Reviews and Comments

I’m sure many readers would be aware of the courageous acts and legacy of Oscar Schindler; indeed, his story was made into a major film by Steven Spielberg in 1993 and brought not only Schindler’s story to light but also many aspects of the treatment of the Jewish people that many may not have been aware previously.

However, another important figure who history has sadly overlooked is that of Felix Kersten, and it is in The Man with Miraculous Hands (Les mains du miracle) that Joseph Kessel revived this astounding story, of the man who managed to influence the Reichsführer of the Schutzstaffel himself, Heinrich Himmler, thus saving the lives of thousands who would have otherwise perished in the Nazis notorious concentration camps.

Kersten’s story in The Man with Miraculous Hands presents more than just a historic account of his influence over Himmler, the man in charge of the Nazi camps, who having suffered with stomach cramps engaged Kersten’s services as a masseur to relieve him of his pain. In so doing, Himmler became swayed by Kersten into permitting the release of thousands of prisoners who would most certainly have seen the end of their lives in the camps. Kessel also presents a fascinating insight not only into the Nazi high command, but the weakness and gullibility of Himmler himself, who swayed under Kersten’s treatments, sometimes almost as much as he was influenced by Hitler, shows a side of the character of Himmler otherwise unknown.

However, this portrayal certainly doesn’t attempt to undermine the atrocities committed under Himmler’s command but highlights not only him as someone easily influenced but the levels of opportunism, mistrust and incompetence that permeated the Nazi regime.

However, Kersten’s story presents several problems, which are covered in the introduction by novelist Norman Ohler, in that Kersten’s account somewhat embellishes his actual accomplishments, and although these are certainly covered within the book, Kessel’s account certainly appears to have been mindful of these and attempts to convey Kersten’s story in a more factual way.

The Man with Miraculous Hands is certainly a truly fascinating account that everyone should be made aware, and with a new film in the works, then this story is one that will finally be told. Kersten’s achievements played a vital part in saving the lives of thousands during the Second World War, and here Joseph Kessel expertly relates this story in the ultimate page-turner.

Gothic literature would, I imagine for some, be a genre confined to the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, yet it has always continued, albeit predominantly in the background of the preponderance of mainstream fiction.  However, there has been a revival (of sorts) of this rather unique genre during the past few decades with some of the more well-known books being televised and even film versions being produced.  With this revival, some great new books have been published, including The Lodger, by Helen Scarlett, released in March 2023.

The Lodger is Helen Scarlett’s second novel (following The Deception of Harriet Fleet in 2020) who, once again, delivers a tale of mystery and intrigue set amid a gothic atmosphere set amid a period of mourning in 1919 following the First World War.

Following the story of Grace Armstrong, a journalist for a small paper, mourning the disappearance of her fiancé at the Battle of Ypres, and led on an investigation following the mysterious disappearance of the lodger residing at the family home.  What follows is a journey which will lead Grace to self-discoveries of her own past, the intrigue of a mystery from the past and her realisation of the ghostly presence of loved ones lost to the war.

One of the main attractions of The Lodger is not only a good story, but the characters are both identifiable and sympathetic, with Scarlett’s narrative making the story even more believable by making the characters, the scenes, and the story perfectly believable.  With this re-emergence of Gothic fiction's prevalence to the modern reader, The Lodger will sit firmly at the top of the genre, with great storytelling from an author at the top of her game. There is so much to The Lodger that I actually felt compelled to buy Helen Scarlett’s first novel!

One of the wonderful things about reading travel books is the enormity of reading the world around you, and a world that has since disappeared, each one a snapshot of every footstep humans have taken not just through recent history, but also a distant past in which many cultures still claim to embrace. The travellers we read of, taking us on their journeys have not only entertained and educated us but inspired generations of travellers to follow in their footsteps, and in On Travel and the Journey Through Life, author Barnaby Rogerson has collected a number of quotes from many of these writers to inspire new generations again.

On Travel and the Journey Through Life is lovingly collected and charmingly illustrated by artist Kate Boxer, which adds to the charm of this collection of inspirational quotes, wise words and tips for what you may encounter on your travels. On Travel and the Journey Through Life in many respects may look like a pocketbook that the reader can dip in and out of, but as any reader of travel books will know, each page can bring a new adventure and with a book of quotes from some of history’s more renown travellers, explorers and thinkers we can take bite-size chunks of their travels with us wherever we go.

On Travel and the Journey Through Life is a wonderful addition to Eland’s catalogue and one that many can identify with the quotes and passages contained within, and being released as part of Eland’s 40th anniversary, it only leaves me to say, Happy anniversary Eland!

One of the wonderful things about reading travel books is the enormity of reading the world around you, and a world that has since disappeared, each one a snapshot of every footstep humans have taken not just through recent history, but also a distant past in which many cultures still claim to embrace. The travellers we read of, taking us on their journeys have not only entertained and educated us but inspired generations of travellers to follow in their footsteps, and in On Travel and the Journey Through Life, author Barnaby Rogerson has collected a number of quotes from many of these writers to inspire new generations again.

On Travel and the Journey Through Life is lovingly collected and charmingly illustrated by artist Kate Boxer, which adds to the charm of this collection of inspirational quotes, wise words and tips for what you may encounter on your travels. On Travel and the Journey Through Life in many respects may look like a pocketbook that the reader can dip in and out of, but as any reader of travel books will know, each page can bring a new adventure and with a book of quotes from some of history’s more renown travellers, explorers and thinkers we can take bite-size chunks of their travels with us wherever we go.

On Travel and the Journey Through Life is a wonderful addition to Eland’s catalogue and one that many can identify with the quotes and passages contained within, and being released as part of Eland’s 40th anniversary, it only leaves me to say, Happy anniversary Eland!

When Smelling the Breezes: A Journey through the High Lebanon in 1957 by Ralph and Molly Izzard, arrived on my doorstep I wasn’t prepared for such an amazing journey, not just through the 300-mile walk along the spine of Lebanon, but the realisation, that at a time as recently as 1957 the world, and the Middle-East seemed so much more a safer and welcoming place. I love great travel books, and I often wonder if the late 1950s was our last period of true freedom where so many people picked up and set out to wander and explore the world around us before technology and politics interfered, making our world a much smaller place where we can explore from our armchairs.

Setting off from their home in Beirut with their four children, two donkeys and their friend-come-gardener/nursemaid Elias, the Izzards set off on a final adventure before leaving the province due to changes in political and employment climates complete with dinner service and glassware, which I did find amusing. Although, seemingly completely unaware of the burdens of the journey ahead the Izzards venture into the highlands of the Lebanese landscape, which not only encapsulates the Graeco-Roman worlds but embodies still the Abrahamic religions of the past few thousand years, and provides a fascinating insight into not just the culture of 1950s Lebanon, but also the culture and attitudes of those who lived there at that time. I was surprised at the generosity of the people the Izzards encountered on their journey, and also the uncanny ability to locate a coffee shop at every quarter. However, one of the most endearing characteristics of Smelling the Breezes is the ability to take the reader along with them on their journey, in many ways, I almost felt a part of the family a number of times throughout the book.

The afterword, written by author and Eland Publisher, Barnaby Rogerson, provides a fascinating insight into the lives of the Izzards, which adds a greater detail to the adventure they upon in Smelling the Breezes, and which in itself highlights the influential figures both Ralph and Molly were. Smelling the Breezes: A Journey through the High Lebanon in 1957 is a tale not just of a family journey, but an adventure exploring a world where all things meet. Truly remarkable!

I think I share a common conception, or misconception, of Afghanistan, a country that has always seemed distant, alien and mysterious to many of us, which is more likely to do with the climate there than anything else, yet, I find something in Afghanistan that is alluring, making me want to understand more than anything the people who live there. I doubt I’ll ever have the opportunity to travel there, so I’m very thankful that Three Women of Herat, by Veronica Doubleday, has been republished by Eland to intrigue a new generation of readers.

The media’s image of women in Afghanistan is one where women are, essentially, forced to disappear, subjected to some of the worst levels of oppression, but was it always so? For many in the west, Islam is very much an ‘alien’ religion that doesn’t seem to fit with much of the society we’ve created for ourselves, however, in Afghanistan prior to the soviet invasion it would appear that Afghanistan was a much more liberal and open place to be.

Travelling with her musician husband, Veronica Doubleday travelled to Afghanistan from 1973-1977 to study the local music traditions. Making friends with three very different families Three Women of Herat shares not just their story, but the friendships that were created during their time there. Although one of the main aspects of the book is the musical traditions, it was these friendships that engaged me the most, for here were three very different families giving the reader a glimpse of their lives, and how life was in Afghanistan in the 1970s.

Although remaining very traditional, the three women, Mariam, Mother of Nebi and Shirin, all had very different lives, yes I was very surprised at the openness with which they greeted the author and welcomed her and her husband into their families, teaching them their ways and traditions and about their music, their loves and their family life. In the story of their daily lives that is revealed throughout the book, we’re not just given a glimpse in to life in Afghanistan, but a more liberal Islam in Afghanistan of which many people may not have been previously aware.

Three Women of Herat though is not exploitative in any way, the lives of these families are written with the love and respect that is felt on every page of this fascinating book, and serves to educate not just those with academic interests in Religion (such as myself), but also anyone interested in a life outside of their own.

On reading Three Women of Herat, I did become intrigued by what Afghan music actually sounds like, as a sound I hadn’t heard before, and after reading the story of Shirin (renowned Afghan musician Zaineb Harawi) I had to do a little exploring and discovered online clips, so I could feel even more a part of the book.

I wanted to read Three Women of Herat for my own education experience, but I came away with so much more. Written with the warmth and love that is felt within each of the relationships contained within the book, I felt a part of that world, able to visualise somewhat life in Herat during the 1970s, and this is a testament to the warmth of the writing, which embraces the reader and invites us in, not just to bang a drum but drink tea with these wonderful people.

Three Women of Herat is a step into a hidden world, that although lost to us now, remains an image to a unique group of people whose daily lives can remind us of joy of living and the treasure of our traditions.

There’s something of an innocence to great storytelling, and a story that tells of great friendships and emotions, and in The Herring Man, Cyril James Morris encapsulates the passion for great storytelling in a tale of grief, longing and friendship.

The Herring Man tells of a young boy’s friendship with Gwyn, a lonely man who avoids human contact preferring his isolation and working on his fishing nets, but as we discover, Gwyn has a tale to tell, but not of his own life, but his grandfather’s adventures travelling the world. What begins as an awkward friendship blossoms into a true friendship, even family love, with the boy seeing Gwyn as a father figure to him, and after tragedy strikes, the boy is left to discover the story of Gwyn and set about solving a new mystery.

The Herring man relates the importance of storytelling, and passing on what we know in order to preserve our own history and heritage. Set in the heart of South West Wales, an area renowned for its fishing industry, The Herring Man shows how important this industry is even to the smallest of fishers, and how it means more than just a livelihood to so many.

With stories being passed on only orally through generations so many tales have been lost through time, The Herring Man is not only a testament to preserving our history and our stories, but also an enchanting tale of grief, family and friendship.

To my shame I hadn’t read anything by E.M. Forster, but there was something about The Hill of Devi that I found encapsulating, enigmatic in its description that encouraged me to delve into reading. I think the allure of an India of the past is something few can put aside, it’s a land still very much shrouded in mystery, with a history stretching back tens of thousands of years to the ancient religions of the Indus Valley that, although, very much changed since then, are still fervently practiced today.

E.M. Forster’s account of his temporary posting as Private Secretary to the young Maharaja of Dewas (now a part of the Madhya Pradesh state), Tukojirao III, whose image is on the front cover of the book, and described by Forster as ‘certainly a genius and possibly a saint’. These are not words used in any derogatory sense, as the account of his time spent in India and in the Maharaja’s service is not just affectionate, but loving, sincere and incredibly funny.

Although a memoir of Forster’s travels to India in the 1910s and 1920s, The Hill of Devi predominantly contains a collection of letters written, mostly, to his mother, showing a fascinating insight into the Maharaja’s court and the state of India in the 1920s, a very much ‘warts and all’ approach which not just defined an English predominance for society and manners, but also the self-depreciation of one that looks at the world as it is without any sense of pretension. In The Hill of Devi, Forster often hilariously highlights his own ignorance and inabilities just as much as others.

One of the most captivating parts of the book was the chapter on the Gokul Ashmati festival, the festival to celebrate the birth of Krishna, and it is really here that the state of India is really brought to the forefront. Although a country with great richness, it is also a country of great poverty, and set among a time of great financial difficulties the celebration highlights some of the issues India was facing in the 1920s and under British rule. This is something that Forster reminds us of on occasion, with mentions of Gandhi and the particular political movements growing at that time. The Hill of Devi finally reminds us that British rule was not all the glory it has been believed to be in more recent times, the eventual fate and humiliation of the Maharaja is not just tragic but highlights the intolerable attitude of the former British empire and it’s dominance over the country.

The Hill of Devi is set among the time Forster was writing A Passage to India, which was made into a major film in 1985, and stands the test of time as one of the finest commentaries on India and the lives of those not just in the Maharaja’s court but also the lives and times of India in the last years of British rule.

I love lighthouses, although I’m not sure why is something I could place my finger on but I find something ‘otherworldly’ about them, representing the edge of our world, standing alert where two worlds meet. On hearing that Reaktion Books have published Where Light in Darkness Lies The Story of the Lighthouse by Veronica della Dora, a beautiful, insightful and fascinating book about lighthouses, I jumped at the chance to read it.

Where Light in Darkness Lies The Story of the Lighthouse is by no means a simple history of the lighthouse, here Veronica della Dora takes us through to antiquity and the earliest lighthouses, originally temples, through to their earliest incarnations as beacons warning seafarers, through their repurposing in more modern times.

Aside from my own fascination with these sole sentinels we are guided through how these buildings have not just been utilised for safety purposes, but also the focus of art, literature and cinema, and their place highlighting holiday destinations for modern vacationers. However, Where Light in Darkness Lies also tells a different story that reflects our own status as human beings on this planet, standing on the edge of our landscapes. They represent, in many respects, not just beacons of light and safety, they are beacons of our own past and our imaginations.

In modern times lighthouses have been a part of our scientific progress in areas such as radio and GPS technology, and more recently repurposed into hotels, museums and a variety of other purposes. Although lighthouses’ original purpose may not be as necessary to our modern world they still retain a very much cherished part of our landscape, which stands as a testament not just to their purpose, but also to their design that they have now become integral to many areas around the world. Where Light in Darkness Lies is meticulously researched and engaging to read, and a must for any lover of the lighthouse and their place in our world.

A beautiful book and a truly befitting testament to these magnificent structures, and a must read for anyone with a fascination with how man and technology have grown amicably together over aeons.

I’d been looking forward to reading Figurehead, Carly Holmes’s first collection of short stories for a while. Although tantalising me from the shelf for far too long I was eager to delve right in!

Figurehead fits perfectly in the ‘strange genre’ if strange was a genre, as in many ways it defies any genre that it would appear to fit with the next tale that redefines the collection as a whole. This, for me, is what set Figurehead apart, it is a collection that keeps the reader on their toes and not knowing what’s around the next corner., and that in itself is what creates the atmosphere of the strange, macabre and twisted intention of the collection.

This was my first foray into Carly Holmes’s writing whose wonderful narrative style draws the reader further into each and every page. With tales often twisting into the next, then onto somewhere completely different, Figurehead leads the reader from one dark avenue to the next, The highlight for me was They Tell Me, which tells the tale of a woman placed into an asylum for some mysterious ailment, which echoes to a time when women were sent to asylums for a number of reasons, including just to allow their husbands to get rid of their wives, yet we are not aware of when this tale was set and, as with the majority of tales contained within, that allows Figurehead a timeless quality that (I hope) people will enjoy for years to come.

One of the main aspects I really enjoyed about Figurehead is its visual style. Many of these tales are extremely and simply visualised, this helps make the book a real page-turner, and gives it a ‘televisual’ quality that leaves the reader waiting for the next episode with bated breath.

I’d been looking forward to reading Madwoman, Louisa Treger’s new novel since I first saw the announcement of what the subject was going to be. With the subject matter a part of my own research it was a book I had to read.

Madwoman continues Louisa Treger’s theme of highlighting some of history’s most inspiring, yet understated, women, in The Lodger, we heard the story of the influential feminist writer, Dorothy Richardson, whose novels were some of the first historical accounts of feminist history in the early twentieth century. In The Dragon Lady, we learn of philanthropist Lady Virginia (Ginnie) Courtauld, whose fight for racial equality included building a school and theatre in Zimbabwe (then Rhodesia).

In Madwoman, we hear the startling tale of Nellie Bly, one of the early female journalists who undertook to get herself committed to the notorious Blackwell’s Asylum in late nineteenth century New York. Spending ten days committed and experiencing the brutal and inhumane treatment patients were being subjected to. On being released her articles shocked the country and influenced mental health reform. This however is not the whole story, Madwoman also highlights the expectation and prejudice in the nineteenth century where women were expected to marry, have children and only take ‘safe’ jobs. The more dangerous aspects of Journalism certainly weren’t meant for the faint-hearted, especially not women, yet Bly’s story tells of someone determined to carve out her own future and make her own rules. Her determination paved the way for radical change not just in mental health but also in what would become investigative journalism.

As with her previous novels, Louisa Treger handles her subject with the care and respect they deserve. Madwoman certainly isn’t the easiest story to write about and it would have been easy to over-sensationalise the subject, however, taking from previous research, and Bly’s own writings, the story is not just a compelling page-turner, but a highly informative insight into mental health and discrimination in the nineteenth-century written by an author passionate about the subject and ensuring the world hears these women roar!

In Madwoman, Louisa Treger not just captures the reader with a highly engaging story, but captures the emotion and anguish of the characters that they’ll be ingrained on the reader for time to come.