English Correspondence

This charming novel is all about identity: both national identity and the feeling of losing one's own identity within a claustrophobic marriage. Throughout her life, Sylvie - half-English, half-French - has struggled to work out which country she belongs to. Married to Paul, a Frenchman, and running a small hotel in the Meuse region, where he, the chef, is the star attraction, she feels more and more an outsider - especially when she suspects Paul of having an affair with one of their employees. The death of her father in England crystallises her feelings, and all her anguish becomes concentrated on the disappearance of the letter she knows he must have written to her shortly before his death. Face-to-face, Sylvie and her father had little to say to one another, but their prolific correspondence created a unique bond between them. The appearance of an Englishman at the hotel and Sylvie's visit to London to sort out her father's effects trigger a series of events that signify emotional meltdown for Sylvie, but she must struggle to maintain a calm demeanour in the middle of competing demands from her husband, son, mother-in-law and a selection of guests and social situations reminiscent of a French edition of Fawlty Towers. Davey has a gift for minute social observations and Sylvie, despite her despair, is an engaging anti-heroine with a personality plausibly split between English phlegm and French glamour. Given the depth of characterization, the incisive portrayal of the concerns of the French provincial bourgeoisie and the authenticity of Sylvie's descent from numbness to irrationality, it seems incredible that this is Janet Davey's first novel. The jacket blurb, likening this book to Anita Brookner's Hotel du Lac, might be a trifle overstretching it, but Davey is clearly a writer to watch - and do not be too surprised to see her name on the awards lists of the future. (Kirkus UK)