This short (99 pages) novella is a horror story of sorts. Melanie Langdon is a happily married woman who is recuperating from tuberculosis and the birth of her child, sometime in the 1950s (when the book was published). On her first day out of her sickroom, Melanie lays upon an old Victorian chaise-lounge, and finds herself transported back in time, into the body of Milly, a single woman living in 1864.

Such a short novel and so complicated to explain. It’s a horror story, but completely unlike anything I’ve ever read before. It’s also a time slip novel, but again, unlike anything I’ve ever read before. Melanie/Milly is incredibly preoccupied with the idea of death, for one thing; I know of no other time travel book in which a character actually imagines her alter-ego in the past as rotting and decaying. It’s pretty creepy, to say the least.

It’s a novel which is incredible preoccupied with the idea of being “saved,” in a religious sense, and about identity—it turns out that Melanie and Milly are much more similar, in fact, than you might think at first (in fact, Mealnie finds herself actually remembering Melly’s thoughts, which is also pretty freaky). I’m not sure I really understood all the ecclesiastical stuff, and I wasn’t too keen on how melodramatic this novella was at times. Also, we never really, truly are told what Milly’s story is; Melanie has to find things out by inference, which means that the reader does the same thing. Still, there were parts of the novella I enjoyed; it may have just been too much for me. ( )

Narrator, Melanie, living in the 1950s and recovering from TB, lies down on a victorian chaise-longe and finds herself trapped inside the body of Millie, a Victorian woman, also with TB. Life is pretty grim for Millie. Medical care is terrible and pain relief rudimentary. There is little prospect of recovery and her sister treats her abominably, primarily, it seems, for not revealing a name linked to a secret (presumably the father of a child she conceived out of wedlock).
On one level the Victorian narrative simply shows how terrible was the lot of women in a bygone age. But I'm not so sure Laski wanted to show the life led by Melanie to be all that great. Yes, she is loved and there are even references to extra-marital sex; most importantly medical advances mean she will make a full recovery. But there is still a sense of her entrapment, the confinement forced upon her by her illness somehow standing for the confinement of women as a whole. Afterall, what was her life before her illness but wandering around junk shops looking for treasures? The chaise-longe is not a link back to a forgotten past, it is a reminder that such a past still lingers.
Great book. A little clunky, but you can feel ideas trying to get out, only you're never quite sure what those ideas are. ( )

A powerful novella that reflects on time shifts, the end (or beginning) of life. A tension is held throughout the 90 pages that wraps you in the claustrophobic world of a Victorian drawing room populated by some unpleasant characters that Dickens would have been proud of. All this and the heroine is trapped in a body that isn't hers, while she tries to work out why she is there and how to get back. ( )

What an extraordinary, extraordinary book. I thought after reading David Lindsay's interesting, if flawed, "The Haunted Woman" I should give this a go as it seems to exist in a similar semi-supernatural hinterland. A simple story - woman ill with TB suddenly finds herself via the titula chaise longue in the body of a strange similarly afflicted Victorian woman - but told with such beauty, skill and elegance. There's a sort of vice like grip of tension with the prose as the heroine slips into - madness? fear? illness? death? It's absolutely *stunningly* executed and one of those few books where you feel one word more or less would fundamentally do for the book. Absolutely glorious. Cannot recommend it enough. ( )

I was browsing in my fabulous local independent booksellers (Mostly Books, Abingdon, UK) and thought I'd buy a 'Persephone' book to add to my collection - I couldn't choose, and Mark suggested this superb novella - imagine a Victorian horror version of 'Life on Mars' (the hit TV series) he said, knowing my tastes pretty well by now.
Well it didn't disappoint. When Melanie, a new mother recuperating from TB falls asleep on her old chaise-longue, she wakes up in the body of young Victorian Milly who is dying of consumption and living in somewhat mysterious circumstances dominated by her sister Adelaide.
As Milly's body is ravaged by the end-stage TB, Melanie's total mental anguish as she discovers more about her situation is horrifying, when she reads the clues from conversations with Adelaide, and other visitors to the house. Add the choking atmosphere of the sickroom and the London fog lurking outside and you have a claustrophobic masterpiece that must ultimately burst from its bounds. A brilliant psychological drama. ( )