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A Small Dark Quiet
March, 1945. The ravaged face of London will soon be painted with victory, but for Sylvie, the private battle for peace is just beginning. When one of her twins is stillborn, she is faced with a consuming grief for the child she never had a chance to hold. A Small Dark Quiet follows a mother as she struggles to find the courage to rebuild her life and care for an orphan whom she and her husband, Gerald, adopt two years later. Born in a concentration camp, the orphan’s early years appear punctuated with frail speculations, opening up a haunting space that draws Sylvie to bring him into parallel with the child she lost. When she gives the orphan the stillborn child’s name, this unwittingly entangles him in a grief he will never be able to console. His own name has been erased, his origins blurred. Arthur’s preverbal trauma begins to merge with the loss he carries for Sylvie, released in nightmares and fragments of emerging memories to make his life that of a boy he never knew. He learns all about ‘that other little Arthur’, yearning both to become him and to free himself from his ghost. He can neither fit the shape of the life that has been lost nor grow into the one his adopted father has carved out for him. As the novel unfolds over the next twenty years, Arthur becomes curious about his Jewish heritage, but fears what this might entail – drawn towards it, it seems he might find a sense of communion and acceptance, but the chorus of persecutory voices he has internalised becomes too overwhelming to bear. He is threatened as a child with being sent back where he belongs but no one can tell him where this is. He wanders as an adult looking for purpose but is unable to find his place. Feeling an imposter both at home and in the city, Arthur’s yearning for that sense of belonging echoes in our own time. Meeting Lydia seems to offer Arthur the opportunity to recast himself, yet all too soon he is trapped in a repetition of what he was trying to escape. A past he can neither recall nor forget lives on within him even as he strives to forge a life for himself. Survival, though, insists Arthur keeps searching and as he opens himself to the world around him, there are flashes of just how resilient the human heart can be. Through Sylvie’s unprocessed grief and Arthur’s acute sense of displacement, A Small Dark Quiet explores how the compulsion to fill the empty space death leaves behind ultimately makes the devastating void more acute. Yet however frail, the instinct for empathy and hope persists in this powerful story of loss, migration and the search for belonging.
- GenresHistorical Fiction
336 pages, Unknown Binding
First published December 4, 2018
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Displaying 1 - 17 of 17 reviews
December 7, 2018
A Small Dark Quiet, by Miranda Gold, is a tale of people damaged by war and grief, who leave a legacy of suffering in the families they raise. The dislocation of the characters and their resolute but often failed attempts to integrate in a structured society make this a challenging read.
The story opens in London, 1945, just a few weeks before the end of the Second World War. Sylvie has given birth to twin boys – Harry and Arthur – but only one has lived. The body of little Arthur was removed, disposed of before his mother could even hold him. In a country where many mothers will never again see their beloved children, where a city and its people have suffered so much loss and destruction, Sylvie is admonished – told she should be feeling grateful for her surviving child.
Sylvie had little time to get to know her husband, Gerald, before he went off to fight in the war. She had travelled to London for work and a new life, and been swept away by his courtship. With only brief periods of leave during the war years, Sylvie’s mother-in-law made pointed allusions to the legitimacy of the babies during her pregnancy.
Gerald’s father returned from his earlier war a broken man and eventually could no longer be cared for at home so was taken to live in an institution – an abiding source of shame for his son. Sylvie is warned by his wife to get over her grief and be sure to welcome Gerald back home with calm and open arms.
Gerald eventually returns, affected by the war but determined to hold his nerve and still his shaking hands. He is dismayed that his smiling wife has also changed. To cure Sylvie’s enduring grief at the loss of their baby he suggests they adopt one of the orphaned children from abroad being offered by the government as part of their post-war negotiations. The couple take in a boy who is the same age as Harry and rename him Arthur.
Sylvie is kind to this second Arthur who harbours buried memories of the violent deaths he witnessed in his first few years of life. She tells him stories of her little Arthur that affect him deeply. Gerald struggles to contain his impatience with this small, frightened boy who is so different from his brother. In fits of suppressed rage Gerald pours forth words that shape Arthur’s sense of worth and self.
The tale moves forward along several time frames in parallel. These include memories of the boys’ childhood and Sylvie’s gradual disintegration. Gerald tries to turn his sons into little soldiers whilst denying their Jewish heritage – he saw too plainly what can happen to practising Jews in times of conflict. As a teenager Arthur secretly explores the world of the synagogue. I was unsure what to make of this religious segment which felt unnecessarily prolonged given its importance in the wider plot progression.
Of more interest in these childhood chapters was how the boys were treated by Sylvie before she gave herself up to her enduring grief, and how Gerald struggled to cope with a family that did not match the standard he himself was working so hard to attain. These complex threads eventually coalesce to offer an empathetic portrayal of PTSD.
The later time frame details Arthur’s attempts to break away from the effects of Gerald’s bullying and make an independent life for himself. Arthur is thwarted by his inability to sustain the strength to apply himself to endeavours: college, a job, a relationship. He ends up being used by a young woman, Lydia, who is herself damaged. His acceptance of her behaviour was frustrating to read.
Arthur is shown kindness by his landlord and another tenant – a Polish survivor of the German camps. This latter thread was not developed as I expected.
The fragmented timeline is presented piecemeal. At times it was disorientating but mostly held together. The cast are presented as they appeared to Arthur rather than with much depth in themselves.
The writing is strong if somewhat distressing in places – the author does not baulk from her subject matter. There is little to like about many of the characters but they are shown to be victims of circumstance and upbringing. Not everyone will find the strength to rise above the trials they face. As such there is little uplifting amidst a series of devastating experiences for the reader to consider.
Those who prefer a tale to be completed with all threads tied and a denouement reached may finish this book and feel dissatisfied. The interweaving of numerous messy lives is portrayed with the inherited damage caused and there is no neat ending. Although dark the final take from the tale is empathetic. It is a powerful if somewhat fractured read.
The story opens in London, 1945, just a few weeks before the end of the Second World War. Sylvie has given birth to twin boys – Harry and Arthur – but only one has lived. The body of little Arthur was removed, disposed of before his mother could even hold him. In a country where many mothers will never again see their beloved children, where a city and its people have suffered so much loss and destruction, Sylvie is admonished – told she should be feeling grateful for her surviving child.
Sylvie had little time to get to know her husband, Gerald, before he went off to fight in the war. She had travelled to London for work and a new life, and been swept away by his courtship. With only brief periods of leave during the war years, Sylvie’s mother-in-law made pointed allusions to the legitimacy of the babies during her pregnancy.
Gerald’s father returned from his earlier war a broken man and eventually could no longer be cared for at home so was taken to live in an institution – an abiding source of shame for his son. Sylvie is warned by his wife to get over her grief and be sure to welcome Gerald back home with calm and open arms.
Gerald eventually returns, affected by the war but determined to hold his nerve and still his shaking hands. He is dismayed that his smiling wife has also changed. To cure Sylvie’s enduring grief at the loss of their baby he suggests they adopt one of the orphaned children from abroad being offered by the government as part of their post-war negotiations. The couple take in a boy who is the same age as Harry and rename him Arthur.
Sylvie is kind to this second Arthur who harbours buried memories of the violent deaths he witnessed in his first few years of life. She tells him stories of her little Arthur that affect him deeply. Gerald struggles to contain his impatience with this small, frightened boy who is so different from his brother. In fits of suppressed rage Gerald pours forth words that shape Arthur’s sense of worth and self.
The tale moves forward along several time frames in parallel. These include memories of the boys’ childhood and Sylvie’s gradual disintegration. Gerald tries to turn his sons into little soldiers whilst denying their Jewish heritage – he saw too plainly what can happen to practising Jews in times of conflict. As a teenager Arthur secretly explores the world of the synagogue. I was unsure what to make of this religious segment which felt unnecessarily prolonged given its importance in the wider plot progression.
Of more interest in these childhood chapters was how the boys were treated by Sylvie before she gave herself up to her enduring grief, and how Gerald struggled to cope with a family that did not match the standard he himself was working so hard to attain. These complex threads eventually coalesce to offer an empathetic portrayal of PTSD.
The later time frame details Arthur’s attempts to break away from the effects of Gerald’s bullying and make an independent life for himself. Arthur is thwarted by his inability to sustain the strength to apply himself to endeavours: college, a job, a relationship. He ends up being used by a young woman, Lydia, who is herself damaged. His acceptance of her behaviour was frustrating to read.
Arthur is shown kindness by his landlord and another tenant – a Polish survivor of the German camps. This latter thread was not developed as I expected.
The fragmented timeline is presented piecemeal. At times it was disorientating but mostly held together. The cast are presented as they appeared to Arthur rather than with much depth in themselves.
The writing is strong if somewhat distressing in places – the author does not baulk from her subject matter. There is little to like about many of the characters but they are shown to be victims of circumstance and upbringing. Not everyone will find the strength to rise above the trials they face. As such there is little uplifting amidst a series of devastating experiences for the reader to consider.
Those who prefer a tale to be completed with all threads tied and a denouement reached may finish this book and feel dissatisfied. The interweaving of numerous messy lives is portrayed with the inherited damage caused and there is no neat ending. Although dark the final take from the tale is empathetic. It is a powerful if somewhat fractured read.
February 1, 2019
A Small Dark Quiet is a challenging, complex book which takes the reader back and forth through the years, beginning in 1945 up to 1968. The story isn't told in a linear fashion but rather has an almost stream-of-consciousness sense to it, which means that it's not an easy book to follow but it powerfully captures the emotional torment of the various characters. Miranda Gold has taken the bold step of never quite revealing the full story behind any of the characters' lives and yet there is enough contained within the pages for readers to understand each of their tragedies.
These are people for whom the lives they were supposed to lead have been interrupted in some way. Sylvie should have brought twins home from the hospital but only Harry survived; she never even got to hold her Arthur who was whisked away from her and in a deeply touching scene, we learn she wove a tiny corpse from twigs, sticks, moss and stones and buried her baby, promising to visit him in his second womb every Thursday. Her husband, Gerald comes back from the war to a wife who has lost her smile but he too has been irrevocably changed by his experiences. His shame at suffering from what we would now understand to be PTSD means he overcompensates for what he sees as his own failings by becoming a demanding, impatient bully to his wife and sons. Gerald's shame also extends to his faith; the Holocaust has meant he is painfully aware of what has been done to Jewish people and his response is anger at those who he considers to be too Jewish, believing they make themselves a target for hatred. He insists his sons grow up as brave soldiers but his self-hatred frequently causes him to turn on the boy they adopted after he was rescued from a concentration camp and poignantly named Arthur by Sylvie. This 'small dark quiet' in their midst cannot heal so much grief and loss, and this Arthur - someone else's little someone - grows up without ever knowing who he really is.
When Arthur meets Lydia, he hopes he might finally reinvent himself but the Noble, Honourable Arthur he imagined becomes caught between two lives broken by their pasts - his own and Lydia's, whose fragility is revealed as the full extent of her horrific history becomes gradually clear. Arthur never fully confronts his own past but he strikes up a friendship of sorts with his neighbour, Jack and the glimpse of a number tattooed on his arm is enough to trigger what he tells himself are just nightmares but are undoubtedly memories of being buried alive under the dead and dying in the concentration camp. I wondered if Jack was going to be a conduit for Arthur learning about who he really was but this isn't a novel about resolutions and as with many young victims of the Holocaust, Arthur remains just another displaced child, in ignorance of his true heritage.
I never really felt I truly knew any of the characters in A Small Dark Quiet but then I never felt they truly knew themselves either. The often almost feverish prose means it's often difficult to work out what is really happening and what is just taking place in the mind of the characters and as such means the reader shares the questioning of self and truth which permeates through the novel.
A Small Dark Quiet is an intriguing, rather mournful book which will not please those who seek answers within their fiction, preferring instead to leave the stories only partially told with the characters never really finding the resolutions we perhaps expect. It's not necessarily a satisfying read then but it is brave and thought-provoking literary fiction which demands its readers take a risk to try something which may be outside their comfort zones and I applaud the author for that. These characters and their fractured stories will stay with me as a reminder of all those whose lives have been displaced for whatever reason.
These are people for whom the lives they were supposed to lead have been interrupted in some way. Sylvie should have brought twins home from the hospital but only Harry survived; she never even got to hold her Arthur who was whisked away from her and in a deeply touching scene, we learn she wove a tiny corpse from twigs, sticks, moss and stones and buried her baby, promising to visit him in his second womb every Thursday. Her husband, Gerald comes back from the war to a wife who has lost her smile but he too has been irrevocably changed by his experiences. His shame at suffering from what we would now understand to be PTSD means he overcompensates for what he sees as his own failings by becoming a demanding, impatient bully to his wife and sons. Gerald's shame also extends to his faith; the Holocaust has meant he is painfully aware of what has been done to Jewish people and his response is anger at those who he considers to be too Jewish, believing they make themselves a target for hatred. He insists his sons grow up as brave soldiers but his self-hatred frequently causes him to turn on the boy they adopted after he was rescued from a concentration camp and poignantly named Arthur by Sylvie. This 'small dark quiet' in their midst cannot heal so much grief and loss, and this Arthur - someone else's little someone - grows up without ever knowing who he really is.
When Arthur meets Lydia, he hopes he might finally reinvent himself but the Noble, Honourable Arthur he imagined becomes caught between two lives broken by their pasts - his own and Lydia's, whose fragility is revealed as the full extent of her horrific history becomes gradually clear. Arthur never fully confronts his own past but he strikes up a friendship of sorts with his neighbour, Jack and the glimpse of a number tattooed on his arm is enough to trigger what he tells himself are just nightmares but are undoubtedly memories of being buried alive under the dead and dying in the concentration camp. I wondered if Jack was going to be a conduit for Arthur learning about who he really was but this isn't a novel about resolutions and as with many young victims of the Holocaust, Arthur remains just another displaced child, in ignorance of his true heritage.
I never really felt I truly knew any of the characters in A Small Dark Quiet but then I never felt they truly knew themselves either. The often almost feverish prose means it's often difficult to work out what is really happening and what is just taking place in the mind of the characters and as such means the reader shares the questioning of self and truth which permeates through the novel.
A Small Dark Quiet is an intriguing, rather mournful book which will not please those who seek answers within their fiction, preferring instead to leave the stories only partially told with the characters never really finding the resolutions we perhaps expect. It's not necessarily a satisfying read then but it is brave and thought-provoking literary fiction which demands its readers take a risk to try something which may be outside their comfort zones and I applaud the author for that. These characters and their fractured stories will stay with me as a reminder of all those whose lives have been displaced for whatever reason.
January 28, 2019
What a powerful and intense novel this is, bearing witness to the power of memory, loss and grief.
Home alone whilst husband, Gerald is fighting in the Second World War, Sylvie gives birth to twin boys. One , Arthur, is still born and whisked away-she never gets to see him,to hold him or to say goodbye and all her energy and attention is directed by well meaning neighbours and hospital staff towards Henry, the surviving child.
'A Small, Dark Quiet', is how she refers to the space inside her where Arthur was, the space in her heart where she imagines him still and tries to rationalise her grief with her imagination. Every time she looks at Henry she is trying to see traces of the child she lost-would they have been identical, can she take any comfort in Henry?
Arthur was only 2 when he was given to this new family and as he gets older he finds himself drawn to explore his Jewish heritage which enrages Gerald. It is as though he feels that it's a rejection of all they have done for him by returning to a time that to Gerald's mind, Arthur should not remember.
But Arthur does remember, enough to make him search for a place of belonging-to become the person he hopes to be not a mingling of a child who never existed, carrying the weight of expectation which he could never hope to fulfil.
Beautiful, elegant, sparse and heartrending, 'A Small Dark Quiet' is lyrical and constructed with a pure joy for the words that sing from every page. It is an ultimately uplifting and powerful read that I would absolutely recommend.
My thanks to the author, Anne Cater of Random Things Tours and Unbound for my copy received in return for an honest review.
Home alone whilst husband, Gerald is fighting in the Second World War, Sylvie gives birth to twin boys. One , Arthur, is still born and whisked away-she never gets to see him,to hold him or to say goodbye and all her energy and attention is directed by well meaning neighbours and hospital staff towards Henry, the surviving child.
'A Small, Dark Quiet', is how she refers to the space inside her where Arthur was, the space in her heart where she imagines him still and tries to rationalise her grief with her imagination. Every time she looks at Henry she is trying to see traces of the child she lost-would they have been identical, can she take any comfort in Henry?
Arthur was only 2 when he was given to this new family and as he gets older he finds himself drawn to explore his Jewish heritage which enrages Gerald. It is as though he feels that it's a rejection of all they have done for him by returning to a time that to Gerald's mind, Arthur should not remember.
But Arthur does remember, enough to make him search for a place of belonging-to become the person he hopes to be not a mingling of a child who never existed, carrying the weight of expectation which he could never hope to fulfil.
Beautiful, elegant, sparse and heartrending, 'A Small Dark Quiet' is lyrical and constructed with a pure joy for the words that sing from every page. It is an ultimately uplifting and powerful read that I would absolutely recommend.
My thanks to the author, Anne Cater of Random Things Tours and Unbound for my copy received in return for an honest review.
September 16, 2018
I read this with The Pigeonhole. Beautifully written, this tells the tale of an orphan from a concentration camp, who is adopted by a general and his wife who have lost a twin to stillbirth. He is given the name of their dead baby and the story follows him and his mother through the rest of his mother’s life.
This book is beautifully written, poignant and impressive in its depiction of grief and loss, but goodness, it was sad. Everybody is carrying such heavy burdens that it was quite overwhelming at times. Cautiously recommended, but not if you feel fragile.
This book is beautifully written, poignant and impressive in its depiction of grief and loss, but goodness, it was sad. Everybody is carrying such heavy burdens that it was quite overwhelming at times. Cautiously recommended, but not if you feel fragile.
June 2, 2026
What a powerful and intense novel this is, bearing witness to the power of memory, loss and grief.
Home alone whilst husband, Gerald is fighting in the Second World War, Sylvie gives birth to twin boys. One , Arthur, is still born and whisked away-she never gets to see him,to hold him or to say goodbye and all her energy and attention is directed by well meaning neighbours and hospital staff towards Henry, the surviving child.
'A Small, Dark Quiet', is how she refers to the space inside her where Arthur was, the space in her heart where she imagines him still and tries to rationalise her grief with her imagination. Every time she looks at Henry she is trying to see traces of the child she lost-would they have been identical, can she take any comfort in Henry?
None is to be found and in one of many heartbreaking scenes, the young mother creates a 'baby' of moss, twigs and leaves to then bury in the ground as she desperately tries to give Arthur a place in this world as well as in her heart.
The novel goes backwards and forwards between 1965 and 1947, when the twins should have been 2. Gerald has returned home and answering an advert for families to take in survivors of concentration camps, Sylvie brings home a boy sharing the same birthdate as Henry and Arthur.
Her thought processes are that they have a spare life,a spare name, a spare boy shaped hole in their family fabric that could be filled by this child. The boy does not talk until one night he wakes Gerald and Sylvie, screaming. In a telling aside, Gerald wakes Sylvie telling her that it is she who is screaming. Sylvie finds him in the airing cupboard and begins to tell him stories about the Arthur who never was.
In 1965, Sylvie is on some form of medication-there are references to her tablets, her pills-and she is clearly someone who has had such trauma from the birth that she has never recovered. She falls, she drops things, she has little sense of danger and needs careful monitoring.
In contrast, Gerald is short, snappy, bullying and hectoring towards his 2 sons. It's as though the loss of Arthur in conjunction with his time as a soldier have broken him and his response is to demand more of Henry and Arthur.
Arthur was only 2 when he was given to this new family and as he gets older he finds himself drawn to explore his Jewish heritage which enrages Gerald. It is as though he feels that it's a rejection of all they have done for him by returning to a time that to Gerald's mind, Arthur should not remember.
But Arthur does remember, enough to make him search for a place of belonging-to become the person he hopes to be not a mingling of a child who never existed, carrying the weight of expectation which he could never hope to fulfil.
It seems very fitting to be reading this on The International Day of Commemoration of the Holocaust at a time where, there are, inexplicably , those who feel that they can deny that this ever happened. That they have the freedom to express such opinions because of the sacrifices of millions of lives is such a bitter pill to swallow.
I cannot express how grateful I am to Anne Cater and Unbound for this copy of 'A Small Dark Quiet', I learnt so much and this is the point-without novels and ceremonies and raising awareness of what happened in the past and is still happening now around the world, we are doomed to carry on repeating history and endlessly taking lives. The trauma that these survivors have experienced and yet they are still willing and able to discuss it, takes such great courage -we need to continue to stand with them, remember what happened and listen.
Beautiful, elegant, sparse and heartrending, 'A Small Dark Quiet' is lyrical and constructed with a pure joy for the words that sing from every page. It is an ultimately uplifting and powerful read that I would absolutely recommend.
Home alone whilst husband, Gerald is fighting in the Second World War, Sylvie gives birth to twin boys. One , Arthur, is still born and whisked away-she never gets to see him,to hold him or to say goodbye and all her energy and attention is directed by well meaning neighbours and hospital staff towards Henry, the surviving child.
'A Small, Dark Quiet', is how she refers to the space inside her where Arthur was, the space in her heart where she imagines him still and tries to rationalise her grief with her imagination. Every time she looks at Henry she is trying to see traces of the child she lost-would they have been identical, can she take any comfort in Henry?
None is to be found and in one of many heartbreaking scenes, the young mother creates a 'baby' of moss, twigs and leaves to then bury in the ground as she desperately tries to give Arthur a place in this world as well as in her heart.
The novel goes backwards and forwards between 1965 and 1947, when the twins should have been 2. Gerald has returned home and answering an advert for families to take in survivors of concentration camps, Sylvie brings home a boy sharing the same birthdate as Henry and Arthur.
Her thought processes are that they have a spare life,a spare name, a spare boy shaped hole in their family fabric that could be filled by this child. The boy does not talk until one night he wakes Gerald and Sylvie, screaming. In a telling aside, Gerald wakes Sylvie telling her that it is she who is screaming. Sylvie finds him in the airing cupboard and begins to tell him stories about the Arthur who never was.
In 1965, Sylvie is on some form of medication-there are references to her tablets, her pills-and she is clearly someone who has had such trauma from the birth that she has never recovered. She falls, she drops things, she has little sense of danger and needs careful monitoring.
In contrast, Gerald is short, snappy, bullying and hectoring towards his 2 sons. It's as though the loss of Arthur in conjunction with his time as a soldier have broken him and his response is to demand more of Henry and Arthur.
Arthur was only 2 when he was given to this new family and as he gets older he finds himself drawn to explore his Jewish heritage which enrages Gerald. It is as though he feels that it's a rejection of all they have done for him by returning to a time that to Gerald's mind, Arthur should not remember.
But Arthur does remember, enough to make him search for a place of belonging-to become the person he hopes to be not a mingling of a child who never existed, carrying the weight of expectation which he could never hope to fulfil.
It seems very fitting to be reading this on The International Day of Commemoration of the Holocaust at a time where, there are, inexplicably , those who feel that they can deny that this ever happened. That they have the freedom to express such opinions because of the sacrifices of millions of lives is such a bitter pill to swallow.
I cannot express how grateful I am to Anne Cater and Unbound for this copy of 'A Small Dark Quiet', I learnt so much and this is the point-without novels and ceremonies and raising awareness of what happened in the past and is still happening now around the world, we are doomed to carry on repeating history and endlessly taking lives. The trauma that these survivors have experienced and yet they are still willing and able to discuss it, takes such great courage -we need to continue to stand with them, remember what happened and listen.
Beautiful, elegant, sparse and heartrending, 'A Small Dark Quiet' is lyrical and constructed with a pure joy for the words that sing from every page. It is an ultimately uplifting and powerful read that I would absolutely recommend.
February 5, 2019
This is a heartfelt and sad book, with a complex structure and a story that almost slips away. The fact that it maintains the reader’s interest is a sign of the expressive writing that Gold seems to specialise in throughout this book. The characters all have a background which echoes and reverberates in every aspect of their lives, where nothing is straightforward and everything is fluid. Atmospheric and clever, this book has its own unusual rhythm and pace, as it moves back and forwards in post war Britain, as the relationships and expectations of the protagonists change and deepen. I was interested to be sent a copy of this book to review.
The book opens with a woman, Sylvie, having given birth to the healthy baby Harry, but having lost another son, Arthur. The date, being March 1945 and the place being London means that the atmosphere is strained, as only Mrs. Cohen, a neighbour, is present to help. The loss of Arthur leaves Sylvie in despair, and she flees to a local park. Her actual actions are unclear, but it seems that she makes a model of a baby and buries it. The construction of the novel means that we only learn of this through hints and later incidents, as we also encounter her husband Gerald, a soldier whose own father is sometimes mentioned. Another boy appears in the household, given the same birthdate and the same name as the lost son. While not immediately announced, he appears to be an orphaned Jewish boy with tragic history in Hitler’s Europe. This has repercussions for his life, as he finds himself drawn to a synagogue despite his father’s antagonism. Sylvie withdraws from activities, Gerald seeks to enforce his ambitions on the family, while only Harry maintains a semblance of ordinary behaviour. Arthur’s adult life seems hopelessly compromised by his childhood and adolescence, and his behaviour and encounters difficult. The chronological arrangement of the book takes some following, as it moves between the decades, showing the adult Arthur in the context of various childhood experiences.
This book has a mature and ambitious structure, as suits the subject matter of fleeting impressions, memories and emotions. Gold gives us a non - linear story of a family which therefore represents the links between memory and current behaviour, what shapes people into their adult and later lives. It is a challenging book to read, but gives a strong impression of how loss leaves a gap that cannot be easily filled – if filled at all- and the effects of the attempt on real people. Sylvie’s lasting grief is an ever present force. Arthur’s confusion and half memories shapes how he reacts to Sylvie and his later relationship. The ongoing question of identity runs throughout this book, for without a grasp of self identity it will be impossible to move on happily. This is a book which asks many questions, demonstrates the lasting effects of grief, and establishes the difficulties of post war Britain. It will linger in the mind for some time.
The book opens with a woman, Sylvie, having given birth to the healthy baby Harry, but having lost another son, Arthur. The date, being March 1945 and the place being London means that the atmosphere is strained, as only Mrs. Cohen, a neighbour, is present to help. The loss of Arthur leaves Sylvie in despair, and she flees to a local park. Her actual actions are unclear, but it seems that she makes a model of a baby and buries it. The construction of the novel means that we only learn of this through hints and later incidents, as we also encounter her husband Gerald, a soldier whose own father is sometimes mentioned. Another boy appears in the household, given the same birthdate and the same name as the lost son. While not immediately announced, he appears to be an orphaned Jewish boy with tragic history in Hitler’s Europe. This has repercussions for his life, as he finds himself drawn to a synagogue despite his father’s antagonism. Sylvie withdraws from activities, Gerald seeks to enforce his ambitions on the family, while only Harry maintains a semblance of ordinary behaviour. Arthur’s adult life seems hopelessly compromised by his childhood and adolescence, and his behaviour and encounters difficult. The chronological arrangement of the book takes some following, as it moves between the decades, showing the adult Arthur in the context of various childhood experiences.
This book has a mature and ambitious structure, as suits the subject matter of fleeting impressions, memories and emotions. Gold gives us a non - linear story of a family which therefore represents the links between memory and current behaviour, what shapes people into their adult and later lives. It is a challenging book to read, but gives a strong impression of how loss leaves a gap that cannot be easily filled – if filled at all- and the effects of the attempt on real people. Sylvie’s lasting grief is an ever present force. Arthur’s confusion and half memories shapes how he reacts to Sylvie and his later relationship. The ongoing question of identity runs throughout this book, for without a grasp of self identity it will be impossible to move on happily. This is a book which asks many questions, demonstrates the lasting effects of grief, and establishes the difficulties of post war Britain. It will linger in the mind for some time.
December 5, 2018
(I received a free copy from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.)
The beginning wasn't half bad — slow, atmospheric, very stream-of-consciousness in a fragmented and chaotic way — but then the rest of the book was exactly the same, only in Arthur's POV instead of Sylvie's. The very title alludes to the half-finished and circuitous thoughts ("a small dark quiet" is how Sylvie describes Arthur when they first meet), and while it's stylistically interesting, for me it lost effectiveness around a third of the way through. That said, I did enjoy the repetitions of certain lines as they take on new meaning, the little callbacks to previous interactions, none of which are explained; it shows faith in the reader's intelligence, which doesn't seem to be so popular with conventionally marketed (commercial) books these days.
Although this book is divided into several parts, each is very similar in tone and primary "plot" — Sylvie's continuing postpartum depression and slipping grip on reality, Gerard's patriarchal demands, Arthur's inability to be who he or anyone in his family wants him to be —which adds to the monotony; it didn't feel like a journey of self-discovery/-exploration as the summary led me to believe, in part because I never connected with the characters. I could see the thoughts that consumed them, how they felt about the people around them, yet the narrative still felt very detached and clinical. I really only felt anything for Harry and Aunt Cynthia: mild curiosity, because they didn't get very much pagetime but they actually did things besides mope and lash out at those closest to them.
I'm also disappointed that the narrative was so unbalanced. Lydia's and Jack's stories were potentially fascinating, but they take a backseat to Arthur's angst over not being the "real" Arthur. Lydia is literally a younger version of Sylvie, delusions and domestic fantasies/playacting, and Jack is a hardworking but uneducated immigrant who literally carries an English dictionary with him at all times; neither has much bearing on the plot. I also felt like there was an attempt to establish a strong setting, since it's almost a secondary character in its own right, but it didn't really come through for me.
The ending was also dissatisfying. I identified a place that would make for a nice ending, a good mix of closure and ambiguity, and was frustrated to see that there were still a few chapters to go — none of which really added to the narrative, and the significance of the actual ending was totally lost on me.
For someone who likes a slow, introspective story focused around grief, guilt, and other all-consuming emotions, this might be one to try. Otherwise, I'd recommend something a little more exciting, with more dynamic characters and plot.
The beginning wasn't half bad — slow, atmospheric, very stream-of-consciousness in a fragmented and chaotic way — but then the rest of the book was exactly the same, only in Arthur's POV instead of Sylvie's. The very title alludes to the half-finished and circuitous thoughts ("a small dark quiet" is how Sylvie describes Arthur when they first meet), and while it's stylistically interesting, for me it lost effectiveness around a third of the way through. That said, I did enjoy the repetitions of certain lines as they take on new meaning, the little callbacks to previous interactions, none of which are explained; it shows faith in the reader's intelligence, which doesn't seem to be so popular with conventionally marketed (commercial) books these days.
Although this book is divided into several parts, each is very similar in tone and primary "plot" — Sylvie's continuing postpartum depression and slipping grip on reality, Gerard's patriarchal demands, Arthur's inability to be who he or anyone in his family wants him to be —which adds to the monotony; it didn't feel like a journey of self-discovery/-exploration as the summary led me to believe, in part because I never connected with the characters. I could see the thoughts that consumed them, how they felt about the people around them, yet the narrative still felt very detached and clinical. I really only felt anything for Harry and Aunt Cynthia: mild curiosity, because they didn't get very much pagetime but they actually did things besides mope and lash out at those closest to them.
I'm also disappointed that the narrative was so unbalanced. Lydia's and Jack's stories were potentially fascinating, but they take a backseat to Arthur's angst over not being the "real" Arthur. Lydia is literally a younger version of Sylvie, delusions and domestic fantasies/playacting, and Jack is a hardworking but uneducated immigrant who literally carries an English dictionary with him at all times; neither has much bearing on the plot. I also felt like there was an attempt to establish a strong setting, since it's almost a secondary character in its own right, but it didn't really come through for me.
The ending was also dissatisfying. I identified a place that would make for a nice ending, a good mix of closure and ambiguity, and was frustrated to see that there were still a few chapters to go — none of which really added to the narrative, and the significance of the actual ending was totally lost on me.
For someone who likes a slow, introspective story focused around grief, guilt, and other all-consuming emotions, this might be one to try. Otherwise, I'd recommend something a little more exciting, with more dynamic characters and plot.
December 17, 2018
With just a matter of weeks before London is thronged with crowds as the war is finally at an end and Germany has been defeated. It is March 1945. But the price of victory will always come at a cost as people not just in London but all over Europe will begin the long and painful journey of rebuilding their shattered lives.
Millions of lives have been lost and children without parents and children whose parents have been killed by the Nazi’s in Concentration Camps. In London. A Small Dark Quiet by Miranda Gold follows Sylvie as she fights her battle, she has given birth to twins but one of the twins is stillborn. Sylvie and her husband Gerald are distraught at their loss.
Two years later as they rebuild they have adopted a boy who was born into the horrors of the Concentration Camps. They have given him a new name of Arthur after the child they lost. For Arthur all his past seems to now have been lost and this in the years to come will be struggle as Arthur attempts to discover his Jewish history and all that that entails. He is trapped in a life and scared to seek his own past for what this will bring.
There is rage from Gerald who has been fighting his own battle since the end of the war and seems to take it out on Arthur and this will have a deep and last effect on the boy. What we also witness is the gradual collapse of Sylvie as the weight of grief is all consuming. Arthur’s shadow is his ghost of his past that is reluctant to leave it is later in life when he finally breaks the shackles of the torment by Gerald and seeks his way in life. Nothing is going well for him though and even in a relationship with Lydia that goes wrong after he is used by her. At times this is a dark novel to read with disturbing and fractured lives broken by war and torment.
Miranda has written a very powerful novel that explores many themes including replacing one son with another and attempting to hide the pain and suffering of death but over time creates more personal devastation on a boy who has witness’s horror on scale unimaginable. With a painful ending to the story it is still one book I would recommend.
Millions of lives have been lost and children without parents and children whose parents have been killed by the Nazi’s in Concentration Camps. In London. A Small Dark Quiet by Miranda Gold follows Sylvie as she fights her battle, she has given birth to twins but one of the twins is stillborn. Sylvie and her husband Gerald are distraught at their loss.
Two years later as they rebuild they have adopted a boy who was born into the horrors of the Concentration Camps. They have given him a new name of Arthur after the child they lost. For Arthur all his past seems to now have been lost and this in the years to come will be struggle as Arthur attempts to discover his Jewish history and all that that entails. He is trapped in a life and scared to seek his own past for what this will bring.
There is rage from Gerald who has been fighting his own battle since the end of the war and seems to take it out on Arthur and this will have a deep and last effect on the boy. What we also witness is the gradual collapse of Sylvie as the weight of grief is all consuming. Arthur’s shadow is his ghost of his past that is reluctant to leave it is later in life when he finally breaks the shackles of the torment by Gerald and seeks his way in life. Nothing is going well for him though and even in a relationship with Lydia that goes wrong after he is used by her. At times this is a dark novel to read with disturbing and fractured lives broken by war and torment.
Miranda has written a very powerful novel that explores many themes including replacing one son with another and attempting to hide the pain and suffering of death but over time creates more personal devastation on a boy who has witness’s horror on scale unimaginable. With a painful ending to the story it is still one book I would recommend.
February 4, 2019
I've made a conscious decision to not jump into too many blog tours this year. I'll be really doing my research when it comes to the books I'm offered. So when I was asked to be part of the blog tour for this book I had a look into it and thought that the premise sounded fascinating. Luckily I was correct.
Against the backdrop of a London emerging from the Second World War, Sylvie gives birth to twins, two boys Who she names Harry and Arthur.
Arthur sadly does not survive and is promptly whisked away before Sylvie even gets the chance to hold him in her arms.
Given that many millions of mothers have lost their sons to the ravages and brutality of war, Sylvie is made to feel that she should be grateful for the one remaining son she has and her grief for Arthur is almost swept under the carpet by those around her.
Sylvie struggles with her feelings with little support from her husband Gerald, a man whom she got little chance to fully connect with before he had to go away to fight for his country, but is now most certainly a man changed by the horrors of war, a man she no longer recognises.
When Harry is two years old, Sylvie and Gerald adopt a Jewish orphan born into the world of concentration camps and Sylvie begins to channel her grief for Arthur into this little boy. She gives him Arthur's name and begins to embroil him in her grief and loneliness, at the cost of him losing his own identity and heritage.
Sylvie's mind is trapped in a realm where her dead son is buried in the park (he isn't). A park she visits every Thursday with a handful of flower buds for him. She is waiting until her Arthur is big enough and strong enough to come back to her. A story she tells her new Arthur, a story he hears often. Told over and over about 'the other little Arthur' but never hearing his own story.
As Arthur grows up in a house with his father, referred to as 'General Gerald' for those times he acts as though he is still in the army, and his brother who sides with his father in their constant jibes against him, Arthur feels ever more disassociated with his family.
As Sylvia's physical and mental health decline Arthur spends more and more time in the park where he meets Lydia, a woman looking after a set of twins.
In a bid to carve an independent life for himself, Arthur leaves the family home and starts renting a run down room with Lydia on the Holloway Road.
Lydia has mental issues of her own and Arthur struggles to find himself between her issues and his odd collection of neighbours.
This book is by no means an easy read, both in subject matter and style. The story is constructed with short punchy paragraphs and incomplete lines. The fractured prose mirroring the fractured thoughts of the narrators, be that Sylvie or Arthur.
The timeline jumps around and takes a little time to get into. Switching between Arthur and Harry's childhood and back to the late 1960's when Arthur is in his twenties.
For me this is a book you need to read in a short time and with no outside distractions. It took a little concentration for me to hold on to the sometimes ethereal, dreamlike style of writing. It is also a book that I wouldn't want to put down and return to.
I gobbled up the second half of this book one Sunday afternoon and if I'm honest I'm glad it didn't go too heavy on the religion/Jewish element as I originally thought it might.
I was caught up in Arthur's story and I was saddened by the deterioration in poor Sylvie's mental health. A woman who so desperately wanted her little Arthur back.
This book explores loss, grief, lives changed by war, identity and place. It's an emotive but hard hitting read. I swept along with Sylvia and Arthur and I am glad I read their story.
Not a book for everyone, but if you like to read about any of the themes mentioned above and enjoy a quirkily styled book then I would recommend getting your hands on this one.
Against the backdrop of a London emerging from the Second World War, Sylvie gives birth to twins, two boys Who she names Harry and Arthur.
Arthur sadly does not survive and is promptly whisked away before Sylvie even gets the chance to hold him in her arms.
Given that many millions of mothers have lost their sons to the ravages and brutality of war, Sylvie is made to feel that she should be grateful for the one remaining son she has and her grief for Arthur is almost swept under the carpet by those around her.
Sylvie struggles with her feelings with little support from her husband Gerald, a man whom she got little chance to fully connect with before he had to go away to fight for his country, but is now most certainly a man changed by the horrors of war, a man she no longer recognises.
When Harry is two years old, Sylvie and Gerald adopt a Jewish orphan born into the world of concentration camps and Sylvie begins to channel her grief for Arthur into this little boy. She gives him Arthur's name and begins to embroil him in her grief and loneliness, at the cost of him losing his own identity and heritage.
Sylvie's mind is trapped in a realm where her dead son is buried in the park (he isn't). A park she visits every Thursday with a handful of flower buds for him. She is waiting until her Arthur is big enough and strong enough to come back to her. A story she tells her new Arthur, a story he hears often. Told over and over about 'the other little Arthur' but never hearing his own story.
As Arthur grows up in a house with his father, referred to as 'General Gerald' for those times he acts as though he is still in the army, and his brother who sides with his father in their constant jibes against him, Arthur feels ever more disassociated with his family.
As Sylvia's physical and mental health decline Arthur spends more and more time in the park where he meets Lydia, a woman looking after a set of twins.
In a bid to carve an independent life for himself, Arthur leaves the family home and starts renting a run down room with Lydia on the Holloway Road.
Lydia has mental issues of her own and Arthur struggles to find himself between her issues and his odd collection of neighbours.
This book is by no means an easy read, both in subject matter and style. The story is constructed with short punchy paragraphs and incomplete lines. The fractured prose mirroring the fractured thoughts of the narrators, be that Sylvie or Arthur.
The timeline jumps around and takes a little time to get into. Switching between Arthur and Harry's childhood and back to the late 1960's when Arthur is in his twenties.
For me this is a book you need to read in a short time and with no outside distractions. It took a little concentration for me to hold on to the sometimes ethereal, dreamlike style of writing. It is also a book that I wouldn't want to put down and return to.
I gobbled up the second half of this book one Sunday afternoon and if I'm honest I'm glad it didn't go too heavy on the religion/Jewish element as I originally thought it might.
I was caught up in Arthur's story and I was saddened by the deterioration in poor Sylvie's mental health. A woman who so desperately wanted her little Arthur back.
This book explores loss, grief, lives changed by war, identity and place. It's an emotive but hard hitting read. I swept along with Sylvia and Arthur and I am glad I read their story.
Not a book for everyone, but if you like to read about any of the themes mentioned above and enjoy a quirkily styled book then I would recommend getting your hands on this one.
September 12, 2018
Note: I read this through The Pigeonhole as a prepublication, uncorrected proof in ebook format.
After all the sadness, chaos, confusion, fear, and mental anguish, there is a light that shines for Arthur. The reader is left feeling that he will survive the concentration camp; the militaristic, anti-Semitic step-father; the death of his grief-stricken mother; a mentally disturbed girlfriend, and a somewhat resentful but ultimately caring step-brother. The style was confusing for me, as well, and I feel that some of the author's purpose gets lost in the format and the reader's struggle to make sense of vague references and memories that are triggered by odd behaviors and events. This is a novel that must be read more than once to be fully understood and appreciated, but that will have to wait for the day when I have an excess of reading time.
After all the sadness, chaos, confusion, fear, and mental anguish, there is a light that shines for Arthur. The reader is left feeling that he will survive the concentration camp; the militaristic, anti-Semitic step-father; the death of his grief-stricken mother; a mentally disturbed girlfriend, and a somewhat resentful but ultimately caring step-brother. The style was confusing for me, as well, and I feel that some of the author's purpose gets lost in the format and the reader's struggle to make sense of vague references and memories that are triggered by odd behaviors and events. This is a novel that must be read more than once to be fully understood and appreciated, but that will have to wait for the day when I have an excess of reading time.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 6, 2019
I received an advanced reader copy of this book from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. I wish I could say that I enjoyed this book, but the whole thing just felt totally fragmented and I just had no idea what I was reading. I wasn't connected to the characters and forced myself to get through the book. I wanted to read more about the backstory of each character.
September 29, 2018
Didn’t really enjoy this book but stuck it out to the end.
September 29, 2022
The feeling of inadequacy takes a man back and forth in his mind, constaltly revisiting his past and his depressed mother´s fears and emptiness as he struggles to find himself as Arthur. This book was great! Very unusually written, so a little tiring at times, it requires the readers full imersion into the the characters` unwinding discoverings.
September 15, 2018
London 1945. War is over and people are trying to get their lives together, back to normal, Sylvia and her husband are two such people. They adopt a child, who after being born.in a concentration camp, is left an orphan. Naming him Arthur (after her stillborn son). He wants for nothing, but he struggles, night after night waking up, screaming in terror about what he witnesses in the camp
Learning he is Jewish, is something else Arthur has to learn about, and what it means.
Heartbreaking and brilliantly told, this is a book that will tug at the readers heartstrings.
Learning he is Jewish, is something else Arthur has to learn about, and what it means.
Heartbreaking and brilliantly told, this is a book that will tug at the readers heartstrings.
December 30, 2018
Review can also be found on https://wordpress.com/view/thereading...
This is a difficult book for me to review because I’m not entirely sure what I thought or how I felt about it. I found it difficult to get through, but there were also times that I couldn’t put it down.
A Small Dark Quiet tells the story of Arthur, a Jewish boy adopted from Germany by Sylvie and Gerald, a young married couple in England.
Sylvie gives birth to twin boys while her husband Gerald is away in the war. She names her boys Harry and Arthur, but unfortunately, only Harry survives. Sylvie is expected to put her grief about her lost baby behind her, and put on a smile for her husband when he returns. It is suggested to them that they adopt a boy, and they adopt one the same age as their biological son. They then choose to call him Arthur, after their dead son.
Constantly being referred to as ‘someone else’s little someone’ or ‘the other Arthur’, he is forced to grow up knowing that he does not quite fit and he spends the rest of his life trying to belong somewhere and to someone.
Sylvie’s mental and physical health deteriorates, and she spends her time in a world where her biological Arthur is buried in the park, growing until he is strong enough to come back to her.
When Arthur is old enough, he moves out of the family home and rents a room in a run down building owned by the constantly sick and easy going Keith. He is joined by Lydia, a girl he met while in the park, and who he is besotted with on sight. The last to join them in the next room is ‘Jack’, a Polish caretaker with broken english who seems to have a story to tell.
I found the style of this book quite difficult to follow – the timeline jumps back and forth and there’s very little in the way of transitional text i.e. there is very little explaining where the character is at any moment or who he may be talking to, I found I often had to read back a few paragraphs to piece together what was actually happening and who was speaking to whom.
Arthur’s constant striving for a place to belong is upsetting to read, he is determined to make himself appealing to everyone, be that trying to be the perfect partner to Lydia, despite her increasingly strange demands and behaviours, or trying to be the son that Sylvie desperately needs him to be. He does this while trying fiercely to hold his own independence – not wanting to work for his father, not wanting anyone to dress him etc.
There were threads in this book that I thought were going to lead somewhere that didn’t, which I found disappointing – for example, I really thought that Jack was going to be a bigger character, and reveal something about Arthur, but he ended up just being another character.
I found most of the characters hard to like, or feel for, truly the only character I really felt for was Sylvie, who’s life seemed tragic, and who really wasn’t treated very fairly by her family. Gerald was a bully at times, Harry just seemed to be floating through life, and Lydia was thoroughly unlikeable.
Would I recommend this book? Honestly, probably not, it’s not really my kind of book unfortunately, I just found it a bit too disjointed and it jumped around a little bit too much for my liking.
*I was sent this book on request from NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.
This is a difficult book for me to review because I’m not entirely sure what I thought or how I felt about it. I found it difficult to get through, but there were also times that I couldn’t put it down.
A Small Dark Quiet tells the story of Arthur, a Jewish boy adopted from Germany by Sylvie and Gerald, a young married couple in England.
Sylvie gives birth to twin boys while her husband Gerald is away in the war. She names her boys Harry and Arthur, but unfortunately, only Harry survives. Sylvie is expected to put her grief about her lost baby behind her, and put on a smile for her husband when he returns. It is suggested to them that they adopt a boy, and they adopt one the same age as their biological son. They then choose to call him Arthur, after their dead son.
Constantly being referred to as ‘someone else’s little someone’ or ‘the other Arthur’, he is forced to grow up knowing that he does not quite fit and he spends the rest of his life trying to belong somewhere and to someone.
Sylvie’s mental and physical health deteriorates, and she spends her time in a world where her biological Arthur is buried in the park, growing until he is strong enough to come back to her.
When Arthur is old enough, he moves out of the family home and rents a room in a run down building owned by the constantly sick and easy going Keith. He is joined by Lydia, a girl he met while in the park, and who he is besotted with on sight. The last to join them in the next room is ‘Jack’, a Polish caretaker with broken english who seems to have a story to tell.
I found the style of this book quite difficult to follow – the timeline jumps back and forth and there’s very little in the way of transitional text i.e. there is very little explaining where the character is at any moment or who he may be talking to, I found I often had to read back a few paragraphs to piece together what was actually happening and who was speaking to whom.
Arthur’s constant striving for a place to belong is upsetting to read, he is determined to make himself appealing to everyone, be that trying to be the perfect partner to Lydia, despite her increasingly strange demands and behaviours, or trying to be the son that Sylvie desperately needs him to be. He does this while trying fiercely to hold his own independence – not wanting to work for his father, not wanting anyone to dress him etc.
There were threads in this book that I thought were going to lead somewhere that didn’t, which I found disappointing – for example, I really thought that Jack was going to be a bigger character, and reveal something about Arthur, but he ended up just being another character.
I found most of the characters hard to like, or feel for, truly the only character I really felt for was Sylvie, who’s life seemed tragic, and who really wasn’t treated very fairly by her family. Gerald was a bully at times, Harry just seemed to be floating through life, and Lydia was thoroughly unlikeable.
Would I recommend this book? Honestly, probably not, it’s not really my kind of book unfortunately, I just found it a bit too disjointed and it jumped around a little bit too much for my liking.
*I was sent this book on request from NetGalley in exchange for my honest review.
January 10, 2019
I sometimes found it a little hard to follow due to Arthur's disjointed narrative. The character development was good for Arthur though I do feel like more could have been developed for Sylvie & Lydia in particular. I was never quite sure which parts were real and which were happening only his imagination though that could have been on purpose by the writer.
The connection that Lydia feels with Sylvie intrigued me and I don't feel like it played out to my personal hope but still, it brought intrigue. The first time Gerald shows any sentiment or fatherly protection is right near the end and I thought that it matched his character perfectly.
I had wondered if Jack held the key to Arthur's past, this was the main reason I wanted to keep reading and the ending just didn't fully resolve it but perhaps it's just more true to life.
The connection that Lydia feels with Sylvie intrigued me and I don't feel like it played out to my personal hope but still, it brought intrigue. The first time Gerald shows any sentiment or fatherly protection is right near the end and I thought that it matched his character perfectly.
I had wondered if Jack held the key to Arthur's past, this was the main reason I wanted to keep reading and the ending just didn't fully resolve it but perhaps it's just more true to life.
January 26, 2019
Reading this book is like looking at all the pieces of a beautifully designed puzzle and sort of knowing how to put it together but mostly just fumbling around throwing pieces where they MIGHT go, regardless of how the piece is shaped or what color it is. The picture on the box shows a deep, complex picture that gets you excited to put it all together, but the more you try, the more you wonder what in the world is it all for.
Miranda Gold is clearly a talented writer. The way she spins phrases, her use of metaphor, and the imagery she invokes are incredible from the beginning of the novel right up to the very end. The premise of the novel is also fascinating and sounds like something that's up my personal alley. Yes, historical fiction around WWII (immediately pre- and post- included) seems to be an extremely popular trend these days, but when the book is good, it's GOOD. This particular novel stands out from the rest because the plot like nothing I've ever read before, and it's so incredibly refreshing to find new material that isn't just another nurse falling in love with a soldier, or some exploitative horror porn detailing a concentration camp, or the young American woman with burgeoning independence accidentally getting pregnant and dealing with her life on the American home front. A Small Dark Quiet has none of those overused (but still widely loved, especially by me!) tropes.
All of that being said, the time jumps in the book are confusing, and it becomes hard to follow. I read someone else's review who said that the whole book is pretty much Arthur being angsty over not being "the right Arthur," which is an extremely accurate description. I was interested for the first 35%, but after that, I thought the Arthur/other Arthur stuff was repetitive and didn't add anything to any of the characters' developments. After a certain point, it was difficult to identify what the novel is even about because the reader gets so slogged down in Arthur's angst, and so I wound up just skimming through the rest to find out what happens in the end. Also, I love angst. My disappointment in Arthur as a character doesn't come from a dislike of angst, but the thing with Arthur (or any of the characters in the book) is that that angst doesn't take Arthur to another place in his development. I love a complicated protagonist the way the next person does, but I just didn't feel it with this book.
It seems that there are a number of people who've been profoundly moved by the book, and I'm genuinely very happy for them that this was the novel that fit into their niche. Even though I didn't get as much out of it as I'd hoped to, I'm glad to see that others have, and I hope to see more readers connecting with the message of A Small Dark Quiet!
Miranda Gold is clearly a talented writer. The way she spins phrases, her use of metaphor, and the imagery she invokes are incredible from the beginning of the novel right up to the very end. The premise of the novel is also fascinating and sounds like something that's up my personal alley. Yes, historical fiction around WWII (immediately pre- and post- included) seems to be an extremely popular trend these days, but when the book is good, it's GOOD. This particular novel stands out from the rest because the plot like nothing I've ever read before, and it's so incredibly refreshing to find new material that isn't just another nurse falling in love with a soldier, or some exploitative horror porn detailing a concentration camp, or the young American woman with burgeoning independence accidentally getting pregnant and dealing with her life on the American home front. A Small Dark Quiet has none of those overused (but still widely loved, especially by me!) tropes.
All of that being said, the time jumps in the book are confusing, and it becomes hard to follow. I read someone else's review who said that the whole book is pretty much Arthur being angsty over not being "the right Arthur," which is an extremely accurate description. I was interested for the first 35%, but after that, I thought the Arthur/other Arthur stuff was repetitive and didn't add anything to any of the characters' developments. After a certain point, it was difficult to identify what the novel is even about because the reader gets so slogged down in Arthur's angst, and so I wound up just skimming through the rest to find out what happens in the end. Also, I love angst. My disappointment in Arthur as a character doesn't come from a dislike of angst, but the thing with Arthur (or any of the characters in the book) is that that angst doesn't take Arthur to another place in his development. I love a complicated protagonist the way the next person does, but I just didn't feel it with this book.
It seems that there are a number of people who've been profoundly moved by the book, and I'm genuinely very happy for them that this was the novel that fit into their niche. Even though I didn't get as much out of it as I'd hoped to, I'm glad to see that others have, and I hope to see more readers connecting with the message of A Small Dark Quiet!
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