If I only read one book this fall, I decided months ago, it would have to be The Distant Hours by Kate Morton. Kate Morton’s debut novel, The House of Riverton, held me so spellbound that as soon as I finished it, I read it again. Despite the fact that The House of Riverton left me emotionally drained, I eagerly pre-ordered her next novel, The Forgotten Garden, and devoured it in one sitting, heedless of the late hour and lack of sleep, when it finally came. I'm glad to report that her third effort, The Distant Hours, was just as compulsively readable and captivating as the first two.
Everything I loved in The House at Riverton and The Forgotten Garden, and have come to expect from Kate Morton, is in The Distant Hours.
First, there's always a mystery that unfolds in lush, gothic detail, usually in a bygone era. Here, a letter sent during World War II arrives 50 years later. Like a siren call from the past, Edie is compelled to find Milderhurst Castle and discover the fate of the Sisters Blythe, Juniper, Persephone, and Seraphina. Aristocratic beauties in their day, what has happened to the Sisters Blythe over the years and what precipitated their tragic decay reminds me a bit of Grey Gardens mixed with We Have Always Lived at the Castle. So lovely and promising in their youth, they are now old women who never escaped the mouldy castle of their forebears, their dreams strangled by a mysterious tragedy 50 years before.
“Have you ever wondered what the stretch of time smells like? I can’t say I had, not before I set foot inside Milderhurst Castle, but I certainly know now. Mould and ammonia, a pinch of lavender and a fair whack of dust, the mass disintergration of very old sheets of paper. And there’s something else too, something underlying it all, something verging on rotten or stewed but not. It took me a while to work out what that smell was, but I think I know now. It’s the past. Thoughts and dreams, hopes and hurts, all brewed together, shifting in the stagnant air, unable to dissipate completely.”
The long shadows cast by their controlling father, a celebrated novelist, and his most famous work, The True History of the Mud Man, over their lives has something to do with why the Sisters Blythe have never left the castle. Morton, as usual, is adept at weaving subtle strands and hints so that even as the reader uncovers more and more of the mystery, the final reveal is devastating and unexpected. Hint - within the short, haunting excerpt from the Mud Man tale in the beginning of the book are symbolic clues as to the dark history and future of the Sisters Blythe.
Love affairs cut tragically short; age-old secrets waiting to be discovered; suspenseful, atmospheric setting; and writing that left me breathless - The Distant Hours enthralled me to the very end.