Tag Archives: Tania Crosse

CARIADS’ CHOICE: SEPTEMBER BOOK REVIEWS

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Eva Glyn’s The Olive Grove, reviewed by Kitty Wilson

The Olive Grove is also the story of Antonia, a middle-aged woman who has left an unhealthy love affair and whose daughter is of an age where she needs to become more independent. With no job, no relationship and the understanding she needs to make space for her daughter to grow, Antonia finds herself working for Damir and together the two of them help each other heal, forge a future and learn to believe in themselves.

Eva Glyn writes with empathy and compassion about Damir and her exploration of the conflict in Croatia reminds us powerfully of the atrocities of a war that was so close to home and the long-term effects war has on a community, generations after the fighting has stopped.

It is a beautiful story and Eva Glyn’s powerful prose creates the most magical setting. As I read, I was transported to another country and loved how all of my senses were stimulated by the evocative descriptive writing. A fabulous book that I am more than happy to recommend.

 

Tania Crosse’s Nobody’s Girl, reviewed by Jane Cable

I do love a saga and Tania Crosse had been recommended by so many people, when I wanted a reliable book to read I chose one of hers. I wasn’t disappointed. Nobody’s Girl charts the stories of two women in 1930s Kent, one a teenage farmer’s daughter and the other the childless wife of a well-to-do businessman. They meet in tragic circumstances and a rich and fascinating story unfolds.

Despite being true to its time the main characters are not stereotypical, and that and a strong supporting cast brings this novel alive. The surprises are not so much in what happens, but in how the characters react and grow, and I would highly recommend this book. I was also very pleased to discover there is a sequel, A Place to Call Home.

 

Freya Kennedy’s The Hopes and Dreams of Libby Quinn, reviewed by Carol Thomas

 There’s lots to like about this lovely story. It was an uplifting, enjoyable read. The depth of Libby’s feelings for her grandad Ernie is evident in the affection with which she recalls her memories of him and her desire to realise his dreams. The characters were all likeable, and the community setting of Ivy Lane made it a cuddle of a book. The male lead, Noah, is portrayed well, and I could feel the growing affection between him and Libby. I frequently smiled as I read and even shed a tear. Overall, it’s a great read.

 

Sarah Edghill’s A Thousand Tiny Disappointments, review by Jan Baynham

A poignant and emotional read!

A Thousand Tiny Disappointments takes you on an emotional roller coaster of a journey dealing with grief, loss and a building of self-esteem. The title intrigued me and as I read further into the story, it became clear how apt it was. It’s a hard read at times; you feel for the main character, Martha, as she becomes physically and mentally exhausted by the demands put upon her. The relationship with her son, Joe, is beautifully described. The author creates authentic, multi-layered characters. The role of women as portrayed in both the characters of Martha and Alice as well as Martha’s dilemma to do the right thing are two of a number of themes explored in the novel, resulting in a thought-provoking read. I particularly liked the uplifting ending that made this a satisfying and enjoyable novel. Highly recommended.

 

 

 

 

SISTER SCRIBES: SUSANNA BAVIN ON CREATING A SENSE OF TIME

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In my previous article for Frost, I celebrated two novels, A Mother’s Secret and The Italian House, which are notable for their wonderful sense of place. In these stories, the authors, respectively Jan Baynham and Teresa Crane, created their settings so evocatively that they produced books of the type that make readers say, ‘It made me feel I was there.’

This time, I’m writing about novels that have a particular depth and interest thanks to the attention paid to the historical detail. Part of the authors’ skill in this is the way each of them has woven the details into the narrative with a deft touch. Their historical details are never popped in just for the sake of it, but always to enrich the story.

The first book is A Borrowed Past by Juliette Lawson, a clever and increasingly intriguing family mystery set in the Victorian era. A strong narrative is combined with  believable dialogue and a lively mixture of characters, not all of whom are what they seem. Add to this the many tiny details of life at the time and the result is an engrossing read.

Of one historical aspect of the book, Juliette says: “ Class distinctions were strong. Well-off families paid pew rents to reserve their seats in church (you can still see the brass name-card holders) and ran the Local Board to keep the village well-ordered. Children in poorer families were sent into service at a young age or they became mini-entrepreneurs, doing little jobs around the village for a few coins: blowing the bellows for the church organ, delivering meat for the butcher, carrying pails of sea water to the bath houses for visitors to bathe in, or baiting hooks on fishing trips.”

The other book I’ve chosen is the utterly wonderful The Gunpowder Girl (which was originally published as Cherrybrook Rose and A Bouquet of Thorns) by Tania Crosse. This book could just as easily have appeared in my previous blog about stories with a strong sense of place, but it also has its position here, thanks to the author’s characteristic attention to research. Tania Crosse has created an absorbing story laced with powerful themes, a relatable heroine and a gripping plot.

Tania says: “The rugged, savage beauty of Dartmoor is inspirational enough in itself, but its secret history has provided the basis for so many of my novels. In the case of The Gunpowder Girl, the discovery of the ruins of the 19th century Cherrybrook Gunpowder Mills drove me to write a story to illustrate what it would have been like for a beautiful, intelligent young woman to live at this remote, unforgiving location. The other element in the book, still very much in evidence and currently still in use, are the forbidding buildings of Dartmoor Prison. In Victorian times, life there could be hell, not just for the inmates – some of whom were guilty of what today would be considered relatively minor offences – but also for the prison warders and their families who were forced to live in the isolated and exposed prison settlement of Princetown.”

Both of these books drew me into their world. The stories are page-turners in which the characters face secrets and tragedy and both Juliette and Tania have have sprinkled historical details into their narratives in such a way as to make their books come alive.

 

 

 

 

SISTER SCRIBES GUEST: TANIA CROSSE ON AN AWARD WINNING SAGA

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Susanna invites Tania Crosse to talk about winning the first ever Saga of the Year award from the Romantic Novelists’ Association as it celebrates its Diamond Anniversary

I was utterly thrilled when I learnt at Christmas that The Street of Broken Dreams had been shortlisted for the new saga category in the RNA’s major annual awards. With the other contenders, Lesley Eames, Jean Fullerton, Rosie Goodwin and Kate Thompson being such wonderful writers, I went to the ceremony in London with no expectations, just looking forward to a glittering evening out. So when my name was read out as the winner, I was totally overwhelmed. I managed to gabble a few incoherent words up on the podium, but I must confess, it was all a bit of a blur at the time.

It really is fantastic that this new saga award has come into existence. It remains an enormously popular genre, and the quality of so many of the brilliant sagas available, covering a huge range of different topics, deserves such recognition. I feel honoured that as the first ever recipient of this award, I can represent saga lovers everywhere.

Tania (left) with agent Broo Doherty

So what is considered ‘saga’? That is a good question, so here is my interpretation. Whatever length of time the story spans, the entire action must take place at least fifty years in the past. Secondly, the actual romance is not necessarily the main focus of the book. Characters must fight their way through extreme adversity, often – though by no means always – generated by the historical circumstances of the period, with the romance intertwined within it. Sagas are normally gritty, hard-hitting stories illustrating strong themes.

Like all sagas, The Street of Broken Dreams is a tale of spirit, warmth, courage and heart, and has been described as ‘searing emotional drama’ and as being ‘beautifully compelling and poignant’. It’s 1945 and WW2 is drawing to a close. But the consequences of war can be far reaching. Can dancer Cissie ever recover from the brutal night back in 1944 that destroyed her life? Will it take the love of a good man or the guilt and self-sacrifice of a stranger from across the sea to bring her peace? Does Mildred really know the man to whom she so hastily became engaged before he went off to war? Will she able to face the tearing conflict of loyalty on his return?  Can golden-hearted Eva, matriarch of the street and linchpin of the story, help them unite against the future?

I actually lived in Banbury Street, the street of the title, as a small girl, so writing the book brought back many childhood memories. Cissie’s story was inspired by an ‘encounter’ my mother experienced during the blackout, though fortunately it had a different outcome and my mother was unharmed. During the war, my father served in submarines in the Far East, which gave me the idea for Mildred’s story. Dance has been a lifetime passion of mine, and my ballet mistress with whom I kept in contact all her life, told me about her experiences as a dancer in wartime repertory, and this became the Romaine Theatre Company in the book.

So I think you can appreciate that this award means so much to me, not just in itself, but because so much of myself was poured into the book. As my fourteenth published novel, it feels like a lifetime achievement and I thank from the bottom of my heart the Romantic Novelists’ Association and the readers and judges who put me on the podium.

SISTER SCRIBES: SUSANNA BAVIN ON WHY TALES OF THE UNEXPECTED ARE SO UNUSUAL AND SO SATISFYING

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How many of you out there remember watching Roald Dahl’s Tales of the Unexpected back in the 1970s? Or, if you don’t remember any of the programmes themselves, I bet you remember the opening credits, with the silhouette of the girl dancing in front of what I imagine was a psychedelic background. I can’t be sure about the psychedelic bit, because our telly was black-and-white. I can recall only one of the stories, which featured Susan George as a housewife who cooked a joint of meat . . . and if you don’t know the significance of this, I’m not going to tell you. I’ll just say the story had a very clever twist at the end.

We all enjoy a good plot-twist, don’t we? One of the things about being an experienced reader is that it is rare to be truly surprised by something that happens in a book – though I want to make it clear that this in no way lessens the enjoyment of reading it. It is particularly true for readers of genre fiction, where certain conventions and expectations exist within whatever type of story it is. I once wrote a blog called A Promise Between Friends, which was about the ‘contract’ between the author of genre fiction and the reader. The author writes a stirring story within the conventions and the reader meets the writer halfway. Even so, a good plot-twist is always welcome.

Take Hope at Holly Cottage by saga writer Tania Crosse. The idea of the husband or father drinking his wages and then knocking his wife around is well-known to readers of sagas and historicals, but Tania Crosse takes this familiar idea and gives it a new lease of life. Yes, Anna’s dad has bouts of violence, but the reason behind them is one I haven’t come across in a saga before and it adds extra depth to the tragic dynamics of the family situation. After packing the opening chapters with drama and emotion, Tania Crosse then takes the heroine off into a completely new place for the next part of her story, changing not only the setting but also the atmosphere, and giving Anna something new to strive for.

And if you have read Lizzie of Langley Street by Carol Rivers, then you need look no further than its sequel, The Fight for Lizzie Flowers, for a truly unexpected beginning. The first book ends in just the way the reader hopes it will, but the expectations that this creates for what will happen in book 2 are decisively blown to bits in the very first chapter of The Fight for Lizzie Flowers, which opens the continuation of Lizzie’s story in a thoroughly unexpected manner, paving the way for a dramatic and compelling story in which Lizzie – and the reader – can take nothing for granted. As with every Carol Rivers saga, there is a pacey story with well-drawn characters and a strong sense of family feeling.

I was going to end this blog by saying something along the lines of how good it would be if we could have more breath-taking plot-twists, but now I’m wondering whether that might result in too much of a good thing. After all, one of the reasons we all admire a devious plot-twist is because it’s unusual. And perhaps that’s the way it should stay – as a special treat in the occasional book.