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Signs for Lost Children
In Victorian Cornwall, a doctor risks her marriage to fight for female asylum “One of the most memorable heroines of recent fiction ” (The Times, London). Shortlisted for the Wellcome Book Prize for Historical Fiction Ally Moberley, a recently qualified doctor, never expected to marry until she met architect Tom Cavendish. But only weeks into their marriage, Tom sets out for Japan, leaving Ally as she begins work at the Truro Asylum in Cornwall. Horrified by the brutal attitudes of male doctors and nurses toward their female patients, Ally plunges into the institutional politics of women’s mental health at a time when madness is only just being imagined as treatable. She has to contend with a longstanding tradition of permanently institutionalizing women who are deemed difficult, all the while fighting to be taken seriously in a profession dominated by men. Meanwhile, Tom is overseeing the building of lighthouses, and has a commission from a wealthy collector to bring back embroideries and woodwork. As he travels Japan in search of these enchanting objects, he begins to question the value of the life he left in England. As Ally becomes increasingly absorbed in the moral importance of her work, and Tom pursues his interests on the other side of the world, they will return to each other as different people. From the blustery coast of Western England to the landscape of Japan, Signs for Lost Children offers a “fine exploration of marriage and the complex minds of ‘lost children’—that is, all of us” (The New York Times Book Review). “Compelling . . . A quietly devastating portrait of the way identity crumbles when you’ve nothing, or no one, to pin it to.” —The Guardian
425 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 10, 2015
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3308 people want to read
About the author
Sarah Moss
37 books1,892 followersSarah Moss is the award-winning author of six novels: Cold Earth, Night Waking, selected for the Fiction Uncovered Award in 2011, Bodies of Light, Signs for Lost Children and The Tidal Zone, all shortlisted for the prestigious Wellcome Prize, and her new book Ghost Wall, out in September 2018.
She has also written a memoir of her year living in Iceland, Names for the Sea, which was shortlisted for the RSL Ondaatje Prize in 2013.
Sarah Moss is Professor of Creative Writing at the University of Warwick in England.
She has also written a memoir of her year living in Iceland, Names for the Sea, which was shortlisted for the RSL Ondaatje Prize in 2013.
Sarah Moss is Professor of Creative Writing at the University of Warwick in England.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 181 reviews
July 30, 2017
Simply superb in the way it juxtaposes England and Japan in the 1880s and comments on mental illness, the place of women, and the difficulty of navigating a marriage whether the partners are thousands of miles apart or in the same room (“a part of the art of marriage must be to learn to see solitude in its double form”; “homes must be made, not given”). The settings are flawlessly rendered, including Cornwall, Manchester, London in Ally’s chapters; Osaka, Kyoto and an ocean liner in Tom’s. More so than in the other three of her novels I’ve read, each sentence is as carefully wrought as one of the netsuke Tom purchases on behalf of an English collector.
I’d hardly noticed it in the prequel (Bodies of Light), but here I was able to admire how the use of the present tense brings the action close, so that this doesn’t feel like historical fiction but like ever-present fiction: perfectly true in its observations on the human psyche. I also loved the metaphorical use of foxes and the lovely ending that comes full circle; it’s a perfect way to say goodbye to these characters I’d come to love over two volumes. Ally is, I expect, an ISTJ like me (or maybe an ISFJ), and I could sympathize with a lot of her feelings if not her experiences.
[This is the third Moss novel I’ve read this year; just one more (Cold Earth) and I will have read her whole output. Then I’ll have to wait for her to finish something new – argh!]
A favorite descriptive passage:
“They are leaving Osaka and there is snow on the ground, at first only a sifting, stones dark through grains of ice, and then more, a covering moulding itself to the shape of the land as a sheet rests over a body. Each tree bears its own ghost in snow, and the blades of Japanese flora, of bamboo and reeds, etch themselves black and vertical.”
I’d hardly noticed it in the prequel (Bodies of Light), but here I was able to admire how the use of the present tense brings the action close, so that this doesn’t feel like historical fiction but like ever-present fiction: perfectly true in its observations on the human psyche. I also loved the metaphorical use of foxes and the lovely ending that comes full circle; it’s a perfect way to say goodbye to these characters I’d come to love over two volumes. Ally is, I expect, an ISTJ like me (or maybe an ISFJ), and I could sympathize with a lot of her feelings if not her experiences.
[This is the third Moss novel I’ve read this year; just one more (Cold Earth) and I will have read her whole output. Then I’ll have to wait for her to finish something new – argh!]
A favorite descriptive passage:
“They are leaving Osaka and there is snow on the ground, at first only a sifting, stones dark through grains of ice, and then more, a covering moulding itself to the shape of the land as a sheet rests over a body. Each tree bears its own ghost in snow, and the blades of Japanese flora, of bamboo and reeds, etch themselves black and vertical.”
February 15, 2022
My 6th Moss book in a row, and I still haven't tired of her. The story begun in Night Waking, and continued in Bodies of Light, comes to a satisfying conclusion in this tome... 1,104 pages all together for the trilogy! In actuality, part 1, roughly the first 15%, is the final 50 pages of the previous book, with a couple of minor new interpolations... but necessary to set-up the story of the courtship of Ally and Tom, and their subsequent estrangement when he takes off to Japan, and she remains in Cornwall to begin work at a rehabilitation house for former asylum patients.
I had a few quibbles - a couple of anachronisms stuck out (busses in 1880?), and the ending - although satisfying, felt rushed and a bit unearned. But Moss's prose is as sparkling as ever, a real pleasure to read, and in Ally, she has created a unique, complex, if occasionally frustrating character.
Onwards to Cold Earth
I had a few quibbles - a couple of anachronisms stuck out (busses in 1880?), and the ending - although satisfying, felt rushed and a bit unearned. But Moss's prose is as sparkling as ever, a real pleasure to read, and in Ally, she has created a unique, complex, if occasionally frustrating character.
Onwards to Cold Earth
October 10, 2021
There is not, Ally thinks, a great deal of difference between Sisyphus’ curse and Penelope’s salvation, only that what is torture for a man is meant to be fulfilment for a woman.
This novel haunted me for two years since I first read it. I don't know why, I didn't even think I loved it that much back then. It will haunt me still.
This is a quiet melancholic story about loneliness, exorcising inner demons, finding your place in this world, fighting for independence and nurturing beautiful healthy human connections. And in Ally we have a very strong, sometimes incredibly weak, but very complex portrait of the young woman in the late victorian era, first-generation feminist, first-generation female doctor of medicine (right after Edinburgh Seven) and deeply troubled soul because of the relationship with her cold domineering mother and the death of her sister.
And in alternating chapters we get the story of Tom, her new husband, whom she got to know just for a few weeks, before he goes on the business trip to Japan that turns out to be quite an existential journey for him.
Is it perfect? No, the pacing sometimes didn't work, and even though Tom's observation and travels in 1880s Japan were fascinating, I always yearned to go back to Ally's chapters. Still, I can appreciate what Moss did here and how she tied both stories with a theme of being an outsider:
Many men, even if they travel, never live like this even for half an hour of their lives. But if it was like that for you, if you were watchful and hesitant from first waking until sleep, then you know how it is to be a woman and especially to be a woman entering a profession. We are always strangers in a strange land.
But the level of psychological complexity of the novel is very impressive.
This is the least popular Sarah Moss' novel and it's definitely my favorite.
March 17, 2017
Moss is fantastic, and this was the penultimate novel of hers which was outstanding for me. This is the sequel to Bodies of Light - which, I'll be honest, I don't think really needed a sequel. I did like the use of two separate stories here, which were connected through the sole fact of both protagonists being married. In Signs for Lost Children, Moss presents a fascinating look into Victorian-era asylum practices, and, unsurprisingly, it is incredibly well written and researched. A good continuation to the original story was provided, and the story here is rich and multi-layered.
April 30, 2020
I gave “Bodies of Light” a 2.5 star review. I had expressed disappointment at the book because I had liked two other books I had read by the author, Names of the Sea (memoir) and Tidal Zone (novel). Bodies of Light was, I thought, a historical novel but Sarah Moss on her webpage said it isn’t. Why am I perseverating about "Bodies of Light"? This review is on another book by the same author. Give her a break! A fresh start? No! I start reading it and it’s like déjà vu all over again. I’m thinking to myself “Wait, this is the last ¼ of the book Bodies of Light…the first 80 pages of this damn book (Part One – London, Summer 1878) is perhaps word for word the end of Bodies of Light. I have no idea why this is, and in all my life I have never come across this style (the beginning of a book having a substantive part of the end of another book by the same author). It must be for people who have not read Bodies of Light to get a sufficient enough Intro as to what happened to Alathea in medical school and when she met her husband, Thomas Cavendish, an engineer who fixes lighthouses? Perhaps after I write this and go to reviews and to other reader’s comments I will be enlightened.
OK, let me castigate this book now I have gotten that off my chest. 😊
I could not stand the character of Alathea’s mother, Elizabeth, who was a brutal mother and really ‘messed up’ (I was going to use more explicit language) Alathea in her childhood, adolescent years, early adult years. I was glad to be rid of thinking about Elizabeth when I finished that book, but she returns in this book!!! Dante has nine circles of hell and at the end of Bodies of Light I would place Elizabeth around the second circle…she moves down several notches to a more sinister and evil circle in this book.
The book is written in short chapters with alternating chapters about Alathea and her career as a doctor in England, and Thomas who is in Japan for an engineering gig and then another separate job - to get Japanese works of art and furniture from earlier centuries (involving samurais) for a collector of such art in London. I guess he extended his stay in Japan to do that because he would get enough money for this collection job to enable him and Alathea to live in a nice house once he got back to England. Trouble is, he was only married to Alathea for a very short period of time (I think 6 weeks) before he took off for Japan. And he is gone for 6 months, so that creates problems.
OK, so far you know I dislike the book because Elizabeth, Alathea’s mother, is back in her life. She screwed up Alathea really good when she raised her and when Alathea is physically away from her practicing medicine in an insane asylum for women she is still in Alathea’s head, messing with it. Then Alathea is drawn back to her mother like a moth to a flame, where she is living under the same roof as her mother, so the mother can screw up her head even more. Alathea is now working in a hospital for poor women, where Elizabeth is on the board of directors.
The alternating between characters could have been interesting, but I had no interest at all in what Thomas Cavendish was doing in Japan. I guess the reader was supposed to learn something about Japan in the late 1800s. I don’t know. It didn’t work much for me. For one thing, I actually cared about Alathea because I knew her from the previous novel, Bodies of Light. Cavendish entered into that novel late so I had less of an attachment to him, and Sarah Moss didn’t do much in the novel to make me care about him this time around.
1.5 stars. I will not give up on Sarah Moss given my first two reads from her and given a GR friend told me her latest novel is very good (Ghost Wall), so I have ordered that.
I am usually not so damn negative in book reviews, and I guess I just needed to vent. And gentle reader: Sarah Moss was shortlisted for the Wellcome Prize and longlisted for the Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction for this book, and accolades abound on the front and back cover (The Times Literary Supplement, The Financial Times, The Independent, The Guardian). So you may read it and come away with a totally different take on it.
OK, so just a few quotes from the book:
• p. 233, “Before she knows what she is doing she finds herself at the stove, her sleeves rolled back as Mamma once rolled it for her. She lifts one of the lids. She extends her arm. She watches the skin turn red and then white. There is a faint odour of roast meat. There is not enough pain. She wants the end now. She is too old for this.”
• p. 247, On Christmas Day, Alathea makes a special pudding for Mammy and Papa (JimZ: and mind you this is while Alathea is a doctor and Mammy has her slaving away in the kitchen). Elizabeth to Alathea: “I did not think I brought you up to be always thinking of your stomach in this way…Such sugary trash as only infantile or vitiated appetites could stomach, to rot the teeth and ruin the digestion for more wholesome fare.”
• p. 342, Thomas thinking about his wife as he is wrapping up business in Japan: “He remembers Ally talking about medicine and poverty, about the injustices of women’s lives. He remembers her cooking in the kitchen. He does not quite remember why they are married.”
And reviews: from Min Jin Lee, author of Pachinko: https://www.nytimes.com/2017/04/21/bo...
https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...
OK, let me castigate this book now I have gotten that off my chest. 😊
I could not stand the character of Alathea’s mother, Elizabeth, who was a brutal mother and really ‘messed up’ (I was going to use more explicit language) Alathea in her childhood, adolescent years, early adult years. I was glad to be rid of thinking about Elizabeth when I finished that book, but she returns in this book!!! Dante has nine circles of hell and at the end of Bodies of Light I would place Elizabeth around the second circle…she moves down several notches to a more sinister and evil circle in this book.
The book is written in short chapters with alternating chapters about Alathea and her career as a doctor in England, and Thomas who is in Japan for an engineering gig and then another separate job - to get Japanese works of art and furniture from earlier centuries (involving samurais) for a collector of such art in London. I guess he extended his stay in Japan to do that because he would get enough money for this collection job to enable him and Alathea to live in a nice house once he got back to England. Trouble is, he was only married to Alathea for a very short period of time (I think 6 weeks) before he took off for Japan. And he is gone for 6 months, so that creates problems.
OK, so far you know I dislike the book because Elizabeth, Alathea’s mother, is back in her life. She screwed up Alathea really good when she raised her and when Alathea is physically away from her practicing medicine in an insane asylum for women she is still in Alathea’s head, messing with it. Then Alathea is drawn back to her mother like a moth to a flame, where she is living under the same roof as her mother, so the mother can screw up her head even more. Alathea is now working in a hospital for poor women, where Elizabeth is on the board of directors.
The alternating between characters could have been interesting, but I had no interest at all in what Thomas Cavendish was doing in Japan. I guess the reader was supposed to learn something about Japan in the late 1800s. I don’t know. It didn’t work much for me. For one thing, I actually cared about Alathea because I knew her from the previous novel, Bodies of Light. Cavendish entered into that novel late so I had less of an attachment to him, and Sarah Moss didn’t do much in the novel to make me care about him this time around.
1.5 stars. I will not give up on Sarah Moss given my first two reads from her and given a GR friend told me her latest novel is very good (Ghost Wall), so I have ordered that.
I am usually not so damn negative in book reviews, and I guess I just needed to vent. And gentle reader: Sarah Moss was shortlisted for the Wellcome Prize and longlisted for the Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction for this book, and accolades abound on the front and back cover (The Times Literary Supplement, The Financial Times, The Independent, The Guardian). So you may read it and come away with a totally different take on it.
OK, so just a few quotes from the book:
• p. 233, “Before she knows what she is doing she finds herself at the stove, her sleeves rolled back as Mamma once rolled it for her. She lifts one of the lids. She extends her arm. She watches the skin turn red and then white. There is a faint odour of roast meat. There is not enough pain. She wants the end now. She is too old for this.”
• p. 247, On Christmas Day, Alathea makes a special pudding for Mammy and Papa (JimZ: and mind you this is while Alathea is a doctor and Mammy has her slaving away in the kitchen). Elizabeth to Alathea: “I did not think I brought you up to be always thinking of your stomach in this way…Such sugary trash as only infantile or vitiated appetites could stomach, to rot the teeth and ruin the digestion for more wholesome fare.”
• p. 342, Thomas thinking about his wife as he is wrapping up business in Japan: “He remembers Ally talking about medicine and poverty, about the injustices of women’s lives. He remembers her cooking in the kitchen. He does not quite remember why they are married.”
And reviews: from Min Jin Lee, author of Pachinko: https://www.nytimes.com/2017/04/21/bo...
https://www.theguardian.com/books/201...
February 21, 2022
I have enjoyed the previous Moss books I've read and admire her keen observations of our physical world and deep exploration of our inner worlds. Her prose is masterful most of the time.
That said, this story only half-grabbed me. Told from two perspectives--Ally, the doubting doctor struggling with who she is and how to live in a world that baffles her, and Tom, the husband on a mission in another land, who sidetracks himself in multiple ways--I found myself drawn to one of those perspectives and bored with the other. This may be my own fault for choosing to read the third book in a trilogy without benefit of the history.
Questions about sanity/insanity, possession, environmental dysfunction, superstition...those things zip right to my core. I can stay with those themes all day and night. And in Moss's hands, I was given plenty to ponder in this read. Ally's struggle with the leftovers of parental voices in her head and psyche...well, that is a hook I'll willingly swallow. Those rate four stars. I was less interested in following Tom on his own personal quests. And...the degree of details in the story started to choke me; details that didn't seem to lead anywhere important or move the story along. Maybe it's just me...
An uneven read but one I'm not sorry to have tried. I'm still a Moss fan, just less a fan of this particular story.
That said, this story only half-grabbed me. Told from two perspectives--Ally, the doubting doctor struggling with who she is and how to live in a world that baffles her, and Tom, the husband on a mission in another land, who sidetracks himself in multiple ways--I found myself drawn to one of those perspectives and bored with the other. This may be my own fault for choosing to read the third book in a trilogy without benefit of the history.
Questions about sanity/insanity, possession, environmental dysfunction, superstition...those things zip right to my core. I can stay with those themes all day and night. And in Moss's hands, I was given plenty to ponder in this read. Ally's struggle with the leftovers of parental voices in her head and psyche...well, that is a hook I'll willingly swallow. Those rate four stars. I was less interested in following Tom on his own personal quests. And...the degree of details in the story started to choke me; details that didn't seem to lead anywhere important or move the story along. Maybe it's just me...
An uneven read but one I'm not sorry to have tried. I'm still a Moss fan, just less a fan of this particular story.
April 6, 2020
I wish Moss had focused only on the women, especially Alethea’s work at the asylum and dealing with her own mental health. I couldn’t care less for the sections dedicated to Tom’s journey to Japan, as the symbolism was too forced… It felt like two different novellas were woven into one, even if their characters are connected to one another, my heart goes out to Ally.
May 1, 2022
Ally and Tom are newly married. At the end of the 18-hundreds she is one of the first female doctors. He is an engineer, who receives an assignment in Japan to assist with building a lighthouse. She, for some practical reasons, can not join him during the trip, so he has to go away by himself. The couple becomes separated for several months, which is a very long time for a newly forged relationship.
A lot happens during their time apart.
She, despite being a grown-up and a professional, struggles with fear and trauma caused by her demanding, austere and religious mother whose critical voice is constantly sounding in her head. He, at the same time, experiences Japan, positively mesmerized by its beauty, sites, art and culture.
I am positivity fascinated by the development of their feelings and by the contrast of her inward and his outward perspectives. Their experiences could not be more different. For me both sides feel familiar. I have never been to Japan but if I was, I can very well imagine myself experiencing it the way Tom does, and I most positively know what it is like to have a mother, who can not understand “that each person's head contains a world as convincing and probably as verifiable as her own ''.
I loved this book, but I do have one slight complaint about the ending, which came far too abruptly, attempting to stitch together the two sides of the story, in a manner that felt if not violent, then at least far too desperate. But it does not diminish the overall experience of reading this book which was simply superb. It is one of those books that need time. Sarah Moss has an uncanny ability to convey what is inside her characters heads and becoming Ally or Tom does need some extra time.
A lot happens during their time apart.
She, despite being a grown-up and a professional, struggles with fear and trauma caused by her demanding, austere and religious mother whose critical voice is constantly sounding in her head. He, at the same time, experiences Japan, positively mesmerized by its beauty, sites, art and culture.
I am positivity fascinated by the development of their feelings and by the contrast of her inward and his outward perspectives. Their experiences could not be more different. For me both sides feel familiar. I have never been to Japan but if I was, I can very well imagine myself experiencing it the way Tom does, and I most positively know what it is like to have a mother, who can not understand “that each person's head contains a world as convincing and probably as verifiable as her own ''.
I loved this book, but I do have one slight complaint about the ending, which came far too abruptly, attempting to stitch together the two sides of the story, in a manner that felt if not violent, then at least far too desperate. But it does not diminish the overall experience of reading this book which was simply superb. It is one of those books that need time. Sarah Moss has an uncanny ability to convey what is inside her characters heads and becoming Ally or Tom does need some extra time.
March 9, 2022
3.8 stars
Signs for Lost Children by Sarah Moss was a Buds & Books buddy read. This was my first Sarah Moss, and I found her writing style refreshing. I enjoyed the beautiful prose, and appreciated learning about Japanese culture during the late 1800s. The foxes in Japan were interesting.
A few weeks after their marriage, Tom Cavendish's work takes him to Japan, leaving his wife, Dr. Moberley-Cavendish behind in Cornwall. Ally begins her work as a physician at the Truro Asylum in England.
There is a saying, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder', but after living on opposite sides of the world for so many months, what will their reunion be like?
While reading this novel, I learned some new words. "Mizzle" and "perambulators" are two of my favourites.
Here is a quote from the book:-
"The sky has cleared, and sits like a blue ball up turned over the mountains ringing the city. Black cobbles are beginning to show through the snow like rocks breaking the surface of a pond, but the swooping roofs and tiled walls are steel quilted white. As they walk, the sun comes up over the mountain top, plain and swift as the turning tide, and before his eyes shadows form and strengthen on the ground and the ice crystals begin to sparkle in the snow. He screws up his eyes; it is too bright."
Signs for Lost Children by Sarah Moss was a Buds & Books buddy read. This was my first Sarah Moss, and I found her writing style refreshing. I enjoyed the beautiful prose, and appreciated learning about Japanese culture during the late 1800s. The foxes in Japan were interesting.
A few weeks after their marriage, Tom Cavendish's work takes him to Japan, leaving his wife, Dr. Moberley-Cavendish behind in Cornwall. Ally begins her work as a physician at the Truro Asylum in England.
There is a saying, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder', but after living on opposite sides of the world for so many months, what will their reunion be like?
While reading this novel, I learned some new words. "Mizzle" and "perambulators" are two of my favourites.
Here is a quote from the book:-
"The sky has cleared, and sits like a blue ball up turned over the mountains ringing the city. Black cobbles are beginning to show through the snow like rocks breaking the surface of a pond, but the swooping roofs and tiled walls are steel quilted white. As they walk, the sun comes up over the mountain top, plain and swift as the turning tide, and before his eyes shadows form and strengthen on the ground and the ice crystals begin to sparkle in the snow. He screws up his eyes; it is too bright."
August 13, 2023
Een van de eerste en één van de mindere boeken van Sarah Moss.
Het is een beetje braaf, een beetje schools. Eerst zij, dan hij en altijd zo afwisselend.
Het einde is echt pfffff.
Wat is er dan wel goed? Haar observaties zijn steeds uitstekend geschreven, of het nu om gevoelens, dingen, natuur,… gaat. Weergaloos.
Ook de onderwerpen die ze aansnijdt: psychisch lijden, de invloed van opvoeding en verleden, hoe je verandert door omstandigheden. Zeer goed!
Ik wou dat Sarah Moss eens de tijd nam om lang aan een boek te schrijven. Nu heb ik de indruk dat er elk jaar een dun boek uitkomt, bijna een novelle. Maar ik verlang naar iets dat me lang meesleept.
Enfin, we zien wel.
Het is een beetje braaf, een beetje schools. Eerst zij, dan hij en altijd zo afwisselend.
Het einde is echt pfffff.
Wat is er dan wel goed? Haar observaties zijn steeds uitstekend geschreven, of het nu om gevoelens, dingen, natuur,… gaat. Weergaloos.
Ook de onderwerpen die ze aansnijdt: psychisch lijden, de invloed van opvoeding en verleden, hoe je verandert door omstandigheden. Zeer goed!
Ik wou dat Sarah Moss eens de tijd nam om lang aan een boek te schrijven. Nu heb ik de indruk dat er elk jaar een dun boek uitkomt, bijna een novelle. Maar ik verlang naar iets dat me lang meesleept.
Enfin, we zien wel.
April 5, 2021
Although it is a sequel to Bodies of Light, 'Signs for Lost Children' stands very well alone. It follows Alethea, now married and working as a doctor, and her husband Tom. Alethea's mother, the other protagonist of the previous book, barely appears. However she continues to haunt Alethea and thus the novel. Once her husband departs on a journey to Japan, the narrative splits to follow both halves of the married couple. This works extremely well, as the two sets of experiences are fascinating both in isolation and in contrast to one another. Alethea works with mentally ill women and has mental health struggles of her own, while Tom explores Japan and is transfixed by what he finds. The depiction of Alethea's anxiety and intrusive thoughts is very vivid and convincing, uncomfortably so in fact. She reflects upon madness in women and how it is treated in Victorian England, while struggling to find purpose amid the legacy of her mother's abusive strictness. Tom's adventures in Japan are pleasanter and more escapist to read, while also shedding light on cultural perceptions of sanity and inappropriate behaviour. His chapters are filled with wonderful visual and sensory details, as he keenly observes beautiful places and objects. After enjoying these wonderful parallel narratives, I was less pleased by the ending. Nonetheless, this is an involving, subtle, and beautifully written historical novel. On balance I preferred it to Bodies of Light.
July 28, 2017
Beautiful, wistful, painful - we rejoin Ally Moberley - now Doctor Ally Moberley-Cavendish - as she prepares to wave her new husband goodbye. Can their young marriage survive a separation of many months as he sets out to Japan? Left alone in a strange place, with the pressures of being not only one of England's first women doctors, but one of the first to work in an asylum, can Ally quiet her own unsettled mind or will her demons get the better of her? Alone in a country that is foreign in ways he could never imagine, can Tom stay true to his new wife, or will he be seduced by difference and distance? Can the young couple find their way home to one another?
This is feelings all the way down - fierce in its acknowledgement of the battles faced by women fighting for equality; gentle in its understanding of the battles faced by anyone who struggles with their mental health; and - above all else - clear in its message that it is kindness we should cherish above all else. That the worth of a life is not measured in hard work or self-sacrifice so much as in the small ways we can spend it caring for one another.
Sorry, Tom. It's all about Ally for me, and her journey here is a wonderful sequel to her struggles through Bodies of Light.
This is feelings all the way down - fierce in its acknowledgement of the battles faced by women fighting for equality; gentle in its understanding of the battles faced by anyone who struggles with their mental health; and - above all else - clear in its message that it is kindness we should cherish above all else. That the worth of a life is not measured in hard work or self-sacrifice so much as in the small ways we can spend it caring for one another.
Sorry, Tom. It's all about Ally for me, and her journey here is a wonderful sequel to her struggles through Bodies of Light.
August 14, 2016
The quality of the writing deserves more than a three and I would definitely pick up another Sarah Moss novel. The issue for me was that she writes so convincingly (& at great length) about the pain and mental suffering of many of her characters, notably Ally, that I struggled to believe in the redemptive, happier and more conventional parts.
November 7, 2015
This is I think a rather unworthy sequel to the gruelling 'Bodies Of Light'. It continues the story of Tom, the lighthouse engineer and Aly the doctor. This is a novel of two journeys : the physical and then metaphysical journey of Tom to Kyoto in Japan where he appears to do very little of the work he was commissioned to do but embarks on a spiritual and cultural exploration of Japanese culture and belief systems set alongside the painful psychological journey of his wife Alys who travels from London to Falmouth in West Cornwall and takes up employment in a psychiatric institution. The narrative journeys of both Aly and Tom unfold through the structure of short alternate chapters which though at times I found irritating on the whole works very well. Moss is an acute observer of the natural world and the Japanese chapters are suffused with beautiful lyrical imagery whilst she also captures perfectly the endless mizzle of winter in West Cornwall where nothing really is ever dry.
Sometimes Moss's work has an almost fairytale , mythic quality. The tale has a wicked mother, an absent father, a drowned sister as well as an Aunt and Uncle was charming house in London reminds me of the Darlings abode in Peter Pan. There are also references to The Tempest and The Odyssey.
Why was I a bit underwhelmed. Not sure really. Think I was just enthralled by Bodies of Light which was an extraordinay exposure of multiple abuse.
Both novels highly recommended
Sometimes Moss's work has an almost fairytale , mythic quality. The tale has a wicked mother, an absent father, a drowned sister as well as an Aunt and Uncle was charming house in London reminds me of the Darlings abode in Peter Pan. There are also references to The Tempest and The Odyssey.
Why was I a bit underwhelmed. Not sure really. Think I was just enthralled by Bodies of Light which was an extraordinay exposure of multiple abuse.
Both novels highly recommended
June 3, 2016
Disappointing. Very slow paced. I had little interest in the Japanese part of the story and would have preferred further exploration of the story of the main female character and the care of mentally ill people at that time in history.
March 29, 2017
Very intense and struggled at points but beautifully written. Japan elements were fascinating and clearly carefully researched. Ally's life continued to be tough as a result of her mother and abusive childhood. A tough read but appreciate the research and excellent writing.
December 14, 2015
Novel set in Falmouth and Japan (“an exquisite novel of the 1880s”)
One of the Financial Times Best Books of 2015.
It is the1880s. Tom and Ally are recently married but Tom’s job takes him to Japan where he is to advise on building a lighthouse, whilst Ally keeps the home fires burning in Falmouth. She is one of the first women to qualify as a doctor and is dipping her toe in the water and trying to reform the care and treatment of women with mental health issues, who are incarcerated in a local asylum.
Improving conditions in such an institution is a thankless task and Ally struggles to make headway with both the patients and the embedded strictures of the place. All the while the cutting voice of her mother burrows away in her head – her mother impresses on Ally time and again, how she, virtuously and with no self regard, has sacrificed everything in her life to be able to devote herself to the needs of the poor, but by so doing has alienated her family members through her haranguing self denial. Ally is in a permanent state of anxiety and apprehension around her mother, whether she is physically present or not.
Tom – whilst in Kyoto, Japan – has been tasked to bring back items of Japanese art and finery for a collector in Falmouth, and relishes the newness and difference that he encounters in this utterly foreign land. The quality of the author’s description is beguiling and nuanced.
There are many different levels in this book, strands that weave and come together. Tom is learning about Japanese folklore, and understanding how madness is explained away by the notion that foxes inhabit the brains of the mentally unstable (yet paradoxically they are also revered on occasion). This neatly dovetails with the work that Ally is doing back in Falmouth. Her work, however, continues to be exacerbated by her own mother’s continually droning ‘voice’, her acute self denial governs still governs Ally’s every move. It is clear that the author has a great interest in mental health issues.
Both husband and wife struggle to understand the unique environment in which they each find themselves and each has to face their own demons and disconnectedness, which then reverberate back into their marital dynamics. Can they resurrect some kind of connection and normality once Tom returns from his travels, or have their personal and individual experiences changed them beyond repair?
There are wonderful little insights into the culture of the time, especially in Japan, where, for example in Tokyo there was already piped water, whilst in London the authorities were still struggling with typhoid and cholera (and cholera, of course is spread through contaminated water, as the authorities soon come to discover). The ‘Signs for Lost Children’ of the title is a phenomenon Tom discovers whilst out in Japan, and that strand appears in various guises – often ephemeral – throughout. There is also evident delight in the objets d’art that Tom sources – the cloths and the delicately carved netsuke, and pleasure in the little observations of Japanese Custom, beautifully rendered. A rewarding and well written book with creatively tackled subject matter. The book deserves a wider audience.
This review first appeared on the TripFiction blog: Both husband and wife struggle to understand the unique environment in which they each find themselves and each has to face their own demons and disconnectedness, which then reverberate back into their marital dynamics. Can they resurrect some kind of connection and normality once Tom returns from his travels, or have their personal and individual experiences changed them beyond repair?
There are wonderful little insights into the culture of the time, especially in Japan, where, for example in Tokyo there was already piped water, whilst in London the authorities were still struggling with typhoid and cholera (and cholera, of course is spread through contaminated water, as the authorities soon come to discover). The ‘Signs for Lost Children’ of the title is a phenomenon Tom discovers whilst out in Japan, and that strand appears in various guises – often ephemeral – throughout. There is also evident delight in the objets d’art that Tom sources – the cloths and the delicately carved netsuke, and pleasure in the little observations of Japanese Custom, beautifully rendered. A rewarding and well written book with creatively tackled subject matter. The book deserves a wider audience.
This review first appeared on the TripFiction blog: Both husband and wife struggle to understand the unique environment in which they each find themselves and each has to face their own demons and disconnectedness, which then reverberate back into their marital dynamics. Can they resurrect some kind of connection and normality once Tom returns from his travels, or have their personal and individual experiences changed them beyond repair?
There are wonderful little insights into the culture of the time, especially in Japan, where, for example in Tokyo there was already piped water, whilst in London the authorities were still struggling with typhoid and cholera (and cholera, of course is spread through contaminated water, as the authorities soon come to discover). The ‘Signs for Lost Children’ of the title is a phenomenon Tom discovers whilst out in Japan, and that strand appears in various guises – often ephemeral – throughout. There is also evident delight in the objets d’art that Tom sources – the cloths and the delicately carved netsuke, and pleasure in the little observations of Japanese Custom, beautifully rendered. A rewarding and well written book with creatively tackled subject matter. The book deserves a wider audience.
This review first Both husband and wife struggle to understand the unique environment in which they each find themselves and each has to face their own demons and disconnectedness, which then reverberate back into their marital dynamics. Can they resurrect some kind of connection and normality once Tom returns from his travels, or have their personal and individual experiences changed them beyond repair?
There are wonderful little insights into the culture of the time, especially in Japan, where, for example in Tokyo there was already piped water, whilst in London the authorities were still struggling with typhoid and cholera (and cholera, of course is spread through contaminated water, as the authorities soon come to discover). The ‘Signs for Lost Children’ of the title is a phenomenon Tom discovers whilst out in Japan, and that strand appears in various guises – often ephemeral – throughout. There is also evident delight in the objets d’art that Tom sources – the cloths and the delicately carved netsuke, and pleasure in the little observations of Japanese Custom, beautifully rendered. A rewarding and well written book with creatively tackled subject matter. The book deserves a wider audience.
Both husband and wife struggle to understand the unique environment in which they each find themselves and each has to face their own demons and disconnectedness, which then reverberate back into their marital dynamics. Can they resurrect some kind of connection and normality once Tom returns from his travels, or have their personal and individual experiences changed them beyond repair?
There are wonderful little insights into the culture of the time, especially in Japan, where, for example in Tokyo there was already piped water, whilst in London the authorities were still struggling with typhoid and cholera (and cholera, of course is spread through contaminated water, as the authorities soon come to discover). The ‘Signs for Lost Children’ of the title is a phenomenon Tom discovers whilst out in Japan, and that strand appears in various guises – often ephemeral – throughout. There is also evident delight in the objets d’art that Tom sources – the cloths and the delicately carved netsuke, and pleasure in the little observations of Japanese Custom, beautifully rendered. A rewarding and well written book with creatively tackled subject matter. The book deserves a wider audience.
One of the Financial Times Best Books of 2015.
It is the1880s. Tom and Ally are recently married but Tom’s job takes him to Japan where he is to advise on building a lighthouse, whilst Ally keeps the home fires burning in Falmouth. She is one of the first women to qualify as a doctor and is dipping her toe in the water and trying to reform the care and treatment of women with mental health issues, who are incarcerated in a local asylum.
Improving conditions in such an institution is a thankless task and Ally struggles to make headway with both the patients and the embedded strictures of the place. All the while the cutting voice of her mother burrows away in her head – her mother impresses on Ally time and again, how she, virtuously and with no self regard, has sacrificed everything in her life to be able to devote herself to the needs of the poor, but by so doing has alienated her family members through her haranguing self denial. Ally is in a permanent state of anxiety and apprehension around her mother, whether she is physically present or not.
Tom – whilst in Kyoto, Japan – has been tasked to bring back items of Japanese art and finery for a collector in Falmouth, and relishes the newness and difference that he encounters in this utterly foreign land. The quality of the author’s description is beguiling and nuanced.
There are many different levels in this book, strands that weave and come together. Tom is learning about Japanese folklore, and understanding how madness is explained away by the notion that foxes inhabit the brains of the mentally unstable (yet paradoxically they are also revered on occasion). This neatly dovetails with the work that Ally is doing back in Falmouth. Her work, however, continues to be exacerbated by her own mother’s continually droning ‘voice’, her acute self denial governs still governs Ally’s every move. It is clear that the author has a great interest in mental health issues.
Both husband and wife struggle to understand the unique environment in which they each find themselves and each has to face their own demons and disconnectedness, which then reverberate back into their marital dynamics. Can they resurrect some kind of connection and normality once Tom returns from his travels, or have their personal and individual experiences changed them beyond repair?
There are wonderful little insights into the culture of the time, especially in Japan, where, for example in Tokyo there was already piped water, whilst in London the authorities were still struggling with typhoid and cholera (and cholera, of course is spread through contaminated water, as the authorities soon come to discover). The ‘Signs for Lost Children’ of the title is a phenomenon Tom discovers whilst out in Japan, and that strand appears in various guises – often ephemeral – throughout. There is also evident delight in the objets d’art that Tom sources – the cloths and the delicately carved netsuke, and pleasure in the little observations of Japanese Custom, beautifully rendered. A rewarding and well written book with creatively tackled subject matter. The book deserves a wider audience.
This review first appeared on the TripFiction blog: Both husband and wife struggle to understand the unique environment in which they each find themselves and each has to face their own demons and disconnectedness, which then reverberate back into their marital dynamics. Can they resurrect some kind of connection and normality once Tom returns from his travels, or have their personal and individual experiences changed them beyond repair?
There are wonderful little insights into the culture of the time, especially in Japan, where, for example in Tokyo there was already piped water, whilst in London the authorities were still struggling with typhoid and cholera (and cholera, of course is spread through contaminated water, as the authorities soon come to discover). The ‘Signs for Lost Children’ of the title is a phenomenon Tom discovers whilst out in Japan, and that strand appears in various guises – often ephemeral – throughout. There is also evident delight in the objets d’art that Tom sources – the cloths and the delicately carved netsuke, and pleasure in the little observations of Japanese Custom, beautifully rendered. A rewarding and well written book with creatively tackled subject matter. The book deserves a wider audience.
This review first appeared on the TripFiction blog: Both husband and wife struggle to understand the unique environment in which they each find themselves and each has to face their own demons and disconnectedness, which then reverberate back into their marital dynamics. Can they resurrect some kind of connection and normality once Tom returns from his travels, or have their personal and individual experiences changed them beyond repair?
There are wonderful little insights into the culture of the time, especially in Japan, where, for example in Tokyo there was already piped water, whilst in London the authorities were still struggling with typhoid and cholera (and cholera, of course is spread through contaminated water, as the authorities soon come to discover). The ‘Signs for Lost Children’ of the title is a phenomenon Tom discovers whilst out in Japan, and that strand appears in various guises – often ephemeral – throughout. There is also evident delight in the objets d’art that Tom sources – the cloths and the delicately carved netsuke, and pleasure in the little observations of Japanese Custom, beautifully rendered. A rewarding and well written book with creatively tackled subject matter. The book deserves a wider audience.
This review first Both husband and wife struggle to understand the unique environment in which they each find themselves and each has to face their own demons and disconnectedness, which then reverberate back into their marital dynamics. Can they resurrect some kind of connection and normality once Tom returns from his travels, or have their personal and individual experiences changed them beyond repair?
There are wonderful little insights into the culture of the time, especially in Japan, where, for example in Tokyo there was already piped water, whilst in London the authorities were still struggling with typhoid and cholera (and cholera, of course is spread through contaminated water, as the authorities soon come to discover). The ‘Signs for Lost Children’ of the title is a phenomenon Tom discovers whilst out in Japan, and that strand appears in various guises – often ephemeral – throughout. There is also evident delight in the objets d’art that Tom sources – the cloths and the delicately carved netsuke, and pleasure in the little observations of Japanese Custom, beautifully rendered. A rewarding and well written book with creatively tackled subject matter. The book deserves a wider audience.
Both husband and wife struggle to understand the unique environment in which they each find themselves and each has to face their own demons and disconnectedness, which then reverberate back into their marital dynamics. Can they resurrect some kind of connection and normality once Tom returns from his travels, or have their personal and individual experiences changed them beyond repair?
There are wonderful little insights into the culture of the time, especially in Japan, where, for example in Tokyo there was already piped water, whilst in London the authorities were still struggling with typhoid and cholera (and cholera, of course is spread through contaminated water, as the authorities soon come to discover). The ‘Signs for Lost Children’ of the title is a phenomenon Tom discovers whilst out in Japan, and that strand appears in various guises – often ephemeral – throughout. There is also evident delight in the objets d’art that Tom sources – the cloths and the delicately carved netsuke, and pleasure in the little observations of Japanese Custom, beautifully rendered. A rewarding and well written book with creatively tackled subject matter. The book deserves a wider audience.
June 18, 2018
With this duology, I’m assured of Sarah Moss as a writer of incredible nuance, intelligence, observation, elegance, and style. Signs for Lost Children picks up just where Bodies of Light left, so I’d really encourage one to start with Bodies of Light before they try this as the motivations of these characters, the backstories and context would all be lost by starting directly here.
Bodies of Light triumphs in its themes, but rushes through the years. Signs for Lost Children, on the other hand, is set across a single year following Ally’s marriage. So in some respect, there’s more coherence to the plot, more substance to the characters. Just weeks into married life, the young couple face a period of separation with Tom heading off to Japan for a work assignment and Ally taking up the position as a doctor in the Truro mental asylum. The narrative then alternates between Ally and Tom, mapping their lives from Cornwall to Japan creating a dichotomous yet distinct ‘parallel lines, parallel lives’ kind-of story.
At its core Signs for Lost Children offers a fascinating deep-dive into the stigma of mental illnesses in the 19th century. Ally is such an interesting protagonist in her own sense as she herself suffers from anxiety issues stemming from the mental torture instigated by her own mother. Moss creates these incredibly claustrophobic scenes of being trapped in Ally’s head where you understand that she’s allowing herself to be hurt by her mother, and as a reader, you feel the pent-up frustration and yet an overwhelming feeling of empathy of what it means to be in that position. Incapacitated, by sheer lack of will to fight back.
Ally, thus, portrays a very unique position. She is both the physician and the patient, the healer and the sufferer, at once, and in a time when mental illnesses were not considered as ’real’ illnesses. Alternating with that are stunning descriptions of 19th century Japan, of the way mental illnesses there, were perceived as being possessed by mythical fox spirits and the curiosities of seeing this ancient culture from the eyes of a British man. The dual narrative braid into one another, charting each of their paths as they navigate loneliness and their own internal struggles. The only setback I felt was it dragged at parts.
Sarah Moss isn’t for everyone. There is a certain level of patience required to tackle a Sarah Moss novel, but the end result is rewarding in my opinion. Her stories aren’t plot-heavy, they aren’t filled with intrigue. Instead, they offer thorough insight into a particular topic, at a level that almost feels academic without being factual, interesting without being laborious, atmospheric without necessarily having any elements of mystery and through those layers, Moss shines.
Rating: 4/5
Bodies of Light triumphs in its themes, but rushes through the years. Signs for Lost Children, on the other hand, is set across a single year following Ally’s marriage. So in some respect, there’s more coherence to the plot, more substance to the characters. Just weeks into married life, the young couple face a period of separation with Tom heading off to Japan for a work assignment and Ally taking up the position as a doctor in the Truro mental asylum. The narrative then alternates between Ally and Tom, mapping their lives from Cornwall to Japan creating a dichotomous yet distinct ‘parallel lines, parallel lives’ kind-of story.
At its core Signs for Lost Children offers a fascinating deep-dive into the stigma of mental illnesses in the 19th century. Ally is such an interesting protagonist in her own sense as she herself suffers from anxiety issues stemming from the mental torture instigated by her own mother. Moss creates these incredibly claustrophobic scenes of being trapped in Ally’s head where you understand that she’s allowing herself to be hurt by her mother, and as a reader, you feel the pent-up frustration and yet an overwhelming feeling of empathy of what it means to be in that position. Incapacitated, by sheer lack of will to fight back.
Ally, thus, portrays a very unique position. She is both the physician and the patient, the healer and the sufferer, at once, and in a time when mental illnesses were not considered as ’real’ illnesses. Alternating with that are stunning descriptions of 19th century Japan, of the way mental illnesses there, were perceived as being possessed by mythical fox spirits and the curiosities of seeing this ancient culture from the eyes of a British man. The dual narrative braid into one another, charting each of their paths as they navigate loneliness and their own internal struggles. The only setback I felt was it dragged at parts.
Sarah Moss isn’t for everyone. There is a certain level of patience required to tackle a Sarah Moss novel, but the end result is rewarding in my opinion. Her stories aren’t plot-heavy, they aren’t filled with intrigue. Instead, they offer thorough insight into a particular topic, at a level that almost feels academic without being factual, interesting without being laborious, atmospheric without necessarily having any elements of mystery and through those layers, Moss shines.
Rating: 4/5
April 15, 2021
The final part of this loose trilogy about Dr Ally Mobberley Cavendish reinforces my feeling that Sarah moss is rapidly becoming one of my favourite writers.
Book 1 Night waking had been set in the modern day but through historical extracts we learnt about Ally's sister May who as a newly qualified midwife had ventured to a remote Scottish island to help establish modern birthing practices. The relationship between May and Ally was expanded upon in the next book where we follow Ally through a childhood in which her zealously religious mother and self obsessed artist father had me cheering with relief when Ally qualified as one of the first women doctors and moved newly married to live with her husband Tom in Cornwall having escaped from the maternal vice like grip on her life.
In this book Tom within weeks of marriage journeys to Japan for his employment as a lighthouse engineer and with a commission to find art pieces for the local aristocrat. ally is left alone in her new role as dr in a women's asylum and very quickly she struggles under the emotional strain leading to her to return to Manchester to help her mother ( the cheer quickly turned to a shout of anguish and my nearly throwing the book across the room).
The story is told with great tenderness for character and a brilliant evocation of time and place. I was totally immersed in this 19th century world which stretched from descriptions of Japan and it's culture , to the horror of treatment of the mentally ill in that era, to the slums of Manchester. Sarah moss has a unique ability to tell a good story with plenty of social history without the reader feeling overwhelmed by fact or feeling that a writer is trying to show how clever they are with obvious research visible. Sarah Moss also with sensitivity explores as she did in bk 2 the struggles with sexual relationships in Victorian times and the impact and misunderstandings in newly married couples especially after absences.
I will be sorry to leave the world of Victorian female medics but I leave it pleased with knowing that this is an author I will enjoy reading for many years.
Book 1 Night waking had been set in the modern day but through historical extracts we learnt about Ally's sister May who as a newly qualified midwife had ventured to a remote Scottish island to help establish modern birthing practices. The relationship between May and Ally was expanded upon in the next book where we follow Ally through a childhood in which her zealously religious mother and self obsessed artist father had me cheering with relief when Ally qualified as one of the first women doctors and moved newly married to live with her husband Tom in Cornwall having escaped from the maternal vice like grip on her life.
In this book Tom within weeks of marriage journeys to Japan for his employment as a lighthouse engineer and with a commission to find art pieces for the local aristocrat. ally is left alone in her new role as dr in a women's asylum and very quickly she struggles under the emotional strain leading to her to return to Manchester to help her mother ( the cheer quickly turned to a shout of anguish and my nearly throwing the book across the room).
The story is told with great tenderness for character and a brilliant evocation of time and place. I was totally immersed in this 19th century world which stretched from descriptions of Japan and it's culture , to the horror of treatment of the mentally ill in that era, to the slums of Manchester. Sarah moss has a unique ability to tell a good story with plenty of social history without the reader feeling overwhelmed by fact or feeling that a writer is trying to show how clever they are with obvious research visible. Sarah Moss also with sensitivity explores as she did in bk 2 the struggles with sexual relationships in Victorian times and the impact and misunderstandings in newly married couples especially after absences.
I will be sorry to leave the world of Victorian female medics but I leave it pleased with knowing that this is an author I will enjoy reading for many years.
October 12, 2019
“You would think that knowing the human body as she does, knowing the layers of skin, fat, muscle and bone, the pathways of blood, mucus, urine and faeces, would diminish enchantment. Apparently it does not, and considering the numbers of married doctors, and come to that nurses, this should be less surprising than she finds it. Of all the forms of learning, this should have protected her. And has not. She shakes her head, as if lust could be swatted like a fly.”
.
.
.
Signs for Lost Children is apparently a sequel to Night Waking and Bodies of Light which I haven’t read, but that doesn’t detract from Sarah Moss’ wonderful writing and this part of the story set in the 1880’s. Ally meets Tom, a lighthouse engineer, on the cusp of her graduation from medical school. Shortly after their marriage Tom leaves for a commission in Japan and Ally takes a position “mad-doctoring” at Truro Asylum. The novel explores the boundary between sanity and insanity, in particular how easy it might be for a woman to find herself on the wrong side of that line. It also explores relationships and what happens when they are tested by absence, rebellion and temptation. Motherhood is another strong theme that permeates a narrative that alternates between the perspectives of Ally and Tom. I found myself impatient to reach Ally’s chapters, but the descriptions of Japan at the end of the nineteenth century are transporting for want of a better word! This is not a fast-paced, plot-driven read, but one that unfolds gradually drawing you in. Sarah Moss is now a must-buy author for me which gives me the perfect excuse to go back and read the first two books in this series!
.
.
.
Signs for Lost Children is apparently a sequel to Night Waking and Bodies of Light which I haven’t read, but that doesn’t detract from Sarah Moss’ wonderful writing and this part of the story set in the 1880’s. Ally meets Tom, a lighthouse engineer, on the cusp of her graduation from medical school. Shortly after their marriage Tom leaves for a commission in Japan and Ally takes a position “mad-doctoring” at Truro Asylum. The novel explores the boundary between sanity and insanity, in particular how easy it might be for a woman to find herself on the wrong side of that line. It also explores relationships and what happens when they are tested by absence, rebellion and temptation. Motherhood is another strong theme that permeates a narrative that alternates between the perspectives of Ally and Tom. I found myself impatient to reach Ally’s chapters, but the descriptions of Japan at the end of the nineteenth century are transporting for want of a better word! This is not a fast-paced, plot-driven read, but one that unfolds gradually drawing you in. Sarah Moss is now a must-buy author for me which gives me the perfect excuse to go back and read the first two books in this series!
March 13, 2021
Unglaublich schön und unglaublich still geschrieben
Man lebt mit den Protagonisten und fühlt jede Minute mit ihnen.
Die Autorin bemüht sich um einen Rundumblick auf diese Welten und liefert eine Vielzahl von Details und Einzelmomenten
Wehmütig ist man am Ende angekommen und muss sofort die Vorgeschichte lesen
Man lebt mit den Protagonisten und fühlt jede Minute mit ihnen.
Die Autorin bemüht sich um einen Rundumblick auf diese Welten und liefert eine Vielzahl von Details und Einzelmomenten
Wehmütig ist man am Ende angekommen und muss sofort die Vorgeschichte lesen
May 28, 2018
Not quite as immersive as Bodies of Light, yet still really beautiful. Unfortunately I couldn't give it the attention it might have required as I was in a hurry to finish it - a reread of the whole series will have to happen at some point.
August 7, 2019
Beautifully written, gentle paced story that gives insight into life in Japan in the late 1800s, and life for a woman trying to find her way as a professional in a man’s world. I have just read Sarah Moss’s latest book Ghost Wall, which I probably enjoyed more, but was keen to read more by her and this one did not disappoint. Not for anyone who likes lots of action, but I really enjoyed it.
February 25, 2022
So i was drawn to this book because of the cover and it was 50p in the charity shop!
but OOPS I didn't realise it was a sequel so I'll have to get my hands on the first book.
Having said that I don't think it made a difference as I still enjoyed the story.
but OOPS I didn't realise it was a sequel so I'll have to get my hands on the first book.
Having said that I don't think it made a difference as I still enjoyed the story.
April 5, 2019
This was the first novel by Sarah Moss I have read. It was well written and interesting but didn’t completely hold my interest.
February 7, 2018
I picked up this book because part of its focus was on Japan, not realizing that it continues the story of characters from a previous book. I don't think that affected my appreciation.
This is a sensitively written book. The characters all feel individual and their loneliness affected me.
Basic plot: a young engineer marries one of the first women in England to become a doctor. They seem simpatico and care for each other, but part of the reason they get married (quickly) is that he is going on an overseas assignment to work on construction of a lighthouse (his specialty). The two don't initially know where he is going because the destination is sensitive and is kept secret. Turns out it is Japan.
From here, the book splits while it follows Ally (the doctor) and Tom on their separate paths. Part of the poignancy of their separation is that Tom would love for Ally to come with him, but he knows that her profession is important to her and he doesn't want to force her to suspend her career to travel with him and have no occupation. Ally would like to be asked, but she feels strongly that she must establish herself as a doctor. The two never discuss this with each other. They understand each other well enough to roughly know what course the discussion would take, but it is one of those conversations that would be good to have in order to clear the air.
Most of the book is an interior study of what it's like to go through a sea change alone, while knowing that you are tied to someone else. Tom explores Japan and begins to fall in love with its culture, its craft, its beauty. Ally finds herself drawn to work in an asylum. You may already know that 19th century asylums were places where inconvenient women might find themselves inured for the rest of their lives. Ally has some nervous issues herself, a result of being raised with a rigid mother and louchely neglectful father. Being around other abused women and being exposed to their pain begins to unravel something in her. She keeps herself disconnected from the village in Cornwall where she has moved after her marriage, and refuses herself any comfort. The cottage in which she stays is permanently damp, she often doesn't have the energy to bother to feed herself. She tips between not heating her cottage to save coal and then needing to have a fire because her linens and clothes are starting to mildew due to the constant damp chill. After a breakdown, she goes to her mother, only to have the pain of her past escalated. Ally doesn't know how to care for herself, only how to care for others, and without any support she comes unmoored, losing her sense of self.
The bell curve of sanity is just one of the things explored. There's also the idea that loneliness can make a person lose themselves. I can be anxious myself, and it was painfully familiar to read through Ally's inner debates of what exactly she could allow herself. Her inner struggles were very believable and rendered with understanding.
Ally and Tom come back together, but are they really the same people? Can either of them understand the experiences of the other? Can the marriage continue? This sounds like it could be melodramatic, but I found it a sadly realistic view of two people who want to be together but don't know how to connect. I haven't spoiled the end for you, although I'd say the journey itself is the point of the book.
This is a sensitively written book. The characters all feel individual and their loneliness affected me.
Basic plot: a young engineer marries one of the first women in England to become a doctor. They seem simpatico and care for each other, but part of the reason they get married (quickly) is that he is going on an overseas assignment to work on construction of a lighthouse (his specialty). The two don't initially know where he is going because the destination is sensitive and is kept secret. Turns out it is Japan.
From here, the book splits while it follows Ally (the doctor) and Tom on their separate paths. Part of the poignancy of their separation is that Tom would love for Ally to come with him, but he knows that her profession is important to her and he doesn't want to force her to suspend her career to travel with him and have no occupation. Ally would like to be asked, but she feels strongly that she must establish herself as a doctor. The two never discuss this with each other. They understand each other well enough to roughly know what course the discussion would take, but it is one of those conversations that would be good to have in order to clear the air.
Most of the book is an interior study of what it's like to go through a sea change alone, while knowing that you are tied to someone else. Tom explores Japan and begins to fall in love with its culture, its craft, its beauty. Ally finds herself drawn to work in an asylum. You may already know that 19th century asylums were places where inconvenient women might find themselves inured for the rest of their lives. Ally has some nervous issues herself, a result of being raised with a rigid mother and louchely neglectful father. Being around other abused women and being exposed to their pain begins to unravel something in her. She keeps herself disconnected from the village in Cornwall where she has moved after her marriage, and refuses herself any comfort. The cottage in which she stays is permanently damp, she often doesn't have the energy to bother to feed herself. She tips between not heating her cottage to save coal and then needing to have a fire because her linens and clothes are starting to mildew due to the constant damp chill. After a breakdown, she goes to her mother, only to have the pain of her past escalated. Ally doesn't know how to care for herself, only how to care for others, and without any support she comes unmoored, losing her sense of self.
The bell curve of sanity is just one of the things explored. There's also the idea that loneliness can make a person lose themselves. I can be anxious myself, and it was painfully familiar to read through Ally's inner debates of what exactly she could allow herself. Her inner struggles were very believable and rendered with understanding.
Ally and Tom come back together, but are they really the same people? Can either of them understand the experiences of the other? Can the marriage continue? This sounds like it could be melodramatic, but I found it a sadly realistic view of two people who want to be together but don't know how to connect. I haven't spoiled the end for you, although I'd say the journey itself is the point of the book.
December 27, 2017
There should be signs on the book or the front-matter section, that Signs for Lost Children, if not a sequel, is directly related to Moss's previous book, Bodies of Light. I did not know of this until I finished the novel and Googled for some reviews; it would have explained the seemingly abundance of Ally's, the female protagonist. backstory, as compared to Tom, the male protagnist.
That being said, Moss paints the novel elegantly and layers upon each sub-arc intricate webs of rich emotions and stimulants. Yes Tom's experience is more on the external, the beauty he saw in Japan and how they transform him; Ally journey is internal, how she escapes the shackles of her puritan Momma, her coping and her grieving.
The gaps between each chapters at times undo the propulsion of the plot. The book toggles between Tom and Ally's lives in Japan and England respectively. There are key scenes where Moss has omitted, leaving them to the imagination of the readers. Once in a while, I fear Moss might have gone too far and steered dangerously closed to a feminist fanfiction set in the Victorian age; some pages are shaky, the characters too radical.
The Guardian declared this is not to be read as a standalone novel. Perhaps so, my rating would definitely have been more if I have had the chance to read Bodies of Light. If you like Signs for Lost Children, I highly recommend instead Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry.
That being said, Moss paints the novel elegantly and layers upon each sub-arc intricate webs of rich emotions and stimulants. Yes Tom's experience is more on the external, the beauty he saw in Japan and how they transform him; Ally journey is internal, how she escapes the shackles of her puritan Momma, her coping and her grieving.
The gaps between each chapters at times undo the propulsion of the plot. The book toggles between Tom and Ally's lives in Japan and England respectively. There are key scenes where Moss has omitted, leaving them to the imagination of the readers. Once in a while, I fear Moss might have gone too far and steered dangerously closed to a feminist fanfiction set in the Victorian age; some pages are shaky, the characters too radical.
The Guardian declared this is not to be read as a standalone novel. Perhaps so, my rating would definitely have been more if I have had the chance to read Bodies of Light. If you like Signs for Lost Children, I highly recommend instead Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry.
June 14, 2017
Having very much enjoyed Bodies of Light I was eager to find out what happened next to Dr Alethea Moberley, now married to engineer Tom Cavendish and I was not disappointed by this sequel to the earlier book.
The psychological damage done to Ally by her mother Elizabeth (herself damaged by her own mother) is not easily resolved and Ally continues to battle with this malign influence while establishing herself in her profession, working at an asylum. She is alone while Tom travels to Japan but after a crisis with her mother is strongly supported by her sympathetic aunt Mary and good friend Annie. The author offers sensitive insights into Ally's mental struggles and the resolution, when she is able to establish a caring community to support women leaving the asylum, is quite uplifting for the reader.
The sections describing Tom's experiences in Japan bring that country vividly to life as he struggles to communicate and to understand the beliefs and practices of this strange country which he comes to love very much. The effect of the separation on their marriage is very true to life.
Sarah Moss writes beautifully. Her descriptions of place are very vivid and mesh very effectively with her characters' inner thoughts. She should be winning prizes.
The psychological damage done to Ally by her mother Elizabeth (herself damaged by her own mother) is not easily resolved and Ally continues to battle with this malign influence while establishing herself in her profession, working at an asylum. She is alone while Tom travels to Japan but after a crisis with her mother is strongly supported by her sympathetic aunt Mary and good friend Annie. The author offers sensitive insights into Ally's mental struggles and the resolution, when she is able to establish a caring community to support women leaving the asylum, is quite uplifting for the reader.
The sections describing Tom's experiences in Japan bring that country vividly to life as he struggles to communicate and to understand the beliefs and practices of this strange country which he comes to love very much. The effect of the separation on their marriage is very true to life.
Sarah Moss writes beautifully. Her descriptions of place are very vivid and mesh very effectively with her characters' inner thoughts. She should be winning prizes.
July 15, 2017
Wonderful sequel to Bodies of Light, a book I did not enjoy much, entirely my fault I am now sure. Sarah Moss' latest novel shows her trademark tenderness and care – in its finely wrought sentences and in the depictions of its characters, as well as in the workings of the mind of the two protagonists Ally and Tom. Ally also sees it as her life's essence: "To discover kindness, to discover that kindness is the only thing that matters." Both Tom and Ally possess this quality. Strangely, I found that an intriguing trait in a male character. Intriguing, but lovely: That he is willing and able to show kindness saves both his own and Ally's happiness, quite touching. – Ally's and Tom's stories after their (temporary) separation are both told with admirable restraint, it is somehow only fitting that Moss has chosen Japan and its aesthetics as background for Tom's withdrawal. That Ally works as a doctor in a mad house gives her solitude a much darker undertone, as she is contemplating and experiencing the fragility of a female mind formed by a damaging family constellation.
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