Engaging but disappointingly straightforward historical fiction novel of one child torn between two women.
Stacey Halls second historical fiction novel is set against the backdrop of London in the Georgian era and is essentially a pretty straightforward story of two women in a tug of war over one illegitimate child left at the Foundling Hospital. Narrated in the first-person by the two women at the centre of the storm, a world apart in terms of wealth, class and respectability, The Foundling is an easily readable novel that highlights the inequality that was rife in the period. Opening in 1747, shrimp seller Bess Bright has not even been a mother for a full day before she takes her newborn, Clara, to the Foundling Hospital in London, aware that she can offer the child no future beyond two squalid rooms and a life working on Billingsgate market. Fully intending to reclaim her child one day in the years ahead, Bess leaves a whalebone token given to her by the babies father, a man she met just twice and has refused to name to her family. Fast-forward to six years later and armed with all her worldly savings Bess goes to claims the child she left behind only to be dealt the staggering blow that she has already been taken. Indeed someone presenting as the child's mother and claiming to be Bess Bright removed her daughter just the very next day after she was left at the hospital. Chancing upon a sighting of a child she has reason to believe is her own, Bess determines to bring her daughter home by hook or by crook.
The filth and danger of Ludgate Hill sits in stark contrast to well-heeled Bloomsbury across town and uptight widow, Alexandra Callard, whose fear of losing loved ones keeps her and her six-year-old child, Charlotte, confined inside a home that is to all intents a prison. Self-contained and still dealing with an upbringing that has left her emotionally stunted, Alexandra is persuaded by her husband’s great friend, a doctor at the Foundling Hospital, to hire a nursemaid. No prizes for guessing who gets the job and the explosive collision that ensues with both women having their own claim on Charlotte, with the man that brought them together, kind-hearted and honourable Doctor Elliot Mead, caught in the crossfire.
I was dismayed that there wasn’t really much of a mystery contained within the pages of The Foundling and Bess finding her daughter and obtaining a position as nursemaid entailed no great search or effort at all. In this sense the story was totally lacking in intrigue and from that point onwards the outcome was eminently predictable. Convenient coincides abound, from Bess’s sighting of Alexandra Callard and Charlotte on her only visit to the Foundling Chapel during a Sunday service, right through to the fortuitous circumstances that meant Charlotte was brought home to Alexandra seven months after she was widowed.
Characterisation is patchy and I struggled to connect with Bess beyond her innate desire to raise her own child, finishing the novel feeling that I knew little more about her as an individual than on outset. Alexandra is well-drawn and her traumatic background and mental health issues make her a compelling character to explore but again I struggled to get a sense of her motivation and desire for keeping a child that she expressed little warmth or affection towards. Standoffish and capricious throughout, I ended the novel without having any clear sense of what she actually felt towards Charlotte and why she felt she had a claim on her.
There is little meaningful examination of what the future holds for a child raised in the life that Bess can offer and rather short-sightedly her character expresses no qualms about taking a child from a charmed life of privilege and comfort to the hard labour and iniquities of life in the working classes. Doctor Mead is the third main player in the story and is essentially an unofficial arbiter acting as an impartial sounding board, rather reminiscent of King Solomon in the bible! The supporting cast are colourful but very stereotypical from Alexandra’s flamboyant and decadent sister, Ambrosia, to Bess’s ne’er-do-well sot of a brother, Ned, and impish link-boy, Lyle.
The denouement is abrupt and not entirely realistic to my mind. I can understand Stacey
Halls preference for a feel good and simplistic tying up of a story but given that the novel was intended as an exploration of the meaning of motherhood it feels like a missed opportunity. The plot is a familiar one that I feel has been done to death over the years, albeit in different eras with every story posing the exact same question of what it means to be a mother. Apart from the Georgian setting and the inspiration of the Foundling Hospital for abandoned babies there is little original about the book and aside from a few choice bits of slang the story fails to deliver on period atmosphere.
Slight and unsubstantial, but easily readable and moderately entertaining.
With thanks to Readers First who provided me with a free copy of this novel in exchange for my honest and unbiased opinion.
The filth and danger of Ludgate Hill sits in stark contrast to well-heeled Bloomsbury across town and uptight widow, Alexandra Callard, whose fear of losing loved ones keeps her and her six-year-old child, Charlotte, confined inside a home that is to all intents a prison. Self-contained and still dealing with an upbringing that has left her emotionally stunted, Alexandra is persuaded by her husband’s great friend, a doctor at the Foundling Hospital, to hire a nursemaid. No prizes for guessing who gets the job and the explosive collision that ensues with both women having their own claim on Charlotte, with the man that brought them together, kind-hearted and honourable Doctor Elliot Mead, caught in the crossfire.
I was dismayed that there wasn’t really much of a mystery contained within the pages of The Foundling and Bess finding her daughter and obtaining a position as nursemaid entailed no great search or effort at all. In this sense the story was totally lacking in intrigue and from that point onwards the outcome was eminently predictable. Convenient coincides abound, from Bess’s sighting of Alexandra Callard and Charlotte on her only visit to the Foundling Chapel during a Sunday service, right through to the fortuitous circumstances that meant Charlotte was brought home to Alexandra seven months after she was widowed.
Characterisation is patchy and I struggled to connect with Bess beyond her innate desire to raise her own child, finishing the novel feeling that I knew little more about her as an individual than on outset. Alexandra is well-drawn and her traumatic background and mental health issues make her a compelling character to explore but again I struggled to get a sense of her motivation and desire for keeping a child that she expressed little warmth or affection towards. Standoffish and capricious throughout, I ended the novel without having any clear sense of what she actually felt towards Charlotte and why she felt she had a claim on her.
There is little meaningful examination of what the future holds for a child raised in the life that Bess can offer and rather short-sightedly her character expresses no qualms about taking a child from a charmed life of privilege and comfort to the hard labour and iniquities of life in the working classes. Doctor Mead is the third main player in the story and is essentially an unofficial arbiter acting as an impartial sounding board, rather reminiscent of King Solomon in the bible! The supporting cast are colourful but very stereotypical from Alexandra’s flamboyant and decadent sister, Ambrosia, to Bess’s ne’er-do-well sot of a brother, Ned, and impish link-boy, Lyle.
The denouement is abrupt and not entirely realistic to my mind. I can understand Stacey
Halls preference for a feel good and simplistic tying up of a story but given that the novel was intended as an exploration of the meaning of motherhood it feels like a missed opportunity. The plot is a familiar one that I feel has been done to death over the years, albeit in different eras with every story posing the exact same question of what it means to be a mother. Apart from the Georgian setting and the inspiration of the Foundling Hospital for abandoned babies there is little original about the book and aside from a few choice bits of slang the story fails to deliver on period atmosphere.
Slight and unsubstantial, but easily readable and moderately entertaining.
With thanks to Readers First who provided me with a free copy of this novel in exchange for my honest and unbiased opinion.