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When her health begins failing, the mysterious author Vida Winter decides to let Margaret Lea, a biographer, write the truth about her life, but Margaret needs to verify the facts since Vida has a history of telling outlandish tales.
BookshelfMonstrosity: These novels offer gothic suspense's classic creepy atmosphere, though with somewhat different story-lines. Fingersmith takes place in Victorian England while The Thirteenth Tale is contemporary, but both emphasize books, mysteries about birth and identity, insanity, and grand houses.… (more)
I waited a few days to write this review, because I needed to digest the story. At first, I was wavering between 4 stars and 4.5 stars, but I've settled on 4.
The writing is phenomenal. It flows so naturally and beautifully, and it makes me envious that I can write that well one day. I loved the Gothic atmosphere. I love stories with enormous manor houses with secrets and dark corners, with hints of either the supernatural or human instability behind each door, down each corridor, in each empty cavernous room. At first the vague setting bothered me, as I couldn't figure out WHEN we were. The book was published in 2006, but we never see Margaret use a computer or cell phone. She hand writes everything, doesn't record Vida Winters' conversations, and chooses to send letters to her father via snail mail. Even Vida Winters' story of Angelfield didn't mention a year or decade. I think we are meant to assume Margaret's timeline is in the late 20th century, and the story of Angelfield is in the early 20th century. Either way, once the story began, I stopped asking questions, because it didn't matter.
***SPOILERS****
I did have some issues with this story. The writing was so beautiful, it disguised the fact that I really felt no payoff by the end. There was so much build-up, but it just didn't do it for me. Part of that might have been because there was just so much happening, so many mysteries that needed to be solved, that it was hard to know which one to care about the most. One mystery was of the young man who interviewed Ms. Winter earlier in her life, demanding she Tell the Truth. That mystery wasn't solved until toward the end of the book, and by that point, I'd forgotten about the young man so this revelation didn't have as big an impact on me as it could have. Also, I felt such a buildup to Hester's introduction, but then her disappearance felt so sudden, and so quick. I felt we were introduced to her, and then she was gone. And she vanished from the narrative for a while, until Margaret thinks about her again later in the book, by which point, some of my emotional attachment to Hester had lessened.
As for the character of Margaret, I felt more frustration with her than anything. I did not understand why she resented her mother so much for keeping her dead twin a secret. Why wasn't she that mad at her father? He kept it a secret as well. What was the point of the strained relationship between Margaret and her mother? There was no parallel to Ms. Winter's story. And, not to sound completely insensitive, but would the death of her twin at birth really affect Margaret to the extent that she becomes completely reclusive and (I read her as) antisocial and withdrawn from everyone? Was she like that as a child? As a teen? I just had a hard time connecting with her. I didn't really like her.
But my biggest issue with the book was the ending, and the revelation of Ms. Winter's real identity. It subverted the entire issue of twins, which the whole book was based around. A third child? A third child who no one knew about, except the Missus and John the Dig? Out of everything in the book, that was the most far-fetched. It was disappointing. We're made to believe Ms. Winters is Adeline, and that she'd always had the ability to be normal, as a normal child had peeked through her feral nature once she'd been separated from Emmeline. That somehow, Hester's teachings had worked and brought sanity to Adeline. But no, Emmeline and Adeline remained feral, and this third child, their half-sister, was the only sane one even though she'd grown up with them.
What I found myself asking, after I'd finished the book, was How did Emmeline and her half-sister spend their adult life? How did the half-sister decide to become a writer? What was it like to go from a recluse into a world-renowned best-selling author? Why didn't they ever try to get in contact with Emmeline's son? Those questions also frustrated me.
I did like this book. However, I would say that the writing and perfectly set atmosphere masked the confusion of too many mysteries spread out too far apart from each other that lacked cathartic payoffs. I also wished the narration went more in-depth into the Angelfield characters' psyches. They're always cloaked in a layer of mystery, and I don't think that served them well here. It lessened any emotional payoffs I was waiting for.
I didn't mean to rant about this, but I think this book, for as great as it was, had potential to be even better, and just missed the mark. Would I recommend this? Absolutely. I was engrossed, sucked into the gloomy, dark atmosphere. I loved the story. Will it stay with me for years and years? No. But it was thoroughly enjoyable in the moment. ( )
Revisited November 2021 I almost never re-read #books, but this week I revisited a novel I read, loved, and enthusiastically recommended for many years. It holds up! And I had misrembered some key points, so that made the experience even better. Perfect #audio performance (Lynn Redgrave!)
January 2008 By far, one of the best books I've read in recent years. Densely written...no brain candy here! I was tempted to skip over some of the descriptive passages (she's very Bronte that way) but I fought the urge and ended up being all the more drawn into the story. I'm always in such a hurry to finish things, this book forced me to slow down and THINK and rewarded me with terrific writing and a really good story. I can't wait to seek out more of Setterfield's books. ( )
This is fantastic storytelling, Setterfield never disappoints with her craft. The Victorian gothic setting, the family secrets and oddities, the telling of the story to her biographer in snippets while we also explore present-day settings, all excellent. ( )
While the last 50 or so pages really irked me, the overall book was well written and interesting. The stories of Vida and then Margaret well intertwined beautifully. ( )
A family saga with Gothic overtones, dark secrets, lost twins, a tragic fire, a missing manuscript and over-obvious nods to Jane Eyre, Rebecca and The Woman in White, it reads like something a creative writing class might write as a committee, for the sole purpose of coming up with a novel that would suit a book group (and tellingly, there are "Reading Group Study Notes" at the back suggesting topics for discussion).
The Thirteenth Tale is not without fault. The gentle giant Aurelius is a stock character, and the ending is perhaps a little too concerned with tying up all loose ends. But it is a remarkable first novel, a book about the joy of books, a riveting multi-layered mystery that twists and turns, and weaves a quite magical spell for most of its length.
"The Thirteenth Tale" keeps us reading for its nimble cadences and atmospheric locales, as well as for its puzzles, the pieces of which, for the most part, fall into place just as we discover where the holes are. And yet, for all its successes -- and perhaps because of them -- on the whole the book feels unadventurous, content to rehash literary formulas rather than reimagine them.
A book that you wake in the middle of the night craving to get back to...Timeless, charming, a pure pleasure to read...The Thirteenth Tale is a book to savor a dozen times.
All children mythologize their birth. It is a universal trait. You want to know someone? Heart, mind and soul? Ask him to tell you about when he was born. What you get won't be the truth; it will be a story. And nothing is more telling than a story. -Vida Winter, Tales of Change and Desperation
Dedication
In memory
Ivy Dora and Fred Harold Morris
Corina Ethel and Ambrose Charles Setterfield
First words
It was November.
Quotations
Do you know the feeling when you start reading a new book before the membrane of the last one has had time to close behind you? You leave the previous book with ideas and themes-characters even-caught in the fibers of your clothes, and when you open the new book, they are still with you.
My gripe is not with lovers of the truth but with truth herself. What succor, what consolation is there in truth, compared to a story? What good is truth, at midnight, in the dark, when the wind is roaring like a bear in the chimney? What you need are the plump comforts of a story. The soothing, rocking safety of a lie. - Vida Winter
Tell me the truth.
Of course I loved books more than people. Of course I valued Jane Eye over the anonymous stranger with his hand on the lever. Of course all of Shakespeare was worth more than a human life. Of course. Unlike Miss Winter, I had been ashamed to say so.
… ten years of marriage is usually enough to cure marital affection …
So they became friends, the way old married couples often do, and enjoyed the tender loyalty that awaits the lucky on the other side of passion, without ever living the passion itself.
. . . she had that laugh, and the sound of it was so beautiful that when you heard it, it was as if your eyes saw her through your ears . . . . It was the sound of joy. He married her for it.
. . . But in her disease was a distillation: The more it reduced her, the more it exposed her essence. Every time I saw her she seemed diminished: thinner, frailer, more transparent, and the weaker she grew, the more the steel at her center was revealed.
. . . when I read about kindly grandmothers in my books, I supply them with her face.
“I know.” He didn’t know, of course. Not really. And yet that was what he said, and I was soothed to hear it. For I knew what he meant. We all have our sorrows, and although the exact delineaments, weight and dimensions of grief are different for everyone, the color of grief is common to us all. “I know,” he said, because he was human, and therefore, in a way, he did.
People disappear when they die. Their voice, their language, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living memory of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continue to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humor, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.
Last words
He opened a cool green eye, regarded me for a moment, then closed it again.
When her health begins failing, the mysterious author Vida Winter decides to let Margaret Lea, a biographer, write the truth about her life, but Margaret needs to verify the facts since Vida has a history of telling outlandish tales.
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Book description
My gripe is not with lovers of the truth but with truth itself. What succor, what consolation is there in truth, compared to a story? What good is truth, at midnight, in the dark, when the wind is roaring like a bear in the chimney? What you need are the plump comforts of a story. The soothing, rocking safety of a lie.
All children mythologize their birth...
So begins the prologue of reclusive author Vida Winter's collection of stories, which are as famous for the mystery of the missing thirteenth tale as they are for the delight and enchantment of the twelve that do exist.
The enigmatic Winter has spent six decades creating various outlandish life histories for herself — all of them inventions that have brought her fame and fortune but have kept her violent and tragic past a secret. Now old and ailing, she at last wants to tell the truth about her extraordinary life. She summons biographer Margaret Lea, a young woman for whom the secret of her own birth, hidden by those who loved her most, remains an ever-present pain. Struck by a curious parallel between Miss Winter's story and her own, Margaret takes on the commission.
As Vida disinters the life she meant to bury for good, Margaret is mesmerized. It is a tale of gothic strangeness featuring the Angelfield family, including the beautiful and willful Isabelle, the feral twins Adeline and Emmeline, a ghost, a governess, a topiary garden and a devastating fire.
Margaret succumbs to the power of Vida's storytelling but remains suspicious of the author's sincerity. She demands the truth from Vida, and together they confront the ghosts that have haunted them while becoming, finally, transformed by the truth themselves.
The Thirteenth Tale is a love letter to reading, a book for the feral reader in all of us, a return to that rich vein of storytelling that our parents loved and that we loved as children. Diane Setterfield will keep you guessing, make you wonder, move you to tears and laughter and, in the end, deposit you breathless yet satisfied back upon the shore of your everyday life.
Haiku summary
The bond between twins Long-held family secrets A ruined old house (passion4reading)
The writing is phenomenal. It flows so naturally and beautifully, and it makes me envious that I can write that well one day. I loved the Gothic atmosphere. I love stories with enormous manor houses with secrets and dark corners, with hints of either the supernatural or human instability behind each door, down each corridor, in each empty cavernous room. At first the vague setting bothered me, as I couldn't figure out WHEN we were. The book was published in 2006, but we never see Margaret use a computer or cell phone. She hand writes everything, doesn't record Vida Winters' conversations, and chooses to send letters to her father via snail mail. Even Vida Winters' story of Angelfield didn't mention a year or decade. I think we are meant to assume Margaret's timeline is in the late 20th century, and the story of Angelfield is in the early 20th century. Either way, once the story began, I stopped asking questions, because it didn't matter.
***SPOILERS****
I did have some issues with this story. The writing was so beautiful, it disguised the fact that I really felt no payoff by the end. There was so much build-up, but it just didn't do it for me. Part of that might have been because there was just so much happening, so many mysteries that needed to be solved, that it was hard to know which one to care about the most. One mystery was of the young man who interviewed Ms. Winter earlier in her life, demanding she Tell the Truth. That mystery wasn't solved until toward the end of the book, and by that point, I'd forgotten about the young man so this revelation didn't have as big an impact on me as it could have. Also, I felt such a buildup to Hester's introduction, but then her disappearance felt so sudden, and so quick. I felt we were introduced to her, and then she was gone. And she vanished from the narrative for a while, until Margaret thinks about her again later in the book, by which point, some of my emotional attachment to Hester had lessened.
As for the character of Margaret, I felt more frustration with her than anything. I did not understand why she resented her mother so much for keeping her dead twin a secret. Why wasn't she that mad at her father? He kept it a secret as well. What was the point of the strained relationship between Margaret and her mother? There was no parallel to Ms. Winter's story. And, not to sound completely insensitive, but would the death of her twin at birth really affect Margaret to the extent that she becomes completely reclusive and (I read her as) antisocial and withdrawn from everyone? Was she like that as a child? As a teen? I just had a hard time connecting with her. I didn't really like her.
But my biggest issue with the book was the ending, and the revelation of Ms. Winter's real identity. It subverted the entire issue of twins, which the whole book was based around. A third child? A third child who no one knew about, except the Missus and John the Dig? Out of everything in the book, that was the most far-fetched. It was disappointing. We're made to believe Ms. Winters is Adeline, and that she'd always had the ability to be normal, as a normal child had peeked through her feral nature once she'd been separated from Emmeline. That somehow, Hester's teachings had worked and brought sanity to Adeline. But no, Emmeline and Adeline remained feral, and this third child, their half-sister, was the only sane one even though she'd grown up with them.
What I found myself asking, after I'd finished the book, was How did Emmeline and her half-sister spend their adult life? How did the half-sister decide to become a writer? What was it like to go from a recluse into a world-renowned best-selling author? Why didn't they ever try to get in contact with Emmeline's son? Those questions also frustrated me.
I did like this book. However, I would say that the writing and perfectly set atmosphere masked the confusion of too many mysteries spread out too far apart from each other that lacked cathartic payoffs. I also wished the narration went more in-depth into the Angelfield characters' psyches. They're always cloaked in a layer of mystery, and I don't think that served them well here. It lessened any emotional payoffs I was waiting for.
I didn't mean to rant about this, but I think this book, for as great as it was, had potential to be even better, and just missed the mark. Would I recommend this? Absolutely. I was engrossed, sucked into the gloomy, dark atmosphere. I loved the story. Will it stay with me for years and years? No. But it was thoroughly enjoyable in the moment. ( )