Mary Toft; or, The Rabbit Queen

by Dexter Palmer

From the highly acclaimed author of Version Control a stunning, powerfully evocative new novel based on a true story—in 1726 in the small town of Godalming, England, a young woman confounds the medical community by giving birth to dead rabbits.

Surgeon John Howard is a rational man. His apprentice Zachary knows John is reluctant to believe anything that purports to exist outside the realm of logic. But even John cannot explain how or why Mary Toft, the wife of a local farmer, manages to give birth to a dead rabbit. When this singular event becomes a regular occurrence, John realizes that nothing in his experience as a village physician has prepared him to deal with a situation as disturbing as this. He writes to several preeminent surgeons in London, three of whom quickly arrive in the small town of Godalming ready to observe and opine. When Mary's plight reaches the attention of King George, Mary and her doctors are summoned to London, where Zachary experiences for the first time a world apart from his small-town existence, and is exposed to some of the darkest corners of the human soul. All the while, Mary lies in bed, waiting for another birth, as doubts begin to blossom among the surgeons and a growing group of onlookers grow impatient for another miracle...

Genres: Historical Fiction, Fiction, Historical, Literary Fiction, British Literature, Literature, Audiobook

319 pages, Hardcover

First published November 19, 2019

About the author

Dexter Palmer lives in Princeton, New Jersey. His first novel, The Dream of Perpetual Motion, was published by St. Martin’s Press in 2010, and was selected as one of the best debuts of that year by Kirkus Reviews. His second, Version Control, was published by Pantheon Books in February 2016.

He holds a Ph.D. in English Literature from Princeton University, where he completed his dissertation on the novels of James Joyce, William Gaddis, and Thomas Pynchon (and where he also staged the first academic conference ever held at an Ivy League university on the subject of video games).

Reviews

[Jessica Woodbury · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars. At first, MARY TOFT seems like a book about what happens when we are confronted with the impossible. How does one fathom it? Through science or magic or faith? But as the book goes on it becomes clear that there is more to it than what you may have first thought, and that is the very heart of it: that it took you this long to see it.

Ultimately this is a book about our appetite for depravity, our lack of empathy, our inability to treat each other as human. It is about selfishness, greed, and ambition. It also dives into the many divides between us: city and country, rich and poor, man and woman.

That sounds like an awful lot for one book, I know, but it isn't every day that a book begins with a woman giving birth to a rabbit. A dead rabbit. A not-entirely-whole dead rabbit. Our protagonist is Zachary, the teenage apprentice to the local surgeon, who is called upon to assist by Mary Toft's husband, and then is repeatedly called to do so as the strange births continue. Zachary's youth and inexperience let him have a more detached view of the situation, which grows even more unusual after the surgeon seeks assistance from other, more lofty surgeons from London.

This is a very dark novel but it is quite aware of its own darkness. It is also quite aware of what books like this normally do and it is determined not to play by the rules. It is not a historical novel that wants to play in a new time period, instead it is a highly modern novel using a removed era to tell us an awful lot about ourselves in the present. If you are ready to let it sweep you away (and I was incredibly swept, I read it in two sittings) you will be unable to hide your eyes from its horrors and truths.

Palmer's previous novel VERSION CONTROL was my favorite novel of 2016 and I was very excited for this book. But I approached it with some hesitation. I can be quite picky about both science-fiction and historical fiction, but it's as clear as ever that Palmer can write in any genre he chooses and I will read it. His grasp of human complexity and ability to write in a voice that speaks to me immediately have now made him one of my I Will Read Everything They Write authors. I'm thrilled to add him to that pantheon and I hope that this book opens up all kinds of new readers to just what he's capable of.

[Carolyn Walsh · Rating 4 out of 5]

As a child, I was fascinated reading about human anomalies, oddities, and the grotesque I was a fan of Ripley’s Believe It or Not books and articles, and always thought them to be factual. When I read about the woman who gave birth to 17 rabbits I was credulous, although I knew very little about reproduction.

When I read that there was a well researched historical novel based on this hoax it went to the top of my reading list. The year was 1726 in a small community in England, a woman named Mary Toft begins giving birth to mutilated and dismembered rabbits. These startling, bizarre events are observed through the eyes of 14-year-old Zachary Walsh, apprentice surgeon to John Howard, the doctor attending Mary Croft. John takes his apprentice to a travelling sideshow, and they discuss which of the exhibits may be faked. Zachary has become infatuated by Anne, the daughter of the owner of the Travelling Curiosity Exhibit. She is a pretty girl, but her face is marred by a large red birthmark.

John Howard attends the first of the many weird, disgusting births accompanied by Crispin Walsh, a preacher and the father of Zachary. So begins an ongoing conflict between science, philosophy, and faith in God.
Howard writes to prominent London doctors to help explain this aberration and hope they can find a cure for Mary’s painful and peculiar condition. These unnatural births are observed by three expert London surgeons, two claim to be sent by King George. For a while, these doctors seem to believe in the grotesque births they witnessed. It is decided to move Mary to London where she is observed day and night. The births cease, and Mary is exposed for committing a hoax. The London doctors later write claiming that they considered the whole scandal a fake all along.

Once in London, Zachary is joined by a friend who is one of the London doctor’s apprentice. Anne takes them to see the depraved side of the city life. They are shown some ghastly and sickening scenes of animal cruelty, and a riot. We read about the attitudes of the extremely rich, their gambling and fashion, the dirt and squalor of the city, the division between rich and poor, the place of woman in the home and society, the primitive state of medicine and its relation to folklore and philosophy. Emphasized is the conflict between blind faith and trust and scientific knowledge, and the tendency for some to doubt anything that the majority takes for granted.

This intriguing, well-written book immersed me in the manners, morals, superstition, attitudes, and beliefs in early 18th century England.

[Neale · Rating 4 out of 5]

Shortlisted for the 2020 Tournament of Books.

It is September 1726 and Nicholas Fox’s convoy of Medical Curiosities is rolling into the village of Godalming as the sun rises. The curtains of the coaches pulled tightly shut not allowing anybody a “free” look at the curiosities.

Zachary Walsh, 14 years old and an apprentice surgeon of four months watches the convoy from his loft window, his curiosity piqued as to what lies behind all the curtains. He is distracted by a pretty young blonde girl whose face is half covered in a port wine birthmark. The girl who is bellowing advertisements of the exhibition runs up and stops underneath Zachary’s window. She hisses at him and then laughs and runs on. Remember this girl.

Zachary had no intention of becoming a surgeon. He first met his master John Howard as a patient. Howard quickly finds that Zachary has an abscess near his tonsil. He lances it and sends Zachary home. A couple of weeks later Zachary turns up on Howards door and after listening to a few of Howard’s anecdotes, becomes excited. His fascination grows as Howard lends him medical texts and books to take home and read, Zachary is hooked. Howard makes him his apprentice.

Zachary does not try to hide his enthusiasm when Howard tells him that he will take him to the travelling exhibition. Howard declares that it is to further Zachary’s education, but this is far from the reason Zachary wants to attend.

Nicholas Fox, the owner and front man for the exhibition steps onto the stage and in a deep voice, incongruous to his tiny stature informs the full crowd that they are about to be amazed and terrified with the things they are about to witness. And the things they witness are indeed horrifying. A woman without a single bone in her body, the bearded giantess, the man whose spine protrudes through the skin of his back. And all of them have a reason for being as Nicholas Fox explains the stories of each.

As the sun falls, the last exhibit is taken away, Howard tells Zachary as they are walking home that he is sceptical as to the authenticity of most, if not all the exhibits. He then backflips telling Zachary that he believed the last exhibit, that of the two-headed woman was indeed real. Zachary is left unsure as to what to think.

On Oct 13. 1726 Howard is visited by Joshua Toft. Toft take a long time to tell his story, so I shall spare you his ramblings. His wife is ready to have a baby after only six months, Joshua is not the father and he is definitely not a cuckold, and his wife has been crying tears of blood. There short and sweet, but I am sure you will agree, most intriguing.

What follows next when Howard, Zachary and Toft get to the Toft house is quite grotesque. As you have probably read from the synopsis. Mary gives birth to a dead rabbit. Well a dead rabbit in pieces, first the paws, then a decapitated head.

In the following days, Howard and Zachary have agreed to put the whole macabre event behind them when there is a knock at the door and there is Joshua. This time he does not, mumble and waffle through his story, he tells them immediately that it’s happening again.

After the twelfth rabbit, word of Mary’s condition starts to circulate and the rumours and innuendo fly. The King sends his surgeon from London and the rumours, as well as multiplying in number, become more and more bizarre. Nathanael St. Andre claims to have been sent by the king and is the first. Cyriacus Ahlers, a German, is the second, and it’s obvious that there is animosity between the two. The third, Manningham, who checks under the bed, the pillows, searching for some deception.

It is at this stage that the young blonde girl makes an appearance again. Nicholas has some problems after visiting a brothel and needs Howard’s services. This leaves the young girl and Zachary alone. Well, this young girl is most interesting indeed, changing characters in front of Zachary’s eyes, replying to his questions with cryptic answers. When they leave, Anne, who is Nicholas’ daughter, tells Zachary to come to London and that there are still many versions of herself for her to show him and versions of himself that he hasn’t seen.

The situation with Mary is now completely out of hand with people travelling from London to get a glimpse of her, the king decrees that Mary shall be brought to London and the three surgeons, who all proclaim to have been sent by the king, Howard and the two apprentices all travel to London by stagecoach.

For Zachary, London is like another world and he has only just arrived when he receives a letter from Anne asking him to come and see her.


After many days of no new births the miracle of a woman giving birth to dead rabbits seems to lose importance and the surgeons, perhaps all along knowing, admit to themselves it’s a hoax. They now must prove it a hoax and each extricate themselves from facing embarrassment and possible ruination of careers.

Meanwhile Anne takes Zachary and Laurence, Nathanial's apprentice, on a trip to see the darker side of London. The hidden places that few know of, where as Anne says, “Everything that is not forbidden is allowed.”
This novel is based on a real case that happened, granted Dexter Palmer has taken a few liberties and lists them at the end of the novel. Where he hasn’t taken liberties, is with his writing. The writing is truly top notch, and the characters a delight to read. There is humour, and towards the end of the novel a terrible dark side. An underbelly of London that people know exists, but most never dare to go.

The novel is set in a time when religion and science were always locking horns. and this adds to the narrative. As more and more people believe the births are a message from god, they start to grow in number, some not even really knowing the full story. The very definition of blind faith. They flock to her window in a constant vigil.

I think that Dexter Palmer has crafted a wonderful fictional story here founded on the back of an historical one. An enjoyable well written novel. 4 Stars.

If you are interested there is a great article at the end of the review in which Dexter answers ten questions about this latest novel here - https://www.collinsbookblog.com/post/...

[Doug · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5, rounded down.

This historical fiction, based on the true story of a woman in 1726 who claimed to give birth to rabbits is almost too odd to be believed - but reading the Wikipedia entry on her, Palmer sticks fairly closely to the known - and fairly well-documented - facts. The thing I really enjoyed and appreciated is that the book is somewhat composed as if it had actually been written back at the time it takes place, really capturing the period.

Although my well-known aversion to animal cruelty was put to the test several times - aside from the poor rabbits involved, there is an upsetting scene involving a bull, immediately followed by an even more gruesome one involving a feline - BOTH of which I could have done without and were tangential to the central story, I could almost put those aside due to the period being so overwhelmingly brutal and savage in general.

Oddly enough, there is another new non-fiction book about the same case, The Imposteress Rabbit Breeder: Mary Toft and Eighteenth-Century England, that I am now curious to read and to compare.

[Jerrie · Rating 4 out of 5]

This fictionalization of the real case of Mary Toft was a great read for the 2020 TOB. There were a couple of places where I thought the story wandered off a bit, but overall this is a good look at the power of faith and belief to fool even ourselves. Also highlighted here is the war between science and religion at that time, as well as the state of the medical profession which was just starting to attain some real understanding of the human body.

[W.D. Clarke · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dexter Palmer does an excellent job of evoking the extremity that is Georgian London circa 1726...

...in this fine, straightforward, but unsettling and philosophically probing novel, whose principal concern seems (to this reader, at least) to be an incessant "interrogation" (as academics in the humanities were wont to say during the heyday of postmodernism) of what passes for knowledge and truth in our world.

While not strictly speaking an allegory for these times, there are moments (such as the battling factions of "Red" and "Green" who seem to be determined to fight to the death over which was the better opera singer, "Bordoni" or "Cuzzoni"—the latter...obviously!) when the author seems to be slyly winking at his American compatriots' obsession with self-identification through party politics (just substitute blue for green here!), just as Jonathan Swift lampooned the Tories and Whigs via his depiction of the Lilliputian kerfuffle over which end of an egg to break open, the big or the little. Such tendentious moments might fit well in a satirical novel, but jar a little here, and are thankfully rare.

As the novel opens, one of the two main characters, the provincial surgeon John Howard is performing his daily penance:

struggling with a particularly thorny chapter of John Locke’s An Essay Concerning Human Understanding. Like many men in England who fancied themselves of a certain class and intellectual capacity, he owned a copy; like most of those copies, the majority of the signatures in his had never been split by a blade. Sitting on his shelves, the volume had come to seem to him over the years like a fraudulent prop. It squatted there in accusation; it called him a pretender.

This novel teaches us that we are all pretenders, in a way, when we claim to have access to the univocal truth. But it also affirms Howard's instincts: it is via honest intellectual struggle that we get just a little bit closer to the truth—which is much more easily done in the realms of science and medicine (as difficult as that may be in the particular case of trying to figure out how a woman could possibly give birth to rabbits) than it is in our personal lives.

Howard's apprentice, the teenaged Zachary, is both a case in point in this regard, as well as a substitute for our naïve selves, as he brings no great intellectual baggage with him to the witnessing of the miraculous birth(s). Though a preacher's son, he is not particularly swayed by that ideological inheritance, but neither is he as certain of, or as adept in, the male ways of knowing as the men of science around him are (eventually, a total of four surgeons, two claiming to be on appointment of the King, are on the case) concerning the mystery of this woman, Mary Toft's, unruly body.

Women in the novel come off rather better than the men (worldly-wise, they are never dupes), but they are also largely Other to the male epistemology—men can exploit them, or command them, but they cannot ever truly get them. Zachary's virginal love-interest is far more street-smart (her touring Zachary around of London's netherworld is hard to stomach—particularly if, like me, you are a bit of an animal lover) and far, far less idealistic than he; John Howard's wife has no truck with his flights of fancy; and Mary Toft herself is no rube. So, the 18th century may well be a man's man's man's man's world (but that don't mean one little thing without—let's interrogate those binary oppositions, folks!—a woman's heart….

It is fitting, then, that John Howard passes on his Locke (unfinished) to Zachary at the novel's end, only to—provisionally—take up a more "feminine" way of knowing, via story-telling, borrowing his wife's copy of Moll Flanders and getting hooked by it in spite of himself. He had scoffed at a female reader of that book earlier on, but his experience with the case of Mary Toft has humbled him, and his sphere of imaginative sympathies has become larger: he is now a ripe candidate for (in 1726 that truly nascent form) the novel, which promises, in exchange for a willing suspension of disbelief on the part of the reader, certain transport, if not truth.

And what of truth, then? In the end, there is another admittedly tendentious little tidbit that I rather liked (and concerning which the more scholarly among us might suggest as originating in the work of Richard Rorty—I couldn't possibly say):

“I will grant you this one concession,” said Lord P——. “Any reasonable man would admit that we have no way of perceiving truth other than our eyes and ears and memories and instincts. And so the truth must, in the end, be a matter of consensus. By the time you arrived, the three surgeons had already formed that consensus, which even your title did not equip you to dispute. Just as the surgeon who took on the case before you would have found himself arrayed against two more of his profession."
[…]
“Recall your Locke,” Manningham said. “If a statement be not self-evident, there must be proof. We have, all four of us, delivered rabbits, or rabbit parts, from Toft with our own hands. But the evidence of our experience is limited—the inner workings of her body are a mystery to us, as is testified to by the competing hypotheses about Toft’s condition. Is this the work of God, or is it caused by some other physical abnormality, or are both of these the case? We cannot say conclusively.”

Truth, however provisional, politically-motivated, approximate, and consensual, still awaits these men, "at the end of inquiry" (as another, earlier pragmatist once said)—whenever that is. Sure, the Enlightenment dispelled much darkness. But that was just the start. Much darkness and perversion remained on the streets of London, and remains. And the Enlightenment is born of a piece with finance capitalism and racism—the Bank of England, founded just 30 years earlier, witnessed a spectacular crash after the South Sea Bubble burst in 1720, but that doesn't make much of an impact on the well-to-do in this novel, who rapaciously seek out ever more degrading entertainments, and who regale each other in a Coffee-House called The Blackamoor cos, don't you know, there are so few people of colour in London that they are more than exotic—they're very good for business.

Locke himself (d.1704) who was on the Board of Directors of a slaveholding company, wrote this in his classic defense of liberty, The Second Treatise on Government:

Thus the grass my horse has bit; the turfs my servant has cut; and the ore I have digged in any place, where I have a right to them in common with others, become my property, without the assignation or consent of any body. The labour that was mine, removing them out of that common state they were in, hath fixed my property in them.

This humble servant begs Mr. Locke's "property" to do what it will with me, but to leave the horse alone, and maybe persuade its Master to put down his Locke, and take up Moll Flanders. Or Mary Toft, Rabbit Queen

*Image = Hogarth, 1726, Mary Toft Apparently Giving Birth to Rabbits Wikiart.org

[Nadine in California · Rating 5 out of 5]

It took only a few pages for me to realize that this is historical fiction done right - pacing, characters, setting, plot, writing - all working in perfect concert. But it gradually became so much more as it asked so many 'why' questions of its characters and of the reader. As the characters wrestled with the meaning of belief and truth in their world, I wrestled with the same question in mine. I didn't expect this book to speak so powerfully to the political madness of Trump's America. I can't wait to see what Palmer writes next.

[Jan · Rating 5 out of 5]

From the 2020 Tournament of Books, a satisfying read that uses the true story of an 18th century woman who supposedly gave birth to rabbits, to examine themes of belief, delusion and the psychology of crowds. Be warned that there’s one scene of animal cruelty that’s not gratuitous but is nonetheless disturbing.

[Betsy Robinson · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a terrific book. Just what I was in the mood for—a good story about a woman who gives birth to rabbits, really well written, that moves at a leisurely pace to make it last, but most important, it is about something. Something big—crowd-think, group-think, whether truth is in our heads or inserted there by mass perception, crowd pressure and movement, and our fierce need to be right; it is about class and humanity, and not only is it well written but incredibly smart, wise, and knowing. This is everything I crave in a book.

It takes place in 1726 England, but there is something timeless about the characters and the author’s point of view about them and their situation. It builds slowly to a level of brutality I was not prepared for and when I hit it, I found myself skimming so as to avoid letting it inside. Nevertheless it got inside and it made its point. We are a brutal, fickle species, and this is a book that makes you see it.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Intriguing. Entertaining. Original. This novel is a colorful romp, but also a fairly earnest story of the search for authenticity, substance, and meaning in the lives of its characters. Overall I really enjoyed the ride.

Dexter Palmer takes the fanciful-historic occurence of a woman reputed to have given birth to rabbits and uses it as the basis for an exploration of far more serious matters. He considers the philisophical ideals of Renaissance Humanism and that movement's own birthing of The Enlightenment. Most of the intellectual and moral dichotomies which drove the 18th century "world of ideas" are touched upon:

Truth versus Fiction
Honesty v. Duplicity
Appearance v. Reality
Science v. Faith
Education v. Ignorance
Pride v. Humility

The discussions of Jews and Blacks, and the social positions held by them in 1726 London, seemed heavy-handed; exposition thinly disguised as (in this case) barroom banter. The same was true regarding expressed opinions about the roles of women in Georgian society; a very modern sensibility is shoehorned into multiple dinner-table conversations. Likewise, the championing of reproductive rights and women's self-determination gets a high-wattage spotlight treatment, presented here in the form of a midnight confession by a country doctor to his incapacitated patient. I understand why Palmer chose to incorporate liberal ideals in this manner, I just thought it was obvious and, therefore, awkward and less convincing than it otherwise could have been.

All in all, though, definitely worth the time. Let's give another appreciative nod to the Tournament of Books and its promotion of new and interesting fiction!

One row of four stars...

[Carmel Hanes · Rating 4 out of 5]

“The truth of the matter. Is it a thing that exists outside of our minds, waiting for us to perceive it and know it as true? Or is truth a thing that collectively resides within the minds of all men, a matter of consensus, subject to debate, subject to alteration? The world outside our minds neither true nor false, but merely there?”

These few sentences capture the essence of this odd novel, which in turn captures an even more odd (grotesque?) true event. I often scratch my head in trying to understand all the bizarre ways people can go astray, but this tale might top them all. That said, the tale is only the branch upon which fascinating philosophical ponderings are hung.

On one level, it's a story about a woman who seems to be inexplicably giving birth to rabbits, or, more precisely, rabbit parts, confounding the local doctor and religious leader (and later, additional learned experts). But as the story progresses, it exposes the nature of gossip, innuendo, belief and disbelief, "group-think", truth, dishonesty, motivation, manipulation, spiritual and psychological thinking, religious versus scientific doctrine, and so much more.

"At times, it seemed to Zachary as if his father’s God was constituted entirely of the commands that he had given, or that he had created humans solely in order to give himself beings over which he could exercise control."

"John seemed surprisingly comfortable with not knowing, in a way that Zachary’s father did not; John seemed paradoxically secure in his uncertainty, while his father would have seen the display of such uncertainty as a sign of weakness, an absence of faith."

"For those who observed it from a distance, the Toft case acted as a kind of vortex that drew facts and falsehoods into it and stirred them together, so that all things were true and none were true. And if considering the case might give one the feeling that the ground was unsteady beneath one’s feet, that the world was filled with fog, then it also challenged one’s long-held preconceptions of the world’s true nature, and opened one’s mind up to myriad possibilities previously left unconsidered. For this reason—some might have said, if asked—it was wonderful."

This was a dissertation on human foibles and trials, disguised as a nonsensical story, all the more fascinating because of all the elements of truth embedded within it. There is a misstatement I quote often that basically says "I'll see it when I believe it." This story seems to live and breathe that statement.

"I sometimes consider that the only difference between a hoax and an article of faith is the number of people who profess belief in it."

A fascinating read you might want to bring a shovel and jackhammer to in order to most appreciate it. The underlying musings are as applicable today as the time frame represented in the novel. Truly, since the beginning of time.

[Dianah (onourpath) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Dexter Palmer digs up an old gem of a story from 1700s England and puts his particular touch to this tale based on the real life account of Mary Toft, a wife and field laborer who appeared to give birth to several dead rabbits. Doctors of the era were at first horrified and confused, then wondered if they were witness to a miracle, then later, despite actually delivering rabbit parts from Toft, were doubtful and suspicious. They called in more doctors and Lords and Dukes and the King was even involved. Palmer fleshes out this story with characters that are caught in something much larger than themselves -- a real moral dilemma facing these early physicians. When it appears that careers may be destroyed and lives imploded, they are frantic to find out the truth. Palmer flexes some serious historical fiction writing chops here; exploring themes of unexplained phenomena, the pressures of public opinion, the split and intermingling of religion and science, the egregious appetite for the public display of deformity and misery, the ever present affects of class and income inequality, and the biggest question out there -- what is human? Do not miss this fascinating story.

[Emma · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was fun! A wide range of well drawn characters, the woman who gave birth to rabbits, a bunch of opportunistic and gimic seeking visitors competing for the kudos of the discovery, the power of group-think and the willingness to suspend logic and sense and be bespelled by a good narrative, all this makes for a great story. John and Zachary were likeable and I was sympathetic to them. Many thanks to Netgalley for an arc of this book.

[Rhiannon Johnson · Rating 5 out of 5]

*I received a copy of this novel from the publisher in exchange for an honest review.*
Please visit my blog for this review: https://ivoryowlreviews.blogspot.com/...

I am always looking to read something that is a little quirky, a little left of center, or weird enough that it probably won't flood the Bookstagram feed. When I read the summary of Mary Toft, or the Rabbit Queen, I thought "ding ding ding...we have a winner." A woman giving birth to dead rabbits? Yep, that's my kind of weird. Upon further research I found out that this a historical fiction novel based on real events! Needless to say I couldn't wait to get my hands on it! While the main storyline of this novel is about a woman giving birth to rabbits, the story really revolves around everyone else involved. As the story of Mary's births spreads throughout her small town and then to nearby London, more people are drawn into her circle. Characters in this novel range from a small town surgeon and his apprentice to a traveling team of performers in an "Exhibition of Medical Curiosities" to a variety of King George's agents. Their interactions show their class differences, pride, and cunning and the jabs, barbs, and stories they tell are so subtly snarky that I was laughing quite a bit. Another great layer to this novel was the vocabulary. I loved reading this on my Kindle so I could look all the words up with a touch. I loved this novel but I wouldn't recommend it to everyone.

[MaryannC Victorian Dreamer · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this slightly macabre story based on a real case, fascinating and well written, love the era of the story. Think the cover is pretty cool too but don't stare at it too long :)

[Josh · Rating 3 out of 5]

(3.5) This was a case of 'What an interesting book cover, let's check this out!' and what an interesting book this was. Mary Toft; or, The Rabbit Queen is a historical fiction account of how a woman and her husband bamboozled the King of England, a number of medical professionals and countless laypersons Anno Domini 1726.

Dexter Palmer's prose was satisfactory and kept me engrossed in this ridiculous story that funnily enough actually happened.

When it comes to historical fiction, there's a fine line between what can be good as a novel and what should not be written and this was on the good side. I had never heard of this before, but Palmer made me read even further into it.

While Palmer stays true to this story, I feel that buried underneath is a tale of humanity and how gullible we've been throughout millennia and how we still are in some regards. Many of us abandon Occam's Razor sometimes, even when logic tells us different. Perhaps that's the story of humanity: Preach the gospel to many and that person will rule the world.

[Will · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5

[Janet · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a fascinating bit of historical fiction based on true events in 18th century England. Surgeon and male mid-wife John Howard has a patient who starts to birth rabbits. If you just did a double take then you understand why I had to read this book.

This anomaly, for want of a better word, attracts the attention of King George III and the woman is moved to London for closer observation. A lot of the impressions are told through the eyes of young Zachary Walsh who is apprentice to John Howard….no medical school in those days. Walsh’s father Crispin (don’t you just love that name?) is a minister and so the stage is set for the classic clash of science vs. religion.

Lest we think we are now in unique times, there is some rumination about the nature of truth and how resentment of the elite can cause the proletariat to dig in their heels and insist that black is white. Does truth exist if the majority of the people disdain it? Fascinating stuff this.

I enjoyed Dexter Palmer’s Version Control but I think Mary Toft cements his place as a serious novelist. He is going some places where other writers have not tread. This is a book I would never have found were it not for the Tournament of Books.

[Jolanta (knygupė) · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.9*


Mary Toft (1703-1763), tikrai gyvenusi Anglijoje (Godalming miestelyje), paprasta tarnaitė, ūkininko žmona sugebėjo apkvailinti gydytojus tuo, kad ji gali gimdyti...triušius.  Jie gimsta negyvi, ar ji išgimdo tik atskiras jų kūnų dalis...Ir kaip tai ja patikima...Rimtai. Susidomi net pats karalius George I, ji išvežama į Londona stebėjimui...

Štai ši tikrai nutikusi neeilinė istorinė apgaulė,  vykusi 1726-iais, puikiai pasitarnavo autoriui kaip fonas leistis daug giliau ir į šiandien mums aktualias temas. Minios psichologija, manipuliacijos, priežastys įtikėti  absurdiškais dalykais, prietarai, religijos/tikėjimai...Pasirodo, kad neįmanobybė taptų įmanomybe tereikia daugumos nuomonės, ar autoriteto, ar nors tik tau vienam svarbaus asmens nuomonės...ir tu jau suabejoji...

Na, labai jau autoriui pavyko šis sumanymas. Pati istorija jau savaime įdomi ir buvo ne kartą garsinta pamfletuose (neužilgo po šio nutikimo/reiškinio) ir šiuolaikinėse negrožinėse knygose. O štai Dexter'is ją dar ir labai sumaniai panaudojo romane.

[Nancy Oakes · Rating 5 out of 5]

like a 4.5

another vacation read; this one was absolutely delightful with a few rather dark and twisted moments. More to come about this book, because it really does deserve my full attention when it comes to posting. The author is a genius -- thank you, sir!!

[Fiona · Rating 3 out of 5]

I wanted to enjoy this book more than I did. Knowing that it’s based on a true story, I’d now like to read a non fictionalised account as the subject is intriguing and I didn’t know about it before. There’s no doubt this book is well researched but it felt didactic in places. Several chapters were only there to demonstrate the author’s knowledge of historical background rather than to progress the storyline. Initially, I assumed the author was English but quickly realised he isn’t due to his use of American terminology such as broiled instead of grilled. I’m sure this is a great read if you enjoy the author’s style but, sadly, it’s just not for me. DNF.

[Alan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dexter Palmer's second novel, Version Control, absolutely blew me away when I read it back in March 2016. I called that one "the best book I've read all year," and it remained extremely high on that list as the year went on.

Palmer's much-anticipated third effort goes in a very different direction... and while I didn't enjoy Mary Toft; or, The Rabbit Queen quite as much as its predecessor, I really like the way Palmer is experimenting and stretching himself with each new book. I've mentioned many times in other reviews how much I detest "seriesitis," that regrettable urge to revisit a setting over and over until every vestige of originality has been milked out of it. Palmer shows no signs of succumbing to that malady, and for this I am grateful.

This is pretty much all I knew about Mary Toft going in—from the front cover flap:

In 1726, in the town of Godalming, England, a woman confounded the nation's medical community by giving birth to seventeen rabbits. This astonishing true story is the basis for Dexter Palmer's stunning, powerfully evocative new novel.

I couldn't possibly reject an invitation like that...

We don't meet Mary Toft herself for awhile, though. Chapter 1 of Mary Toft; or, The Rabbit Queen focuses on a different set of marvels, Nicholas Fox's Exhibition of Medical Curiosities, as it passes through Godalming. The curiosities in question are human (well, mostly) and would later on, in the U.S., most likely have become part of a circus. In 18th-century England, these people—a "bearded giantess," a two-headed woman, and the like—are the whole show. The good people of Godalming consider them monsters, to be wondered at but never treated with empathy (although Palmer makes it clear that he, and we, know better). And, according to Fox, these Curiosities carry a moral message for the people of Godalming—one that primes the pump, as it were, for Mary Toft's own prodigies.

The Tofts themselves—Mary and her husband Joshua—don't appear until p.30. It's a slow reveal—another carny trick, perhaps—that lets us get used to a milieu in which the notion that a woman could give birth to rabbits, not just once, but more than a dozen times, actually seems like the most reasonable explanation for events.

Do not think you know how this story's going to go, though—in Palmer's hands, even the familiar tale-within-a-tale of the Emperor's New Clothes veers from its traditional form.

*

The language Dexter Palmer employs throughout Mary Toft is stiff and ornate, evoking the era without sacrificing readability—as in this example:

There is no rarer and more precious comfort than this: when a man who is the sole possessor of a truth, and who feels himself misunderstood by all the world, looks into another man's eyes and finds, at last, that another believes what he believes, and he is no longer alone.
—p.96

The word Baroque might even apply.

And while I have to wonder what a female writer would have done with this material, I do think that Palmer does a pretty good job with his female characters. In particular, pay close attention to Alice Howard, the surgeon John Howard's acerbic spouse; she gets some of the best lines in Mary Toft.

*

As many have observed, myself included, human beings seem to be at their most inventive when coming up with new torments for others. It is a principle not just of English law (see Chapter XXII) but, perhaps, of natural law.

However, Palmer's novel is not a catalog of torture, nor a mere parade of grotesqueries; he's exploring some much deeper topics here. If I had to try to pin down the primary theme of Mary Toft; or, The Rabbit Queen, I'd say it's about what we believe—the things we most desperately want to believe—and how, even though acting as if something were true won't truly make it so, behaving that way certainly has an effect on the truth.

Dexter Palmer captured my attention right out of the gate with his first novel, The Dream of Perpetual Motion, back in 2010. He's now three-for-three for me, and I find myself eagerly looking forward to his fourth—wherever that might lead.

[Patty · Rating 5 out of 5]

”Do you know what carrying a child inside you does to your idea of space, of what you own? Even the poorest man takes for granted that he holds clear title to the space inside his skin. Oh, but ask a man about a woman, and he’ll tell you that her body is so very different from his, that it holds empty space that stretch and hold mysteries, that measure time with strange and bloody clocks --- whose empty space are those? Who holds their precious title?

Every year I thank the Tournament of Books (ToB) for introducing me to wonderful novels. This is my sixth ToB contender for 2020 and I could stop now. I could stop because I have found my favorite book for this year. Hopefully, there are more good reads to come, but this one is wonderful.

Palmer has used a historical event and retold it. In October,1726, in Godalming, England, Mary Toft gave birth to rabbits, or so it was believed. This is a true medical hoax. I can’t imagine that anyone could be convinced that a woman would birth anything besides human babies, but this true event is the root of Palmer’s novel.

What Palmer does with is what reminded me of the many reasons that I like historical fiction. It is a simple story, but Palmer looks back through modern eyes and helps us to see layers that may not have mattered to the protagonists. He takes an old story and gives us new things to consider.

Palmer introduces us to Dr. John Howard, who was Toft’s physician, and Palmer gives Howard life – he made him a fully rounded character. Palmer does the same thing with many other characters, some real and some invented. By giving these actors bodies and souls, the fictional story becomes possible and tell us some true things about human nature that transcends both the past and present.

I enjoy reading about people and learning about their world. That is part of the reason I read. I cannot time travel to 1726, but Palmer can take me there – and it was a wonderful, weird trip. I had a great time and met some interesting people. Meeting Mary Toft, John Howard and others was a lot of fun. I look forward to the discussions that come out of the ToB.

[Alison Hardtmann · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Consider," Fox said, "the woman with child who reads. Who seeks to occupy her mind with matters of art and science at a time when she is intended to to embrace the role assigned to her by God, that of a wife, and of a mother. Who spends her days in the company of imaginary folk such as Moll Flanders and Roxana the Fortunate Mistress, while her belly swells and her needle goes neglected. Who fails to meditate on her responsibility to the new life that grows inside her. Such a woman's thought is torn in two directions--is it no surprise that if she were to give birth to a child in such an afflicted state of mind, that it would assume the most hideous of manifestations?"

"Behold," Fox said, "the woman with two heads."

This is the story of the extraordinary story of Mary Toft, a woman in Godalming, England who, in the early eighteenth century, gave birth to rabbits. Told from the point of view of the local surgeon and man-midwife's apprentice, the story begins with a traveling "Exhibition of Medical Curiosities" that comes to town and amazes Zachary, even as his father, the local clergyman and John Howard, the local doctor, differ in what they find extraordinary about the spectacle. Soon after, John Howard and Zachary are called to assist a woman in labor. The woman, Mary Toft, gives birth to pieces of rabbit. She will continue to give birth to rabbit parts a few times a week and it isn't long before people from London become involved, and things become ever more confusing and complicated.

Dexter Palmer's novel is a wonderfully written historical novel that subtly explores ideas about perception and truth, while delivering a hugely enjoyable look at England in the eighteenth century. I especially liked how Palmer explored how women were thought of and treated and how that affected them. These themes never get in the way of what is an entertaining story and they remain on my mind days after finishing. Palmer's previous novel was set in the near future and explored concepts arising from time travel. It seems that he is an author who can tackle any genre successfully. I'm now hugely curious as to what his next novel will be.

And I will tell you this about God--that despite his presumed omnipresence he often arrives in the company of men; that men fear to interpret the world on their own authority when they are aware of his presence, because his senses are complete and perfect and his experiences are unlimited; that the standards for proof are much higher when God is involved, especially proof of life, or of what goes on inside a woman's body; that weighed against God's displeasure, or against a man's feeling that God is displeased by his actions, the life of one woman is no great thing.

[Paul Dembina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Based on the true story of a hoax perpetrated in the early 18th century this novel has some relevance today by commenting on society's willingness to believe in fake news.
It's also a fun read

[Ruthiella · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Perhaps they could sense that, in a room within the bagnio, the fabric of reality was slowly turning from cloth to lace, and so they found themselves drawn to a place where the truth was mutable; where, if you pushed at the facts, they would kindly move aside for you instead of pushing back”.

The more history and historical fiction I read, the more I am convinced that nothing really ever changes in human history. In Mary Toft, Dexter Palmer takes a real event from the 18th century and retells it in a manner that made me think very much about our current post-truth, alternative facts, fake news era.

The story begins with Zachary Walsh, who at 14 has just become an apprentice to Dr. John Howard, a local doctor in a small town somewhere in the countryside of Georgian England. A few days after Zachary and the doctor visit a traveling freak show, they are called in to attend on a local woman, Mary Toft, whose husband claims she has given birth to rabbits. At first glance, both Howard and Zachary believe in the phenomena. Feeling out of his depth, Dr. Howard invites the preeminent surgeons in London to consult with him. Then the press takes up the story and soon all parties find themselves in London at the behest of the king himself to investigate the truth of the matter.

This was my first official 2020 TOB shortlist read. Parts of the book might seem slightly anachronistic (though the research is given at the end and it is impressive!) but on the whole this only served to make an already weird story feel that much weirder.

[Matt · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mary Toft--wife, mother, field laborer, commoner--gives birth to a rabbit. It's 1726 in the village of Godalming, England. From this small historical curio, Dexter Palmer spins the dark, piercing and engrossing novel Mary Toft, or the Rabbit Queen. While historical(-based) fiction often operates by pulling past events into the value framework of contemporary readers, in Mary Toft, Palmer places the reader firmly into a variety of value frameworks in place in 1726 England. This subtlety uncommon approach fuels a singularly fresh interrogation of the sacrosanct tenets of post-Enlightenment Western culture. What is man's fundamental nature? Is faith--of any sort--actually the socially-sanctioned face of human greed? Mary Toft, or the Rabbit Queen, asks Big Questions even as it sweeps you along with charm, humor, mystery and surprise. Its a novel you won't want to put down and won't be able to stop thinking about.

[Ed Erwin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Extraordinary evidence requires extraordinary claims.

It seems almost beyond belief that in 1726 when rabbit parts are pulled out of a woman's body, educated men including doctors and priests were willing to believe, or at least strongly suspect, that her body was generating them. Because, you know, women are mysterious. But then I look around at what people are willing to believe right now, and hang my head in despair.

Anyway, this is an interesting fictionalized version of an odd event.

[Matthew · Rating 5 out of 5]

Historical fiction at its best. Sharp, witty, and well researched without being showy about it. I really enjoyed Palmer's previous novel, Version Control, and this book was even better. I'm down for whatever he decides to write next.