Annabel AbbsRecensioni

In 1845, Eliza Acton published a cookery book -Modern Cookery - that continues to inspire and influence well-known cooks today. Only the barest bones of her life are known. That she was born into a wealthy family reduced by the father's bankruptcy, such that she and her mother were forced to run a boarding house. Here it was that Eliza, born far too grand to lift a ladle, learnt not only to cook, but to be inspired by food, by recipes, by ingredients. Annabel Abbs has taken this bare biography and lifted into an engaging story in which she and her hired help Ann Kirby feed from each other's interest and developing talent to invent and refine dish after dish, faithfully recorded and eventually published. Read this book to get an idea of Victorian genteel poverty - Eliza's family: and actual grinding poverty - Ann Kirby's circumstances, translated into an engaging story about two women who between them revolutionised British cooking, thanks not directly to them, but to Mrs. Beeton, who poached their material (spoiler alert).

Enjoyed this, as it took me out of myself and talks about some women writers well known to me, and others I now want to read.

An interesting book based on the lives of Eliza Acton and her kitchen maid, Ann Kirby. This book made me want to cook! The imagery made the book come alive- filling my senses with smells (some good, some bad)! Its illed with comradey and a yearning for independence. A definite must read!

There's so much that I loved about this story but I think, overall, it fell a little short of its full potential. I started out feeling thankful that I'd stumbled on a rare historical fiction that wasn't contrived and full of smarminess---and I think it maintained that spirit to the end. Thank you, Author! I loved the atmosphere, as well as the attention to the interesting details coupled with avoidance of too much description of inconsequential things. I loved that there was so much allusion to real people and events that I spent an hour, and plan to spend longer, going through the suggested authors and reading list at the back of the book. I love it that Eliza Acton's original cookery book can be downloaded and printed---it's currently collecting on my printer tray---all 740ish pages of it.

There was a lot I struggled with, though. Since this book is about culinary arts, let me compare it to a delicacy. One may imagine a unique and beautifully executed story with all the special things that make it come together marvelously—one may even collect most of the ingredients to make it mix superbly. But if one tweaks an important element in the wrong way, the whole thing tastes a little off. One big issue was my difficulty with the supporting characters. Hatty starts off sort of bossy and keeps saying Ann must obey everything she says…but that doesn’t actually happen and the next lengthy scene concerning Hatty has her sympathizing with Ann and being kind. In the end, Hatty really never plays any significant part and the story could have been told just as well without her. Eliza's mother switches from kind to difficult to compassionate to snobby to hatefully revengeful in turns—I guess her one consistency is ridiculousness. Mr. Arnott seems intrigued by Eliza’s interest in how spices are used in cooking—even comments that it makes her unique and one gets the impression this is what attracts him to her; yet thereafter he makes it clear he expects her to be an ordinary Victorian ornamental wife. The whole thing with Eliza's sister, Mary, was completely unbelievable. Even the short time with the French chef is weird—he and Eliza butt heads but the next morning he suddenly has a change of heart and she’s suddenly lusting after him? All these shifts in character and story line might be ok if fleshed out a bit, but instead it just leaves me sad that this repetitive lack of character development mars an otherwise charming and well-written story. So many of these supporting characters are completely inconsequential.

The alluding to Eliza’s past goes on too long and random tragic events are thrown in with no foreshadowing. Sometimes really major events, like Eliza's breakup or the ending of Ann and Eliza’s friendship, are alluded to and then just skipped over like afterthoughts. Interesting “plot twists” are revealed far too late to be interesting. The seasoned reader has already discerned them. It's all just such a weird way to tell what could be a memorable story.

My opinion is probably not a popular one but I think Eliza acted selfishly to give up motherhood to chase her own interests. “Maybe I was not meant for motherhood," she says. Why? Because she has interests, hobbies, and dreams? So do I but God made me a mother—-so I fulfill that first and fit in the other things as I can. As someone whose mother left her family to go chasing greener pastures, this hits hard and leaves a bad taste. I lost a lot of respect for her there and I hope that's not her true story.

Ann’s memories of earlier days with her mother before the dementia made me sad. An attentive mother is priceless. I hope I don’t leave my children too soon.

The most memorable quote from this story was from a poem by Miss Letitia Elizabeth Landon called "The Widow's Mite": "Few save the poor feel for the poor: The rich know not how hard it is to be of needful food"

I'm planning to save this in my collection---and start adding to my antique cookery book collection much more regularly!

Not quite as good as I'd hoped it would be, but maybe that's because it also felt a bit different that I expected. This is a fictional work based on the real life of Elizabeth Acton, author of what is considered to be one of the world’s most successful cookery writers, with Modern Cookery for Private Families first published in 1845 and was a best seller internationally for the next 90 years.

Abbs, condensed the 10 years Acton worked on the cookbook, along with her assistant/servant Ann Kirby, and imagined how the partnership might have worked. I think she did a great job, and I was enjoying it right up until the end, where it did so rather abruptly. Acton returns home from a visit to her sister's, full of enthusiasm, energy, and plans to add a chapter on bread, enters the kitchen to hear Ann humming, and BAM! The next page is the Epilogue. It was disorienting, to say the least.

Otherwise, it was an enjoyable, if not exactly riveting, read. I knew nothing about Acton (as I try never to cook), but by the time I finished this book, I planning on trawling the used book sites for a copy of Modern Cookery for Private Families, even though I have no plans to start cooking. I think it was the scene involving quince paste. I'm intrigued by quinces and would be willing to try my hand at paste. Anyway, a good read, with some great author notes at the end about what's accurate and what's story-telling. It's always a bonus when fiction can be educational too.½

Eliza Acton, a respectable brewer’s daughter, has brought a second volume of poems to her publisher, Longman of London, only to be told that ladies shouldn’t write poems. (Read: The first book didn’t sell.) Not only won’t Mr. Longman publish her manuscript, he asks for something almost as déclassé, a cookery book, and tells her not to bother him again until she’s finished it.

He’s supposing that Miss Acton wouldn’t actually cook from her own recipes, for the year is 1835, and as Abbs makes clear, middle-class women aren’t supposed to show appetites of any sort. Miss Acton’s poetry, though hardly risqué in any tangible sense, is about longing rather than daffodils, intense feelings rather than Christian uplift. How wanton!

Longman’s assuming that, as managers of respectable households, ladies maintain a staff of servants, and the cook and scullery maid do the real cooking. He never considers the result, inevitably awful, nor does anyone else — meat roasted to the consistency of leather, like as not curried, with half-cooked potatoes drowning in grease.

Except Eliza, who has spent time in France and knows what food should taste like. But her mother will not hear of her besmirching the family escutcheon. Daughter must not descend into the kitchen herself and sully her hands, educated for finer pursuits, with anything so coarse a task as satisfying human appetite.

Worse, the family escutcheon has already suffered — Papa’s business has gone belly-up, and he’s fled to France, leaving wife and children to fend for themselves and pretend to the world that he has died. Since two sisters of Eliza’s have become governesses, a comedown necessary to prevent further financial embarrassment, and a third has married and produced a house full of children, Eliza has no room to divert from the path chosen for her.

So it is that mother and daughter rent a large house in a town near a watering hole and prepare to take in boarders. But that’s such a comedown too that Mother schemes to have her spinster daughter, already in her thirties, married off — and if, perchance, a wealthy widower came to stay at the boardinghouse while taking the waters, why, that would be perfect.

Part of Miss Eliza’s English Kitchen involves the mother-daughter power struggle, and whether daughter will find her voice to resist. And it’s not sure she wants to, because she recognizes that marrying a rich man would solve a lot of problems. But the larger story revolves around her insistence that she do the cooking, so that she may prepare a book for Mr. Longman and satisfy the poetry she finds in food. To assist her, she hires Ann Kirby, a local girl, and when Eliza discovers that Ann too finds poetry in food, a friendship and collaboration develops despite the social gulf between them.

What a charming story, told alternately from Eliza’s and Ann’s points of view. I confess I have a soft spot for Eliza Acton, whose cookbook provided me years ago with historical evidence for my book on the social history of the potato. But aside from Acton’s significance, as the story of a middle-class woman’s choices in Victorian England (few) and moral and emotional dilemmas (many), the narrative flies off the page.

And she’s not the only point of focus, for Ann faces a set of problems far more complicated and harrowing than her employer’s, though cut from the same cloth. For instance, Ann’s mother suffers what we would now recognize as early-onset dementia, while her father is a disabled veteran.

Another pleasure of Miss Eliza’s English Kitchen is the prose, which conveys the place and time, yet also inner lives.

On the downside, I find Eliza’s mother wanting depth. I wish the narrative revealed her thwarted desires, so that she came across as more than a corseted autocrat obsessed with reputation. You also sense that Eliza has a secret, and I think Abbs might have revealed it earlier, allowing it to complicate the emotional narrative, instead of concealing it for shock value later. The plot point it eventually provides delivers less than promised, and at the expense of fuller character development, including the potential to deepen Mother’s.

All the same, Miss Eliza’s English Kitchen makes pleasant reading.

Miss Eliza’s English Kitchen -Abbs
Audio performance by Ell Potter and Bianca Amato
4 stars

The story starts in 1837, the very beginning of Victoria’s reign. The fictionalized Eliza Acton is being smothered under multiple burdens; restrictive gender roles, genteel poverty, and moral shaming. She struggles to find independence, agency and a voice in the world. She’d like to be a published poet. With limited opportunities, she begins the intensive labor of writing a cookbook. Ann Kirby is struggling for her very survival. She is the sole support of severely disabled parents. She needs income, regular meals, and a roof over her head. She becomes Eliza's kitchen assistant. The narrative of the story alternates between these two women.

This was a slow story, but interesting. I thought the vast contrast in social class of these women was very well done. It was easy to see that while they might have bonded over their interest and intense work in food preparation, a real friendship would have been difficult to sustain. The book’s ending was abrupt, but it seemed entirely feasible. The author’s notes at the end of my kindle text were even more interesting than the book.

In UK called ‘The language of food’.
Historical fiction based on Eliza Acton, who perhaps wrote the first detailed cookbook for the middle classes.

Set in first half of the 19th century, Eliza yearns to make her own way in an England hostile to independent women. She trains a young servant, who has her own tribulations, working to escape the family hovel and with the disgrace of a mother committed to a mental institute.

I have absolutely no interest in cookery, but Abbs is able to convey knowledgeably the passion for creating food Eliza and her assistant have, and I found fascinating & informative how the two women negotiated living in a restrictive society.

When Eliza's father becomes bankrupt and flees to France, Eliza and her mother determine to open a boarding house in Tonbridge. Eliza fancies herself a poet but is a spinster in her thirties. She employs a kitchen maid from the local town, Ann Kirby, whose mother is confined to an asylum, both the women have secrets. After being told by a publisher that she should write a cookery book, Eliza sets out to do just that.
This is a wonderfully gentle book which is surprisingly poetic. The descriptions of the food are delicious and the way that Eliza's poetry is used to frame the recipes in totally in keeping with the actual Eliza Acton book. Here the relationship between Ann and Eliza is central to the story and I loved the way that the life of a poor woman and a middle class spinster were both restrictive in their own ways.

This book is a really well done portrait of Victorian women's lives. It focuses on Eliza Acton and her servant girl, Anne, who come from very different backgrounds and crises to meet in the kitchen. There were things that are a bit unbelievable in the way that real life can be unbelievable. There were many things about both Eliza and Anne that left me agitated in the reading -- their circumstances, their lack of power, their inability to understand each other in their different stations in life. The story unfolded in a perfectly paced and precise way, and the audiobook narrator did a wonderful job.

Advanced Listening Copy provided by Libro.fm

This novel is based on a true story of a poet and a first cookery writer, Eliza Acton. She rediscovers cooking after a publisher suggests Eliza to write a cookbook instead of poetry. She starts collecting recipes, experimenting them and writing observations. Together with her assistant, Ann, they carefully try different recipes and make adjustments for the dish to be unique and delicious.
There is much more in this book besides love for cooking. This is a story of friendship between a lady and her servant. Told in alternating perspectives between Eliza and Ann, the reader experiences struggles and challenges of two women from different social classes in the Victorian era.

The writing is wonderful, the main characters are lovable, the plot is fascinating and the story is beautifully told. I truly enjoyed this book.

Inspired by the little that is known of the life of poet, and pioneering cookery writer, Eliza Acton, and her assistant, Ann Kirby, The Language of Food (also published under the title Miss Eliza’s English Kitchen) is the third novel from British author, Annabel Abbs.

“But you cannot cook, Eliza. You have never cooked. Besides, ladies do not cook.”

The rejection of Eliza Acton’s second book of poetry by a publisher who suggests she writes a gothic romance or recipe book instead, coincides with her father’s abrupt bankruptcy, leaving she and her mother to take charge of a boardinghouse for wealthy visitors to Tunbridge Wells in order to support themselves. Despite rarely ever having even set foot in a kitchen, and her mother’s objections, Eliza volunteers to take on the role of cook, reasoning it’s an opportunity to save money, and accept the publisher’s commission to write a recipe book.

The sole carer for her mentally ill mother and one legged, alcoholic father, seventeen year old Ann Kirby is both apprehensive and excited when the local Vicar Mr Thorpe arranges a position for her as underhousemaid for Eliza at the boardinghouse. Unused to service, Ann has no idea what to expect but she soon proves herself invaluable to Eliza as she proves to have an instinct for flavours, and they work to develop the cookbook together.

“Why should the culinary arts not include poetry? Why should a recipe book not be a thing of beauty?”

Told through the alternating perspectives of the two women, The Language of Food draws on fact and imagination as Eliza and Ann develop what will eventually be “the greatest British cookbook of all time”, published in 1845 as ‘Modern Cookery, in All Its Branches: Reduced to a System of Easy Practice, for the Use of Private Families’. It’s also a story of female friendship and fortitude, as the women, despite their different stations in life, work side by side, and a story of creativity and cooking as Eliza and Ann combine their talents for poetry and instinct for flavours.

While Abbs incorporates as much accurate information as available about Eliza in The Language of Food, Ann is almost an entirely a fictional construct. I liked Eliza as a somewhat unconventional woman for her time, and it’s pleasing she and her contribution to modern cookery have being remembered and honoured here. Ann is young and naive, and her backstory makes her a very sympathetic character. Abb’s portrayal of the partnership they develop in the kitchen is warming, though their situation precludes a truly equal relationship. I found it interesting that Abbs explained the omission of Ann as a coauthor of the book as a decision made by Ann, and have to wonder if there was any truth to that.

The bulk of the story takes place over a year so, though in reality it took Eliza and Ann ten years, from 1835 to 1845. to write their cookbook. Abbs touches on the social history of the era including the tremendous inequality between social classes, the status of women across the social spectrum, and the treatment of the mentally ill.

“I must coax the flavors from my ingredients, as a poet coaxes mood and meaning from his words. And then there is the writing itself. Like a poem, a recipe should be clear and precise and ordered. Nothing stray.”

Eliza is credited as the pioneer of modern cookery books because she was the first to list ingredients separately from the methodology, and to provide precise quantities of ingredients. She could also be said to have pioneered the genre of ‘food writing’, by combining instruction with description. Foodies should enjoy Eliza’s poetic depictions of scents and tastes, though the fare of the 1800’s, which relied heavily on game and foraged foods, may sound quite unusual. A handful of Eliza’s ‘reciepts’ are printed after the Notes section at the end of the book.

The Language of Food is an engaging historical novel, and I appreciated learning about the beginnings of the modern recipe book.½

The Language of Food by Annabel Abbs was a sublime read containing tantalising descriptions of food, and life below stairs during 1800s England. The Language of Food tells the untold story of Eliza Acton, a poet at heart and author of Britain's first cookery book for domestic readers. Modern Cookery for Private Families was published in 1845 and author Annabel Abbs has given the reader a fictionalised account of Eliza Acton's life.

Told from two perspectives, that of Eliza and a housemaid by the name Ann Kirby, the reader is soon swept into a world where the kitchen is the centre of the household.

"And it seems to me that the kitchen, with its natural intimacy, is more conducive to friendship and love than any other room in the house. The steady indeterminate pattern of days spent there, the heady unforgettable smells, the warmth and succour of its confined space." Page 317

Female agency is a strong theme throughout the book, not surprising given the period and our two lead characters, but I celebrated the manner in which both characters seemed to follow their calling despite feelings of obligation and family responsibility laying elsewhere.

Eliza Acton was a poet in real life and the author has spared no effort in imagining the world of food, spices and cooking through the eyes of a poet and a woman who didn't even know how to boil an egg when she first ventured into a kitchen.

The writing is deliciously suggestive but also funny on occasion, as in this observation from Ann Kirby early on in the novel:

"Mrs Thorpe has a bosom so ample you could trot a mouse on it." Page 43

Modern Cookery for Private Families was the first cookery book to provide a detailed list of ingredients, precise quantities and cooking times for each recipe in a format we still follow today. Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management was published in 1861 well after Eliza Acton's and it is now known that Mrs Beeton plagiarised hundreds of Acton's recipes for the collection. Not only that, but Mrs Beeton stole recipes from other cookery books as well, and knowing that now, I wish she wasn't held in such high esteem. A pox on her book!

The Language of Food by Annabel Abbs is definitely a book to savour, but be prepared to salivate as you visualise and imagine the dishes being tested, prepared and devoured. Abbs provides phrases to roll around your tongue and plenty of description so you can immerse yourself in the sensual writing and imagine yourself in the character's shoes. I particularly related to Ann Kirby, and enjoyed this section describing the first three days of her employment by Miss Eliza Acton:

"For three days, Miss Eliza gives me instructions and I follow them to the letter. I scrape the sugar from its loaf, scrub the vegetables of mud and insects, scour the sink with sand and spread the tea leaves for drying. I fetch water, and firewood, and fish from the market. I slice and sift and grate and pluck. I stoke and sweep and black the range. I wash and dry and polish. And when I get a second to myself, I eat. I eat pie crusts burnt to a crisp and fit only for the pig. I drink cream that has curdled and is intended for the cat. I steal spoonfuls of over-salted sauces so that my tongue withers in my mouth. I eat the leftovers and lick the cooking spoons and even wipe my tongue around the batter basin. I cannot help myself for my insides are gnawed half to death from years of hunger and I've never seen so much food." Pages 83-84

I always know I'm reading a great book when I want to recommend it to friends before I've even finished it and that was certainly the case here. The Language of Food by Annabel Abbs is an absorbing historical fiction novel for those who love the poetry of food, the magic of a kitchen and anything to do with cooking, baking, chopping, saucing, stirring or tasting food. Highly recommended!

* Copy courtesy of Simon & Schuster *

This is my perfect book: it’s a memoir blended with biographies about creative women all based around a specific topic (here it’s walking). All of this is my jam, and I loved learning about women I wasn’t familiar with previously; I’m looking forward to digging into the bibliography since I’d only heard about four of the seven women featured.

I can see how the author went on to write another book about walking as she truly showed it to me in a new light by featuring its extreme importance for her and these women. I loved that all the women were creators (authors and artists), and I want to immerse myself more with them as well as head out the door and walk more too.

The Language of Food takes a real-life historical figure in Eliza Acton and fictionalises her story of creating a cookbook. You may think that is nothing out of the ordinary, but in 1830s London, it was a big deal. Cookbooks were few and far between, and rarely gave set quantities or even a list of ingredients. (No wonder that the cooking was done by only a few women, and fancy French chefs). Eliza hadn’t even cooked before beginning work on her cookbook – as a lady, it wasn’t the done thing to go to the kitchens. But Eliza’s family has come upon hard times, and even though she dreams of have more of her poetry published, she’s realistic. So she sets up in her family’s boarding house where she will do all the cooking with the aid of her maid and assistant Ann Kirby.

Ann is new to being a servant and mourning the forced separation of her own family. But with Eliza, her senses come alive, tasting new flavours and learning how to perfect a range of dishes. Soon Ann’s skills rival Eliza’s, but the pair get along very well. During their time testing and refining recipes, there are various events, both big and small affecting their lives. Ann finds out the truth about her family, while Eliza is pressured to marry to save the family fortunes. Overall, it’s a gentle novel without huge conflicts or drama, just two women making their way through life as best they can. Perhaps some more drama would have made the story the edge of your seat material, but you can’t really fake history when the characters are real people too.

The story is easy to read, told in alternate first-person chapters between Eliza and Ann. Their differences but more so their similarities are highlighted as the story goes on. They are both smart women, whom society will not allow to reach to their full potential. Labelled as a spinster, or poor, or mad, it is near impossible for them to make their presence known. Luckily, they both love cooking and even though Ann is not mentioned in Eliza’s eventual cookbook, their legacy lies on the page, right down to the recipe format we know today. It’s a well-researched novel that is both informative about history and entertaining too.

Thank you to Simon & Schuster for the ARC. My review is honest.

http://samstillreading.wordpress.com½

This was a great read with all sorts of cool information that the author then based specific walks around. It’s completely UK-based, so some of it was dreamily impossible where I live (low desert of the Southwest) but still fun to learn about. I know that walking truly helped my back issues, and I’m so glad I have my dog to walk many times per day.½

'A recipe can be as beautiful as a poem' and indeed Annabel Abbs' writing and her portrayal of two strong women in The Language of Food is as beautiful as anything I've ever read.

I feel like I should have heard of Eliza Acton but for me her contribution to cookery writing was lost in the mists of time…until now. I'm so pleased to have read this book and to have been able to find out more about this remarkable woman, who was ahead of her time.

Eliza was a published poet with a second collection already prepared when she was told by a prospective publisher that what they really needed from her was a cookery book. She was no cook and a woman of her status would not expect to spend any time in the kitchen, but she rose to the challenge with the help of a young maid by the name of Ann Kirby. There is so much that is wonderful about this book and one of the things that stood out was the unexpected friendship and companionship that builds between the two women. There is a perfect blend of fact and fiction (not much was known about Ann) and whilst Eliza is based on many known facts, Annabel Abbs has weaved her narrative around them without compromising on good storytelling.

The book that Eliza eventually wrote was trailblazing and I loved every word that described the food and the way it was prepared and cooked (maybe with the exception of the eel!). There is such delight in the characters' accomplishments and although I found myself wishing for scratch and sniff pages, Abbs does a tremendous job at illustrating the feelings, sounds and smells of the kitchen through her written words.

This is not just a story of cookery writing though, but also one of the constraints placed on women in the 19th century, and the contrast between the poor and those who had a higher place in society. In alternating chapters from each woman's point of view we are able to see each battle with their own place and status. I think The Language of Food is an outstanding book, staying faithful to the truth whilst giving the reader a truly absorbing read. It is beautiful inside and out and will be one of my favourite reads of the year.

This dual-perspective historical fiction features two women beginning a journey in food appreciation, a solid friendship, and independence during a time of strict societal rules restrictions. Each women comes from different social classes and faced adversity in different ways. This book really shows how cookbook compilations came about and how one's aspirations are shaped during the Victorian period. It brings a tasteful depiction of a historical figure with little information known. It also makes a fictional prediction of the assistant that helped the historical figure and a perspective that brings a broader view in this little tidbit of history. Though as a personal preference I would have liked some more details in some parts of the story. Overall it's definitely an interesting read.

**Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the review copy. All opinions and thoughts in the review are my own.**

Reading this was as satisfying as watching a good cooking show because it had me imagining the flavor of all the delicious sounding food it described. Also, the historical characters Eliza Acton, author of the first modern English cookery book (cookbook to us in the US), and her assistant Ann Kirby were fascinating to read about. Their story explored the friendship between two women from very different backgrounds working together with a common goal.
This was the kind of historical fiction that immerses you in the period it portrays and leaves you with an appreciation for the historical figures whose influence is still felt in the world of today. It ended with sample recipes and an afterward with notes about the setting and events along with several short biographies of the supporting characters.

. Disclosure: I received a copy to review from Goodreads Giveaways.

Thanks to William Morrow & Co. for a free ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Eliza Acton is an aspiring Victorian poet whose family has fallen on hard times. The publisher has rejected her latest poetry manuscript and told her to write a "cookery book" instead. When young Ann Kirby comes to work as a maidservant in Eliza's boardinghouse, the two women bond over a love of food and cooking while writing a precise and poetic book of recipes-and keeping shocking family secrets from each other.

The book switches back and forth between the brilliant Eliza and spunky Ann, each a rebel in her own way, each torn between ambition and family obligations and up against Victorian norms of womanhood.

With a lively writing style and two engaging characters, this mouth-watering novel is a delight from beginning to end. I wanted to keep reading until the cookbook came out and Eliza and Ann celebrated success as authors together, because the book definitely did not feel like 400 pages.

This was an interesting story. I really enjoyed reading about the experimentation with recipes and the creation of the cookbook. I had expected more of that. I thought this book would celebrate the joy of food and cooking, but the amount of parental drama gave the book an overall serious tone.

Also, I can't agree that this is a book about friendship. While Miss Eliza may have treated Ann better than most people treated their servants, I didn't feel she treated Ann as a friend. At times she selfishly used Ann, and she never confided in her.

Overall, this was an interesting read, just not what I was expecting.

Thank you to NetGalley and the Book Club Girls for the early read.

A moving, fascinating look at the daughter of James Joyce. We are soon drawn in the complex world of this young lady that dreams of being a dancer but lives under the pressure of her parents. Fan of Paula McLain will enjoy the detail of this book and the world that the Joyces lived in.

Devo ammettere che l'inizio è ottimo: l'autrice ha una buona penna, l'analisi psicologica è ben fatta, i personaggi apparivano interessanti, lo sfondo culturale intrigante. E poi - più o meno dalla comparsa di Lawrence - è peggiorato tutto. Il libro è diventato noioso, troppo lungo, inutilmente prolisso, la caratterizzazione può essere riassunta in "se non vi piace Frieda siete dei superficiali", e, soprattutto, ho trovato una vera e propria apoteosi delle relazioni abusive.
Non ho mai letto Lawrence, quindi chissà, il problema è mio, ma l'impressione di lui che ho ricavato da questo romanzo è di un idiota presuntuoso incapace di scrivere. La narrazione prova disperatamente a convincerci della genialità di quest'uomo e del suo ruolo di fondamentale importanza nella letteratura mondiale, ma diciamo la verità - non credo siano in molti nel 2020 desiderosi di leggere i suoi romanzi; non è che uno scrittore mediocre che la storia ha cancellato. Processo inevitabile, ma forse rappresentarlo come il puù grande, innovatore, originale autore di tutti i tempi è un po' ridicolo.
Su Frieda ho poco da dire, perché è completamente priva di personalità. Lei è un'irritantissima Mary Sue, un'Anna Karenina che non ci ha creduto abbastanza, è bellissima e perfetta e con lei non ci sono mezze misure, o tutti la amano o tutti la odiano. All'autrice non è ben chiara la regola dello "show, don't tell": ci ripete che Frieda è speciale, audace, coraggiosa, diversa, più matura delle sue sorelle, ma niente di tutto ciò ci viene mostrato, e non basta dire ai lettori che un personaggio è fatto in un certo modo se poi non sei in grado di dimostrarlo. Mi dispiace molto scrivere questo, perché la vera Frieda è un personaggio estremamente affascinante, ma questa eroina di lei non ha nulla. La sua relazione con Lawrence è abusiva e francamente spaventosa; sì, è una rappresentazione accurata del loro effettivo rapporto, ma ciò non toglie che qui venga giustificata in nome del vero amore e dell'arte e dell'ispirazione letteraria. Aberrante.
Per quanto riguarda lo stile, alcuni dettagli tecnici e stilistici sono molto carini, per esempio il contrasto tra il successo letterario di Ernest e i reiterati fallimenti di Lawrence, ma più andavo avanti più mi sembrava artefatto, come se l'autrice si stesse sforzando di sembrare poetica e profonda, riuscendoci solo in parte. Il romanzo è raccontato dal punto di vista di Frieda, del marito e dei figli maggiori, ma la protagonista è talmente poco sviluppata che i suoi POV risultano eccessivi e pesanti. I personaggi secondari sono decisamente più fascinosi, ma scompaiono sullo sfondo per dare più spazio a lei, scelta che rallenta molto il ritmo del romanzo.
Una vera delusione.

Lucia Joyce fühlt sich in Paris sehr wohl. Sie hat schon an verschiedenen Orten gelebt, aber Paris wird so etwas wie ihre Heimat. Als talentierte Tänzerin hätte sie alle Chancen Karriere zu machen, doch ihre Familie lässt ihr keine Freiheiten. Als Sie Samuel Beckett begegnet und sich in ihn verliebt, hofft sie, dass eine Ehe mit ihm sie endlich von ihrer Familie wegbringt und sie ihren Weg gehen kann. Doch wieder legen die Eltern ihr Steine in den Weg.
Es ist eine fesselnde und traurige Geschichte, die uns Annabel Abbs hier erzählt. Lucias Leben wird von anderen bestimmt. Der Vater benutzt sie als seine Muse, die Mutter ist eine unangenehme Person, so dass Lucia zu ihr kein inniges Verhältnis hat und ihr Bruder Giorgio, den sie sehr liebt, verändert sich auch auf eine unangenehme Art. Die Männer der Familie schmeißen mit dem Geld nur so um sich und die Familie lässt sich bedenkenlos von großzügigen Gönnern finanzieren. Lucia möchte aus diesen Verhältnissen heraus und ihr Leben nach eigenen Wünschen gestalten. Aber sie widersetzt sich nicht und lässt ergeben anderen über sich bestimmen. Sie setzt ihre Hoffnungen auf ihre große Liebe Samuel Beckett, doch der verehrt James Joyce und wagt es daher nicht sich an Lucias Seite zu stellen.
Lucia Joyce suchte Hilfe bei Dr. Carl Jung. Aber die Aufzeichnungen wurden vernichtet. So weiß man nicht besonders viel über die junge Frau. Aber der Autorin ist es gelungen, eine Geschichte um Lucia zu erzählen, die authentisch ist und die einem ans Herz geht.
Sehr gut hat mir auch die Beschreibung des pulsierende Lebens in Paris gefallen.
Ich kann diesen intensiven Roman nur empfehlen.

Zurich, 1934. Lucia Joyce, de 27 años, cuenta lo que ha sido su vida al Doctor Carl Jung, el más reputado psicoanalista de su tiempo, al que ha recurrido el padre de Lucia, James Joyce, para encontrar remedio al devastado estado psíquico de su única hija. En las tensas sesiones, Lucia recuerda su pasión por la danza, el público que la aclamaba en los más reputados teatros de París. Pero también la imposibilidad de seguir su carrera atrapada en el amor destructivo de su padre, que la tenía por su musa, y en la fatal atracción por uno de los protegidos del padre, Samuel Beckett, y por su profesor de dibujo, Alexander Calder. Así se conforma el retrato de una mujer joven cuya pasión por la vida, y la desesperación en la que se hunde cuando no puede seguir el camino que le marca su talento, quedan poderosamente expresados en esta novela, que es a la vez el retrato íntimo de la familia Joyce y del París de los años veinte y treinta, uno de los mayores momentos creativos de la historia contemporánea