Madwoman, by Louisa Treger

Madwoman is a carefully told take on Nellie Bly’s experience uncovering the truth about the asylum on Blackwell Island. With insight into her tumultuous childhood, we see her breakthrough into journalism, and see her personal experience in the asylum close-up, which is enticing and sickening in equal measure.

The character of Nellie herself is the real strong point of the book. Rooted in her childhood, the character is well-fleshed out, determined and intelligent; a woman ahead of her time but not to the extent that would make it unrealistic. She’s a definitive and courageous figure within her field, and Treger captures that perfectly. 

Treger is particularly successful in her depiction of the horrors of the asylum: the violence, starvation, and filth fall off the page. Nothing is withheld in these sections of the story – its seedy realism reflects the harrowing experience of an asylum of the time. It is honest and gruelling, which is precisely what an account such as this requires. 

I was also pleased to see a note towards the beginning, accounting for the story's historical accuracy, and a short biography of Nellie's life at the end. The story is well placed within its historical context. Treger's simple but essential additions are reminders of the authentic Nellie and her very real and amazing life and career. Treger's handling of her history is careful and respectful, a piece that Nellie herself would support. 

However, Madwoman, suffers in particular dialogue and descriptive choices made by Treger. Some of the dialogue feels clunky and unnatural, especially when young Nellie is speaking: ‘But now now I see that allegiance is more complicated’ That doesn’t feel like something an eleven-year-old would say. Equally, several illustrative moments were handled simplistically, stating emotions plainly, rather than sharing a more in-depth consideration. As this novel follows Nellie Bly, a renowned journalist, a more detailed account of the events of her life would have fit this persona more suitably. 

As a book promising the story of Nellie and her experience at the Asylum on Blackwell Island, there is little detail on specific elements that should have been key. Nellie wishes to focus on the women of the asylum - following her career focused on working women - yet the attention those women, bar Nellie, get in this novel is limited. While there are several named inmates, their personalities and appearances are not distinct enough to warrant attention from the audience. By extension, as they play more minor roles, Nellie's motivation for having them released is not as strong or developed as it could have been, if there has been more attention given to these women.  Equally, the same could be said for the various nurses, who blend into one figure. For a work that aims to tell the story of a pioneering woman working in a man's world, the lack of time spent with the other women in the story falls short of impressing. I would have preferred a shift away from the romance arc of the story, which though relevant to Nellie's story, felt out of place in the asylum. A greater dedication to the women of Blackwell Island instead of the relationship would have deepened the emotional payoff towards the end of the novel. 

Overall, I found this book intriguing and recommend it to anyone interested in the subject area, or with a general interest in influential women in history. The small nitpicks did not make any of the rest of the book less readable and enjoyable. Focusing on Nellie alone, Treger does a brilliant job of developing and exploring a character, and does the excelling journalist the justice she deserves. 

I look forward to whatever Louisa Treger writes next. 

Abi's rating: 3.5/5

- Abi

Instagram: @abbie.besant / Twitter: @abiwritesbadly 

Abi read the proof edition of "Madwoman."

Publication day is 9th June, so pre-order with us now!

The Split, by Laura Kay

Another purchase from Gay’s the Word bookshop in London. My best friend and I were fighting over who got to read this one first. I won.

Ally goes through a nasty breakup with her long-term girlfriend, Emily, and in a fit of despair and heartbreak, flees London with her ex’s cat in tow, back to her dad's home in Sheffield. She hasn’t spent any considerable time there since she was a teenager, and it’s a depressing spiral when she takes stock of her life as it stands.

The universe does crazy stuff, though. Somehow her old beard from her teenage years, Jeremy is also back home after a brutal breakup. In a desperate attempt to prove themselves to their exes, they sign up for a half-marathon. Neither of them has run a yard in their adult lives. It’s just a question of if this new experience will, in the least, not kill them; or at the best, turn them into perfect versions of themselves that their exes can’t bare to live without. Hmm…

This book is hilarious. The second hand-embarrassment was shocking and had me writhing in agony at times. They are tragic, useless, and painfully flawed. But they are us. Just regular people. There's no visage of perfection here! Jeremy is foolish and idealistic to his detriment; Ally is shut off and doom-tastic. A fabulous combo.

What’s really striking about this book is its insight into adult relationships. Specifically, adult relationships that began pre-adulthood. How fatal flaws are invisible until you’re seeing them from the outside; and the habits you'd built to make space for your relationship and your partner. It’s so cringey and uncomfortable, but it’s very grounding to know that these are shared emotions and experiences. This story holds no embellishment or romanticism for what it feels like to live through a significant breakup, and the struggle of becoming a first person singular again, after being plural for so long. Ally gets it so wrong in handling the breakup, and Emily doesn’t do much better. It's a bit of a bleak look into the lengths that humans might go when they’re crazy in love. But in a funny way!

A classic queer romcom – the gays would go wild for a film adaptation of this! There's enough personal growth and depth to keep me from rolling my eyes, and enough light-hearted tomfoolery to keep me from crying. A quick and breezy read that I’d recommend to any holiday reader!

- Sian

Radical Victorians, by James Hobson

Radical Victorians by James Hobson tells us about a group of Victorians (obvs!) who defied convention in various ways: espousing vegetarianism, teetotalism, cremation, women’s legal equality and many other views that were ahead of their time. The individuals are:

- Anna Kingsford

- Frances Power Cobbe

- Ann Jane Carlile

- Florence Cook

- Sir Henry Thompson

- Isabelle Holmes

- Elizabeth Wolstenholme-Elmy

- Richard Pankhurst

- George Drysdale

- Annie Besant

- Edward Truelove

- Charles Bradlaugh

- Josephine Butler

- W.T. Stead

- Stuart Headlam

- Keir Hardie

- Henry Hyndham

- Sir Charles Dilke

- Francis Dalton

To my shame, I had only heard of five of them and, as I read Hobson’s book, I realised I actually knew very little about those few. This is perhaps not surprising. Hobson has chosen people who change the future but (mostly) didn’t live to see their views accepted. Thus, the book excludes Florence Nightingale and Charles Darwin – their views were radical when first proposed but were fairly mainstream when Queen Victoria died. Francis Dalton was a great scientist but made one huge misjudgement: eugenics. Whilst the basic science may be correct - racehorses can be bred for stamina, potatoes can be bred to resist blight - the moral consequences are shudderingly deplorable. Modern cancel culture is writing him out of history, which is a shame, as he did achieve some great things: the first weather map in a newspaper; breakthroughs in fingerprint technology and statistical methods.

Hobson sets the context for each life, explaining the standard contemporary views and showing how unusual the above team seemed to other Victorians. Many of them had the luxury of wealthy parents and could afford to throw themselves whole-heartedly into fighting for good causes - as Hobson puts it, they were part of “the leisured intellectual elite.” Some, however, like Keir Hardie, the founder of the Independent Labour Party, were desperately poor.

That brings me onto my one cavil with the book. Many - most? All? - of the cast list were known to each other, and they pop up in each other’s chapters. The trouble is, I can’t remember whether, when we read about Elizabeth Wolstenholme-Elmy going to see the work of Josephine Butler, we have read about Butler yet or not! And there are thirty-five mentions of Charles Bradlaugh before we reach the chapter dedicated to him. It’s all good stuff, but the interconnectedness makes it confusing. I know E.M. Forster told us to “Only connect!” but I sometimes wonder if Hobson has taken the instruction to extremes!

The book is well-written and provides a lot of interesting information about each life. It’s not as dry as you might expect. I shall read it again, and I know I’ll get more out of it on a second or third reading.

- Colin

Hardback, £25. Publishing date: 30-05-22. Pre-order with us now!

5 Lessons I've Learned from Book Characters | Sian

Us bookworms think of the characters in the stories we read as friends. Don't deny it! They have an influence on us just as much as flesh and blood in the real world. And ever since I joined the book-thumping army in my childhood, I feel like I've been gathering pearls of wisdom from them, and carrying them around in my heart like the books in my bag. They have guided me, soothed me, and given me direction. Some of them for decades (I'm now old enough to say that - gross!) and some for a few months. But when I stop to think about it, these characters have given me such clarity at difficult and powerful times in my life. Here they are...

(Please note how tatty all of these books are from how many times I've read them!)

1. Noahandjude, I'll Give you the Sun, by Jandy Nelson. Aged 24.
"Dream! Create!"

They're twins, and they see themselves as one entity; one soul split apart. It's moving to see them grow and see themselves as individuals. But this isn't even their most powerful message. Noah and Jude are artists. And their art is their voice; their breath; their energy; their light. It moves them and teaches them and is them. And as a writer, it is so powerful to see two young, unencumbered artists just doing it. The way they see the world through their prismatic, artistic eyes is just incredible. It reminds me that the world is my muse and my canvas.

2. Amal, Does my Head Look Big in This? by Randa Abdel-Fattah. Aged 12.
"Listen, and you'll understand."

Amal is a second generation Muslim living in Australia. She wears hijab full time, went to a culturally diverse middle school before her conservative grammar school, and all of her friends are from somewhere that isn't Australia. Being white and having a British family, this story offered me the most enlightening insight into the lives of those whose race, religion, and culture is used to oppress them. Amal has taken her whole life to understand the nuances of being classed as an "Other," and even she has her hang-ups in this world! But she just keeps listening. And learning to make allowances alongside her as a teenager truly changed my view of the world and the people around me.

3. Hazel Grace Lancaster, The Fault in our Stars, by John Green. Aged 20.
"Don't hold yourself back; keep moving."

This character is famously based on a real teenager, Esther Grace Earl, who sadly passed away of cancer in August 2010.  With Hazel's diagnosis of lung cancer, she has every reason in the world to give up. But she just... doesn't? She has passions, and connections, and hopes, and... a life. A good life, all things considered. And she doesn't deny it! And for an early 20-something who worried about the future so much, Hazel breezed through me as a reminder to stop sweating the small stuff. To put energy where it will count. I'll always be grateful for this one.

4. Liz, Elsewhere, by Gabrielle Zevin. Aged 12.
"You're allowed to stop grieving."

Elsewhere is set in the afterlife; a very unique and bubbly take on where we go when we pass away. Liz finds herself there unexpectedly, when she's murdered in a hit-and-run. Having never turned 16, she is adamant that she has been wronged, and deserves better, and therefore can stop. I suppose, on reflection, she's the other side of Hazel's coin. Watching Liz grieve for her loss, come to terms with change, and begin to thrive to the best of her ability was less about a change of mindset, and more about letting go. Letting go of her vices, letting go of her argument with the world, and letting go of her grief. It's impressive, and I admire her to this day.

5. Molly Weasley, Harry Potter. Aged 18... I know! So late!
"To protect the ones you love, is an act of rebellion."

She has always been my favourite character, from the moment I met her in King's Cross Station. Because as soon as she shows up, Harry is safe. I mean, everyone in Molly's presence is safe, but it's Harry we worry for the most. Molly puts protective charms around her home; she always has food to be eaten, and beds to be slept in. She gives advice, and makes a fuss, and she only shouts because she loves you so very darn much! And when the world falls into a state of war? This doesn't change for a millisecond. She stands her ground, shares her morals, protects the ones on the front line. And she doesn't even blink. She is my hero, and no matter who wrote her, she belongs to ME now!