould, putting her own unique spin on these characters. Although we quickly learn that Poppy is the slightly more outspoken of the two, I was surprised and pleased as the story progressed and the complexity of both characters began to unfold as the chapters (and years) went by, with both Poppy and Rose having strengths and flaws which were unique to each of their multi-faceted personalities.  

I wouldn’t say I had a favourite between Poppy and Rose, since both had their own, equally rich and intriguing personal histories, but one aspect of the overall story which really stood out to me was Poppy’s struggle to balance meeting the needs of her children, husband and sister; to say nothing of her job and responsibility of running the house. Some feelings simply transcend eras, and the overwhelm which comes from meeting the emotional needs of everyone around you whilst carrying the mental load for the household as a collective, is a feeling shared by mothers, or ‘default parents’ everywhere. A great deal of Poppy and Rose’s struggles were, although very emotional, quite unrelatable for a typical 2023 reader, most of whom simply cannot comprehend that level of poverty and inequality, but the emotionally drained mother trying her best to do it all is a feeling which struck a cord with me, and probably many others, instantly.  

Glenda has an amazing ability to write inspiring heroines who we are all rooting for, but what ‘The Sixpenny Orphan’ really highlighted for me is Glenda’s aptitude for writing truly incredible leading men. I have touched on this before, but the character of Sid really emphasized this for me. The world of fiction is absolutely littered with dreamy, idealistic men, but being able to create one which has appeal within the context of a mining village in 1919 is no easy task. In a time and social context where women and men had very clear roles, defined both legally and culturally; decades away from women having the most basic of rights such as their own bank account (which is ridiculous when we consider the fact that most, if not all, of our Ryhope heroines work in some capacity, but the patriarchy never did make sense to me), it must have been incredibly hard to write a man who is appealing to a 2023 audience and yet still believable in the context of the plot. Of course Glenda nailed this though, and our lovely Sid embodies all the qualities we want in a modern man; he’s supportive of Poppy’s dreams, values her family and is a relatively hands-on dad (a term I despise), but is still very much of his time in that we still wouldn’t trust him to make a batch of soup or to tackle the mammoth task of laundry day. But, when it really matters, he is wholeheartedly there for Poppy and her sister. Not that she needs him of course, because like the rest of Glenda’s heroines, she is more than strong enough to face the world on her own, even more so with her sister.  

“I daresay you can cope with anything life chucks at you.”

Similarly, I really enjoyed the glimpses we had into Ambrose and Ella’s relationship. Although secondary characters, it was moving to see how Ambrose truly sees Ella as his equal and values their business as a joint venture; another modern man like our Sid. I like to think that seeing this relationship at an early age (even when she was being told off) is what taught Poppy that she shouldn’t settle when it comes to her own choice of husband. A lesson which, thankfully, Rose eventually seems to learn too. Some of our Ryhope heroines weren’t quite able to get the measure of the right man, but Poppy especially seems to know what she wants and isn’t prepared to settle. It’s not often I celebrate the male characters over the females, but the world could definitely use more Sids and Ambroses!  

Another thing which I particularly enjoyed about ‘The Sixpenny Orphan’ was Lil Mahone’s redemption arc. For those of us who have followed Glenda’s Ryhope sagas up to now, Lil has become the one we all love to hate; her gossip might help to move a plot along nicely from time to time, but I would really hate to know her. Although, having said that, I think every street has a Lil Mahone in some form; and she would absolutely be the diligent, Karen-esque admin of her local village Facebook group if she were around today.  

All in all, even though I’ve had many, many visits to Glenda’s world of 1919 Ryhope, she continues to churn out fresh characters and plots which make the stories of this familiar village feel like we’re visiting for the first time. The only thing I was left wanting more of from ‘The Sixpenny Orphan’, is Rose’s story. I would be so interested to read this same novel written from Rose’s perspective, to really get into how things felt from where she stood.  

Blog Tour – A Mother’s Christmas Wish

“It was true she had fire in her belly, a lust for adventure and a craving for excitement that she knew she’d never find living in a small village.”

I’ve read all of Glenda Young’s books so far, and I maintain that it’s impossible to pick a favourite, but if I had to; then this one would certainly be a strong contender. Cakes, Christmas and a whole lot of smashing the patriarchy – what more could you possibly want in a saga? Although it would be hard to choose a favourite book of Glenda’s so far, Emma is without a doubt my favourite character she’s written. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of our hardy Ryhope lasses who conquer their fears and overcome huge obstacles to find their inner fire, but what particularly charmed me about Emma is how she arrives in Ryhope with her fire already blazing; perhaps a little too brightly! At first, as much as she made me chuckle, I didn’t really feel sorry for her in the way I usually do for the heroines Glenda writes. Even though it gets her into some sticky situations, I love how Emma seems to just let whatever ideas or observations pop into her head fly out of her mouth or transpire into action with absolutely no regard for the consequences. I suppose the polite way of saying it is that she has no filter, and I can’t imagine why I would relate to someone with that particular ailment (although I’m sure my husband would have a theory).

So, after bursting into Ryhope with a somewhat colourful entrance, Emma has the reverse journey of the heroines who have come before her; gradually learns to see things from other people’s perspectives and, thankfully, fine tunes her ability to judge other people’s characters, realising that there is often more to people than what is apparent on the surface. Similarly, I quite enjoyed seeing Emma’s leading man’s journey from a brooding, rude and somewhat of a Marmite character to a dependable, thoroughly wholesome and definitely fanciable type. He’s also somewhat of a modern man, almost feminist in his support for Emma and her leading ladies which I really loved. Of course I won’t name names for anyone who hasn’t read it yet, but it was an interesting twist between Emma’s character development around becoming more balanced and less led by her emotions, and him learning to push through his instinct to be cautious and fear of feeling anything too deeply. By the end, they were balancing each other out perfectly.

“Being with him made her feel free in the same way as she felt roaming the hills above Loughshinny.”

I’ve made no secret of my desire to have a spin-off novel where all of Glenda’s feisty heroines unite and take on the world together. So, I was absolutely thrilled to see all of them getting together in the final chapters for Women’s Christmas (a tradition which I will certainly try and implement in my family; as the one who usually gets lumbered with cooking the dinner it seems only fair!). Emma’s story is also set a few years later than our other heroines’, so it was very nice to see that they are all still settled and thriving in Ryhope by 1923. As if we would expect anything less from these fearless females, though?

“Ryhope becomes a part of your very being. It embraces every part of you.”

As always, my only criticism of Glenda’s saga novels is that I want more. I’m a glutton for the triumphs and tribulations of her feisty Ryhope heroines and my need to know what they get up to next will never be satiated. But, ‘A Mother’s Christmas Wish’ has left me feeling more than sufficiently festive, itching to hear my boots crunching in the snow and peckish for some apple cake (even though I’ve never actually had it) – so any recipes would be greatly received!

Glenda Young credits her local library in the village of Ryhope, where she grew up, for giving her a love of books. She still lives close by in Sunderland and often gets her ideas for her stories on long bike rides along the coast. A life-long fan of Coronation Street, she runs two hugely popular fan websites.

For updates on what Glenda is working on, visit her website glendayoungbooks.com and to find out more find her on Facebook/GlendaYoungAuthor and Twitter @flaming_nora.

UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mothers-Christmas-Wish-heartwarming-sacrifice-ebook/dp/B09GFHCKBP

US – https://www.amazon.com/Mothers-Christmas-Wish-heartwarming-sacrifice-ebook/dp/B09GFHCKBP

Review – The Cottingley Secret

“Possibility is where all the best stories begin.”

Hazel Gaynor could write flatpack furniture instructions and they would still be utterly enchanting; I honestly cannot find the words to do justice to her ability to make stories come alive. As has been the case with her other novels I’ve read thus far, I didn’t read ‘The Cottingley Secret’, I lived it. Or at least, it certainly felt as though I did. This was absolutely not a novel I could dip in and out of between appointments or on lunch breaks; as soon as I opened the pages I was totally consumed by the characters and their unique journeys. Put simply, if I’d read this while running a bath, my house definitely would have flooded.

My knowledge of the Cottingley fairies was pretty limited before reading this re-telling; like most people, I’d seen the photos at some point but never really known the story behind them. I vaguely remember seeing the film adaptation in the 90’s, but even that memory is quite hazy now (especially as I am reluctantly beginning to accept that the 90’s were 30 years ago and not 10 as I often still think they were). If anything, however, that possibly made this story even more enthralling for me. I first discovered Hazel Gaynor’s novels through ‘The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter’, which reimagines the story of a really significant part of North East history and was therefore close to my heart, and also thoroughly enjoyed ‘The Girl who Came Home’ set around the Titanic, an event which we all have some knowledge of, but having limited knowledge of the ‘real’ events made me feel so much more connected to the characters. For once, I had no desire to google every detail and compare this retelling to the story of the ‘real’ fairies because I knew Hazel’s version is the one I want to believe is true.

Having said that, for the few aspects of the story I did google in vain attempts to pacify my own curiosity, even though I knew some parts were products of Hazel’s imagination and arose from the need to advance plots or fill in gaps in the real story, she intertwines fact and fiction so well that it becomes extremely difficult to separate the two. The story of the Cottingley fairies is already a pretty solid base for an exciting and spellbinding story, but Hazel’s imagination is like adding petrol to the low embers of a bonfire and giving the reader an absolute inferno of intrigue and excitement.

It must be difficult enough to tell one story, with the complexities of character depths and managing plot progression, but again Hazel Gaynor has taken that challenge and raised it with another story interweaved through the original so neatly that they’re knitted together like stripes in a jumper. The story of the present-day Olivia embarking on a new adventure despite her heart-breaking personal losses, whilst running the bookshop of all of our dreams, had enough emotion and intrigue to be a standalone contemporary fiction novel, but using this as the lens through which we discover Frances and Elsie’s secrets means we’re gifted with two incredible stories for the price (or three-week library loan in my case) of one. Personally, I found both stories equally gripping as well, something I find quite rare in these novels which flit between past and present; usually I develop a clear preference for one story after a few chapters and find the parallel story an irritating inconvenience but that couldn’t be further from how I felt whilst reading ‘The Cottingley Fairies’.

My ever-sceptical husband did ask me, whilst I was about half way through ‘The Cottingley Secret’ why I was reading a fantasy book when this isn’t usually my genre of choice, and why I was so invested when, quote, ‘they’re obviously not real’ but, in a way, are any books real? Every time we crack the spine of a novel we’re entering someone’s world of fantasy and make-believe. And, the key question with the Cottingley fairies is not whether the photographs were real or faked, but whether you choose to believe.

“There’s magic in every bookshop, Olivia. You just have to bring people to it. The books will take care of the rest.”

Farewell, Shipyard Girls!

We all have certain stories, certain characters or worlds which stay with us long after we’ve turned the final page. ‘The Shipyard Girls’ may appear to the objective observer as a typical saga series (a very well-written and addictive one at that), but for me this series marked the start of my first ‘proper’ writing experience; the first time someone other than my immediate family or friends (i.e. someone not morally obliged to) told me that I wasn’t terrible at it. I was a little bit late to the SYG party, but a couple of months after binge reading the first three books on holiday, I found myself between jobs and a bit unsure of the next steps. With a decent stretch of spare time on my hands for the first time in years, I decided to start writing. On the advice of a friend who had had some success, I began by writing about things I enjoyed and so, this saga series which I couldn’t put down seemed a logical place to start. When I received an email from Nancy herself to say she really enjoyed one of my reviews and asked if I’d like to be part of the next blog tour, I couldn’t believe it – a proper, successful author liked something I’d scribbled together on my ancient laptop one rainy afternoon.

I had no idea where my writing journey was going to go, and as evidenced by my completely sporadic and random postings on this blog, I still don’t. But the main constant since I started this page has been regularly scheduled hype about the latest SYG instalments and gentle background encouragement from Nancy. Since joining the club of SYG bloggers and having the privilege of getting to know Nancy, I’ve had three more career changes (I never was able to focus on one thing for too long) and become a parent; none of which has even slightly resembled the life plan I had in mind at the time I started blogging. Which, is what made it especially poignant to be alongside the girls as they all ended this chapter of their journey in preparation for embarking upon their next unique and exciting steps.

“Life, she had learnt, was lacking in certainty, and sometimes it ended up sending you down a different route to the one you had intended or wanted to take. Sometimes…those unexpected turns in life led to something rather special.”

I’ll admit I was nervous to start ‘Three Cheers for The Shipyard Girls’, partly because, as with all of the readers who have loved this series, I didn’t want it to end but also because I was really apprehensive of a potentially rubbish ending spoiling the rest of the series. It’s strange to think that we (as readers) have these particular series and characters that we really love, which are a result of a particular author’s imagination, and yet we seem to have no faith whatsoever in their ability to take the stories where they need to go. I genuinely felt under pressure as I started to read Three Cheers, and was quite fraught about whether Nancy was going to do our girls justice; so I can only imagine the anxiety which the prospect of ending such a well loved series caused her! Of course, as always, she absolutely nailed it.

My prediction for ‘Three Cheers’ had been a final epilogue with a flash forward to the girls with their granddaughters at the 2020 VE day anniversary celebrations (obviously in a perfect universe where coronavirus didn’t exist), mainly so that I would get to find out where life took all of them but actually, the ending Nancy gave us far surpassed this. Really, the ending of ‘Three Cheers’ felt like a beginning, with all of the girls parting ways to embark on the next stage of their lives and all being exactly where they should be; their collective journey having been completed and now fragmenting into individual, enthtalling stories just waiting to be written. The imagination of the reader as to where our girls might end up after they’ve taken these next steps takes their journeys so much further than any author (even Nancy) could. Even as an avid SYG reader myself, I can’t specifically whittle down where I want each of the girls to go in life; so the possibilities being conjured up by the individual readers’ minds are boundless. Just imagine the fan fiction spin-offs we could end up with!

As sad as it is to know that I won’t have any more exciting anticipation of new SYG books, I will certainly be re-reading the previous ones from time to time to catch up with my old friends and reminisce of our adventures; and I don’t mind admitting I’m glad to have finally shed the anxiety of Helen and Dr Parker’s infuriatingly inconsistent ‘will they, won’t they?’ drama. And, it’s comforting to know that we’ve left each of our girls at the exact right place for them to embark on the next passage in their lives (including Miriam – if you know, you know) but, if the day ever does come for an on-screen dramatization then Nancy, you know where to find me. As a Mackem lass who grew up within spitting distance of Tatham Street, I can think of nobody more befitting of a cameo…

Blog Tour – The Miner’s Lass

“Polly’s words about her never accounting to anything made her blood boil. She didn’t know how, not yet, but she vowed to herself that one day she would prove the woman wrong.”

Having my annual trip to Glenda Young’s dramatic yet enchanting world of Ryhope Village in 1919, I wondered what most saga fans do when they come across another story from the same context…how much further can she really go with this? What can she give us that we haven’t already seen? Well, once again, my ponderings became immediately redundant.

As with its predecessors, of course there were many aspects of ‘The Miner’s Lass’ which continue to set Glenda Young’s stories apart from others of this genre, but the element which really jumped out for me, more so than anything else, was the sensitive, poignant and yet contextually appropriate depiction of mental health issues. Coal mining is such a fundamental part of the North East heritage that it is often romanticised in novels of this kind, but Glenda wasn’t afraid to shy away from this by depicting the harsh reality which accompanied this profession for probably the majority of those who experienced it. The account of Michael’s first day down the pit, and the subsequent impact which it continued to have on him, was so moving that I wanted to jump right into the pages to give him a huge hug and tell him that everything would be alright. Similarly, Mary’s experience of depression was framed through the context of 1919 Ryhope, wherein the collective understanding of such issues was of course very narrow and the prospect of appropriate treatment for a working class woman was essentially non-existent, but it was written so sensitively that it could easily have been lifted from a contemporary story, or even real life in 2021. Balancing the ignorance and misconceptions of this time period with a need to portray these issues in an empathetic way cannot have been an easy task, but Glenda Young managed it seamlessly with her unique and heartfelt ability to make a reader really ‘feel’ the characters’ journeys.

“Maybe a little bit of madness runs in us all. The trick is not to let it overwhelm us.”

Of course, it wouldn’t be a Glenda Young saga novel without our headstrong heroine having hurdles metaphorically thrown at her every few chapters, but, (without spoiling any twists for anyone who hasn’t read this book yet), I was really struck by the potential conflict and betrayal between Ruby and one of her closest friends. The feminist overtones of Glenda’s previous saga novels (and indeed this one) have always been so fierce that it was an intriguing change to come across conflict between some of our hardy, independent Ryhope lasses. Again, one of the things I love so much about Glenda Young’s sagas is that, although the attention to historical detail is so meticulous that you can almost smell the coal dust emanating from the pages, the plot elements are always so universally human that the reader feels as though the characters are people from our own lives.

“Whatever happens, we’ll get through it. We’re Dinsdale women, we’re strong.”

It was also an interesting change of pace to have a romantic lead who, quite frankly, made my skin crawl; and also that of the majority of the other characters except our protagonist. Again, I never like to spoil plot twists for anyone who hasn’t read the book yet, but fear not, our latest heroine isn’t fooled for long – Glenda’s team of fearless females never are ones to be fooled twice, they’re far too intuitive and headstrong for that. Although that scene with the bath tub will live rent-free in my mind for a while; I heard inklings about that particular moment a while ago from Glenda’s twitter and all I will say is that it did not disappoint! Fear not, confused reader, you will know when you get to it!

So, we’re six stories deep into Glenda Young’s Ryhope saga novels, but rest assured, things are far from getting boring. In fact, it seems as though every time she graces us with another exciting installment, I find myself feeling less satisfied and only hungrier for more drama and heartache; so once again I cannot wait to see what she comes up with next. And I’m still waiting for her to announce a spin-off wherein all of her strong Ryhope heroines unite like ‘The Avengers’ in some epic finale to this enthralling collection of novels.

Recent Reading Roundup

Having taken a somewhat unplanned maternity leave from blogging, the pressure around what my first post in about 6 months should be about has felt pretty intense. As with many other difficult periods in life, reading is the only thing which has kept me somewhat sane over the past few months, and mastering the art of holding a paperback in one hand with my napping baby balanced on the opposite arm was a total game-changer. So, having binge-read my way through at least half of my local library’s stock, I started to get a backlog of books I wanted to rave about; but every time I started to get into something approaching a normal routine, my baby would hit another milestone and send everything haywire. If you know, you KNOW. To ease myself and my sleep-deprived brain back into blogging, the easiest thing seemed to be to bullet point the highlights of my recent reads, although being concise is not one of my strongest qualities, as anyone who follows this blog will know; so I will try my best to keep it snappy.

– Letters On Motherhood – Giovanna Fletcher. I love everything Giovanna Fletcher does, from her You Tube to her podcast, fiction and non-fiction I devour it all, and two weeks after becoming a mother myself, this seemed like the perfect read. But, if you want my brutally honest opinion? It was lovely to read in the newborn bubble; full of heartfelt and emotive reflections on past moments of motherhood and those yet to come, I was cradling my bundle of joy and planning all the sentimental letters I would write to him about this wonderful time together. However, just after I began this read, my partner went back to work and the reality of colic, reflux, eczema and sleep regression set in. In a nutshell – can be enjoyed by anyone not currently experiencing what my perinatal mental health worker calls “the fog” (sometimes also aptly referred to as “the storm” by other professionals). I’d recommend this whilst in the newborn bubble or once one’s child(ren) are pretty much self sufficient, but whilst riding the storm, to be honest, it’s as fluffy as an NCT course or a Fairy washing powder advert and overly romanticised the utter hell of those early days in the same way the concept of “the blitz spirit” must infuriate anyone who actually lived through that nightmare. Sorry Giovanna! (In her defence, I found “Happy Mum, Happy Baby” much more realistic and relatable).

– The Midnight Library and How to Stop Time – Matt Haig. My edgy, former teenage self is reeling that I chose a book based on its currently high level of commercial popularity, but sometimes there is a good reason as to why things are popular. I am not usually one for reading books with abstract or magical elements, they’re often a bit too wishy washy for me, but both of these concepts were too intriguing not to explore. I loved the honest and unfiltered depictions of mental health in ‘The Midnight Library’, and wondering what might have been is such a fundamentally human element of everyone’s psyche that we can all relate to Nora’s journey, but Matt Haig manages to balance out the darker themes with a wonderfully optimistic ending which I’m still reflecting on a couple of months later. I then read ‘How to Stop Time’ off the back of how much I enjoyed The Midnight Library and again was intrigued by the concept. I love a historical fiction novel, obviously, but seeing a character experience so many different contexts within one journey is such a unique way of framing this, and raised the age old question of nature v nurture – who would any of us be if we lived in different time periods and cultures? Are we universally ourselves or products of our environment? Again, it’s been two months and I still don’t know.

– The Munitions Girls series – Rosie Archer. Again, we know I love a historical saga, and this was one I hadn’t got round to reading yet, even though I have enjoyed a lot of her standalone novels. I was surprised to learn that this series was only in four parts, since the amount of different characters which Rosie Archer juggles throughout the plots is crazy, and yet is still able to provide enough rich detail to ensure the reader is fully invested in each character’s personal journey. The plot moved very fast, and it’s impressive how far she was able to take each character’s journey in just four installments, but it never felt rushed or skimmed over at any point, nor were any of the more rich or emotive aspects of the plots spared. That must have been a really difficult balance for the author to strike, but I’d absolutely recommend this series for any saga lover wanting a quick and exciting binge without sacrificing the depth of plot, emotive themes and character development.

– Christmas with the Bobby Girls – Johanna Bell. I have followed this series since it first came out, but I somehow got waylaid in pursuing it. When my local library received its first copy of this book, of course I was at the top of the waiting list (also the thrill of being the first person to check out a book was one I didn’t know I needed). I do love that this saga seems to shift focus between different primary characters in each installment, so although the overall passage of contextual time in the story isn’t particularly rapid, the reader’s interest is still gripped by the stark differences in the characters’ lives and journeys as they intertwine with one another. I definitely need to read the most recent installment of this saga, and will be doing so as soon as my baby allows me to have more than 1 hour of sleep in a twenty four hour period!

Review – ‘Above Us, the Stars’

Having grandparents or other twice-removed relations who served in the War is, for ignorant Millennials such as myself, so mundane and commonplace that it is pretty much never discussed. Reading ‘Above Us, the Stars’, recently prompted me to ask my husband what his grandparents did during the War. I’ve known this man for eleven years now, and I think this is quite possibly the only thing I don’t know about him or his family, because I’d simply never thought to ask about such a run-of-the-mill topic. Having had my historical interests tickled from reading AUTS, I waited for his response with an intrigued sense of anticipation, thinking I was about to hear some heroic anecdote which had been passed down through the generations of a family which I am now part of. However, the response which followed was somewhat of a disappointment, specifically: “f*ck knows, I know my granddad went to war though”, as we continued walking the dog and the conversation quickly moved on to what we fancied for tea. ‘Went to war’. That is the legacy of a man who most likely risked life and limb, to say nothing of his emotional and mental well-being, and entered literal mortal danger to protect his family, his country and future generations; for his whole story to be entirely forgotten within just two generations of his own offspring. Not even a glimmer of recognition as to whether he was in the Army, Navy, RAF or God knows what other role? I know it’s exceptionally difficult to talk about heroes of the Second World War without someone popping up and going ‘okay, boomer’, and much as it pains my pacifist, hippy, Millennial self to admit it, my God, we are a generation characterised by completely unapologetic ignorance.

But yes, back to the writing. As with her previous book ‘The Horsekeeper’s Daughter’ (which is also absolutely worth a read), ‘Above Us, the Stars’ takes the form of Jane Gulliford Lowes’ weird hybrid genre of non-fiction and fiction in that it reads like a fictional story but is littered with real-life accounts and factual information which helps to put the story in context and bring the characters to life. It feels a bit wrong to refer to the people in this story as ‘characters’, not least of which because (as an evening spent on Ancestry confirmed), Jack Clyde is my first cousin twice removed; thus nullifying my lifelong gripe that ‘no Clyde ever did anything remotely interesting’. As I was reading AUTS one night, my husband leaned across and uttered the question “why are you reading a book about the army? That’s not your usual tipple”, as I was squinting to focus intently on one of the more tech-y extracts which explained the types of aircraft Jack and his squadron were using and what everyone’s role was on board. I mean, I don’t even know where to start with how ridiculous that question was (disclaimer – I do love my husband, and the purpose of this post is not just to slag him off), but as I’ve said, Jane Gulliford Lowes has once again used her unique storytelling ability to breathe an exciting, fictional feel into one man’s real life story which could otherwise have easily been written off as quite ‘typical’ of his day and therefore uninteresting. Plus, even the photos on the cover make it pretty darn obvious that it’s about the RAF, not the Army, if we are going to start splitting hairs.

So, there I was, night after night, eagerly turning pages to learn more about where Jack and his family’s journey was going to go next. I will confess, I have no self control so after experiencing the anxiety of a couple of the more hairy chapters where I really wasn’t sure how his story was going to unfold, I did skip ahead to check who survives at the end. I would strongly advise against doing that, as it did take away a bit of the thrill of watching the ups and downs of this exciting journey emerge before me, however, it’s a testament to the wonderful writing of this story that I still cried at the end (and on multiple occasions throughout – I’ll never be able to hear ‘The Blaydon Races’ in the same way again). Having said that, I also wouldn’t tar AUTS with the same brush as other wartime sob-story books such as Atonement and the likes, where it’s all a bit over the top and there’s a grieving woman at home crying every night over her lost love, because the emotion of Jack’s story runs far deeper than the typical ‘he’s away from home, missing his family and sweetheart’ cliches, and the most poignant points were that Jack, and all of his mates and colleagues, were just normal young lads who were thrown into a huge responsibility which, ultimately, had them sh*t scared that they might leave in an aircraft one night and literally not come back. Sometimes, there isn’t a need to over-do a story with too many complex layers, and being able to take a fairly ‘typical’ experience shared by millions of others and render it into an emotive and epic story truly is the mark of an exceptional writer.

My own granddad (incidentally Jack Clyde’s first cousin), was born in the same year as Jack and served in the RAF at the same time, but never once spoke about it, that I can remember. I asked my parents about it once, as I think most children do when they study World War Two for the first time in primary school, and being told that he was taken off active duty to be given the grizzly job of going to the crash sites and stripping the uniforms off his dead friends so that they could be washed and re-worn by new recruits was quite grotesque enough for my seven year old self, to the point where it put me off ever asking again. But, I’m embarrassed to say that it wasn’t until I recently spent some time cramped inside a Halifax with Jack and his crew, that I really considered why that might have been the case. So, on a personal level I would just like to thank Jane Gulliford Lowes for breathing life into a story which could easily have been buried between generations like so many others have been, and I don’t think for one second that the only reason I was so moved by Jack’s story is because of the family connection I have; I really think that anyone who turns the pages of ‘Above Us, the Stars’ will have much the same emotional response, and will hopefully consider revisiting the same stories of their own families before they end up lost forever because, if this book is anything to go by, some stories are such that they just need to be told.

Image courtesy of Jane Gulliford Lowes, 2020

Lockdown Library Part One – The Bobby Girls

It’s all gone a bit horrible, really, hasn’t it? I vividly remember saying to a colleague before Christmas how I wished I could have just a few paid weeks off work to relax, joking that I would love maternity leave without the maternity element of it. With hindsight, the phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’ comes to mind. Being stuck in the house with nothing but time to kill is every writer’s (and reader’s) dream, but every time I’ve thought about putting pen to paper (or fingertips to laptop), I’ve never been too sure what to say. I don’t really know how I feel about it all; that seems to change on an hourly basis, and social media is littered with people being criticised for enjoying lockdown when other people are struggling, and others being criticised for being too negative and not appreciating what they have, so I’ve been too chicken to say anything at all on the subject. So, I cannot profess to be an expert on how best to deal with lockdown, because my strategy of binge watching ‘Call the Midwife’ and ‘Tiger King’ (eclectic taste, I know) and baking endless sugar filled goodies has led only to weight gain and insomnia. The only thing I feel I can offer, is to continue reviewing books which are currently helping me to pass the time, so, in the spirit of ‘keep calm and carry on’, I reasoned that I should continue doing what I do best – getting excited about books.

We all know that I love a good saga, so when the Kindle store recommended ‘The Bobby Girls’ to me, I had high hopes. Hopes which Johanna Bell’s excellent writing and endearing characters definitely exceeded. Having worked closely with various police forces within many of my ‘day jobs’, female police officers are something which I, like most people today, take completely for granted. However, despite having an interest in women’s history, I’m ashamed to admit that I had a fairly limited understanding of how female police officers came to exist. I did an entire module on the history of policing at university, and I don’t think female officers got one mention; clearly I was too busy stacking shelves on the weekends to fund weeknight pub crawls across the college bars to take the time to question that.

So, ‘The Bobby Girls’ follows three women from vastly different backgrounds who all sign up to be part of the ‘Women Police Volunteers’ (WPV) during the First World War. I had never actually heard of this volunteer scheme before, so it was certainly interesting to learn about from a historical point of view, but mostly just exciting to tag along with three fiercely empowered women as they protect London’s streets from dangerous criminals and help their fellow sisters wherever they can, all out of the goodness of their hearts, despite constant discrimination from men and the prospect of them having the right to vote seeming even further away than the complete end of lockdown restrictions.

“‘How has the WPV changed you?’ She asked her instead. Irene looked thoughtful. ‘I’ve realised that people from all walks of life can be friends,’ she said. ‘And that I can achieve anything I put my mind to.'”

Although this saga follows four main recruits of the WPV, this instalment focused mainly on the slightly naive, upper class Maggie (or Posh Spice, as I think could be an appropriate alter ego), and her story of discovering her own strength, as well as learning more than she bargained for about a world which her parents had kept her sheltered from. Although she has quite the personal journey in this one, I finished the book with a niggling feeling that her story is really only just beginning; and am definitely looking forward to seeing where her newfound strength and confidence takes her, as well as learning more about her empowered comrades and where their WPV experience will take them. Maggie, Annie and Irene’s binding friendship and fearlessness had me wanting to stand up and belt out ‘Sisters are Doin’ it For Themselves’, but for the sake of my poor neighbours, I didn’t. Plus, I couldn’t put the book down for long enough to actually do that, for fear of missing out on their next exciting escapade. Although, the second instalment is out in May, so it is always nice to leave something for next time.

“‘As I’ve always said, if you want a job doing properly then you should ask a woman to do it,’ she added, her eyes twinkling mischievously.”

Blog Tour – Pearl of Pit Lane

Glenda Young is an author who I have really come to like, and who has quickly become one of the main names in saga/historical fiction genres, but unfortunately she seems to have an irritating habit of releasing books at times when my life is too busy to give them the attention they really deserve. How inconsiderate of her. I did find time to review her first novel, which I loved, the second was devoured in the midst of my wedding plans and so was overlooked on my blog, and the third clashed with a frantic Christmas. However, her third novel was recently released in paperback, so it seemed like the right time to finally give it the hype it deserves; and, as we all know, I’m never one to shy away from an opportunity to get excited about great books within a blog tour!

Even though I’ve just listed them choronologically, Glenda’s novels can be read in any order, and would no doubt be enjoyed just as much in any combination. Personally, I would suggest a binge-read if you haven’t tried any of them; and if the news is anything to go by at the moment it seems like the safest place to be is at home with some great books, so why not get the Kindle stocked up?
‘Pearl of Pit Lane’ follows orphaned Pearl Edwards, who has a tough life with her aunt Annie, who has to walk the ‘pit lane’ to keep a roof over their heads, but as times get harder Pearl finds herself faced with few other options than to follow in Annie’s footsteps. However, her strong will and fearless independence helps Pearl to find her own way in a difficult world, even learning more than she had bargained to about herself along the way.

“Put me to work on the pit lane, would you? Is that all you think I’m worth?”

Like its two predecessors, ‘Pearl of Pit Lane’ takes place in 1919, a time period which I find is generally quite overlooked within historical fiction. It’s understandable that it would be, I suppose, since it can reasonably be assumed that it was probably a ‘lull’ after the massive events which dominated the previous four years (like that weird week between Christmas and New Year when nobody knows what the hell is going on), but that’s what makes these stories all the more interesting. We all know a lot about what happened between 1914 and 1918, but what happened after that? I was naive enough to think that things probably went back to ‘business as usual’, after this, but as this story in particular informs us, that was certainly not the case. Set in the North East village of Ryhope, which is just next to where I grew up, I initially thought that ‘Pearl of Pit Lane’ would have a degree of familiarity for me, but I was pleasantly surprised to discover Glenda’s words breathing fresh life in to a familiar place, to the extent that I felt as though I was being transported into a totally different world. So, her novels are absolutely not just for the attention of those of us who are lucky enough to be able to relate to some of the landmarks which still stand today.

Even though I grew up close to where the novel is set and studied history for a good few years, I had absolutely no idea about the history of ‘pit lanes’; so it was really intriguing to learn about a darker side of the past. That’s one of the many wonderful things about Glenda Young’s writing; all of her novels take a fairly dark element of the time period in which they are set, but her fierce female protagonists always manage to take those struggles and turn them into inspiring and heartwarming triumphs which have the reader holding back tears by the end. It’s a difficult balance to get; managing the tipping points between the more gritty and unpleasant aspects of history with the warming romance which comes with this genre, but she always seems to achieve it perfectly, and with the added bonus of totally inspirational characters.

“Her clothes might be worn and shabby, but she had a heart the size of Ryhope itself.”

Although this post is specifically focused on ‘Pearl of Pit Lane’, I thoroughly recommend reading all of Glenda Young’s novels; I definitely enjoyed all three in equal measure and am looking forward to the next, and, if you keep the characters from each one fresh in your mind; you might find a few bonus surprises in the other stories. The only thing which I feel Glenda has left her readers without is a spin-off novel in which all of her formidable female leads join together to overcome some huge adversity, because that would be absolutely epic; like ‘The Avengers’, only actually enjoyable and inspiring.

thumbnail_Pearl of Pit Lane blog tour card

My Year in Five Books

At the end of last year, I set myself the difficult task of choosing five highlights from the mass of books I had managed to consume within the previous twelve months; and, throughout December, I am very much a traditionalist so have decided to do the same again. I have not counted the individual books which I have read this year, though I can say with confidence that the total will absolutely be lower than last year’s impressive forty six. Hey, it’s been a very busy year at work and with getting married in August I barely had the energy to hold a book upright never mind read one most days; though having said that, a nicer way of putting it might be to say that I went for quality over quantity in my reading material this year, which is clearly evidenced by the excellent selection of top-tier books mentioned below.

The Five – Hallie Rubenhold

No, this list is not in any kind of ranking order, but ironically this one is called ‘The Five’. One of the few genres which is able to pique my enthusiasm as much as historical fiction is true crime, so when a colleague mentioned ‘The Five’ and how it covers the real life stories of each of the victims of Jack the Ripper in Victorian London, I was hooked from the synopsis alone. I’m not sure how much creative freedom Hallie Rubenhold was able to use within their stories; I would imagine a fair amount would be needed when trying to piece together accounts of the lives of relatively unknown women from records which were made over a century ago.

However, either way, it was clear throughout the book that the author had put a huge amount of effort into preserving what few historical records were available for these women, but was able to present them in a way that was as easy to read as any other fictional story, which is certainly no easy task. I was completely dumbstruck to learn that the majority of Ripper victims were not actually prostitutes, and most of them began life in an entirely different social context to that in which they died, and I am ashamed to admit that I had always believed the media hype that the Ripper was a killer of sex workers, which perpetuates the wider myth that this is all the victims’ lives were. From a feminist point of view, I felt a bit sheepish to have had that stereotype entirely disproven by walking in the victims’ shoes and experiencing the complex lives of these five interesting women from their own unique perspectives.

The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter – Hazel Gaynor

This one is probably a bit of a lazy or a cop-out point to include, since I did already give this book its own individual review earlier this year, however it is absolutely deserving of a second mention, and was quite possibly my favourite literary discovery of the past year. Having grown up spending the majority of my youth in Northumberland, I have always been well-versed in the legendary story of Grace Darling; but she is sadly a heroine who receives quite minimal attention outside of the geographical area within which she existed, and I’m certainly not aware of any other fictional novels about her life (though please do send me links via my home page if they do exist).

As with ‘The Five’, breathing new life into a story with which people may already be familiar through historical documentation is no easy feat, and very little is known about Ms Darling’s life since she was famously very private. However, Hazel Gaynor manages to humanise the legendary figure through the suggestion of a possible secret romance which, although history suggests is unlikely to have happened, is really thrilling to imagine and is communicated with such care and dignity so as not to undermine the factual accounts of her life that it was an absolute joy to read.

Courage of the Shipyard Girls – Nancy Revell

Again, it’s probably a cop-out answer to include things I’ve already reviewed this year, and an instalment of a saga which I have already reviewed to death on this blog (I will not apologise for this, and will continue to fill this page with more Shipyard Girls-related hype for as long as Nancy Revell continues to grace us with it); but when I really thought about this list, Courage of the Shipyard Girls is something which immediately jumps out to me as a book which I vividly remember enjoying this year, so it can stay.

Although I love the whole saga, this specific book continues to stand out to me as the highlight of the series, in terms of character development and the emotional impact of various climatic plot twists which genuinely left me in tears as the story concluded; and although I am always an advocate of any saga being read in the correct chronological order, Courage of the Shipyard Girls forms the exception to this rule, and I would say that if you are only able to read one book from this saga for some reason, then make it this one.

The Horsekeeper’s Daughter – Jane Gulliford Lowes 

Yet another cop-out answer, but really, if a book is so good that it makes my top five in an entire year, then it makes logical sense that I would have already enjoyed it enough to decide to give it its own post, yes? Quite similarly to ‘The Five’, this is an odd mix of fact and fiction, which follows the very real Sarah Marshall on her journey as a migrant to Australia in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. Although it isn’t written through the voice of the main ‘character’, the author manages to achieve a delicate balance of allowing the protagonist’s voice to be heard through the personal touches she adds to existing concrete facts; so it reads very much like any other historical fiction book despite being very much a factual account of real events. I must admit that when this was first recommended to me, I was sceptical and thought ‘surely that can’t really work, it’s either fictional or it isn’t’. However, Jane Gulliford-Lowes’ writing talent expands far beyond my scepticism, and within ‘The Horsekeeper’s Daughter’ she creatively masquerades a sequence of hisorical facts as a really enjoyable piece of prose – it’s like the literary equivalent of a Sunday afternoon blockbuster on TV, it just ticks every box for a relaxing yet intriguing read.

Our House – Louise Candlish

‘Finally!’ I hear you exclaim, something which I haven’t already bored you with by rambling on about it earlier in the year. I genuinely have no idea why I didn’t allow ‘Our House’ its own review; and I will confess that I just spent a good few minutes scrolling through my own content, having previously been convinced that I did. Evidently I did not, and I cannot explain why because I recommended this book to pretty much everyone I spoke to back in March. The mind boggles. Anyway, I picked this book up in the Waterstone’s ‘buy one get one half price’ bin when I was buying something else, and I must admit thrillers are not my usual choice (as clearly evidenced by the barrage of historical fiction I’ve just thrown at you in the last few paragraphs), but something about this book struck me, and once I started reading it I began to understand why.

The story begins with a woman returning home and discovering total strangers moving into her house, which has been emptied of all its contents and bought by someone else. Initially, I thought this was going to be a kind of ghost story because it seemed so improbable, but in a very ‘Gone Girl’-esque twist of a marriage turned sour and a husband and wife working against each other, I discovered that her husband had mysteriously disappeared and had had the house legally sold without her realising; which is communicated excellently through a totally unbelievable plot which holds more twists and turns than a back road through rural countryside.