Small Pleasures

by Clare Chambers

1957, south-east suburbs of London.
Jean Swinney is a feature writer on a local paper, disappointed in love and - on the brink of forty - living a limited existence with her truculent a small life from which there is no likelihood of escape.

When a young Swiss woman, Gretchen Tilbury, contacts the paper to claim that her daughter is the result of a virgin birth, it is down to Jean to discover whether she is a miracle or a fraud. But the more Jean investigates, the more her life becomes strangely (and not unpleasantly) intertwined with that of the Gretchen is now a friend, and her quirky and charming daughter Margaret a sort of surrogate child. And Jean doesn't mean to fall in love with Gretchen's husband, Howard, but Howard surprises her with his dry wit, his intelligence and his kindness - and when she does fall, she falls hard.

But he is married, and to her friend - who is also the subject of the story she is researching for the newspaper, a story that increasingly seems to be causing dark ripples across all their lives. And yet Jean cannot bring herself to discard the chance of finally having a taste of happiness...

But there will be a price to pay, and it will be unbearable.

Genres: Fiction, Historical Fiction, Romance, Historical, Book Club, Contemporary, Literary Fiction

352 pages, ebook

First published October 12, 2021

About the author

Clare Chambers was born on 1966 in in Croydon, Surrey, England, UK, daughter of English teachers. She attended a school in Croydon. At 16, she met Peter, her future husband, a teacher 14 years old than her. She read English at Oxford. The marriage moved to New Zealand, where she wrote her first novel. She now lives in Kent with her husband and young family. In 1999, her novel Learning to Swim won the Romantic Novel of the Year Award by the Romantic Novelists' Association.

Reviews

[Jack Edwards · Rating 3 out of 5]

Such a tender, beautiful, and light novel... until the end. Small Pleasures had the most absurd (and unnecessary??) ending to a book I’ve ever read — it was almost as if the final chapter belonged to an entirely different novel altogether. If the significance of the final chapter has to be explained in an Afterword, maybe it wasn’t very well thought-out in the first instance. Regardless, I still think this is an enjoyable story and worth reading, as the prose and descriptions of ordinary, domestic life are exquisite.

[Lotte · Rating 4 out of 5]

Ahh, this would've easily been a 5-star-read if it hadn't been for the ending.

[Eric Anderson · Rating 3 out of 5]

If you hate the ending of a novel after really enjoying the majority of the story is it still a successful reading experience? It's a tricky question and one I've been left pondering after finishing “Small Pleasures”. Set in the late 1950s it follows Jean, a journalist at a local paper in the suburbs of London. Though she's around 40 years old she still lives with her mother whose cantankerous and overbearing manner leaves little room for Jean to have a personal life. Jean is assigned to write a feature about Gretchen, a Swiss woman who claims her daughter is the result of a virgin birth. During the process of researching this curious case Jean gradually develops a personal relationship with Gretchen, her husband Howard and their daughter Margaret. The author skilfully evokes the atmosphere of mid-20th century England alongside a compelling mystery which plays out in such an interesting way. It's a delight how Jean's fluffier news pieces about domestic matters are interspersed throughout the novel. Most of all, I grew to feel strongly emotionally involved with Jean whose quiet but painful loneliness is assuaged by her growing affection for this family. It's also very intriguing how this personal story intertwines with the facts Jean uncovers surrounding Margaret's birth. But the novel ends with a dramatic event which feels entirely disconnected from this gentle and beautifully immerse tale and it's left me feeling betrayed.

Read my full review of Small Pleasures by Clare Chambers on LonesomeReader

[Tina · Rating 3 out of 5]

I hate to say it but yes, I'm an outlier when it comes to this book. I read Clare Chambers, "Learning to swim" some years ago and thoroughly enjoyed her storytelling. This time around the writing is still good but the story was very SLOW.

While the premise was pretty intriguing and started out strong it quickly dwindled for me.

The story is set in 1957 and Jean Swinney, who writes for the local paper has been contacted by a Swiss Woman named Gretchen who makes a claim that her ten year old daughter, Margaret is the result of a virgin birth. The paper's editor is intrigued by this claim and Jean is instructed to investigate and write a story about it. Throughout the process Jean becomes close to Gretchen's family - her daughter and her husband.

I liked the story in the beginning but then it quickly switched direction and began to focus on a love-affair. A love-affair that was just plain boring for the most part. Then out-of-the-blue something else switches direction. Then comes that ending. It was abrupt and I did not catch on right away. I went back to read it again. Perhaps it was clever yet sad. We don't always need a happy-ever-after ending although I think it might have been deserving of one here.

[Terrie Robinson · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Small Pleasures" by Clare Chambers is a story about how quickly and unexpectedly life can change.

"The journey into love was so effortless and graceful; the journey out such a long and labored climb." ~ Jean Swinney

It's 1957 in London's south-east suburbs where 39-year-old Jean Swinney lives with her mother. She's a feature writer with the North Kent Echo, a local newspaper. She's also unlucky at love and has what one might refer to as a liminal life. Day after day, all things in Jean's life remains the same.

Change may be in the air though. Gretchen Tilbury has written a letter to the editor of the North Kent Echo in response to a small article buried deep within the pages concerning parthenogenesis titled, "Men No Longer Needed for Reproduction!"

Gretchen claims her 10 year old daughter, Margaret to be born without the involvement of a man. The paper is interested in running a story about this and Jean, being the only woman at the table, is assigned with the challenge of investigating Gretchen's claim of a virgin birth.

The further the investigation progresses the deeper Jean becomes entwined in the lives of the Tilbury family. Her personal life begins to feel interesting and exciting, and Jean feels different and happier. She's changing!

But is Jean truly prepared for the relationships she's creating with Gretchen, Margaret and Gretchen's husband, Howard? Will she be able to cope with how these changes may play out? Good or bad?

I love the character of Jean! She's real and painfully human. She deeply cares for Gretchen and her family. She embraces them at the same time she embraces change. The humorous side of this character is my favorite but there seems to be pain lingering deep inside of her. This character has been written with such depth!

I enjoyed this story and can visualize these relationships taking place in Mid-Century-Anywhere. The writing is descriptive and visual, yet simple. I loved how the author's writing carried me through the backstories and then into the newness of each relationship.

I don't necessarily like how this story ends but isn't that the way of life? $hit happens!

I highly recommend!

Thank you to NetGalley, William Morrow and Custom House, and author Clare Chambers for a free ARC of this book. It has been an honor to give my honest and voluntary review.

[All My Friends Are Fictional · Rating 2 out of 5]

The novel started to drag a lot from the middle. It also didn't sit right with me that it low-key villainizes queer people. The lesbian relationship felt like an afterthought and solely serves the plot to justify the straight romance. I'm failing to see what this novel wants to say and the messages it sends are very confusing. The rushed and foreseeable ending alongside the many unfinished storylines sadly brings my rating even further down. There are some nice pieces of writing here and there, but that's just it. I'm struggling to understand why this novel was longlisted for the Women's Prize, considering how many marvelous novels didn't make the cut.

[Margaret M - (having a challenging time and on GR as much as I can) · Rating 2 out of 5]

Small Pleasures and the book lived up to its title. Unfortunately. The amount of pleasure I experienced from reading this book was in fact small and modest.

A slow burn of a novel that starts in 1957 in the suburbs of London. One of the main female protagonists is Jean Swinney a reporter who is contacted over a very unusual claim. Gretchen Tibury claims her ten-year-old daughter is the result of a virgin birth. Was Gretchen telling the truth of is she a fraud? However, despite Jean’s reservations about taking on the story, soon her life becomes entwined with the Tibury family as they submit to endless tests to uncover the truth.

This was a disappointing read from a book longlisted for the Women's Prize for Fiction 2021. I did not engage with the storyline and subject matter of the virgin birth. If an author is planning to use the virgin birth in a story it needs to work and dealt with sensitively. In my opinion it didn’t work here. I didn’t particularly like any of the characters either. The book lacked pace, intrigue, and any real plot. The twists were also too obvious.

Reviews are a bit mixed on this one so please read other reviews before making your decision to read. It did not work for me personally.

[Coco Day · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

i love the way this was written. it felt very well researched and authentic to the time period and the story itself was so intriguing it’s hard to put down.

i was devo about the ending and tbh i think it was a bit unnecessary, i just want everyone to be happy :(

margaret was my fav character, she was just so sweet and innocent <3

[Elyse Walters · Rating 5 out of 5]

Immaculate conception—parthenogenesis—is a hard belief to swallow….
yet, the story is based on true events - in 1957….England…
before the days of DNA testing…..
making this a very real historical fiction novel…
— filled with mystery—and love….
but also
….the history and setting in rural Kent (a country in South East England- that borders Greater London to the north-west- a setting of both conflict and diplomacy), during the 50’s was enchanting…from the culture, the architecture, the bridges, schools, education, the hospitals, sports, radio, performing arts…..and a place of inspiration where notable authors and artists blossomed.
I’ve never been to Kent but I found learning about the community suburban life engaging. [a tad oppressive-a tad conservative-a tad dreadful- a tad charmingly simplistic, and my favorite: “Kent is sometimes known as ‘Garden of England’].

The ‘fantasy-possibility’ …. of a virgin birth was just the tip-of-the-iceberg that gave this story its heartbeat……
…..the wonderfully developed characters especially made my heart flutter and vibrant with ‘small pleasures’.

This was my first experience reading Claire Chambers. I’d love to read more of her books (wishing they came in Kindle-download formats)…,
as her writing is exactly the type of quiet -beautiful- heartbreaking - powerful type of storytelling I organically connect with ….. so naturally.

We meet feature editor of North Kent Echo: Jean Swinney… (age 39)….
….don’t many woman
*s t r e c h* their ‘39’ age …. out a little longer than many other ages?…
Jean is single-never married-has no children. Besides working full-time for the local paper - she’s also the springboard for her sickly mother’s demands.
Jean seems to have accepted her fate - never loved and a little lonely.
But then….
Life gets interesting for Jean when a letter arrives from 29-year-old Gretchen Tilbury - (living in Sidcup: southeast London), who believes the birth of her daughter (Margaret, whom we meet at age 10), was born without the help of any man.
Jean sets out to be the leading investigating journalist.
A friendship grows between Jean and Gretchen.
The friendship expands (one of the family).
Jean becomes closer Gretchen‘s daughter, Margaret, and husband, Howard.

A love story -of sorts - grows…

By the end … I felt those tears coming on.

Beautiful novel… THE BEST WRITING… filled with visuals, smells, humor, sadness, secrets, sacrifices…and couple of very unexpected turns…

Delightfully bittersweet storytelling…..
I’ll remember this book for how ‘alive’ the characters felt, friendship and love that grew and the gorgeous atmospheric setting.


“GOOD USES FOR SOUR MILK, LINOLEUM OR CLOTH…
washed with sour milk comes up brighter than with water. Sour milk also makes a good bleach for discolored white fabrics. Wring out articles in water, place in a bowl and cover with sour milk. Leave for forty-eight hours. Wash thoroughly and the articles will be snow-white”.

[Blair · Rating 4 out of 5]

Set in 1957, Small Pleasures tells the story of Jean, who works at a local newspaper – the North Kent Echo – as 'features editor, columnist, dogsbody and the only woman at the table'. She receives a strange letter from a woman who claims her 10-year-old daughter was the result of a virgin birth. When she follows the story up, she becomes close to the letter-writer, Gretchen Tilbury, and her family. At first this new friendship is a source of pleasure. In time, it becomes complicated: firstly, Gretchen's claim proves more difficult to debunk than anyone suspected; secondly, Jean develops feelings for Gretchen's husband Howard.

When I first read about this book, I was interested. I was drawn in by the beautifully designed cover – a number of Chambers' previous books sound thematically similar to this one, but due to the unremarkable/sentimental covers it's unlikely I'd have ever given any of them a second glance, even if they had crossed my radar. But I also thought Small Pleasures sounded so much like a carbon copy of an Anita Brookner plot (spinster protagonist 'living a limited existence with her truculent mother', the suggestion of a bleak ending) that I wondered how much I would be able to enjoy it.

I was both right and wrong. Jean is not an original character type, and it's clear Chambers has taken her cues from writers like Brookner, Barbara Pym and Elizabeth Taylor. Nevertheless, Small Pleasures is captivating (I read it in a day), emotive, and the period detail is immaculate. The 'virgin birth' storyline, which I assumed would simply be a way to bring Jean and the Tilburys together, is actually a key part of the plot and becomes a mystery which Jean tries to solve. Also contrary to my expectations, Jean is allowed a sliver of happiness...

Small Pleasures has a heartbreaking ending. I'd put two and two together halfway through, so I knew what was coming, though I still desperately hoped it could be avoided. But no – prepare for tears.

I wasn't familiar with Clare Chambers before, but I was really impressed by this book. While there are no showy theatrics on display here, it builds to a quietly devastating denouement, and Jean is a beautifully crafted character.

I received an advance review copy of Small Pleasures from the publisher through NetGalley.

TinyLetter

[Diane S ☔ · Rating 4 out of 5]

1957 in a London suburb, Jean lives a rather staid life. She is close to forty, unmarried, lives with and looks after mother. She writes various columns for the local paper, Pam's piece, Garden week and Household hints.

"Has the stiffening at the back of your house slippers worn down?
I have successfully repaired several pairs by sewing a piece of old
collar inside. The semi-stiff I nd from a man's shirt is ideal and
will prolong the life of your slippers."

Her life flows a daily pattern until one day an article in the paper catches the eye of a woman. The article is on, parthenogenesis. reproduction from an ovum without fertilization, especially as a normal process in some invertebrates and lower plants.
"cyclic parthenogenesis is well displayed in aphids"

The woman writes that the birth of her daughter was a virgin birth and the paper allows Jean to discover if the woman is telling the truth or is a fraud. Jeans life will take an unpredictable but more fulfilling turn.

A quiet novel but the fifties setting and the character of Jean are well drawn. Interesting subject matter and an enjoyable read.

[persephone ☾ · Rating 3 out of 5]

i hate it when i can't side with the lesbians and have to empathize with a straight man 😔

[Amy · Rating 1 out of 5]

I was willing to overlook the clumsy writing and clunky, trite metaphors for an intriguing plot and the warm nostalgia of this book.

However - SPOILER ALERT - I am disgusted that the ‘reveal’ was a neurodivergent/disabled boy cast as a rapist. What a despicable plot device. This is not simply lazy, it is damaging and irresponsible. Just as I will not stand for JK Rowling’s most recent book casting a trans woman as a murderer, I will not stand for Chambers casting a disabled boy as a rapist.

I am so disappointed by this book and expect better. Clearly there is still a long way to go in the cause of equality, diversity and inclusion.

[Jessie Lewis · Rating 3 out of 5]

The writing in this book is measured, delivering a feeling of meandering prosaicness that evokes the lives depicted within, and is therefore very effective. The language is clever without being pretentious, and it’s a good read. But I didn’t find it an exciting read. The characters feel very real; they are nevertheless deliberately ordinary, and whilst the author really does succeed in showing them as real and ordinary, that makes them only as interesting as real and ordinary people. Which is, somehow, not very. So, effective, but for the same reason, a little slow for my tastes.
Although some reviewers enjoyed the ending, I couldn't understand the purpose of last twist. To me, linking this story with a real life event that undermined the entire plot for no obvious reason was frankly confusing, and unfortunately killed whatever immersion I’d gained in the story by the end. Perhaps I’m missing something, but it seemed gratuitously tragic in a way that didn’t seem to suit or be referenced within the tale. Had it not been for that I think I’d have given this four stars, because it may be sedate but it is well written. It just has a very arbitrary-feeling twist that stole my enjoyment of it at the last hurdle.

[Annabel Wearring-Smith · Rating 2 out of 5]

For most of this book I felt either nonchalant or bored: the plot was slow, the characters uninteresting and the prose slightly bland. I couldn’t exactly call it *terrible*, just not to my taste. Where the book was heading, in terms of the resolution to the so-called “virgin birth” mystery (which eventually began to play second fiddle to a much more complacent domestic drama) felt predictable. I did guess where it would end up, but I did not foresee just how bad that revelation would be, namely the vilification of its queer characters in service of heteronormativity and demonisation of the mentally disabled for “shock factor”. The end of this book left a bad taste and it’s conclusion felt unnecessary and cruel.

[Claire Fuller · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not my usual kind of fiction, but I enjoyed it. I liked the period details (it's set in 1957), and the fine observations of suburban life. It was a real comfort read: a mystery, a love affair, and a bit of nicely understated tragedy. Jean, a journalist, lives with her mother in the suburbs of London, when a woman writes in to Jean's paper that she has had a child by parthenogenesis. Jean sets out to investigate.

[Anne · Rating 5 out of 5]

It is many many years since I last read a novel by Clare Chambers, it's a long time since she published a book, and as soon as this arrived, I felt a surge of excitement. I love her writing, I think she's a much overlooked author, and look at that cover!

I was absolutely entranced by Small Pleasures, from the intriguing prologue, right through to that ending that is so emotional that it felt like I'd been punched in the gut. The writing is seamless, the story is beautifully woven. Not one word is wasted and the characters are so beautifully created that they felt so real, as though they were part of my world, living and breathing beside me.

Jean Swinney is a fairly unusual woman of the 1950s. Single and living with her mother who is demanding and difficult, she's a reporter for the North East Echo. Jean holds her own amongst her male colleagues, affording a certain amount of respect from them. Her Editor is particularly fond of her, offering advice and a sympathetic word when needed. When the newspaper receives a letter from Swiss born Gretchen Tilbury; claiming that her ten-year-old daughter Margaret is the result of a virgin birth, the story is given to Jean to follow up.

Ever the investigator, and with a charm and empathic nature that puts people at ease, Jean soon finds herself immersed in the life of the Tilbury family. Gretchen's story, whilst quite extraordinary, doesn't appear to be that of a mad woman, or someone looking for attention. Her loving and mild mannered husband Howard does not disbelieve her and their daughter Margaret is intelligent and loving, despit her claims to hear voices of angels from time to time.

As Jean becomes closer to all members of the Tilbury family, she discovers that under the gleaming surface, this is a family with many secrets hidden. Jean's continued involvement with the Tilburys can only lead to heartache for her, but sometimes even the most sensible of women allow their heart to rule their head.

This author writes magnificently. Her prose is just sublime, from the descriptions of everyday things such as the falling rain and a suburban living room, to the more complicated affairs of heart and emotion, she never puts a word wrong.

The reader roots for Jean all the way through this outstanding novel. She's a quirky, sometimes spiky character with a deep rooted sense of right and wrong.
The Tilburys; both Gretchen and Howard are wonderfully created, total opposites and both leading lives that are perfect on the surface, yet tarnished with unrequited love and passion. It's a heady mix and the slow, but careful development of the characters is an absolute joy to be part of.

The ending of Small Pleasures is one that I will find hard to forget; it is shocking and brings the reader full circle, back to that mysterious prologue, but with such impact and emotional depth. I was reeling after turning the final page.

Welcome back Clare Chambers, you have been sorely missed. I can only hope that readers are not kept waiting so long for her next book. Undoubtedly one of my top books of 2020.
Wonderful, just wonderful.

[Lisa Glaum · Rating 1 out of 5]

And in the end all that was alive and happy was heteronormativity and all the bad people who didn't comply were punished with illness, disaster and death.

[Rosy · Rating 2 out of 5]

Very "twee" and has a horrible old fashioned misogynistic vibe running through it. It's compelling though I'll give it that. Wouldn't recommend unless you really crave a fluffy, meaningless, slightly irritating read.

[Peter Boyle · Rating 4 out of 5]

Jean Swinney lives quite an uncomplicated life. It's the 1950s and she works as a journalist on the North Kent Echo, writing a weekly column that provides household tips. Now in her late thirties, she takes care of her elderly mother and spends her free time tending to the garden. One day, the newspaper receives a curious letter. A woman named Gretchen Tilbury claims to have had a virgin birth. Jean is intrigued and volunteers to investigate. She visits Gretchen, who makes quite a convincing case. She also meets her beautiful daughter Margaret, and Howard, her mild-mannered husband. The story brings excitement into Jean's world - if something like this could be true, it would make national headlines. But she also becomes close to the Tilbury family, and feelings begin to stir that she long ago given up on.

Jean has never been in a romantic relationship and she has made her peace with this. She even manages to convince herself that her average looks are a blessing in disguise:

"She had no illusions or anxieties about her own lack of physical beauty; her ordinariness, in fact, grew less irksome with every passing year. It had been dispiriting to be plain at twenty, but by forty it hardly mattered. Time had caught up with most of her prettier contemporaries and those with the most to lose seemed to feel its depredations the hardest."

But then love comes into Jean's life, most unexpectedly. I won't mention the subject of her affections for fear of spoilers. But with this person, even before anything has happened between the two of them, she feels:

"nothing but warmth and kindness and the certainty of some feeling not yet declared, but even so accepted and returned."

However, these feelings frighten her - she's terrified of the pain she will suffer if things don't work out:

"She wondered how many years – if ever – it would be before the monster of awakened longing was subdued and she could return to placid acceptance of a limited life. The journey into love was so effortless and graceful; the journey out such a long and laboured climb."

This book works on two levels. First there is the mystery of the virgin birth, which is compelling enough in its own right. But then there is Jean's story: the loneliness she tries not to think about, the happiness which has always seemed so far from reach, now tantalizingly close. She's a shy, good-natured person who has resigned herself to a life of solitude, until something miraculous happens. And as long-term singleton myself, I absolutely rooted for her. The ending, I'm not so sure about. I didn't dislike it, but it seemed unnecessarily cruel. Nevertheless, Small Pleasures is a triumph: a compassionate tale of longing and desire, beautifully told.

[Sophia · Rating 1 out of 5]

Sigh. The old “the gays can never be happy together, they are not able to take care of kids (or rabbits!), and they will live in utter misery until they literally beg their previous spouses to take them back” aspect made me wonder if this book wasn’t only set in the 1950s but also written back then. But no. This depressing narrative was repeated in 2020 and it just put yet another queer reader in a really bad mood.

[Hugh · Rating 4 out of 5]

Longlisted for the Women's Prize 2021

This is the third of the seven books I decided to read following the announcement of the Women's Prize longlist, and the most enjoyable of the three. Its setting is suburban Kent in the late 1950s, and there is a timeless quality about the writing and construction which seems fitting. The only reason I didn't give it a five star rating is that some of the plotting is a little too visible.

As she explains in her afterword, two real events contributed to the inspiration for the story. One was a 1955 newspaper competition to find a virgin mother, which found one woman who passed all of the medical tests apart from the final skin graft, and secondly the Lewisham train crash of 1957 in which 90 people died, which bookends the story.

The main protagonist Jean is a journalist in her late 30s who works for a local newspaper, and lives with and cares for her mother, who is almost housebound. She is given the task of investigating a letter from Gretchen Tilbury in which she claims to have borne a child whose conception coincided with a period in a nursing home where there were very few visitors. As in the real case, the daughter Margaret is strikingly similar to her mother, and the early medical tests suggest that Gretchen's story may be true. Alongside this is the story of Jean's relationship with Gretchen's husband Howard, which strengthens as she discovers that their apparently happy marriage is not all that it seems.

The mystery is eventually resolved without recourse to anything miraculous, and Chambers uses the train crash to avert an overly sentimental resolution..

The book is strong on character and period detail, and Jean's predicament is handled very sympathetically, as is the apparent miracle at the heart of the story.

[Carolyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

I came to the end of Small Pleasures, read the afterword, and by the acknowledgments I had a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. Set in the 50s, Small Pleasures is about Jean, a 40-year-old journalist who isn’t married, has no children, and lives with—and cares for—her mother. She becomes involved with a family (a mother, her husband and their daughter) who are the subject of a story she’s writing, which ends up changing all their lives forever.

There is a proper plot to this story, a mystery even, which is predictable, but that doesn’t matter because the plot isn’t the thing I find most interesting. The beauty of this story is in its quieter details: the questions it probes around the things we’re willing to sacrifice for love and our own happiness; the pleasure and happiness that’s often sacrificed in the name of practicality, morality, or duty; the melancholic but beautiful reality of life with all its ups, downs, disappointments, dissatisfactions, and inevitable tragedies. But, within all of that, there are little moments of wondrous joy, which, in our short, short lives, are nothing short of pure magic. I’ll be bold and say I think Small Pleasures is (quietly) profound.

[Indieflower · Rating 5 out of 5]

Set in 1957, this tells the story of Jean, a 39 year old newspaper reporter investigating a young woman who claims that her daughter's conception was the result of parthenogenesis, in effect, a virgin birth. I really enjoyed this, the gentle pace, the characters and the wonderful sense of time and place were a joy to read. I loved the feeling of being in another time, and I loved Jean with her stoicism in the face of loneliness and heartbreak, and her wry sense of humour, I really rooted for her. I kind of wish the ending could have been different, but art imitates life, and life really sucks at times. All the feels, 5 stars.

[Teresa Driscoll · Rating 5 out of 5]

My favourite book so far this year.
This is one of those special novels that achieves a quiet wonder. The wit and the tender observations in this story remind me of the joy of the first time I read Anita Brookner's Hotel du Lac. I don't mean that Small Pleasures is any way derivative; it's not. But it has that same haunting and deeply affecting quality, capturing so perfectly the true ache of what it is to be human.

[Ligia Stan · Rating 1 out of 5]

It baffles me that this book was nominated for any prize.

A mildly charming writing style, with a sort of interesting plot that just fizzles out in the laziest plot twist I have read recently. All of this topped with a shockingly silly ending that brings nothing to the narrative, if anything, ruining everything built so far altogether.

Very disappointing.

[Mai H. · Rating 1 out of 5]

This was not a small pleasure. The pleasure didn't exist. The premise is a journalist goes to interview a woman claiming she had a virgin birth. Obviously, this can't be true. I won't spoil the reveal, but it was rather ableist.

📖 Thank you to Goodreads and Mariner Books

[Patricija || book.duo · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5/5

Kas čia buvo? Ne, ne, KAS čia buvo? Kai sakau, kad po šitos knygos pabaigos turėsit susirinkti save, susirankioti širdį po gabaliuką nuo žemės, nusivalyti dulkes ir susidėti atgal per burną, kurioje jau ir taip gumulas, tai neperdedu. Ar tokios pabaigos reikėjo? Nežinau. Nežinau. Bet jaučiuosi tokia kvaila, tokia apgauta, kad nesusigaudžiau, kad mane užliūliavo, lyg burtininkas gatvėje, atliekantis rankų miklumo triukus. O užliūliuojamai čia būti lengva. Taupus, lengvas stilius – ne veltui autorė mylima ir Chevalier, ir Patchett, ne veltui čia Women‘s Prize for Fiction – čia tokia lėtai tiksinti bomba, tokia graži ir estetiška, kad net nepagalvotum, jog yra kam sprogti. Ir čia paslaptis iki pat galo, kuri tampo už nosies tave lyg kvailiuką, o ir įtikina, kad iš tiesų gi visi mes norime kuo nors tikėti ir kuo nors pasitikėti. Ir tikrai ne visada galime pasitikėti net savimi pačiais. Ir kas tada?

Autorė rašo taip sklandžiai, kad net absoliučią buitinę kasdienybę pateikia su magišku lengvumu. Ir tikrai, knyga lengva – apie sunkius dalykus, tačiau įgudusio šokėjo žingsniu dėliojant kojas – įtari, kad puantuose sunkiasi kraujas, kad nagai lūžta, raumenys dega, bet žiūrėti vis tiek gražu, jei tik pajėgi užsimiršti. Ji ypatinga, ji nuostabiai Gabrielės Šilobritaitės išversta. Duočiau jai pilnus 5* negailėdama, bet tiesiog nepajėgiu iki galo nuspręsti, ar tokios pabaigos tikrai reikėjo. Bet čia tokie išvystyti veikėjai, toks žodžių baletas, toks atmosferiškumas, taip tobulai kuriama aplinka, laikmetis, jausmas, kad nežinau, kam šios knygos nerekomenduočiau. Gal absoliutiems netikėtojams? Kurie negali, o gal nenori tikėti niekuo? Bet ne, rekomenduoju ir jiems. Jie ras papildomų įrodymų, kodėl tikėti – visiškai neverta. Sakiau gi, kad knyga – magiška.

[Natalia · Rating 2 out of 5]

//TW// Discussion of rape and lesbophobia.

Fuck off.

(Some semblance of a review to come once I gather my thoughts. What the hell was this.)

Okay it's been like five minutes let's get into it. First of all, I was having a great time with the first 200ish pages. It wasn't something I would normally read (I won't lie I picked this up 100% for the cover) but I think it was written very well and the story was interesting. Also, cheating stories are a guilty pleasure of mine- I appreciate the scandal, betrayal, and drama of it all. (This was not, as it turns out, a story of people being unfaithful, but rather the two main characters being kind-of unfaithful whilst the author tries to convince you that they are not only morally ok but the victims of this story. But I digress.) However, around 250 pages in we got introduced to... the LESBIANS *cue intensely dramatic music*- oh the horror!!

Look, this shit is set in 1958- I'm not expecting our cishet protagonist to be a radical queer ally, but ho-lee shit dude. The villainisation if the two lesbian women in this novel unfuckingbelievable. They are given no sympathy, except in a few passing remarks from Howard made by the author SOLELY to make him seem incredibly kind and nice and blah blah BLAH everyone feel bad for straight guy that got betrayed and ignore the oppressed couple living in a time where their relationship was illegal. Rather, the couple are seen as impulsive, promiscuous, dangerous, selfish, and stupid. I could elaborate on every goddamn adjective there, but I really don't want to. Just thinking about it makes me feel like shit. And I tried, I promise you I TRIED to see this in a metatextual lense, to critically view whether these ideas stem from a main character from the 1950s who does not reflect the author's actual beliefs or from the actual author. But honestly? This book bends over fucking backwards to make everything Jean does seem kind and good and self-sacrificial because dear old Jean is a perfect saviour who puts everything aside for her mother and her job and Margaret. SHE’S the victim. Howard, one of the lesbians’ husband and Jean’s crush, is the victim. They are the dutiful ones who must sacrifice everything for these Evil Selfish lesbians. Jean’s hostility is vindicated at every turn. Chambers is even careful to include an unsubtle paragraph about how Jean couldn’t possibly be homophobic, because she liked Martha at first and she was ‘intrigued’ by lesbianism and would never be a conservative!!! It just so happens that the lesbians she comes across are awful terrible idiots who don’t care about anyone but themselves! It’s a shame she can’t seem progressive, but these gays are really forcing her hand here- I mean, one of them married the guy she likes and forced herself through sex with him before cruelly denying it to him for the rest of their marriage- isn’t Howard the real victim here?? (For those who can’t tell- *lights up giant neon sign reading SARCASM*).

Oh also, as we’re well into spoiler territory here and I have already implied it- the ‘virgin’ mother is the lesbian. Except it was not a virgin birth- she was raped whilst unconscious (because her evil, more outwardly lesbian gf convinced her to od- fuck this fucking book) and impregnated by a mentally ill man. I cannot tell if mental illness is getting demonised OR if it’s being used to excuse the horrific thing he did. Possibly both, somehow. She already forced herself through sex with a man despite not wanting that, but that’s obviously not enough trauma, she needs to be outright raped too. So, that’s a lesbian woman trapped in a loveless heterosexual marriage in 1958 Britain; she then runs away into abject poverty in order to live with the women she loves, only to find the relationship fall short of what she expected and for the poor conditions of her new home to be so bad she begs (yes, BEGS) to go back to her sham marriage; she is continually seen as the villain by Howard, Margaret, and Jean; AND in the end, her daughter, who she states is the best thing in her life, is a product of a rape. This is like a shitty exploitative gay trauma movie if it was centred around a straight person who thought their life being like, kind of mundane, was a far greater tragedy. Can’t even let the lesbians be the main characters of their trauma porn. Christ.

Obviously, that was my main issue with the story. But some other things that made it fall flat:
- Howard is not allowed to be flawed, which makes him boring and unrealistic. I’m tired of love interests who need to be perfect because then they’re easy to love, making the love story less satisfying.
- On top of that, the romance happened too fast. I always seem to think this, so maybe I just prefer tragic love stories spanning years or something. But either way, these two hang out like twice and fall for each other and it’s dumb. I liked the build-up honestly but there needed to be more of it before any confessions or realisations of their love or anything like that.
- The ending. Bro you made me read two boring heterosexuals villainise queer people for 150 pages whilst fucking each other and then you don’t even let them end up together and kill off the guy. Bury your straights, I guess.
- Wait I’m not done- this ending is sad for the sake of being sad, without any acceptable elements of that type of ending- there is no catharsis to be had in the tragic ending. It just is, and then the book ends, and you’re wondering why you ever bothered to get invested in the story at all. It just felt like a smug pretentious gotcha from the author.
- The setting feels like an afterthought- in the afterword Chambers states she did this to fit in with the real life train crash that happened in the city in the book. There are vague references to misogyny and period-appropriate elements but it all felt glossed over in shiny paint. It failed to really interrogate life as a woman and as a lesbian in 1958. Also, I'm pretty sure there are zero people of colour in this book (and race is, conveniently, never brought up once in the whole things, lest risk talking about how it was a pretty shitty fucking time to be nonwhite then (and now, of course)). It's all very safe in its depiction of everything in this era despite it being, you know, *kind of* (understatement of the century) awful if you weren't a cishet white able-bodied rich guy! (Did I forget to mention Howard, the cishet white able-bodied rich guy, is the most victimised and pitied character in the book? Hate it here!)
- God, okay, I think that’s it. I want to take a shower.

Tldr; If you hate gay people and love being disappointed you should read this.

[Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer · Rating 3 out of 5]

She tried to remember what life was like before she had met the Tilburys just six months ago. The days had passed without great peaks and troughs of emotion; her job and the domestic rituals that went with each season had been sufficiently varied and rewarding to occupy her. Small pleasures – the first cigarette of the day; a glass of sherry before Sunday lunch; a bar of chocolate parcelled out to last a week; a newly published library book, still pristine and untouched by other hands; the first hyacinths of spring; a neatly folded pile of ironing, smelling of summer; the garden under snow; an impulsive purchases of stationery for her drawer – had been encouragement enough.

She wondered how many years – if ever – it would be before the monster of awakened longing was subdued and she could return to placid acceptance of a limited life. The journey into love was so effortless and graceful; the journey out such a long and laboured climb.

I read this book due to its longlisting for the 2021 Women’s Prize. That prize, at its best, uses its longlist to draw in readers (from those more focused on “literary” fiction to those who prefer more of a story) by giving them a number of books that appeal, and then exposes them to a wider range of books. And overall I would have to congratulate the judges this year for a wide ranging longlist – in themes but also styles (my criticisms would be around the absence of small press fiction and of Asian and Antipodean voices).

This is the author’s first book for 10 years and despite a previous book having won a Romantic Novelist’s Association award, by far her most successful, having earned a “word-of-mouth” reputation last year among readers and reviewers.

The main character of the book, set in South East London/Kent in 1957 is Jean Sweeney – a journalist for the (fictional) North Kent Echo where she mainly writes a series of women’s interest columns (general observations, garden and household tips etc). Jean lives a quiet and unobtrusive life with her ageing, house bound and dependent widowed mother – feeling that life and love have largely passed her by.

The plot of the book is based on two real events in 1957 that the author researched.

A small article in the middle pages of the paper on parthenogenesis in other species (and a dramatic headline “Men No Longer Needed for Reproduction”) leads to a reader Gretchen Tilbury writing in to say that she has always been convinced that her (now ten year old) daughter was born without any man being involved.

Jean is sent to investigate and finds out that the supposed virgin birth took place while Gretchen was a bed bound invalid in a Nursing and Convalescent Home. Despite her obvious initial scepticism, she is quickly won over by Gretchen’s apparent honesty. Further the initial scientific evidence 9jean quickly involves some of the researchers involved in the initial article) cannot disprove Gretchen’s claim and those who were in the home at the same time (either as patient or staff) both vouch for Gretchen’s fundamental honesty and fail to see any more rational explanation for her pregnancy.

She is also gradually drawn to and welcomed into Gretchen’s household – her understated older husband Howard (who runs a small jewellers and who believes implicitly in the story of his wife – who he married when she was a single mother) and the girl Margaret (herself convinced she hears from angels). And just as she recognises the contrast between Gretchen’s happier domesticity and her own rather bitter arrangements, she also starts to see a few contradictions or questions in Gretchen’s behaviour.

On one level the novel is both a nostalgic one – with a very authentic and evocative setting in the post WWII, pre-swinging sixties years of suburban South East England – and a classic one, drawing with its thoughtful and undramatic prose and understated but deep characterisation on some of the novels of the same period. And I suspect that explains some of its appeal in a period of lockdown.

One of the key themes though – the role of women as carers is both a timeless one, and with the societal increases in longevity not matched by quality of life, and one perhaps more relevant now than ever.

What I liked less about the book was the main narrative.

The set up of Gretchen’s story is interesting but I struggled to see how the author could resolve it satisfactorily – and, for me at least, she did not – with an explanation that seemed to come more from a Victorian melodrama.

And the second true life event which frames the story means that for me at least the end was more than a little telegraphed – although from reviews it seems that other readers found it very effective and affecting. I really cannot think why something in the book was not moved to be the last page.

Overall far from my personal favourite on the longlist – but still a valuable addition.