The Paris Express, by Emma Donoghue

In late 19th century France a train travels from the Brittany coast to Montparnasse. It is crowded with a diverse passenger list across first, second and third classes – women, men and children; politicians, artists, scientists, students, captains of industry and workers of all stripes. The n there is the train crew, working hard to meet their timetable and the unreasonable expectations of their employer. An anarchist is also aboard, zealous in her aim to literally derail the capitalist overlords of France and the world. Donoghue provides a snapshot of everyone’s journey, on the train and in life, at times in rather too much detail. She cleverly builds suspense as the reader gets to know the potential victims of an inevitable tragedy and wonders who might survive. Based on a true event, the author blends the stories of real people who were actually on the train, with some contemporary celebrities who were in the vicinity at the time and could have been there, and some entirely fictional passengers.

The Bookbinder of Jericho, by Pip Williams

A companion tale to the Dictionary of Lost Words, set in the same world but a little later, this story again focuses on the frustrations of smart women denied opportunities. Peggy and her twin Maud live on a riverboat in the Oxford district of Jericho and work in the bookbinding section of Oxford University Press. Peggy is hungry for books and all they offer but feels she must look out for her sister, who is neurodivergent and potentially vulnerable. The outbreak of WWI sees new possibilities for both sisters as refugees and soldiers flood the town. But will Peggy have the courage to pursue her ambitions and can she allow her sister the independence she needs to grow? The novel provides an interesting picture of the home front of WWI from the perspective of working class women. Williams has clearly done the research and unfortunately overshares the results in places, where the intricate technicalities of bookbinding can drag on. But it is enjoyable to follow Peggy and Maude strive to overcome the obstacles of class and gender and make some devastating choices between heart and head.

Lessons in Chemistry, by Bonnie Garmus

Elizabeth Zott is a woman ahead of her time. As a scientist in the 1950s, her career is stymied by rampant sexism and by her freethinking, no-nonsense persona. Passionate about chemistry, Elizabeth is also a fabulous cook and she combines these two strengths to become a pioneer in television food programming. A terrible childhood, assault, discrimination, losing the love of her life and single motherhood in the 1950s – nothing can derail indomitable Elizabeth. With the support of a few loyal friends, including a remarkable dog, and her small daughter, she cannot but triumph. Written in a tongue-in-cheek style that belies its serious themes, this is a thoroughly entertaining and satisfying read. The devastatingly honest heroine both learns and teaches that you can create your own family on your own terms. A worthwhile lesson in more than chemistry.

Great Circle, by Maggie Shipstead

Marian Graves was a pilot, who disappeared in 1950 with her navigator when attempting a circumnavigation of the globe via both poles. Hadley Baxter is a young actress playing Marian in biopic many years later. Marian and her twin brother Jamie were raised by their uncle in rural Montana. Her story is told in a series of time and place-stamped short pieces, starting with the lives of her mentally unwell mother and oddball ship captain father. Orphaned as a toddler by a plane crash and also raised by her uncle, Hollywood brat Hadley tells her own tale of discovering Marian’s true story while playing her. The novel also contains potted histories of many intrepid female (and some male) aviators, which borders on the didactic but provides an interesting backdrop and context, especially the WWII pilots. At almost 600 pages this is not a quick read, but it is an absorbing tale that holds attention and takes a rather different direction just when it seems to be getting predictable. The author says this was cut down from an unwieldy 1000 pages, which may explain why Hadley’s story is left hanging. This makes her a vessel to advance Marian’s story, rather than a fully-rounded character in her own right, which is a little disappointing. Ultimately the tale celebrates love on its own terms and female achievement when up against incredible hardship and obstacles.

The Dictionary of Lost Words, by Pip Williams

Esme has been brought up in the scriptorium – the engine room of the new Oxford English Dictionary, where her kindly father is a senior editor. The huge undertaking is well behind deadline, taking decades to complete. Immersed in a world of words, Esme aspires to her father’s role, even though she is a girl. As she and the dictionary grow she starts to realise that the age, class and gender of the editors determine the words and definitions that are included or omitted. Influenced by the developing suffragist movement and a sense of justice, Esme collects many of the ‘lost’ words and secrets them away. Esme’s story is punctuated by social change at the turn of the 20th century and the First World War. Even though written in the first person, she remains a slightly shadowy personality, almost peripheral to the dictionary and events. This may be because she is one of the few fictional characters, so she exists as a vehicle for ideas and a representation of women overlooked. The book provides a clear and compelling illustration of how a dominant culture excludes and divides, in the process losing of a richness of thoughts and ideas and contributing to the misery and subjugation of ‘others’.

The Mirror and the Light, by Hilary Mantel

It has been a while since the second novel of this Thomas Cromwell trilogy was published and it takes a bit of effort to get back into to Mantel’s unusual style.
It can be difficult sometimes to work out who is speaking, compounded by extended passages of Cromwell’s thoughts, memories and even dreams.
It begins immediately after Bring Out the Bodies finishes, in the aftermath of Anne Boleyn’s execution and the instant marriage of King Henry VIII to Jane Seymour.
The almost 900 pages of dense, 16th century politics is surprisingly easy to read once you get into the rhythm of it.
Cromwell is a fascinating character. Was he an avaricious schemer and social climber? A religious and social reformer? A power-hungry manipulator? Possibly all of the above.
Revenge appears to have been his great motivator; he was a loyal friend; a great mentor to young men; kind to children and a collector of enemies.
Mantel transports readers into the heart and mind of the 16th century’s most astute politician, until he wasn’t.
Class was to be Cromwell’s downfall; even those who greatly benefitted from his policies resented his extraordinary social mobility and worked actively to undermine him.
The second half of the book flags a little, with rather too many lingering memories that add little to the illumination of Cromwell’s character or the steps that lead to his downfall. This may be because they unnecessarily elongate the path to the inevitable.
Mantel paints a picture of Cromwell as a true renaissance man, ahead of his time in many ways that became his undoing. As such he elicits sympathy, despite his many faults, not least for surviving and thriving for 10 years in the service of a most capricious king.

City of Girls, by Elizabeth Gilbert

Writing a memoir for Angela, the daughter of a man once in her life, Vivian Morris looks back to herself at 19 and her arrival in 1940s New York. After bombing out of college Vivian’s straight-laced parents send her to her aunt Peg, who runs a seedy theatre. A talented seamstress, Vivian finds her niche creating theatrical costumes. She makes friends, discovers sex and alcohol and generally has a ball until it all comes crashing down when she makes a very bad mistake. Occasional reminders that this is all a story told to the mysterious Angela are deliberately inserted into the narrative at various points, although the answers she wants are a long time coming. Two-thirds of the book is devoted to the roaring 40s, Vivian’s awakening and maturing during the war years. There is little hint throughout this section of the answer to Angela’s question – who were you to my father? Nor indeed is it indicated who he is, despite Vivian’s promise to tell what he was to her. This makes the device of Angela as audience rather a long tease. Vivian fast-forwards through the next 20 years of her life and we finally learn the identity of Angela’s father towards the end of the book. It is not a total surprise, but the nature of their relationship is. Gilbert’s writing is clear, warm and engaging, her characters lively and appealing. The novel is ultimately a testament to friendship, celebrating all kinds of love and the benefits of finding your tribe and creating the family you need.