Judith Barrow’s ‘One Hundred Tiny Threads’ reawakened my reading addiction. I stretched on a Devon beach, during a heatwave, but sat in Lancashire during 1911. Vivid figurative language moved me from the colours of a Monet painting to a Lowry painting.
One Hundred Tiny Threads is the prequel to Judith’s Howarth family saga but was the perfect book to begin with. Bill was trapped down the mine and the explosion deafened me. I stood in the dark, grimy streets as the ‘knocker-upper’ tapped on the Winifred’s window. I forgot the heat of the sun as ‘frost patterns covered the panes of the windows’. ‘The clatter of clogs’ on the cobbles turned my head to the dark streets and ‘the feeling there was a shadow lurking around the corners’.
Despite shivering with Winifred, I found warmth in her friendship. Winifred presented me with an honest account of a woman’s plight during the beginning of the last century. Her rebellion against her dominant mother placed me firmly on Winifred’s side. I was driven mad to discover Winifred’s mother’s secret; I could not fathom her bitterness. Barrow demonstrates why Winifred needs to befriend Honora, a suffragette, and why she finds comfort in Conal’s arms. Every strand of the characters’ backgrounds is woven into their actions and responses.
I felt for Winifred. Her naivety and love for Conal present tender moments. How I ached for Winifred’s happy ending. The narrative wrenches the heartstrings and punches your senses, but the strands of the plot are taught and well structured. But there is no time to mollycoddle the characters: there’s ‘nowt’ you can do as the characters face life, love and loss. I advise you set time aside and listen to the characters’ voices and let the gritty drama unfold. The dulcet tones of the Lancashire people rattle your emotions with the powerful dialogue. Be aware of Ethel who makes the ‘air seem rancid with hostility.’
The artfully woven narrative is populated with real folk: ‘good Northern stock’. I couldn’t abide the hardship yet couldn’t stop reading. I found myself thinking about the characters when not reading. The folk got under my skin. Barrow is not afraid to introduce some horrible people and conflict. I loathed Bill because he is a hard-faced, rotten man. Yet, I was forced to explore the motivation for his character. It was most annoying to feel empathy for Bill. I wanted to banish him from the book and leave him to rot in a dark alley. Barrow made me understand the motivation for this bloke’s actions.
Winifred was isolated from her mother Ethel and inhibited by the era but wanted to shake off the corset of stifling expectations. Ironically, Winifred’s mother inhibits her more than her father. Barrow demonstrates how women like Ethel were trapped by their own boundaries and expectations: fear of society’s rejection isolates those who have dared to follow their hearts. Women such as Winifred who dared to articulate the inequalities of women in normal settings:
Women such as Winifred paved the way for the birth of the modern woman.
‘…all they wanted was equality in voting; to be able to have as much as their husbands, their brothers, their fathers.’
Barrow squeezes every drop of empathy from her reader, because she explores the complex psychological motivations of the characters. It is testimony to Judith Barrow that she creates such powerful characters. The rhythms of the characters’ words are combined with the ebb and flow of the narrative to produce a phenomenal drama of epic proportions. I am delighted there are more books to read in this family saga. However, I am fearful for Winifred’s plight in the remaining novels. shh – don’t tell me what happens. I am not sure Winifred has made a good choice of husband, but he does believe Winifred ‘was the one woman to keep him on the straight and narrow.’ Narrative perspectives of Winifred and Bill provide clever contrast in life experiences. The basis for their relationship is dynamic, yet I sense some threads will fray in the other books. Florence said, ‘men will have their way’; I hope this is not an omen.
The Suffragette Movement, World War One and the Irish War of Independence are threaded into the fabric of the novel. Hard times exasperate the loneliness suffered by the characters. I urge you to read One Hundred Tiny Threads to find out more about the texture of these characters’ lives – you won’t be disappointed.
Connect with Judith at:
Website: https://judithbarrowblog.com
Find out more about Judith at:
Twitter: @judithbarrow
https://www.facebook.com/judith.barrow.3
Please see all my book reviews at Books In Handbag and my website and blog at JessieCahalin.com.
Jaya was born in a place where ‘the tiny mauve and yellow flowers danced in the breeze as the snowy summits of Pin Panjal meditated in the morning sun.’ Despite the beauty and implied freedom and romance of the landscape, the women are inhibited by their culture and the ugly politics of war torn Kashmir. Jaya’s gentle, intelligent observations give an insight into her world as a Kashmiri girl. Her mother asserts ‘you’re a girl’ and believes that ‘love rides on reason, not romance.’ It is clear Jaya is destined to search beyond this and it is impossible not to admire her questioning.
Jaya wishes on a ‘shooting star’ and the author maps out Jaya’s destiny beautifully. The novel explores how the independent, free spirited mind can find flight if given the right opportunities. But the opportunities must be accompanied with an inquiring mind. Jaya’s entrapment in Delhi is as stifling as the intense heat which ‘pressed down on city life like a giant hand.’ Her value, as a potential bride, diminishes once her parents have been killed. She will find a way to escape a doomed arranged marriage – she is born to fight.
Tahir never examines his own world as he is too caught up in the conflict and grudges. The natural ebb and flow of the Jaya’s narrative is enchanting while we never get inside of Tahir’s confused, inhibited mind. The tale of two continents explores cultural difference: it is a wonderful book of contrasts. For instance, the peaceful setting Kashmir Valley translates ‘paradise on earth’ yet it conceals conflict. Jaya questions: ‘How could the landscape be beautiful when Alistair was suffering?’ Like Jaya, one must look beneath the surface.
This novel teaches us to have a respect and understanding of other cultures but we need the freedom to ask questions and pursue our ambition: above all, everyone needs to be loved. ‘Azadi’ (freedom) is a state of mind influenced by opportunities, the people we meet and the strength to ask pertinent questions.
Blow away the dust on Joshua’s books to reveal a ship. Can you see the ghost ship sailing in the distance and will this bring a bad omen? Dim the lights as the ghost ship gets closer. The characters present a tableau of the Victorian scenes. But what happened to the poor boy who was flogged? Can Eleanor’s investigation save the boy? Why does someone think that Eleanor is ‘going to kill him?’
I am getting carried away with this ‘detective lark’! Jan Ellis is so clever at writing the dialogue that I became completely absorbed and wanted to be amid the drama. Jan Ellis has skilfully woven the clues into the narrative. I envied Eleanor’s knowledge and read the book greedily in one sitting. I visited the bookshop, the fair and the parties so it was only right that I should be able to get involved in the investigation.
Alexa and Rosie are presented via a first person narrative, and this insight plays tricks with the reader’s mind – one questions whose ‘game’ is dominant. The contrasting characters are presented using animal imagery of the cat and the mouse. Careful choice of verbs indicates who is ‘ambushing’ the friendship.
Before reaching the crisis point, Alexa wears a mask of control like a cat waiting to pounce. Rosie, is forced to confront her vulnerability. She learns how ‘empathetic skills’ are viewed as weakness by some, if not ‘managed’. Rosie’s language flows, driven by emotions, and she explains:
The long sentence and outpouring of emotions amplify the sense of vulnerability. But the ‘sweet and sour’ characters begin to shift, as the dichotomy is not fixed. If one deconstructs the manipulator’s ‘game’ it is possible to fight back. However, Alexa becomes isolated, vulnerable and needs support. I was intrigued with the way that this story manipulated my emotions.
Leuschel cracks open the fragility of the human psyche in an artful manner, and clues about the characters’ vulnerabilities are woven into the text. This brutal, haunting story of the human psyche arms the reader with some survival tactics. Despite an uneasy feeling, one finds empathy for the manipulator. Perhaps, this novella will lead to a novel examining what shaped the manipulator’s behaviour, and what happens next.
The people in Flora’s life construct the narrative threads. Although, surrounded by supportive friends and family, Flora is secretive. Friends and family love Flora and there are tender moments. For instance, the letter that Flora’s father writes to the unborn child is incredibly moving. Her mother’s silent support is beautiful while support from her friends evoke humour. The constant in the narrative is the developing relationship that Flora has with Little Bump. Flora’s experience of her difficult pregnancy and analysis of her relationships pull the reader into the story. Is Flora hiding something? Each time it seems as if a mystery has been solved, the narrative moves on. Initially, the mystery of the child’s father intrigues. The reader longs for a certain man to be the father, yet the undertones of something unsettling unnerves and nudges the reader.
‘It is all a cruel game, this life of mine, as I begin to lose track of what is real and what isn’t.’
is safely stored in my handbag and can be enjoyed at any time, but a generous glass of Chateauneuf du Pape is a recommended companion. 
Like Sandra, the reader connects with the ‘fragile’ Tess who suffers ‘deep unease into the roots of her hair’. Stage, by stage Tess’s life is deconstructed. The comparison between Sandra’s life and Tess’s life is clever. On the surface, the elderly Tess is as vulnerable as Sandra’s children; but unlike the children, Tess has lived a life. Sandra asks a pertinent question:
The story reaches out to the reader offering a positive philosophy for life. Victims of emotionally and physically abusive relationships can gain courage from this story to take action, rather than applying the ‘basic tricks’ to survive. Perhaps, this groundbreaking story should be prescribed in counselling sessions.
Click to get a free copy from HeleneLeuschel.com
Tuscan Roots
I stopped at the mill ‘hidden in the folds of the Alps of the Moon, where the sun sets from the jewel red skies behind misted blue peaks.’ Anna’s mother once lived in a mill, and she explains ‘…the old building in ruins, crumbling into nothing seems to mirror what I am leaning of Mamma’s past.’ The Mill is ‘fragile’ and is a symbol of lost history and lost dreams that could be rekindled by the new generation. Sitting on the steps to read the letters and diaries, I sensed the ‘breeze that dances on the river’. Listening to the ‘sound of the river and distant sheep bells’, I could feel the loneliness of Ines. I am sure I heard the voices of the German soldiers who would have bathed there, and the whispers of the POWs and partisans hidden in the mountains.
I was completely spellbound by the characters and the clever structure of this novel. ‘
This novel evokes the senses and leaves the reader firmly fixed in Tuscany. Not the tourist’s Italy, but rural, down to earth Italy – ‘this landscape feels lived in’, and the author breathes life into ‘the ghosts from the past’. The story of the POW and partisans provide another dimension to this story, and I was impressed with how this was skilfully woven into the story.
