By Gill South
One of us
by Elizabeth Day (HarperCollins, $37.99)
Life has always gone swimmingly for Ben Fitzmaurice, an upper-class Tory prime minister wannabe, but just as he seems to be nearing his ultimate ambition, a number of problems start bubbling away that might rather get in the way.
The title alludes partly to Ben’s childhood friend Martin, who Ben cast aside years ago, leaving him heartbroken and bitter. Ben preferred the company of the confident friend and banker Jarvis, an animal of a man who has the money to support Ben’s political career.
When we meet him, Martin is a lacklustre university lecturer who can’t help but come running when Ben’s wife, Serena, invites him to the funeral of Ben’s sister, Fliss. But the old wounds are still there and Martin knows where Ben’s skeletons are buried, so Ben really should be taking more care.
The Fitzmaurices are a part of the British establishment, where you’re either up to it or collateral damage. Fliss Fitzmaurice, whose funeral our main characters all attend, was the black sheep of the family, beloved but not robust enough to take the hard rules of her family, spiralling into drugs, alcohol and homelessness. Her cause of death is covered up, although not everyone agrees with this.
Ben and Serena’s oldest daughter, the rebellious teen Cosima, a lipstick Marxist who campaigns in secret against fossil fuels and is her father’s harshest critic, could pose a problem for Ben, who’s biding his time as Energy Secretary.
Serena, meanwhile, is having a difficult time getting used to her menopausal body, and when an affair becomes possible, she thinks: why not?
The reader may wonder why Richard Take, a hapless, disgraced middle-class politician who gets caught watching porn at his parliamentary office one night, is part of the cast of characters. But after sucking up the disgrace, doing some humbling reality TV, he is likely to become useful to Ben later on.
This is a delicious political dramedy with very well-drawn characters, which sets events up on an inevitable collision course. It’s a critical and entertaining examination of class, politics, bullying, negative attitudes towards women of all ages, and a cynical view of the media. It is reminiscent of a Jonathan Coe novel, the British novelist who excels at exposing Tory power-grabbers at their worst. But Day makes the genre very much her own, her female characters being sympathetically drawn, creating a novel with great heart.
The Naked Light
by Bridget Collins (HarperCollins, $36.99)
The Sussex town of Haltington circa 1918 is one that is dominated by women. The town has a chalk face carved into its hillside, The Haltington Face, which is said to have protected locals from malevolent spirits for centuries. The face keeps the “thurlaths” – wraiths searching for a way to become like humans – under control and the power that animates these spirits is misery, desire or grief. The Face must be maintained at all times, and when the caretaker, a local old woman, dies, locals become concerned.
The story is told to artist Kit, who comes to town and lives in the old caretaker’s cottage. She is recovering from the trauma of making masks for injured World War I soldiers who have been disfigured by war and wants to return to her art. Kit intrigues the local girls and women in the village with her mannish clothes and independent style of living.
Meanwhile, a class of teen girls are told that only one in 10 of their generation will marry, thanks to the war. Florence lives with her late sister’s husband, the local vicar, and her niece, the tricky and precocious Phoebe, trying to be useful. She is sad she may not have a child with so few healthy men around, but her thoughts are soon caught up with Kit. Phoebe also wants Kit’s attention and is one of the most wedded to the Haltington Face and its need for caretaking.
Throughout the novel, tales of damaged men from the war drift in and out – unsupported by the government, they wreak havoc in the community. At the same time, there is a sense of foreboding about what is coming to this village.
Collins mixes a heady cocktail of fact and fiction in this tale, one best suited to those with strong nerves. Readers who can suspend their disbelief will find this an immersive, intoxicating tale.
A Great Act of Love
by Heather Rose (Allen & Unwin, $37.99)
Australian author Rose drew from several true stories to create this novel of historical fiction. One of the main characters is Captain Swanston, a well-known Melburnian, whom our main protagonist, Caroline Douglas, depends on to buy a home through and then to revive a champagne vineyard when she first comes to Van Diemen’s Land (Tasmania) in the late 1830s.
An intriguing young woman, Caroline has been through enormous trauma. Her beloved father, a French-born winemaker turned pharmacist in London, murdered a woman while in a bad mental state, and has been sent to one of the toughest colony prisons on Norfolk Island.
Caroline, who had been working with her resourceful aunt in London to steal small trinkets from the wealthy, leaves England with a tidy sum, arriving in Van Diemen’s Land as a young woman of means with a fake tragic-widow story. She makes two key friendships in Hobart – a former slave, Cornelius, who has a wide range of skills and knowledge of the champagne vineyard, and Captain Swanston’s wife, Georgiana.
But never does Caroline stop worrying and thinking about her father, who is, relatively speaking, not that far away. They have no way of contacting each other, and she can’t reveal their connection, but with patience their paths do cross again.
Little by little, Caroline has everything a young woman deserves – a business, close friendships and the prospect of love – but the author makes it clear these things can disappear in an instant in this harsh world.
This is a very entertaining read, with a fascinating heroine and story, and delivering intriguing insight into Tasmania in the early days of its colonial history.
