The Regency Romance genre often has a reputation for being too saturated with the same old tropes. While this might be true, sometimes I do just find myself craving a Regency Romance with all the standard trappings: the London Season, promenades in Hyde Park, adventurous evenings at Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens, and the feeling that you might only be a chapter away from a thrilling duel scene.
When I last found myself in such a mood, I thought An Unsuitable Heiress by Jane Dunn might fit the bill – and I can confirm that it definitely gave me everything I was looking for. We’ve got a plucky heroine in Corinna Ormesby, a country girl determined to escape marriage to a man she doesn’t love by venturing to London in search of the father she’s never met. The story really gets going once Corinna’s journey is underway, where she meets a group of three eligible young bachelors who take her under their wing – the catch being that they mistake her for a young bachelor herself, given that she’s disguised as a man.
The humorous hijinks, cast of well-meaning friends, and frequent misunderstandings as Corinna attempts to navigate London life couldn’t help but remind me of Friday’s Child by Georgette Heyer, which is my absolute favourite Heyer novel that I’ve read to date. The comparison to Heyer does feel deserved here, because Jane Dunn is a historian, so there’s an absolute wealth of historical detail here that should please anyone who’s nitpicky about historical accuracy in their Regency Romances (I definitely count myself among you). It also feels very grounded in its London setting, with lots of real life locations namedropped – so it would definitely be a fun one to read during a visit to the city.
The main romance is quite a slow burn – but I personally found it worth the wait, because I really enjoyed seeing Corinna and her eventual love interest get to know each other in the midst of all the chaos going on around them. Also in a Heyer-esque fashion, there are some side character romances going on at the same time, so there’s always plenty to keep the reader’s interest.
If you’re in the mood for a charming Regency Romance rich with historical detail and all the best tropes of the genre, I thoroughly recommend An Unsuitable Heiress. I’ll definitely be picking up another one of Jane Dunn’s books the next time I get a Regency Romance craving.
I want to open this review by saying that Briefly, A Delicious Life is definitely a book for a certain type of reader. A type of reader, I’d say, who loves character-driven novels, beautiful writing, and a central focus on classical music.
For me, it was the perfect combination of all these things. But the particular highlight had to be the protagonist: the ghost of a fourteen year old girl called Blanca who died at a monastery in Mallorca in 1473 and has been haunting it for the following few centuries. The story begins when Blanca’s lonely haunting is disrupted by the arrival of the composer Frederic Chopin, his lover George Sands, and George’s two children at the monastery in an attempt to improve Chopin’s fragile health.
Blanca quickly becomes obsessed with the family – in particular George Sands, a writer trying to make a name for herself, and trying to live as her true self without being forced to adhere to gender norms. The unconventional arrivals cause quite a stir amongst the deeply religious village folk – and we’re treated to Blanca’s fretful internal monologue as she watches the villagers’ increasing disapproval at the family’s lifestyle, which Blanca herself, being a ghost, is unable to prevent.
There isn’t much plot beyond that, to be honest: mostly Blanca drifting around judging and fretting and tenderly falling in love with George. We also get snippets from Blanca’s past – and quite honestly, I couldn’t get enough of her. Nell Stevens perfectly captured a combination of indignant self-righteousness, impulsiveness, and world-weariness that seems so fitting for a character who is stuck permanently in the mind and body of a fourteen year old, but has also experienced hundreds of years on Earth. Blanca’s voice sparkled on the page, and it was a pleasure to spend a few hours in her head.
The other aspect absolutely needing a mention is the writing about classical music. The story covers the composition of Chopin’s preludes – and as someone who’s familiar with some of them, the descriptive passages of their composition were heavenly. I won’t go into further detail for fear of spoilers, because it’s best experienced for yourself – but I’ll just say that any fans of classical music will be sure to enjoy the love and care with which Nell Stevens writes about it.
On the whole, Briefly, A Delicious Life was an unusual book that gave me a very satisfying reading experience. Sometimes you just need an escape from reality – and what better way than spending a few hours drifting around a Mallorcan monastery in the head of a sassy, 400 year old teenage ghost?
When watching Downton Abbey, did you ever secretly wish that most of the servant characters didn’t treat the Crawley family with such blind reverence? Did you ever wonder what O’Brien could have achieved if she’d spent less time moaning with Thomas and more time inspiring the housemaids into a servants’ uprising? If so, The Housekeepers is definitely the book for you.
A witty, biting historical heist novel, The Housekeepers centres around a grand ball at a grand house in Edwardian London, and the even grander revenge plan concocted by a disgruntled former servant. This premise alone was enough to grab my attention – but there’s definitely more to this story than I assumed at first glance. Prepare to have little idea of what’s going on at first – but don’t worry, because Alex Hay masterfully unveils the layers of this story in a way that compels you to keep turning the pages.
I’m not normally one to pay particular attention to writing style, but Alex Hay’s voice is absolutely one of my favourite aspects of the novel. With a cutting directness that matches his characters, Hay conjures up vivid descriptions of his setting with a few choice words. I found myself completely immersed in the moment, be that a dramatic action scene or a tension-filled conversation between two characters.
And the characters – well, they’re just great. Seven complicated, conniving women, each with their own motivations for taking part in the heist. It makes such a refreshing change to read a historical novel about a group of women with desires that aren’t entirely focused on marriage (or avoiding marriage), and I loved getting to know each of them as they worked together to prepare for the heist.
Although there are definitely some darker moments in this book, I’d say the overall tone is humorous and fun. It’s definitely a story where it helps to suspend disbelief slightly – but I was more than happy to allow myself to get swept along for the ride. Overall, The Housekeepers was a very satisfying read, and I’m looking forward to reading more from Alex Hay.
Top tip for UK readers: The Housekeepers is the Waterstones Thriller of the month for May 2024. When you buy any current Waterstones book of the month in store, you get a free hot drink from the café.
Following my 2023 reading statistics post, I’m back with part two of my 2023 wrap-up content – which means it’s time to gush about all the best books I read in the past year.
Narrowing down a top 10 is a tricky enough task, never mind trying to rank the 10 books in question – so as always, I’m just listing them in chronological order of when I read them.
Miss Austen by Gill Hornby
This is a novel for all Jane Austen fans who have ever wondered why Cassandra Austen burned most of her sister’s correspondence.
Gill Hornby’s proposed answer may only be fiction – but it made for a very satisfying read. I loved Hornby’s portrayal of Cassandra, and felt that she also captured Jane Austen’s spirit as she recreated imaginary versions of some of the destroyed letters.
Even if you’re not a huge Austen fan, there’s lots of interesting commentary about women’s struggles in early 19th century England.
Ayesha at Last is, in my opinion, everything that makes a great contemporary Jane Austen retelling. All the key Pride and Prejudice plot points are recognisable, but it’s strong enough in its own merit that I think it could be enjoyed by someone who’s never read Pride and Prejudice.
It was so great to read a Jane Austen retelling featuring an almost entire cast of Muslim characters. I loved Jalaluddin’s writing so much that I read all three of her published works in 2023 (the most recent of which is a Persuasion retelling).
Beautiful World, Where Are You by Sally Rooney
Sally Rooney’s writing just has a way of getting to me. After adoring Normal People in 2019, I was slightly scared to read her latest release – but I should never have doubted, because I adored this book too.
If you want to have an existential crisis about the state of the world then somehow have your heart stitched back together again within the span of a few hundred pages, then this is the book for you.
Oh, also you’ve got to be okay with really unlikable characters. Like, really unlikable.
The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro
Read this book, and you will never be able to see Carson in Downton Abbey the same way again.
In all seriousness, this is a beautiful, subtle and lyrical meditation on class, loyalty and life choices. There really is very limited plot here – this book is all about the main character Stevens, the aging butler of Darlington Hall, who was so vividly portrayed that I felt as if I personally knew him by the end of the novel.
Apparently I was in a bit of an existential crisis era around this point in the year – because The Remains of the Day will definitely give you one too.
The Other Bennet Sister by Janice Hadlow
This doorstop of a novel is devoted entirely to the life of Mary Bennet – you know, the dull, prosy Bennet sister who pops up every so often in Pride and Prejudice to echo Fordyce’s Sermons.
Who would want to read that?! Well, me, apparently – with some trepidation. But oh boy, this book! Mary is still recognisable as the character we all love to hate – but thanks to Hadlow’s magic, by the end of the book I had come to care deeply for Mary, and was rooting wholeheartedly for her happiness.
Read my full review of The Other Bennet Sisterhere.
Half a Soul by Olivia Atwater
This book had me at the tagline A Regency Faerie Tale. Grumpy magicians and faerie curses crossed with a Regency-inspired setting is, in my opinion, a match made in heaven.
Throw in great characters, humorous writing and a swoony romance, and you have pretty much all of my top ingredients for a great read.
If you’re looking for a light-hearted fantasy read with some 19th century ballroom drama thrown in for good measure, then I can wholeheartedly recommend Half a Soul.
Virtual Strangers by Sam Canning
I tend to find these days that a lot of books marketed as fluffy rom-coms end up being pretty heavy – but to my delight, Virtual Strangers contained plenty of both rom and com.
It features a You’ve Got Mail-type scenario (which is apparently a trope I love despite never having seen that film), focusing on a hotdesking situation at a café in Edinburgh. I’ve never visited Edinburgh, but all the descriptions made me want to visit – and the writing felt comfortingly British in the best way (think GBBO, but without the baking).
The Whalebone Theatre by Joanna Quinn
The Whalebone Theatre is the epitome of an English country house novel, in that the house itself is definitely a main character.
Joanna Quinn’s debut is an interesting mix of family saga, adventure novel and lyrical WWII drama, which is a combination that really worked for me.
I loved getting to know the three Seagrave siblings as they came of age in their crumbling Dorset manor, and I was sad to leave them behind after turning the final page.
I finally got around to reading the Six of Crows duology in 2023, after years of putting it off for fear it wouldn’t live up to the frankly insane hype.
In conclusion, the hype was fully justified. I don’t know how Leigh Bardugo did it, but over the course of the two books these lovable, messy characters wormed their way right into my heart.
I did enjoy the first book, but the tension really cranked up a notch in this final instalment, and I was on the edge of my seat the entire time.
Madensky Square by Eva Ibbotson
Madensky Square is an epistolary novel in diary format, following a year in 36-year-old dressmaker Susanna Weber’s life in Vienna.
It might be a case of ‘right book, right time’, as I read it whilst on holiday in Vienna, but I think this might actually be my favourite of all Ibbotson’s historical novels.
This is a quiet, slice-of-life novel that oozes charm and elegance in Ibbotson’s trademark fashion – but it also had more depth and complexity than her historical romances, which I definitely appreciated.
We’re almost at the end of another year – and I don’t know about you, but one of my favourite things about the end of the year is reading and watching bookish creators’ end-of-year reading statistics!
I used to track my reading on Goodreads, but for the past few years I’ve been using an Excel spreadsheet, because I’m a big old nerd. At the end of each year I create some charts for stats like my genre and format breakdown, which I normally do just for myself – but as it’s my first year back on the blog after my break, I thought this year it would be fun to create an infographic and share the stats with you.
So without further ado, here are my reading statistics for 2023!
Thank you to everyone who has visited Sepia Tinted Window this year. I appreciate you stopping by my little corner of the internet, and I’m looking forward to 2024 on the blog. I’ll be kicking off with my top 10 books of 2023 post, so look out for that soon!
When I first heard about a Pride and Prejudice retelling placing the least-liked Bennet sister at its centre, I was sceptical. When I realised that Janice Hadlow had devoted almost 700 whole pages to Mary Bennet, continuing beyond the events of Pride and Prejudice to give her a romance of her own, I was certain I’d be bored to tears.
Then I saw all the glowing reviews from readers who found themselves emotionally moved by Mary’s story, fully investing themselves in Hadlow’s efforts to let her character shine. I decided that Hadlow must have strayed from Austen’s characterisation – because I simply couldn’t believe that there was enough depth to the dull, preachy Mary of Pride and Prejudice to keep me gripped for over 600 pages.
Having found myself devouring several other Austen retellings this year, however, I finally ended up giving The Other Bennet Sister a try – and how very glad I am that I did!
I understand now why Mary’s story is so lengthy. Hadlow knew what she was doing. She looked deep into the psyche of Austen’s Mary, asking pointed questions about how and why she grew into the stuffy young woman we see in Pride and Prejudice. She offered a plausible internal monologue for Mary to accompany the events of Pride and Prejudice, rounding out the character in a way which (in my opinion) stayed true to Austen’s version.
By the end of the Pride and Prejudice retelling portion, I felt I understood Mary a little better, but I still didn’t like her. Yet by the end of The Other Bennet Sister, I found that I had come to care deeply for this character. The transformation was subtle and gradual – and, I think, only possible because Hadlow really gave time for Mary’s character to develop and blossom in a way that felt natural.
I personally found Mary’s story gripping in its own rights – but for Austen devotees, there is plenty to enjoy in the way of frequent nods to her novels. I read somewhere that Hadlow reread all six of Austen’s novels before writing The Other Bennet Sister, and the result is a story that will feel simultaneously fresh and familiar to Austen fans.
All in all, I think The Other Bennet Sister is a wonderful tribute to perhaps one of the most overlooked characters in Austen’s novels. I can only hope that Hadlow decides to write another novel – and if it’s another Jane Austen retelling, all the better, because it seems I just can’t get enough of them right now.
The release of the All the Light We Cannot See miniseries on Netflix earlier this week has inevitably got everyone talking about Anthony Doerr’s bestselling 2015 book again. It may have been six years since I read it, but it’s definitely a book that left a lasting impression on me – and while I haven’t watched the miniseries yet, I can well remember the giant reading slump I was left in once I came to the end of the book.
To help anyone who’s facing a similar slump (either from reading the book or watching the miniseries), I’ve compiled a list of recommended reads that I think are in some way similar to All the Light We Cannot See. I’ve got a mix of settings and themes, so hopefully there’ll be something that takes your fancy.
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
Title: The Book Thief
Author: Markus Zusak
Published: 1st March 2005
Pages: 499
Setting: WWII Germany
Alright, let’s begin with the most obvious recommendation. If you enjoyed All the Light We Cannot See but somehow haven’t yet encountered The Book Thief, you should definitely give it a try. Both books have children as the main protagonists, and both deal with their subject matter in a very human way.
This book is set in Nazi Germany rather than in France, but as with All the Light We Cannot See, it covers themes of propaganda as young Liesel discovers the power of the written word. The fact that it’s narrated by Death adds a poignant, haunting quality to the story, which I think is also present in Doerr’s writing.
People Like Us by Louise Fein
Title: People Like Us
Author: Louise Fein
Published: 7th May 2020
Pages: 496
Setting: 1930s Leipzig
Next up is another recommendation set in Germany – this time 1930s Leipzig, which Louise Fein describes beautifully. Similarly to All the Light We Cannot See, the two protagonists of People Like Us find themselves on opposite sides of the growing conflict as Hitler comes to power.
Hetty Heinrich, an SS officer’s daughter, is determined to be a model Bund Deutscher Mädel (League of German Girls) member – but her loyalties are called into question as she witnesses former family friend Walter’s ostracization from society due to his Jewish heritage.
I recommend this for people who were particularly moved by Werner’s experience of Nazi indoctrination in All the Light We Cannot See.
The Whalebone Theatre by Joanna Quinn
Title: The Whalebone Theatre
Author: Joanna Quinn
Published: 9th June 2022
Pages: 560
Setting: 1919-1945 England
This is a recommendation for the people who enjoyed All the Light We Cannot See for its short chapters and lyrical writing style – because The Whalebone Theatre has both. It’s also a sweeping epic, covering the childhoods of its protagonists up to their coming of age during WWII.
If you loved the courage and resourcefulness of Marie-Laure, then I think you will really root for Cristabel Seagrave, the main character of The Whalebone Theatre. In both books plenty of time is taken to flesh out the characters and make you care deeply for them – yet thanks to the short chapters, it’s easy to find yourself tearing through the pages as the plot unfolds.
My full review of The Whalebone Theatre can be found here.
The Other Einstein by Marie Benedict
Title: The Other Einstein
Author: Marie Benedict
Published: 18th October 2016
Pages: 304
Setting: Early 20th century Switzerland
If you enjoyed reading about the scientific and technical elements of Werner’s studies in All the Light We Cannot See, I recommend giving The Other Einstein a try. Here we follow Mileva Marić, the gifted Serbian physicist and mathematician who married Albert Einstein in 1903.
As a physicist, I really appreciated the wealth of research Marie Benedict carried out in order to tell the story of Mileva’s education at Zurich Polytechnic at the turn of the 20th century. For those who enjoy reading about the history of science (and particularly women in STEM), this is a fascinating read.
The Cut Out Girl by Bart van Es
Title: The Cut Out Girl
Author: Bart van Es
Published: 15th July 2018
Pages: 288
Setting: WWII Netherlands
Marie-Laure and Werner may not be real people – but there are plenty of true stories from WWII that are just as gripping and heartbreaking as any fictional tale. For my final pick, I wanted to go with a bit of a wildcard and recommend the biography The Cut Out Girl.
Similarly to All the Light We Cannot See, in The Cut Out Girl we have a growing connection between two people based in different physical locations. In this case it’s the author and his estranged relative Lien – who, as Bart van Es discovers, became the foster daughter of his grandparents when she was given up by her birth family to escape the Nazis’ persecution of Jews in Amsterdam.
While the main portion of the book covers Lien’s enthralling and often harrowing wartime experiences, I was equally interested to read about the developing friendship between van Es and Lien as she gradually shared her story.
Hopefully you’ve found something here to fill the All the Light We Cannot See-shaped hole in your life! Let me know if you’ve read any of these books, and feel free to add a comment with your own recommendations.
Title: The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels (Dangerous Damsels #1)
Author: India Holton
Published: 15th June 2021
Pages: 324
Setting: Fantastical version of Victorian Britain
How does the phrase ‘Terry Pratchett crossed with Bridgerton’ sound to you?
If reading that makes you shudder, you might want to give this post a miss. Because if you’re to have any chance of enjoying the crazy reading experience that is The Wisteria Society of Lady Scoundrels, you must be prepared for nothing short of utterly bonkers.
I’m talking Victorian lady pirates. A genteel society of lady pirates, who spend a solid morning flying their mansions around to steal and fight, before sitting down to an afternoon of tea and gossip.
There’s also a villainous poet with a Branwell Brontë obsession, plenty of assassination attempts, and a starring role for Queen Victoria herself (who is portrayed hilariously, I must say). Getting the gist yet?
In all seriousness, though, this book is bonkers in the best way. It’s the perfect blend of Terry Pratchett’s absurdist humour and all the typical 19th century courtship elements you’d expect from a good historical romance novel. Yes, you will probably find yourself swooning, gasping and giggling in such rapid succession that you end up with whiplash – but if you’re looking for engrossing escapism, this is definitely it.
So what is the actual plot of this book?
Well, we’re essentially following one Miss Cecilia Bassingwaite’s journey towards acceptance as a full member of the Wisteria society. Raised by her formidable Aunt Darlington, a prominent member of the society, Cecilia has constantly struggled to prove herself as a pirate worthy of membership. When Cecilia becomes the target of an assassination attempt, then, it seems like the perfect opportunity to show her mettle – but this particular assassination attempt isn’t as simple as it might first seem.
One such complication is the would-be assassin: one handsome, roguish Ned Lightbourne, whose distinctly non-murderous feelings towards Cecilia quickly pose a challenge to the success of his mission. Another complication lies in the form of Ned’s employer Captain Morvath, a dangerous man from Cecilia’s past with the power to single-handedly thwart any hope of Cecilia’s acceptance into the Wisteria society.
I won’t say too much more, as I think this is a book it’s best to go into without knowing too much beforehand. What I will say, though, is that listening to the audiobook was a delightful experience. It’s read by Elizabeth Knowelden, whose tongue-in-cheek tone and comic timing really helped bring this magical world to life. If you’re a fan of audiobooks, I can definitely recommend listening to this one.
So there we have it. Gentlewomen pirates with flying houses in a Victorian Britain-inspired setting. Bonkers both in premise and execution. And yet somehow, for me, it worked.
It’s hard to really know where to begin this review, because I feel like The Whalebone Theatre somehow manages to be about three different books in one, and yet still holds together as a single, coherent narrative.
A coming-of-age tale set largely at a crumbling Dorset country house from 1919-1945, this novel succeeds in capturing the magical atmosphere of a children’s classic like Ballet Shoes or I Capture the Castle, creating evocative descriptions of setting reminiscent of Rebecca, and weaving a gripping yet lyrical WWII story in the vein of All the Light We Cannot See. Oh, and if that’s not enough, there’s also, of course, the titular theatre constructed from the bones of a whale that washes up on the nearby beach.
At the heart of the story are the three unconventional Seagrave siblings who experience the highs and lows of growing up with minimal adult supervision in their family’s ancient English manor. Though the novel is somewhat of a ‘family saga’ following a number of characters connected with the house, the clear main characters are Cristabel Seagrave (the eldest child) and the house itself.
On the very first page of the novel we’re introduced to Cristabel as a feisty three-year-old playing with a stick as she awaits the arrival of her new stepmother. From the first couple of paragraphs, I got the sense Cristabel was a character who would find her way into my heart – and as I followed Cristabel on her unique journey towards womanhood, she did just that. Quinn has created a believable, complex female character that you can’t help but root for; Cristabel’s struggles against the restrictions imposed upon women feel both relatable to today and appropriate for the time period.
The other main character, then, is the house of Chilcombe and its unusual theatre. While the siblings’ adult lives often take them away from the house, it remains a constant presence in the narrative, and a focal point around which the various characters’ stories unfold. Before reading The Whalebone Theatre, I read an interesting blog post in which Quinn discusses the English country house as a globally recognisable ‘character’ in literature, and she definitely uses it to great effect here.
I don’t want to say too much more, because I think The Whalebone Theatre is a novel to get lost in without too many preconceptions. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly why, but I just get the sense that Joanna Quinn truly loved the process of writing this book – and the result is a captivating reading experience which I thoroughly enjoyed.
It is with a heavy heart that I have just turned the final page of Magic Flutes by Eva Ibbotson. This heaviness has nothing at all to do with the contents of the book – it is simply a result of the unavoidable fact that I have now read all 5 of Eva Ibbotson’s historical romances, and will never again experience the utter joy of reading one of them for the first time.
I first discovered Eva Ibbotson by way of Booktuber Lucy Powrie (lucythereader) during the first months of the pandemic in 2020. Longtime readers of this blog will know that I am a big fan of Lucy’s channel, and have found several new beloved classics and historical fiction novels thanks to her recommendations. When I heard her talk about Eva Ibbotson’s romantic, culturally rich and comforting historical fiction books, then, I knew I had to give them a try. And so, over the past three years, I’ve had the pleasure of discovering the wonder of these novels for myself.
The video that started my journey with Eva Ibbotson’s writing!
Eva Ibbotson is most widely known as a children’s author – in particular, perhaps, for the novel Journey to the River Sea, which won the Nestle Smarties Book Prize in the UK in 2001. In this post, though, I want to discuss her historical romances for adults, which were published in the 1980s and 1990s. The five novels in question are: The Secret Countess (1981), Magic Flutes (1982), A Company of Swans (1985), The Morning Gift (1993) and A Song for Summer (1997) (there’s technically also her short story collection A Glove Shop in Vienna and the novel Madensky Square, but these both have quite different vibes, so I’m sticking to the romances here).
With settings ranging from WWII Britain to 1910s South America, these books seem at first glance to be vastly different – but they each have several core elements in common, the most prominent of which is classical music. Ibbotson was born in Vienna in 1925, where she lived until she and her family were forced to flee to England in 1933 to escape the Nazis’ persecution of Jewish people. Although she only lived a short while in Vienna, it’s clear that the city’s love for music had already permeated her soul by the time she left. Ballet and opera are central to the plot in a couple of the novels – but even when classical music isn’t taking centre stage, the prose is peppered with musical references in which Ibbotson’s clear love of the art form shines through.
Another common element between the books is the romantic relationships themselves. The heroes are always very handsome and strong, and the heroines very beautiful and good (verging on the angelic at some points), while the baddies are often laughably extreme cartoon villains. There’s never any doubt that the villains will be vanquished just in time for the hero and heroine’s happily-ever-after – but that’s exactly why I love these books. Ibbotson’s prose has a familiar, fairytale-like quality, with long, elegant sentences that wrap themselves around you in a comforting embrace. Sometimes you just need to know that everything will work out okay in the end – and few authors pull that off with more style and wit than Ibbotson.
By now you will hopefully have an idea of whether Ibbotson’s historical romances might be something you’re interested in. But if you do decide to pick one of them up, where should you begin?
As these novels are all standalones, there’s no one best reading order – but I’m going to give a brief overview of each of the novels which might provide you with some idea of which one appeals to you the most.
The Secret Countess
Setting: 1910s Russia and England
Published: 10th May 1981
Pages: 368
Recommended for fans of: A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett
1 sentence summary: Penniless Russian countess Anna Grazinsky flees her home country after the revolution and finds work as a housemaid at an English country manor, where she struggles to hide her identity from her new employer, the handsome young Earl of Westerholme.
Magic Flutes
Setting: 1920s Austria
Published: 1st January 1982
Pages: 384
Recommended for fans of: I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith
1 sentence summary: Tessa (otherwise known as the Princess of Pfaffenstein) juggles her secret job as a wardrobe mistress at a Vienna opera company with the complications of her family’s recent descent into poverty (including the sale of her crumbling castle to English foundling-turned-millionaire Guy Farne).
A Company of Swans
Setting: 1910s Cambridge/South America
Published: 1st July 1985
Pages: 416
Recommended for fans of: Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild
1 sentence summary: Bored with life in Cambridge, Harriet Morton runs away with a ballet troupe on a tour of the Amazon, where she finds excitement, adventure – and possibly love, in the form of mysterious, music-loving British exile Rom Verney.
The Morning Gift
Setting: 1930s Vienna/WWII England
Published: 1st January 1993
Pages: 528
Recommended for fans of: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
1 sentence summary: Palaeontology professor Quin Somerville offers Ruth Berger a secret marriage of convenience to help her escape the Nazis’ persecution of Jews in Vienna – but the secret becomes rather more difficult to keep when Ruth enrols as a student on his course at Thameside University.
A Song for Summer
Setting: 1930s London/Austrian Alps
Published: 7th September 1997
Pages: 448
Recommended for fans of: The Sound of Music
1 sentence summary: Ellen Carr horrifies her suffragette aunts when she leaves London to work as a housekeeper at Hallendorf, an experimental school in the Austrian Alps featuring wild children, unconventional teachers, and a handsome, brooding gardener called Marek Tarnowsky.
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