Modern literature and education Literary modernism Postmodernism Feminist literature

4 The Dark Clue by James Wilson
Another book that has not had the attention it deserves. It takes the central characters from Wilkie Collins’s ingenious The Woman in White, Walter and Marian, and has them investigate another mystery – the secret life of the painter Turner, who has recently died. A biography is about to be published that will destroy his reputation and Walter sets out to clear the name of his hero. As well as telling an engaging story, the author displays a sure-footed knowledge of the period. Not just the language but also the portrayal of the manners, the conventions, and the class-based nature of society all ring true.
5 The Observations by Jane Harris
The great delight of this book is the narrator’s voice. When Bessy starts work as a young maidservant in Scotland in 1863 her young mistress, Arabella, instructs her to keep a journal each day and let her read it. That is what the novel is and the exuberance and naivety of the girl charm the reader, who only gradually realises that Bessy is not wholly to be trusted. And Arabella has her own secrets as well. Why has she required Bessy to reveal her thoughts in writing? Soon each of them is spying on and deceiving the other in a relationship which becomes – apparently without their realising it – more than a little erotic. And the reader is in for a switchback ride of surprises and revelations – some of them pretty dark.
6 Florence and Giles by John Harding
Another “revisiting” of a classic text. Think “two children, their distant guardian, and a governess”. No more hints. The young girl, Florence, tells a story which becomes increasingly incredible in more than one sense. Her language and assumptions are disturbingly unlike those of most twelve-year-olds. Like the other “variations on a classic text” I’ve chosen, this not only entertains in its own right but illuminates the work it is glancing off.
7 The Convictions of John Delahunt by Andrew Hughes
This impressive first novel compellingly imagines the lead-up to a real murder committed in 1842. In a sort of confession, the killer describes his gradual involvement in the shadowy world of perjury and betrayal organised by the Dublin police. I found it hard to decide if the novel was a study in the corruption of a fairly ordinary man in extreme circumstances or an account of the evolution of a psychopath. Either way, the horrible logic of the plot leads to an entirely plausible though surprising twist.