Eva Rice

It's 1990 and February Kingdom (what a fabulous name!) is 19, just a few years older than I was at the same time, and the scene is set perfectly, taking me back to the days of the Sony Walkman and trying desperately to record the Top 40 countdown onto a cassette tape.

February's short life has been beset by tragedy at every turn, losing her parents and later her twin sister in terrible circumstances. Understandably, everyday life is difficult to cope with now and she hasn't been out for show more months. Could a little yellow bird and a boy named Theo be enough to help her carry on?

This is very much a character-driven plot and the characters are well-written, fascinating and larger-than-life creations that I really enjoyed reading about. There's a subplot featuring February's aunt and uncle and I think Ann, the aunt having something of an awakening of her own, was possibly my favourite character of all, along with the rather special Theo. I also loved Plato, a would-be pop star, and a cameo appearance by Michael Hutchence was such a thrill. The music storylines transported me right back to the 90s and the days of excitedly flicking through the new issue of Smash Hits for my latest heartthrob. It's such an evocative read in so many ways.

This is not my first Eva Rice, in fact I've been reading her since her first book, Standing Room Only. I've always enjoyed her quite wistful and whimsical style of writing, combined with the way she completely transports me to another time or place, or way of living. This Could be Everything is a sad read in many ways, but it left me feeling ultimately full of hope for February's future. Some very clever plot developments that I never saw coming but which made perfect sense once they were revealed, coupled with the dynamics between the characters, make this a charming read. show less

I adore Eva Rice's The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets, so I was rather excited when I discovered she had finally written another novel.

Something I would have liked to know before I read this: it 's a companion novel, an almost-sequel to The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets.
I was expecting characters from The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets to make subtle cameos, but not for one character to make a substantial appearance, nor for major events from the end of The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets to be show more discussed at such length. It's not a problem, because I've read The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets, I know what happens, but the unexpectedness of it was ... distracting. Once I got over that, I enjoyed this very much.

Ostensibly, The Misinterpretation of Tara Jupp is about a vicar's youngest daughter who is heard singing at a wedding and offered an opportunity to make a record in London under the name Cherry Merrywell. She's "plunged" into a 1960s world of "fashion, music and heartache, all in a city were skirts are being hitched as fast as the past is being pulled down", to quote the blurb. And that's a good summary for part of the story.

But it begins in the 1950s. This seems like a slow, meandering beginning if you're expecting 17 year old Tara singing in London. Except this isn't just a prelude to the main event. Tara's experiences growing up are interesting and important, because this story is really about Tara and her oldest sister, how they are affected by their mother's death, and how Tara's obsession with horses and Lucy's obsession with stately homes lead to them befriending Matilda, who lives at Trellanack House. That's the heart of this book, perhaps more than Tara's love of music: Tara's relationship with her sister, Lucy's passion for "Grand Houses", and Lucy's friendship with Matilda.

It's not quite as charming nor as poignant as The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets. Tara's London is a bit wilder and less comfortable than Penelope's - and Tara's faced with people who want to rebrand her, turn her into someone else.
Occasionally the story threatens to become melodramatic - but it never does. Despite potential soap opera material, despite the mistakes and misunderstandings and conflict, it presents a positive view of the relationships between sisters and friends and lovers - and a positive view of the characters who make those mistakes. I really liked that.

Tara has seven siblings in total, and I love how she's always talking about them, because they're such an important part of her life. The Jupps are family of strong personalities. Although the trip to London is important for both Tara and Lucy in working out what they want from life, my favourite parts were when they were in Cornwall with the rest of their family, sitting around the kitchen in the Rectory.
I also love Lucy's passion for beautiful old buildings, because it's a passion I share (even if I am much less knowledgeable than Lucy is).

Lucy had a way of talking about these places that made them come alive in blazing colour. "That place won't be standing in two years' time," she predicted. "And we just sit back and watch it all disappear. All that work. All that time spent building something that should last forever."
I thought she was going to cry. show less

Penelope Wallace meets Charlotte Ferris at a bus stop, when the latter insists Penelope accompany her to her Aunt Clare’s for tea. It is 1950s London, and the two young women, seemingly very different, become fast friends, moving through elegant parties, sharing a crush on singer/heartthrob Johnnie Ray, and exploring various love interests. Together they weather the changes in British post-war society, and in their own family situations.

I really enjoyed this novel. Through her characters, show more Rice lets the reader experience a taste of high society and Bohemian counterculture, landed gentry living in genteel poverty, the excesses of youth, and the fascination with flashy Americans. Despite our many differences (age, nationality, social standing, etc), I connected to these characters. I loved how they developed as they matured. Penelope, Charlotte, Harry and Inigo are witty, thoughtful, confused, eager, charming and vulnerable.

I applaud Rice for what she did “not” have the characters say and do, as much as for what she did have them comment upon and experience. They felt real to me, and while I have no desire at all to relive my teens, I was happy to go along with them on their journey towards adulthood. show less

I first heard of The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets during my quest for books like I Capture the Castle. It's not I Capture the Castle, of course, and I wouldn't want it to be, but it deals with a similar territory: coming of age against a background of an eccentric family, not enough money and an impressive, literally-cold, crumbling home.

It's 1954 and Penelope Wallace is eighteen years old, poised between adolescence and adulthood. Her father died during the war and there isn't the money to show more restore Milton Magna Hall, where she lives with her difficult beautiful young mother and her music-obsessed brother Inigo (who sneaks home from boarding school on weekends).
The book opens when Penelope, waiting at a London busstop, meets Charlotte and Charlotte talks her into coming to tea with Charlotte's aunt.
And thus begins a friendship between two tall girls, both in love with the singer Johnnie Ray and both waiting for their adult lives to begin. Charlotte and her enigmatic cousin, Harry (who is training to be a magician) drag Penelope to London parties and bring Magna to life with their visits.

The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets is charming, lively and poignant - full of vibrant characters, and details about London, being a teenager in 1950s and the gap between those who were adults and those who were children during the war. I like that it's a coming-of-age story more about friendship than romance. Penelope's insights about people and London and growing up are everything I wanted from this sort of story.

I stayed up late reading because I just couldn't put this down... and I don't know that I can adequately describe how it left me feeling. Bittersweet, and very reluctant to return it to the library. I love this book! And I love how the title fits it perfectly, even if it takes time to see why.

"It's supposed to be quite the most magnificent building in the west country," said Aunt Clare, recovering her voice.
"It was, perhaps," I said. "It's in rather a state at the moment. I mean, it hasn't quite recovered from the war. There was a lot of mess made when it was requisitioned. The soldiers treated it pretty appalling - " I stopped there, my heart beating furiously. I hadn't talked about the problems Magna faced to anyone, not even to my mother. The subject made me more nervous than anything in the world.
"To watch a great house dying is a terrible tragedy," murmured Aunt Clare. "One of the great tragedies known to man [...]" show less