Mrs Gulliver | Valerie Martin

In her most recent work, renowned historical fiction author Valerie Martin gives Romeo and Juliet a contemporary, original and feminist twist.

In 1954, on the fictitious island of Verona, Italy, Lila Gulliver runs a profitable high-end brothel with an impeccable reputation of discretion and privacy. Here prostitution is legal, and Mrs Gulliver takes pride in her business.

“Tourists come because it’s warm, fishing is good, lodging inexpensive , drugs are widely available, and prostitution is legal. San Alfonso is pleasure-loving, and notoriously corrupt, drawing the world’s endless supply of crooks and con men to our shores.”

Lila Gilliver’s personal and professional lives take an unexpected turn when a beautiful blind woman, Carità Bercy, 19, knocks on her door seeking employment. Carità and her sister, Bessie, come from a wealthy family and have been left to fend for themselves after their rich bachelor uncle, who raised them, lost all his money and committed suicide. Before their uncle’s death, the sisters had a tragic history. Their father died in a car accident, as did their mother after Carità’s birth. Before shooting himself, he did give the girls money and two bus tickets to the city, instructing them to pitch at the brothel’s door.

Lila sees the potential in hiring an educated, beautiful blind girl, and Carità quickly proves her worth. Lila, though, misjudges her new employee. Ian Drohan, the handsome son of the richest family on the island, visits the brothel and falls in love with Carità instantly. Lila doubts that it is true love and believes that he only wants to be the saviour who rescues Carità from the modern-day slavery she has been forced into. But the fearless young woman knows exactly what she’s doing. Ian is merely a means to advance her social standing.

Fate intervenes, and the two star-crossed lovers are forced to flee San Alfonso after Ian gets into an argument with gang members and severely injures one of them. Mike Drohan, Ian’s judge father, approaches Lila to assist in finding the couple. Lila feels responsible for Carità, but she also finds herself drawn to Mike, a married man.

This is a story about two lovers, but the strongest characters are the two women: Lila and Carità. Both must prove their worth in difficult circumstances. Although Lila is the narrator and observer in Carità’s story, we gain a good understanding of her own background growing up in a poor village in the mountains. Having succeeded she finds herself in a male dominated “… run by hypocritical men whose passion for controlling women’s bodies knows no limit”. Prostitution is legal, but abortion is not, as it serves male needs. Carità needed to fight to be seen as an equal because she was not only a woman, but also blind in a in a society that discriminated against people who couldn’t see. Her unshakable determination and ability to judge people correctly works in her favour and unlike Juliet, she survives.

In comparison, the men appear weaker. Ian was afraid of failure and had a strained relationship with his father, who treated him with contempt. He sees women as either inferior beings who need to be rescued or villainized, as in the case of Mrs Gulliver. When he discovers Carità is his equal and has her own opinions, he is not pleased.

“Men are expected to succeed, women to fail. Every woman knows the deck is stacked. The world I live in isn’t benign; it’s the world men allow to women. They made it for us. They have all the power, and we work around them.”

In Mrs Gulliver, Martin strikes the ultimate balance between great storytelling and feminism. Without sacrificing the complex and engaging plot, she deftly interweaves these two unabashedly strong women’s stories and sets them against the weaker men. Intelligent, razor-sharp, witty and captivating, Mrs Gulliver is a must-read if you crave a novel with strong and interesting female characters.

Mrs Gulliver is published by Serpent’s Tail and Jonathan Ball, kindly gifted me with a copy of the book for review.

Lady Life | Ahmet Altan

For almost five years Turkish journalist and author, Ahmet Altan, was jailed after being charged with providing “subliminal messages” to incite those behind the coup attempt in 2016. In this period, Altan released two books: Lady Life, a literary work, and I Will Never See the World Again, his memoirs. On April 14, 2021, Altan was released from prison despite having received a life sentence.

At the centre of Altan’s story is Fazıl, a young man accustomed to a comfortable life. After “a major country” announced it would no longer be importing tomatoes from Turkey, his father unexpectedly declares bankruptcy. Fazıl and his family’s lives are drastically altered when their father dies from a stroke just one day after facing financial ruin.

Fazıl aspires to become a literary critic and hopes to spend his life “… among people who loved literature, who taught it, who discussed it” despite his sudden plunge into poverty. A week after his father’s funeral, he boards a bus bound for Pera. Fazıl compares himself to a baby turtle without its shell, “helpless, unsheltered, and weak.” He sells everything he owns, including his clothes, books, laptop, and phone, and moves into an old boardinghouse in a sketchy neighbourhood. Immigrants, sex workers, activists, and busboys from all over the world make up the boardinghouse’s diverse inhabitants.

Fazıl gets a job as an audience member in a television programme featuring podium dancers in order to help fund his education. In this unlikely setting, he meets two women who will change his life. He can discuss literature with the pessimistic young student Sıla, with whom he shares a family background. When the government took over her father’s company, she too lost everything.  Sıla’s only objective was to get out of Turkey as quickly as possible and join her cousin in Canada. Fazıl is also attracted to Hayat, the show’s star, an ebullient, sensual, and unapologetic older woman who leads a happy life free of regrets. Hayat, who does not read, satisfies her thirst for knowledge by watching television documentaries, impressing Fazıl with her exceptional memory. Sıla has meticulously planned for their future together. Hayat, on the other hand, does not believe in planning for the future and would rather live life to the fullest in the moment.

“Time would teach me that to understand such things as they were unfolding one needed a certain kind of experience, a maturity that was shaped by coming into collision with “real life:, something I lacked then.”

Fazıl exhibits the actions of a young man who lacks maturity and self-awareness, as he is caught between these two women. He’s unable to deal with reality since he’s unrealistically modelled his life after the novels he reads. Subsequently he’s frequently sulky, changes his mind at the drop of a hat and disappoints the two women in his life.

“Time would teach me that to understand such things as they were unfolding one needed a certain kind of experience, a maturity that was shaped by coming into collision with “real life:, something I lacked then.”

Lady Life is so colourful and captivating that it is hard to imagine Altan was incarcerated when he wrote it. Undoubtedly, the Turkey he portrays is a troubled nation run by an authoritarian government, plagued by political and economic hardships.

“It was as if we were sitting in the palm of a giant who, whenever he wanted, could make a fist and crush us in it.”

When Fazıl is offered a new editorial post at a newspaper he learns of all the horrific actions of the government that are never heard of due to severe censorship. At night pro-government men loiter in the street of the boardinghouse, beating up people who are dare to oppose the government.

Altan doesn’t gloss over these grim realities, but he balances it by painting vivid cityscapes that captivate our attention by describing the sights, sounds, and scents.Through exquisitely rendered vignettes, Altan presents Pera’s everyday life, offering an insightful look into contemporary Turkey.

Lady Life is more than just a poignant coming-of-age story, it’s populated with philosophical ponderings and life wisdoms. Although it depicts a carefree youth, there’s more to discover beneath the surface.

Like Happiness | Ursula Villarreal-Moura

Part coming-of-age novel, part #MeToo commentary Villarreal-Moura’s debut is a delightful surprise which circumvents the politically correct hype trap.

Chile. 2015. Tatum Vega lives happily with her partner, Vera, and has her dream job at an art museum. However, when Tatum is contacted by an investigative journalist for The New York Times the past she successfully escaped from resurfaces. An acclaimed writer, M. Dominguez, has been accused of sexual abuse by a young woman, the same man Tatum had a relationship with in her early twenties.

The first-person narrative introduces us to Tatum, an immature and impressionable student and bookworm who craves acceptance and believes she has found it in the likeminded soul of a well-known writer. There’s a vulnerability to Tatum, but the author doesn’t present her as an entirely helpless victim preyed on by an older, more experienced man—the relationship is of a more complex nature.

Tatum reflects on the past and suddenly doubts her relationship with Dominguez, or Mateo as she knew him, in the wake of the accusations. She accomplishes this by conversing with him one-sidedly by writing him a letter. Their relationship also began through email correspondence, so a letter summarising it afterwards feels appropriate.

Tatum becomes obsessed with Dominguez after reading his book, Like Happiness, because he appears to grasp the issues she encounters as a young Latina woman. He writes about disadvantaged people with language barriers who face discrimination based on their ethnicity or poverty, which is why she found the book so compelling. Tatum frequently feels overlooked in class at Williams University as her presence in a room seems to go unnoticed by the other students. She feels the need to be seen and this, as well as her lack of friends, is her vulnerability.

Dominguez responds to her emails, and “[a]n intoxicating slippery, all-consuming relationship ensues” even though she was an undergraduate and he a university professor. Looking back, she was unaware of Dominguez grooming her. It also does not appear that he used her; he never claimed to be her boyfriend or promised any kind of commitment.

“The like-minded friend I yearned for—well, you existed after all.”

Dominguez drives her to leave her parental home in Texas after she completes her studies. She moves to New York to be closer to him, but, subsequently, also gains a better understanding of her own identity and place in the world.

“…Latino pride is a no-win conundrum. You’re a damn stereotype if you feel it and shout it, or an ashamed coconut if you don’t.”

Our heroes, as is often the case, have clay feet, and Dominguez is no exception. Tatum notices that he does not know as much about literature as he claims to. She considered their literary conversations to be the basis of their friendship, but looking back she comes to the conclusion that he never expressed an original thought on the work they discussed.

Like Happiness is nuanced and leaves open-ended questions, much like Tatum and Dominguez’s relationship, but it’s it might be exactly this which makes it a compelling read.

Like Happiness is published by Pushkin Press and I received a review copy via NetGalley.

Forgotten on Sunday | Valérie Perrin

Justine Neige lives in Milly, a village of about 400 people, so small you’ll need a magnifying glass to find it on a map. Yet, Justine is content with her life. By day she works at The Hydrangeas, a retirement home, as a carer and by night she goes dancing. These are her two loves: the elderly and music.

Her interest in the elderly was sparked when her French teacher took her 7th grade class to The Three Pines for an afternoon. Being raised by her grandparents may have also contributed. Justine and her cousin Jules’ parents “had the terrible idea of dying together in a car accident one Sunday morning”, caused by a tree in the road and one of their fathers driving too fast. Their grandparents lost both their sons and was left to raise their two children. Justine misses having a mother. Her grandparents did their best, but they were mostly absent. As a child, whenever her grandmother touched her, it was always with a wash glove.

“They’re always inside the house, but never in the rooms. They’re always at the table, but never on the menu.”

Since his sons died, her grandfather has stopped waiting for anything, and her grandmother has “the suicide sickness.” She was fine for a month, then she’d swallow three pill packets, stick her head in the oven, or jump from the second floor.

Hélène, a resident who shares her life story with Justine—a story Justine meticulously pens down in her blue notebook, connecting the strands of Hélène’s fragmented memories—provides Justine with the motherly affection she’s always lacked. Through Hélène’s retelling of her life Justine learns of Lucien Perrin, Hélène’s only love she temporarily lost due to the Second World War and who returned as a different man. Her story is one of sadness, tragedy, but also of hope.

These days, Hélène thinks back to a beach day she and Lucien had. Subsequently the staff refer to her as “The Beach Lady.” Also because a seagull has made itself at home on the building’s roof since her arrival. The seagull has followed Hélène throughout her life and became a symbol of hope.

“She assures him that every human being is linked to a bird. You just have to look up at the sky to see that your bird is never far away.”

The transient nature of life and the significance of taking care of your loved ones are brought to light when an unknown individual begins calling the families of residents who are never visited on Sundays to inform them that they have passed away.

Love remains elusive for Justine. Even though she occasionally sees someone who is persistently pursuing her, at 21 she doesn’t feel the need to commit to any one person. Jules says she “thinks like a novel” and that she is too naively sentimental. She dreams of love, yet when it’s within her grasp she rejects it.

Forgotten on Sunday is a heart-warming, empathetic story of love and loss. It’s tinged with sadness as it shifts between the past and present, but Perrin’s wonderfully quirky and poetic writing style makes it an absolute joy to read. It also serves as a reminder that the elderly’s stories should not be dismissed and as Justine reminds us, there are two things she’s learnt from them: 1. Make the most of life, it goes fast and 2. Never tell a secret.

Forgotten on Sunday is published by Europa Editions internationally and by Jonathan Ball in South Africa. The team at Jonathan Ball kindly gifted me with a review copy of the novel.

About the author

Valérie Perrin grew up in Burgundy and settled in Paris in 1986. Her novel Forgotten on Sunday won the Booksellers Choice Award. Her English-language debut, Fresh Water for Flowers won the Maison de la Presse Prize, the Paperback Readers Prize, and was named a 2020 ABA Indies Introduce and Indie Next List title. Fresh Water for Flowers has been translated to over thirty languages, and sold over 1 million copies worldwide. Since graduating in French from Oxford University, Hildegarde Serle has worked in London as a subeditor, mainly on The Independent. In 2011, she did the CIOL Diploma in Translation. She still lives in London, but her heart lives on the Quai aux Fleurs in Paris.

My Husband | Maud Ventura

Parisian Maud Ventura’s debut novel is a dark, often absurd, account of a woman’s obsession with her husband, the notion of love, and the extraordinary lengths she will go to in order to safeguard it.

Our nameless narrator is an English teacher and translator who is still completely obsessed with her husband after fifteen years of marriage. She waits for his return from work every evening in dim lighting, dressed perfectly with a book in hand “to create a certain look”, much like a Stepford wife. This is just one of the many ways she manages and manipulates her husband’s perception of her, as well as his behaviour.

Before they meet for lunch she intentionally stains her satin blouse with ink so she can have an excuse to wear a different, nicer outfit than the one he saw her in earlier. Her husband prefers that she doesn’t wear her glasses even though she can just recognise his outline as he arrives for said lunch. Instead she turns her near-blindness into a comment about love:

“Is this the certain proof of love, to be able to distinguish with a glance your beloved’s silhouette from all other silhouettes, even when you’re nearsighted?” “From what distance does love begin?”

The narrator’s behaviour appears completely irrational and out of control, but beneath the surface is an insecure woman constantly plagued by the fear that her husband will abandon her. When they have lunch he orders something different than usual, leaves a large tip and is too friendly with the waitress. Of course, he’s having an affair, she thinks. Even though she knows he’s not because she routinely checks his receipts, GPS records and emails, as well as making recordings of all their conversations in order to analise it afterwards.

She complains that she’s always the compliant one, yet she keeps up an exhausting facade every day. For example, her husband prefers to sleep with the bedroom’s shutters closed, she doesn’t. She’d rather endure sleepless nights than brace the subject with him. But she does keeps a notebook filled with his so-called wrongdoings and punishes him accordingly. If he doesn’t wish her good night before he goes to sleep, she gives him the cold shoulder.

We never know the husband’s name, and we don’t need to because he merely exists as the main character’s possession, always referred to as “my husband.” We only know that he was perfect husband material: the right degree, career, and social standing. She never wanted children, but only agreed to please him. She was too busy to be in love to be a good mother. Now the children are an obstacle in their relationship, something which takes up his time, time he’s not spending with her. When her daughter seeks solace with her mother due to a stomach ache her only concern is that the child will ruin her makeup. Her husband puts effort into their daughter’s birthday party and she’s jealous because he has never made her a cake or hung a garland in a tree for her.

“I can’t remember the last time my husband made the effort to switch up the paper or the colour of the label for each of my presents.”

She doesn’t need friends because every new person in their lives is “…an additional dilution of his attention, a dilution of him…” They do have dinner with Nicolas and Louise one night, but she obsesses over the couple’s relationship the entire time. Is it better than theirs? If so, do they kiss more frequently? The funniest incident in the book also occurs during this dinner. She first becomes irate when her husband fails to mention her in a story and then refuses to give her credit for planning the surprise party that is featured in the story. But then, during a game, he has the audacity to compare her to a clementine. After fifteen years of marriage, she believes she deserves better than to be compared to a small citrus fruit and interprets it as “a particularly vehement declaration of war.” Meanwhile her husband is apparently blissfully unaware of her state of distress.

“I am not in a state to drive; I’m much too aggrieved by the clementine incident. I want an explanation, but I am still much too distraught to confront the issues head-on.”

Our initial disbelief at her behaviour gradually gives way to sympathy and possibly even sadness as more is revealed. She’s trapped in a fabricated situation of her own making. Despite her suffocating love for her husband, she is unhappy and lives in a constant state of anxiety and uncertainty. This is not love, but an act of control and ownership. Instead of a normal, loving relationship, she is continuously self-sabotaging it with obsessive and irrational conduct.

Her actions, as caricatured as they seem, aren’t completely far-fetched. Although it is a gross exaggeration of the ways men and women approach marriage, it might just be rooted in some truths. Are women overly emotional, and do we misinterpret or overthink our partners’ actions? Are men too distracted and emotionally unavailable?

My Husband may question your views on marriage. What if marriage really is a never-ending game of power, a two-way manipulation? Whatever your conclusion, My Husband is a claustrophobic novel brimming with psychological suspense; an unsettling depiction of a woman unhinged.

My Husband was translated from French by Emma Ramadan. Published in 2021 as Mon Mar, it won the Prix du Premier, France’s prestigious first novel award. The English translation is published by Random House who kindly provided me with a review copy via NetGalley.