JESS JUST READS

A BOOK REVIEW BLOG

The Circus Train by Amita Parikh

Two lives collide in a world of secrets.
But one secret greater than them all.
Is about to tear them apart . . .

At the World of Wonders, Europe’s most magnificent travelling circus, every moment is full of magic, and nothing is as it seems-especially for the people who put on the show.

Lena Papadopoulos has never quite found her place within the circus, even as the daughter of the extraordinary headlining illusionist, Theo. Brilliant and curious, Lena yearns for the real-world magic of science and medicine, despite her father’s overprotection and the limitations of her wheelchair. Her unconventional life takes an exciting turn when she rescues Alexandre, an orphan with his own secrets and a mysterious past.

Over several years, as their friendship flourishes and Alexandre trains as the illusionist’s apprentice, World War II escalates around them. When Theo and Alexandre are contracted to work and perform in a model town for Jews set up by the Nazis, Lena becomes separated from everything she knows. Forced to make her own way, Lena must confront her doubts and dare to believe in the impossible-herself.

Amita Parikh’s The Night Circus is a grand tale of a family separated across Europe by war.

The novel is led by the wonderous and intelligent Lena, disabled from birth by polio and underestimated by just about everyone around her. She and her father, an illusionist, are travelling with their circus in Amsterdam when a young Jewish boy, Alexandre, seeks refuge in their train. Soon, Lena and Alexandre form a strong friendship and then, eventually, a romance. But in the background, war is building, and Alexandre is not the only character that finds themselves in danger.

“The war, Theo told them, was a grave one, but it hadn’t yet spread south. Greece declared neutrality and Thessaloniki, at least to Lena, still felt like the home she always returned to each year.”

Amita should be commended for her remarkable research and attention to detail. The story spans decades, during such a pivotal moment in history, and the author has done a great job capturing the atmosphere of Europe during WWII, but also capturing Lena’s disability and the life of circus performers during this era.

The atmosphere is another one of the major strengths in the novel. The reader is immersed in a world of magic and intrigue, a mesmerising circus of wonder, where all are welcome – all shapes, sizes, heights, bodies, orientations. There is an impending doom looming under the surface, but until that threat hits, the reader feels comfortable in the story with these characters. Lena’s father Theo is a particular favourite of mine – headstrong and determined, but also incredibly caring.

“By the spring of 1940, Alexandre could do the cup-and-balls trick, the dove-pan illusion, the disappearing-penny act, and the French drop. At Horace’s request, he appeared before each performance in the lobby, along with four other cast members.”

Whilst the romantic element of the story feels a bit undeveloped and then subsequently wraps up far too quickly at the end to be believable, The Circus Train is a fantastic historical novel. The characters are all three-dimensional and well-crafted, and even the secondary characters shine through the pages.

As the story progresses and Lena finds herself separated from Alexandre and also her father, it allows her to pursue dreams she’d been putting on hold. She dreams of walking unassisted and attending medical school – both of these seem next to impossible, especially given Lena’s disability. Her father, in particular, was hesitant about Lena attending medical school but accepting their fates means Lena must re-focus her energy on her career and her health.

“Lena nodded. She still didn’t understand why Horace didn’t like Jewish people, but she wanted Alexandre to stay on board as long as he could. There was no chance of her saying anything to jeopardise that.”

A sweeping and charming tale of magic and hope amidst the backdrop of WWII, The Circus Train is for readers of historical fiction and war sagas. The carnivalesque setting will attract many readers. Readership skews 20+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Circus Train
Amita Parikh
December 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

The Other Half by Charlotte Vassell

The night before
Rupert’s 30th is a black tie dinner at the Kentish Town McDonald’s – catered with cocaine and Veuve Clicquot.

The morning after
His girlfriend Clemmie is found murdered on Hampstead Heath. All the party-goers have alibis. Naturally.

This investigation is going to be about Classics degrees and aristocrats, Instagram influencers and who knows who. Or is it whom? Detective Caius Beauchamp isn’t sure. He’s sharply dressed, smart, and as into self-improvement as Clemmie – but as he searches for the dark truth beneath the luxury, a wall of staggering wealth threatens to shut down his investigation before it’s begun.

Can he see through the tangled set of relationships in which the other half live, and die, before the case is taken out of his hands?

Okay. Ooft. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve reviewed on the blog. At the end of last year, I realised I needed a break from the book reviews, just to give myself time to read some books on my shelf that I’ve been wanting to read for years. Books I’d been putting off so that I could get through all the books sent to me from publishers. For the first time in a long time, I was choosing what to read based purely on interest rather than need, and it felt damn good.

But all holidays must come to an end, and I’m back! Back requesting review copies from publishers and back reviewing some of the fantastic reads I received over the last few months. Starting with Charlotte Vassell’s debut novel The Other Half.

A suspenseful police procedural that centres around the murder of a well-known socialite and influencer, Charlotte paints a rather accurate portrait of society’s elite, crafting a large suite of absurd and wildly unlikeable characters all connected to a murder.

The most notable character, narcissist Rupert Beauchamp, organises a black-tie dinner to celebrate his 30th birthday party (upstairs at a McDonalds, hilariously). When his girlfriend Clemency is found dead not long after the drug-fuelled event, investigators must navigate their way through this incredibly elite, self-centred world to find out which member of Clemmie’s circle might’ve committed the crime.

“Nell had walked from Islington to the V&A. No better way to kill a couple of hours waiting to go on a date with your long-standing friend who you angry-shagged last night than with a brisk panic-stroll through Central London.”

The entertaining elements in this book are two-fold. On the one hand, the characters provide hilarity and laughs – they’re utterly ridiculous in what they wear, how they act and speak about others, what they do (or don’t) care about. Charlotte provides a masterclass in how to paint characters vividly in few words, and it’s remarkable that this is her debut.

And on the other hand, at its core this is a crime novel with a team of police leading an investigation to find the perpetrator. So it feels like both a character-driven and a plot-driven story, which will appeal to many readers.

“Caius was back at his desk in the incident room and had finally finished reading the full autopsy report. Clemmie’s poor mother had called, or rather sobbed down the phone to him. She didn’t appear to know her daughter at all. Nothing useful came from that interaction.”

Vassell explores elitism and London’s class system. We meet characters whose entitlement has them believing they can do whatever their want – they almost seem to be void of real emotional or realistic maturity, and it makes for an entertaining read.

I rather like Charlotte’s writing style – succinct, direct, no unnecessary description. She doesn’t bog down the story with excessive setting or character reflection. She lets dialogue carry the story, and so much of the characterisation comes through in her zippy dialogue and cunning observations.

“Caius hung up as a grey-haired man in a loose-fitting Nehro collar shirt, faded pink shorts and brown leather boating shoes unlocked the gallery door. It was reassuring to know that fifty-somethings with little pot bellies could still pull.”

The Other Half is recommended for readers of thriller, crime and mystery. Readership skews 21+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Other Half
Charlotte Vassell
February 2023
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

The Tilt by Chris Hammer

A man runs for his life in a forest. A woman plans sabotage. A body is unearthed.

Newly-minted homicide detective Nell Buchanan returns to her home town, annoyed at being assigned a decades-old murder – a ‘file and forget’.

But this is no ordinary cold case, as the discovery of more bodies triggers a chain of escalating events in the present day. As Nell starts to join the pieces together, she begins to question how well she truly knows those closest to her. Could her own family be implicated in the crimes?

The nearer Nell comes to uncovering the secrets of the past, the more dangerous the present becomes for her, as she battles shadowy assailants and sinister forces. Can she survive this harrowing investigation and what price will she have to pay for the truth?

Chris Hammer’s latest thriller The Tilt is a multi-layered crime story spanning almost 100 years and set in a secluded Australian town.

When a regulator is deliberately blown up, a body from decades earlier is unearthed at its base. Many think the case is too old to properly solve – whoever did it would be dead, alongside anyone else in the small town who was alive when the person was murdered. But with one body comes more, and before too long homicide detective – and former local – Nell Buchanan is on the trail of the killer.

“Nell is up with the sun, training gear on. Tulong is still asleep. She wonders if it ever wakes. The town sits flat and exposed on the long plain above the tilt, its trees punctation marks lacking a narrative. Beyond the houses to the west there is nothing.”

The Tilt follows multiple timelines and perspectives as quite a few different narratives need to intersect across the course of the novel. It does take a bit of time to comprehend how the characters and eras all relate to each other, and there are a lot of people to keep track of (particularly at the end as the conclusion nears), but Chris’ characterisation allows for easy differentiation between the main characters.

Chris moves through the chapters with seamless storytelling – he propels us straight into the action of each scene, and always manages to leave you wanting to read the next chapter. For such a large book I finished it rather quickly, which is a testament to how eager I was to find out the ending.

“I wonder what my dad would think of it. Someone blowing it up like that. Horrified, I imagine. Rolling back progress. But, then, he wouldn’t have imagined finding a body like that. A skeleton in the bottom of the regulator. All this time. I couldn’t believe it when I read about it. A skeleton. Who could have known that?”

Atmosphere, mood and setting is always a strong element of Chris Hammer’s books. The dry heat – the sticky humidity – is captured vividly and readers in Australia will be able to recognise that weather as they turn the pages. Alongside setting, Chris captures the different time periods with clarity. The golden era of the 70s was my favourite – the lovestruck Tessa and Tycho – but it was also intriguing to follow the storylines from earlier in the 20th century. The war and what it forced people to do to survive.

I do find it peculiar that most of Chris Hammer’s books seem to have a similar colouring – Scrublands, Trust and now The Tilt. All orange, making them look almost identical. A friend saw me reading this one and said they’d already read it, but then realised they’d actually already read Scrublands and thought the two books were the same.

“My dad didn’t want to go to war. Not because he was afraid, but because he was resentful. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I worked it out later. His own father had come back from the first war shattered, as if he’d been broken and then glued back together. That’s what my mum said.”

Australian crime at its finest, Chris Hammer knows how to weave together a compelling and pacey thriller. A great Father’s Day gift, as always, and a suitable gift for any level reader. Crime readers, in particular, will love this latest edition.

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Tilt
Chris Hammer
October 2022
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers

The Only Child by Kayte Nunn

Almost every graduating class had a girl who disappeared. A decades-old crime threatens to tear apart three generations of women in this unputdownable mystery that will keep you gripped until its last heart-wrenching page.

1949 It is the coldest winter Orcades Island has ever known, when a pregnant sixteen-year-old arrives at Fairmile, a home for ‘fallen women’ run by the Catholic Church. She and her baby will disappear before the snow melts.

2013 Frankie Gray has come to the island for the summer, hoping to reconnect with her teenage daughter, Izzy, before starting a job as deputy sheriff. They are staying with her mother, Diana, at The Fairmile Inn, but when an elderly nun is found dead, and then a tiny skeleton is discovered nearby, Frankie is desperate for answers.

Kayte Nunn’s historical novel The Only Child follows dual timeline between 1949 and 2013, and centres around a secluded and strict home for unwed, pregnant women in the mid 20th century.

In 1940s United States, unwed pregnant young women were sent away by their families out of shame – once they’d given birth, and pressured to give up their babies, they could return home. The Only Child is very much drawn from real life events, and it’s clear how much research and authenticity has made its way into the book.

In this early storyline we meet one such teenager, star pupil and promising student and now devastated to find herself in the predicament she was in. And in 2013, mystery surrounds an aged care home in the same area – a murder that may be connected to the unwed mother’s home. Police officer Frankie Gray finds herself deep in the investigation as she works to connect this murder with a skeleton found nearby, as well as with her elderly mother who seems to be harbouring secrets.

“Frankie rankled at being ordered around by her mother as though she was a teenager herself, but she let it slide. Besides, it wasn’t such a terrible idea, and it would mean that Izzy was at least able to explore on her own without having to rely on one of them to ferry her around all the time.”

Unlike previous Kayte Nunn novels, The Only Child is more of a steer towards crime/mystery, with decades-old secrets only coming to the surface in 2013. Personally, I really liked this element of her writing and found it kept the story engaging and moving forward at a reasonable pace.

Alongside this, Kayte’s book incorporates strong vivid setting and characterisation. Written in third person, each protagonist and storyline is crafted with clarity. She captures emotion and intimacy with ease, and dialogue is natural and realistic.

“As they got out of the car, she saw two girls sweeping the front porch. Both were obviously pregnant, their bellies stretching the dull fabric of their dresses. The girl didn’t know why but the mere sight of them, in a similar predicament to her, eased the knot in her stomach.”

With a 1949 setting, Kayte establishes the time period well. We experience the public scrutiny, scorn and shame that comes with an unplanned pregnancy. How it changes families, and forces young women to be shipped off with no say in the matter. Women who may want their babies are encouraged to give them up for adoption, and the medical facilities available at the home are sub-par and so mother and baby are put at risk – particularly in The Only Child, as the 1949 Winter is the coldest it’s ever been. The home isn’t necessarily equipped to handle the cold weather.

“The girl hadn’t brought much with her – a couple of changers of clothes, skirts that her mother had let out as far as the waistbands would allow, and an old sweater of her father’s that would stretch over her stomach as she grew bigger – and so she quickly arranged them, closing the suitcase and sliding it under the bed.”

Kayte Nunn’s The Only Child is recommended for historical fiction readers. Readership skews female, 30+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

The Only Child
Kayte Nunn
September 2022
Hachette Book Publishers

Wildflowers by Peggy Frew

Meg and Nina have been outshone by their younger sister Amber since childhood. They have become used to living on the margins of their parents’ interest, used to others turning away from them and towards charismatic Amber.

But Amber’s life has not gone the way they all thought it would, and now the three of them are together for the first time in years, on the road to a remote holiday rental in Far North Queensland, where Meg and Nina plan on helping Amber overcome her addiction. As good intentions gradually become terrifying reality, these sisters will test the limits of love and the line between care and control.

Peggy Frew’s Wildflowers is a disarming and moving novel about three sisters who test the boundaries of their fragile relationship in an effort to aid their youngest sister Amber as she spirals through a drug and alcohol addiction.

A character-driven exploration of love, family and grief, the book is largely set in the past. The bookend chapters of the novel are the present, where we realise how traumatised the 37-year-old Nina is after a recent family trip away to North Queensland. There, her and Meg had attempted to help wean her sister off drugs, and the results were enough to severely psychologically wound and damage Nina.

As the book progresses, we read about the events that transpired on this family trip away.

“They were still who they always had been, still those sisters, but on this afternoon, in this car, driving with the windows down between cane fields under a deepening sky with purple cut-out mountains in the distance, they were wearing it so lightly, their bossiness and flakiness and wildness; they were wearing it like they used to, like it was supple, slippery, not completely fixed. Like it could be taken off.”

Peggy seamlessly captures three very different women – Amber, Meg and Nina do not blend together at any point of the novel. I did not have to re-read to work out who was speaking, nor did I get confused whose life we were embedded in at any given moment.

She’s crafted three siblings whose lives have catapulted in completely different directions – Meg, whose happiness stems from family and those around her, Nina, who seems to prefer functioning solo and finds solace in distancing herself from others. She resembles the observant one. And then there’s Amber, who finds comfort in the chaotic and unstable nature of addiction.

“In the car Meg had been laughing too. Meg and Amber laughing in the front and Nina in the back hiding secret tears of hope behind her sunglasses. They had been close then, the three of them, together in that moment of lightness…”

Peggy’s writing is taut and highly observant, capturing even the most mundane of actions with intense clarity. There’s an intimacy to her writing that I think readers will love – an introspective and omniscient narrative.

The book does move back and forth between past and present and I did find it a little confusing at times – a little grey in its construction and separation – but other than that, found Wildflowers to be incredibly moving and well-crafted. I haven’t read Peggy’s earlier works yet, but this one certainly is a motivation to steer toward them.

“Amber followed, and Nina came last, eyes on the bags hooked one over each of Amber’s skinny arms. What might be in them? Not heroin – not anymore. And not ice – Amber, thank God, didn’t seem to have gone for ice. Pot? Maybe. Please don’t let her be that stupid, thought Nina.”

Literary fiction with rich, raw characters and a slow-build but satisfying story, Peggy Frew’s Wildflowers is recommended for literary readers. Readership skews female, 25+

Thank you to the publishing company for mailing me a review copy in exchange for an honest review.

Wildflowers
Peggy Frew
September 2022
Allen & Unwin Book Publishers