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Summer Reading
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Fifteen-year-old Gustine--the dress lodger--is a potter's assistant by day, prostitute by night. Her overbearing pimp and landlord has her permanently shadowed by an indefatigable, mysterious old woman "called Eyeball or Evil Eye or Gray Sister by boys who have read their Homer, but mostly called just plain Eye." Otherwise how could he guard his investment in the startling blue dress in which Gustine rents herself? Her trade, he explains, "works on this basic principle: a cheap whore is given a fancy dress as a higher class of prostitute, the higher the station of the clientèlle; the higher the station, the higher the price." Gustine's garment beckons Henry Chiver, an ambitious young surgeon who has fled Edinburgh, having been implicated in the convictions of infamous pioneer anatomists Burke and Hare for murder and grave robbing. For this doctor, desperate to reestablish his tarnished reputation through medical discovery, the heart is the favorite organ, "the singular fascination of his life." But to further his researches, and quell the increasing demands of his paying students--who are restless for induction into the arts of the scalpel--Henry requires dead bodies for dissection, to the horror of his naïve, philanthropic fiancée. But the Anatomy Act, which allows doctors to obtain corpses legally, has yet to pass through Parliament, and a suspicious public is terrifying itself with stories of murderous "burkers."
Street-smart Gustine, a pragmatist trapped in unrelenting poverty, is all heart for her nameless little son who wears--literally--his heart on the outside. His rare case of ectopia cordis is just the sort of anatomical anomaly whose study would make a name for the doctor. Amid the gathering momentum of the cholera epidemic, Henry and Gustine strike up a fatal pact: life for her son in exchange for a fresh supply of dead bodies for Henry's dissection. With mordant Dickensian wit and Elizabeth Gaskell's deft touch for gutsy outcast women seizing control of their destiny, Sheri Holman carves out a rich, imaginative adventure as incisive and as gruesomely fascinating as a 19th-century operating theater. --Rachel Holmes --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.
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This book is well written; an interesting tale, some history, and I would happily have read it were it twice as long. This Authoress's very harsh, foul, and all 5 sense offending England, makes many descriptions that others have written, descriptive of a city that while not perfect, is tolerable, and tolerated.
This book rubs the reader raw, nothing is embellished, think of something that you fear, and then imagine it has been brought to the page with a beautiful turn of phrase. This Authoress writes what other authors, and other readers may have been thinking. Many have mentioned topics in the book in their reviews, if they make you shift a bit in your seat, Sheri Holman will keep you there as going to bed and dreaming of her characters would be exponentially more frightening.
I enjoyed the book enough to go and pursue her first, and subsequent works will be added to my reading as well.
Good read, you would not be disappointed, just a bit unnerved.
The author masterfully re-creates England of the early last century, from the extreme poverty to the classist attitudes of the poor--something most period-pieces forget--as well as the rich. We are caught in a world of whores, disease, grave-robbers, and ladies. The author does not judge or euphemize: she simply re-creates and recounts. As a result, every detail of the book takes on a glowing vividness.
By far, the best aspect of the book is its narrative. One aspect that pleased me was the author's way of bringing us close to the characters and events and then distancing us at crucial moments, making the events seem hauntingly real. As such, the book has a sort of tension and a feeling of uneasiness that keept me reading anxiously, even in the happiest moments. It is in the book's masterful control of the plot, characters, and even of the reader--particularly in the second-to-last chapter--that you know that you are in the presence of someone who will become a great writer.
The Lodger is divided into two halves. In the first, we learn essentially not to judge a book by its cover; in the second, we learn that you cannot change what you are. These themes exist programmatically as well - in the first, the plot lures you into false conceptions about itself and in the second, the plot plays with the idea of a "historical novel" by leading you into several possible outcomes. Thankfully, though the author is aware of narratological and generic aspects, she does not use them as cheap gimmics, nor does she give them full keel. The author seems to know as much about controlling the author as about controlling the plot.
The one unpleasant aspect of the book is/are the narrators. Most of the work is written in a simple, third-person narrative, but there are occasional intrusions by first-person-plural narrators. These latter narrators exist in the past as well as in the present and detract from the period-authenticity of the book. These narrators feel free to mix contemporary and modern slang and use British together with American orthography (+neighbour+ and +jail+, respectively). Even when I understood their narratological function, I found they jerked me around too much. Then again, I am an editor and tend to be somewhat anal. There are also a few small things that were left unanswered, for example, did Dr. Clanny recognise Gustine as the body snatcher?
On the whole, the book is excellent.