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Randall's review

The Thirteenth Tale: A Novel
by Diane Setterfield

Randall's review
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The thread of suspense is a very delicate one. Prolong the suspense too much and the reader loses interest before the reveal, the thread is broken. If you do not build up enough, the thread is not taut; the reader has nothing to cling to.
Regrettably, The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield is in the former category. A story within a story, Tale follows the history of Vida Winter, as told to Margaret Lea (who has demons of her own to battle). Winter is Britain’s most celebrated and reclusive author. She has never before shared the true story of her life to anyone, and (predictably) on her death bed, summons Lea to chronicle her life before she succumbs.
Lea is a lover of books, and when she is not sitting audience with celebrity authors in their decline, she works with her father in a book shop. It is when Lea talks about books that her character shines, more so than the sections dealing with her own ghosts.
Winter’s own story is very interesting, but suffers from the cage o...more The thread of suspense is a very delicate one. Prolong the suspense too much and the reader loses interest before the reveal, the thread is broken. If you do not build up enough, the thread is not taut; the reader has nothing to cling to.
Regrettably, The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield is in the former category. A story within a story, Tale follows the history of Vida Winter, as told to Margaret Lea (who has demons of her own to battle). Winter is Britain’s most celebrated and reclusive author. She has never before shared the true story of her life to anyone, and (predictably) on her death bed, summons Lea to chronicle her life before she succumbs.
Lea is a lover of books, and when she is not sitting audience with celebrity authors in their decline, she works with her father in a book shop. It is when Lea talks about books that her character shines, more so than the sections dealing with her own ghosts.
Winter’s own story is very interesting, but suffers from the cage of the narrative. The story is interrupted by asides from Lea, which pull you right out of the story. Setterfield did this to create suspense, but it doesn’t work. Winter’s narrative also shifts from third (they) to second (we) to first (I) person narrative, which convolutes the story more, especially since Lea is always in first person. This comes across as a literary gimmick (the reason for the shift becomes apparent in the conclusion), and the result is lacking.
Added to this muddled mess are several sub plots: the aforementioned Lea has a secret, a lovable townsperson who may or may not have a familial connection to Ms. Winter, and the destruction of the family estate in which Winter grew up. All of these tie in at the end, but are not needed, as they shed little light on the characters themselves or the plot.
Right around page 300 or so, the diary of Ms. Winter’s old governess makes an appearance, which adds another layer of story. One layer too many, it turns out, as this is the point in which the thread of suspense snaps.
One bright light in the novel is the setting. Winter’s home and also the estate she grew up in are descried in rich detail. You can almost smell the gardens outside and feel the warmth of the hearth. One wishes Setterfield had done as good a job on the characters as she does on the locales.
The conclusion of the novel is not that surprising, in fact it’s very Deus Ex Machina, a little too neat and tidy. Winter literally finishes her story and dies. Setterfield may have been trying to emulate the maudlin and melodramatic feel of the classics she references so often throughout the tale, but the result is often forced and not very attractive.
It is difficult to work the love of books into a suspenseful story, but not impossible (As The Shadow of the Wind proves), Setterfield, however, is simply not up to the task.

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