Many thanks to NetGalley and Embla Books for the opportunity to read this advance reader’s copy.
Any book with library in the title (or bookstore) will draw me right in, but this novel, while it confirms the importance of books, doesn’t have much to do with libraries. If there is a central concept, it is the national decennial census of Great Britain. Not coincidentally, each of the four storylines, and each of the four dominant female characters in them, have a loyalty to the census that has little to do with its purpose of enumerating the population.
Starting with Ursula, who is so transformed by marrying the good and kind John Black that she suddenly becomes a rebel, a suffragist and a vegetarian, filling out the census document is a profound declaration of selfhood. Until women received the vote, they were effectively the property of their husbands and fathers, and only men could fill out the census form. With her husband’s approval, Ursula and her fellow suffragists defy the law by staying out until midnight on census day so they are not counted—until they count by being voting citizens. I didn’t know about this historical connection between the census and suffrage and it was a fascinating discovery.
The next chapter, 1911, follows stepdaughter Ann (later Annie) as she grapples with her late biological mother’s constant attempts to undermine her. This is a truth that emerges only very slowly. It gradually becomes apparent that the first Mrs Black was unhinged, very possibly a paranoid schizophrenic, who kept an unnaturally close watch over her household. She was always ready to denigrate her son Frank, her maid Isobel, and her servant Dave. Ursula is the heart and soul of kindness as the three vulnerable parties carry the trauma through.
Each story is about a strong woman who can happily live alone at 25 Library Terrace. Eventually each of them meets or is introduced to people who are navigating rough waters—bereavement, heartbreak, unemployment, homelessness—and agree to rent rooms to them. Eventually these interactions become solid friendships or even romantic relationships, leading to unconventional but nonetheless loving families. It is as if the house itself, shiny and new when John Black had it built for his ailing first wife and two young children, plays its own role in the unfolding history of several generations. It truly gives them shelter, almost magically bringing together, at the right time,those who need each other.
There are places where an otherwise flowing narrative falters. The stories have characters in common, but. As much as they are linked and situated in the same but ever-changing house, they often end abruptly and sometimes the connections are unclear. Tess, for example , appears in 2011, and also in 2021. The house’s then-inheritor, Georgia, has a long history with its previous families. Having provided refuge for Tess, the elderly Georgia then departs for an unexpected new opportunity. She leaves the house in Tess’s hands but not before encourages her to take in a motherless family in need. And here the story ends, leaving readers to assume what may take shape.
In the end, the writing is wonderful, the characters are sharply drawn, and the house has a magnetic pull for readers as much as characters.