Latest news with #gothicnovel
Geek Dad
16-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Geek Dad
‘The Betrayal of Thomas True:' A Book Review
I originally overlooked The Betrayal of Thomas True because I don't tend to enjoy gothic novels. Later, I kept seeing it gain excellent reviews and started to feel that I'd missed an opportunity. I was very excited, therefore, when I was contacted out of the blue and asked if I'd like to review Thomas True on GeekDad. I jumped at the chance. It is indeed a gothic mystery novel, filled with the stink and grime of Georgian London. My beef with gothic novels is that they often lean too heavily on their gothicness, as though awkward characters, moody navel gazing, and bucket loads of coal dust can make up for a decent story. I am pleased to say that this is absolutely not the case for The Betrayal of Thomas True. OK, so it doesn't get much more gothic than the premise of Thomas True. A son cast out by his religious family comes to London to pursue a smelly career making candles. Heat and grime abound. Thomas, a somewhat hapless fellow, falls in with an unlikely crew of 'mollies.' This opens Thomas up to the new worlds, both that of the city and a whole hidden counter-culture. He discovers new sides to himself, though he is treated with mistrust amongst the long-term frequenters of the molly house, Mother Clap's. Georgian London is unforgiving of the antics of the mollies. A gay lifestyle is enough to have you pilloried or, more likely, hanged. There is money and status to be had from informing on those who do not conform. Thomas' arrival coincides with incidents of mollies being snatched off the streets and summarily executed. There is a snitch out there; a rat, and many people think it's Thomas. Can Thomas convince them of his innocence, or will he become another victim of the dreaded 'Rat?' Is he the Rat? Is the titular betrayal of Thomas True perpetrated on him or by him? The levels of suspense in this book are impressively maintained. As the characters race to reveal the identity of the rat, the tension is almost unbearable. There is jeopardy on every page. This was ramped up by the blossoming relationship between Thomas, and man-mountain carpenter, Gabriel. Gabriel has lost almost everything at the start of the novel, but he keeps putting one foot in front of the other, as he vies to defend his friends from the Rat and his bully boys. As Gabriel and Thomas become closer friends, it will crush Gabriel if anything should happen to Thomas or if it turns out that Thomas has anything to do with the rat. This ups the jeopardy stakes all the more. Alongside the story, The Betrayal of Thomas True is steeped in the history of gay London, and there are many nods and quips relating to gay culture and subcultures that have risen since. The levels of innuendo are impressive. There is a great deal of pathos engendered by the constraints of the times placed on Thomas, Gabriel, and the other mollies. It's impossible not to feel outrage at the plight of generations of people locked away from being their true selves, for all too much of history. Reading the novel, one feels glad that we live in more enlightened times, but also uneasy at the sense that backsliding has begun. The nagging sense that hard-fought equalities might be eroded, and that many men and women may find themselves hiding their true selves once again. Coincidentally, while I was writing this review, my wife had some training around equality and LGBT in the workplace. The trainer said that the question he is asked most is, 'Why is there not a Straight Pride Month?' Reading books like The Betrayal of Thomas True answers this question. Too long have people had to hide who they are. (For a more accessible answer to the same question, check out The Fights That Make Us by Sarah Hagger Holt) Despite my reticence about reading a gothic thriller, I thoroughly enjoyed The Betrayal of Thomas True. It's a book that works on multiple levels. Author A.J. West delivers a complex whodunnit, with skulduggery and evasion, shines a light on elements of London's overlooked history, and makes us think about equality and individual liberty in our own times. All delivered in a pacy, and if you pick up the hardback, beautifully bound, 300 pages. (My copy has lovely sprayed edges with a peacock motif.) Highly recommended. If you would like to pick up a copy of The Betrayal of Thomas True, you can do so here in the US and here, in the UK. (Affiliate Links) If you enjoyed this review, check out my other book reviews, here. I received a copy of this book in order to write this review. Liked it? Take a second to support GeekDad and GeekMom on Patreon!
Irish Times
31-05-2025
- General
- Irish Times
The Book of Guilt by Catherine Chidgey: A work of conscience and consequence
The Book of Guilt Author : Catherine Chidgey ISBN-13 : 9781399823623 Publisher : John Murray Guideline Price : £15.99 'Before I knew what I was, I lived with my brothers in a grand old house in the heart of the New Forest.' So begins Catherine Chidgey's quietly devastating novel, The Book of Guilt, a haunting blend of psychological fable, gothic parable, and slow-burn thriller. Set in England in 1979, it tells the story of Vincent, Laurence and William, identical triplets raised under the Sycamore Scheme, a secretive government project housed in an isolated care home. At first, there is something of a sleepy fairy tale in the way the boys are raised in isolation, their dreams reaching seaward, 'a gentle hushing as constant as the hushing of our own breaths, our own blood'. Overseeing them are three matriarchs, Mother Morning, Mother Afternoon and Mother Night, who monitor every detail of the boys' lives. Dreams are catalogued in The Book of Dreams, lessons in The Book of Knowledge and every offence in The Book of Guilt. READ MORE But beneath the routine, something feels wrong. This is not parenting, it is programming. The strangeness seeps in slowly, with devastating effect. The boys begin to question why their meals are laced with medicine or why their reading is confined to dusty encyclopedias. 'We didn't know the name of our sickness, and its symptoms varied from month to month and boy to boy; we just called it the Bug.' They are promised a reward, a place in the Big House by the sea in Margate, a paradise of endless play. Interwoven with their story is that of 13-year-old Nancy, kept inside by her overprotective parents in Exeter. Her growing claustrophobia mirrors the boys' captivity. Meanwhile, the Minister of Loneliness leads a government effort to dismantle the Sycamore Homes. Chidgey writes with surgical precision and emotional weight. Like Never Let Me Go, it gradually unveils a reality that feels disturbingly plausible. The speculative premise, that children are 'copies' raised for obedience and discarded at signs of deviance, becomes a chilling metaphor for institutional control. The Book of Guilt is a singular story that lingers, and burrows into the darker corners of childhood, surveillance, and what it means to truly see, or be seen. The result is a novel of conscience and consequence: quietly devastating, fiercely intelligent and unforgettable.
