Good lord, these books. Whenever I’m reading one of them, I’m convinced that “this one’s my favourite,” only to immediately change my mind when I open the next one.
This fucking book, though. I think it’s my favourite? It moves on seamlessly from the first one, but then the atmosphere is so completely different. From the rambling, sleepy beauty of the Essex countryside and the stuck-in-the-past-century, fox-hunting, horse-obsessed bunch of landed gentry inhabiting it, we move on to the bustling atmosphere of urban living in 1912 and the breakneck speed of progress in early aviation, and it’s every bit as immersive and thrilling in a completely different way. There’s no way you can’t get swept up in it just like Christina does, for all that it’s a completely alien world to her.
I love, love, love the spirit of this book. Everything about the flying is so intense and real and dangerous – the way these early planes are cobbled together in sheds, held together by wires and fabric and mad hopes, the way innovation races along, leaving the older generation befuddled and sternly disapproving (I do love Aunt Grace and her pragmatic ways). Peyton creates such a genuine sense of living in this mad era, capturing the spirit of hope and ingenuity and change of a promising new century, all while the cloud of the First World War is already looming. It’s so authentic how these young people are vaguely aware of the news, but it’s no big deal to them, because they’ve got jobs to find and dreams to pursue and complicated emotions to sort through, and talk of a war is just boring politics to them. It comes out in so many little things, too, like Christina not understanding the point of suffragettes, while at the same time acknowledging that she would quite like to have a job and ride a bicycle and spend an evening with her plane-crazed boyfriend without facing the scalding moral outrage of a chaperone.
The side characters are bloody fantastic – so much love for Sandy and Dorothy and the casual, jokey, brilliant community of young aviators. I had a moment of utter hilarity when I realised it’s about 90% likely that the German doctor Will flies to see in Switzerland is actually Ferdinand Sauerbruch, who was working there at the time and who seems determined to pop up in all my reading about the era! My tiny fandom overlapping again <3
Apart from the way the era draws you in and how lived-in and authentic it all feels, the strongest throughline of this book is of course Will and Christina’s relationship. As mentioned in my review of the first book, their feelings seem pretty out of the blue in that mad dash at the end of “Flambards” but this book does such a fantastic job of proving the feelings are not only real but sturdy enough to tackle an onslaught of obstacles while letting the two of them grow as individuals and as a couple. Christina and Will are only seventeen and eighteen when Edge of the Cloud starts, and by the end of the book, two years later, I am so invested in them. For one thing, it’s such an accurate portrayal of growing up in a chaotic period, how they’re considered adults in some ways by a society that nevertheless still tries to stifle them in many others, and, well, they’re just not having any of the stifling and it’s bloody brilliant. They’re never overly sentimental and rarely even demonstrative about their feelings for each other (one key scene still stands out as an exception), and they’re fundamentally different in their passions (literally attuned to two opposing elements, earth and air), but they nevertheless grow into a strong couple with a quiet foundation of trust and devotion that’s all the more moving for rarely being voiced out loud.
My heart broke for Christina so many times when it came to her fear about flying. Stifling and suppressing her utter terror and making sure she hides it from Will and smiles through her panic may not seem like a particularly healthy way of going on from a modern perspective, but I generally see it as less about what she makes herself bear for his sake, and more as a very in-character, deeply internal pragmatism, a kind of brutally sober and accurate appraisal of what it means to love someone who loves something devastatingly dangerous. She knows that if she wants to be with him, she’s got to find a way to cope with the flying, and knowing that, she also knows that there’s no point driving them both nuts with constantly flapping about it. The “chin-up and carry on” attitude is as much if not more for her own sake as his. It does hurt that Will so often seems utterly clueless if not dismissive of the sacrifices she makes, though he does have his rare moments of appreciation. But that’s in character too (if it doesn’t have an engine and wings, Will is unlikely to give it much consideration), and it enhances how this is not some picture-perfect love story but two young people who are learning how to build a life they can share, with all the bumps and differences and imperfections that entails.
The ending hits hard. It’s not what it could be but somehow that still makes it even more devastating. And then just when there might be a bit of stability and bliss ahead, of course the bloody war starts. Damn, these books are GOOD.