The book starts with someone (presumably the murderer) burying victim in the woods, then jumps forward 3 years and follows story of Lizzie, who's married to Dina, who is building a terrace of houses on the edge of the Clifton gorge in Bristol. This is 1790s and war with France is on the horizon so there is a lot of uncertainty in the market and no-one wants to buy any of the houses so Dina is in deep financial trouble.

Good grief this was a drudge. It was so dull and dreary. Dina acts very peculiarly - at one time passionately loving to Lizzie, other times cruel, with no obvious reason (one presumes HE was the murderer and the victim was his first wife, and he is racked with guilt/fear, although by 80% through the book it's not certain yet) Every so often something happens - e.g. Lizzie's mother has a baby; dies; Dina's first wife's godmother turns up; a poet who's some kind of political revolutionary appears and asks Lizzie to elope with him - and you think "aha, the plot must coalesce around this!" but nothing obvious comes of it and you're left wondering "what was that for?"

Through the book I was thinking "at some stage, something will happen that makes everything else all of a sudden appear in a different light and seem interesting and exciting" but at 80% through I'm gave up on that, thinking that if something does happen it won't make up for the tedium of what's brought us there.

In the event, nothing else happened. There's an afterword from author says she wrote it when she was very ill (terminally?) and thinks it’s one of her best and that she wanted to focus on people from history who we’ve forgotten. But it was really weak, maybe she’d lost her critical faculties. Can't help feeling people have been over-generous in their praise of this book because she wrote it when she was so ill.

Completed : 27-Aug-2019