The princes in the Tower haunt a story of wartime evacuation, exploring sanctuary and captivity with compelling results
Resonant themes … Sonya Hartnett has spoken of the construction of her novels as being akin to musical composition. Photograph: Greg Beyer
The eve of the London blitz, and the two Lockwood children are being evacuated, northwards and first class, with their mother, to the Lancastrian rural mansion of their Uncle Peregrine. Jeremy, 14, is stiff-necked and furious; he wants to stay and prove himself a man by doing something noble towards the war effort. Cecily, 12, dim and self-centred, is excited but weepy about parting with Daddy. En route to Heron Hall, they half-heartedly scoop up a younger, lower-class evacuee, May. "I chose her at the town hall – just like picking a kitten from a basket," Cecily tells her uncle. At safe adventuring distance from the Hall stand the ancient ruins of Snow Castle. In after-dinner episodes, Peregrine relates a dark tale, connected to the castle, of a murderous duke's progress to the throne 400 years ago. Bold May and reluctant Cecily make expeditions to the castle where they encounter two insubstantial, fearful but imperious boys clad in antique "pantomime" costumes.
Sonya Hartnett has spoken of the construction of her novels as being akin to musical composition. Even in the brief synopsis above, one can hear themes from Blyton, Bawden and especially Lewis. But the instrumentation is Jane Austen's. This delicious novel is rich in irony, both linguistically and structurally. Cecily is a clumping, junior Emma Woodhouse in her misplaced, yearning possessiveness towards May. Her uncle is a saturnine version of Mr Bennet. When biscuits go missing, he tells his young guests that "Cook believes there are rats in the larder. If not rats, mice. If not mice, weevils. If not weevils, children."
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Sonya Hartnett has spoken of the construction of her novels as being akin to musical composition. Even in the brief synopsis above, one can hear themes from Blyton, Bawden and especially Lewis. But the instrumentation is Jane Austen's. This delicious novel is rich in irony, both linguistically and structurally. Cecily is a clumping, junior Emma Woodhouse in her misplaced, yearning possessiveness towards May. Her uncle is a saturnine version of Mr Bennet. When biscuits go missing, he tells his young guests that "Cook believes there are rats in the larder. If not rats, mice. If not mice, weevils. If not weevils, children."More
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