Mourning Ruby – Helen Dunmore

It’s a bit of a jigsaw of a novel, centred on Rebecca, who generally narrates but not strictly chronologically, some key episodes in her life so far (she is about forty?)

To begin with: a baby in a shoebox, she is left outside the kitchen of an Italian restaurant to be adopted and brought up in full knowledge of her abandoned status. Later, a young adult, she shares a flat with Joe with whom she forms a strong but platonic bond. He introduces her to Adam, a doctor, who she marries and with whom she has a baby girl, Ruby. No spoiler, Ruby dies young; Rebecca struggles to cope.

While that is going on, Joe is writing a masterpiece about Stalin, or more accurately his wife, and relates much of it to Rebecca. Later, Joe moves on to writing a novel set in the first world war, in which the lead characters (William and Florence) seem to mirror him and Rebecca. Joe sends Rebecca chunks of manuscript, reproduced at length.

Somewhere in between is the life story of Rebecca’s employer, Mr Damiano, hotel proprietor and one time circus performer and creator of a ‘Dreamworld’ attraction.

Confusing? Not really. Each segment makes for pleasant enough reading, but with only Rebecca linking it all, there is no real cohesion. It might even have worked better as four short stories. I struggled to see how Rebecca’s life was impacted in any way by Stalin’s wife, Mr Damiano’s circus, or Joe’s unfinished war novel.

But maybe I missed something?

Lucy by the Sea – Elizabeth Strout

In this novel Elizabeth Strout returns to one of her oft-visited characters, Lucy Barton, and follows her through the Covid19 pandemic.

At the outbreak, or just before, she is living alone in her New York City apartment – alone as her second husband, David, has not long since died. She remains on friendly terms with her first husband, William, and it is he, a scientist, who alerts her to the imminent danger and by force of personality whisks her off to a coastal property that he has rented in Maine.

Over the course of the pandemic, with its isolating and disinfecting protocols, social distancing, and paranoia (justifiable as friends and acquaintances succumb to the virus), her relationship with William and daughters Chrissy and Becka change. While contact with William is necessarily close, her previous close contact with the girls now becomes unavoidably remote. We see through her eyes, and her anxieties, changes for William (who discovers a half-sister) and the girls (whose domestic relationships are put under pressure).

Lucy narrates throughout, in a somewhat quirky style, more conversational than written, that treats the reader as a close confident. It engenders a genuine buy-in to the outcomes. The setting of coastal Maine is vivid, and the pandemic context is now a quaint but potent reminder of those strange times.

Pre-knowledge (I had none) of the earlier Lucy Barton novels does not hinder enjoyment. The occasional references back are slotted in seamlessly with scant but sufficient detail that, if anything, entices the reader to go back for more. Which I will do, having thoroughly enjoyed this one.

Small Pleasures – Clare Chambers

It is June 1957 and for Jean Swinney, features editor, columnist, and general dogsbody at a provincial newspaper, it seems a day like any other. However, a letter from a reader will lead to far reaching consequences.

The letter refers to a mention in the paper of a scientific study of parthenogenesis (the ability of females to reproduce without the involvement of a male) in some lower order animals. The correspondent, Gretchen Tilbury, claims it happened to her some ten years ago. Jean is despatched to investigate the potential ‘virgin birth’ story.

Naturally and professionally sceptical, Jean nevertheless is drawn to Gretchen and her family: daughter Margaret who is the spit of her mother; and husband Howard, an older man who met and took on the single mother soon after the birth. The family are delightful and accommodate Jean’s attention, which gives her a welcome respite from her spinsterish home life restricted by the needs of her infirm and determinedly dependent mother.

The narrative unfolds unhurriedly as Jean investigates the claim, becomes increasingly embraced by the Tilburys, and struggles with her mother’s demands. Though easy paced, it is always engrossing due to the punchy writing style (from Jean’s point of view throughout) and authentic period detail.

Slowly, cracks appear in the smooth running, ordinary lives of Jean’s and the Tilburys. Things happen, pasts emerge, characters fill out, and tension grows to a fine climax.

This is an excellent novel, refreshingly free from graphic crime and violence, yet full of jeopardy, mystery, moral dilemma, and pitch perfect prose. A delight.