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asourceoffiction's review
4.0
This is the saga of the Seacombe family. In the 1950s Daisy is learning the trials of being a police officer's wife - the secrecy, the boys' club, the loneliness - and takes comfort in the world of cinema and her children. In 1998 Mike and Linda (and Linda's deaf son Lucas) are still mourning Daisy's death a decade before. While relearning sign language Lucas begins to unlock memories of his grandmother and what happened to her.
This book has a melancholy air throughout, but that almost adds to its beauty. I saw every scene with a wistful gaze, which in Brighton and the South Downs made it feel truly stunning at times. I thought that the mystery of Daisy's death had been solved too early, but there was so much more to unravel, both about how she died and the profound effect it had on the whole story. Daisy's life was fascinating and so well developed that it felt stifling to read about the position in which she became trapped through her husband. But what a character; she shows fierce independence and determination at a time when women had far fewer options than we do today.
I loved Mike and Linda, but really fell for Mike's unlikely friendship with a stranger that turns his outlook around and helps him begin to move on. But the real triumph in this book, for me, was Lucas. There were so many subtle touches that bring home the everyday difficulties of navigating mainstream secondary school as a deaf child. The way a teacher turning their head could make him miss half the lesson plan, or how words just disappear when lipreading. As Lucas remembers how to sign with his support worker Cassie (another beautifully sad plot thread, there were so many lovely touches), his enclosed world and outlook begin to open up in ways he'd long forgotten.
I did find at times that the story occasionally jumped around in a confusing way, and I'd have to quickly adjust who I thought I was reading about or what event was being portrayed. But this wasn't always detrimental to the plot as it added to the ethereal, melancholy feel. It's a powerful and thoughtful read, filled with nostalgia for cinema and seaside towns, and interlaced with a fascinating in-depth family history.
This book has a melancholy air throughout, but that almost adds to its beauty. I saw every scene with a wistful gaze, which in Brighton and the South Downs made it feel truly stunning at times. I thought that the mystery of Daisy's death had been solved too early, but there was so much more to unravel, both about how she died and the profound effect it had on the whole story. Daisy's life was fascinating and so well developed that it felt stifling to read about the position in which she became trapped through her husband. But what a character; she shows fierce independence and determination at a time when women had far fewer options than we do today.
I loved Mike and Linda, but really fell for Mike's unlikely friendship with a stranger that turns his outlook around and helps him begin to move on. But the real triumph in this book, for me, was Lucas. There were so many subtle touches that bring home the everyday difficulties of navigating mainstream secondary school as a deaf child. The way a teacher turning their head could make him miss half the lesson plan, or how words just disappear when lipreading. As Lucas remembers how to sign with his support worker Cassie (another beautifully sad plot thread, there were so many lovely touches), his enclosed world and outlook begin to open up in ways he'd long forgotten.
I did find at times that the story occasionally jumped around in a confusing way, and I'd have to quickly adjust who I thought I was reading about or what event was being portrayed. But this wasn't always detrimental to the plot as it added to the ethereal, melancholy feel. It's a powerful and thoughtful read, filled with nostalgia for cinema and seaside towns, and interlaced with a fascinating in-depth family history.
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