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The Queen of the Tambourine
An alternative cover for this ISBN can be found here
Eliza believes she could never hurt anybody. Her beauty, her religion, her concern for friends and neighbours give her - she thinks - an oracular power. Then, mysteriously, the newcomer across the road disappears, and no one will tell Eliza why.
Eliza believes she could never hurt anybody. Her beauty, her religion, her concern for friends and neighbours give her - she thinks - an oracular power. Then, mysteriously, the newcomer across the road disappears, and no one will tell Eliza why.
227 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1991
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1289 people want to read
About the author
Jane Gardam
67 books543 followersJane Mary Gardam was an English writer of children's and adult fiction and literary critic. She also penned reviews for The Spectator and The Telegraph, and wrote for BBC Radio. She lived in Kent, Wimbledon, and Yorkshire. She won numerous literary awards, including the Whitbread Award twice. She was appointed Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) in the 2009 New Year Honours.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 285 reviews
December 24, 2019
Every year in December I try to do some "clean-up reading" and pluck a few books off my shelves that have been sitting there for a while. This one seemed like a good choice because I love Jane Gardam and am never disappointed. I've read several through the years and have a few more left to go. I knew I could count on a great experience.
However.....what the heck? I was confused from the get-go, with Eliza Peabody being the most unreliable narrator in the history of literature. I couldn't believe a word she said. Was she hallucinating, did any of these people around her really exist, did she have one dog or two? Was she dangerous to herself or others? And why, because she had apparently been normal at one point in time. Was it the fact that her husband of 30 years left her, loneliness, age, menopause? I read and re-read some of the reviews, which told me to keep reading, it would all be made clear in the end. And it was, and it was worth it, and it was heartbreaking and uplifting, simply because Eliza never gave up.
Also, it's really easy to keep reading a book with so much wicked humor. Eliza may have been a nut-job, but she was right on target about her neighbors and their motives. She was the Queen of Snark. Her one-liners were masterful. I'd quote a few, but they need context to fully appreciate them.
So to future readers: If you've never read a Jane Gardam novel, this is not the place to start. But do start somewhere, because she is brilliant. And to Jane Gardam fans, don't give up. It's worth it in the end.
However.....what the heck? I was confused from the get-go, with Eliza Peabody being the most unreliable narrator in the history of literature. I couldn't believe a word she said. Was she hallucinating, did any of these people around her really exist, did she have one dog or two? Was she dangerous to herself or others? And why, because she had apparently been normal at one point in time. Was it the fact that her husband of 30 years left her, loneliness, age, menopause? I read and re-read some of the reviews, which told me to keep reading, it would all be made clear in the end. And it was, and it was worth it, and it was heartbreaking and uplifting, simply because Eliza never gave up.
Also, it's really easy to keep reading a book with so much wicked humor. Eliza may have been a nut-job, but she was right on target about her neighbors and their motives. She was the Queen of Snark. Her one-liners were masterful. I'd quote a few, but they need context to fully appreciate them.
So to future readers: If you've never read a Jane Gardam novel, this is not the place to start. But do start somewhere, because she is brilliant. And to Jane Gardam fans, don't give up. It's worth it in the end.
August 7, 2022
This was a disappointing read, especially since I liked ‘Old Filth’ and ‘The Flight of the Maidens, and also since this book was winner of the Whitbread Novel Award (1991). On the back cover, too, were accolades from Anita Brookner and Ruth Rendell. Oh well... 😕
Reading the synopsis of the book on the back inner cover of the dust jacket we learn that Eliza (major character of the book) is ‘on a self-propelled descent into madness’. The novel consists of a series of letters written by Eliza to Joan. Some of the letters do not read as such...unless one considers 20-page letters as prototypic of letters. In dribs and drabs, we learn that some of the letters Eliza writes do not get posted. So most of the time I couldn’t tell whether characters in the novel were actual characters (or existed only in her head), and whether events narrated by Eliza actually occurred, or were machinations of her madness. I also thought a lot of the writing was pretentious. Near the end of the book, the reader has some real facts about Eliza revealed although even then I wasn’t clear on some things...whether she was married to Henry or whether they had been long divorced...or whether Joan actually existed (near the end of the book, Joan apparently called her, but perhaps this was a delusion).
I’ve heard good things about her short stories and actually she appears to have more short story collections than novels, so I guess I will give one of them a gander sooner or later.
Reviews:
• https://www.seattletimes.com/entertai...
• https://heavenali.wordpress.com/2018/...
• https://hogglestock.com/2009/11/24/bo...
Reading the synopsis of the book on the back inner cover of the dust jacket we learn that Eliza (major character of the book) is ‘on a self-propelled descent into madness’. The novel consists of a series of letters written by Eliza to Joan. Some of the letters do not read as such...unless one considers 20-page letters as prototypic of letters. In dribs and drabs, we learn that some of the letters Eliza writes do not get posted. So most of the time I couldn’t tell whether characters in the novel were actual characters (or existed only in her head), and whether events narrated by Eliza actually occurred, or were machinations of her madness. I also thought a lot of the writing was pretentious. Near the end of the book, the reader has some real facts about Eliza revealed although even then I wasn’t clear on some things...whether she was married to Henry or whether they had been long divorced...or whether Joan actually existed (near the end of the book, Joan apparently called her, but perhaps this was a delusion).
I’ve heard good things about her short stories and actually she appears to have more short story collections than novels, so I guess I will give one of them a gander sooner or later.
Reviews:
• https://www.seattletimes.com/entertai...
• https://heavenali.wordpress.com/2018/...
• https://hogglestock.com/2009/11/24/bo...
May 24, 2017
What is truly amazing about this book is how all the different pieces hold together! I would say that this is what characterizes Gardam’s books.
We are given a complicated puzzle that is begging to be solved. For people who love solving puzzles or mysteries, it is a must read.
When I started I was totally confused. On closing the book I marveled at how all the intricate details that had at first befuddled and exasperated me did make sense! By book’s end all is crystal clear. My first thought was that I ought to go back and reread the whole book, just for the delight of observing how all the parts made sense. At the same time I have to admit that I had been frustrated and annoyed during the first half of the whole book! What gave me trouble was that I didn't know what was true and what were imaginings. I guessed early on that the central character was not to be trusted! This is a book consisting of letters from Eliza to her neighbor friend who had gone off to Bangladesh. She is in her fifties and works in a hospice. Well maybe….and where is her husband, and how many dogs does she really have and does this woman have any mentally stability at all?!
I enjoyed the satirical humor, particularly that found in the middle of the book. Digs at modern day life - on feminism, on contemporary literature, on our need to stay busy, on what is proper to say and think.
There are some really great lines.
I enjoyed the love Eliza felt for the Fish family & kids. Yet I wouldn’t say that I came to care for any of the characters, not even Eliza! Rather than focusing on individuals, one’s attention is focused on making sense of what is true and what isn’t! I need to intimately relate to the characters in a story, and the book did not give me that.
The audiobook is very well narrated by Hollis McCarthy. Seriously, she made me smile with her wonderful intonations of different English and American dialects. Perfect speed and easy to follow.
******************
Bilgewater (4 stars)
Crusoe's Daughter (4 stars)
Old Filth (4 stars)
The Man in the Wooden Hat ( 4 stars)
God on the Rocks (3 stars)
The Queen of the Tambourine (3 stars)
A Long Way from Verona (3 stars)
So which book do I choose next by Jane Gardam? I am not about to stop here.
We are given a complicated puzzle that is begging to be solved. For people who love solving puzzles or mysteries, it is a must read.
When I started I was totally confused. On closing the book I marveled at how all the intricate details that had at first befuddled and exasperated me did make sense! By book’s end all is crystal clear. My first thought was that I ought to go back and reread the whole book, just for the delight of observing how all the parts made sense. At the same time I have to admit that I had been frustrated and annoyed during the first half of the whole book! What gave me trouble was that I didn't know what was true and what were imaginings. I guessed early on that the central character was not to be trusted! This is a book consisting of letters from Eliza to her neighbor friend who had gone off to Bangladesh. She is in her fifties and works in a hospice. Well maybe….and where is her husband, and how many dogs does she really have and does this woman have any mentally stability at all?!
I enjoyed the satirical humor, particularly that found in the middle of the book. Digs at modern day life - on feminism, on contemporary literature, on our need to stay busy, on what is proper to say and think.
There are some really great lines.
I enjoyed the love Eliza felt for the Fish family & kids. Yet I wouldn’t say that I came to care for any of the characters, not even Eliza! Rather than focusing on individuals, one’s attention is focused on making sense of what is true and what isn’t! I need to intimately relate to the characters in a story, and the book did not give me that.
The audiobook is very well narrated by Hollis McCarthy. Seriously, she made me smile with her wonderful intonations of different English and American dialects. Perfect speed and easy to follow.
******************
Bilgewater (4 stars)
Crusoe's Daughter (4 stars)
Old Filth (4 stars)
The Man in the Wooden Hat ( 4 stars)
God on the Rocks (3 stars)
The Queen of the Tambourine (3 stars)
A Long Way from Verona (3 stars)
So which book do I choose next by Jane Gardam? I am not about to stop here.
August 25, 2020
Just kind of OK for me. Figured out what was going on very early on.
May 26, 2012
There is no way in hell I can write a fair review of this novel. I adore Jane Gardam. I am a FAN. I am totally prejudiced. She is one of the best writers on the planet. That said, this is 4 stars, not quite 5. Say 4.8 stars.
Gardam may be best enjoyed by people who are no longer young. Her insights are continuous but tempered. She has enormous sympathy for the wounds that life inflicts but without an ounce of unbecoming sweetness. Gardam remains clear eyed, observant and sane. She has a perspective that only time allows.
The protagonist here, Eliza, is complex and thoroughly real, even when the events become unreal. Massively lonely, she nonetheless tries to create a self that is whole, well informed, helpful and participating in life. She fails at it. She writes letters to a former neighbor that, eventually, she realizes will never be returned and probably never received, but she must write, must try to have a presence in someone's life. She explains her life even as it tilts. She needs to matter to someone else even if that person becomes a fiction, a pretense. She needs a venue for her own point of view which her daily life does not allow. Her husband leaves her, which is more a tipping point than the reason that reality slips away.
Gardam first shows us the that Eliza's world believes that her contributions are wrong and inappropriate. Her neighbors and acquaintances distance themselves from her strong and inaccurate opinions. They rightly see her as lacking perception as to what the social graces are. She is odd and wrong. Unable to fit in, and lonely beyond bearing, reality becomes tilted. The slippery seas of her mind disorient the reader just as Eliza is disoriented. Then slowly, nearly accidentally, Eliza the crazy woman becomes a truer self, the insanity a road back to connection, perceptive about things that matter. Magically, Gardam redeems her character without losing faith with the essence. It is so well done that, as you believe in the madness, you can believe in the redemption. She is finally 'seen' by her neighbors, recognized as a person and as having value. As she is mad, she cares less about returning to the 'real' world until she slips back into sanity, finds a shore where she can rest and live.
There is nothing I can say that does justice to the balance, skill, and insights of Jane Gardam. Aside from her intellectual and emotional maturity, she controls plot, page and language superbly. She is a master.
So why not the full five stars? During the 'completely mad' pages, I lost my way for a little while. I suspect it was my failing, unable to let go of my own sanity enough to ride the wave with Eliza. It may be the reason some readers will fault the book. But it is so close to exactly right, it is a very small complaint.
Gardam may be best enjoyed by people who are no longer young. Her insights are continuous but tempered. She has enormous sympathy for the wounds that life inflicts but without an ounce of unbecoming sweetness. Gardam remains clear eyed, observant and sane. She has a perspective that only time allows.
The protagonist here, Eliza, is complex and thoroughly real, even when the events become unreal. Massively lonely, she nonetheless tries to create a self that is whole, well informed, helpful and participating in life. She fails at it. She writes letters to a former neighbor that, eventually, she realizes will never be returned and probably never received, but she must write, must try to have a presence in someone's life. She explains her life even as it tilts. She needs to matter to someone else even if that person becomes a fiction, a pretense. She needs a venue for her own point of view which her daily life does not allow. Her husband leaves her, which is more a tipping point than the reason that reality slips away.
Gardam first shows us the that Eliza's world believes that her contributions are wrong and inappropriate. Her neighbors and acquaintances distance themselves from her strong and inaccurate opinions. They rightly see her as lacking perception as to what the social graces are. She is odd and wrong. Unable to fit in, and lonely beyond bearing, reality becomes tilted. The slippery seas of her mind disorient the reader just as Eliza is disoriented. Then slowly, nearly accidentally, Eliza the crazy woman becomes a truer self, the insanity a road back to connection, perceptive about things that matter. Magically, Gardam redeems her character without losing faith with the essence. It is so well done that, as you believe in the madness, you can believe in the redemption. She is finally 'seen' by her neighbors, recognized as a person and as having value. As she is mad, she cares less about returning to the 'real' world until she slips back into sanity, finds a shore where she can rest and live.
There is nothing I can say that does justice to the balance, skill, and insights of Jane Gardam. Aside from her intellectual and emotional maturity, she controls plot, page and language superbly. She is a master.
So why not the full five stars? During the 'completely mad' pages, I lost my way for a little while. I suspect it was my failing, unable to let go of my own sanity enough to ride the wave with Eliza. It may be the reason some readers will fault the book. But it is so close to exactly right, it is a very small complaint.
August 17, 2011
How can a book be hilarious and heartbreaking at the same time? In Jane Gardam’s hands, this epistolary novel never takes a pot-shot at anyone (without good cause), but becomes increasingly specific, focusing especially on how women of a certain age manage their falling-apart lives. All kinds of lives are looked at: those who left; those who stayed; those who worked; those who did not. There is a distressing yet comforting sense of being a victim at a disaster, being looked after by those very same women of a certain age, all of whom have seen your life and others far worse—their own, perhaps—and who are willing to wrap their experience and compassion about one like a newly-sewn quilt, beautiful and awesome, and sometimes painful to behold.
Why painful? Because of all the work, mistakes, choices, energy that goes into making a quilt. Sometimes it’s a success, sometimes it isn’t. But sometimes we won’t know this until it is done. This book is also like a quilt, in that set pieces are created, and we laugh with jollity at the cleverness of the creation. When, finally, the time comes to stitch the pieces together, the whole suddenly becomes something else altogether and we stand mute at the meaning and magnificence of what Gardam has managed to do.
Our narrator, Eliza Peabody, begins to write letters to Joan, the woman living down the street. Eliza does not know Joan very well, but has come to have opinions about her, and feels it quite within her area of expertise to offer advice on her marriage, on her state of wellness, on her husband. She begins broadly, with two paragraphs one February, signing it Eliza (Peabody) and progresses, with increasing familiarity, through “Your sincere friend,” and “Your affectionate friend,” to “E,” and finally, dropping the signature altogether. The letters become much longer and more intimate. Joan, meanwhile, leaves the country and never responds to Eliza over the years of the correspondence.
What we learn about Eliza, then, is all there is. She is generous, thankfully, for it is her perceptions that guide us through the lives of her neighbors, her husband’s infidelities, her own housekeeping failures. She makes us laugh, cry, and beg for mercy. She makes me realize that Jane Gardam should be a household name and celebrated widely throughout the world. She is a national treasure.
Why painful? Because of all the work, mistakes, choices, energy that goes into making a quilt. Sometimes it’s a success, sometimes it isn’t. But sometimes we won’t know this until it is done. This book is also like a quilt, in that set pieces are created, and we laugh with jollity at the cleverness of the creation. When, finally, the time comes to stitch the pieces together, the whole suddenly becomes something else altogether and we stand mute at the meaning and magnificence of what Gardam has managed to do.
Our narrator, Eliza Peabody, begins to write letters to Joan, the woman living down the street. Eliza does not know Joan very well, but has come to have opinions about her, and feels it quite within her area of expertise to offer advice on her marriage, on her state of wellness, on her husband. She begins broadly, with two paragraphs one February, signing it Eliza (Peabody) and progresses, with increasing familiarity, through “Your sincere friend,” and “Your affectionate friend,” to “E,” and finally, dropping the signature altogether. The letters become much longer and more intimate. Joan, meanwhile, leaves the country and never responds to Eliza over the years of the correspondence.
What we learn about Eliza, then, is all there is. She is generous, thankfully, for it is her perceptions that guide us through the lives of her neighbors, her husband’s infidelities, her own housekeeping failures. She makes us laugh, cry, and beg for mercy. She makes me realize that Jane Gardam should be a household name and celebrated widely throughout the world. She is a national treasure.
March 23, 2013
Eliza Peabody is, it seems, a woman who is disintegrating. Through a series of letters written to Joan, a neighbour who appears to have run away to Bangladesh and makes no reply, she describes the breakdown of her marriage and her mental health. It is not always clear how reliable she is, but much is clarified towards the end of the book. There are many flashes of humour but my predomninant feeling was one of great sadness. Her life appears to be overshadowed by tragedy and it is only as the novel draws to a close that we begin to understand why that might be. Wonderful writing. A beautiful novel.
June 3, 2012
This is a novel of a woman in crisis, but, and it's a big but, it's difficult to identify exactly what the crisis is. Her life, her marriage, her neighborhood, all appear to be disintegrating before her eyes, behind her back and in her mind. So she writes letters. Welcome to the world of Eliza Peabody. And what a world it is. Full of pathos, farce and very funny vignettes. Don't miss this chance to experience someone else's crisis rather than live your own.
Highly recommended (and just what I needed on this dreary, rainy day).
Highly recommended (and just what I needed on this dreary, rainy day).
January 15, 2025
Geachte Mevrouw Gardam,
Eerbiedwaardig Fellow van de Royal Society of Literature,
Beste Jane,
Ik hoop dat ik je goed genoeg ken om dit te mogen zeggen.
En om je met je te mogen aanspreken.
Je boeken werden met prijzen overladen - je bent zelfs de énige levende auteur met niet één, maar twéé Costa Book Awards op de ongetwijfeld oerdegelijke commode in het theesalon van uw cottage in East Kent - maar toch... volgens mij heeft 'Queen of the Tambourine' de tand des tijds niet geheel ongeschonden doorstaan.
Dat het origineel uit 1991 stamt, mag natuurlijk als verzachtende omstandigheid worden ingeroepen, maar waarom - wààrom - verschijnt dit dan nù, 30 jaar later, voor het eerst in Nederlandse vertaling?
Wordt de markt al niet voldoende overspoeld met om aandacht schreeuwende debuten, verdienstelijke tweede worpen, halfslachtige pogingen en achterflap-meesterwerken? Moet de selectie niet nét iets strenger? Moet een uitgeverij niet wachten met publiceren van nieuw werk tot werkelijk iederéén 'Het Achtste Leven' en 'Verzamelde Werken' heeft gelezen?
Wellicht scoorden de vertalingen van eerdere titels niet slecht, waren de vertaalsters nu toch bezig én was het boek ook nog jarig, maar op deze publicatie zat - als ik zo vrij mag zijn - werkelijk niemand te wachten. Het schiet alle kanten op en gaat nergens over. Eliza Peabody is een beetje zot. Dat is het zowat, samengevat.
Vergeef me als ik mijn boekje te buiten ben gegaan, maar ik vond dat je dit wel mocht weten.
Ik wens je een zeer fijne 94ste verjaardag, zo over een maand of vier.
Hoogachtend,
Ief Stuyvaert
Eerbiedwaardig Fellow van de Royal Society of Literature,
Beste Jane,
Ik hoop dat ik je goed genoeg ken om dit te mogen zeggen.
En om je met je te mogen aanspreken.
Je boeken werden met prijzen overladen - je bent zelfs de énige levende auteur met niet één, maar twéé Costa Book Awards op de ongetwijfeld oerdegelijke commode in het theesalon van uw cottage in East Kent - maar toch... volgens mij heeft 'Queen of the Tambourine' de tand des tijds niet geheel ongeschonden doorstaan.
Dat het origineel uit 1991 stamt, mag natuurlijk als verzachtende omstandigheid worden ingeroepen, maar waarom - wààrom - verschijnt dit dan nù, 30 jaar later, voor het eerst in Nederlandse vertaling?
Wordt de markt al niet voldoende overspoeld met om aandacht schreeuwende debuten, verdienstelijke tweede worpen, halfslachtige pogingen en achterflap-meesterwerken? Moet de selectie niet nét iets strenger? Moet een uitgeverij niet wachten met publiceren van nieuw werk tot werkelijk iederéén 'Het Achtste Leven' en 'Verzamelde Werken' heeft gelezen?
Wellicht scoorden de vertalingen van eerdere titels niet slecht, waren de vertaalsters nu toch bezig én was het boek ook nog jarig, maar op deze publicatie zat - als ik zo vrij mag zijn - werkelijk niemand te wachten. Het schiet alle kanten op en gaat nergens over. Eliza Peabody is een beetje zot. Dat is het zowat, samengevat.
Vergeef me als ik mijn boekje te buiten ben gegaan, maar ik vond dat je dit wel mocht weten.
Ik wens je een zeer fijne 94ste verjaardag, zo over een maand of vier.
Hoogachtend,
Ief Stuyvaert
May 20, 2017
A fascinating book, told entirely in letters from the protagonist to a woman who had been a neighbour. But is Eliza sane, and how reliable a narrator is she?
Jane Gardam is a wonderful writer, and I could hardly bear to put this book down because I wanted to work out just what was going on, and I cared about the various characters.
Jane Gardam is a wonderful writer, and I could hardly bear to put this book down because I wanted to work out just what was going on, and I cared about the various characters.
October 31, 2009
Every now and then I have a craving to read something that is beautifully crafted, a book that is all lovely words. I heard about Jane Gardam on NPR(I had never heard of her) - she's a British author and she has won the Whitbread Award TWICE. (Nobody else has done that, so this author I had never heard of ought to be good, I thought)>
And she is. The book is all letters written by Eliza to her neighbor Joan, who never responds to the letters. Eliza is witty, intelligent, weirdly insightful about her neighbors - but something is very, very wrong and her neighbors - though often overwhelmed by their own problems - are strangely concerned about Eliza. Because we come to see that Eliza is going crazy, and she has secrets she cannot tell, even to Joan. If Joan exists.
Here's a bit I liked, where Eliza is being examined by a doctor whom she calls The Son of Dreariness - he is asking about her "female problems."
"And how old are you, Mrs. Peabody?"
"I'm fifty-one."
"Ah, fifty-one. Menopause going all right? Everything drying up nicely?"
"I had a hysterectomy at thirty-one. That's the scar."
"Ah, long gone, long gone. Now I do congratulate you. Well done, well done....For getting rid of the good old nursery-furniture, my dear. Best removed when no longer needed."
"What a perfectly horrible thing to say. What a foul phrase."
"What? Ha?"
"I was thirty one." Then I added, "Fuck you."
You tell 'em, Eliza.
And she is. The book is all letters written by Eliza to her neighbor Joan, who never responds to the letters. Eliza is witty, intelligent, weirdly insightful about her neighbors - but something is very, very wrong and her neighbors - though often overwhelmed by their own problems - are strangely concerned about Eliza. Because we come to see that Eliza is going crazy, and she has secrets she cannot tell, even to Joan. If Joan exists.
Here's a bit I liked, where Eliza is being examined by a doctor whom she calls The Son of Dreariness - he is asking about her "female problems."
"And how old are you, Mrs. Peabody?"
"I'm fifty-one."
"Ah, fifty-one. Menopause going all right? Everything drying up nicely?"
"I had a hysterectomy at thirty-one. That's the scar."
"Ah, long gone, long gone. Now I do congratulate you. Well done, well done....For getting rid of the good old nursery-furniture, my dear. Best removed when no longer needed."
"What a perfectly horrible thing to say. What a foul phrase."
"What? Ha?"
"I was thirty one." Then I added, "Fuck you."
You tell 'em, Eliza.
December 6, 2010
A modern epistolary novel...I think that's how you say it. Eliza Peabody, opinionated, rich and confident writes a well meaning if insensitive letter to one of her neighbours and from then on her life with all its clear boundaries and comfortable middle class interests begins to disintegrate. Everything we see, everything we hear is through the eyes and ears of this, initially, maddening woman. Gardam challenges us as the book goes on to try to understand what is reality, what is imagination and what is misunderstanding. A large number of characters traipse past her; some more clearly drawn and believable then others but then perhaps that is the point of the book. Is Eliza seeing clearly ? Is there a conspiracy of silence on the part of her neighbours or a patient attempt at understanding her weird decay. There was some really amusing dialogue reported by Eliza and some lovely gentle opening out of relationships. Some surreal incidents and one heart stopping moment on a lake serve to keep the reader unsettled until the very end of the book where a resolution of a sort leaves you 'satisfied but not surfeited '. I enjoyed it and would have no problem in recommending it
October 25, 2018
A strong 4 stars.
Difficult to describe without saying more than you want to know before you enter this book. Every review I read told me something that felt a bit too much, but it’s hard to avoid with this book. It’s a revelatory tapestry of a story.
If you know Gardam, it’s enough to say she doesn’t disappoint.
A story about a 50 year old woman writing to a woman she barely knew and possibly had a bit of a hand in running out of the neighborhood and country. It isn’t a correspondence, but a one sided story unfolding, always of questionable perspective and veracity.
An unfolding of self-awareness and revelatory personal history with a touch of mystery. An examination of relationship, loneliness, and the dimensions of necessity of other people in our lives.
It is also “about” a number of other subjects and themes. Looking at some other reviews makes me think it’s a Rorschach test of a book, because, Gardam-like, she evokes something particular in every reader.
A superb, mildly disorienting without being off-putting, read that leans well into 5 stars.
Difficult to describe without saying more than you want to know before you enter this book. Every review I read told me something that felt a bit too much, but it’s hard to avoid with this book. It’s a revelatory tapestry of a story.
If you know Gardam, it’s enough to say she doesn’t disappoint.
A story about a 50 year old woman writing to a woman she barely knew and possibly had a bit of a hand in running out of the neighborhood and country. It isn’t a correspondence, but a one sided story unfolding, always of questionable perspective and veracity.
An unfolding of self-awareness and revelatory personal history with a touch of mystery. An examination of relationship, loneliness, and the dimensions of necessity of other people in our lives.
It is also “about” a number of other subjects and themes. Looking at some other reviews makes me think it’s a Rorschach test of a book, because, Gardam-like, she evokes something particular in every reader.
A superb, mildly disorienting without being off-putting, read that leans well into 5 stars.
July 23, 2023
This slim novel is written in epistolary style, as Eliza Peabody writes letters to her former neighbor who is presumably off on some world-wide adventure. As time goes on and Eliza tries to relate what is happening in the neighborhood it becomes clear to the reader that she is not fully connected to reality. At times the work is poignant, other times quite funny, occasionally puzzling, occasionally horrifying and mostly entertaining (if you can consider watching someone descend into madness as entertaining).
I’ve read a number of Gardam’s works and I really appreciate the way she draws her characters. But I felt I didn’t really get to know Eliza, her husband, or any of the other characters that populated this work. It just missed the mark for me as compared to other books by her that I’ve read. I liked it, but didn’t love it.
The novel won Britain’s Whitebread Award for Best Novel of the Year in 1991.
I’ve read a number of Gardam’s works and I really appreciate the way she draws her characters. But I felt I didn’t really get to know Eliza, her husband, or any of the other characters that populated this work. It just missed the mark for me as compared to other books by her that I’ve read. I liked it, but didn’t love it.
The novel won Britain’s Whitebread Award for Best Novel of the Year in 1991.
October 15, 2014
Well Jane Gardam is generally one of my favourite authors and indeed I am just about to invest in her newly published bumper book of short stories, but I really struggled with this one. Great title, given to the novel's heroine (is that what she is) by Barry the patient she bonds with in her role as Hospice volunteer. The rest of the book appears to be a bit of a demented muddle related by a very unreliable narrator indeed: Eliza Peabody late of the British Empire has many of the traits of Gardam's stock characters. Lonely, out of place, bewildered inhabiting a colony in suburban England that is every bit as challenging as any of those colonies she has visited overseas, if indeed she has visited any.
All the elements I admire about Gardam are there, quirky voice, moments of glittering epipthany and poignant weirdness, eccentricity galore but this time for me it doesn't work and I found myself getting more and more irritated as the tale went along, not caring very much about Eliza anyway.
Is this confusion, delirium one might say a prose device of Gardam's to convey post-natal depression, post traumatic stress syndrome or early onset dementia. If so she succeeds mightly as I found myself stumbling around with Eliza from drama to drama uncertain where I was, disorientated, confused and yes friends a little scared.
The novel is written in an epistolic fashion with Eliza apparently writing to Joan a woman who has disappeared from next door. Is this so-called Joan, Eliza's double, did she ever exist I don't know.
The other interesting facet is that this novel is told exclusively from the viewpoint of the unreliable narrator and there is no reliable voice to put a context around incidents or events as they occur. I felt no resolution at the end of the novel and was left with a sense of unease as the author had some how let me down. It would be really good to know what others think. I am sure I must be missing something as this novel was short-listed for the Booker Prize.
All the elements I admire about Gardam are there, quirky voice, moments of glittering epipthany and poignant weirdness, eccentricity galore but this time for me it doesn't work and I found myself getting more and more irritated as the tale went along, not caring very much about Eliza anyway.
Is this confusion, delirium one might say a prose device of Gardam's to convey post-natal depression, post traumatic stress syndrome or early onset dementia. If so she succeeds mightly as I found myself stumbling around with Eliza from drama to drama uncertain where I was, disorientated, confused and yes friends a little scared.
The novel is written in an epistolic fashion with Eliza apparently writing to Joan a woman who has disappeared from next door. Is this so-called Joan, Eliza's double, did she ever exist I don't know.
The other interesting facet is that this novel is told exclusively from the viewpoint of the unreliable narrator and there is no reliable voice to put a context around incidents or events as they occur. I felt no resolution at the end of the novel and was left with a sense of unease as the author had some how let me down. It would be really good to know what others think. I am sure I must be missing something as this novel was short-listed for the Booker Prize.
December 6, 2022
This funny, poignant roller-coaster of a story by Jane Gardam is a terrific read.by a versatile writer. Unlike the emotional restraint of the eponymous character in Old Filth, our heroine in The Queen of the Tambourine seems to have no emotional filters at all.
The book starts out breathtakingly manic as Eliza writes a highly familiar and opinionated letter to her neighbor, Joan, who, it turns out, she doesn't really know at all. The novel progresses, letter by letter, as Eliza gradually writes less advice about her neighbor's life and more about her own circumstances. The writing is exquisitely humorous in the dry, British sort of way. Here, for example, she describes golfers "in their yellow jerseys, like wandering bananas." And here she says, "He is, I know, not somebody who shows his feelings easily. Or even at all."
Eliza is a complicated character and reality becomes increasingly unclear as the novel progresses. I thought the ending felt rushed and unsatisfying. There is also a highly disturbing incident with a baby infant, which Gardam writes of in a disconcertingly matter-of-fact way. 3/1/2 stars.
The book starts out breathtakingly manic as Eliza writes a highly familiar and opinionated letter to her neighbor, Joan, who, it turns out, she doesn't really know at all. The novel progresses, letter by letter, as Eliza gradually writes less advice about her neighbor's life and more about her own circumstances. The writing is exquisitely humorous in the dry, British sort of way. Here, for example, she describes golfers "in their yellow jerseys, like wandering bananas." And here she says, "He is, I know, not somebody who shows his feelings easily. Or even at all."
Eliza is a complicated character and reality becomes increasingly unclear as the novel progresses. I thought the ending felt rushed and unsatisfying. There is also a highly disturbing incident with a baby infant, which Gardam writes of in a disconcertingly matter-of-fact way. 3/1/2 stars.
February 12, 2015
A beautiful, beautiful story. The beginning is just hilarious, the notes written by a nosy bossy neighbor. A well to do and underemployed intelligent woman. I've known dozens. And Jane Gardam draws them with particular zest and skill. Eliza Peabody cites often that her views are obviously wise and well-informed by "my work with the Dying". I howled. And just when I was beginning to wonder how the author can possibly keep it up, a curtain starts to lift and well, it is really hard to write about this book without revealing too much. I loved every bit of it. So. much.
October 2, 2025
Der Anfang war sehr vielversprechend, aber dann wurde doch zunehmend konfuser und irgendwann hat es mich dann verloren. Enttäuschend.
October 2, 2019
God, wat is Jane Gardam toch een begenadigd schrijver. Het verhaal van Eliza Peabody begint zo geloofwaardig. Haar overbuurvrouw, aan de rustige, deftige Rathbone Road waar ze wonen, is hem gesmeerd naar Verweggistan en Eliza begrijpt haar wel. Ze begint brieven te schrijven aan Joan, al weet ze niet precies waar die uithangt. Over haar tot op de draad versleten huwelijk, over haar zinledige bestaan van ex-diplomatenvrouw die nog enige zingeving ontleent aan haar werk in het hospice, over de roddelkliek van dorpsbewoners. Ze hoort nooit iets terug van Joan, maar een paar keer krijgt ze via een raadselachtig manspersoon cadeautjes aangereikt die van Joan komen. Onder andere een paar zigeunerachtige oorbellen, waarmee ze volgens Barry, haar meest geliefde hospice-patient, net the Queen of the Tambourine lijkt.
Heel geleidelijk veranderen de brieven van toon, dat je af en toe denkt … hoe kan dat? Is zij wel helemaal goed in haar hoofd? Langzaam krijg je door hoe de vork in de steel zit. Maar pas op het allerlaatst hoe precies. Daar schoten mij de tranen van in de ogen. Terwijl het verder zo'n bedrieglijk lichtvoetig en geestig boek is, met ook zoveel herkenbaars voor een ex-expatvrouw. En met zoveel juweeltjes van zinnen en observaties. "The hot spicy blast that hits you as you step from the plane." Wat kan een mens dan een Fernweh hebben.
Heel geleidelijk veranderen de brieven van toon, dat je af en toe denkt … hoe kan dat? Is zij wel helemaal goed in haar hoofd? Langzaam krijg je door hoe de vork in de steel zit. Maar pas op het allerlaatst hoe precies. Daar schoten mij de tranen van in de ogen. Terwijl het verder zo'n bedrieglijk lichtvoetig en geestig boek is, met ook zoveel herkenbaars voor een ex-expatvrouw. En met zoveel juweeltjes van zinnen en observaties. "The hot spicy blast that hits you as you step from the plane." Wat kan een mens dan een Fernweh hebben.
December 27, 2008
I stayed with this for about 80 pages. I wanted to like it more -- it's an epistolary novel; it's funny; and it came recommended by one of my favorite reader/friends (Ted), who turned me on to Mrs. Caliban and other good books where the line between reality and otherworldness is blurred.
So... how did the book fall out of my favor? Well, number one, it's a one-sided epistolary novel: the protagonist narrator, a woman slowly losing her mind, writes all the letters to her former next-door neighbor, a supposed friend who may never have been her friend at all, and there is no return correspondence. Moreover, I realized that I prefer an unreliable narrator who has a foothold in sanity, and not an unreliable narrator who is mentally ill. Perhaps, too, an unreliable, unstable narrator works in a prose novel like Lolita (or Mrs. Caliban), and less so in letter form, because in straight prose, there seem to be more layers of narration (including subtle appearances by the author him/herself) and less so in the letters, which narrowly emanate from one voice.
So... how did the book fall out of my favor? Well, number one, it's a one-sided epistolary novel: the protagonist narrator, a woman slowly losing her mind, writes all the letters to her former next-door neighbor, a supposed friend who may never have been her friend at all, and there is no return correspondence. Moreover, I realized that I prefer an unreliable narrator who has a foothold in sanity, and not an unreliable narrator who is mentally ill. Perhaps, too, an unreliable, unstable narrator works in a prose novel like Lolita (or Mrs. Caliban), and less so in letter form, because in straight prose, there seem to be more layers of narration (including subtle appearances by the author him/herself) and less so in the letters, which narrowly emanate from one voice.
January 3, 2008
Don't be put off by the boring synopsis: Well-to-do, middle-aged woman, slowly goes insane, alone, in her large sprawling estate. This is not an exciting book. It does, however, strike that perfect balance of bleakness and laugh-out-loud comedy that only British writers can so artfully execute. An absolutely delightful read.
And come on, "Queen of the Tamborine": How brilliant is this title?!?
And come on, "Queen of the Tamborine": How brilliant is this title?!?
June 3, 2019
Exquisite, layered, deep, funny-bordering-on-farce with a tragic heart. Something a bit retro about it - a bit Pymish; a bit Sparkish with that under-the-surface seething British comedy of manners that invariably both masks and reveals the brutality and consequence of the constraints imposed by class and gender. Gorgeously written, with a dream-like quality that perfectly echoes its themes; beautifully paced.
August 21, 2020
“Eliza, whatever's this?”
“It's a picture I brought for you to value.”
“No. This. You. The dangles. The Queen of the Tambourine.”
“They're a Christmas present.”
“They look more than that to me.”
“Why? Aren't they nice? I like them . . .” I wagged my head and the bells began to ring. “They're imprudent, tawdry, foolish and out of character. Fun. Fun is hazy territory.”
December 28, 2020
Well, I tried. I was, and still — to some extent — remain a big fan of Jane Gardam. Really loved her book The Old Filth. But this one is just plain weird. Well-written, yes, but impossible for me to get involved in the story, perhaps because there were no characters I could like, identify with, or get interested in. It’s just one bizarre thing after another happening. I got about 1/3 of the way through before giving up. Maybe I’ll go back and re-read Filth to re-set my perspective on her.
January 29, 2021
I do love Jane Gardam.
June 18, 2013
The Brits loved this book, giving Gardam lots of honors for it. It's a perceptive look at wealthy women past middle age who struggle to find meaning in their lives.
The narrator is Eliza Peabody, who, in her 50s has found she has nothing to do, and this lack of purpose has thrown her back to the tragedy of miscarrying a child nearly 25 years earlier and has left her a bit mad. Making matters worse, her husband has left her in apparent frustration.
Her neighbors watch her go through this and all have opinions about what she needs to do to get right. One neighbor, an English teacher, says of the posh street they all live on: "If we had nothing to do, no work, life in this Road would be quite unjustifiable. I mean, what about all our degrees and qualifications? I know that they were some time ago but--it would be living death. My work utterly exhausts me, I'm glad to say. I don't have to do it. We're perfectly comfortably off. But it makes the Road have meaning. After all, nothing happens here--nothing. Nothing goes on except the tiny events of every day, and you're not old enough for that yet" (210).
But Eliza resists: "I had a job. For thirty years I had Henry. I saw him through. He was hopeless when we married--so diffident, afraid of trying, and he was no good at languages. When we married it was made quite clear to me that Henry's job in the Foreign Service was shared between us. Diplomatic wives were not allowed any other work then. It's different now. Then it was full-time social punishment and doing the intellectual and diplomatic polite. We were Oxbridge-trained geisha girls and I was a very good one. And I was worth something better" (225). The crazy woman spills cutting insights in the midst of her hallucinations.
More than this, Eliza's final realization is in direct contradiction to her purposefully busy neighbor: "Dulcie is wrong--it is sufficient just 'to be'" (258). This pronouncement is made once Eliza the protagonist has become sane again, so I think it's safe to say it's Gardam's thesis.
My problem with the novel is that after beginning so well, and despite all the well-written insight, I was left with an unreliable narrator. And this prejudices me greatly against this novel. It took a while to understand that Eliza was crazy. For example, the entire novel is a bunch of letters written to a woman she's invented. This device kept me from really liking the novel.
Still, some of Gardam's descriptions are hard not to love. Describing Eliza, another (invented) character tells her that she's "crumbled" and that her "prudence did not develop" (57). And to show disapproval, Lady Gant "made a noise like a demented horse" (119). That one sent me snorting uncontrollably on a train to Baltimore--most embarrassing.
So overall, not my favorite Gardam, but still well-written and smart.
The narrator is Eliza Peabody, who, in her 50s has found she has nothing to do, and this lack of purpose has thrown her back to the tragedy of miscarrying a child nearly 25 years earlier and has left her a bit mad. Making matters worse, her husband has left her in apparent frustration.
Her neighbors watch her go through this and all have opinions about what she needs to do to get right. One neighbor, an English teacher, says of the posh street they all live on: "If we had nothing to do, no work, life in this Road would be quite unjustifiable. I mean, what about all our degrees and qualifications? I know that they were some time ago but--it would be living death. My work utterly exhausts me, I'm glad to say. I don't have to do it. We're perfectly comfortably off. But it makes the Road have meaning. After all, nothing happens here--nothing. Nothing goes on except the tiny events of every day, and you're not old enough for that yet" (210).
But Eliza resists: "I had a job. For thirty years I had Henry. I saw him through. He was hopeless when we married--so diffident, afraid of trying, and he was no good at languages. When we married it was made quite clear to me that Henry's job in the Foreign Service was shared between us. Diplomatic wives were not allowed any other work then. It's different now. Then it was full-time social punishment and doing the intellectual and diplomatic polite. We were Oxbridge-trained geisha girls and I was a very good one. And I was worth something better" (225). The crazy woman spills cutting insights in the midst of her hallucinations.
More than this, Eliza's final realization is in direct contradiction to her purposefully busy neighbor: "Dulcie is wrong--it is sufficient just 'to be'" (258). This pronouncement is made once Eliza the protagonist has become sane again, so I think it's safe to say it's Gardam's thesis.
My problem with the novel is that after beginning so well, and despite all the well-written insight, I was left with an unreliable narrator. And this prejudices me greatly against this novel. It took a while to understand that Eliza was crazy. For example, the entire novel is a bunch of letters written to a woman she's invented. This device kept me from really liking the novel.
Still, some of Gardam's descriptions are hard not to love. Describing Eliza, another (invented) character tells her that she's "crumbled" and that her "prudence did not develop" (57). And to show disapproval, Lady Gant "made a noise like a demented horse" (119). That one sent me snorting uncontrollably on a train to Baltimore--most embarrassing.
So overall, not my favorite Gardam, but still well-written and smart.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 27, 2019
Spoiler alert.
Two and a half stars. I found much of this book engrossing, and enjoyed the challenge of trying to figure out what was real and what wasn't. However, the characters and story line fell flat for me. Everyone, with the exception of the neighbor's baby, felt like a caricature to me, and the story felt like an discordant cross between a farce and the private recording of woman's mental breakdown.
Speaking of the neighbor's baby - I found it unbelievable that the neighbor, even in an emergency, would have left his infant son with the woman whom the whole neighborhood knew as delusional, unstable and depressed. And I could not forgive Eliza for stuffing the baby with cake and eclairs and purposely almost drowning him, then acting as if none of that really mattered because she thinks that after talking to her husband, "I am righted now." If she was able to realize what she was doing and distinguish between truth and reality, she was not psychotic, and if she was not psychotic, she was in control of her actions and needs to take responsibility for her actions and herself. She can't have it both ways.
The precocious, charming and lovable Fish children were my favorite characters, perhaps partly because they did not have the affectations of the adults, but I still found them a little over the top as far as plausibility. I could believe that the frequently parent-less children of a child psychologist and a priest would be bright, surprisingly articulate, and even know how to take care of themselves and their baby brother, but an eight-year-old saying things like, "And if you don't mind, I actually ought to be going to bed now" strained the bounds of credibility for me. Then again, I've never lived among upper crust British people, so maybe my expectations are inaccurate.
The method used near the end of the book to detail which story lines Eliza made up felt forced to me. If the relationship between Barry and Eliza had been more developed, and if she had written her letters to Barry instead of 'Joan,' it might have made a bit more sense. Personally, I would have much preferred that the story and background information allowed the reader to slowly determine what really happened and what did not.
Obviously I am in the minority, as many readers and critics loved this book. To each his or her own.
Two and a half stars. I found much of this book engrossing, and enjoyed the challenge of trying to figure out what was real and what wasn't. However, the characters and story line fell flat for me. Everyone, with the exception of the neighbor's baby, felt like a caricature to me, and the story felt like an discordant cross between a farce and the private recording of woman's mental breakdown.
Speaking of the neighbor's baby - I found it unbelievable that the neighbor, even in an emergency, would have left his infant son with the woman whom the whole neighborhood knew as delusional, unstable and depressed. And I could not forgive Eliza for stuffing the baby with cake and eclairs and purposely almost drowning him, then acting as if none of that really mattered because she thinks that after talking to her husband, "I am righted now." If she was able to realize what she was doing and distinguish between truth and reality, she was not psychotic, and if she was not psychotic, she was in control of her actions and needs to take responsibility for her actions and herself. She can't have it both ways.
The precocious, charming and lovable Fish children were my favorite characters, perhaps partly because they did not have the affectations of the adults, but I still found them a little over the top as far as plausibility. I could believe that the frequently parent-less children of a child psychologist and a priest would be bright, surprisingly articulate, and even know how to take care of themselves and their baby brother, but an eight-year-old saying things like, "And if you don't mind, I actually ought to be going to bed now" strained the bounds of credibility for me. Then again, I've never lived among upper crust British people, so maybe my expectations are inaccurate.
The method used near the end of the book to detail which story lines Eliza made up felt forced to me. If the relationship between Barry and Eliza had been more developed, and if she had written her letters to Barry instead of 'Joan,' it might have made a bit more sense. Personally, I would have much preferred that the story and background information allowed the reader to slowly determine what really happened and what did not.
Obviously I am in the minority, as many readers and critics loved this book. To each his or her own.
July 28, 2012
What an amazing book.
I do not know where to begin.
I loved it all.
Midway through the book, I realized that not only was this the story of Eliza Peabody, but also a vehicle for some little vignettes or short stories of people surrounding Eliza, real or imagined.
When I realized this, I thought to myself, "not fair, not fair. I just want to read about Eliza and never mind these other people and their stories." Yet I was drawn in, could not tear myself away from these stories, and wanted to know their outcomes.
So, I learned to just go with the flow. Other novels come to mind, such as "Let the Great World Spin," or "The Known World," where there is a linear storyline, yet chock-full of little tales and different characters. I loved them both.
I fell in love with Eliza and her story. Some might criticize the ending, like it was too pat or easy tie-ups. Oh, let them think that. I just loved it all, especially the very last "chapter".
Some of the humor in this book is the best I have ever read. Laughed out loud numerous times.
Thank you, thank you, Jane Gardam, for giving me so much pleasure and some kind of appreciation of life in general. Hard to put into words.
I do not know where to begin.
I loved it all.
Midway through the book, I realized that not only was this the story of Eliza Peabody, but also a vehicle for some little vignettes or short stories of people surrounding Eliza, real or imagined.
When I realized this, I thought to myself, "not fair, not fair. I just want to read about Eliza and never mind these other people and their stories." Yet I was drawn in, could not tear myself away from these stories, and wanted to know their outcomes.
So, I learned to just go with the flow. Other novels come to mind, such as "Let the Great World Spin," or "The Known World," where there is a linear storyline, yet chock-full of little tales and different characters. I loved them both.
I fell in love with Eliza and her story. Some might criticize the ending, like it was too pat or easy tie-ups. Oh, let them think that. I just loved it all, especially the very last "chapter".
Some of the humor in this book is the best I have ever read. Laughed out loud numerous times.
Thank you, thank you, Jane Gardam, for giving me so much pleasure and some kind of appreciation of life in general. Hard to put into words.
September 21, 2021
Jane Gardam is a master and should be far better known this side of the Atlantic. Why isn't she? Is she too wry? Or are the terrible Goodreads blurbs turning off prospective readers? (The blurb for Queen of the Tambourine is an insult to Gardam and her complex novel. Don't let it deter you.)
Gardam's wit and humor light up every page; let's call this insight, and the insight is expansive, for all the while, Gardam continues to dig deeper - into our human foibles and into the psychology and effects of social class - without ever skewering individuals. She spun an incredible web with this novel and I marvel at how it did not fall apart. The center held.
Here's something I never do, but I'm going to quote a paragraph from another reviewer's (Alicia's) excellent review:
"Gardam may be best enjoyed by people who are no longer young. Her insights are continuous but tempered. She has enormous sympathy for the wounds that life inflicts but without an ounce of unbecoming sweetness. Gardam remains clear eyed, observant and sane. She has a perspective that only time allows."
Gardam's wit and humor light up every page; let's call this insight, and the insight is expansive, for all the while, Gardam continues to dig deeper - into our human foibles and into the psychology and effects of social class - without ever skewering individuals. She spun an incredible web with this novel and I marvel at how it did not fall apart. The center held.
Here's something I never do, but I'm going to quote a paragraph from another reviewer's (Alicia's) excellent review:
"Gardam may be best enjoyed by people who are no longer young. Her insights are continuous but tempered. She has enormous sympathy for the wounds that life inflicts but without an ounce of unbecoming sweetness. Gardam remains clear eyed, observant and sane. She has a perspective that only time allows."
November 20, 2016
I'm a big time Gardam fan, but this one escaped me completely. I couldn't keep the neighbors straight because they came and went so much, and finally, I don't know what was real and what was the product of a fevered imagination. I'm guessing that the breakdown was caused by grief and post-partum depression.
I thought the most touching part of the book was Eliza and Bernard's relationship. There was clearly a connection there that she was missing from most of her other acquaintances, although she and Henry seemed to be reestablishing their relationship at the end.
The problem, though, is not being sure what exactly happened and why it stopped. Sounds like spontaneous remission, which is most unlikely. All in all, not successful, in my "book." Still, it is Jane Gardam (which was why I kept reading when I became lost). Next time.
I thought the most touching part of the book was Eliza and Bernard's relationship. There was clearly a connection there that she was missing from most of her other acquaintances, although she and Henry seemed to be reestablishing their relationship at the end.
The problem, though, is not being sure what exactly happened and why it stopped. Sounds like spontaneous remission, which is most unlikely. All in all, not successful, in my "book." Still, it is Jane Gardam (which was why I kept reading when I became lost). Next time.
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