*COURTESY OF NETGALLEY*
In nineteenth century London, fifteen year old Maud
Greenwood finds herself homeless, after her father died unexpectedly two years
ago. Her brief role as a governess has left her with nothing but sleepless
nights and nightmares. Having found no other means to make ends meet, and
despairing in further bad dreams, the letter that arrives from a cousin she
never knew she had, gives her hope for a better life in Rending.
John Shawcross is an artist whose paintings rarely leave the
art gallery. His restoration of The Doom, commissioned by Juliana Greenwood, is
what’s going into his pockets. His paths cross with the mysterious Maud in
Rending, and he too hopes for a better future.
But the devil in the corner was just biding his time.
Interesting premise, isn’t it? (If you thought otherwise,
it’s most probably courtesy of my abhorring backside blurb writing skills –
check out the Goodreads blurb and you’ll agree). But that’s all this book was.
The story began well enough. I initially thought the
narration was bland, but it became verbose and HELLO it’s the nineteenth
century lingo which I’m a sucker for (Jane Austen, anyone?), so I became
slightly happier. Maud is not a saint-like heroine, she’s real – I was happy.
So when exactly did I start getting annoyed?
The chapters switch between the POVs of Maud and John, and
there perhaps was where I started getting irritated with this book. When we
hear Maud, we picture this girl that we sympathize with, understand, also
admire for her resolution to plough on. When we hear John, we think of Maud as
this jealous, whining, controlling, aspiring – but – cautious girlfriend – whom
John nevertheless describes as “fairy creature who has laid an enchantment” (I
know, right?) – and we think, “Hang on, are we talking about the same Maud?”,
and also, “Why John, why?”
I could forgive the romance being silly here because I was
playing the “it’s the nineteenth century, you can expect this” excuse (which
is, in retrospect, an insult to classics). But then the book starts to get
infuriating. He is too selfless, she is too selfish, both are pining away for
each other due to circumstances, but she has to court someone else, the plot is
meandering through roads not needed…
Meanwhile, the devil in the corner had yet to make a significant appearance.
I hate to ditch a book, so I faithfully reached the end -
which is the redeemable part of this book. The genre switches from romance to
sh-I’m-not-telling, so yes, this becomes the saving grace.
VERDICT: 2.5 stars
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