HAY-ON-WYE

I thought, what better time to post about my time at Hay-On-Wye, national booktown of Wales and the world’s first booktown, than on Bookshop Day! 📚

I spent a couple of days there just over a month ago, and found it to be a surprisingly smaller town than I’d thought it was going to be… more compact, but with more than enough bookshops (and a few others besides) to keep any avid book collector busy.

And here’s where it all started! Richard Booth’s bookshop, that changed the small market town into the bustling book-haven it is today. The shop spans over three floors, with a mix of secondhand and new releases, art supplies and greeting cards. If you’re planning to visit, be mindful that their online floorplan isn’t accurate, as the crime fiction section no longer stretches the length of the wall in the basement, but is found at a much smaller section on the first floor (booo).

And it’s a good job I went to Hay-On-Wye on two seperate days, because this bookshop got overlooked on the first visit.

The Addyman Annexe, bursting with secondhand books, with a small selection of new releases and Hay-On-Wye tote bags.

Books everywhere

If you’re someone who’s after new releases over secondhand (same), then North Books has you covered, and was one of my favourites.

So bright and inviting! With a section for crime and YA fantasy, and other things.

And I’m gutted I didn’t get the Nancy Spain book I saw there which was the next one I needed 😖 (although to be fair, I already have three of her books, and I haven’t read any of them yet). But I did pick up another crime book, along with a something from the books in translation table in the other room, which I nearly missed.

Hidden away in the small non fiction room. I almost didn’t see it!

For other new releases of a certain theme…

Gay On Wye. Lol

Which I didn’t go into because, given the name, I was pretty sure it only had romance books. Not really my thing. Other niche bookshops I didn’t visit were:

Bookshop 451, which I passed on because sci-fi is even less my thing (somehow I managed to overlook the word ‘fantasy’ plastered underneath. Might have gone in for that), but there were so many other shops to see, and time was wasting.

Another one I didn’t visit was A Shop Called Alice. Is it just Alice in Wonderland inspired books and adaptations? Talk about niche! How many of those can there be? And I thought it more likely a kids’ bookshop. Either way, not for me. It’s also set a little apart from the main hub of shops, and I only spotted it on our way to the pub (more on that below).

But what is, my thing when it comes to books, is crime! And Hay-On-Wye is home to two small establishments specialising in such:

Murder and Mayhem (this is where I found an interesting book I’d not seen before, and as soon as I bought it I swear I saw it in every shop going. They were all stocking it!)

And

Christie & Doyle

Which houses a display of British Library Crime Classics like you’ve never seen. A whole wall of them. And a lot more second-hand books. An issue I have with this shop, however, is the stairs leading into a room.

See this luminated, eye-catching sign? You’re reading that and thinking “ha ha, I get it. Because it’s a crime bookshop. How droll.” Not realising they’re being serious.

And then you miss these very narrow stairs that almost merge into one. Surely some kind of health and safety violation??

Did I nearly fall into the room? Yes. Fortunately, my reflexes were quick enough to grab hold of the doorframe either side as I stumbled in, almost pulling my arms out of their sockets as I embarrassed myself in front of the two people in the room who just looked at me blankly. (No really, I’m fine. Thanks for asking). I loitering for a second before leaving, too embarrassed to stay and have a proper look around. (And I’d been up the night before throwing up, so already had aching ribs, and now sore arms to go with it. We’d only been at Hay-On-Wye about ten minutes). 😞

Seriously. Watch your step.

And last but not least (because I didn’t see everything they had like the Cinema or the free bookshop by the castle, or I just haven’t included some things here, like the Green Ink Booksellers or Clock Tower Books), we end with the Aladin’s cave that is Addyman Books.

Which I popped into quickly for a nosy, before we were set to go (thinking it just had one room with more second hand books in it, and how wrong was I! Room after themed room. You could get lost in there, but god knows how they manage with more than five people milling about).

Can you IMAGINE trying to pass people, or skirt around someone looking through the books? 🫤

So many orange penguin books

So many MORE orange penguin books!

One of the small rooms (I think this one had a mix of fantasy/paranormal books).

📚 📖 📚 📖 📚 📖 📚

And for lunch… Kilverts, with an extensive menu, good food, and a sizable beer garden if you have a dog. Highly recommend.

Yum!

And an ice cream and milkshake from Shepherds Parlour which I got on the way back to the car park because I was gasping! Which is why I got both. And regretted, because the ice cream started dripping, and I had two bags and a milkshake to hold and I was carrying someone else’s ice cream back. 😭

Too many choices 😵‍💫

And there were have it! A fun, full day of book shopping, kind of rushed (because I’m always late getting to places) and wishing I’d been there longer. But all-in-all, I still left with a little haul of… *drum roll* eight books! To add to my already insane tbr. 🙃 (Along with a couple of enamel pins, a bookmark, and a little something from the antique shop. I really wish I’d got to spend more time in there).

My lovely little selection 🥰

Addyman bag 😊

If you plan to visit and worry you won’t understand the Welsh accent, fear not! Because everyone’s English. The only welsh person I bumped into was another customer in the pub toilets, but she made me feel like I was actually in Wales. 😂

SENSE AND SENSIBILITY

For Elinor Dashwood, sensible and sensitive, and her romantic, impetuous younger sister Marianne, the prospect of marrying the men they love appears remote. In a world ruled by money and self-interest, the Dashwood-sisters have neither fortune nor connections. Concerned for others and for social proprieties, Elinor is ill-equipped to compete with self-centred fortune-hunters like Lucy Steele, whilst Marianne’s unswerving belief in the truth of her own feelings makes her more dangerously susceptible to the designs of unscrupulous men.

Through her heroines’ parallel experiences of love, loss, and hope, Jane Austen offers a powerful analysis of the ways in which women’s lives were shaped by the society in which they had to survive.

My copy of Sense and Sensibility doesn’t even have a blurb (found this one online from the Oxford World’s Classics collection) so I went into it knowing absolutely nothing. I’ve also never seen any of the film adaptations, but the hype over the new one got me, and I thought it was as good a reason as any to finally read it, because I’ve had it for years (it wasn’t this tatty looking when I first got it). I did try reading it ages ago, but didn’t get very far, so hoped I could finish it now before the film’s release (which was Friday, and I finished the last chapter on Saturday, so counting that as a win). 😁

So anyway…

After the death of their father, sisters Elinor and Marianne Dashwood (along with their mother and younger sister) move out of the family home after it’s taken over by their gullible cheapskate half brother and evil sister-in-law Fanny. (And I think this is the third book I’ve read recently that’s had a character called Fanny in it. Fanny’s everywhere! Lol). But this Fanny is mean 😤 and doesn’t want anything to happen between Elinor and her dull, boring brother Edward Ferrars (who Elinor actually likes, for some reason).

So they move to Devon, thanks to their happy and helpful distant cousin John Middleton, who has a cottage to let (and is the only decent guy in this book tbh). They meet his friend, the retired thirty-five old Colonel Brandon, who Marianne doesn’t like, because he’s thirty-five (ew, old), but he likes the look of her, because she reminds him of someone he used to know. So he just sort of stares at her across the room. Perfectly normal behaviour. Luckily Elinor does like him, which makes sense, because he’s bland and boring and we know that’s her type.

Unlike Elinor, Marianne is influenced by her emotions (or her sensibilities, if you will), and longs for someone as passionate about books and music and all the rest as she is, but she knows she will NEVER FIND THE PERFECT MAN FOR HER. 😭

Then she falls down a slope and finds her perfect man. Hooray! The handsome and charming Willoughby, and she is smitten. Days pass, and there’s a sneaking suspicion they might even be engaged! and then he leaves. Marianne’s pretty upset about it.

John bumps into his wife’s cousins, sisters Lucy and Anne Steele, both a bit poor and uneducated, but he loves gathering people together for a party, so they end up staying at his place where they’re introduced to Elinor and Marianne. Lucy (the pretty one), tells Elinor that she’s been secretly engaged to Edward Ferrars for four years..! (the scoundrel). Elinor’s pretty upset about it.

Marianne’s been in her emo era ever since Willoughby left and is an emotional wreck for most of the book (still ignoring the creepy Colonel who hasn’t so much as had a convo with her), Elinor acts as damage control, and revelations over the handsome gaslighter that is Willoughby had me draw comparisons to a certain other unscrupulous person from P&P.

And before you know it, everyone’s in London, including Edward, who’s been MIA for a while. The tension! The drama! Most of it involving his scheming little fiancé Lucy, who doesn’t realise she’s only getting special treatment from Edward’s mother and sister to spite Elinor. And boy, does she revel in it. And then, on a high at her good luck, the truth about her finally comes out, and the reader rejoices. 🥳

Marianne hears the unpleasant truth of Willoughby’s character, gets sick, learns the error of her ways, and vows to change (character development, I guess…? Though out of the two I probably preferred Marianne, because it must be exhausting to keep every emotional response in check every second of the day the way Elinor does. Girl needs to lighten up). And her reaction to a negative comment (such as the many from her idiot brother) is to…fall silent? That’s right, the only way you know she doesn’t agree with something someone’s said, is that she just stops talking. That, or she’s spared having to say anything at all, by the convenience of someone walking into the room before she has a chance to say anything, and that happens a lot.

And sure, both sisters end up getting married at the end, but it doesn’t really matter because I AM NOT HAPPY WITH THE MEN IN THIS BOOK. These’s a simp, a scumbag, and a plank of wood. That’s what there is to choose from.

Sense and Sensibility shows the difficulties in marrying for love, marrying for money, and the positives and pitfalls of both. Unfortunately I found Elinor to be too much of a passive character in her own story, her sister too dramatic and self-absorbed, and problematic characters everywhere! Ironically, in opposition to a complaint I had regarding Persuasion, this book had too much dialogue, and not enough description. But still looking forward to seeing the film later this week, so I can hate on the characters on the big screen! 😁

STRANGE JOURNEY

In this body swap comedy from the 1930s, the minds of two strangers, Lady Elizabeth and Polly Wilkinson, switch places – randomly and without warning – with alarming and hilarious results. With wry observations on class, behaviour and relationships, as both attempt to navigate the different social settings and awkward personal situations they sudenly find themselves thrust into, the two women eventually learn to control their ‘gift’ and use it to their advantage.

When twenty-eight year old Polly sees a luxurious car stop outside her house one day, she dreams of switching places with the woman inside it:

To get into that big, comfortable looking car, lean back in the soft cushions I felt sure that it contained, while the chauffeur made it glide away through the dusk to some pleasant house where there would be efficient servants and tea waiting, with a silver teapot, thin china, and perhaps hot scones, nice deep arm chairs to sit in, and magazines lying on the table.

(Not that she has anything against her life with her loving husband and two young kids).

At the same moment, the car’s occupant had the same thought; wanting to change places with the woman she sees standing outside a pleasant looking family home, and a week later, when she’s suddenly reminded of the car, Polly finds herself in unfamiliar surroundings, and occupying a stranger’s body. At first she thinks it’s a dream, then, when she learns the truth, holds Elizabeth entirely responsible. Luckily both women have the good sense not to mention it to anyone they know, so they don’t get sent to an asylum. As Polly put it:

One of Tom’s friends had an uncle in an asylum. He began by seeing things in people that were not really there – having hallucinations, they called it.

I wondered if my madness was the harmless sort, or if it would turn to mania. That friend of Tom’s had told us a great deal about lunatics, and how cunning they were. I determined to be cunning too, and hide the truth as long as I could.

The woman Polly finds herself changing places with on a regular basis is Lady Elizabeth, who is considerably wealthier than Polly, made evident by her extravagant lifestyle and social circle of other lords and ladies, a famous pianist, and politicians. Polly might have a decent income and a housemaid or two herself, but finds it a struggle to blend in seamlessly to her new surroundings whenever she’s switched places with Elizabeth and is expected to know who all these strangers are (but she gets a household of efficient staff and a handsome husband thrown in, so who cares!)

What was she like, the woman who made me do this incredible thing? The doctor did not think her domineering. How had she this complete power over me? He did not think her interfering; but she had made my family and friends dance to her tune.

Did she take a holiday from her usual behaviour when she changed places with me? What were her feelings about Gerald? Was she fond of him? I thought I could understand it if she were. He seemed to get annoyed with her a good deal, and yet –

Because her husband has absolutely no scruples about going off with other women, and Polly decides he doesn’t compare to her own caring and loyal husband. So she’s a little concerned that trickster Elizabeth wants to go after him disguised as his own wife, but that doesn’t stop Polly being just as bad on her end.

The whole adventure still seemed so dream-like that the thought of Gerald being my husband did not embarrass me at all.

and she even says to him

“I don’t see why I should not say nice things  to you, if I want to. Is it forward to admire one’s own husband?”

Imagine if Tom found out. Talk about double-standards!

Polly finds herself getting more invested in the goings-on of Elizabeth’s friends, and what the deal is between her and her husband, just as much as Elizabeth has fun with Polly’s lot, making up stories to tell her kids, putting an overbearing aunt in her place, and being the only person who can stand to listen to the morose ramblings of Mr Marshall. And although Polly and Elizabeth unwittingly cause a bit of trouble for one another, they help each other out, too. 

Strange Journey is a sweet fun story, and a thoroughly entertaining read, and I’m so glad I stumbled across it when I was looking for something else. What a happy accident! It kind of reminded me a little of Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day with the out of place character in a different social setting, and easy-going, lighthearted plot, but I definitely rate this one higher.

WHERE THERE’S A WILL…

Life in the village normally follows a comfortable, predictable routine. Bronte and Kate run a house cleaning and gardening business, Tony and Jeff are busy in the antique shop, and Alice enjoys baking fruit cakes. When a crime spree hits the usually quiet village, a popular couple is targeted, and now it is personal. The group of friends decide to take matters into their own hands and turn detective to investigate who is behind the crimes. What started out as a game becomes a battle of wits against an unknown adversary. Is everyone who they claim to be? Who can you really trust?

A wealthy couple have been broken into by a woman who disguises herself as pregnant, while she checks out places to steal from. With the help of accomplices, she also breaks into the local antiques shop, which is owned by Kate and Bronte’s uncle and his husband. Kate and Bronte, owners of a cleaning and gardening business, have a few people under their employ, including their most recent recruit, Jake, who has something of a negative reputation with the female staff, but Bronte likes him because he’s attractive. An elderly man whose only living relative is his estranged son, dies after a short illness, leaving behind a beagle who tries to eat everything. Kate decides she and Bronte should adopt the dog. Bronte witnesses someone claiming to be the old man’s son at the solicitor’s office, and her suspicions are aroused.

Guys… this book isn’t good.

For a crime/mystery novel, there is no mystery. Even if we didn’t see from the viewpoint of the baddies, there isn’t a cast of characters large enough beyond Kate, Bronte and their uncles to keep you guessing.

And what characters there are, are flat. The dialogue is stilted and unrealistic, and everyone sounds exactly the same. Sometimes, dialogue tags can just be ‘said.’ They don’t need to be something completely different every time, and if Hutchison added in a few action tags here and there, she’d find she wouldn’t need to. She’s also very sparing with using contractions, because she barely uses any.

A policewoman emerged from the house and signalled for Bronte to park next to the police car. 

“What is your business here?” She asked when Bronte wound down the window.

“We are employed by the Moor’s to maintain the garden,” Bronte replied. “We have come to cut the grass. Can I ask what has happened?”

“Do either of you ever work inside the house?” The policewoman continued, ignoring her question.

“No, we only work outside. I have never been in the house,” was Jake’s response. 

Reads like three robots having a chat.

(And the ammount of times I read ‘cannot’ instead of ‘can’t,’ especially in the second half of the book, is several times too many).

There are characters in their thirties who call the cinema ‘the pictures.’ That’s what my nan used to call it. Who in their thirties calls the cinema the pictures?!

And do we even learn what Kate, Bronte, or their uncles look like? We get the description of one of the uncles’ hair colour, and as for Kate and Bronte:

Bronte and Kate looked very alike both in stature and looks. There were a couple of years between them and when they were young, they were often mistaken for twins.

And that’s all you get. Hair/eye colour? Who knows. To say descriptions are lacking in this book would be an understatement.

The omniscient narrator is doing all the heavy lifting here because who needs subtle, nuanced storytelling, when you can just tell the reader what’s going on and what people are thinking/feeling?

The concept for the company ‘House Proud’ had been thought up one evening by Kate and her older sister Bronte almost five years earlier. They were sitting in the snug of the local pub, “The Golden Pheasant” at the time and were both drinking a large glass of wine. ‘House Proud’ had been created both out of necessity and also as a solution to what seemed to be a common problem. The necessity was that Kate had just been made  redundant from her job working in the local bank and Bronte was a trained landscape gardener who was finding it hard to get enough work to make a living. They both shared a cottage in the Lancashire village where they had grown up and also shared a mortgage. It had seemed like the perfect solution to get themselves onto the property ladder. Now that Kate had no income and Bronte’s was precarious, the need to bring in money was a pressing issue. It was whilst discussing their grandmother’s problem that the light bulb moment had happened. Their grandmother had recently had a fall…

Etc, etc. The whole book is like this.

Hutchison also likes to switch POVs without a blank space or asterisks, just an indent.

The dialogue of a teenage boy.

“I was in the middle of a computer game and I was winning. It’s the first time I have ever reached level seven. It was fantastic.  I unlocked more weapons. I would not have seen her at all, but I was getting a draught, which was really annoying me and putting me off my game, so I pulled back the curtain to check that the window was shut. That was when I saw her.”

*sigh*

The whole thing needs editing. I mean on a line-by-line, strip it all back and start again level. The plot’s boring because the mystery is non existent, the characters are underdeveloped, the description’s lacking, and grammatical issues are everywhere. I can’t get invested in a book when all I can think about is all the changes I’d make to it.

And this is why people shouldn’t go in for vanity publishers. They don’t help to make a book better, they’re not interested in that. They make their profit from the author, not book sales. And an author won’t get themselves a readership by churning out work like this.

THE BATTLE OF THE VILLA FIORITA

Hugh and Caddie Clavering arrive in Italy with a clear mission: to bring their mother home. With their lives upended by the sudden, bitter dissolution of their parent’s marriage, the children have travelled alone to Lake Garda, where Fanny has eloped with her lover.

At the villa Fiorita they find their mother happier than they’ve ever seen her, and deeply in love with Rob. But Hugh and Caddie have gone too far to give up their scheme now, and Rob’s young daughter is more than happy to help destroy her father’s new relationship. Under the dazzling Italian sun, battle lines are drawn – but will they realise their actions have consequences before it’s too late?

How is this the fourth consecutive book I’ve read that has a female main character who’s in her 40s? And the second book that I’ve read that leaves you thinking ‘you know what? Affairs aren’t that bad after all!’ Just two people in love.’ 💕 the first being Another Marvelous Thing, by Laurie Colwin. What terrible influences these authors are lol

So first of all, a little note on that blurb:

Because the first paragraph takes up the entire first half of the book, just on the set-up. It’s all backstory, secret meetings, and train journeys, with everything told in very precise detail, especially where descriptions of the landscape is concerned. Rumer’s strength in her writing is offering a very vivid sense of place. It’s a book that takes its time, and isn’t one you’re encouraged to rush through. And as a result, the pacing can feel as though it lags in places.

The second paragraph brought Lindsay Lohan’s movie The Parent Trap to mind, and I thought, great! Exciting antics of misbehaving kids trying to get their parents together in a series of playfully absurd ways, and after the gentle slog of the first half of the book, I was here for it.

Only it wasn’t.

Fanny Clavering is a mother to three kids, and a wife to a man who isn’t around much as he travels for work.

Caddie, her youngest daughter, is fixated on her pony Topaz. He’s her one character trait, her every thought, and the motivation behind her evil origin story.

Her son Hugh is a slight, femininely attractive boy who’s in his early teens and despite being a bolshy little shit, is beloved most of all by his adoring mother. And neither Hugh nor Caddie really seem to see their mother as a person in her own right, and don’t consider that maybe she doesn’t want to exist as nothing more than a maid to the rest of the family, thank you very much??

To be simply a wife and mother can blot you out, thought Fanny. I had had no fun or flattery for years.

She’s quiet, unassuming, and longs to be the centre of someone’s attention, and luckily for her, that happens, when their village is used as a film location, bringing with it cast and crew and Rob Quillet, the film’s director. He’s charming and attentive, instantly taking a liking to Fanny with absolutely no regard to the fact she’s a married woman. And she’s flattered by all the attention.

On the first evening they had been alone, in the drawing-room at Stebbings – ‘when you came to fetch me that first time’ – as Rob handed her a glass of sherry, his fingers had brushed hers. Soon they had only to be near one another for this current to begin, anytime, anywhere.

They embark on a forbidden romance which culminates in Fanny leaving her husband, and going to Spain with her new man. And you’d think the kids might be upset about their mum leaving and wonder why their parents are divorced, but they can only think about themselves.

Day after day was bleak, angry, miserable, and empty. ‘She’s missing her mother,’ Gwyneth said, but it was not Fanny that Caddie missed.

‘Father, may I speak to you? What… what is going to happen to Topaz?’

Where the ‘battle’ element is concerned in the fight to get their mum back, Hugh decides his best tactict is to be angry and resentful and mean 🙄 while Caddy and Pia attempt a bit of emotional manipulation via straight-up starvation until they get their own way. Needless to say, I have no sympathy for them.

And that ending? Devastating. I’m not into reading sad books, and I was so depressed when I finished it. Definitely not the light, fun summer read I was expecting. The Battle of the Villa Fiorita taught me that affairs can be a good idea, but kids? Not so much.

THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY

At the country estate of kindly Colonel Rostanev, parasitic houseguest Foma Opiskin has brought everyone under his sway. Now Opiskin plans to marry off his host to a wealthy widow. Will the Colonel give way to Opiskin’s bullying and sacrifice the love of his life, Nastasya? Or will he finally resist the petty tyrants demands?

Farcical and effervescent with absurdity, this short novel is a sparkling example of Dostoyevsky’s comic side – and a microcosmic portrait of Russia on the verge of upheaval and transformation.

Yegor Ilyich Rostanev is the sweetest guy you’ll ever read. Think Cinderella, crossed with Snow White and Kronk (minus the evil henchman element). He’s the living embodiment of childlike innocence, only seeing the good in people, and altruistic to a fault.

Apart from being unusually kind-hearted, my uncle, in spite of his somewhat rugged looks, was the most delicate and sensitive person imaginable; he was a man of the utmost nobility of soul and of courage tried and tested. I say ‘courage’ without reservation, because no matter what the obstacles, he never neglected or shirked his obligations or hesitated in the performance  of his duties. In spirit he was as innocent as a child. Indeed, he was a child at the age of forty: totally uninhibited and full of good cheer, he considered all men to be saints, blamed only himself for other people’s shortcomings and exaggerated their virtues out of all proportion, even ascribing them where there were none.

And much like the fairy tale princesses of yore (and I guess Kronk fits into this as well), he’s got a wicked parental figure to deal with. In Ilyich’s case, it’s his selfish, self-centred mother who somehow doesn’t see how good-natured her son is, gaslighting him in to believing he’s a terrible person, and her late husband’s most recent employee, Foma Fomich Opiskin, Ilyich’s complete opposite.

Foma Fomich Opiskin was the embodiment of the most boundless vanity, but vanity of a peculiar sort, to be found only in complete nonentities; vanity nurtured by crushing past injuries, long-festering, and from then on oozing envy and poison at every human contact, every encounter with another’s good fortune. Needless to say, all this was seasoned with the most exaggerated sense of offence, the most insanely developed mistrust in the world.

Foma suffers from a martyr complex, likes to behave the injured party in any given situation, never gives a genuine apology, and has no accountability whatsoever. And he has the nerve to call Ilyich vain! As far as he’s concerned, everything is Ilyich’s fault, and more often than not, Ilyich agrees with him (along with the rest of the household). And with noone in his corner, the poor guy needs help. Enter Sergey, Ilyich’s nephew and our protagonist and story teller, who recounts the events that unfold at Stepanchikovo.

Ilyich has asked Sergey to visit out of desperation, threatened by a looming engagement he’s had no say in, and absolutely doesn’t want. Sergey sees Foma for the type of guy he really is, and does his best to try and make his uncle see sense regarding his live-in leech, made all the more difficult as  Ilyich’s mother, hateful sister, and everyone else in the household (barring Ilyich’s distant cousin Mizinchikov and Ilyich’s young daughter Sasha) are just as obsessed with Foma, and hate to hear a bad word said against him.

But despite Mizinchikov, quiet and observant as he is, being the only other normal one there, he’s not without his own calculating designs. Another houseguest, Tatayana Ivanovna, a simple-minded girl with a romantic nature and a lot of money, is seen as fair game where marriage is concerned, and Foma and Ilyich’s mother plan to have Ilyich marry her for her fortune (ultimately putting it at Foma’s desposal). When Foma suspects that Ilyich has feelings for the governness, he plans to have her sent away so Ilyich can marry the wealthy weirdo.

Friend of the Family is about how an insufferable guy manipulates his way into taking control of a household, while mentally and emotionally ruining the life of the man who owns the place.

(The part that’ll have you cheering)

No sooner had Foma Fomich uttered these last words than Uncle grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him round like a wisp of straw, and hurled him violently through the French window into the courtyard. The blow was so violent that the doors, standing slightly ajar, flew wide open and Foma Fomich rolled head over heels down the seven steps and ended up in the yard flat on his face.

And with twenty-four more pages to go, you know it isn’t the last you’ll see of Foma, but what a perfect ending that would have been!

N OR M?

It is World War two, and while the RAF struggles to keep the Luftwaffe at bay, Britain faces an even more sinister threat from ‘the enemy within’ – Nazis posing as ordinary citizens.

With pressure mounting, the Intelligence service appoints two unlikely spies, Tommy and Tuppence Beresford. Their mission: to seek our a man and a woman from among the colourful guests at Sans Souci, a seaside hotel. But this assignment is no stroll along the promenade – N and M have just murdered Britain’s finest agent and no one at all can be trusted…

The third book of the Tommy & Tuppence mystery series sees our main characters married, parents, and disregarded for their age. (Not me being fresh off of reading Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, and reading more over the hill fourty year olds. How do I do it??) Fortunately Tuppence is of the ‘I can still do stuff I’m not that old’ mindset, but it was still a shock to learn they now had two children, fully grown, and doing their part for the war effort, something Tommy and Tuppence also want for themselves, so they eagerly grab the first (and only) opportunity that sees them leave their flat to go undercover and weed out some bad guys! Because as Mr Grant put it,

“The rot is in the department itself. One hint that I’ve got my eye on Sans Souci for any reason – and the organisation may be put wise. That’s where you come in, the outsider. That’s why you’ve got to work in the dark, without help from us. It’s our only chance.”

So off they go to a little seaside guest house to uncover the identities of the mysterious N and M. And at the guesthouse with them are:

Mrs Perenna, proprietress of the guests house along with her rebellious daughter Sheila. Miss Minton, an elderly woman who wore a lot of beads, and spent her time knitting. Mr Cayley and his many ailments, Mrs Cayley, ‘an anxious-faced woman who seemed to have no other aim in life than to minister to Mr Cayley’s wants,’ Carl von Deinim, a German defector and research chemist who escaped Germany after his brothers had been killed in concentration camps, and he’d lost his mother to grief.

“I fled from my own country because of injustice and cruelty. I came here to find freedom. I hated nazi Germany. But, alas, I am still german. Nothing can alter that.”

Tuppence murmured:

“You may have difficulties, I know -“

“It is not that. I am a German, I tell you. In my heart – in my feeling. Germany is still my country. When I read of german cities bombed, of german soldiers dying, or german aeroplanes brought down – they are my people who die.”

(I was actually surprised to see his character being treated with such compassion from Christie, given that the novel was published in ’41, two years into the second world war, where public opinion of any Germans was probably unfavourable).

There’s also Major Bletchley, who I’d regularly confuse with Commander Haydock, the retired Naval gentleman living in the house on the hill, Mrs Sprot, a young mother with her toddler Betty, and Mrs O’Rourke, a ‘terrifying mountain of a woman with beady eyes and moustache’, who always has eyes on Tuppence.

“Im interested in my fellow creatures, that’s why I sit in this chair as often as I can. You see who goes in and who goes out and who’s on the veranda and what goes on in the garden.”

And Tommy and Tuppence watch them all carefully, and suspect them all equally. (Well. Most of them). But despite some red herrings, they uncover the identities of both culprits. (Although discovering one by accident doesn’t really qualify as intuitive sleuthing).

As it’s a story of international espionage, the plot is less action driven than other crime novels, even a little meandering until we near the end, and  they uncover the identities of N and M.

I liked the intimidating O’Rourke and the poor, stigmatised Von Deinim. (And I’ll overlook the unnecessary reveal, because Christie’s show of compassion toward Germans who also suffered through the war and likewise disliked the Nazis, is still pertinent).

MISS PETTIGREW LIVES FOR A DAY

Miss pettigrew lives forward day is about a down-on-her-luck, middle-aged governess, sent by an employment agency to the wrong address: instead of a household of unruly children, she encounters a glamorous nightclub singer named Miss LaFosse. Over a period of 24 hours her life is changed – forever.

Miss Pettigrew, ‘permanently seeking a new job, nervous, incompetent, dowdy and shy’, who’s only source of a good time is a solitary trip to the cinema (there is such a thing as a character being a little too relatable, you know?) is hopeful of securing a position as governess, despite admitting that she’s terrible at it. But when she’s greeted by the beautiful, yet panic-stricken Delysia LaFosse, she finds herself being unduly roped in to help the hapless club singer deal with her three love interests, especially the attentions of the handsome, compelling yet troublesome Nick.

“You see, Nick’s a very dangerous person. That’s why he hadn’t to learn of Phil. He’s more money than Phil. He’s more influence than Phil. He’s might quite easily do something that might hurt Phil. I couldn’t have that happen. I mean, it wouldn’t be fair. After all, I led Phil on. Phil’s willing to back me in a show. Nick won’t. He’s too jealous. He wont help me an inch with my career, and however much you like a man you still want your career. So you see I couldn’t have Nick trying to hurt Phil.”

“No,” agreed Miss Pettigrew firmly. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

She’s just a business woman doing what she has to for the progression of her career, and the virtuous Miss Pettigrew finds she absolutely loves the thrill of Miss LaFosse’s outrageous lifestyle, and all the excitement she’s never got to experience for herself.

Shocked, excited, and, yes, thrilled. Thrilled right down to the very marrow of her bones. Why pretend? This was life. This was drama. This was action. This was the way the other half lived.

Thank’s to Miss LaFosse’s friendly and easygoing nature, and her equally accepting friend Miss Dubarry who arrives at the flat with her own relationship woes, Miss Perrigrew goes through some fast character development for what is a fairly modest circadian novel, going from a meek, nervous woman with little life experience, to suddenly a vital resource, and dear friend. All in a day!

Hardly anyone had ever troubled to talk to her about anything at all: not in a personal sense. But these people! They opened their hearts. They admitted her. She was one one of themselves. It was the amazing way they took her for granted that thrilled every nerve in her body. No surprise: they simply said ‘Hallo’, and you were one of themselves. No worrying what your position and your family and your bank balance were. In all her lonely life Miss Pettigrew had never realised how lonely she had been until now, when for one day she was lonely no longer.

How nice must that be? To just wake up one morning when you’re going through a bit of a shit time, and inadvertently end the day with new friends and good memories, with no effort whatsoever.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day is a light, fluffy and whimsical novel, humorously told, with sweet characters and a gentle plot. Is there some…shall we call them…outdated ideas? Yes. (Outdated, though sadly, not as obsolete as they should be), and honestly out of the three guys we meet, Phil, a laidback guy with a sense of humour seemed like the best choice, but we can’t have that, because he looks a little jewish? And Michael didn’t seem any better than Nick when we’re introduced to him. Just as much of a bully. The only thing that saved his character for me, was learning that he was aware Miss LaFosse was also seeing Nick, and that his future with her depended on whatever decision she made.

The novel also depicts Miss Pettigrew’s age (dangerously close to my own), as being over the hill and closing in on a retirement home. (The amount of times she mentions how much older than the other characters she is, ‘I’m too old for this’ and ‘when you get to my age’ etc etc, I thought for sure she was somewhere in her fifties. She’s only fourty! I felt my bones crumble to dust when I read that) so obviously I had no choice but to deduct half a star for those reasons.

Overall, it’s a hopeful, lighthearted feel-good read. And there are pictures!

THE MYSTERY OF A BUTCHER’S SHOP

When Rupert Sethleigh’s body is found one morning, laid out in the village Butcher’s Shop but minus its head, the inhabitants of Wandles Parva aren’t particularly upset. Sethleigh was a blackmailing money lender and when Mrs Bradley begins her investigation she finds no shortage of suspects. It soon transpires that most of the village seem to have been wandering about Manor Woods, home of the mysterious druidic stone on which Sethleigh’s blood is found splashed, on the night he was murdered, but can she eliminate the red herrings and catch the real killer?

It’s been a few years since I’ve read Speedy Death, but I remember it taking place almost exclusively within the confines of a manor house, but with The Mystery of a Butcher’s Shop, there’s a little more breadth of space between a manor house, vicarage, Stone House, and Manor Woods, where in a clearing, there’s the ominous Stone of Sacrifice.

Mrs Bradley walked up to the Stone of Sacrifice and laid a claw-like yellow hand upon its surface. The stone was reptile-harsh and curiously cold to the touch. She drew her hand away and gazed benignley at the strange old rock.

‘It reeks of evil,’ she said solemnly. ‘What blood was shed; what wicked deeds were done; what screams, what torture, and what agony this ancient monument has heard and seen, by Great good fortune we shall never know.’

Spooky!

Mrs Bradley is staying at the Stone House not far from the manor, where its owner, Rupert Sethleigh, has disappeared. Possibly to america, as his cousin Redsey claims (while also acting suspiciously wary of the woods). He’s been staying with Sethleigh in the hopes of gaining a monetary advantage, but it ends in an argument the day before Sethleigh’s disappearance, and the unfortunate coincidence of human remains being discovered chopped up, and hanging from the hooks in the butcher’s shop in town. Yikes!

Now. There is something to be said about having a book on your tbr for the longest time, and only re-reading the blurb when you’re about ninety-eight pages in. Because I was like “oh, guess that was Sethleigh in the butcher’s shop, then…” and “he was blackmailing people?” and “everyone was in the woods??” Because suffice it to say, at nine chapters in, none of this had been made evident yet. And if I’d only just read the blurb before diving in, I might have been be a bit bored, because I’d already know what was what. (Bit of a mistake on the publisher’s end, imo).

But before Mrs Bradley makes her appearance, we’re kept informed, entertained, and slightly troubled by Sethleigh’s cousins Rupert and Aubrey, Aubrey’s mother, a “tall, large, and spirited” woman, and the vicar’s daughter, Felicity Broome. (And if you think the relationship between Felicity and her dad is a bit weird with all the times she calls him ‘darling’, and ‘dearest’, and other terms of endearment, then same! Because who talks to their dad like that? Just WEIRD).

Then there’s the trio of unconventional londoners that have recently moved to the area for reasons unknown, a disgruntled gardener, a secret marriage, a secret child, a secret affair, unknown siblings getting a bit too close for comfort… a bloodied suitcase, and a skull.

Plenty of people have motive to kill Sethleigh, of course… but who would have the stomach to carve up a corpse? And not only that, but to hang it all up in a butcher’s shop? That’s a special kind of messed up, and an idea I feel Mitchell was really taken with, but failed to give the guilty party a good enough reason behind it.

Fifteen year old Aubrey, at the very least, has a fun time helping Mrs Bradley work out who committed such a heinous crime, despite finding her a bit creepy. (Along with Felicity and Redsey and everyone else she meets), but you can’t blame them. As Redsey puts it:

He thought he had never seen such a wicked old woman. She reminded him of some dreadful bald-headed bird he had seen in a picture at some time. Not that she was bald-headed, of course – but you got the same sort of sick feeling when you looked at her. And yet, on second thoughts, wasn’t she more like one of those reptiles – no, not reptiles! What was that word? – Saurians! When she was amusing herself at your expense, which was ninety per cent of the time – and the other ten per cent was when she didn’t even seem aware that you were on the map at all! – her little smile was like that he had seen on the face of a newt – no, a sand lizard! No, one of those repulsive-looking giant frogs.

And she doesn’t give a FUUUUK (I don’t know how she ever had a kid lol).

The pacing was good, kept up by regularly switching from one character’s pov to another, something I think was lacking in the first novel. I liked the interesting characters, like the assertive, no-nonsense Mrs Bryce Harringay, the overly relaxed and forgetful vicar (who reminds me of Freddy Pelham from Patricia Wentworth’s Grey Mask), and even Mrs Bradley herself (despite, yet again, deciding on the outcome). But I definitely feel I warmed up to her in this one, the creepy old bird lol.

A MONTH IN THE COUNTRY

One summer, just after the Great War, Tom Birkin, a demobbed soldier, arrives in the village of Oxgodby. He has been invited to uncover and restore a medieval wall painting in the local church. At the same time Charles Moon – a fellow damaged survivor of the war – has been asked to locate the grave of a village ancestor. As these two outsiders go about their work of recovery, they form a bond, but they also stir up long dormant passions within the village. What Birkin discovers here will stay with him for the rest of his life…

A Month in the Country is a slow, gentle reminiscence from the protagonist Tom, as he recounts a summer spent away from London (and his cheating wife), after the great war, to spend a month in a rural village uncovering the hidden artwork on the church’s wall.

As well as the hints of his broken marriage, there are suggestions of the horrors he faced during the war sprinkled between descriptions of the surrounding countryside, and his fascination with the artwork and artist as he uncovers it. He’s joined in his restful reprieve by Charles Moon, another soldier who also survived the war, although not without his own hardships, but he’s full of good humour and friendship, and with other members of the village warmly accepting them into their fold, his journey of healing finds its end as summer draws to a close, and the picture is finally complete. The healing power of art and nature, everyone! But not too healing, because occasionally future Tom recounts his days with a tone of bitterness over past regrets that leave the reader a bit disheartened about getting a happy ending. (I’d put this down to the fact future Tom had also had to deal with the second world war, and was no doubt envious of his younger self’s blissful ignorance).

I’d describe A Month in the Country as quiet whisper of a novella. A very sedate, meandering sort of book. The literary equivalent to sprawling in the middle of a field on a hot day, if you will. Bees buzzing, the long grass swaying in the breeze, the slow, endless hours stretching before you… Carr definitely manages to capture the feeling of a slow summer, but if you’re after something with more of a plot that picks up the pace, this isn’t it.