A melodrama of lost children, switched heirs, missionaries and photographers set in an unflinchingly-realised Victorian era. Not bad. Not great either, but readable. ( )

Picture the scene: a stormy evening in the 1870s. A hush descends at Fainhope Hall as the duchess goes into labour - will she be delivered of a male baby who will continue the Fainhope line? A boy is indeed born to the duchess, but a sickly one - and on that night, in an attic bedroom, an illegitimate, but healthy son is also born to the governess. Only four people are party to this secret, and to the duchess's shocking decision, which will shape all their destinies. Fixing Shadows is a novel about the twilight of the aristocracy, the birth of photography and the unstoppable rise of London, with an unforgettable cast of scheming aristos, gossiping servants and cockneys with hearts of gold.

From the description above this book sounded really good. I have to say however that I have given up after about 70 pages. Something just did not click with this book and I lost all interest in it. Due to me having a very big pile of books to read and me not being able to stop obtaining them I feel that if I am not interested, stop, and start another. ( )

When I started to read this I was impressed by the author's limpid style: long, winding, beautifully constructed sentences, and sharp imagery. But this impression soon palled. Everything seemed to happen once removed, and in slow motion; there was no immediacy despite the use of present continuous, or perhaps because of it. The characters struck me, not as real people but highly-drawn and analysed laboratory specimens with no personality, character, or life at all. I found no real sympathy in it but much sympathetic posturing, all conventionally and tediously twenty-first century. I'm afraid I'm completely out of sympathy with authors judging the attitudes of previous generations by our own standards, mores, and lights. Perhaps this prejudices me against this author, but the exercise seems to me pointless and precious.

I became so irritated that, unusually for me, after doggedly persevering for about 200 pages, I gave it up. ( )