Penelope Fitzgerald wrote: ‘If I could have back one of the many Winifred Peck titles I once possessed I would choose House-Bound. The story never moves out of middle-class Edinburgh; the satire on genteel living, though, is always kept in relation to the vast severance and waste of the war beyond. The book opens with a grand comic sweep as the ladies come empty-handed away from the registry office where they have learned that they can no longer be “suited” and in future will have to manage their own unmanageable homes. There are coal fires, kitchen ranges and intractable husbands; Rose is not quite sure whether you need soap to wash potatoes. Her struggle continues on several fronts, but not always in terms of comedy. To be house-bound is to be “tethered to a collection of all the extinct memories... with which they had grown up... how are we all to get out?” I remember it as a novel by a romantic who was as sharp as a needle, too sharp to deceive herself.’
Lady Winifred Peck (née Knox), born 1882, was a member of a remarkable family. Her father was Edmund Arbuthnott Knox, the fourth Bishop of Manchester, and her siblings were E. V. Knox, editor of Punch magazine, Ronald Knox, theologian and writer, Dilly Knox, cryptographer, Wilfred Lawrence Knox, clergyman, and Ethel Knox. Peck’s niece was the Booker Prize-winning author Penelope Fitzgerald who wrote a biography of her father, E. V. Knox, and her uncles, entitled The Knox Brothers.
She read Modern History at Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford. Her first book was a biography of Louis IX in 1909.
In 1911 she married James Peck, a British civil servant, who was awarded a knighthood in 1938. They had three children.
In 1919 she began her novel-writing career which saw twenty-five books over a period of forty years, including House-Bound (1942) which was reprinted in 2007 by Persephone Books. She also wrote two books about her own childhood, A Little Learning (1952) and Home for the Holidays (1955).
The one thing I can count on with a Persephone book is that I will like it. Some more than others, sure, but everything about them appeals to me, especially the grey covers that make them so identifiable.
The year is 1942 in Scotland, WWII is raging, and everything is changed. In particular the fact that household help has disappeared, all the girls are joining the war effort or finding work in munitions factories. This leaves a middle class woman like Rose in a quandary. She's 50 years old! How can she be expected to cook and clean and care for her home with no help? Especially as she doesn't know how because she's always had live in help to do all those things. Enter elderly Mrs Childe, who agrees to help out 3 hrs a day and take on the job of training Rose to do for herself. Rose is incompetent and inefficient, a willing student but overwhelmed with the endless tasks of housekeeping, not just once, but over and over again, endlessly. Three meals a day! Add in a reticent and unloving husband, a difficult daughter, a favored son, another son who takes everything in stride, and you get this marvelous novel about a changing world. I've always been a little incredulous at English novels in which even the poorest of families must have some sort of household help and thought this would be an entertaining look at that expectation. It was that, but also a deep dive into changing expectations and finding new ways to cope for not only the elderly and middle-aged, but for young people cast into a world where even tomorrow couldn't be assured.
It seems a little strange that I would find parallels to our modern world in a book written 80 years ago, but the same thing is happening right now to us all. The worldwide catastrophe of Covid has changed our own society, help is impossible to find, health care and service industries are suffering, and supply chain issues are an everyday occurrence. Throw in a few climate change events, a war here and there that can so easily escalate, and political instability, and here we are. May we all have Rose's resiliency and courage, and Mrs. Childe's practical common sense.
I always feel as if I’m in safe hands when I pick up a Persephone book – it’s rare I’m ever disappointed and then usually only slightly. I was right; this is another of those Persephone books about a family that I generally find I love so much. On the face of it House-Bound is a novel about an upper middle- class woman who suddenly has to manage her rather unmanageable house herself, as her remaining staff leave to undertake war work. However it is of course about rather more than that.
Set in Edinburgh in 1942, the novel opens with Rose Fairlaw waiting at Mrs Loman’s Registry Office for Domestic Servants – her quest as she soon finds out is hopeless.
“It was as she stood in Mrs Loman’s Registry Office for Domestic Servants that Rose Fairlaw suddenly realised what a useless and helpless woman she was. Up till that moment she had always assumed vaguely that she was a busy and useful member of society. Mrs Loman, who cocked an appraising eye at Rose, even as she made acid efforts to stem the volubility of the stout lady who held her ear, had no such illusions. There, sitting against the wall on hard chairs were rows of ladies the very image of Mrs Fairlaw, waiting desperately for an interview. They all wore the same type of well cut, well-worn tweeds, shoes and gloves, and beneath their well-bred self-restraint, the same hunted and hunting expression. For thirty years they had come to her office, as they wandered in the wilderness of domestic troubles, and most of them, in her eyes, deserved the troubles they had and the half-crowns they paid her.”
So much to the bemusement of Rose’s friends and family she determines to undertake the daunting task herself. She is a woman with a large and difficult house to care for, with a large basement kitchen just one of the problems she needs to wrestle with. Poor Rose really has no idea; she’s not even certain whether she need use soap to wash potatoes. Thankfully Rose does get some help and much needed instruction, first from daily Mrs Childes who undertakes to use her three hours a day at the Fairlaw house to instruct Rose in the mysteries of housework, and then (maybe more bizarrely) from an American Major and psychiatrist Percy Hosmer who takes it upon himself to teach Rose to cook.
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Rose comes to describe herself as being House-Bound – by her new domestic routine, but soon recognises that she, and many other people like her are house-bound in their minds. Rose is married to Stuart – her second husband – her first husband was killed in World War I. Rose has a daughter by her first marriage, Flora with whom she has a difficult relationship Flora is unhappy, selfish and blames her mother for everything. Stuart’s first marriage produced a son Mickie, of whom Rose has had charge since he was a young baby, and on whom Rose always doted, much to Flora’s disgust. Tom is the youngest child of the family the only child of Stuart and Rose’s marriage. These three grown up children give Rose other things to worry about; Mickie and Tom in the services, Flora deeply unhappy leading a mysterious life down south.
Rose is surprised to find out that Major Hosmer knows Flora – and has talked to her, is interested in her problems. When Flora eventually does return home unexpectedly she brings chaos with her, but the Major seems to think he can help her. The Second World War provides a poignant back drop to this story of domestic disharmony – with the waste of young lives and the changing times for everyone.
There is some lovely gentle humour in this novel with Rose’s attempts to take charge of her house, collapsing exhausted in the afternoon. House-Bound is much more than a novel about house-work; it is also a novel about family, and the misunderstandings and complexities that arise when people don’t really talk about how they feel. It is also a story about people living under the threat of war – what kind of world would it be afterwards, and who would the war claim? At the time it was written the author could have had no idea how it would all turn out. Winifred Peck’s characters are wonderfully real, she satirises slightly the class that Rose comes from, in Rose ‘s best friend Linda and the hilarious Grannie don’t chah see. The American Major who is really a bit of a dab hand in the kitchen, coming up against the dour restraint of Stuart Fairlaw is really very well done. This was a joy of a domestic novel, I loved Rose, and was fascinated by the dreadful Flora’s story.
I found the premise of this book very promising; Rose, an upper-middle class woman in 1940s Scotland who cannot get any servants decides to take on the care of her own home, and begins the struggle to understand both the practical realities of the work, and also what it means that she feels she must 'keep up a standard' which is about the flowers on the table rather than the labour that puts them there.
This was good, and the human relationships were interesting, and I was enjoying it, but
So, it was very frustrating, as novels are when they might be very good but are actually rather poor. I wish it had been more about the work of the hands, the physical life, and less sentimental meanderings.
With Britain at war, difficulties finding servants seem trivial to Rose, compared to the dangers faced by her two sons, one in the Air Force and one in the Army, so she decides to take on the housework herself — cleaning, cooking, making the fires, answering the constantly ringing door, etc. — as her contribution to the war effort. While this might seem unheroic to a modern reader, Rose’s task is complicated by her inexperience (should vegetables be washed with or without soap?), a large and inconveniently laid out four-story house with few conveniences, and the perceived need to keep up the standards and routines they’ve always lived by.
In addition to her struggles with the house, Rose faces family communication/relationship issues with her husband and her difficult daughter, Flora, as well as her worries about her sons. Generally, the author excels at portraying Rose and the other characters, but she is less successful in the portrayal of two of Rose’s children. Rose’s much-loved stepson, Mickey, is offstage for most of the book and never quite comes alive as an individual. And, the explanations the book provides for Flora’s behavior seemed inadequate, leading the reader to feel something important is missing from the story. (Penelope Fitzgerald, the author’s niece (and a wonderful novelist herself), comments in the afterward: “Perhaps Winnie herself did not realize how much she disliked Flora.”).
This is very much a novel of ideas, often leavened with humor. As one might expect from a bishop’s daughter, religious questions and musing by Rose are another strand of the story as are Rose’s unselfish love and service to her family. While many things happen during the novel, what I most enjoyed were Rose’s struggles with the housekeeping and her indefatigable helpers/mentors, Mrs Childe and Major Hosmer
An eye-opening account of one woman's transition during WWII from a house staffed by servants to a house run by herself. Since I run my own house, I was inclined in the beginning to poke fun at her, but I never realized what a pain it would be, when you were raised to be a lady with no practical education, to take care of a house that was designed to be staffed by servants. Her kitchen isn't in the middle of everything like mine is, it's in the basement and you have to carry everything up and down a winding staircase. She has to carry coal and make fires to heat water, and constantly deal with delivery people, and is expected to uphold impossible standards of cleanliness. Peck does a great job of showing us how hard it was, and I had a lot of sympathy as I continued reading. I'm grateful for my hot water heater and electric stove and toaster and frozen vegetables and vacuum and all the conveniences I have that make it possible for me to run my house without help.
Rose, the main character, is very likable—she's such a good sport in trying to learn to keep house. I also enjoyed her penchant for quoting poetry. As far as the plot goes—and there is one besides just housework—it's centered around Rose's wayward daughter Flora and it involves lots of psychoanalysis; the war comes into play as well. I didn't find it riveting but I still enjoyed the overall story and especially the housekeeping details.
What a lovely book. Set in a middle class family in Edingburgh at the time of WW2. All the servants have left or gone to the munitions factory. Rose the mistress of the house finds herself with no servants so she takes on the house herself. Having never done any housework this is so funny. There is so much more to this book with the children and sad times of loss. It was a very enjoyable book and I loved it.
Reread 2023, and awarded it one additional star for the pleasure it gave me this time around, when I was able to fully savor the main plot. Rose Fairlaw, a middle-aged, middle-class Scottish house-wife, finds herself in WWII without domestic servants, as they have all gone off to be married or to better-paying jobs in the munitions factories. She valiantly, by necessity, decides to do for herself and her husband in their old, large, many-storied house, but finds it an almost insurmountable task, since she knows nothing about household chores or cooking. Will she succeed, and what will happen to her and her family and friends during the war? Both her sons are called up, and her daughter drove an ambulance during the blitz.
This is a rich and thoughtful novel, at the same time as it’s a comfort read. It’s a philosophical novel in that Rose ponders the significance of the war, her faith, and the changes to society the war is bringing. At the same time, Peck draws an unforgettable portrait of family relationships and the strain of selfishness, behavior that we today would diagnose as mental illness, and lack of ability to express one’s feelings. It’s admittedly an uneven novel, momentarily dipping into sentimentality and providing an unlikely fairy godfather in an American major, trained as a psychiatrist. At the same time, this Father Christmas gives the readers a mainly happy ending which otherwise would have been hard to provide.
All in all a lovely novel, and you can’t help rooting for Rose and despising her difficult daughter, so true to life.
—- 2016: This is an odd book, but it has one of the best descriptions of a troubled relationship between mother and daughter I've ever read. It reminded me of the relationship between my grandmother and aunt, and felt absolutely true to life. It has stayed with me long after I finished the book - and to be honest, I don't remember too much about the rest of the book other than it was an enjoyable and light read.
I think it's quite hard for us these days to relate to an Edinburgh woman who was brought to her knees by having to do her own housework after a lifetime of assuming there would always be somebody to do it for her. These days, even the upper classes have to make sure kids of both sexes have some idea how to cook before they go off to university, but before the second world war, for people of a certain class,it was unthinkable. Rose Fairlaw is of that class and when she finds she has to cope without servants, it's more of a drama for her than it is for the reader.
At the same time, however, we have the drama of her children's lives, which for the modern reader are probably much more interesting. Mickie, her stepson, is her darling, while her own daughter Flora has suffered from having less attention as a child. Both Mickie and the younger son Tom are now serving in the forces, and life without them in Edinburgh is bleak and anxious for Rose and her introverted husband Stuart.
I found the family relationships much more interesting here than the servant/housework question, so the book felt a little unbalanced, but I did enjoy the descriptions of life in Scotland during world war 2 and it made me cry in places.
The story was a little awkward and unintentionally strange, but I loved it anyway. Written during WWII and set in "Castleburgh" (Edinburgh), it’s full of apprehensive ruminations about the new world order. (In that way, it reminded me a bit of A House in the Country, the Jocelyn Playfair novel that Annette’s friend Alison gave me, thus starting my whole obsession with Persephone Books.) The main character is Rose, and Rose’s daughter, Flora, is one of the most unpleasant people I’ve ever met in fiction. What a pill! There is also an American amateur psychologist who is probably one of the weirder characters I’ve come across in fiction. The book is an artifact of it’s time, I suppose. I think it was trying to be a bit madcap.
Oh, the actual plot is about how middle-class housewife Rose can't find servants--they're all off working in the factories or otherwise contributing to the war effort--so she decides to be her own housekeeper. Exhaustion more than hilarity ensues.
It really was amazingly daft of me to think that I could read a Persephone book set in a World War safely at my desk in the staff room. I had to make three hasty trips to the bathroom, but I don't think anyone suspected me of tears. Anyway!
I got the impression that this would be light comedy, a satire on the helplessness of a particular class of middle-class women. Instead, well. There was humour, but it was the sort of humour that arises out of the clash of normal human interactions and even the Major, who I gather from the afterword, was intended to be purely comic, is well. Believable and real. I went to bed last night in such a turmoil about Rose's relationship with her daughter (who had not even made an appearance then) that it was all I could do not to pick the book up again. Everyone is so real and sweet in their ways that even though you see clearly how responsible they are for their present difficulties, you still excuse them and worry about them.
Quite a difficult book to review. Although it starts as the story of a well-to-do lady trying to manage her home without servants as a consequence of WW2, it's actually really about her family relationships: how she realises there are problems and how she tries to fix them, but this part of the story only gets underway after about 100 pages.
I enjoyed it, but it is flawed. Three big events happen at the end and I felt that was one or two too many. Some of the house issues do drag (although I really liked the bit about Martha), though I also suspect that may be due to a certain lack of sympathy on my part (having no servants and a full time job, albeit a smaller home, and lower standards...).
Rose, a middle aged middle class housewife gives up on the struggle to find a maid in wartime and decides to try and run her house herself without domestic help. She soon finds this is very hard work. Meanwhile she is worried about her daughter,the moody, difficult Flora, and her adored stepson, Mickie, who is a pilot. Everyone seems to love Rose except for Flora, who has never got over the resentment she felt as a child when Mickie got ill and Rose devoted all her energies to looking after him, somewhat neglecting her own daughter. The book follows the ups and downs of Rose through 1942, her struggles with housework and with her daughter. I think I felt more sympathy with Flora than I was supposed to, I felt it was a bit hard on her that Rose clearly cared more for Mickie than for her own daughter. Rose and Mickie are mean to be absolutely adorable, but I just didn’t adore them.
It would have been more interesting if the author had indeed explored the middle-class wife's difficulties in undertaking her own housework without the assistance of paid labour or labour-saving devices. Unfortunately, the housework is side-tracked by a subplot more suited to a Mills & Boon romance.
I love Persephone Books. You can usually rely on them for a good read. True to form, then, House-Bound did a rather successful job of breaking up what seemed like a never-ending line of underwhelming reads.
Absurd though it seems to the modern reader, this is a gently satiric novel about an upper middle-class, middle-aged woman who must learn to look after her own unmanageable home, as the war is stealing the country's domestic workers house by house. Unlike her peers, albeit with some trepidation, Rose Fairlaw is prepared to get her hands dirty – literally – in a protest against what she has come to see as the useless and helpless class of people she belongs to. The narrative is full of comic anecdotes about Rose's trials: how to wash vegetables (spoiler: soap not needed), conflicting cookbooks, the carpet-sweeper (vacuum) which seems to leave behind more mess than it picks up. Her family approach the dinner table with not a little alarm, wondering what is waiting for them in the guise of food.
The fun continues. Rose's husband, Stuart, is that breed of genteel Scotsman whose emotions are communicated mainly through the eyebrows – when he chooses or is able to communicate them at all. A disciple of order and routine, he is dismayed by the consequent disruption to his household. Worse still is the American Major Hosmer, who represents everything Stuart hates: loud, talkative, inappropriate and unable to take a hint, Hosmer often outstays his welcome. On the contrary, he will invite himself to dinner and discuss a topic so forbidden not even the family will discuss it: the family's private affairs. Any scene with Hosmer is bound to bring hilarity, even as he proves himself tiresome. And so Peck's characters, exaggerated archetypes though they may seem, all make for delightful reading.
This is all, of course, against the backdrop of the Second World War, and that influences Peck's critique. In the grand scheme of things, losing a maid is not a big deal. If that's the worst that happens to you, then you're in a privileged place indeed – although naturally, many of Rose's peers fail to see this. Equally, however, the idea of maintaining standards, of housework, is not a big deal. Rose initially sees her running of the big old house her war work: she is getting on a bit and can't do much, but she can do this. But she comes to acknowledge that this isn't really contributing anything to the war effort, and that it doesn't matter if she hasn't dusted some dark corner of a room never used. Times are changing, and values with them. Indeed, the theme of change is a big one. There is an element of nostalgia throughout as characters fight to maintain the status quo for as long as possible, and Rose, though certainly what we would call progressive, is not without help. But greater than this is the message that we should look to the future rather than cling to the past. Rose herself acknowledges that she cannot lose entirely the code of conduct with which she was raised; but for her children, the youth and young adults growing up in an entirely different world, their attitudes will necessarily be different. Even for a novel written in the midst of war, this is a forward-thinking approach.
One way in which this theme of change is carried forward is through Rose's concept of 'house-bound'. Beyond the literal, the term also becomes a metaphor for our minds. We are, Rose reflects, all confined to our own modes of thinking, and we tend to be absorbed by our own problems. We are each our own little house. How much better would society be if we could see things as others see them, if we could be flexible in our thinking? This is a concept which applies itself nicely to the political and the personal.
Peck focuses a great deal on the personal. Much of the novel is concerned with Rose's family, and even though we only see her three children (now adults) briefly, they are nevertheless present throughout. On the whole this is an interior narrative, and we spend much of it in Rose's head; largely she is thinking of her family and replaying memories. Peck does a brilliant job of mapping out the complexities among them all. In particular the narrative focuses on the troubled relationship between Rose and her daughter Flora. With the latter we see how being 'house-bound' can be problematic on an individual level. Similarly, we see Stuart and Rose's relationship through this image. Hosmer, hanging around the (literal) house so often he's practically one of them, represents a way of breaking out. Peck is never heavy-handed in her themes, and while she may admonish her characters, she is nevertheless gentle with them.
War intrudes, as that is what war does, and yet I didn't see the ending coming. For all that this is a comic novel, it does have serious undertones. While there aren't deep discussions about the war – Rose is so tired and so busy that she doesn't have the headspace to keep up with the news, let alone cope with it – it is referenced throughout, and we see different responses to it. Coupled with that, of course, is Rose's constant worry about her children, always praying for their safe return. Peck almost tricks the reader with the end, jolting us out of complacency.
The novel, then, operates on several levels. It is a satire on genteel living but with deep emotional impact, centred around a woman who is dreamy, courageous, reflective, entertaining. It also has a particular resonance for the modern reader. Peck addresses such things as what we would call unpaid labour. Bearing in mind the class privilege of being able to have servants at all – and likely underpaying them – housework is still woman's lot. Stuart, unhappy at how run-down and exhausted his wife is, does not think to help. He thinks about his children when pushed but does not worry about them the way Rose does. Likewise, the idea of being house-bound is still too much a problem today. Now more than ever it seems, certainly in our lifetimes, people are stuck within their own rigid houses, determined not to open their doors.
All that being said, the novel ends on a note of hope, and indeed that echoes the message carried through this book: we should all look forward rather than back. In that way we will make a better job of things.
A shining example of my favorite type of early 20th century lady novelist. The frustrations of keeping house verbalized perfectly through the lens of a novice. Beautifully explores the dichotomy of daily chores and the abject tragedy of life as well as the complexity of adult parent adult child relationships. Proof that the quintessential middle class Edinburgh mum has always been a stereotype worthy of derision and aspiration.
Persephone books - always interesting, as republished ‘neglected fictions’; I decided to do a search through our North Yorkshire Library on-line catalogue by publisher for these books. Quite a few came up, and again quite a few were on the shelves at our local library. I will slowly work my way through them. I enjoyed this one as a novel, although at a certain point I knew how it would end. My main enjoyment was the book as a piece of social history; published in 1942, the plot centres on Rose Fairlaw, middle class, the daughter of ‘landed gentry’ in Scotland, brought up to supervise the running of a household rather than actually carry out the nuts and bolts tasks. WW2 means that Rose’s ‘establishment’ of cook and housemaids has evaporated, with her servants either marrying servicemen, or themselves employed in war work. She makes the decision to run her house herself. She can’t cook, the house is impractical and old, the doorbell and telephone ring constantly with tradespeople delivering to the house - and of course her husband expects all his creature comforts to carry on as normal, with no input from himself. Remember, we are in the age of coal fires and kitchen ranges, so housework is dusty, dirty and hard physical labour. A carpet sweeper and an electric stove are the pinnacles of modern labour saving devices. Rose tries to maintain the high standards of the days when she had a team of staff, and as a result comes near physical and nervous breakdown. As well as a domestic setting hard for us to comprehend now, there is also the moral stance. Without going into too much detail, the plot also involves Rose and Stuart’s three children, and there the family is curiously contemporary, as both Rose and Stuart have been married before and widowed, so only the third child is the result of their union. The eldest girl is ‘difficult’, and here we enter the world of burgeoning psychoanalysis, represented by the American Major Hosmer, a psychiatrist, and also proposer of all that is modern and transAtlantic in labour saving household management. Religion plays a much larger part in Rose’s life than it might nowadays, and moral standards are different too, as one would expect. The difficult daughter has had extra marital affairs, and her step-father refers to her as ‘another man’s leavings.’ There is a sense of the old order passing, collapsing around the ears of the middle classes; a way of life that began to go with the Great War, and is now irrevocably gone. On a more trivial note, Rose often refers to herself as an old woman, yet she can only be in her early fifties; another mark of the times. Altogether an interesting read, with plenty to think about, even if the plot is a little trite.
3.5 stars. This is the first Persephone book I’ve found a difficult read. Some of it reads uncomfortably out dated, for instance in terms of the expectation of others of middle class, middle aged women. And the description of the children that Rose read to really upset me. It’s certainly a book of its time.
I wished Rose would stick up for herself, Stuart not be so repressed, Flora not be so awfully selfish and Major Hosmer stop interfering. The Major is supposed I think to be a comic figure, I found him disturbingly weird. Cousin Mary is a woman of the new world Rose expects will exist once the war has ended. She reminded me of my own Great Aunt, she nursed in World War II, never married and spent her holidays touring Europe in her Morris Minor!
I enjoyed Penelope Fitzgerald’s afterword, it put the book into a different perspective for me and made me think it deserves a second read. Maybe I’ll be able to appreciate it more on a second reading.
First, let me gush over these Persephone Editions! They are a joy and a pleasure to hold and to read. The cover is a plain elegant smoky grey with a simple title label, the inside sings with French flaps and gorgeously designed endpapers inspired by the time period in which the book was first written. And as a bonus they come with A MATCHING BOOKMARK! Is that lovely or what! This one follows the everyday events and struggles of an English family living during the days of WWII. It focuses on the matriarch of the family as she strives to handle her stay-at-home part during the horrors. Told with the spare, stiff-upper-lip-tears-just-beneath-the-surface, flowingly beautiful style of the time it is absolutely worth a read.
I actually didn't finish this book. I finally gave up on it last night. I usually love Persephone titles because they're well written and give an insight into the period I write about myself. However, this one was just too slow-moving for me. There were vast chunks of internal monologue. It wasn't badly written, but I just found myself not really caring about the flaky middle-class characters one way or the other. I think, perhaps, it was very much a book of its time, and of its class. Reading it was like eating rice pudding, without the jam.
An exceptional novel, recently reissued by Persephone Books, including the preface by Penelope Fitzgerald.
I was fortunate to find a copy published earlier at a local library. (Without the preface, unfortunately.)
Set during World War II outside of Edinburgh, this book examines loss, faith, family, and changing social structure and expectations of women during this difficult time.
I’m going to be honest ; I thought that I was enjoying this but as time went on I was finding reasons not to read it and picking up other books instead ( hence the long time between start and finish ) . There was , by the middle of the book too much lecturing , mostly about religious ideas ( ugh ) Then her mistreatment and lack of sympathy for her step daughter were very distasteful . It’s an ok book but certainly not of the same calibre as any of Dorothy Whipple’s gems .