Tag Archives: Victorian

The Prince and the Whitechapel Murders by Saul David

Hodder & Stoughton | 2018 (22 February) | 294p | Review copy | Buy the book

The Prince and the Whitechapel Murders by Saul DavidIt is 1888 and Major George ‘Zulu’ Hart has returned to England a war hero, decorated with the Victoria Cross. He brings with him his wife and their young child. One would think that they would be ready for a well-deserved rest, but George wishes he were on another fighting commission abroad, and he is well aware that he and his wife are far too profligate for his salary. So he has no choice but to accept his new mission, as unusual as it may seem. Hart is asked to keep the Prince of Wales’s son Prince Albert, known to everyone as Eddy, safe for a year. The Prince, a cavalry officer in George’s regiment, a charismatic, handsome and likeabale man, lives on the edge of scandal. He and his friends frequent London’s male brothels and are seen out and about in Whitechapel, one of London’s most poverty-stricken areas. It’s only a matter of time before Eddy’s behaviour brings disgrace on the royal family.

The timing couldn’t be worse. Irish nationalism is on the rise and its threat has reached London. Prince Eddy is a target for Irish assassins. And the streets of London are restless. A killer is slaughtering Whitechapel’s female prostitutes in the worst of ways. He is known as Jack the Ripper and the rumours surrounding his identity are growing out of control. Major George Hart has no choice but to suspect the worst.

The Prince and the Whitechapel Murders is the third ‘Zulu’ novel by military historian Saul David but this stand alone novel represents a bit of a change for the author. There are no battles to fight here, no recognisable enemy. Instead, what we have is a stand alone Victorian murder mystery featuring a military hero who now has to play detective but must also play a social game. This story also gives George a chance to find out more about the Duke of Cambridge, the man he believes to be his father, and this adds a welcome personal element to the novel’s development.

The relationship between George and the Prince is arguably the most appealing aspect of the novel. There is an etiquette of behaviour demanded by the Prince’s royal position but there is also the matter of army rank – George Hart outranks Prince Eddy and there is a real tension from this that I found fascinating. The novel moves between different worlds – the regulated army, the police investigation into the Ripper murders, the stews of Whitechapel, its brothels and also the pubs where men meet to plot harm. The most vividly depicted are the streets of Whitechapel. The fact that we know what happened to Jack the Ripper’s latest victims, and who they were, adds foreboding.

The investigation into the identity of Jack the Ripper forms the heart of the novel and there are some intriguing suggestions made. I did guess the outcome as presented here very early on and so I’m not sure that it works especially well as a whodunnit but the novel does capture well the squalor of Whitechapel and the constraints of the police investigation.

I found much of the novel rather cold and clinical. I never warmed to George Hart. His family plays very little part in the proceedings and the other relationships in the novel are emotionless. There is a major crime in the book, apart from the Jack the Ripper murders, which is truly horrifying and shocking and yet it’s almost brushed aside.

The Prince and the Whitechapel Murders takes as its subject one of the most infamous and terrible crimes of the Victorian age and adds to it the rather less well known activity of the Irish Fenians as well as the scandalous behaviour of the Queen’s eldest grandson. Major George Hart is thrown into the midst of it all. Possibly there is too much plot for a relatively short novel to juggle but it certainly deals with a fascinating time and raises some interesting themes about Victorian society, morality, politics and murder.


Victoria and Albert: A Royal Love Affair by Daisy Goodwin and Sara Sheridan

HarperCollins | 2017 (21 September) | 303p | Bought copy | Buy the book

Victoria and Albert by Daisy Goodwin and Sara SheridanLast Sunday the second series of the ITV historical drama Victoria finished and I was left bereft. So when I saw the handsome companion volume in the shops yesterday I snapped it up and it’s fair to say that I’ve spent much of last night and today completely immersed in it. Not just because it brought back all those lovely feelings you get when watching a drama series that you love but also because it made me do my homework. I know a little bit about Queen Victoria but Victoria and Albert presented me with so much that I wanted to learn more about. And so I did get distracted. In the best of ways. Looking up original photos, old paintings, contemporary accounts, Victorian recipes, exhibition catalogues, dress illustrations, political tracts and so much more. Victoria and Albert: A Royal Love Affair felt like a beautiful, glamorous gateway.

Daisy Goodwin, of course, is the author behind the screenplay of the TV series and in the book she gets the chance to explain exactly where she veered from historical fact. The series does this quite a bit and so I appreciated the chance to see the events of the series and its people put in their true context and order. The book doesn’t delve too deeply. It isn’t that kind of book. It’s more of a general guide to the people and themes of the series, presented in short, beautifully-presented and fully-illustrated sections, accompanied by quotes from contemporary sources, such as Victoria and Albert’s letters and journals, and snippets from the TV series.

So we’re given short sections on such things as travel, the churching ceremony after childbirth, corsets, sex, Ira Aldridge (the African-American actor), inventions, Ada Lovelace, the Corn Laws, the Irish Famine, pets, royal nicknames, and so much more, as well as sections on each of the key figures who feature in the drama. There are also regular panels which go behind the scenes of the series, looking at makeup, costume, food, child actors and so on. All lavishly accompanied by illustrations – photos from the series as well as contemporary photographs, paintings and newspaper pages. There is so much to look at!

The book focuses on 1840-1846, the years covered by series 2 of Victoria. It does merely touch on some of its themes – you can hardly adequately cover such topics as the Irish Famine in a page – but it certainly does enough to spark further interest and investigation. There were some subjects I would have liked the book to tackle more, particularly the royal children and the household servants. I would have loved to have known more about the butler, for instance.

If you enjoyed the Victoria series, then I think you might well like this stunning hardback. It doesn’t replace detailed studies of Victoria’s early reign but it most definitely illuminates some of the period’s themes for the more general reader. I’ve now ordered the other companion volume, The Victoria Letters by Helen Rappaport, and will be looking at biographies. I’m hooked. This book has also re-awoken in me an interest in historical non-fiction which I thought I’d put to bed some time ago. It turns out I was wrong. Thank heavens.

The Silent Companions by Laura Purcell

Raven Books | 2017 (5 October) | 364p | Review copy | Buy the book

It is 1865 and Elsie Bainbridge carries the cares of the world on her shoulders. Married just months before, her husband Robert has died and she has little choice but to head to his crumbling country estate, The Bridge, where she will give birth to their child. The villagers are hostile and the servants are suspicious and unfriendly. Fortunately, Elsie has her husband’s cousin Sarah for company. They will come to rely on each other very much in the lonely months ahead. But perhaps they are not as alone as they might think.

When Elsie sets about getting to know her new home, she and Sarah come across a locked garret. Inside they find a diary dating from the 1630s and a wooden figure that looks disturbingly familiar. It is, she learns, a Silent Companion. Soon Elsie’s nights are disturbed by strange sounds. The servants insist there’s a nest of rats hiding in the walls. Elsie isn’t so sure – it sounds like wood being worked, being moved.

Interspersed throughout this wonderfully creepy, superbly Gothic novel are extracts from the diary which take us back in time to 1635 when Anne Bainbridge was mistress of the house. At that time everyone was hugely excited because King Charles I and his Queen were intending to spend a night at The Bridge. Everything was going so well…

I love haunted house stories and The Silent Companions was a book I couldn’t wait to read. I’d been told that it was genuinely frightening and so I settled down to read it late one evening. In fact, I only read this book at night. This isn’t a book for commutes and lunchtime reads – it deserves to be read by lamplight, when every sound seems louder in the quiet night. It’s a hugely atmospheric read. The Bridge is a fine example of a rickety, old and unloved Gothic mansion. It creeks. Its wood feels alive. And in its midst are Elsie and Sarah. We fear for them.

The sections from the 1630s are every bit as engrossing as the Victorian chapters. And the characters are just as intriguing, if not more so. Told in Anne’s own words, during these sections we are immersed in the past and it’s a dangerous and fearful place indeed.

I had two very late nights with The Silent Companions. I didn’t want to put it down and I couldn’t wait to pick it up again. It certainly gave me the heebie jeebies and made my spine shiver. I love that feeling! It’s dark, tragic and, at times, deliciously scary, but it never goes overboard. The emphasis here is on Elsie and Anne and what this house, so claustrophobic and dark, does to them, two centuries apart. It’s quite a tale, full of Gothic wonders. I must also say that the hardback is gorgeous inside and out.

The Zealot’s Bones by D.M. Mark

Mulholland Books | 2017 (21 September) | 247p | Review copy | Buy the book

The Zealot's Bones by DM MarkIt is 1849 and Canadian Diligence Matheson has arrived in Hull to search for the bones of the apostle Simon the Zealot, believed to have been buried somewhere in Lincolnshire following his execution by the Romans in their fort at Caistor. With Matheson as bodyguard and companion is Meshach Stone, a former soldier who is tortured by his experiences of war in Afghanistan. Both men find themselves in another hell on Earth. The city of Hull is gripped by an outbreak of cholera that is wiping out almost whole families and streets, leaving behind the wails and torment of the bereft. Stone has hopes of finding redemption in Hull but instead he finds dead the woman he so wanted to love. There are so many dead but this woman’s death was not through cholera – she was murdered. And she is not the only one. Driven almost mad by his need for vengeance, Stone must hunt down the murderer in a city where Death roams freely and hell awaits around every dark corner.

David Mark is familiar to many as the author of the McAvoy contemporary police detective series but in The Zealot’s Bones he picks up the reins of a historical murder mystery for the first time – and I am so glad he did. The Zealot’s Bones is nothing short of brilliant and is one of the finest historical novels I’ve had the pleasure of reading this year.

The writing is superb. This is a dark, gruesome and twisted tale and through it walk the damned and the afflicted. And David Mark brings both the locations and characters to life with the most gorgeously vivid prose. The dialogue is wonderful and often extremely witty as we know well that what a character says need not be at all what he or she means. This is an age of manners and etiquette and sometimes not even murder is allowed to interfere with that. When one memorably odious character meets Matheson and Stone, he utters ‘I… extend the hand of welcome, even if I would rather chew it off’ and this sums up the hypocrisy of this impoverished, plague-ridden and cruel Victorian world. It also made me chuckle.

Stone is a fabulous creation. In many ways he believes that he is as evil as the monster he hunts and his body is as scarred as he believes his soul must also be. We’re taken deep into his troubled mind and it isn’t always a gentle place to be but there is a kindness about Stone, a willingness to change his life, that makes his experiences here all the more painful and meaningful to read about. His relationship with the rather lovely and charming Diligence Matheson is tender and enjoyable. I loved Diligence’s quest for the Zealot’s bones. He’s so easily distracted but he too has something to prove.

There are some fantastic characters in The Zealot’s Bones, whether they’re good or evil. The ratcatcher is quite a scene stealer and there are other intriguing men and women who make brief but colourful cameos. The murders are horrendous, their victims utterly pitiful and the murderer an abomination. This is gruesome stuff and I found it impossible to tear my eyes away. And all is set against the most perfectly described backdrops of a city devastated by death and mourning and a wonderfully creepy country house, likewise caught in the grip of something dreadful and disturbing. Increasing the mood are Stone’s haunted memories and dreams of his experiences in Afghanistan. It’s all mesmerising and every line of fine prose does its job to hook the reader in and keep them there.

I hope so much that Meshach Stone returns. If he does, that book will go straight to the top of my reading pile with no shadow of doubt.

Other reviews
Dead Pretty

The Wages of Sin by Kaite Welsh

Tinder Press | 2017 (1 June) | 320p | Review copy | Buy the book

The Wages of Sin by Kaite WelshIt is 1892 and, for the first time, the University of Edinburgh’s medical centre permits women entry to train to become doctors. Sarah Gilchrist is one of the first cohort of female students and, every single day she and her classmates are reminded how unpopular they are – by the male students, their lecturers and by society in general, which regards them as unnatural to their sex. And Sarah Gilchrist has it tougher than most. Sarah is an exile from London. From among the upper classes, which in itself marks her out, Sarah has been expelled from her family on account of a scandal for which Sarah was blamed entirely. She now lives a virtual prisoner under the roof of her aunt and uncle whose instruction is to improve Sarah and make her suitable for marriage. Studying to become a doctor is the last thing they want for Sarah but even they understand that this disinherited and discarded young woman must earn a living somehow. And there are worse ways…

The Wages of Sin immerses us in an Edinburgh that is stricken by that Victorian disease of hypocritical and dishonest morality. The city is itself divided in two, between its respectable side which lives in the streets under the sky, and then its poverty-stricken and dangerous side, which hides in buried sewer streets of brothels, taverns and opium dens. Sarah moves between the two, training to become a doctor in the University, scrutinised by chaperones, and helping out in a hospital for the deserving poor, attending, among others, prostitutes and drunks. And when one of Sarah’s patients from the hospital, a young prostitute, ends up on the dissecting table of her medical class, the two worlds collide and Sarah is determined to find justice for the poor girl, no matter the danger to herself. Sarah believes that the greatest weapon anyone can hold over her is her past. She is wrong.

I love Victorian mysteries and the darker they are the better, and The Wages of Sin is steeped in atmosphere. Everything is described so richly, from the medical hospital to the slums to the parlours of the rich and respectable. The colours are so well painted. I felt like I was moving through a world of brown velvet, of wood-panelled walls and cold, ill-lit streets. But the atmosphere is squeezed and oppressed by the prejudice that these young female students face day in day out and, in particular, the absolute injustice that Sarah has been dealt. Sarah’s story is agonising and made even more powerful that we only hear it bits at a time and what we learn is shocking. It’s not often when I read a book that I feel rage but I felt it for Sarah Gilchrist.

The origins of feminism can be found in this marvellous novel and it doesn’t always make easy reading. The chauvinism of the students and the lecturers towards the female students pales by comparison against the cruelty of Sarah’s own family. On top of this we have the hypocrisy of Victorian philanthropists and the brutality suffered by the poor. There is a great deal here to make my hackles rise and that’s even before we get to the murder mystery!

The Wages of Sin is as much a scrutiny of its times as it is a crime novel and it is very well done indeed. It takes its time to build up this world. The story is told by Sarah herself and it is weighted by the burden she carries. She is so easy to like but the risks she runs! The mistakes she makes! It’s such a good story and a wonderful debut by Kaite Welsh. The good news is that this is the first in a series. I am so pleased that we’ll be seeing Sarah again and I’ll be cheering on this pioneering young woman.

A Mask of Shadows by Oscar de Muriel

Penguin | 2017 (6 April) | 496p | Review copy | Buy the book

A Mask of Shadows by Oscar de MurielIt is 1889 and Edinburgh is alive with a theatrical fervour – Ellen Terry and Henry Irving, those most glamorous and famous of actors, are bringing Shakespeare’s Macbeth to the city. The Scottish Play is coming home! Unfortunately, they’re bringing with them murder and mayhem.

The production’s closing night in London had been spoiled – or enriched (depending on your point of view) – by the unnatural shrieks of a banshee, accompanied by unclearly targeted death threats against members of the company. Irving is not going to let this stop the production’s move and so the company heads to Edinburgh where, during rehearsals, more banshee wailings and death threats promise dire consequences for the cast and crew on the opening night of Macbeth. Some might say that this is no more than The Curse. Others might even suggest that this is better than any bought publicity could be. Detective Nine-Nails McGray, however, can always be relied upon to find the unnatural and supernatural in most cases, while Inspector Ian Frey, whose Englishness continues to cause him a great deal of trouble from McGrey, is determined to prove these threats have a more mundane origin. They even put a bet on it. But who will win the wager? And will the threats come true – will there be murder on the opening night of Macbeth? One thing’s for sure – the theatre will be absolutely packed to the rafters.

As soon as I heard about A Mask of Shadows I couldn’t wait to read it. Its predecessor, A Fever of the Blood, was one of my top reads of 2016 and I was more than ready to spend more time with the incorrigible and ever battling Frey and McGray. Frey might be the voice of reason – or, at least, that’s what he wants you to think – but McGray, with his tartan, strong accent and feisty attitude, is a scene stealer if ever there was one. I love the banter between these two men. It’s never too clear just how much all this professed hatred is genuine but one can’t help thinking that deep deep down McGrey doesn’t entirely despise his colleague from the wrong side of the border.

McGray and Frey have certainly met their match in this case. Henry Irving and Ellen Terry are extraordinary personalities, both intimidating and charismatic. It is true that Ellen Terry frightened me in a way that I can’t quite put my finger on. And observing it all is the production’s manager Bram Stoker, yet another person we know from history who also shouldn’t be taken too lightly. The mood of this novel is so dimly lit and intensely spirited that I wouldn’t have been surprised if Dracula prowled the theatre’s wings.

I really enjoy Oscar de Muriel’s writing. This is Victorian melodrama at its richest, darkest and most enticing. The dialogue is full of colour and wit (and imaginative insults). The costumes, both on and off stage, are vividly described. The streets of Edinburgh come alive, walked upon by people in top hats and crinolines. You can almost feel the city’s need for the heightened excitement and thrills of the play’s arrival in its grandest theatre. The atmosphere and mood ooze from the pages in the most delicious fashion.

But there is a dark reality here, too, removed from the melodrama of the stage. We meet people, children even, who have been badly harmed. We learn of secrets and deceits. Real personal feelings have been hurt. At times this is a tragic read for all of its glamour and theatricality. I love this mix of reality and imagination and that sums up perfectly the relationship between Frey and McGray, two of the most wonderful and original detectives you could meet in historical crime fiction.

Oscar de Muriel has established himself firmly as one of my favourite authors. His books will always go to the top of my reading pile and it’s a pleasure to write about them.

Other review
A Fever of the Blood

My Name is Victoria by Lucy Worsley

Bloomsbury Childrens | 2017 (9 March) | 384p | Review copy | Buy the book

My Name is Victoria by Lucy WorsleyIt is the late 1820s and King George IV is close to death. He will be succeeded by his brother William who is not expected to survive George for long. His heir, Princess Victoria, is effectively held captive in Kensington Palace by her mother and her mother’s dearest friend Sir John Conroy. Conroy is the creator of the Kensington System, a regime designed to keep Victoria constantly under observation and so secure from the plots of her royal relatives who might fancy themselves as heirs to the British throne, rather than this lonely, unhappy yet spirited child. But Conroy wants to extend his influence over Victoria even more and to do that he gives Victoria his own daughter, known to one and all as Miss V (to distinguish her from Miss Conroy, her elder sister, and from the princess), as companion, sister and, Conroy hopes, spy. But both Victoria and Miss V have minds of their own and, after uneasy and suspicious beginnings, they form the tightest of friendships.

And so begins the story of Princess Victoria and Miss V’s friendship. With half of the novel covering their years as small children, about the age of 10 or 11, the second takes us up to their later teens and the arrival of German princes and the relentless approach of fate in the shape of an ailing King William IV.

Lucy Worsley does such a fine job of spreading her enthusiasm and knowledge of history. She’s an inspirational presenter and writer, and I loved Eliza Rose, Lucy Worsley’s debut novel for young adults which told the story of Henry VIII’s tragic fifth queen, Katherine Howard. This time, the author goes back (or forward) to another period of history and once again reveals a young girl who is in many ways, despite the glamorous appearances of power, a vulnerable victim of history. Princess Victoria, though, is determined to win her freedom from the enemy, which is here represented by Conroy and the Kensington System. And history tells us how this will turn out.

But My Name is Victoria isn’t quite as it seems and it’s possibly because of this that the book lost me during the second half when we move from historical fiction to historical fantasy or alternate history. This is, though, my fault. I’ve never got on with alternate history, especially when I know quite well the period of history from which we’re diverted. However likeable, stubborn and proud she is, I didn’t recognise Princess Victoria from history, or her mother, or the German princes. The princess’s mother plays barely a role here.

Having said all that, this is a novel aimed at children, not at me. Whereas Eliza Rose seemed to me to have a wide appeal across ages – perhaps because of its themes and dire consequences, My Name is Victoria feels more comfortably targeted at younger readers. And I have no doubt that they will thoroughly enjoy it! I love the idea of children being inspired to discover history for themselves thanks to the skills of such historians and writers as Lucy Worsley. This happened to me as a child and teenager with the marvellous Jean Plaidy, whose books I still cherish all these years on. I can see parallels between Jean Plaidy and Lucy Worsley and that makes me very happy indeed. I’ll be sure to read all of the novels that Lucy Worsley produces, even though I must accept that not all of them, or indeed any, were written with me in mind!

Other review
Eliza Rose