This book is pure gold. It’s short, sharp and outstanding. Our narrator is Jane Fairchild: a 98 year old author. She had a successful career with a string of bestselling novels. In this book, she reflects back on a particular day in her youth (Mothering Sunday 1924) when she was working as a maid for an upper class family. She has never told anyone what happened on that day, and uncovers the events in beautiful snippets.
I’m normally a little indifferent to day-in-the-life narratives because they lack development but this novel is so perfectly measured and cleverly written that it blew me away. Nothing particularly dramatic happens to Jane on this day, and yet we get a sense of how the events of that particular Sunday have had a profound impact on her life this far. Swift writes with such ease and flair; the entire novel reads like a honeyed drops of wisdom — never contrived but always meaningful. Despite the very ‘British’ quality of his prose, Swift’s writing glows with honesty and warmth. In between the story of the day in question, we also get more personal reflections from our narrator on how this day has impacted her beyond measure.
It’s a fluid and compelling journey through time and Swift peppers the narrative with retrospective remarks that catch the reader unaware. There was a moment during my reading of this novel that I was dumbstruck, mouth agape, for a good few minutes. More than anything, the exciting thing about this novel s just how bloody clever it is. I’ve read Swift’s work before and admired his style, but this book definitely puts him on the map as one of our most innovative and ingenious living authors. The way he pieces the puzzle of the day together and weaves past reflection with present perspective is entirely jaw-dropping. This moving and unique novel needs to be read. It’s utterly criminal that more people aren’t talking about this novel’s quiet power.
