Over the holidays, I discovered this used book in our local bookstore and decided to read it. This is the kind of story one can call delightful. It was written by Edith Nesbit who wrote under the pen name E. Nesbit. Her biography says: “She was a mischievous, tomboyish child who grew into an unconventional adult. With her husband, Hubert Bland, she was one of the founder members of the socialist Fabian Society; their household became a centre of the socialist and literary circles of the time. The chaos of their Bohemian home . . . was regularly increased by the presence of their children and numerous friends, among whom were George Bernard Shaw and H.G. Wells.
Like Mrs. Barnstable, the mother of The Railway Children, Edith was a published writer, and a good one. This Puffin Classic (first published in 1906 and this edition republished in 1994) has several full pages of pen and ink sketches that are remarkable. The writing voice reminded me of C. S. Lewis and the children of the Pevensies. Since the Chronicles of Narnia weren’t published until the 1950s, I can’t help but wonder if Lewis read and liked Nesbit’s books. Perhaps some of the Railway Children adventures rubbed off on him.
The three children: Roberta (Bobbie) who turns twelve, Phyllis who seems to be around eight years old, and Peter who turns ten, have all sorts of adventures after their father mysteriously disappears and they have to move from London into the countryside. They are suddenly impoverished, so their mother spends long hours writing and selling stories in order to make ends meet. With all kinds of free time at Three Chimneys, their new cottage, the children make friends with the locals—particularly Perks the Porter and the Station Master. They also befriend a wealthy and wise old gentleman who regularly rides the train and helps them solve the mystery of their father.
Things I loved about this story:
The trains of course. Who doesn’t love the old fashioned “Harry Potter” trains winding their way through the English countryside.
The innocence of it all. The children were allowed to roam free and get into mischief, as I did as a kid. This was a time in which a man could kiss a young girl on the cheek in the spirit of friendship and gratitude and not be maligned for it.
The writing, so clear, detailed, and descriptive.
“There was a cake on the table covered with white sugar, with ‘Dear Bobbie’ on it in pink sweets, and there were buns and jam; but the nicest thing was that the big table was almost covered with flowers — wall-flowers were laid all round the tea-tray — there was a ring of forget-me-nots round each plate. The cake had a wreath of white lilac round it, and in the middle was something that looked like a pattern all done with single blooms of lilac or wallflower or laburnum” (73).
The strength of character in all whom we meet.
Frank discussions about the differences between boys and girls, and corrections made with regard to stereotypical statements. (The doctor is somewhat old fashioned.)
A film of this particular story was produced in 1970 and the trailer seems quite true to the book. Apparently, the children returned recently in another film: The Railway Children Return (2022). This one concerns a different group of children and is set in 1944, when the children are evacuated from Manchester to East Yorkshire because of the bombings.
Thank you, Miss Nesbit for bringing your stories to the world.
Please no. This might well be my favourite Dr. Ruth Galloway mystery. Book number fifteen in a succession that spans twenty years of the characters’ lives, also reads as if it may be the last. The way things land between Dr. Ruth and DCI Nelson both romantically and professionally, leads them on a new trajectory and Griffiths confirms, it is the last book “for now.” I can’t imagine what it’s like for her to say goodbye to these characters.
When the last remains of Emily Pickering, a young Cambridge archaeology student who disappeared in 2002, are discovered walled up in a café, Ruth is called in to investigate. She gets involved, though she’s busy at UNN, her own university, as the archaeology department for which she is the head is about to be closed down. Naturally DCI Nelson is involved as well as the charming DCI Clough, as it’s happened on his patch. Then our old friend, Cathbad, who nearly died in book fourteen and is suffering from long Covid disappears, leaving everyone devastated. The usual players are involved, along with Ruth’s new sister Zoe, and there’s even an unexpected and timely cameo by an old victim.
Ruth and Nelson struggle with the intricacies of their longtime relationship, given that it’s coming around to Father’s Day and he has two families: the first who seem to take precedence and the second, Ruth and their daughter Kate, who get Nelson time when he’s willing and able. I found myself wanting to bat them both upside the head a few times. Nelson can be thoughtless and Ruth indifferent. The combination leads to romantic stasis, which is why old David, her colleague at UNN archaeology thinks he has a shot.
I think what really draws me to this series besides the archaeological and mythological references are the small towns and cities in the north and east of England, some of which I’d like to visit because of Griffiths’s descriptions. Norfolk, where Ruth lives on the Saltmarsh and King’s Lynn which looks particularly charming, Lincoln and Durham; as well as Blackpool, a northwest coast town billed the UK’s favourite playground. Grimes Graves, a Neolithic flint mine is a creepy setting in this story. I’ll take a pass on climbing down one of those shafts, even though Griffiths’s made the decent herself.
One day, I’d like to begin at the beginning and reread the whole series in order. Why hasn’t this series been picked up for TV yet? Don’t you think it’s about time?
If you’re a fan of British cozy mystery author Elly Griffiths, you’ll know that she’s been writing one Ruth Galloway archaeological mystery each year for over a decade. This is book fourteen. When the pandemic hit, she had to make a decision. Do I set this story in the current reality or not? It’s a decision many authors faced and will continue to face as we move through history. As no-nonsense as Ruth, Griffiths decided to not only to set it during the pandemic but to make it a kind of homage to plagues and isolation. I admit that I found bits triggering at times as I followed the characters through the horror and hassle of the opening weeks of the plague in Britain, February 2020.
Ten-year-old Kate is home, bored, doing school online. Nelson’s wife and young son are away looking after her mother. There are pandemic references: the evening clanging cheer to front-line workers, masking or not, grocery cues, empty shelves and the stocking of staples including toilet paper, lockdown laws, social distancing, two-metre walks out-of-doors, office staff on rotation and working from home, learning to Zoom, teaching from home, loved ones taken away to hospital and the grief of those quarantined and left behind who are not permitted to visit, references to plagues past, and the feeling of never being able to escape the fear and isolation it conjures.
Griffith’s strength is her ability to weave in these facts in a kind of matter-of-fact way, so they never overpower the mystery, which concerns healthy women who appear to be suddenly committing suicide. One woman is even found in her bedroom with the door locked from the outside.
Griffiths’ books are always gently packed with tidbits and meaningful symbols. The title signifies, not only the isolation of plagues in general, but how our “killer” operates, locking victims in total darkness. As is always the case, Nelson and Ruth end up tangled in dangerous climatic scenes of discovery.
Nelson, who’s living alone while his wife’s away, comes calling on Ruth until his grown daughter arrives home, needs her daddy, and he goes running off. That’s Nelson, protector of all and burly man of guilt. Ruth takes it all in her stride, even the discovery of her mother’s lifelong secret—a secret that will come to affect her present moment in a big way.
One thing that bothered me: I came away not understanding the killer’s motivation. He had the means and opportunity but the motive seemed lacking. Perhaps I missed something.
One thing I loved: the “Who’s Who” character pages at the end of the book. My favourite character is Cathbad and, true to form, the druid shaman embraces the pandemic by offering Zoom yoga classes every morning to his children and friends.
Don’t let the pandemic setting deter you. Just be aware that if you start fretting about going out in public, you’re likely triggered. We live in a different time now and this too shall pass.
Can you believe it? I found this book sitting on the very end of the free shelf at my local library this morning. I’d checked it out and returned it last week, which means, that I was the last person to read it. How do libraries decide what ends up in the slush pile? I don’t understand. I mean, this series is amazing. Blue’s story is the focus of book three–this book. I actually finished The Raven King, which is book four, and realized I’d forgotten to write anything about this book. So, it’s come back to me. You see how that works? It’s not that I don’t have anything to say about it; in fact, I was so tucked into the characters, I didn’t really realize what was happening plot-wise. Urban fantasy doesn’t really work like that. It’s more about characters and emotions. And these characters are some of the best characters you’ll ever meet. So, what do I remember about Blue Lily, Lily Blue?
-the illicit love between Blue and Gansey. Illicit only because Blue kind of had a hand-holding thing with Adam to begin with and, Gansey and Adam are best friends, and well, there’s a social rule being broken
-her funky home with her psychic mother and aunts
-something tasty evolving between Ronan and Adam
-a ton of angst occurring at Gansey’s political mansion in Washington, DC. This is not the best space for trailer-park-son-of-an-abusive-father Adam. Or maybe it is.
-the elusive Cabeswater . . . What the hell is it, anyway? And when they finally get there, will Gansey find his Immortal Welsh King? And why a Welsh King? Is this the orphaned child of a real mythological legend? Damn. I wish I’d thought of this.
-details of Gansey’s horrific hornet experience. Have you ever been bitten by vicious meat-eating hornets with giant stingers and long, wispy legs? I have. When I was seven or eight, I climbed into my father’s old black pick-up truck. We started rumbling down the road. The hornets had build a nest under the bench seat on my side. Before we hit Dixie and Finch, they flew up my pant legs. I went so ballistic, my father pulled over, dragged me out of the truck, and ripped off my pants. I was horrifically embarrassed—I mean, there I was standing on the side of the road in my white cotton undies in front of my father. Now, I think, how did he have the presence of mind to do that? I mean . . . child-eating hornets? Did he get stung?
-something horrible happening at 300 Fox Way which I will not divulge
-some nasty-pants villains developing, of course.
Do I recommend this series? Yes. In fact, it’s in my Amazon Wishlist. Just sayin’. There may come a day when I pass this hardcover on to a little library somewhere in the world. Oh Maggie, what have you done?
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