The House on the Strand by Daphne du Maurier | Book Review

The House on the Strand by Daphne du Maurier
Published by Virago, 2003 (first published in 1969)
My rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

It’s such a nice feeling to return to a favourite author after a while, and to instantly be reminded why you fell in love with their work in the first place. From the very first paragraph of this book, I was transported once again by du Maurier’s lush, descriptive prose. It captures such a wonderful sense of time, place, and atmosphere, and is just a delight to read.

Initially, the story feels like a radical departure for du Maurier, given that this is ostensibly a book about time travel. And whilst it does stand out as unique amongst her work for that reason, rest assured that the hallmarks of her style (grand settings, gothic undertones, interesting characters, a touch of the sinister, and an air of mystery) are all still present. It’s also worth pointing out that her take on the time travel trope is fascinating and wholly unique in its own right.

Magnus Lane is a chemical researcher. On the quiet, he has been experimenting with a strange potion that seems to send the drinker’s mind back to the 14^th century. Able to act only as a silent observer, however, the person’s body is left behind, the two moving in tandem across the span of time. It seems Lane has cracked the secret to moving between parallel timelines. And so, he enlists his long-time friend, Richard, to serve as a guinea pig. But as Richard gets increasingly involved in the lives of those he observes in the past, and addicted to the high of the potion itself, the line between the two times begins to blur, leading to potentially devastating consequences.

The thing I enjoyed most about this was how successfully it draws parallels with the struggles of addiction. Richard becomes more and more dependant on the potion, despite the obvious danger involved, and the increasingly debilitating physical and mental side effects. With each exposure, the dose required is higher, and though he promises each time will be his last, he is repeatedly drawn back in, no matter the trouble it causes him or those around him. This was cleverly done, and very effective.

There is also some commentary on the risks of trying to live a double life. Unhappy in his marriage, the trips into the past serve as a form of escape for Richard, who becomes emotionally attached to the people he observes, particularly the beautiful Isolda. The more he is drawn into the high-stakes drama of the 14^th century, however, the duller his own life seems. His wife, Vita, suspects these absences are a sign of infidelity. With Richard finding it increasingly difficult to keep the two halves of his existence apart, the pressure begins to take its toll on both his body and mind.

I will say, since Richard is unable to directly interact with those in the past, there is an inherent sense of detachment where those characters are concerned. As such, it did take me a while to get to grips with who everyone was, and to feel any kind of investment in them. Though these sections are evocative, I was always far more interested in Richard’s struggles, and his attempts to deal with the fallout of the experiments back in the present day.

That said, the book was still a damn good romp throughout, with some skilfully implemented allegory. I mustn’t leave it so long until I pick up another du Maurier.

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You can pick up a copy of The House on the Strand from Book Depository by clicking here. If you’ve already read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts!

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House of Glass by Susan Fletcher | Book Review

House of Glass by Susan Fletcher
Published by Virago, 2018
My rating: ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

House of Glass is at once an enthralling gothic mystery, and a poignant piece of historical fiction that examines the devastating ways in which women’s lives were ruled by scandal, rumour, and reputation. In this respect, and many others, it is a book of opposites; of truth versus lies, logic versus faith, and reality versus the supernatural.

The story follows Clara, a young woman who spent her childhood confined to the safety of home. Suffering from a rare brittle bone condition, she is at constant threat of injury. Grieving the loss of her feminist mother, however, she jumps at the chance to finally fly the nest. Passionate about botany, she receives an invitation to establish a new glasshouse at Shadowbrook, a remote country manor. When she arrives, she is greeted by an owner conspicuous by absence, and residents terrified of a supposed haunting. Clara soon sets her practical mind to solving the mysteries of Shadowbrook.

Clara herself is a fabulous heroine. Her sheltered childhood spent in solitude, during which time she relied on the company of books, has instilled in her a voracious thirst for knowledge about people, and the world around her. This, coupled with her lack of social training, and her stubborn resilience against those who would dismiss her based on gender or disability, makes her forthright, headstrong, and proactive. If some gothic heroines flounder in the face of uncertainty, Clara moves straight for the truth, asking all the questions on the tip of the reader’s tongue.

The first half of the novel is pretty much everything I look for in an ideal read. It has a rich, vivid setting, complete with all the gothic hallmarks. The dark, brooding air of mystery swells, as do the number of delightfully ghostly and atmospheric moments. The cast of supporting characters are well established, and equally intriguing in their own ways. The looming threat of WWI in the background helps to reflect the mounting tension, and to firmly establish the story’s historical context. Fletcher’s writing itself is evocative and transporting, without ever feeling convoluted.

In the second half, the dynamic shifts somewhat, but I was no less compelled. As Clara makes discoveries about Shadowbrook’s past, and the past of those who once called it home, Fletcher begins to weave together a wonderfully intricate tapestry of secrets and lies, with everything gradually falling into place in a satisfying though devastating way. At large, this is a book about lives ruled and destroyed by the toxicity of hearsay, and the manipulative power that men held over women.

For the last 50 pages or so, there is a further shift in tone and focus that I can imagine will put it at odds with the rest of the story for some people. However, this section was still beautiful in its own way, helping to capture a very specific moment in time, when society was in a state of flux. If the coming of war interrupts the flow and significance of prior events in the novel, this is hugely reflective of the effect war has in real life, throwing a new perspective on everything. With WWI proving the catalyst for much change, particularly the role and reputation of women, it also brings an opportunity for Shadowbrook’s legacy to be rewritten, thus making complete narrative sense. Plus, by this point, I was so invested in the characters and the setting that I was just glad to be spending a little more time with them.

After all, there’s a lot to be said for picking up the right book at the right time, and the joy of a great reading experience. House of Glass was exactly what I needed right now. It completely swept me up, and I loved every moment I spent in the grips of its pages.

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You can pick up a copy of House of Glass for yourself by clicking here. If you’ve already read it, I’d love to hear your thoughts!