ilseoo's review against another edition
4.0
4,5 stars. I liked this book way more than "Bodies of Light". Both storylines were highly interesting, with one centering around an asylum in Victiorian England and the other one set in nineteenth century Japan. I loved the writing style, character building, and tension in the unfolding plot. If, like me, you didn't really like the first book, the sequel is still definitely worth a shot.
pixiegael's review against another edition
I found Ally rather annoying. Couldn't relate to her. The pace just plodded. I don't think it helped that it's all in the present tense. Yawn.
betweenbookends's review against another edition
4.0
With this duology, I’m assured of Sarah Moss as a writer of incredible nuance, intelligence, observation, elegance, and style. Signs for Lost Children picks up just where Bodies of Light left, so I’d really encourage one to start with Bodies of Light before they try this as the motivations of these characters, the backstories and context would all be lost by starting directly here.
Bodies of Light triumphs in its themes, but rushes through the years. Signs for Lost Children, on the other hand, is set across a single year following Ally’s marriage. So in some respect, there’s more coherence to the plot, more substance to the characters. Just weeks into married life, the young couple face a period of separation with Tom heading off to Japan for a work assignment and Ally taking up the position as a doctor in the Truro mental asylum. The narrative then alternates between Ally and Tom, mapping their lives from Cornwall to Japan creating a dichotomous yet distinct ‘parallel lines, parallel lives’ kind-of story.
At its core Signs for Lost Children offers a fascinating deep-dive into the stigma of mental illnesses in the 19th century. Ally is such an interesting protagonist in her own sense as she herself suffers from anxiety issues stemming from the mental torture instigated by her own mother. Moss creates these incredibly claustrophobic scenes of being trapped in Ally’s head where you understand that she’s allowing herself to be hurt by her mother, and as a reader, you feel the pent-up frustration and yet an overwhelming feeling of empathy of what it means to be in that position. Incapacitated, by sheer lack of will to fight back.
Ally, thus, portrays a very unique position. She is both the physician and the patient, the healer and the sufferer, at once, and in a time when mental illnesses were not considered as ’real’ illnesses. Alternating with that are stunning descriptions of 19th century Japan, of the way mental illnesses there, were perceived as being possessed by mythical fox spirits and the curiosities of seeing this ancient culture from the eyes of a British man. The dual narrative braid into one another, charting each of their paths as they navigate loneliness and their own internal struggles. The only setback I felt was it dragged at parts.
Sarah Moss isn’t for everyone. There is a certain level of patience required to tackle a Sarah Moss novel, but the end result is rewarding in my opinion. Her stories aren’t plot-heavy, they aren’t filled with intrigue. Instead, they offer thorough insight into a particular topic, at a level that almost feels academic without being factual, interesting without being laborious, atmospheric without necessarily having any elements of mystery and through those layers, Moss shines.
Rating: 4/5
Bodies of Light triumphs in its themes, but rushes through the years. Signs for Lost Children, on the other hand, is set across a single year following Ally’s marriage. So in some respect, there’s more coherence to the plot, more substance to the characters. Just weeks into married life, the young couple face a period of separation with Tom heading off to Japan for a work assignment and Ally taking up the position as a doctor in the Truro mental asylum. The narrative then alternates between Ally and Tom, mapping their lives from Cornwall to Japan creating a dichotomous yet distinct ‘parallel lines, parallel lives’ kind-of story.
At its core Signs for Lost Children offers a fascinating deep-dive into the stigma of mental illnesses in the 19th century. Ally is such an interesting protagonist in her own sense as she herself suffers from anxiety issues stemming from the mental torture instigated by her own mother. Moss creates these incredibly claustrophobic scenes of being trapped in Ally’s head where you understand that she’s allowing herself to be hurt by her mother, and as a reader, you feel the pent-up frustration and yet an overwhelming feeling of empathy of what it means to be in that position. Incapacitated, by sheer lack of will to fight back.
Ally, thus, portrays a very unique position. She is both the physician and the patient, the healer and the sufferer, at once, and in a time when mental illnesses were not considered as ’real’ illnesses. Alternating with that are stunning descriptions of 19th century Japan, of the way mental illnesses there, were perceived as being possessed by mythical fox spirits and the curiosities of seeing this ancient culture from the eyes of a British man. The dual narrative braid into one another, charting each of their paths as they navigate loneliness and their own internal struggles. The only setback I felt was it dragged at parts.
Sarah Moss isn’t for everyone. There is a certain level of patience required to tackle a Sarah Moss novel, but the end result is rewarding in my opinion. Her stories aren’t plot-heavy, they aren’t filled with intrigue. Instead, they offer thorough insight into a particular topic, at a level that almost feels academic without being factual, interesting without being laborious, atmospheric without necessarily having any elements of mystery and through those layers, Moss shines.
Rating: 4/5
milomo's review against another edition
challenging
informative
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
cloverhelps's review against another edition
dark
emotional
hopeful
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
andrew61's review against another edition
4.0
The final part of this loose trilogy about Dr Ally Mobberley Cavendish reinforces my feeling that Sarah moss is rapidly becoming one of my favourite writers.
Book 1 Night waking had been set in the modern day but through historical extracts we learnt about Ally's sister May who as a newly qualified midwife had ventured to a remote Scottish island to help establish modern birthing practices. The relationship between May and Ally was expanded upon in the next book where we follow Ally through a childhood in which her zealously religious mother and self obsessed artist father had me cheering with relief when Ally qualified as one of the first women doctors and moved newly married to live with her husband Tom in Cornwall having escaped from the maternal vice like grip on her life.
In this book Tom within weeks of marriage journeys to Japan for his employment as a lighthouse engineer and with a commission to find art pieces for the local aristocrat. ally is left alone in her new role as dr in a women's asylum and very quickly she struggles under the emotional strain leading to her to return to Manchester to help her mother ( the cheer quickly turned to a shout of anguish and my nearly throwing the book across the room).
The story is told with great tenderness for character and a brilliant evocation of time and place. I was totally immersed in this 19th century world which stretched from descriptions of Japan and it's culture , to the horror of treatment of the mentally ill in that era, to the slums of Manchester. Sarah moss has a unique ability to tell a good story with plenty of social history without the reader feeling overwhelmed by fact or feeling that a writer is trying to show how clever they are with obvious research visible. Sarah Moss also with sensitivity explores as she did in bk 2 the struggles with sexual relationships in Victorian times and the impact and misunderstandings in newly married couples especially after absences.
I will be sorry to leave the world of Victorian female medics but I leave it pleased with knowing that this is an author I will enjoy reading for many years.
Book 1 Night waking had been set in the modern day but through historical extracts we learnt about Ally's sister May who as a newly qualified midwife had ventured to a remote Scottish island to help establish modern birthing practices. The relationship between May and Ally was expanded upon in the next book where we follow Ally through a childhood in which her zealously religious mother and self obsessed artist father had me cheering with relief when Ally qualified as one of the first women doctors and moved newly married to live with her husband Tom in Cornwall having escaped from the maternal vice like grip on her life.
In this book Tom within weeks of marriage journeys to Japan for his employment as a lighthouse engineer and with a commission to find art pieces for the local aristocrat. ally is left alone in her new role as dr in a women's asylum and very quickly she struggles under the emotional strain leading to her to return to Manchester to help her mother ( the cheer quickly turned to a shout of anguish and my nearly throwing the book across the room).
The story is told with great tenderness for character and a brilliant evocation of time and place. I was totally immersed in this 19th century world which stretched from descriptions of Japan and it's culture , to the horror of treatment of the mentally ill in that era, to the slums of Manchester. Sarah moss has a unique ability to tell a good story with plenty of social history without the reader feeling overwhelmed by fact or feeling that a writer is trying to show how clever they are with obvious research visible. Sarah Moss also with sensitivity explores as she did in bk 2 the struggles with sexual relationships in Victorian times and the impact and misunderstandings in newly married couples especially after absences.
I will be sorry to leave the world of Victorian female medics but I leave it pleased with knowing that this is an author I will enjoy reading for many years.
notasilkycat's review against another edition
5.0
O my God. Moss is that brilliant in conveying neurosis of old England that I was just blown away. I think historical fiction is definitely her genre.
It would not hurt to read the trilogy in the right oder I believe but I am weirdly enough going from third book one to first. But I will reread Night Waking for sure.
It would not hurt to read the trilogy in the right oder I believe but I am weirdly enough going from third book one to first. But I will reread Night Waking for sure.
wendoxford's review against another edition
4.0
This is the 3rd in Sarah Moss' trilogy. Whilst the first 2 books are connected in a slightly oblique way; this last volume is a direct sequel.
It took me a while to warm up. Whilst the author stays true to questioning women's roles (in late 19th century) the story is constructed in a more direct timeline, alternating chapters of Ally's life in Cornwall, Manchester & London whilst Tom is travelling to and from Japan for a engineering project. The Japanese insights are fascinating but I think the book could have stood well enough without this male, oriental narrative. Apart from this section's nod to Japanese insanity, it did not feed the female thread and, for me, did not add to the book..
Portraits of aloneness, duty/responsibility echo through the story. Contemporary treatments for hysteria/insanity use lingering, yet sparse, prose informing that harsh treatment was the only way to treat the assumed moral turpitude of these "afflicted" women. Ally's research enourages her realise how relative sanity is. Her disdain for punitive treatments she feels inappropriate gains her a post for running a half-way house for women whose lives have been destroyed by poverty and social problems rather than psychosis.
It took me a while to warm up. Whilst the author stays true to questioning women's roles (in late 19th century) the story is constructed in a more direct timeline, alternating chapters of Ally's life in Cornwall, Manchester & London whilst Tom is travelling to and from Japan for a engineering project. The Japanese insights are fascinating but I think the book could have stood well enough without this male, oriental narrative. Apart from this section's nod to Japanese insanity, it did not feed the female thread and, for me, did not add to the book..
Portraits of aloneness, duty/responsibility echo through the story. Contemporary treatments for hysteria/insanity use lingering, yet sparse, prose informing that harsh treatment was the only way to treat the assumed moral turpitude of these "afflicted" women. Ally's research enourages her realise how relative sanity is. Her disdain for punitive treatments she feels inappropriate gains her a post for running a half-way house for women whose lives have been destroyed by poverty and social problems rather than psychosis.