This novel starts well with its build-up to events on Midsummer’s Eve, and the conflict that takes place on the dreaded night itself, plus the aftermath, but once the setting changes from Cornwall to Australia, I grew bored fast.
The Australian section often reads like non-fiction travel writing, which is fine if you don’t mind such digressions, but I’d rather stick to the story. Some scenes are good, though, but at one point the author ruins the suspense with this line:
> I had no idea when I awoke that morning that this was to be one of the strangest and most tragic days of my life.<
While lines of this type might make for good novel openers, they usually fall flat when inserted halfway through a story. I predicted at once what would happen because of events mentioned prior to this, so when the revelation came, it was devoid of surprise because of the line quoted above.
Much of what happens is predictable. Only once or twice was I surprised when something “unexpected” occurs.
Like the previous three books in the series, we have a plodding narrative with little action and lots of repetition. The repetition in this case occurs between Annora – the narrator – and her frequent references to the tragic episode on Midsummer’s Eve. More specifically, she harps on and on about her disappointment in Rolf – her childhood hero – who she believes led the mob in the tragedy.
This hang-up about Rolf being the leader dressed in a habit with his face hidden by the hood obsesses her. She’s sure it’s him, despite not seeing the man’s face. This theme, plus others like it, is annoying when the reader can work out what the heroine can’t.
The Annora and Rolf relationship is also weird in that when Annora's eight, the older Rolf is impatient for her to grow up. It's not the first novel I've read by this author where a grown man has romantic feelings for a child. Writing as Jean Plaidy, for example, this author has a grown male character in "The Red Cloak" falling for a seven-year-old, whom he feels is older than her years, and he wants to marry her when she's of age. It's not so blatant as that in this novel, but it's still creepy in this context that an adult would want a child to grow up faster.
This author, including her works as Victoria Holt, has a tendency to have her heroines refer to one of the male characters by both names, which really irritates me. This novel has several male characters referred to by both names, including John Milward, Matthew Hume, Gregory Donnelly, and particularly Joe Cresswell. The quote below is taken from one page in my PDF document:
> Joe Cresswell said: “I’ve something to tell you<
> Joe Cresswell turned to me<
> “I think,” said Joe Cresswell<
>Joe Cresswell asked me how long I was staying. <
>Peterkin and Joe Cresswell exchanged smiles. I liked Joe Cresswell; he was very relaxed.<
This type of thing might not bother some people, but it grates on my nerves. The fourth line also highlights another of this author's trait, namely the overuse of reported speech. Reported speech is passive. Why not make it active by changing it to dialogue?
Regarding dialogue, however, at times several characters are speaking together, which becomes confusing when the dialogue attribution is tagged on at the end. I reached the stage where I had to check the end of the line first to see who’s speaking. Otherwise, you read a line thinking it’s the character who spoke before the previous one, only to sometimes find out it isn’t.
Below is an example of a confusing dialogue exchange:
>“Oh dear,” said my mother.
“Matthew can take care of her,” put in Jacco. “After all, that’s his job now.”
“She’s nervous still. She clings in spite of everything.”
My mother said: “I think Annora had better stay here<
Because Annora’s mother speaks the first line, I assumed she spoke the third line, which has no dialogue attribution; however, the fourth line is attributed to her mother. This means the reader has to stop and readjust what they’ve just read. Not good. The author should always ensure the reader knows who’s speaking sooner rather than later to avoid this type of ambiguity.
As for the characters themselves, I feel that this is the weakest cast in the series so far. The kitchen servants at Cador are quite entertaining. Peter Hanson is colourful, and I rate Diggory as the most interesting character, but that’s about it.
In short, I consider “Midsummer’s Eve” the least impressive of Books 1–13 in the Daughters of England series. [I've since read Book 14, which I rate even lower than this one!]