There are numerous novels that have attempted to make sense of the experience of World War I, but only a rare few have succeeded. This one delves into both the War but also its aftermath in France as reconstruction and recovery clashes with bitter memory and grief.

Harry is an ex-soldier and photographer hired to take photos in the war cemeteries for English families who want some tangible image of their dead loved one - a grave-marker or scene associated with their war service. His sister-in-law, Edie, has received in the mail a photograph of her missing husband, Francis, without any explanation. She becomes convinced he must still be alive. Individually, Harry and Edie travel through the destroyed landscape and cemeteries in the hope they will find evidence of Francis. In the process, they meet others on similar quests as they struggle to resolve questions about the War and their own relationship issues. 

There are aspects of this novel that are beautifully written, intensely moving and resonate accurately the enormous loss and heartache suffered, that show the devastated landscape and the shocking effects of what would now be described as untreated PTSD. Some of the best passages contain the succinct black humour of men marching towards certain death. 

Yet at the same time the novel is irksome with repetitive thought processes and over-indulgent contemplation on the self that reflects 21st Century attitudes rather than those of the stoic early 20th Century. Also, the increasingly annoying fad in current literature for a disruptive time-line and switches in tenses just ends up an unnecessary distraction.

Initially captured by the premise of this novel – how people handle the aftermath of war - I had hoped to love it but I’m afraid it disappointed me, due in no small part to its wavering construction.  

(*  The book was published as “The Poppy Wife” in America. I have no idea why, as this is primarily Harry’s story and the original British title and cover have a poetic quality that conveys the symbolism so much better.)


Three stars


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Claude Fontaine, a Monaco lawyer, has only just taken over the family firm when the menacing and ruthless Farrelly twins of Belfast, Nessa and Niall, turn up. Apparently, they were in cahoots with Claude’s late father in secret criminal activities that Claude knows nothing about and these involve a hidden art collection that is worth millions.

JJ is an art conservator with the New South Wales Art Gallery and a keen amateur photographer. While house-sitting for her boss in Sydney, she happens to see into another apartment which has intriguing paintings on the walls that could be forgeries or reproductions of old masters. JJ takes photographs of them but then is surprised when the next time she looks they have been replaced by nondescript cheap paintings. She deliberately makes friends with the mysterious woman who lives there, Lesley Monroe, in the hope of finding out more. This is the beginning of a roller-coaster of events that will ultimately put JJ’s life on the line.

JJ is an appealing character; a little gauche and introverted but with a wry sense of humour. She’s found it difficult to recover from a traumatic childhood at the hands of her controlling policeman father Hugh who is convinced he is descended from Vincent van Gogh.

The artworks play a leading role and include real pictures stolen (and still missing) from a Boston Gallery in 1990 and one of Van Gogh’s paintings of sunflowers, reputedly lost in Japan in World War II.

The narrative moves rapidly towards a thrilling climax, but unless you are seriously into the science and methods of verifying the provenance of art, the latter third of the book gets a bit too bogged down in those technicalities. The ending is a cliff-hanger, suggesting there could be a sequel.

Four Stars.
 
(You may want to check out the background to the real artworks after reading the book.)

Gardner Museum Theft

Lost Sunflowers

 
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​Point Piper sits on Sydney Harbour and is considered to be Australia’s most exclusive suburb. It is named after Captain John Piper, a Scots-born military officer who became a prominent public servant and landowner in New South Wales.

In 1805 while serving as Commandant of Norfolk Island and aged thirty-one he began an affair with bare-footed fourteen-year-old Mary Ann Sheers, the daughter of convicts. This is their story.

Creative non-fiction can be a difficult genre to read (and review). In this case, it will depend on the extent of the reader’s prior knowledge about the early days of Australia’s colonial history as to how one will come to appreciate this work that is literally jam-packed with everybody who was anybody in early 19th Century Sydney - the Macarthurs, Macquarie, William Bligh, the Wentworths, Redfern, Foveaux, Marsden, etc. - the list is endless. 

While the research is meticulous, in some ways it is so lavish and detailed that it overwhelms and is dangerously close to an “info dump”. It is occasionally broken up with fictional spoken narrative - some of it mundane or bafflingly inconsequential - as well as extracts from real letters and documents. There are also contemporary images, including portraits, paintings and sketches.

Basically, if one likes their books to share inner emotions or demonstrate actions in the narrative, i.e. the writerly rule of “show, don’t tell”, then this one fails as there is just way too much telling. On the other hand, if you want a chronological history lesson about these early Australian colonialists and are not bothered about digging deep into their characters or what made them tick, then it succeeds and it will make an excellent reference source.

Piper’s charm, affability and failings do find some expression, although as a younger man he also exhibited a typical Regency cad attitude, having several relationships with girls that today would be considered criminal due to their young age and with whom he fathered a number of illegitimate children. It was not unusual for the time and many of Australia's founding families have a similar background so this is an honest portrayal of  history. 

Yet somehow Piper formed a life-long bond with one of his teenaged conquests, Mary Ann, who had fourteen pregnancies with him through to her forties, most before they finally married. She buried a number of those children and lost many other individuals who were close to her. She may have come from humble convict beginnings and learned how to present herself and negotiate the challenges of society, eventually managing to keep Piper on the straight and narrow, but she remains placid and elusive and we never get a really solid grasp of how - or why - their marriage succeeded in spite of the odds.

  
Three stars
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​Pru(dence) is a woman on the cusp of her seventh decade and about to have her life fall apart. She has lived in comfortable upper-middle-class Muswell Hill in London with her husband Greg for more than forty years and raised her two children there. Her best friend is the outspoken Azra (not her real name) who hails from Sunderland but has reinvented herself as a radical and unconventional hippy type. Greg appears to dislike Azra and she seems likewise intolerant of his conservative dullness. The truth is quite different when Pru discovers they’ve been having an affair for five years and they move to Dorset together.

Pru is left alone in her large home feeling betrayed, furious and sorry for herself. Wearing a black dress she found in a charity shop in Deal, she goes to a funeral of a friend in Golders Green only to discover she’s made a mistake in the time and is at the wrong service. Pru bemoans her aloneness and desperately wants a man in her life and this sets up a pattern where she goes to funerals of people she doesn't know but looking for suitable widowers. Her first target is Evan, a vet, but her plans are stymied.

If only the book had stayed on this black comedic course, had more subtlety and kept up its wry observations, but it went off on ridiculous tangents including excessive swearing and overly-detailed passionate encounters that no average arthritic seventy-something would have the energy for.  My initial chuckles from the first few chapters waned as Pru became increasingly annoying with her self-absorbed whining. A further adventure involving an Australian helicopter pilot mourning his deceased model wife misfired abysmally. Apart from Pam, a nosey-parker neighbour with a kind heart, none of these characters have any attractive human qualities.  No wonder Pru’s children moved away to foreign countries.

It was all I could do to get to through to the end, if only to see what eventuated. There are the usual twists, a far-fetched renewed relationship and even the Covid lockdown, but it’s all a waste of time. The only creature I felt any emotion for by the end was the incontinent cat.

This is the first novel I’ve read by the author who created the famous Exotic Marigold Hotel and it was a huge disappointment. It is hoped some of her other books are better than this but not sure I'll be tempted.
 
One star.
 
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