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.
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