The Child's Child is the new crime novel by bestselling, prize-winning author Barbara Vine, pen-name for the late bestselling author Ruth Rendell
What sort of betrayal would drive a brother and sister apart?
When Grace and her brother Andrew inherit their grandmother's house, they surprise few people by deciding to move in together. But they've always got on well and the London house is large enough to split down the middle.
There's just one thing they've not taken into account though. What if one of them wants to bring a lover to the house? When Andrew's partner James moves in, and immediately picks a fight about the treatment of gay men, the balance is altered - with almost fatal consequences.
Barbara Vine's is the pen-name of Ruth Rendell, and The Child's Child is the first book she has published under that name since The Birthday Present in 2008. It's an intriguing examination of betrayal in families, and of those two once-unmentionable subjects, illegitimacy and homosexuality. A taut, thrilling read, it will be enjoyed by readers of P.D. James and Ian Rankin.
'The Rendell/Vine partnership has for years been producing consistently better work than most Booker winners put together' Ian Rankin
'She deploys her peerless skills in blending the mundane, commonplace aspects of life with the murky impulses of desire and greed.
Ruth rendall has published fourteen novels under the Vine name, two of which, Fatal Inversion and King Solomon's Carpet, won the prestigious Crime Writers' Association Gold Dagger Award. Also available in Penguin by Barbara Vine: The Minotaur, The Blood Doctor, Grasshopper, The Chimney Sweeper's Boy, The Brimstone Wedding, No Night is Too Long, Asta's Book, King Solomon's Carpet, Gallowglass, The House of Stairs, A Dark-Adapted Eye.
Rendell created a third strand of writing with the publication of A Dark Adapted Eye under her pseudonym Barbara Vine in 1986. Books such as King Solomon's Carpet, A Fatal Inversion and Anna's Book (original UK title Asta's Book) inhabit the same territory as her psychological crime novels while they further develop themes of family misunderstandings and the side effects of secrets kept and crimes done. Rendell is famous for her elegant prose and sharp insights into the human mind, as well as her ability to create cogent plots and characters. Rendell has also injected the social changes of the last 40 years into her work, bringing awareness to such issues as domestic violence and the change in the status of women.
This may be the last book by Barbara Vine (Ruth Rendell) that I read. Maybe she's changing, or maybe I'm just getting tired of her (as I did, at some point, of Anne Perry).
This started out promising -- I enjoyed the literary references the narrator mentions as part of her thesis -- but almost right away I had doubts about the novel-within-this-novel, as one character immediately seemed too familiar (stereotypical?) though I was ready to excuse it as a convention for the fictional fiction. But after too much exposition and too many years (and characters) that seemed to be rushed through, I wasn't so sure of that excuse anymore. And I hesitate to say that it was poorly written, but I did find more than a couple of sentences rather clunky.
Two-thirds of the way through, I began to find it tedious and I wondered if we'd ever get back to the framing story, and once we did, it was over all too quickly and, though I get her point, it was not satisfying at all.
The whole time I was reading this I had deja vu. I believe I've read this before, but oh well, I read it again with tremendous enjoyment. Ruth Rendell or Barbara Vine, her pseudonym, is a great writer. She, like Agatha Christie, knows the human soul and it's peculiarities well. She, unlike Christie, believes people can change, not for the better usually. As in this tale, the young girl in the story within the story, The Child's Child, is a sympathetic character at first, but evolves into something else by story's end.
This is my first novel written by Ruth Rendell under her decidedly darker pen name, Barbara Vine, and was her fourteenth and final novel to be published. Having read several Rendell standalone psychological thrillers I am well aware that was no shrinking violet in tackling the thorny issues of social taboos. Whilst The Child’s Child is not a seamless effort it is very powerful, ingeniously constructed and focuses on how the very same issues of illegitimacy and homosexuality were regarded in the 1920’s and the present day, specifically 2011. Through the ingenious device of a novel within a novel, Vine analyses how what is considered accepted behaviour has changed through the decades.
Beginning with the death of their grandmother, siblings Andrew and Grace jointly inherit her spacious Hampstead home of Dinmont House. Having always got on well and given their previous experiences of house shares in pricey London, the two decide to divide the property between themselves, but share the kitchen, staircase and front door. The story is narrated by twenty-eight-year PhD student, Grace Dinmont, as she is researching her thesis on the attitudes to illegitimacy and ‘unmarried mothers’ and the treatment of such women in English literature, particularly in the Victorian era of Eliot, Hardy and Trollope. Be warned that at times, Grace’s monologues on such specifics can become a little dense but once the story starts progressing, but they do set the context for much of the impending drama and are of value in appreciating the historical context. When thirty-year-old brother, Andrew, falls in love with the handsome novelist, James Derain, Grace’s initial overtones of friendship are frostily rebuffed by James. He is quick to belittle the woes of the “her unmarried mothers” in comparison to the treatment of gay men when Grace mentions a date in time when both issues largely became accepted. It is fair to say that the modern day characterisation of Grace, Andrew and James feels a little wooden, with the stilted atmosphere not genuinely convincing as the friction escalates. James takes umbrage and seems to delight in portraying himself as a modern day Oscar Wilde, dragging some kind of ball and chain behind him, but one event causes all that to change..
When James and Andrew witness their friends murder outside a London nightclub in a homophobic attack, it destabilises James entirely. He is unable to write, scared of his own shadow and when Grace shows him kindness it heightens into a passionate encounter, leaving her pregnant. But when Andrew is inevitably told, it marks the parting of the ways for the formerly close Easton siblings and this is the point when finishing her thesis, a lonely Grace escapes into the historical manuscript relaying the travails of another pair of siblings in the 1920’s, themselves distantly related to James. Notably one story, the historical story of John and Maud Goodwin proved significantly more involving and well-crafted. There was no doubt that as the novel progresses and transitions into Grace’s reading of the 1951 written novel by Martin Greenwell, the prose became markedly more comfortable and indeed believable. The historical story occupies the largest section of the prose and centres on a young teachers love for the poorly educated office clerk, Bertie Webber, a man with more experience in such matters. When John’s fifteen-year-old sister, Maud, single encounter with a schoolfriend’s brother leaves her pregnant and the Goodwin family keen to handle the matter in their own way, John takes his sister under his wing and the siblings depart and present themselves as a young married couple in their new home of Dartcombe. However, when John attempts to share his own burden with sister, Maud, her hostility and reaction marks the start of both their lives taking a darker turn and resulting in John’s unworthy lover taking advantage of the situation.
As the two stories come together in the resulting denouement, The Child’s Child served to show me how in terms of acceptance, homosexuality is still far behind illegitimacy, and with the impending murder trial of the friend of Andrew and James looming, the 2011 situation comes to the fore once again. The overriding themes under examination were that of disgrace, shame and ultimately, betrayal, but Maud’s reaction and the 1920’s experience feels more believable and is the more emotive . However, The Child’s Child wasn’t all plain sailing for me and I had a number of issues with plot specifics. It is ironic that Grace’s supervisor directed her thesis away from being extended into real-life and hence becoming a social science tract, because as the later part of the 1920 story progressed it did rather come to resemble a social history on Victorian Britain. In the main though, the clearly well researched social history is naturally integrated in the storyline and the background is very insightful.
Although the two stories that Barbara Vine links are both very poignant, I cannot deny that The Child’s Child was an unremittingly bleak portrayal of the evolving attitude toward homosexuality. Undoubtedly societies attitude to single parents and unmarried mothers has radically changed, but the miserable fate of John Goodwin and later, Andrew Easton, is a sobering read. Whilst The Child’s Child is not without its flaws, and I wasn’t convinced by the modern story, Vine offers a honest and brave portrayal of homosexuality and illegitimacy and how some attitudes have changed and pitifully, how some have not. A clever structure and the historical story will live long in the memory for the harrowing failure of John Goodwin, a man who deserved far more.
The writing is good, as always. But I am in two minds about the story. I enjoyed getting to know the modern day characters, although they sometimes act in ways which are never fully explained, or understood (perhaps I am just too daft?). Ruth Rendell (by any name) is a fiercely intelligent writer, but some parts of the story are just plain perplexing.
The book within the book outstayed its welcome. I understand that it is meant to juxtapose 1930's attitudes and mores with contemporary attitudes, values and mores, but could have been done more effectively (in my humble opinion) if it was shorter and if one could have developed some kind of affinity for the 'inner' story's main characters. As it is Maud is just about one of the most selfish and self-centred characters, apart from Bertie, that I know. Initially I felt empathy for Maud, but she just irritated and irked me at the end.
I would have liked to see more character development in the 'outer' story. Like some of the other reviewers said the last part of the book felt rushed. Not an entirely satisfactory read.
I was disappointed with this book. The present-day and past stories are *not* "intertwined," as others have said -- it's more like a sandwich, with two thin slices of 2011 on either side of a lumpy chunk from 1929 into the 1950s. I liked only a few of the characters in this part of the book and didn't really care much about any of them. The 2011 story has little substance or character development, despite considerable potential. I kept thinking how much more I liked Vine's book A Dark-Adapted Eye, which shares a similar time period and setting. For anyone who is new to Vine's writing, I would highly recommend the earlier book but not this one.
Well, I'm finished. And sadly I found there was little "there" there.
I decided to read this right away after reading friend Teresa's review. I've read far fewer of the Vine/Rendell cannon and wondered if that might impact my response to the novel. Simply put, apparently not. As usual, I am not going to rehash plot. What I am going to say is that there is something missing here and it seems to be a large dollop of suspense. There is a story and a story within the story. Yes. Are there any true moments of mystery amidst the developing characters? Well....not so much. Are the characters multi-faceted, interesting, more than ciphers. Well...not to this reader.
I intend to continue reading the wonderful backlog of Barbara Vine works I haven't read yet and wonder if there is another great one to come.
A story set in the past and present. John and Maud are brother and sister in 1929. He is a homosexual and she is 15 and pregnant. There parents are methodists. John convinces Maid to pretend to be his wife in Devon. He is a teacher and provides an income for them and his despicable conscience free lover who is in London.
In the present a sister and her brother Andrew a homosexual inherit a house and live together. Then his lover Andrew moves in. The men witness a murder and James falls to pieces. In an unplanned stupid moment the sister gets pregnant by James who she doesn’t even like.
Meanwhile Maud has given birth to Sophie and has become morose, bitter and a snob. John is murdered by Bertie and Maud inherits some money from her wealthy grandmother. Over the years Maud becomes more bitter, mean and paranoid about appearances.
The ending was odd. No idea what happened with Maud after she remarried. The sisters brother was stabbed in an assault but survived and forgave her for sleeping with his lover. All a bit odd but very readable.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
In the dictionary there should be a picture of this book next to "phoned-in." Truly a sad effort. The writing was at about a third grade level. The novel begins in 2011, with what I guess could be called a frame story. A youngish woman is writing her dissertation on unwed mothers in literature. She lives with her gay brother and his new lover in the house they have just inherited from a grandmother. Although she and the gay lover strongly dislike each other, one day he suddenly and, need it be said, inexplicably, seduces her and she becomes pregnant. She has been given by an elderly friend an unpublished novel that his father wrote in the 1950s about an unwed mother and a gay male relationship. The largest chunk of The Child's Child is this unpublished novel, also called The Child's Child, which begins in 1929 and finishes with the Second World War. Then we jump back to 2011 for a few pages and the book wraps up rapidly and meaninglessly.
The point of the novel seems to be to remind us that unwed mothers and gay men were treated horribly for most of recorded history. But Vine isn't able to infuse any real drama into this truism. There was one moment that should have been made the centerpiece of the novel but wasn't, when one of the gay lovers in the 1929-1945 story murders the other. For me this came out of the blue - not necessarily in a bad way - but then the murder was just allowed to "die on the Vine," to coin a phrase. No one really seemed to notice or care all that much that the murdered man had disappeared from their midst even though he was one of the book's main characters and had numerous family members. Finally, pages upon pages later, someone thought to begin an investigation of his disappearance and death.
The only emotion this novel made me feel was relief that women no longer leave their soiled menstrual towels in a bucket of cold water under the scullery sink.
I don't know why critics call this plot within a plot ingenious. It is not, and it is contrived. I cared little for any of the characters and felt the interior plot much too long and drawn out. So much more could have been made of the parallels to make this an interesting novel.
As I have said many times before, and will no doubt say again, even Barbara Vine/Ruth Rendell writing at not her best, is still better than most. Sadly, this does fall into the "not her best" category. The premise is this: a woman working on her PhD about the representation of unwed mothers in British literature, who lives with her gay brother, becomes pregnant out of wedlock. At the same time she is given a never-published novel by an otherwise famous novelist about a 1930s brother and sister: he's gay and she becomes pregnant out of wedlock. The book is then both of these stories: beginning with the contemporary, then the "novel," then back to the contemporary.
There are some big differences, of course: contemporary siblings are living now, and the others are living in the 30s and then 40s. And the girl in the novel is 15, not the twenty-something of the contemporary protagonist. But otherwise the novel is clearly meant to be exploring the differences and similarities between societal acceptance of and prejudice toward both unwed motherhood and homosexuality. The "novel within a novel" is interesting, subtle, and well written. The good news also is that it forms the bulk of the whole book. But the contemporary parts on either side are clunky, heavy-handed, and, especially in Part III, wildly implausible. Rendell/Vine still manages wonderful insights into character, human nature, and motivation; I just tend to prefer when she puts all those skills to work in service of a classic whodunnit. Or at least a novel that didn't try to hit you over the head with its commentary on contemporary social issues (and I actually agree with Rendell on all her issues!).
A surprising disappointment, Barbara Vine's new novel reads like a first draft, or even worse, a work in progress that needed to be re-thought. The book is comprised of a story within a story, with the tale in the past being a novel based on real events that the main character in the framing story is reading. Both narratives deal with an unwed mother, her brother, and the brother's male lover. The framing narrative takes place in the present, with the historical story taking place between the world wars in the English countryside. One of the drawbacks of the book is that Vine seems to favor polemic over plot: the main themes of the book deal with the social intolerance affecting her characters in the past, when social strictures were more rigid and judgmental, while the present-day characters seem to be freed from this oppression. The problem is, that observation was made in one sentence, and yet Vine seems to think it is somehow worthy of embroidery across the span of a full length novel. Unfortunately, beyond this obvious fact, and the "coincidence" of the relationships of the trio of characters in each story (which can't really be said to be coincidental when this is the deliberate construct of the author), any further comparison of the parallel narratives seems forced and unbelievable. This being Vine/Rendell, I fully expected some sardonic plot twist to tie the twin stories together across time, and the truncated and bewildering ending left me doubly disappointed with the novel. This is a dully plotted and thematically obtuse book peopled with unsympathetic and unpleasant characters. A rare misstep from a usually reliable author.
After reviewing others' opinions, I can see why they vary so widely. This Barbara Vine book is a story within a story, which often presents its own problems. For me, I found that I had lost track of the original characters and their tales when I became absorbed in the second, necessitating that I turn back to reestablish these facts. As a result of the aforementioned, I felt that Vine's narrative suffered.
While this was certainly not one of Vine's best offerings, there were certain strengths which appealed to me. The stories were based on homosexuality, unwed motherhood and the attitudes toward each today and in previous generations. The author, with her usual skill, painted vivid pictures of the characters involved. Generally one would discover these attributes early on in the narration, but Vine gradually built these traits in her accounting in this book. Most of the writing did not include her usual suspenseful events, but the conclusion did involve a tension-filled interlude.
My professional career as a Nurse Practitioner spans many decades and many societal changes. I clearly remember as a young RN caring for unwed women from our local "home" for such young ladies. Most were encouraged to relinquish their infants. The general attitude toward these mothers was pity- in many cases shunning. Today, most of us know someone who has given birth to an infant without benefit of marriage. Homosexuality has been relieved of some of the stigmas by many with changes in marital legislation. From these viewpoints, I felt that Vine had treated these topics well.
I am not yet prepared to "write off" BV/ RR from my must read lists. She continues to exhibit her great writing skills.
For something so obviously attempting to come off as steeped in 19th century literature, The Child's Child feels awfully rushed - character introduction is fairly slapdash, contrivances of plot jumbled together such as to feel forced, and then just when there might actually be a little honest dramatic tension building we cut to the narrative-within-the-narrative, where the story proceeds...well, nowhere, really.
Structurally the novel echoes the fictions it references so frequently, aping something you might find in Bronte, but tonally it feels quite clipped and modern, undercutting the parallels Rendell seems so keen to draw. Worse, there's virtually no change in voice between the first person narrative and the third-person novella within the novel. Sure, that could be deliberate, but it could also just be weak writing.
I wish to God I could remember where I read the glowing review that set me on this mediocre path; I expected Carlos Ruiz Zafon and got a watered-down Minette Walters instead.
This is the first book I've read by Ruth Rendell and it may well be my last. The summary of the story sounded so appealing to me--a brother and sister who have just inherited an old home in England, the discovery of an unpublished manuscript written by a famous author, and a mystery that links the two. I always enjoy past and present parallel storylines and any book that has a story within it is usually a hit with me. But I thought Rendell spent so much time on the story set in the past (over two-thirds of the book) that the story in the present at the beginning and the end of the book felt like bookends or placeholders. The most compelling part of the book was the first 75 pages which told the beginning of the present-day storyline. Also, none of the characters were even remotely likeable, so I just didn't feel invested at all.
This is the last book written by Ruth Rendell as Barbara Vine and, although interesting, is not quite up to what I usually expect from this author. It is a book-within-a-book plot which has certain overlapping themes about the moral and social environment of England in the early part of the 20th century and the present day..........the changes in attitude toward same sex love and children born out of wedlock. Basically the first person narrator is reading the unpublished book of a famous author - a book which was turned down by all publishers in the 1930s because of the "offensive" content - and finds that there are certain parallels with her own life. That's about it and then the book ends abruptly, very abruptly and I was left wondering exactly what point Vine was making, if any. An odd book but still worth a look if you don't have anything else sitting on your tbr shelf.
I usually like Ruth Rendell (AKA Barbra Vine) very much and as usual, this book is very well written. But I will agree with several other readers who commented that they are of two minds about the story. For Vine, I am surprised that I didn't really like any — and I mean any — of the characters either in the main story or the story within the main story. I also couldn't generate much empathy for any of the characters.
The main story is that of a modern woman who is completing her doctorate thesis in a literary comparison of sexual mores, dealing with pregnant unmarried women. She is asked to read an unpublished manuscript written in the 1930s about a 15-year-old girl, Maud, who gets pregnant and how her family reacts to the news, especially her gay brother, John, who willingly agrees to play the role of her husband in a new town, so that she can avoid the shame of her pregnancy. But things don't go well: her brother is in love with an uneducated man (and one who seems to be especially crude and cruel — what is the attraction other than the physical?) who causes untold grief and suffering for John.
Similarly, the researcher, Grace, has a gay brother, Andrew, and somehow she lets her brother's lover, James — who is somewhat insensitive to her research and hostile to her — make love to her (why? Even she can't explain it and its not believable anyway). Shortly afterwards, Grace finds herself pregnant. By their actions both Grace and James are guilty of betraying Andrew, but her brother leaves her and goes off with his lover.
Most of the book is focused on manuscript — the tale within the tale — which follows the young woman through much of her life and that of her own daughter. It goes on far too long and is far too dreary. I couldn't wait to find out what happens in the other tale, but when the book returned to Grace, her story is given short shrift and frankly is not satisfying either.
If this book was written to develop a good discussion about how we treat others who are different from us, it fails. Any discussion I would have would be on how shallow and selfish the characters are, how they do unlikely things that do nothing to move the story along, and finally, instead of being interested in what happens to them, I really, really didn't care.
A new novel by Barbara Vine is something to cheer about. This is Ruth Rendell's first Barbara Vine novel since 2008's THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT, and for me is her best since 2002's THE BLOOD DOCTOR (a book that many of her readers are divided on). She revisits two themes she has touched upon in previous Vine novels, the stigmas of illegitimacy and homosexuality.
The book is summarized on its publisher's website thus: "When their grandmother dies, Grace and Andrew Easton inherit her sprawling, book-filled London home, Dinmont House. Rather than sell it, the adult siblings move in together, splitting the numerous bedrooms and studies. The arrangement is unusual, but ideal for the affectionate pair—until the day Andrew brings home a new boyfriend. A devilishly handsome novelist, James Derain resembles Cary Grant, but his strident comments about Grace’s doctoral thesis soon puncture the house’s idyllic atmosphere. When he and Andrew witness their friend’s murder outside a London nightclub, James begins to unravel, and what happens next will change the lives of everyone in the house. Just as turmoil sets in at Dinmont House, Grace escapes into reading a manuscript—a long-lost novel from 1951 called The Child’s Child—never published because of its frank depictions of an unwed mother and a homosexual relationship. The book is the story of two siblings born a few years after World War One. This brother and sister, John and Maud, mirror the present-day Andrew and Grace: a homosexual brother and a sister carrying an illegitimate child. Acts of violence and sex will reverberate through their stories."
The novel-within-a-novel gives an interesting depiction of the changing moral landscapes of our times from the early-to-mid-20th century until the 21st: three generations of women each face different reactions and options regarding out-of-wedlock pregnancy (obviously by 2011 there is little shame or scandal attached to this) but even with the progress of the past half-century, homophobia sadly still exists and can still have fatal results.
This is perhaps a more straightforward novel than we've had previously from this author.
At first I thought this was going to be one of the better books by Ruth Rendell writing as Barbara Vine, when a doctoral student writing a thesis on unmarried mothers in Victorial literature is given an unpublished novel on the same topic, but set in the 1920s and 1930s to read. At the beginning it showed promise of being something like Possession by A.S. Byatt, or, if not quite at that level, like a Robert Goddard novel, with a mystery in the past coming back to haunt people in the present. I kept reading, hoping for some sort of dénouement, which never came.
The past action is all in the unpublished novel, which, dealing with unmarried mothers and homosexuality, could not be published when it was written, as those were taboo topics in those days. The thesis about how the theme of unmarried mothers was dealt with in Victorial literature piqued my interest, as I had just read Oliver Twist, where that is one of the central themes.
But The child's child is rather disappointing, as it comes in the form of a novella wrapped in a novelette, with very little connection between them. The novella is supposed to be based on the life of a great uncle of one of the characters in the wrapping story, but the connection is not made clear or explained, though one is led to expect that at some point it will be.
Barbara Vine has written better books in this genre in the past -- one of them is Asta's book, which I must perhaps re-read to see why I remember it as so much better than this one.
This is an exceptional novel about love and prejudice and about changing social values. As other reviewers have noted, the novel is a story within a story, both dealing with attitudes concerning homosexuality and children born out of wedlock. The embedded story, which covers the period 1929-1947, focuses on three generations of an unloving family and the consequences to its members when they violate the mores of the period. In that era, homosexuality is a crime and an illegitimate child brings shame on the family and the mother. The family, a product of the social values of the era, turns its back on the family members who most need their love amd help. A sister scorns her homosexual brother and is unmoved by his murder. A mother, whose mother has cast her out, casts out her own daughter for committing the same error she did: becoming pregnant out of wedlock.
The modern story, starting in 2011, shows how differently things are for those whose family love and support them and illumines how changing social mores prevent the ostracisms and some of the prejudices of the past. Even the brother who feels he has been wronged by the one night stand his lover has with his sister and her resulting pregnancy comes around in the end. Even though there is still some extreme prejudice against homosexuality -- bringing murder and physical assault -- the family's love and support contrast with the scorn of the earlier period and bring vastly different consequences. The loveless world of the embedded story illuminates and makes even more poignant the love of the framing story. It's a well written and absorbing tale of changing social values, how those changes effect individuals, and of the value of love. I highly recommend it.
I’ve always preferred reading Ruth Rendell when she writes as Barbara Vine. I read this book in a day. The Child’s Child is a novel within a novel. Siblings, Andrew and Grace Easton, inherit Dinmont House in London. They both love the sprawling property and decide to move in together. Grace is working on a thesis about unwed mothers in English literature when Andrew falls in love with the gorgeous novelist, James Derain. James moves in with Andrew but is dismissive of Grace’s work. He is only interested in how unfairly gay men have been treated in history. Andrew and James witness the murder of a friend, persecuted for being gay. James falls to pieces as the date of the trial approaches. Grace comforts him, and they end up sleeping together. They agree it will never happen again and will not tell Andrew. But Grace is pregnant, and Andrew and James leave Dinmont House. Grace escapes the situation by reading an unpublished manuscript from 1951 called The Child's Child, about siblings, John and Maud born after World War 1. The homosexual brother and unwed mother mirror Andrew and Grace. This part makes up the bulk of the novel which annoyed me at first but I adapted, glossed over the excess descriptions, and enjoyed the story. Vine shows us how society has and hasn’t changed. Themes of disgrace, betrayal and judgement echo through both stories. But it is Vine’s insight into the petty, mean-spirited side of human nature that shatters our civilised veneer. The more we change the more we stay the same.
I have loved Barbara Vine/Ruth Rendell since I stumbled across Anna's Book in a library in Rancho Penasquitos, CA back in the early 90s. Once I discovered this fabulous and, thankfully, prolific author I scoured the shelves of every public library in San Diego County looking for more, more, more. Happily, or sadly perhaps, I have read everything she has written and am now reduced to an occasional re-read while I wait for her next offering.
Unfortunately...The Child's Child disappointed me. I still admire Vine/Rendell's skill as a story teller (hence the 3 stars instead of 2) but where is the psychological suspense that was her watermark? As with many of her novels there is a story within a story, but neither one was particularly gripping. The themes of homosexuality, dysfunctional families, and illegitimacy have been done before, much more successfully, in previous works. The usual events-spiralling-out-of-control frisson was entirely lacking, in my opinion, or rather, it never really got off the ground, ending as it did with an abrupt and rather pointless murder, after which nothing seemed to happen, for years, if ever. The reader gets treated to the continuing saga of the intensely detestable Maud who never has to pay for being so hideous. The murder is solved, vaguely and unconvincingly. The modern-day narrator has an equally unconvincing Scary Moment which ends well. That's all, folks.
I think I’ve read every one of Ruth Rendell’s books written as Barbara Vine, and I’ve truly enjoyed them all. THE CHILD’S CHILD does not break that trend. The book begins with a modern day researcher of single motherhood and her gay brother inheriting a house that they intend to live in together. Predictably, one of them (the brother) falls in love and brings a third character into the mix, producing a fatal triangle. The new lover argues with the sister over whether society treated homosexuals or unwed mothers worse a century ago, and the remainder of the book attempts to answer that question. Our researcher is given an unpublished manuscript which in many ways parallels the modern day drama. The structure of THE CHILD’S CHILD is a book within a book, and both stories are compelling. Nonetheless, the structure was difficult for me because the embedded book engaged me so completely that by the time I finished it I had distanced myself from the modern day story bookending it. Rendell/Vine does a tremendous job of giving each story its own life while having them follow somewhat similar trajectories. In these psychological mysteries, murders take place. In this as in most books Rendell pseudonymously authors as Vine, it is not the who-done-it that is the mystery, however; it is the why. As always, I look forward to the next Vine book with anticipation.
This book has two parallel plots of unmarried pregnant women living with their gay brothers. In the contemporary story, Grace Easton becomes pregnant after a one-night stand with her brother’s lover. Understandably, tension arises between Grace and her brother, and she takes refuge in her thesis on the portrayal of unwed mothers and illegitimate children in English literature and in reading an unpublished novel. This novel, which begins in 1929, tells the story of a teacher, John Goodwin, and his struggles with homosexuality and his shielding of his sister Maud from the scorn of society when she becomes an unwed mother at the age of fifteen.
I found the framing story, that of Grace Easton set in 2011, not to be as compelling as the story within that story. Grace just didn’t come alive for me the way that Maud does. Grace is a flat character whose outstanding trait is her self-centeredness; she gives little thought to how her actions will affect others. Maud is a fully developed character who arouses conflicting emotions in the reader. Sympathy is felt for her because of the callous way in which she is treated when she violates the social mores of her time, but that sympathy is replaced with contempt when she becomes a bitter woman whose treatment of her brother reflects the same self-righteous attitude which condemned her.
The parallel stories, in their exploration of social mores and the consequences of violating them, show that society has come a long way in its acceptance of single parenthood and homosexuality, although prejudices still exist about the latter, so some enlightenment is still needed. The reader may find him/herself taking sides on a debate that is raised early in the novel. James, the father of Grace’s child, argues that, historically, homosexuals were more harshly mistreated than unmarried mothers: “’Sending men to prison for being gay was outrageous, an affront to their human rights. Your girls just got looked down on by a bunch of old women. . . . No girl went to jail for having a baby.’” Grace counters with, “’But they did. . . . Or the equivalent. They were sectioned and put in mental hospitals, called lunatic asylums then, for nothing more than having a child without being married. Some remained in them for years.’” James’s rebuttal is, “’You’re doing what women always do, claim an unfair share of the world’s ills. . . . Those girls . . . had only to put on a wedding ring and they’d be all right. Men were ostracized, attacked, killed . . . blackmailed, outlawed . . . in daily fear of discovery.’”
This book may not be what a devoted reader of Barbara Vine/Ruth Rendell might expect. There are murders, but there is no real suspense. The culprits are known to the reader and it is only a matter of time before they meet their comeuppance. Nonetheless, the book is an enjoyable, quick read.
Loved this book which I devoured whilst my daughter was having an operation and it kept me engrossed at a difficult time so hats off to Barbara Vine/Ruth Rendell for that. Barbara Vine/Ruth Rendell is one of my favourite writers and this book was just as gripping as all her previous. I tend to favour the Barbara Vines more although sometimes the RR do seem to be very similar as well. I found the book to brilliantly evoke the era of late 1920’s/50’s where fathers did disown their daughters or send them to workhouses for falling pregnant before marriage. The supressed repression of the gay character John in the past thread is done beautifully by Vine. You can almost taste his frustration and agony at not being able to live his own life and the shame of the soiled sheets that have to be disposed of. In contrast to his lover, John is a beautifully portrayed tragic figure. There is a brooding claustrophobic pressure to the book. As with many Vines, you are unaware of where this sly spider is trapping you in her web but you are content to follow the story. One aspect of The Child’s Child that I found particularly haunting was how the sins of the parents repeat themselves through their children. We can see this in Maud who starts off a very sympathetic character and then you find yourself despising her more and more in her own treatment of her beautiful daughter, Hope. It was also skilful how we saw the impact on the relationship of Maud and John who are both outcasts of their society and times. The present day thread wasn’t as engrossing as the historical and did feel a little abrupt at the end. There wasn’t a lot of suspense in the scenes of what happens with the present day characters but Vine is still top of her game. Scenes of English village life are believable. Vine uses broad strokes to depict eras but they are always believable broad strokes. Maud was an interesting character who reminded me of Vera Hillyard, a previous character from another of my favourite Vines, A Dark-Adapted Eye. Definitely want to re-read this one to see how she put some of the threads together and giving it five stars for being able to transport me at a very stressful time. Exactly what you want a good book to do!
'The Child's Child" is a novel within a novel, two individual but interlinking entities and for me, two seperate but interlinking opinions. For the outer layer which introduces us to Grace, her brother Andrew and his lover James in present day London, only two stars seemed appropriate. The dialogue for three thirty somethings, and I speak as a fellow thirty something, seemed antiquated and awkward. Perhaps this was because the interior novel is set in the 1920-50's and a further link was being made apart from the subject matter but it just annoyed me, as did Grace and James as characters. The purpose of this opening and closing portions of the book was to draw a contrast between unmarried pregnancy and homosexuality as it was viewed in the early nineteenth century and in the early twentieth. This was achieved if with a slightly heavy hand but I appreciated the fact that Barbara Vine made clear that being homosexual can still be difficult even in 2012 despite the fact that so much has changed for the better over the decades.
As for the novel within, also called "The Child's Child", I really enjoyed it and would give it four stars. Again, none of the main characters were particularly appealing, especially Maud and Bertie and I wondered if this was to be attributed to how societies standards of morality and the view of their "negative" situations had made it impossible to be anything else, yet negative or not, I still wanted to find out what happened to them and the pages were quickly turned.
This was my first Barbara Vine novel, won in a Goodreads giveaway and I think I was expecting more psychological suspense from reviews I have read of her work in the past, however, I cannot blame the author for my expectations and although I found sections of the book irritating, I really appreciated the inner story and will be interested to read more of her work in the future.
The Child's Child is a framed narrative built around the experiences of homosexual men and unwed mothers in the early to mid-twentieth century, and then again in a current time frame. In each case, the central dynamic of the narrative revolves around a woman facing an unexpected pregnancy and her relationship with her gay brother.
The female characters in this book are fashioned around a core of selfishness, the brothers, naivete. The contemporary storyline is underdeveloped and weak, and detracts from the more robust story of Maud and John. Maud,in particular, devolves gracelessly from a slightly willful child to a bitter woman. Originally empathetic, her pettiness and stubborn nature emerge as she moves throughout life.
The parallels are somewhat clumsy and far too obvious in some cases - particularly in that Grace, the twenty-first century unwed mother-to-be, is supposed to be consumed with the writing of her thesis on the changing perceptions of unwed mothers in literature. If the book had been limited to the historical narrative, I would have no problem increasing my rating to 3.5 - perhaps higher. In fact, I will recommend that other people read it, but only that they read the historical component and avoid the contemporary one.
A sister and brother inherit a house. The brother invites his gay friend to stay. The gay friend is a not so nice person. Something happens between the gay friend and the sister.
My thoughts after reading this book...
This book is almost a story within a story...one that happens now and one that happened in 1929. One story involves a brother and a sister and his boyfriend. The other involves a family that has things to hide...quite a few things to hide. For some reason I loved the older story a bit more than the first story. It was fascinating...interesting...quite odd! The older story mirrors Grace and Andrew's story...the present day brother and sister.
What I loved about this book...
I loved its English setting and I loved the unusual story. How sad it must have been to hide pregnancies and sexuality in those very old olden days.
What I did not love...
I was pages away from finishing this book and it was ripped off of my IPad!
Final thoughts...
If you love Englishy dysfunctional books...this is the book to grab!
Wow. I hate to give anything by Ruth Rendell/Barbara Vine (one of my all-time favorite, favorite writers) anything less than five stars. And I usually don't feel the need to. But The Child's Child was disappointing, sadly. I agree with the other reviewers who wrote that it starts out well... in the beginning I was hopeful that I'd love it. But then (too quickly), the book jumps from its present day story (which contains characters I loved and wanted to keep spending time with) to a novel-within-a-novel, which is almost unbearably sad in places (I didn't have a problem with that) and which is centered, for the most part, on a character who's so detestable she's almost a caricature. I did have a problem with that. Maud seems unreal to me, and she takes up much of the (long) middle section of the book. The book finally returns to the characters and situations from the first section, but this final section is incredibly short--it feels rushed and implausible and doesn't do justice to the characters who were just beginning to come alive when Vine introduced them. Sad. I still love you, though, Ruth/Barbara.
I've only just finished reading The Child's Child and, unlike many of you, I quite enjoyed the middle, historical section. On the other hand, like many of you, I do agree that most of the shortcomings of the book were in the modern setting-- incomplete character development and, especially, the jarringly abrupt ending! The value of the mid-section, in my GLBTQ opinion, was its "familiar" presentation. By that, I mean author Rendell (as Vine) comfortably interwove many of the accepted social teachings and practices of the time into the setting and did an excellent job of building up our knowledge base so we could understand the actions chosen. I believe the book within the book (the actual manuscript titled The Child's Child) to be a good example of historical fiction for the period-- in fact, from that perspective, I would have rated the book with five stars. I downgraded my rating because of some confusing grammatical constructions and the underdeveloped modern sections. I do have to confess that this was my first reading of Ruth Rendell.
Not the best Vine/Rendell. Why the idea of literature and real life mirroring each other is good, the characters are flat, the mystery isn't really a mystery, and there isn't any suspense. The message is worthwhile, but meh to the book.