The spies of Shilling Lane A novel

Jennifer Ryan

Large print - 2019

Mrs. Braithwaite, self-appointed queen of her English village, finds herself dethroned, despised, and dismissed following her husband's selfish divorce petition. Never deterred, the threat of a family secret being revealed sets her hot-foot to London to find the only person she has left--her clever daughter Betty, who took work there at the first rumbles of war. But when she arrives, Betty's landlord, the timid Mr. Norris, informs her that Betty hasn't been home in days--with the chaos of the bombs, there's no telling what might have befallen her. Aghast, Mrs. Braithwaite sets her bullish determination to the task of finding her only daughter. Storming into the London Blitz, Mrs. Braithwaite drags the reluctant Mr. Norri...s along as an unwitting sidekick as they piece together Betty's unexpectedly chaotic life. As she is thrown into the midst of danger and death, Mrs. Braithwaite is forced to rethink her old-fashioned notions of status, class, and reputation, and to reconsider the question that's been puzzling her since her world overturned: How do you measure the success of your life?

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Subjects
Genres
Historical fiction
Detective and mystery fiction
Mystery fiction
Published
[New York] : Random House Large Print [2019]
Language
English
Main Author
Jennifer Ryan (author)
Physical Description
496 pages (large print) ; 24 cm
ISBN
9780593102855
Contents unavailable.
Review by New York Times Review

NOVELS SET DURING World War II can seem dismayingly similar: Families are separated, dangerous missions are undertaken, friends disappear. The books may be engrossing but the formulaic plots sometimes leave a reader wanting an unexpected twist. Armando Lucas Correa's the daughter's tale (Atria, $27) inventively satisfies that want. What's more, it's better written and more tightly edited than most books in this genre, and the story line is breathtakingly threaded together from start to finish with the sound of a beating heart. Or more to the point, the silence between the heartbeats. The novel starts in present-day New York when an elderly woman, who has just received a package of letters from her past, collapses from a heart attack: "One ... silence, two... silence, three... silence, four, five. She took a deep breath, waiting for the next heartbeat." And from there we rush back in time, as if coursing through her bloodstream, to a young Jewish family caught in the vortex of anti-Semitism in late 1930s Berlin. Julius, the husband, is a doctor, a heart specialist; his wife, Amanda, runs a bookshop; they will soon have two young daughters. Julius insists on staying put, providing for his patients, thinking the madness will stop: "Why flee and start all over again?" But then Nazis come to Amanda's store to burn her books, the local synagogue is destroyed by fire and Julius is arrested. From his cell, Julius manages to get word to Amanda as he is dying, instructing her how to flee the country and providing her with money and documents. The plan is for her to put her children, ages 6 and 4, on a ship bound for Cuba, where they can live with her brother, and for Amanda to go to a small French village to live with an old family friend and wait out the war. But as she is about to put her daughters on the boat, Amanda has a lastminute change of heart: She sends her elder daughter, Viera, to Havana and takes her younger one, Lina, to France. Amanda sends letters across the Atlantic to Viera, but they all come back to her. Meanwhile, she needs to protect Lina from the war now coming to France, which means passing her off to one stranger after another, reminding her to count her heartbeats when she is afraid, just as Julius had always said to do. Correa's prose is atmospheric, but what's most fascinating about this novel is his portrayal of terrified yet strong female characters who anticipate future trials and methodically work through them. Amanda knows that each decision she makes will have an impact on the next, but her goal is always survival. IN MISTRESS OF THE RITZ (Delacorte, $28), Melanie Benjamin gives us another strong female character, only in this case she's trying to do more than just survive: Blanche Ross, a young American actress who arrives in Paris in the 1920s and marries Claude Auzello, who becomes the manager of the Hotel Ritz. Ah, the Ritz. The focal point of Parisian excitement and glamour with its celebrity guests: Coco Chanel, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway. Monsieur and Madame Auzello take pride in the Ritz, and their role in making the visitors feel "safe" and able to "breathe a little more freely." Until June 1940, that is, when the "top-hatted doorman in a black overcoat" is replaced by Nazi soldiers. From there, mystery, intrigue and suspicion descend on the hallways and behind the hotel's closed doors. Looking for life where death abounds, Blanche joins the Resistance. When D-Day arrives and reports that Allied forces have entered northern France make their way to Paris, she sees freedom on the horizon and makes a crucial misstep. It is a mistake that sweeps Blanche, her friends and her husband into a whirlwind of terror - brutal interrogations and imprisonment - and exposes the secret that she has been trying to hide ever since she decided to leave the United States. As Benjamin has proved before, she has a way of animating long-forgotten history. Inspired by the story of the actual Blanche and Claude Auzello, "Mistress of the Ritz" is a vividly imagined thriller about two enigmatic people who left behind tantalizing clues about their lives. if it's suspense you want, look no further than Jennifer Ryan's THE SPIES OF SHILLING LANE (Crown, $27). Fans of Ryan's debut novel, "The Chilbury Ladies' Choir," will find this book even better - and those who found that first novel plodding or slow on the uptake will be drawn in by this quick and delightful mystery set in London in March 1941. In the wake of her divorce and spurred by her demotion as head of her village's Women's Voluntary Service, Mrs. Braithwaite is forced to re-evaluate her life. She has a secret to tell and she heads to London to make amends and offer a confession to her only daughter, Betty. But Betty is nowhere to be found. Mrs. Braithwaite searches everywhere for her fiercely independent daughter, through the streets of London during the Blitz and in its hospitals filled with bombing victims. Mr. Norris, her daughter's landlord, becomes Mrs. Braithwaite's reluctant sidekick, and together they enter into dive bars, secret meetings of the British Union of Fascists and underground spy rings with double agents and fake passports. All the while they are looking for clues, trying to evade capture, kidnapping and worse - and becoming unlikely friends. As the plot develops, it becomes clear that Ryan has created more than a potboiler. She uses the story to explore maternal love and the sometimes fraught relationships between mothers and daughters as well as the capacity for friendship among strangers. Ryan's subtlety shines in her acknowledgment of the importance of remembering the people who pass through our lives ("I'd like people to talk about how I helped them," Mrs. Braithwaite says) and in her descriptions of how war and conflict can teach empathy ("I can hardly believe how much of life I notice now") and change people for the better. familial love is also at the center of Rachel Barenbaum's debut novel, A BEND IN THE STARS (Grand Central, $28), an epic march across Russia during the summer of 1914 against a backdrop of dual menace: the impending war with Germany and the mounting hostility of the czar's army toward the Jewish community. The novel features a cast of characters centered on two siblings, Miri Abramov, a young Jewish surgeon, and her genius brother, Vanya, a physicist who thinks he can complete Einstein's theory of relativity if he witnesses the Aug. 21 solar eclipse, and by so doing gain passage to America for his entire family. Early in the book, the siblings are forced to split up in this quest because of growing anti-Jewish sentiment. Vanya travels with Yuri, Miri's fiance, to join an American scientist who plans to photograph the eclipse. But after Vanya leaves, Miri discovers that he is in danger. With the help of a Russian Army deserter - whom she hides in her basement and cares for while he recovers from an injury - Miri goes in search of her brother. Their search is a perilous one, confronting Miri and her soldier companion with unexpected threats and testing their relationship. As Barenbaum poignantly writes: "Everything in our universe is made of pieces." Yet "no laws are absolute. Life, the universe, they aren't written in stone." The dialogue feels remarkably honest, and time passes in the novel like a train hurtling toward its destination with stops, starts and lurches. The history of the period and the region has been carefully studied, but Barenbaum carves a fresh story from some of its most evocative and disturbing details. IF YOU CAN'T GET ENOUGH of 20th-century Russia, leap ahead 50 years to THE RED DAUGHTER (Random House, $26), John Burnham Schwartz's novel about Stalin's only daughter, Svetlana Alliluyeva, who defected to the United States in 1967, leaving two children behind in Moscow. Svetlana's C.I.A. profile is revealed early in the book. It's a telling passage, one that sets up much of what follows in this sad, traumatic tale of Svetlana's life and her relationship with Peter Horvath, a young American lawyer whom the C.I.A. has tasked with bringing Svetlana to New York. (That lawyer is very loosely based on Schwartz's father, Alan.) The C.I.A. describes Svetlana as "an active, alert and intense individual," a "very dependent person used perhaps to being bullied by her powerful father." The report goes on to suggest that she is "prone to become a disciple or a follower," with a tendency to become "jealous and disappointed when others receive the acceptance and praise she wants" and "furious when she feels she has been misled or misdirected." The ensuing narrative proves just how prescient this analysis is. The story, which captures the mysterious Svetlana through her imagined journal entries and letters, as well as Horvath's "editor's notes," is lively and engaging. As a novel, "The Red Daughter" does exactly what good historical fiction should do: It sends you down the rabbit hole to read and learn more. Schwartz includes a great list of books that inspired him to write his novel and that readers might want to explore. Of special interest is the section on Svetlana's time in Scottsdale, Ariz., at Frank Lloyd Wright's Taliesin Fellowship, and her brief marriage to Sid Evans, a Wright apprentice and protege (modeled on the architect William Wesley Peters), with whom she has a son. Let's just say that there is another fascinating novel to be written about Peters and Wright's widow. SPEAKING OF FAMOUS DAUGHTERS, there's a new novel out about Alice Roosevelt, the oldest child of Theodore Roosevelt. Reading about Alice - her rebellious nature, her attention-grabbing antics - is always a pleasure. That said, american princess (Berkley, paper, $16), by Stephanie Marie Thornton, is long - and it drags at times. The novel is written in Alice's voice and divided into three parts. It begins when she is 17 years old. President William McKinley has just died in office, and Alice is about to become the first daughter. The book ends near the final moments of Alice's life at the age of 96. The first section sets the scene: Alice is the wild child in the White House, the "connoisseur of mistakes," carrying a pet snake around in her purse, smoking and chewing gum and jumping into a swimming pool fully dressed while on a diplomatic mission. There's no question that she is desperate for her father's attention. Despite all the warnings, she falls in love with Congressman Nick Longworth. Yes, it's fun - after all, she's a celebrity behaving badly. The book picks up in the second section when Alice comes into her own against the backdrop of Nick's numerous affairs and drunken behavior. It's perversely satisfying to see Alice torpedo her husband's congressional re-election as she helps her father's unsuccessful third-party campaign to upset President William Howard Taft in his fight against Woodrow Wilson. She clearly wants a divorce from Nick, but it's not going to happen, so her loyalties are with her father. Good for her. The third part, which recounts her relationship with Senator Bill Borah; the birth of her child, Paulina; the death of various men in her life; and Paulina's suicide at 32, offers abundant proof that life isn't just a game for Alice - that joy and heartbreak are real for her. The book is an ambitious one, and it could have benefited from more editing. There's a lot to take in. Still, Thornton has done a great deal of research, so much that at times you feel as if you're reading a memoir. It's hard to say no to a book about Alice Roosevelt. it should also be hard to say no to a novel about the endlessly fascinating poet Elizabeth Bishop. What's not to like about a novel that reimagines Bishop's time in 1937 Paris, hanging out at Sylvia Beach's bookstore and drinking champagne at Le Boeuf sur le Tóit cabaret on the eve of World War II? A lot, in the case of Liza Wieland's PARIS, 7 A-M. (Simon & Schuster, $26.99). Bishop's childhood, including her father's untimely death and her mother's mental breakdown, was unbelievably tragic, and her relationships in college and beyond provide much fodder to explore. Alas, Wieland's book is a disappointment. While some excitement and drama ignite nearly two-thirds of the way through the book, it's over before you can take it all in, and the writing is terribly disjointed. The ending skips through the years 1938 to 1979, wrapping up decades of Bishop's life in a mere 24 messy pages. If there is one positive outcome of reading this book, it is that it might make you want to rediscover Bishop's poetry, which, if you're like me, you may not have turned to since senior year of high school. Don't bother putting this novel in your backpack as you head out of town; pick up one of Bishop's collections instead. susan ellingwood is a former books and opinion editor at The Times.

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [June 2, 2019]
Review by Booklist Review

War changes people,"" says one of the characters in the latest from Ryan (The Chilbury Ladies' Choir, 2017), and that's certainly true for Mrs. Braithwaite. Following her humiliating divorce and subsequent ouster from her position as head of the village Women's Voluntary Society, she takes off for London to find her estranged daughter, Betty. When she arrives at Betty's boarding house in Shilling Lane, however, Betty is nowhere to be found. Mrs. Braithwaite bullies the landlord, Mr. Norris, into helping her search for her daughter, never mind that Mr. Norris lacks ""oomph."" Betty works for MI5, and once she gets over her surprise that it's her mother who rescues her from the clutches of British fascists, mother (with Mr. Norris' increasingly effective assistance) and daughter play cat and mouse with Nazi sympathizers and double agents. Along the way, Mrs. Braithwaite learns lessons about the true measure of success. Even with sometimes-vivid descriptions of the horrors of the blitz, there is a good deal of fun in this cozy caper, and fans of The Chilbury Ladies' Choir will eat it up.--Mary Ellen Quinn Copyright 2019 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Ryan (The Chilbury Ladies' Choir) again focuses on women braving the dangers of WWII in this exciting tale of espionage and love. In 1941, Mrs. Braithwaite is stripped of her vaunted village position as the leader of the Women's Voluntary Service for being too bossy. Mrs. Braithwaite, a woman of more gusto than height, heads to London to reconnect with her daughter, Betty, who she hasn't seen in two years. But when she gets to Betty's boarding house, no one has seen her in days; she also hasn't been to work at her listed employment for years. As Mrs. Braithwaite searches for answers, she makes a reluctant companion of Mr. Norris, Betty's landlord and a timid accountant who is worried Betty might be in trouble. Soon they discover Betty is working for British intelligence, and Mrs. Braithwaite and Mr. Norris become embroiled in a plot to root out Nazi-sympathizers in London. Mrs. Braithwaite shakes up Mr. Norris's life in unexpected, welcome ways as they form an unlikely friendship and almost get Betty captured while she is working undercover. With its eccentric, believable characters and plot of home front intrigue, this delightful drama will appeal to fans of Martha Hall Kelly. (June) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by Kirkus Book Review

Ryan (The Chilbury Ladies' Choir, 2017) presents a social climber in reverse in Mrs. Braithwaite, a recently divorced, not very well-off granddaughter of an earl just deposed from her position as head of the Women's Voluntary Service in her English village during World War II.Raised by her Aunt Augusta, a heartless snob, Mrs. Braithwaite has always been told her family is superior to others. When her WVS nemesis, Mrs. Metcalf, forces her out, Mrs. Braithwaite realizes that a secret Mrs. Metcalf knows about her will always make her vulnerable, so she decides to go to London to tell her daughter, Betty, about the secret, thus denying Mrs. Metcalf the upper hand. Arriving in Wandsworth Common, she meets Mr. Norris, Betty's landlord, and finds out that Betty has been missing for several days in the midst of the Blitz. Undeterred, Mrs. Braithwaite sets about searching for Betty, eventually enlisting Mr. Norris in this quest. As they make their way around war-torn London, unraveling the mystery of what kind of war work Betty has been doing and where she's been, Mrs. Braithwaite engages in some self-reflection. As the story unfolds, she and Mr. Norris become a team, thwarting a group of British fascists and helping a number of other people along the way. Mrs. Braithwaite transforms from a somewhat bossy and imperious person to a more likable one. The transformation is believable as she begins to turn outward and do her bit not because of any misplaced sense of rank or privilege, but out of more selfless concerns. Some of the minor characters are less-than-fully fleshed out, and the last part of the story feels superficial. The very end of the book leaves the door open to a possible sequel, and readers will want to know what Mrs. Braithwaite and Mr. Norris will get up to next.A cozy, entertaining historical spy story. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Chapter 1 Ashcombe Village, England March 1941 How do you measure the success of your life? Mrs. Braithwaite wrote determinedly in her notebook as the train sputtered out of the little station. She hadn't left her village for a year; hadn't been to London since the war began back in 1939. The journey to see her daughter was long overdue. Every so often the train would hurtle through a station, now nameless because all the station signs had been taken down at the beginning of the war to confuse any invading Nazis. None had come over yet, thank heavens. For now the Nazis were content sending planes across every night to bomb British cities to pieces--the Blitz, they called it, "lightning." Their intention at first was to take out factories and docks, but now they were bombing at random, trying to exhaust the Royal Air Force and break the spirit of the people. Mrs. Braithwaite muttered to herself. "Well, my spirit has well and truly been broken, but not by the Nazis." The previous morning, Mrs. Metcalf and the village matrons had demoted her from her rightful position as head of the local Women's Voluntary Service. "It was a joint decision," Mrs. Metcalf had said two ladies on either side of her. She had placed herself at the center of a folding table in the village hall while Mrs. Braithwaite was required to stand before them. "You have been in the top WVS position since the war began, and now we feel that it's time to pass the baton to a more," she paused, thinking of the right word, "a more thoughtful and considerate leader." Naturally, she meant herself. Mrs. Braithwaite had a sturdy frame, which she felt gave her lack of height more gusto. Her short hair was still a rich brown despite her fifty years, her face large and uncompromisingly oblong, her mouth drawn effortlessly into a frown. She narrowed her eyes at her old neighbor and so-called friend. "I've put my all into this group and this is how I'm repaid?" "The truth is, we're fed up with you bossing everyone around," Patience Metcalf stated with far less subtlety than her mother. A twenty-two-year-old who had married well and stayed in the village, Patience was the opposite of her own Betty, who had vanished off to London at the first whiff of war. Mrs. Metcalf's children--both Patience and her son, Anthony--were practically perfect, according to their mother. Anthony was an exceptionally bright student at university, while Patience had already produced three children, much to Mrs. Metcalf's pride and Mrs. Braithwaite's infuriation; why did Betty have to be so bookish? Patience glanced sideways toward the other ladies and added, "And with the end of your marriage, we wondered if there was a more reputable leader--" "So that's what this is about!" Mrs. Braithwaite roared. "Am I an embarrassment to you all because I'm divorced?" A sharp intake of breath echoed around the hall. Divorce was rare in these parts. It was a word that quickly conjured up ideas of carelessness, loss of control, depravity. Mrs. Metcalf raised a condescending eyebrow. "Now, let's not get beyond ourselves. It's not only to do with that. It's also because of the events on Saturday evening." Mrs. Braithwaite felt blood rush to her face. The events alluded to had occurred around dinnertime, when Mrs. Metcalf, in the midst of entertaining Lady Worthing, the ceremonial head of the WVS, had spotted Mrs. Braithwaite's podgy, pale face in her dining room terrace window. Excusing herself politely, Mrs. Metcalf opened the French doors and looked out into the cool night air. There hadn't been any sign of Mrs. Braithwaite, only a stubby shadow behind a potted ornamental bush. "I know you're there," Mrs. Metcalf called, and eventually Mrs. Braithwaite had no choice but to come out. It was a mistake to pretend she'd been looking for a lost brooch; they both knew that she was spying. She'd suspected Mrs. Metcalf's butler of stealing the pig that was missing from a local farm, and she was now waiting in full expectation of seeing a large pork joint--a victorious apple in its mouth--as the centerpiece of Mrs. Metcalf's table. The food rations had hit Mrs. Braithwaite especially hard, with her love for roast beef, pork, and puddings. When she'd heard about the missing pig, her love of mysteries had got the better of her: she'd become intent on uncovering its whereabouts. "I was helping the police with an important investigation," she explained to the committee, adopting the self-righteous air of one doing a service for the community. "You were trespassing on private property." Mrs. Metcalf sniffed victoriously. "But the pig is not a WVS matter. You can hardly expect me to stand down under such circumstances." "You will have to let the committee decide that," Mrs. Metcalf said. "Until then this meeting is adjourned." The ladies stood, discussing the matter between themselves, while Mrs. Metcalf came forward to have a quiet word with Mrs. Braithwaite. "I would also like to remind you that I know about that little matter you've kept hidden all these years." Mrs. Metcalf gave the smug smile of one who knows a secret and acknowledges its power. "I think your daughter, Betty, would be very keen to hear what you've been keeping from her." Mrs. Braithwaite expelled a great snort of breath. She loathed the fact that Mrs. Metcalf knew the one thing she dreaded leaking out. Goodness knows what effect it would have on her reputation, not to mention how it would affect Betty. Mrs. Braithwaite had tried over the years to forget about it, to sweep it under the rug. But Mrs. Metcalf always reminded her, like a ghoul from the past wagging a condemning finger, always ready to seal her doom. She noticed Mrs. Metcalf's son Anthony moving some chairs at the back of the hall, hiding a smirk. He was a slim, ferret-like young man who was a little older than Betty; they'd been great friends, getting the bus to the grammar school in town every day. Occasionally he would visit from university, and yesterday, annoyingly, had been one of those days. Had Mrs. Metcalf already told him her secret? Would he tell Betty? Furious, Mrs. Braithwaite snapped, "You can't get away with this! You've been after the top position for months, and now you're forcing me out--" "Not forcing you out, exactly" Mrs. Metcalf interrupted. "You are still welcome to help out with the other village ladies." Mrs. Braithwaite contained a howling bellow, the sound sticking in her throat like an unerupted missile. The WVS was all she'd had since Dickie left. Without her ladies to lead, she would have no one. But it would be impossible for her to attend the group as a normal volunteer, not the group leader. She had noble blood in her veins, after all, even if she lived in a small house these days. She could never lower herself. Regaining her composure, she brought herself up to attention. "If you don't want me here, I'll find other people who will appreciate my energies." With that she threw Mrs. Metcalf a final look of disdain and stormed out, her proud exit sabotaged by a pile of folding chairs lying against the door, which clattered to the floor, pulling Mrs. Braithwaite down with them. After sprawling around like an upended beetle, she scrambled to her feet, straightened herself, and marched through the door with as much dignity as she could muster. Mrs. Braithwaite remained in her sitting room for the rest of the day. As the setting sun cast a golden glow onto her chintz sofa, she realized that drastic measures were needed. With her husband gone, her village peers tossing her aside, and Mrs. Metcalf threatening to expose her secret, there was nothing else for it. She had to go and see the person who still mattered in all of this. She needed to see Betty. She needed to tell her everything. Otherwise, every time Mrs. Metcalf needed more power, she would remind Mrs. Braithwaite about what she knew; that she could drop it over the small community like her very own incendiary bomb. She couldn't let Betty hear about it from Mrs. Metcalf or Anthony. Betty, who was now almost twenty-one, had sent her five letters since she'd been in London, and as she sat in the train to London, Mrs. Braithwaite pulled them out of her sturdy brown handbag and flicked through them. The first was short, letting her mother know she was living in a boarding house in Bloomsbury. The next had a new address: Three Shilling Lane, Wandsworth, sharing a house with two girls. The other letters were also concise, telling her about lunchtime concerts with girlfriends, a play she'd seen at the theater--"a murder mystery, you'd have loved it, Mum!"--and a marvelous new film,  Gone with the Wind . She seemed to be incredibly busy, enjoying her job, and keeping herself safe from the bombs. Excerpted from The Spies of Shilling Lane: A Novel by Jennifer Ryan All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.