Between a Wolf and a Dog, by Georgia Blain

What does the title mean? The obscure metaphor initially seems to refer to the unloved family pooch, but he quickly disappears from the narrative, making it difficult to see the point of him at all. Is it the wild wolf of creativity versus the dog of domestic reality? Is it as base as sister beast versus sister bitch? It never becomes apparent. Sisters Ester and April are estranged, largely because of Ester’s ex-husband, perpetual man-child Lawrence. Their mother Hilary lays an enormous responsibility on him, which she hopes will trigger forgiveness and reconciliation, and he rises to the occasion in an unlikely denouement. The writing is clear and beautiful, the story less so. Despite her distractingly annoying missing H, Ester is the most believable and relatable character. Her motivations, behaviours and reactions strike a chord of recognition. By contrast, April and Lawrence are unconvincing and Hilary is a little insubstantial. The result is a novel of style and promise that does not quite deliver on substance. It is nevertheless a great pity it will be Blain’s last novel as she sadly died last week, at the age of 51.

The Theoretical Foot, by MFK Fisher

Renowned as a food writer, who also wrote autobiographically, MFK Fisher’s only novel was published long after her death, which begs the question did she want it published at all? It’s an odd book, allegedly drawn from her own life, containing a story within a story. Set in Switzerland just prior to WWII it depicts an interesting slice of a very particular life of American ex-pats. Sarah and Tim are madly in love and living in sin outside Geneva. They would marry if they could and are presumably awaiting a divorce to be able to – it is never made entirely clear. Their idyll is beset by visiting family and friends, some welcome some not, all difficult to deal with in their own way. All the visitors are in love with the wrong people and torture themselves and/or each other because of it. Some of the characters are supremely slappable, some are overly complicated, others impenetrably enigmatic. The writing teeters between lyrical and tedious, with some mesmerising descriptions of landscape, food and clothes and some excruciating pseudo-psychological analysis of feelings and motivations. If it is true that the enveloping story of illness, pain and death is taken from life then it must have been extraordinarily difficult to write and it is no wonder the novel was not published in Fisher’s lifetime. The setting is beautiful, the situation and timing interesting and the characters have promise. It probably needed a fair bit more work, particularly from an independent editor, to make it worth publishing.

The Last Painting of Sara de Vos, by Dominic Smith

It took a while to get into this novel, which jumps between three time periods and locations; the ‘Golden Age’ of Dutch painting, mid 17th century Netherlands; 1958 New York; and 2000 Sydney. The most compelling narrative is that of artist Sara de Vos, who faces hardship, loss and betrayal while struggling to continue to paint in the 1730s and 40s. The story of Martin and Ellie, which starts with a theft and a forgery in 1958, is less interesting, but serves as the key to the mystery of what happened to Sara. In the end everyone finds a measure of happiness, which is possibly a little too pat. This is not the great novel it has been hyped up as, but it provides an intriguing insight to a little known aspect of Dutch art via a different sort of relationship across three continents and three centuries.

The Madwoman Upstairs, by Catherine Lowell

It is hard to know what to make of this book for most of the way through it. At times it veers towards Jasper Fforde send-up territory, while at others it teeters on the edge of dry, with a sustained debate on literary criticism. An examination of authorial intent versus reader perception; a treasure hunt; a romance; a mystery; a psychological study of the price of fame and another of father-daughter relationships; the story has all of them and is consequently somewhat disjointed. The reader is never quite sure what direction it will take next, which is a bit disconcerting but ultimately quite fun. The last remaining descendent of the Bronte family, American Samantha Whipple enters Oxford with trepidation about the potential affect of her name. The original thinker discovers her beloved late father has set her a quest for her family legacy, but will her terribly English tutor help or hinder? One of the best things about this story is its championship of Anne as the most interesting Bronte, and it has some new angles on Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre and The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. The ending provides a genuine laugh-out loud moment for Bronte readers, a satisfying conclusion to an odd book.