Madness, greed, love, obsession, Machiavellian plotting, and a great train robbery, in a captivating Victorian mystery about the extreme and curious things men do to get—and keep—what they want

August 1863. Henry Ireland, a failed landowner, dies unexpectedly in a riding accident, leaving a highly strung young widow. Not far away lives Ireland's friend James Dixey, a celebrated naturalist who collects strange trophies—a stuffed bear, a pet mouse, and a wolf that he keeps caged in the grounds of his decaying house, lost in the fog on the edge of the fens.

The poachers, Dewar and Dunbar, with their cargo of pilfered eggs; Esther the observant kitchen maid, pining to be reunited with her vanished admirer; the ancient lawyer Mr. Crabbe, made careless by snobbery; John Carstairs, in search of his cousin, the elusive widow; an enigmatic debt-collector, busily plotting an audacious robbery; various lowlife henchmen; a beady-eyed country curate who sees more than he should; and Captain McTurk of Scotland Yard, patiently investigating the circumstances of Mr. Ireland's death and many other things besides—all are drawn into a net of intrigue with wide and sinister implications.

Ranging from the loch-sides of Scotland to the slums of Clerkenwell, from the gentlemen's clubs of St. James's to the Yukon wilds, Kept is a gorgeously intricate novel about the urge to possess, at once a gripping investigation of some of the secret chambers of the human heart and a dazzling reinvention of Victorian life and passions.

Everything about this book is just right: from the Thackerayan illustrated initial letters that decorate each chapter opening, to the fluid intelligent tone, and the broad grasp of subject. Taylor points out that, from a biographer's point of view, Thackeray presents an "elusive, or even protean" character; a function of the vigorous compartmentalisation that he undertook in his life.

However, Taylor provides a convincing a sense of him. His wife confined to an insane asylum, he fell in love with Jane Brookfield, the wife of a friend; a passion which lasted throughout his life, which cost him his friendship and which brought him a great deal of melancholy as well as joy. Taylor is particularly touching in the latter part of his biography, sketching in this unfulfilled love affair.

His accounts of the novels are good too; and he pauses at moments in the chronological flow to ponder questions such as "Why Thackeray Matters?" The greatest praise of this fine biography is that you come away in no doubt that Thackeray matters a great deal. --Adam Roberts