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The Golden Rule
When Hannah is invited into the First-Class carriage of the London to Penzance train by Jinni, she walks into a spider's web. Now a poor young single mother, Hannah once escaped Cornwall to go to university. But once she married Jake and had his child, her dreams were crushed into bitter disillusion. Her husband has left her for Eve, rich and childless, and Hannah has been surviving by becoming a cleaner in London. Jinni is equally angry and bitter, and in the course of their journey the two women agree to murder each other's husbands. After all, they are strangers on a train — who could possibly connect them?
But when Hannah goes to Jinni's husband's home the next night, she finds Stan, a huge, hairy, ugly drunk who has his own problems — not least the care of a half-ruined house and garden. He claims Jinni is a very different person to the one who has persuaded Hannah to commit a terrible crime. Who is telling the truth — and who is the real victim?
But when Hannah goes to Jinni's husband's home the next night, she finds Stan, a huge, hairy, ugly drunk who has his own problems — not least the care of a half-ruined house and garden. He claims Jinni is a very different person to the one who has persuaded Hannah to commit a terrible crime. Who is telling the truth — and who is the real victim?
400 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 6, 2020
About the author
Amanda Craig
23 books138 followersAmanda Craig (born 1959) is a British novelist. Craig studied at Bedales School and Cambridge and works as a journalist. She is married with two children and lives in London.
Craig has so far published a cycle of six novels which deal with contemporary British society, often in a concise acerbic satirical manner. Her approach to writing fiction has been compared to that of Anthony Trollope and Charles Dickens.[1] Her novel A Vicious Circle was originally contracted to be published by Hamish Hamilton, but was cancelled when its proof copy received a libel threat from David Sexton, a literary critic and former boyfriend of Craig's at Cambridge, fifteen years previously.[2] The novel was promptly bought by Fourth Estate and published three months later. Although each novel can be read separately, they are linked to each other by common characters and themes, thus constituting a novel sequence. Usually, Craig takes a minor character and makes him or her the protagonist of her next work.
Craig is particularly interested in children's fiction, and was one of the first critics to praise JK Rowling and Philip Pullman in The New Statesman. She is currently the children's critic for The Times.
Craig has so far published a cycle of six novels which deal with contemporary British society, often in a concise acerbic satirical manner. Her approach to writing fiction has been compared to that of Anthony Trollope and Charles Dickens.[1] Her novel A Vicious Circle was originally contracted to be published by Hamish Hamilton, but was cancelled when its proof copy received a libel threat from David Sexton, a literary critic and former boyfriend of Craig's at Cambridge, fifteen years previously.[2] The novel was promptly bought by Fourth Estate and published three months later. Although each novel can be read separately, they are linked to each other by common characters and themes, thus constituting a novel sequence. Usually, Craig takes a minor character and makes him or her the protagonist of her next work.
Craig is particularly interested in children's fiction, and was one of the first critics to praise JK Rowling and Philip Pullman in The New Statesman. She is currently the children's critic for The Times.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 264 reviews
March 23, 2021
Ugh. Cliche, predictable, and overwritten. I felt like I was being talked at for the entire experience. What were they thinking?
May 14, 2021
She had intended to bury herself in Persuasion but instead found herself in quite a different story, a vulgar and brutal thriller of the kind she avoided when she had any time to read at all.
She had expected her life to belong to one kind of genre, but instead it had twisted into another, something darker, nastier and less predictable. Yet whose life stayed on one track, from birth to death, ever? The comfort of reading was that it persuaded you that everything would conform to a particular patter, that there would be tropes and coincidences and characters obeying certain rule, and even though it was clearly labelled Fiction, you still expected it to be telling the truth, not just about life, but about yourself.
I read this book due to its longlisting for the 2021 Women’s Prize.
I read the author’s previous novel “The Lie of the Land” – a book which I struggled to enjoy, commenting that what could have been a good examination of differences and reconciliation (between people but also between London and the country, with the Brexit vote ever present in the background and the book serving as an examination in particular of rural alienation) and an entertaining, throwaway rural mystery were combined into an unsatisfactory mix by a rather ridiculous series of melodramatic confrontations and unlikely revelations which concluded the book.
Perhaps having read that book – I was this time more familiar with what to expect: the juxtaposition of a state of the nation story examining current divides in Britain, with a rather far-fetched genre based plot. I also became more aware in this book (as the second I have read) of what I am going to call the Craig-verse – the author’s deliberate featuring of major characters in one novel as minor ones in another.
The effect I have come to realise is very reminiscent of Jonathan Coe – with the two books of his I have read “What a Carve up” and “Number 11”, books featuring many of the same characters and combining a satirical examination of societal tensions, topical political commentary, English farce and B-movie horror film; and so I was intrigued to see that author blurbing both the front and back cover of this novel.
This novel is set in London and Cornwall – and draws very explicitly (in most cases with the characters openly acknowledging the links) on Patricia Highsmith/Alfred Hitchcock’s “Strangers on a Train” (for basic plot), on “Beauty and the Beast” (the one unacknowledged in the text) for a key relationship and on Jane Austen for its examinations of differences in marriage.
The book is narrated in a close third person by Hannah. Born in a poor Cornish village to a single mother (school nurse I quickly worked out at the school where a previous Craig novel was set), with the help of a bookseller she works her way to Durham to study English literature, then gains a job in advertising. There she is subject to routine sexual harassment but eventually marries her University boyfriend – Jake, comfortably upper-middle class with Cornish aristocratic grandparents on one side, and something of a golden boy, but with “hidden shallows”. Their marriage soon sours into rancour and even violence, despite (or perhaps because of) a young daughter Maisie and when Hannah discovers Jake’s affair with a girl Eve, to imminent divorce. Jake though is at best intermittent in financial support and Hannah, approaching 30 and with Maisie 6, is living on the edge of poverty, holding down a series of casual house cleaning jobs and in a run-down flat (where I noted one of her neighbours was a major character in “The Lie of the Land”).
The story opens on a train journey back to Cornwall to see her dying mother – Hannah is given a refuge in first class by a glamorous woman – Jinni - who is also going through a difficult divorce to her rich but abusive husband Con. The woman proposes that each murders the other’s husband – and tells Hannah where Con lives giving her a burner phone and taser.
The rest of the book follows Hannah’s return to Cornwall with Maisie, for and after the funeral and her interactions with her family, the bookseller, with Jake’s family and with Con – as she decides how to carry out the murder.
For the first two thirds of the book – the book is largely focused on divides: the entitled/trust fund/family funded 20s and those on their own, struggling to survive; houseowners, second home owners, landlords, generation rent and council tenants; country versus London; Remain versus Leave; Cornwall versus England; England versus foreigners; salaried roles in contrast to the gig economy and cash-in-hand; middle class couples and their cleaners; childless couples and parents and so on – but then occasionally Hannah remembers her agreement.
The final two thirds has a series of rather unlikely dramas, with something of a fairytale trope background.
Hannah is a voracious reader (albeit not now she is a single Mum, which I think explains why she has clearly not read “Milkman” as “it was the annoyance of her life that it was impossible to walk while reading") and spends much time reminiscing fairly predictably on the differences and similarities between fiction and real life, which I always question when reading a novel where by definition the “real life” is fiction.
Where I think the novel is a little more original is that Con is a famous computer game designer – and the differences between novels and games, the ability to start over, the ability to make choices which then influence how the story develops (particularly in games which have a Golden Rule principle) and the ability to explore different choices and the resulting alternative lives are all cover, the latter in what I thought was a well crafted last couple of pages after a denouement that disappointingly not just gave Hannah a series of unrealistic ways out of all of her financial issues, but also diminished the book’s attempts to represent a non-entitled life.
Given tragic events in the UK, a book that starts about and looks to examine men’s violence to women adds an unfortunate additional degree of topicality, but the book then ends up rather too nuanced on a subject which currently (a little like BLM protests) could actually I think currently do with a little less subtlety than lines like “Once, a man’s story had been the only one to be given credence; now, increasingly, it was the other way about. But women could lie, too. Even if her sex had suffered from prejudice and injustice, and continued to do so, it did not make every single woman a saint nor every single man a monster.” and with a deliberate attempt to examine violence perpetuated by both sexes.
Overall though an interesting addition to the Women’s Prize list and a book I think I enjoyed more than “Lie of the Land” simply as being partly familiar with the author’s signature, I more knew what to expect.
December 1, 2022
In brief - I have to say that I think this seems to have a range of genres in it - however ultimately I enjoyed reading it and I do like Hannah as a character.
In full
Hannah is on the train to Cornwall to see her mother who is dying. She meets Jinni on the train and their conversations about their lives steadily deepen. It ends up with a plan for them to kill the other one's husband. Given there is no connection between them it should be a perfect crime. I'm giving nothing much away here as this is the first chapter of the book. However it certainly caught my attention and had the promise of an interesting/intriguing story.
The book follows Hannah's life after the meeting and manages to get in a fair bit of her back story too. Having been to university she goes into advertising. The feel of her time there was interesting even more so when you find out that the author followed that path! A failing marriage among other things leads to a downwards path. The marriage - now heading for divorce - is the reason that Hannah was interested in the pact made on the train. However this book is multifaceted. It works on a number of levels. I did feel this may have slowed down the narrative at times. Nevertheless I became increasingly interested in knowing just what the outcome might be.
I enjoyed the characters in this book. There are not many main characters but they work well. Hannah particularly is good as is Stan. The more minor ones do their job's well enough too. Cornwall itself is a real dimension in this tale. There is a real feel of the place - community and family etc. Equally the book is political/environmental at times with an emphasis on Cornwall.
While this is an edgy story with some tension there is another strong theme running here. This is about relationships going wrong and the bitterness that this can leave behind.
It's a strange combination of genres in some ways this. It is a book about plotting murder, the downward spiral of relationships, a social commentary on regions and something almost chic lit too. Maybe this is too many genres in one book however I still enjoyed it!
Note - I received an advance digital copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for a fair review
In full
Hannah is on the train to Cornwall to see her mother who is dying. She meets Jinni on the train and their conversations about their lives steadily deepen. It ends up with a plan for them to kill the other one's husband. Given there is no connection between them it should be a perfect crime. I'm giving nothing much away here as this is the first chapter of the book. However it certainly caught my attention and had the promise of an interesting/intriguing story.
The book follows Hannah's life after the meeting and manages to get in a fair bit of her back story too. Having been to university she goes into advertising. The feel of her time there was interesting even more so when you find out that the author followed that path! A failing marriage among other things leads to a downwards path. The marriage - now heading for divorce - is the reason that Hannah was interested in the pact made on the train. However this book is multifaceted. It works on a number of levels. I did feel this may have slowed down the narrative at times. Nevertheless I became increasingly interested in knowing just what the outcome might be.
I enjoyed the characters in this book. There are not many main characters but they work well. Hannah particularly is good as is Stan. The more minor ones do their job's well enough too. Cornwall itself is a real dimension in this tale. There is a real feel of the place - community and family etc. Equally the book is political/environmental at times with an emphasis on Cornwall.
While this is an edgy story with some tension there is another strong theme running here. This is about relationships going wrong and the bitterness that this can leave behind.
It's a strange combination of genres in some ways this. It is a book about plotting murder, the downward spiral of relationships, a social commentary on regions and something almost chic lit too. Maybe this is too many genres in one book however I still enjoyed it!
Note - I received an advance digital copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for a fair review
March 22, 2021
Gosh, this was bad. The plot is preposterous and the main character comes off as a FoxNews created caricature of liberalism.
July 30, 2020
Where to begin ? A ridiculous story line isn’t a deal breaker , just suspend belief and with a bit of imagination it can take you along but that didn’t seem to work for this book. Well it started alright but midway the plot seemed to fizzle out only to make way for a rant , that went on and on , about social injustice. Nasty filthy rich people exploiting poor hard done to working people. No stone was left unturned...Brexit, generation rent, wealthy city dwellers buying up coastal towns and forcing locals into destitution. Blah blah blah what a yawn. Had I wanted to read a party political article on behalf of A Nameless Left Wing Party I would do so but please don’t try and put these views into what is supposed to be fiction.
July 9, 2020
Dull, condescending and utterly charm free. Quite how this book has garnered such positive reviews is beyond me. The prose is laboured and full of cliches. The stereotypes of working-class lives, especially Cornish ones, are wince inducing. As for the posh, villainous characters, they feel like they've been lifted from the pages of a children's book. The entire novel reads like a middle-aged, middle class woman desperately trying to write about millennial life (without any of the feels). The denouement genuinely made me cringe, quite how the character could endure such a hellish experience with her child then have the child taken away to go to hospital by herself is actually mystifying. It literally bears no relation to real life whatsoever. Ugh! Stop publishing this dross. We need real voices and original stories (as opposed to badly recycled ones).
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
April 1, 2020
A bit of a mish mash - starting with two women on a train agreeing to murder each other's husbands, oooh a thriller you think and fasten your seat belt. But as our heroine crosses the Tamar into the simpler times of Cornwall she comes over all Mills and Boon. Aaaah, the rugged unkempt caretaker may not be all he first seems - and goodness me, is that a quickening of the heart as she decides that not all men are evil swine?
Weirdly we keep getting a political and social lecture regarding Brexit. I don't think it was just the rural folk of Cornwall that voted for Brexit but the London based heroine seems keen to let them know the error of their ways. But times have changed, as I am now locked into my house the rancour of Brexit seems retro and positively quaint.
Having used the device of one man,two names and it seemed to go well,the author decides to use it again later in the book. At this point the whole thing descends in to a seaside pantomime. The evil witch steals the child, the handsome woodcutter turns out to be a prince, and even the abusive ex-husband turns into a thoroughly nice chap once he is caught hitting his wife by his family.
Ths book is a simple romp and as long as you don't think about it too much, a pleasant way to spend a few hours.
Weirdly we keep getting a political and social lecture regarding Brexit. I don't think it was just the rural folk of Cornwall that voted for Brexit but the London based heroine seems keen to let them know the error of their ways. But times have changed, as I am now locked into my house the rancour of Brexit seems retro and positively quaint.
Having used the device of one man,two names and it seemed to go well,the author decides to use it again later in the book. At this point the whole thing descends in to a seaside pantomime. The evil witch steals the child, the handsome woodcutter turns out to be a prince, and even the abusive ex-husband turns into a thoroughly nice chap once he is caught hitting his wife by his family.
Ths book is a simple romp and as long as you don't think about it too much, a pleasant way to spend a few hours.
July 3, 2020
The Golden Rule is a majestic reworking of one of the most memorable classic crime thrillers of all time - Alfred Hitchcock’s ”Strangers on a Train” and manages to pay homage to the original masterpiece whilst showcasing Amanda Craig’s talents for spinning a devastatingly good yarn. I would say that this is more literary or women's fiction than a thriller per se as Craig likes to weave social commentary into the narrative and addresses many topical issues throughout. It's is a slow-burn read but one I ultimately enjoyed and it leaves you with much to ponder. Many thanks to Little, Brown for an ARC.
March 2, 2021
I had a lot of fun discussing this book with a friend. One of our main points of contention was whether the author knowingly makes her main character parrot tired clichés about Cornwall and London, the poor and the rich, women and men, as a means to depict the way people become blinkered when they are embittered by life. Is The Golden Rule meant to be a lesson about how myopic one segment of society is when viewing another? If so, it's fairly effective, though simplistic.
With a close friend going through a bitter divorce that echoes Hannah's, I can readily understand the desire to kill a soon-to-be-ex husband - an emotion that sets the narrative in motion. The anger and frustration of the main character is frightening but believable, and that in turn makes her retreat into sexism and classism (while railing against sexism and classism) feel genuine.
The writing generally is a bit ham-fisted - cliffs the colour of blood and so forth - when creating mood. It's not exactly bad, just unoriginal. Then again, this could easily be part of the loving homage that The Golden Rule pays to other literary works, including most obviously Strangers on a Train, but also Rebecca, Jane Eyre, Green Smoke and several more. There is an element of pastiche that is clearly intentional - and enjoyable.
What I liked most of all was the description of the Cornish countryside. The author revels in the natural world of Southwest England, bringing it to life with originality and brio. If I hadn't already been to Cornwall, I would really want to go after reading this book - though then I would be one of those pesky invading Londoners that some of the characters in The Golden Rule rail against. Eek!
Subtlety may be thin on the ground, but the mimicry of idle conversation is adroit. Some of the conversations sound like transcripts of actual conversations I have overheard regarding the poverty line and Brexit.
I did find myself perplexed, however, by several instances where the whole illusion of reality collapses. For instance, the idea that clothing in charity shops is more affordable to cash-strapped people than Primark - anybody who's been to a charity shop and/or Primark in the last 10 years would know that's not the case. At another point near the end, Hannah says that if you really care about someone you know their number off by heart, to which my reaction was: wait, are these people meant to be modern-day 20-somethings, or 20-somethings from more than a decade ago?
And I think it was instances like these that ultimately ruined The Golden Rule for me, because it ends up reading like somebody in their 50s trying, and failing, to credibly imagine what modern England seems like to someone in their 20s. And since the main point of this book seems to be about encapsulating the polarised world young Brits emerge into, if it's not convincing, it all feels like a hollow sham. To reference another of the book's themes, it plays like a really one-dimensional, unimmersive RPG.
To end on a positive note, describing the sensation you get from kissing someone you're not sure you like as "that strange feeling, like swallowing oysters that might be revolting or delicious" is awesome.
With a close friend going through a bitter divorce that echoes Hannah's, I can readily understand the desire to kill a soon-to-be-ex husband - an emotion that sets the narrative in motion. The anger and frustration of the main character is frightening but believable, and that in turn makes her retreat into sexism and classism (while railing against sexism and classism) feel genuine.
The writing generally is a bit ham-fisted - cliffs the colour of blood and so forth - when creating mood. It's not exactly bad, just unoriginal. Then again, this could easily be part of the loving homage that The Golden Rule pays to other literary works, including most obviously Strangers on a Train, but also Rebecca, Jane Eyre, Green Smoke and several more. There is an element of pastiche that is clearly intentional - and enjoyable.
What I liked most of all was the description of the Cornish countryside. The author revels in the natural world of Southwest England, bringing it to life with originality and brio. If I hadn't already been to Cornwall, I would really want to go after reading this book - though then I would be one of those pesky invading Londoners that some of the characters in The Golden Rule rail against. Eek!
Subtlety may be thin on the ground, but the mimicry of idle conversation is adroit. Some of the conversations sound like transcripts of actual conversations I have overheard regarding the poverty line and Brexit.
I did find myself perplexed, however, by several instances where the whole illusion of reality collapses. For instance, the idea that clothing in charity shops is more affordable to cash-strapped people than Primark - anybody who's been to a charity shop and/or Primark in the last 10 years would know that's not the case. At another point near the end, Hannah says that if you really care about someone you know their number off by heart, to which my reaction was: wait, are these people meant to be modern-day 20-somethings, or 20-somethings from more than a decade ago?
And I think it was instances like these that ultimately ruined The Golden Rule for me, because it ends up reading like somebody in their 50s trying, and failing, to credibly imagine what modern England seems like to someone in their 20s. And since the main point of this book seems to be about encapsulating the polarised world young Brits emerge into, if it's not convincing, it all feels like a hollow sham. To reference another of the book's themes, it plays like a really one-dimensional, unimmersive RPG.
To end on a positive note, describing the sensation you get from kissing someone you're not sure you like as "that strange feeling, like swallowing oysters that might be revolting or delicious" is awesome.
September 11, 2020
This book would have benefitted from more showing and a lot less telling. The author was constantly pushing her characters out of the way to march on and give us yet another lecture about Brexit, the decline of rural communities, the London property market etc etc.
All important subjects worthy of exploration in contemporary literature, but not like this.
Add in a dull main character, a cheesey conclusion and a rambling storyline and this became a dreary read that I dutifully rather than eagerly continued to the end.
All important subjects worthy of exploration in contemporary literature, but not like this.
Add in a dull main character, a cheesey conclusion and a rambling storyline and this became a dreary read that I dutifully rather than eagerly continued to the end.
February 14, 2022
..too much
Stazione di Londra ai giorni nostri.
Hannah sale sul treno per andare in Cornovaglia dalla madre che sta morendo.
Uno stato d’animo, dunque, non certo dei migliori anche per mille altre preoccupazione che l’assillano da quando Jack, suo marito, l’ha lasciata per un’altra donna ed ora si ritrova a fare lavori faticosi per mantenere la loro bambina.
Sale sul treno al volo e si dirige in seconda classe: uno scompartimento affollato e con l’aria condizionata rotta.
Da una porta a vetri intravede la prima classe: uno scompartimento mezzo vuoto e perfettamente climatizzato.
Ad un certo punto il suo sguardo si incontra con quello di una donna bella ed elegante.
In un attimo quella le fa un cenno di raggiungerla e così la vita di Hannah cambia anche se lei ancora non lo sa.
Complice una bottiglia di vino, di lì a poco, le due si saranno scambiate confidenze sui reciproci disastrosi rapporti di coppia e, in men che non si dica, progettano un doppio omicidio..
Ottime le basi che non sono certo originali ma s’ispirano ad un classico della letteratura di genere noi, ossia Sconosciuti in treno di Patricia Highsmith.
Ottimo lo scenario socio economico ma i temi affastellati sono veramente troppi.
Hannah è un personaggio con lo spessore di un cartamodello.
Una cosiddetta millennian (neologismo coniato appositamente per dipingere tutta una generazione ambivalente: o vincenti con grande spirito imprenditoriale da start up oppure “bamboccioni” che non possono permettersi una casa ecc..)
Una laurea nel cassetto, ex marito che da pezzo di merda si è trasformato dopo la nascita della figlia in mostro brutale.
Tutto ci sta, per carità.
La situazione è purtroppo molto realistica.
Interessante è non solo la denuncia della questione di genere per cui una donna può trovarsi in situazioni terribili quando un uomo decide di essere violento (si decide, basta dire che sono malati, vanno curati, capiti ecc.) ma anche la questione sociale.
Quello che trovo interessante in questa storia è il potere assoluto dei soldi:
”Si dice che con i soldi non si compra la felicità, ma questo è il genere di cose che dicono i ricchi per allontanare l’invidia.
Dal punto di vista di Hannah, la ragione per cui valeva la pena di avere denaro era esattamente perché ti permetteva di comprare gli ingredienti della felicità, anche se ci sono persone troppo stupide per amalgamarli insieme.
Perché fingere che non sia così?”
Le disparità sulle retribuzioni, le molestie nei luoghi di lavoro, gli uomini stalker, le difficoltà di una generazione che non riesce a trovare l’indipendenza per le congiunzioni economiche avverse.
Insomma, tutti temi importanti e transnazionali a cui la Craig aggiunge le questioni più british: la Cornovaglia che rappresenta ogni zona periferica lasciata a sé dalla forza accentratrice di Londra ed, ovviamente, la questione della Brexit con tutti gli annessi e connessi.
Insomma, tanta, tanta, roba stipata in una trama che vorrebbe essere noir e finisce .
La ricetta di Amanda Craig è di quelle fatte senza bilancia ma sì sa che solo i cuochi molto bravi sanno mettere le giuste dosi andando ad occhio.
Due stelle anche se non così terribile ma voglio cercare di essere più equilibrata nelle mie valutazioni.
Stazione di Londra ai giorni nostri.
Hannah sale sul treno per andare in Cornovaglia dalla madre che sta morendo.
Uno stato d’animo, dunque, non certo dei migliori anche per mille altre preoccupazione che l’assillano da quando Jack, suo marito, l’ha lasciata per un’altra donna ed ora si ritrova a fare lavori faticosi per mantenere la loro bambina.
Sale sul treno al volo e si dirige in seconda classe: uno scompartimento affollato e con l’aria condizionata rotta.
Da una porta a vetri intravede la prima classe: uno scompartimento mezzo vuoto e perfettamente climatizzato.
Ad un certo punto il suo sguardo si incontra con quello di una donna bella ed elegante.
In un attimo quella le fa un cenno di raggiungerla e così la vita di Hannah cambia anche se lei ancora non lo sa.
Complice una bottiglia di vino, di lì a poco, le due si saranno scambiate confidenze sui reciproci disastrosi rapporti di coppia e, in men che non si dica, progettano un doppio omicidio..
Ottime le basi che non sono certo originali ma s’ispirano ad un classico della letteratura di genere noi, ossia Sconosciuti in treno di Patricia Highsmith.
Ottimo lo scenario socio economico ma i temi affastellati sono veramente troppi.
Hannah è un personaggio con lo spessore di un cartamodello.
Una cosiddetta millennian (neologismo coniato appositamente per dipingere tutta una generazione ambivalente: o vincenti con grande spirito imprenditoriale da start up oppure “bamboccioni” che non possono permettersi una casa ecc..)
Una laurea nel cassetto, ex marito che da pezzo di merda si è trasformato dopo la nascita della figlia in mostro brutale.
Tutto ci sta, per carità.
La situazione è purtroppo molto realistica.
Interessante è non solo la denuncia della questione di genere per cui una donna può trovarsi in situazioni terribili quando un uomo decide di essere violento (si decide, basta dire che sono malati, vanno curati, capiti ecc.) ma anche la questione sociale.
Quello che trovo interessante in questa storia è il potere assoluto dei soldi:
”Si dice che con i soldi non si compra la felicità, ma questo è il genere di cose che dicono i ricchi per allontanare l’invidia.
Dal punto di vista di Hannah, la ragione per cui valeva la pena di avere denaro era esattamente perché ti permetteva di comprare gli ingredienti della felicità, anche se ci sono persone troppo stupide per amalgamarli insieme.
Perché fingere che non sia così?”
Le disparità sulle retribuzioni, le molestie nei luoghi di lavoro, gli uomini stalker, le difficoltà di una generazione che non riesce a trovare l’indipendenza per le congiunzioni economiche avverse.
Insomma, tutti temi importanti e transnazionali a cui la Craig aggiunge le questioni più british: la Cornovaglia che rappresenta ogni zona periferica lasciata a sé dalla forza accentratrice di Londra ed, ovviamente, la questione della Brexit con tutti gli annessi e connessi.
Insomma, tanta, tanta, roba stipata in una trama che vorrebbe essere noir e finisce .
La ricetta di Amanda Craig è di quelle fatte senza bilancia ma sì sa che solo i cuochi molto bravi sanno mettere le giuste dosi andando ad occhio.
Due stelle anche se non così terribile ma voglio cercare di essere più equilibrata nelle mie valutazioni.
January 15, 2021
I have very little positive to say about this novel which was (satirically?) derivative of Highsmith's Strangers on a Train, dragon fairytales, Cinderella and Gothic romantic suspense. The positive, such as it is, is that it highlights domestic violence and the wealth divide. It could be a "clever" social commentary but even if that is the aim, it is not clever enough!
That aside it is a book that teeters back and forth into melodrama as murders are planned, decayed elfin turreted castles are revealed, cliffs bordering beaches with rapidly incoming tides crumble dangerously....and not forgetting the dog, who can always be relied upon!
On top of this I found the read endlessly repetitive. We learn early on that our protagonist, Hannah is a reader. Enough...we are readers and understand but instead pages, dotted through the narrative, are taken up with describing what reading means. That, and the truly endless references to Jane Austen really blew my fuse.
I can't finish my summary without wondering why so much of the book ends up stating the bleedin' obvious and unnecessarily daft frills again and again...Hannah (mid 20s) is given a bunch of roses and has to "remember" flower arranging....Says it all
That aside it is a book that teeters back and forth into melodrama as murders are planned, decayed elfin turreted castles are revealed, cliffs bordering beaches with rapidly incoming tides crumble dangerously....and not forgetting the dog, who can always be relied upon!
On top of this I found the read endlessly repetitive. We learn early on that our protagonist, Hannah is a reader. Enough...we are readers and understand but instead pages, dotted through the narrative, are taken up with describing what reading means. That, and the truly endless references to Jane Austen really blew my fuse.
I can't finish my summary without wondering why so much of the book ends up stating the bleedin' obvious and unnecessarily daft frills again and again...Hannah (mid 20s) is given a bunch of roses and has to "remember" flower arranging....Says it all
June 28, 2023
Hannah’s husband Jake has left her for another woman, and is a bit stingy with child support, so Hannah works as a cleaner to support her six year old daughter Maisie.Then Hannah has to go to Cornwall to visit her dying mother, and on the train meets the beautiful, mysterious Jinni, who has an unusual proposition for her. I found this story quite absorbing, with some interesting characters and a plot that makes you want to keep reading. I particularly liked the way Hannah and Stan both had to revise their opinions of the opposite sex. The descriptions of Cornwall, where most of the story is set, are lovely. I could perhaps have done with a bit less of the political commentary, which I felt didn’t really add anything to the story, but apart from that it held my interest to the end.
March 19, 2021
The Afterward speaks of the inspiration for this book being Alfred Hitchcock's Stranger On A Train, and Beauty And The Beast. A tale of a plot to kill husbands as a way out of messy divorces and abusive relationships. The tale as old as time is not really developed to the point of believability for me.
The protagonist never really warmed to me. So much whining and negative views of the world. The current throughout the book is her poverty, her down-on-her-luck status, and the husband who made her such. I mean, I get trying to paint this dire situation, and totally appreciate the complexities and hardships, but Hannah's helplessness was too unbelievable. Her stubborn views of fiction and reading to guide her life decisions, and complete unopenness to hear other's experience. Ugh. Stan's background also didn't quite make sense to me.
Of course, class was the strong underlay here, and perhaps this is the ever present consideration in Britain? The story of Jinni made me wonder if this was a book to try and present the notion of two sides to every domestic violence and abuse story for awhile - which is entirely unsettling in these current times in both the UK and Australia.
There are also several suspensions of belief needed. The hospital scene wrapped up way too nicely for mine, and the idea that a mother would leave her sick, injured child to be watched by other's whilst she sorted out a dress... Among other connections and incredible coincidences.
There are some strange and puzzling lines, and paragraphs, and I think stronger editing was needed to tighten some of this up. I am pretty surprised this was longlisted for the Women's Prize now - it's a beach holiday read with many holes in the plot and character development.
There were hooks that got me far enough into reading to not give up, but by the final third, I wasn't invested enough to care about what played out.
The protagonist never really warmed to me. So much whining and negative views of the world. The current throughout the book is her poverty, her down-on-her-luck status, and the husband who made her such. I mean, I get trying to paint this dire situation, and totally appreciate the complexities and hardships, but Hannah's helplessness was too unbelievable. Her stubborn views of fiction and reading to guide her life decisions, and complete unopenness to hear other's experience. Ugh. Stan's background also didn't quite make sense to me.
Of course, class was the strong underlay here, and perhaps this is the ever present consideration in Britain? The story of Jinni made me wonder if this was a book to try and present the notion of two sides to every domestic violence and abuse story for awhile - which is entirely unsettling in these current times in both the UK and Australia.
There are also several suspensions of belief needed. The hospital scene wrapped up way too nicely for mine, and the idea that a mother would leave her sick, injured child to be watched by other's whilst she sorted out a dress... Among other connections and incredible coincidences.
There are some strange and puzzling lines, and paragraphs, and I think stronger editing was needed to tighten some of this up. I am pretty surprised this was longlisted for the Women's Prize now - it's a beach holiday read with many holes in the plot and character development.
There were hooks that got me far enough into reading to not give up, but by the final third, I wasn't invested enough to care about what played out.
March 9, 2022
Finishing this book was a chore, which was a real disappointment compared to the enjoyment I've experienced reading some of the other novels on this year's Women's Prize For Fiction longlist.
Jonathan Coe's glowing recommendation on the cover ("Amanda Craig anatomises the state of the nation with wit and empathy") was perhaps missing another part of the sentence '"....but not in this book." The story begins with two women making a Strangers On A Train pact (the inspiration acknowledged by the characters). Hannah is an abused single mum whose Jane Austen fantasies of married life were soon dashed by the pantomime villainy of her posh ex-husband. She heads to her childhood home of Cornwall, where she tries to pluck up courage to carry out the murderous side of the bargain. I understand that the author is playing with tropes and styles - there are shades of Beauty and The Beast and gothic romance alongside the Austen appreciation - but where's the sense of fun that is needed to make this work? The novel's social commentary is also ladled on, with jarring Brexit/rich poor divide polemic that just consists of people randomly giving speeches. The part that completely lost me, however, was
Jonathan Coe's glowing recommendation on the cover ("Amanda Craig anatomises the state of the nation with wit and empathy") was perhaps missing another part of the sentence '"....but not in this book." The story begins with two women making a Strangers On A Train pact (the inspiration acknowledged by the characters). Hannah is an abused single mum whose Jane Austen fantasies of married life were soon dashed by the pantomime villainy of her posh ex-husband. She heads to her childhood home of Cornwall, where she tries to pluck up courage to carry out the murderous side of the bargain. I understand that the author is playing with tropes and styles - there are shades of Beauty and The Beast and gothic romance alongside the Austen appreciation - but where's the sense of fun that is needed to make this work? The novel's social commentary is also ladled on, with jarring Brexit/rich poor divide polemic that just consists of people randomly giving speeches. The part that completely lost me, however, was
July 15, 2020
“The Golden Rule” is written by author Amanda Craig and is a unique take on the famous ‘Strangers on a Train’ novel with a thin thread of social and topical commentary running throughout, focusing on Brexit, regional politics and class divide.
There’s quite a few themes to this literary fiction novel too, divorce, poverty, grief, domestic abuse, politics, #MeToo, Generation Rent, to mention just a few. Although this made for a varied story I did feel certain issues mentioned were a little ‘too deep’ but they did fit the circumstances of the characters so worked to a point.
I was very intrigued by the comment in the story “it would be so much easier to be a widow” and how the author weaved this state of mind into the plot. The thriller aspect of the story had a few twists and turns and though wasn’t the main focus of the story, it did keep the tension and intrigue going. I liked the main character Hannah but I would have liked her to have had a bit more backbone, she was a hard worker and a devoted mother, she just lacked a bit aggression to deal with her bully of an ex husband and his family.
The vivid and in-depth descriptions of Cornwall were beautiful and I could picture the scenery perfectly. The half ruined house at ‘EndPoint’ with all it’s idiosyncrasies created a creepy and sinister setting when Hannah met Stan there for the first time.
Not an out and out thriller but a decent working on Hitchcock’s/ Highsmith’s famous thriller and having read this author’s work for the first time, I’d be more than happy to read more by her again.
There’s quite a few themes to this literary fiction novel too, divorce, poverty, grief, domestic abuse, politics, #MeToo, Generation Rent, to mention just a few. Although this made for a varied story I did feel certain issues mentioned were a little ‘too deep’ but they did fit the circumstances of the characters so worked to a point.
I was very intrigued by the comment in the story “it would be so much easier to be a widow” and how the author weaved this state of mind into the plot. The thriller aspect of the story had a few twists and turns and though wasn’t the main focus of the story, it did keep the tension and intrigue going. I liked the main character Hannah but I would have liked her to have had a bit more backbone, she was a hard worker and a devoted mother, she just lacked a bit aggression to deal with her bully of an ex husband and his family.
The vivid and in-depth descriptions of Cornwall were beautiful and I could picture the scenery perfectly. The half ruined house at ‘EndPoint’ with all it’s idiosyncrasies created a creepy and sinister setting when Hannah met Stan there for the first time.
Not an out and out thriller but a decent working on Hitchcock’s/ Highsmith’s famous thriller and having read this author’s work for the first time, I’d be more than happy to read more by her again.
January 26, 2021
This month marks the centenary of Patricia Highsmith's birth so I recently rewatched Hitchcock's 'Strangers on a Train'. I also read Amanda Craig's most recent novel “The Golden Rule” as its plot is a modern interpretation of this classic Highsmith story. However, instead of two men meeting by chance, Craig's novel begins with two women from different social classes meeting on a train to Cornwall. Hannah is a single mother who is struggling to pay the rent in London and travelling back to her childhood home as her mother is dying of cancer. Here she encounters Jinni who invites Hannah to join her in the first class carriage and instantly wins her over with her glamorous demeanour and sympathetic story about her horrid husband who has left bruises on her arm. After a few glasses of wine and having a long intimate chat about their estranged abusive husbands they hatch a plan to dispose of each other's wicked spouses. It's a simple plan, but murder is never simple or easy.
Read my full review of The Golden Rule by Amanda Craig on LonesomeReader
Read my full review of The Golden Rule by Amanda Craig on LonesomeReader
April 22, 2021
This is a novel about a woman contemplating killing a man because her ex-husband has left her not as rich as she’d like. She seems to think she is actually living in poverty, which is unfair and cannot be allowed because she is just better than all the other poors she talks so condescendingly about. It’s not about social inequality or anything, it’s that She Deserves More. Craig seems to suspect that she does not have my sympathy and introduces the detail that the ex is domestically violent. Unfortunately this is lazily done, merely cynical emotional manipulation designed to garner my sympathies, and is clearly not the main character’s motivation. Also, it reads as though she has done zero research into the topic, which is not great.
Meanwhile endless pages are spent on a dissection of the rising property prices and economic tribulations of Cornwall. These digressions take the place of any plot development, as little happens for huge portions of the book once we are past the set-up of the “murder pact”, which was already laid out in the blurb. Instead our judgemental protagonist stumbles around achieving nothing and hanging well behind the reader in understanding what little is happening, leading to a frustrating read. Supposedly surprise turns are glaringly obvious, and events are on a level with bad Point Horror clichés. Or maybe even a Point Romance. Two ‘twists’ rely on the exact same device – confusion caused by multiple nicknames for the same person. This is pretty weak the first time, and embarrassing the second.
The stupidity of our protagonist Hannah, who genuinely considers killing someone by giving them a bad scare, is frustrating. But worse are the weird snobbish and racist undertones. Terms like “legions” and “dregs” are used to describe the undesirables who are spoiling Cornwall. There is mention of how white people are being ignored. Muslims appear solely to oppress women. Also, there’s a weird part where our heroine seems to wonder if her ex-husband’s misogyny is rooted in homosexuality, and then links that to him having being abused as a child. Perhaps that wasn’t what was intended, but if not then I’m at a loss as to what I was supposed to take from that part. It certainly seems extremely problematic. But there again I’ve possibly completely misunderstood it, as sometimes I have no idea what the author is talking about. For example, what does “She’a a sport of nature like me.” mean? There are no context clues to help me out.
Another irritation for me are the characters with names like Loveday, Constantine Coad, and Ivo Sponge. Everybody acts like this is totally normal. Ivo Sponge?? It sounds like a Drag Queen pun name that I can’t quite decipher. Plus this novel features the sort of suspiciously angelic and precocious fictional child who is conveniently out of the way for the majority of the story, but occasionally appears to point out with cloying cuteness how beautiful mummy looks, show how kind and worthy a man a love interest is by having a charming playtime scene with him, hand over a plot point or be a vessel for drama.
The plot seems to move in circles for hundreds of pages, as Cornish people explain Cornwall to each other for my benefit, and we re-cover the well-trodden ground of how old houses get to look tatty and how they should be staged for sale. The same conversations happen over and over again – the debate over whether the main male character is a Bad Man or a Good Man; the history of how a man inherited a house from his father, who was an alcoholic; the reiteration of Hannan’s superiority over the masses because she reads books; the endlessly re-trodden question of whether videogames are comparable to novels as a form of art (Why is this an issue? It seems to concern everyone. By which I mean, it seems to obsess Craig and thus every one of her characters has to weigh in with the same opinions).
At one point we even get a brief critique of the novel being copied, Strangers on a Train, which seems audacious and unwise. Otherwise it’s mainly pages and pages of the reflections of our dull-minded and self-pitying protagonist, as she fails to take any interest in the world around her and complains at length about how difficult her life is and how nobody appreciates how wonderful she is for raising a child. She also slowly and predictably falls in love with the man she is supposed to be killing, because in between taking advantage of her he remembers to flatter her. Meanwhile the reader is treated to offensive, reactionary and bizarre statements like “if anyone would understand the mystery and beauty of Endpoint [a Cornish house], it might be someone from the Far East” and “Christian churches were now the last line of defence against the indifference and stupidity of successive governments of different political stripes”
One of the more painful parts is the love interest’s attempts to get my sympathy for his domestic abuse by complaining about how he was forced by his abuser to take up “mindfulness classes and being woke rather than, you know, having a conscience and trying to be a decent person” How are those things diametrically opposed? Why is this a feature of domestic abuse? I assume that a certain type of person is being spoken to here and understands this, but it’s a dog-whistle I can’t hear. He also talks of how his ex-wife was such a monster she got angry at him for looking at other women in the street, even though every normal man does so. So many problematic layers there. Hannah of course agrees. Poor men ☹ This isn’t surprising, as she is the sort of woman who makes unexamined remarks like “for a woman there are occasions when clothes are all that stand between happiness and misery” and shows no interest in her fellow women until a man badly treats her and she goes running to them for help.
The overall arc is that of a protagonist completely unable to see anything outside of her very narrow purview, who has almost no agency in the story, choosing to merely stand about whilst things happen, and generally not trouble herself as to why. As the novel proceeds she briefly considers that maybe her problems might be symptomatic of wider social problems, but then realises that actually no, everything is all about her and the status quo should be preserved. She is rewarded for her conformity by the convenient appearance of large amounts of money and the man she requires, and somehow manages to accidentally save her hometown by force of being a good, quiet woman who’s good at cleaning. The gloating satisfaction of her thinking “Money was not magic; but it was perhaps the closest thing, if used wisely and well” as everyone and everything scrambles to help her is in very poor taste at best.
For me, this is a triumph of conventionality and small-mindedness mis-sold as being about a murder plot when in fact it’s a massively dull romance about the most boring woman in the world having everything magically work out for her. It also had an absolutely ridiculous ending, although admittedly my patience had worn pretty thin by then so maybe I was more intolerant than necessary.
Meanwhile endless pages are spent on a dissection of the rising property prices and economic tribulations of Cornwall. These digressions take the place of any plot development, as little happens for huge portions of the book once we are past the set-up of the “murder pact”, which was already laid out in the blurb. Instead our judgemental protagonist stumbles around achieving nothing and hanging well behind the reader in understanding what little is happening, leading to a frustrating read. Supposedly surprise turns are glaringly obvious, and events are on a level with bad Point Horror clichés. Or maybe even a Point Romance. Two ‘twists’ rely on the exact same device – confusion caused by multiple nicknames for the same person. This is pretty weak the first time, and embarrassing the second.
The stupidity of our protagonist Hannah, who genuinely considers killing someone by giving them a bad scare, is frustrating. But worse are the weird snobbish and racist undertones. Terms like “legions” and “dregs” are used to describe the undesirables who are spoiling Cornwall. There is mention of how white people are being ignored. Muslims appear solely to oppress women. Also, there’s a weird part where our heroine seems to wonder if her ex-husband’s misogyny is rooted in homosexuality, and then links that to him having being abused as a child. Perhaps that wasn’t what was intended, but if not then I’m at a loss as to what I was supposed to take from that part. It certainly seems extremely problematic. But there again I’ve possibly completely misunderstood it, as sometimes I have no idea what the author is talking about. For example, what does “She’a a sport of nature like me.” mean? There are no context clues to help me out.
Another irritation for me are the characters with names like Loveday, Constantine Coad, and Ivo Sponge. Everybody acts like this is totally normal. Ivo Sponge?? It sounds like a Drag Queen pun name that I can’t quite decipher. Plus this novel features the sort of suspiciously angelic and precocious fictional child who is conveniently out of the way for the majority of the story, but occasionally appears to point out with cloying cuteness how beautiful mummy looks, show how kind and worthy a man a love interest is by having a charming playtime scene with him, hand over a plot point or be a vessel for drama.
The plot seems to move in circles for hundreds of pages, as Cornish people explain Cornwall to each other for my benefit, and we re-cover the well-trodden ground of how old houses get to look tatty and how they should be staged for sale. The same conversations happen over and over again – the debate over whether the main male character is a Bad Man or a Good Man; the history of how a man inherited a house from his father, who was an alcoholic; the reiteration of Hannan’s superiority over the masses because she reads books; the endlessly re-trodden question of whether videogames are comparable to novels as a form of art (Why is this an issue? It seems to concern everyone. By which I mean, it seems to obsess Craig and thus every one of her characters has to weigh in with the same opinions).
At one point we even get a brief critique of the novel being copied, Strangers on a Train, which seems audacious and unwise. Otherwise it’s mainly pages and pages of the reflections of our dull-minded and self-pitying protagonist, as she fails to take any interest in the world around her and complains at length about how difficult her life is and how nobody appreciates how wonderful she is for raising a child. She also slowly and predictably falls in love with the man she is supposed to be killing, because in between taking advantage of her he remembers to flatter her. Meanwhile the reader is treated to offensive, reactionary and bizarre statements like “if anyone would understand the mystery and beauty of Endpoint [a Cornish house], it might be someone from the Far East” and “Christian churches were now the last line of defence against the indifference and stupidity of successive governments of different political stripes”
One of the more painful parts is the love interest’s attempts to get my sympathy for his domestic abuse by complaining about how he was forced by his abuser to take up “mindfulness classes and being woke rather than, you know, having a conscience and trying to be a decent person” How are those things diametrically opposed? Why is this a feature of domestic abuse? I assume that a certain type of person is being spoken to here and understands this, but it’s a dog-whistle I can’t hear. He also talks of how his ex-wife was such a monster she got angry at him for looking at other women in the street, even though every normal man does so. So many problematic layers there. Hannah of course agrees. Poor men ☹ This isn’t surprising, as she is the sort of woman who makes unexamined remarks like “for a woman there are occasions when clothes are all that stand between happiness and misery” and shows no interest in her fellow women until a man badly treats her and she goes running to them for help.
The overall arc is that of a protagonist completely unable to see anything outside of her very narrow purview, who has almost no agency in the story, choosing to merely stand about whilst things happen, and generally not trouble herself as to why. As the novel proceeds she briefly considers that maybe her problems might be symptomatic of wider social problems, but then realises that actually no, everything is all about her and the status quo should be preserved. She is rewarded for her conformity by the convenient appearance of large amounts of money and the man she requires, and somehow manages to accidentally save her hometown by force of being a good, quiet woman who’s good at cleaning. The gloating satisfaction of her thinking “Money was not magic; but it was perhaps the closest thing, if used wisely and well” as everyone and everything scrambles to help her is in very poor taste at best.
For me, this is a triumph of conventionality and small-mindedness mis-sold as being about a murder plot when in fact it’s a massively dull romance about the most boring woman in the world having everything magically work out for her. It also had an absolutely ridiculous ending, although admittedly my patience had worn pretty thin by then so maybe I was more intolerant than necessary.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 28, 2020
This started off with such promise. Strong characterisation, exciting plot. Jake was clearly a villain, given his sexist attitudes to literature. Lots of layers: how would the choice of the choice of the Burne-Jones picture resonate? What was significant about the oft mentioned kill-switch on the car? (Turns out nothing.) What was going to happen with the blow-hole on the cliff top, a Chekhov's gun crying out to be fired? Lot's of parallels: Stan as Mr Rochester, Stan as Beast etc.
Started going down hill when the author kept on trying to ramp up the idea that Hannah might yet kill Stan. We knew she wouldn't. She knew she wouldn't.
I guessed by pg 70 that . But I thought Jake was in on it too: murder Stan, then frame Hannah. Both partners disposed of. And I still think that would have made a more exciting story. Because the final third of this book just fell apart.
I know it's fiction, but things have to ring true. Stan, Hannah and Maisie are missing for 6 hours and get back to find a kitchen full of people - but no search party! No coast guards going up and down the Cornish coast.
Jinni has abducted and tried to murder a child, and everyone just shrugs and goes "ah well, she'll be half-way to Newquay airport by now so never mind."
The idea of letting other relatives take your unconscious 3 year old to the hospital and you'd follow on once you'd had a kip.
And then it wasn't just deus ex machina in the final few chapters: it was the whole blooming pantheon! She gets the perfect job in a non-sexist company, a lovely new flat in a better area, inherits £120k from her mum and unknown thousands from her father, she gets a great divorce settlement. She even transforms her downtrodden neighbour's life. I know there were fairy-tale parallels going on, in particular Beauty and the Beast, but it all felt weak, particularly when the author had done such a good job of establishing how poor and trapped many people are in the UK.
There is nothing more important than love. The fairy-tale happy ending is about the loving relationship. The job, the money - they're not really important. Is this because a Proper Writer shies away from the idea of writing what is, at heart, a romance? And whilst we can make assumptions that Stan and Hannah will get together, it's not explicit. It's not resolved. Hannah still loves London, Stan still loves Cornwall. How's that one going to work out?
Started going down hill when the author kept on trying to ramp up the idea that Hannah might yet kill Stan. We knew she wouldn't. She knew she wouldn't.
I guessed by pg 70 that . But I thought Jake was in on it too: murder Stan, then frame Hannah. Both partners disposed of. And I still think that would have made a more exciting story. Because the final third of this book just fell apart.
I know it's fiction, but things have to ring true. Stan, Hannah and Maisie are missing for 6 hours and get back to find a kitchen full of people - but no search party! No coast guards going up and down the Cornish coast.
Jinni has abducted and tried to murder a child, and everyone just shrugs and goes "ah well, she'll be half-way to Newquay airport by now so never mind."
The idea of letting other relatives take your unconscious 3 year old to the hospital and you'd follow on once you'd had a kip.
And then it wasn't just deus ex machina in the final few chapters: it was the whole blooming pantheon! She gets the perfect job in a non-sexist company, a lovely new flat in a better area, inherits £120k from her mum and unknown thousands from her father, she gets a great divorce settlement. She even transforms her downtrodden neighbour's life. I know there were fairy-tale parallels going on, in particular Beauty and the Beast, but it all felt weak, particularly when the author had done such a good job of establishing how poor and trapped many people are in the UK.
There is nothing more important than love. The fairy-tale happy ending is about the loving relationship. The job, the money - they're not really important. Is this because a Proper Writer shies away from the idea of writing what is, at heart, a romance? And whilst we can make assumptions that Stan and Hannah will get together, it's not explicit. It's not resolved. Hannah still loves London, Stan still loves Cornwall. How's that one going to work out?
July 12, 2020
What a disappointment. A glorified Mills and Boone with so much "political" commentary - from Brexit, to women's rights to race, to social standing. It truly nauseated me.
The narrative became completely 'lost' in the postulating.
I did not enjoy this book.
The narrative became completely 'lost' in the postulating.
I did not enjoy this book.
January 4, 2021
Another complex modern fairy tale from Amanda Craig - where the ancient sources of human myth inform the present in all kinds of unexpected ways. It's one of those novels that appears to depict gritty realism and kitchen sink drama but many of the characters are more mythic monster or evil spirit than real flesh and blood people - the shimmery veil between modern reality and timeless weirdness is very thin. I love the way in Craig's imagination the fabulous marches alongside reality without it seeming odd at all. The politics that other readers have mentioned simply highlight the reality of inequality - often a source of tension in fiction throughout history. Hannah is a kind of knowing innocent - a pretty clever girl bought up in a constrained circumstances by a single mother, who breaks free and goes to university. Unfortunately like many a fairytale heroine, her path out of her stifling background does not go according to plan and she ends up the victim of types of people she does not understand at all. Inspired by Patricia Highsmith's dark tale Strangers on a Train, the two female protagonists meet in the liminal anonymity of a train to swap angry tales of male let-down. What happens next, you will have to see - but the plot bounces along holding me beguiled all the while. It plays out very differently from the Highsmith original however....
March 2, 2020
This is the first novel I have read by Amanda Craig and I can fully understand why her work is so popular.
This is an impeccably plotted and beautifully written story about a young woman in Hannah who finally throws off the shackles of an abusive marriage, enters into a bizarre mutual homicide pact with a mysterious woman on a train to kill each other's appalling husbands.
Everything is not quite as it seems and there are several twists and turns before Hannah's fortunes deservedly turn for the better and she finds herself and happiness.
This is a thriller and an acute portrayal of how marriages go bad and the torment, hardship and cruelty that divorce can bring.
Most of all it is a love story and not just that between Hannah and her new partner despite the unfortunate start they get off to and the long gestation period of their relationship - no more spoilers to be provided - but it is a love of Cornwall, its splendours and pure beauty and the sense of community it engenders amongst its residents.
This is ultimately a book that warms the heart and raises the spirits and I highly recommend it.
This is an impeccably plotted and beautifully written story about a young woman in Hannah who finally throws off the shackles of an abusive marriage, enters into a bizarre mutual homicide pact with a mysterious woman on a train to kill each other's appalling husbands.
Everything is not quite as it seems and there are several twists and turns before Hannah's fortunes deservedly turn for the better and she finds herself and happiness.
This is a thriller and an acute portrayal of how marriages go bad and the torment, hardship and cruelty that divorce can bring.
Most of all it is a love story and not just that between Hannah and her new partner despite the unfortunate start they get off to and the long gestation period of their relationship - no more spoilers to be provided - but it is a love of Cornwall, its splendours and pure beauty and the sense of community it engenders amongst its residents.
This is ultimately a book that warms the heart and raises the spirits and I highly recommend it.
April 15, 2021
By the time I'd slogged my way through to the end of this, I wondered if I'd read an unedited draft by mistake rather than the finished published product. There was just so much stuff in here, I wanted to cross out huge sections with a red pen. I read it because it was longlisted for the Women's Prize and was quite intrigued by the Strangers on a Train inspiration, but that fizzled out quickly after a 'twist' that was so obvious that I assumed that be another one later. On top of a slight improbable plot, the author piled on social commentary on a whole host of subjects - none of which I actually disagree with but it was laid on so thickly, in such a diadatic manner, leaving nothing for the reader to mull over themselves. And everything so neatly tied up at the end, even for minor characters that I didn't care about, I just wanted it to end. 2 stars because I didn't mind the first 100 pages.
August 20, 2022
Sorry but god this was awful. Overwritten, all over the place, boring and condescending. Main character is self righteous to the extreme, and the author decided to fill this book with endless comments about brexit, renting, social mobility etc etc etc. Even had a few jabs at vegans for whatever reason. The most tedious form of social commentary I’ve ever encountered
July 28, 2020
All this author's sharp social observations are squandered by her bossy narrative voice. She lines her characters up then talks noisily over them. In fact there is so little showing and so much telling that the novel lost me halfway through and this was a DNF.
June 28, 2021
And here I thought the ‘Golden Rule’ of writing was “show, don’t tell”.
May 2, 2021
I read this quite greedily, in two sittings, but was left feeling slightly disappointed. Amanda Craig is an excellent story teller but this plot requires a significant level of suspension of disbelief. The central character, Hannah, is very credible and her serious determination to be a good mother and make something of her life in the face of considerable difficulty is admirable. Her love of reading and struggle to find the time must resonate for many of us. But she is placed in a web of coincidence and mystery that does not ring true. As a character, she has to shoulder much of the burden of the author's somewhat didactic social and political commentary but the Mills & Boon romance aspect of the plot sits uneasily beside this. Other characters are rather more two dimensional: the class divide is important to the story but is illustrated by stereotypes. For a book aspiring to deal with big social issues, I found the ending unconvincing: Hannah's practical problems are solved quite magically with a bit of cash. The choice of Cornwall as a backdrop is clever because it illustrates the issues the book tries to illuminate but, like the resolution to Hannah's situation, the future for the declining town of St Piran becomes upbeat with the injection of some friendly foreign money.
But the writing is very good: descriptions of the two dimensional characters are often encapsulated in some brilliantly barbed sentences. Sadly, as so often these days, poor copy editing spoils the reading experience.
Amanda Craig has achieved something rather clever: while each of her novels stands alone, characters recur in an unexpected way. Encountering familiar names as a new story unfolds is almost like meeting old friends and every time it happens makes me want to reread earlier books to join the dots and watch the progression of these people as they move from centre stage in one story to minor roles in later books - much more interesting than the usual series of books which give the same characters central roles every time.
But the writing is very good: descriptions of the two dimensional characters are often encapsulated in some brilliantly barbed sentences. Sadly, as so often these days, poor copy editing spoils the reading experience.
Amanda Craig has achieved something rather clever: while each of her novels stands alone, characters recur in an unexpected way. Encountering familiar names as a new story unfolds is almost like meeting old friends and every time it happens makes me want to reread earlier books to join the dots and watch the progression of these people as they move from centre stage in one story to minor roles in later books - much more interesting than the usual series of books which give the same characters central roles every time.
June 16, 2022
Despite a few parts that strained credibility, I still enjoyed this quite a bit. It would make a suspenseful film.
July 16, 2020
I was disappointed with this book, after having been looking forward to its publication I had greatly enjoyed Amanda Craig’s previous novels, and made a point of trekking down to Daunt Books to buy a signed copy. However, I found it so heavily strewn with anti-man comments and sentiments that I almost gave up.
Sadly, I am sure that many of her characters’ views may be all too representative of the experiences that far too many women undergo, and I won’t attempt to deny the transgressions of my gender. That did not, however, prevent me from feeling worn down by the continual references, and at several points I nearly gave up and started reading something else instead.
Perhaps that pervasive context predisposed me against it, but I didn’t think it was as good as I have come to expect from Amanda Craig. I was surprised, for one thing, not to find more empathy for the protagonist, Hannah Penrose, who has certainly battled relentless adversity as she struggles to bring up her daughter on her own, with no help at all from her ex-husband. I have generally found Craig’s leading women to be immediately engaging characters, but I never succeeded in making the leap of faith in Hannah. This was despite her constant reaffirmation of herself as a reader, and champion of other readers. In fact, that may have been symptomatic of my difficulties with this book. In this aspect, even though I support the sentiment, I found it simply too ‘preachy’.
The plot lacked a lot of the dexterity that I have come to associate with Amanda Craig, too. It might most easily be summarised as a blend of Strangers on a Train and Beauty and the Beast. That is, of course, a crass simplification, although it carries a kernel of truth.
I don't think I can be bothered to say much more - I feel as if I have already exerted more energy than the book merits simply in reading it.
Sadly, I am sure that many of her characters’ views may be all too representative of the experiences that far too many women undergo, and I won’t attempt to deny the transgressions of my gender. That did not, however, prevent me from feeling worn down by the continual references, and at several points I nearly gave up and started reading something else instead.
Perhaps that pervasive context predisposed me against it, but I didn’t think it was as good as I have come to expect from Amanda Craig. I was surprised, for one thing, not to find more empathy for the protagonist, Hannah Penrose, who has certainly battled relentless adversity as she struggles to bring up her daughter on her own, with no help at all from her ex-husband. I have generally found Craig’s leading women to be immediately engaging characters, but I never succeeded in making the leap of faith in Hannah. This was despite her constant reaffirmation of herself as a reader, and champion of other readers. In fact, that may have been symptomatic of my difficulties with this book. In this aspect, even though I support the sentiment, I found it simply too ‘preachy’.
The plot lacked a lot of the dexterity that I have come to associate with Amanda Craig, too. It might most easily be summarised as a blend of Strangers on a Train and Beauty and the Beast. That is, of course, a crass simplification, although it carries a kernel of truth.
I don't think I can be bothered to say much more - I feel as if I have already exerted more energy than the book merits simply in reading it.
January 11, 2023
Bit of a theme emerging with my reviews of Amanda Craig books. I had a look at the Lie of the Land and I stated that I remain a big fan, although this is a bit of a mish mash and overload of ideas.
The same could be applied to this - The Golden Rule.
First off, I inwardly groaned at the premise. A young woman (Hannah) meets a stranger on a train and they hitch a plan to kill their respective partners. I suppose if you are going to rip off an idea, it might as well be a classic in Strangers on a Train.
We then move on to a thriller, that has a strong state of the nation message. My rules for thrillers are "does it sound plausible" and "would the characters act in the way they do?". The answer to both here is a firm no. Hannah agrees to the plan, takes a taser and heads off to Cornwall to bump off the strangers partner. It doesnt quite work out and she ends up helping her mark renovate his house. Further thriller activities follow - and although barely credible, they are well handled and makes for a good read.
Wrapped around this is a huge amount of state of the nation ideas and riffing. Everything from Women in the Workplace, to Second Homes, Housing Crisis, Domestic Abuse, class, opportunity, divorce, motherhood is covered. Sometimes it feels haphazard.
Its a good read - a strong three, but soz, I cannot forgive the unoriginality of the premise, even when acknowledged in the afterword notes - and a lot cleverer than many in the genre.
The same could be applied to this - The Golden Rule.
First off, I inwardly groaned at the premise. A young woman (Hannah) meets a stranger on a train and they hitch a plan to kill their respective partners. I suppose if you are going to rip off an idea, it might as well be a classic in Strangers on a Train.
We then move on to a thriller, that has a strong state of the nation message. My rules for thrillers are "does it sound plausible" and "would the characters act in the way they do?". The answer to both here is a firm no. Hannah agrees to the plan, takes a taser and heads off to Cornwall to bump off the strangers partner. It doesnt quite work out and she ends up helping her mark renovate his house. Further thriller activities follow - and although barely credible, they are well handled and makes for a good read.
Wrapped around this is a huge amount of state of the nation ideas and riffing. Everything from Women in the Workplace, to Second Homes, Housing Crisis, Domestic Abuse, class, opportunity, divorce, motherhood is covered. Sometimes it feels haphazard.
Its a good read - a strong three, but soz, I cannot forgive the unoriginality of the premise, even when acknowledged in the afterword notes - and a lot cleverer than many in the genre.
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