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#1 International bestselling novel set in 1920s Ceylon, about a young Englishwoman who marries a charming tea plantation owner and widower, only to discover he's keeping terrible secrets about his past, including what happened to his first wife, that lead to devastating consequences
|Product dimensions:||5.20(w) x 7.90(h) x 1.10(d)|
About the Author
From the Hardcover edition.
Read an Excerpt
The New Life
Twelve Years Later: Ceylon, 1925
With her straw sun hat in one hand, gwen leaned against the salty railings and glanced down again. She’d been watching the shifting color of the sea for an hour, tracing the shreds of paper, the curls of orange peel, and the leaves drifting by. Now that the water had changed from deepest turquoise to dingy gray, she knew it couldn’t be long. She leaned a little further over the rail to watch a piece of silver fabric float out of sight.
When the ship’s horn sounded—loud, prolonged, and very close—she jumped, lifting her hand from the rail in surprise. The little satin purse, a farewell present from her mother, with its delicate beaded drawstring, slid over her hand. She gasped and reached out, but saw it was too late as the purse dropped into the ocean, swirled in the dirty water, and then sank. And with it her money, and Laurence’s letter with his instructions folded neatly inside.
She looked about her and felt another stirring of the unease she hadn’t been able to shake off since leaving England. You can’t get much further from Gloucestershire than Ceylon, her father had said. As his voice echoed in her head, she was startled when she heard another voice, distinctly male but with an unusually honeyed tone.
“New to the East?”
Accustomed to the fact that her violet eyes and pale complexion always attracted attention, she turned to look and was forced to squint into bright sunlight.
“I . . . Yes. I’m joining my husband. We’re only recently married.” She took a breath, just stopping herself from blurting out the whole story.
A broad-shouldered man of medium height, with a strong nose and glittering caramel eyes, gazed back at her. His black brows, curling hair, and dark polished skin stopped her in her tracks. She stared, feeling a little unnerved, until he smiled in an open sort of way.
“You’re lucky. By May the sea would normally be a great deal wilder. A tea planter, I’m guessing,” he said. “Your husband.”
“How did you know?”
He spread his hands. “There is a type.”
She glanced down at her beige-colored dress: drop-waisted, but with a high collar and long sleeves. She didn’t want to be a “type,” but realized that if it weren’t for the chiffon scarf knotted at her neck, she might appear drab.
“I saw what happened. I’m sorry about your purse.”
“It was stupid of me,” she said, and hoped she wasn’t blushing.
Had she been a little more like her cousin, Fran, she might have engaged him in conversation, but instead, imagining the short exchange to be over, she turned back to watch as the ship slipped closer to Colombo.
Above the shimmering city, a cobalt sky stretched into distant purple hills; trees gave shade and the air was filled with the cries of gulls as they swooped over the small boats massing on the water. The thrill of doing something so different bubbled through her. She had missed Laurence and, for a moment, allowed herself to dream of him. Dreaming was effortless, but the reality was so exciting it set butterflies alight in her stomach. She took a deep breath of what she’d expected would be salty air and marveled at the scent of something stronger than salt.
“What is that?” she said as she turned to look at the man, who, she rightly sensed, had not shifted from the spot.
He paused and sniffed deeply. “Cinnamon and probably sandalwood.”
“There’s something sweet.”
“Jasmine flowers. There are many flowers in Ceylon.”
“How lovely,” she said. But even then, she knew it was more than that. Beneath the seductive scent there was an undercurrent of something sour.
“Bad drains too, I’m afraid.”
She nodded. Perhaps that was it.
“I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Savi Ravasinghe.”
“Oh.” She paused. “You’re . . . I mean, I haven’t seen you at dinner.”
He pulled a face. “Not a first-class passenger is what you mean, I think. I’m Sinhalese.”
She hadn’t noticed until now that the man stood on the other side of the rope that separated the classes. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you,” she said, pulling off one of her white gloves. “I’m Gwendolyn Hooper.”
“Then you must be Laurence Hooper’s new wife.”
She fingered the large Ceylon sapphire of her ring and nodded in surprise. “You know my husband?”
He inclined his head. “I have met your husband, yes, but now I’m afraid I must take my leave.”
She held out her hand, pleased to have met him.
“I hope you’ll be very happy in Ceylon, Mrs. Hooper.”
When he ignored her hand, she let it fall. He pressed his palms together in front of his chest, fingers pointing upward, and bowed very slightly.
“May your dreams be fulfilled . . .” With closed eyes, he paused for a moment, then walked off.
Gwen felt a little disconcerted by his words and the odd departing gesture, but with more pressing matters on her mind, she shrugged. She really must try to remember Laurence’s lost instructions.
Luckily, first class disembarked first, and that meant her. She thought of the man again and couldn’t help but feel fascinated. She’d never met anyone so exotic and it would have been much more fun if he’d stayed to keep her company—though, of course, he could not.
Nothing had prepared her for the shock of Ceylon’s scorching heat, nor its clashing colors, nor the contrast between the bright white light and the depth of the shade. Noise bombarded her: bells, horns, people, and buzzing insects surrounding her, swirling and eddying, until she felt as if she were being tipped about, like one of the pieces of flotsam she’d been watching earlier. When the background noise was eclipsed by loud trumpeting, she spun round to stare at the timber wharf, mesmerized by the sight of an elephant raising its trunk in the air and bellowing.
When watching an elephant had become quite normal, she braved the Port Authority building, made arrangements for her trunk, then sat on a wooden bench in the hot steamy air with nothing but her hat to shade her, and with which, from time to time, she swatted the clusters of flies that crawled along her hairline. Laurence had promised to be at the dockside, but so far there was no sign of him. She tried to recall what he’d said to do in the event of an emergency, and spotted Mr. Ravasinghe again, making his way out of the second-class hatch in the side of the ship. By avoiding looking at the man, she hoped to hide her flush of embarrassment at her predicament, and turned the other way to watch the haphazard loading of tea chests onto a barge at the other end of the docks.
The smell of drains had long since overpowered the spicy fragrance of cinnamon and now mingled with other rank odors: grease, bullock dung, rotting fish. And as the dockside filled with more disgruntled passengers being besieged by traders and hawkers peddling gemstones and silk, she felt sick with nerves. What would she do if Laurence didn’t come? He had promised. She was only nineteen, and he knew she’d never been further from Owl Tree Manor than a trip or two to London with Fran. Her spirits sank. It was too bad her cousin hadn’t been able to travel out with her, but straight after the wedding Fran had been called away by her solicitor, and though Gwen would have entrusted Laurence with her life, all things considered, she couldn’t help feeling a bit upset.
A swarm of seminaked brown-skinned children flitted among the crowd, offering bundles of cinnamon sticks, and with enormous, imploring eyes, begged for rupees. A child who couldn’t have been more than five pulled out a bundle for Gwen. She held it to her nose and sniffed. The child spoke, but it was gobbledegook to Gwen, and sadly she had no rupees to give the urchin, nor any English money either, now.
She stood and walked about. There was a brief gust of wind, and from somewhere in the distance came a troubling sound—boom, boom, boom. Drums, she thought. Loud, but not quite loud enough to identify a regular beat. She didn’t wander far from the small case she’d left by the bench, and when she heard Mr. Ravasinghe call out, she felt her forehead bead with perspiration.
“Mrs. Hooper. You cannot leave your case unguarded.”
She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “I was keeping my eye on it.”
“People are poor and opportunistic. Come, I’ll carry your case and find you somewhere cooler to wait.”
“You’re very kind.”
“Not at all.” He held her by the elbow with just his fingertips and forged a path through the Port Authority building. “This is Church Street. Now look over there—just at the edge of Gordon Gardens is the Suriya, or tulip tree as it is known.”
She glanced at the tree. Its fat trunk folded deeply like a woman’s skirt, and a canopy studded with bright orange bell-shaped flowers offered an oddly flaming kind of shade.
“It will provide a degree of cool, though with the afternoon heat coming on so strong, and the monsoon not yet arrived, you will find little relief.”
“Really,” she said. “There’s no need for you to stay with me.”
He smiled and his eyes narrowed. “I cannot leave you here alone, a penniless stranger in our city.”
Glad of his company, she smiled back.
They walked across to the spot he’d indicated, and she spent another hour leaning against the tree, perspiring and dripping beneath her clothes, and wondering what she’d let herself in for by agreeing to live in Ceylon. The noise had amplified, and though he stood close, hemmed in by the crowds, he still had to shout to be heard.
“If your husband has not arrived by three, I hope you won’t mind my suggesting you retire to the Galle Face Hotel to wait. It is airy, there are fans and soft drinks, and you will be infinitely cooler.”
She hesitated, reluctant to leave the spot. “But how will Laurence know I’m there?”
“He’ll know. Anyone British of any standing goes to the Galle Face.”
She glanced at the imposing façade of the Grand Oriental. “Not there?”
“Definitely not there. Trust me.”
In the fierce brightness of the afternoon, the wind blew a cloud of grit into her face, sending tears streaming down her cheeks. She blinked rapidly, then rubbed her eyes, hoping she really could trust him. Perhaps he was right. A person could die in this heat.
A short distance from where she stood, a tight bundle had formed beneath rows and rows of fluttering white ribbons strung across the street, and a man in brown robes, making a repetitive high-pitched sound, stood in the center of a group of colorful women. Mr. Ravasinghe saw Gwen watching.
“The monk is pirith chanting,” he said. “It is often required at the deathbed to ensure a good passing. Here I think it is because great evil may have transpired at that spot, or at the very least a death. The monk is attempting to purify the place of any remaining malignancy by calling for the blessings of the gods. We believe in ghosts in Ceylon.”
“You are all Buddhists?”
“I myself am, but there are Hindus and Muslims too.”
He inclined his head.
When by three there was still no sign of Laurence, the man held out a hand and took a step away. “Well?”
She nodded, and he called out to one of the rickshaw men, who wore very little more than a turban and a greasy-looking loincloth.
She shuddered at how thin the man’s brown naked back was. “I’m surely not going in that?”
“Would you prefer a bullock cart?”
She felt herself redden as she glanced at the heap of oval orange fruits piled up in a cart that had huge wooden wheels and a matted canopy.
“I do beg your pardon, Mrs. Hooper. I shouldn’t tease. Your husband uses carts to transport the tea chests. We would actually ride in a small buggy. Just the one bullock and with a shady palm-leaf hood.”
She pointed at the orange fruits. “What are those?”
“King coconut. Only for the juice. Are you thirsty?”
Even though she was, she shook her head. On the wall just behind Mr. Ravasinghe, a large poster showed a dark-skinned woman balancing a wicker basket on her head and wearing a yellow and red sari. She had bare feet and gold bangles on her ankles and she wore a yellow headscarf. mazzawattee tea, the poster proclaimed. Gwen’s hands grew clammy and a flood of sickening panic swept through her. She was very far from home.
“As you can see,” Mr. Ravasinghe was saying, “cars are few and far between, and a rickshaw is certainly faster. If you are unhappy, we can wait, and I’ll try to obtain a horse and carriage. Or, if it helps, I can accompany you in the rickshaw.”
At that moment, a large black car came hooting its way through the crowd of pedestrians, bicyclists, carts, and carriages, only narrowly missing numerous sleeping dogs. Laurence, she thought with a surge of relief, but when she looked in through the window of the passing vehicle, she saw it contained only two large middle-aged European women. One turned to look at Gwen, her face a picture of disapproval.
Right, Gwen thought, galvanized into action, a rickshaw it is.
A cluster of thin palms stood waving in the breeze outside the Galle Face Hotel, and the building itself sided the ocean in a very British way. When Mr. Ravasinghe had given her the oriental manner of salutation and a very warm smile, she was sorry to see him go but walked past the two curved staircases and settled herself to wait in the relative cool of the Palm Lounge. She instantly felt at home and closed her eyes, pleased to have a small respite from the almost total invasion of her senses. Her rest didn’t last long. If Laurence were to arrive now, she was only too aware of the sorry state she was in, and that was not the impression she wanted to create. She sipped her cup of Ceylon tea, and then looked across the tables and chairs dotted about the polished teak floor. In one corner a discreet sign pinpointed the location of the ladies’ powder room.
In the sweet-smelling, multiple-mirrored room, she splashed the repeated image of her face and applied a dab of Après L’Ondée, which luckily had been safely stowed in her small case and not in her drowned purse. She felt sticky, with sweat running down under her arms, but pinned up her hair again so that it coiled neatly at the nape of her neck. Her hair was her crowning glory, Laurence said. It was dark, long, and ringleted when unpinned. When she’d mentioned she was considering having it cut short like Fran’s, flapper style, he’d looked horrified and tugged loose a curl at the back of her neck, then leaned down and rubbed his chin on top of her head.
Reading Group Guide
1. Who did you think the woman in the prologue was and where did you think she was going? Did your perception of this character change as you read the novel?
2. Discuss Gwen leaving her life behind to live in a tea plantation. Could you see yourself making this drastic lifestyle change?
3. Upon Gwen’s arrival in Ceylon, Lawrence is withdrawn and distant. Why did you think this was? Were you surprised that he was so different than how Gwen described him?
4. Dinah Jefferies creates a wonderful sense of time and place in the novel. Did you find it easy to picture Ceylon and the tea plantation?
5. Gwen and McGregor clash on how they think the plantation should be managed. Did you ever sympathize with McGregor’s viewpoints? Did you ever think Gwen was overstepping?
6. What did you make of Gwen’s attempt to recreate her childhood hobby of cheese making on the tea plantation?
7. What role do you think Verity serves in the novel? Discuss why you think she was so bitter and manipulative.
8. The night in the hotel after the party becomes a turning point in the novel. As the reader, we only get Gwen’s interpretation of the truth. What did you think happened? Did you ever doubt Gwen’s assumption as you continued reading?
9. Discuss the decision that Gwen makes immediately after childbirth. What do you think you would have done in her shoes?
10. Discuss the issues of race and colonialism in the novel. Do you think racism is a cultural stigma that is learned? The two children in the book get along well and don’t care about the color of their skin, do you think this is an argument that racism is not inherited?
11. Discuss the secrets that the characters kept from one another and how they impacted their lives. How could things have been different if the characters told each other the truth? Do you think there are times when hiding a secret is better than telling the truth? Is this decision easier or harder when it’s someone you love?
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
If you want a good read that hooks you from the first page, this book is for you. Set in Ceylon (Sri Lanka today) on a lush British tea plantation during the days of British rule, a story of secrets unfolds as a young, new wife, Gwen, struggles to find her place in a world of castes and unpleasant prejudices. The plantation itself is a major character in the book and the author's beautiful descriptions of it are as important as the plot line. You are enchanted by it but the need to know the family secrets keeps you intrigued to the point you can't put the book down. Well worth read
Enjoyed every page ...
Journey to 1920’s Ceylon in this deeply engrossing family drama. Gwendolyn, a young Englishwoman, marries Laurence, the owner of a tea plantation in Ceylon, and travels there to begin their life together. She knows his first wife has died but he is reluctant to share details with her. Gwen loves the home that she now finds herself in charge of and gradually takes over the running of the household. Before long she finds herself pregnant and the two eagerly anticipate the arrival of the child. But there are secrets in this household and forces determined to undermine them. This drama covers the first 10 years of Gwen and Laurence’s marriage and follows them through the challenges of life as plantation owners. The story touches on issues of discrimination and the changes taking place in the culture at the time. I thought the author did a great job of navigating these issues in a way that doesn’t distract from the story but is an integral part of it. Gwendolyn is a lovely young lady who is dropped into a completely different culture and the job of running a large household at the tender age of 19. She must carefully navigate some very troubled waters but comes out stronger every time. Laurence is a good man but he has his flaws and all of this comes out in the book. I felt like I really got to know these two in an intimate way throughout the story. Finally, the author gives wonderful descriptions of the foliage and landscape of Ceylon. This is a sweeping story that takes the reader from England to Ceylon to New York and back again. Really well done!
Vivid, Poignant, Moving Before I received this book, I was thinking it was going to be a drag to read and actually finish. As I began the book, it seemed like the pages came to life. Jefferies uses language that puts you in Ceylon, see the colors, feel the heat of the sun, and hear the jungle around you. This is one of the books I've read that I was really immersed sensorily. Based on the synopsis, I believed I would have trouble relating to Gwen because she sounded like the demure and submissive type, but boy was I wrong! All the characters are brought to life with real human characteristics and aspects that you would be able to relate to. The characters make choices that lead their lives in various directions that include greatness and heart break. I had trouble putting the book down because of its many twists and turns, mystery, political unrest, history, romance, etc. As I finished the book, I was moved. Frankly, I finished the book in the hot tub crying tears of many emotions (lol!). Great read and very much recommend!
Whenever I see the label "International Bestseller" on the cover of a book, I always know I can buy it and never have any regrests! This fact alone, along with the stunning cover of this novel, made it a must read for me. And I was not disappointed. I adore family dramas, and this is one that is set in Ceylon in the early 1900's. Beautiful descriptions of scenery, customs, and characters, made the story spring into authentic life. First there is Gwen who travels from England to Ceylon to join her new husband on his plantation. Secondly, there is Verity, her needy sister-in-law who causes problems for Gwen and comes between her and her husband. Thirdly, there is her husband Laurence, whose love for her slowly cools for no obvious reason. And lastly, there is the raw political climate of Ceylon with all its cultural expectations and problems. To say Gwen experiences culture shock, is a gross understatement. With plenty of underlying conflicts, some blatant, some subversive, this book became a real page turner for me. There was always something going on, something that engaged me, and something that drew upon my emotions. And slowly secrets are revealed as people put their own machinations into play. Yup, this was entertaining at all levels. Definitely a fun, engaging book. It's no wonder it is an International Best Seller. Well worth it for entertainment value!
This book is more for readers of historical fiction than mystery. To parts of the book, I would give a five star rating parts of the book I would give a three start rating (hence the four star review). The positives of the book is that it gives a dynamic and beautiful picture of British Ceylon. I was truly intrigued about how the British tried to make a little Britain in a remote part of the world. The book was enjoyable to read and the ending gave me a jolt. Furthermore, the book is not an homage to the British Empire; the reader becomes aware of problems. One negative of the book is that we don't see the heroine's courtship with her husband. Problems in her marriage start right away. It would have been nice to see what their initial romance was like. This may be a cultural issue since I am twenty-first century American woman and the book is about an early twentieth century English girl. Another problem I had with the book is that I found iit hard to believe that nineteen year old girl would be happy living on a remote island away from her family and friends. She seems spend a lot of time on her own and I see most nineteen year olds as wanting to have a more lively environment. This may be a cultural issue since I am twenty-first century American woman and the book is about an early twentieth century English girl; it could be that the wives of the British Empire were tough. Another aspect of the book that I found unsettling was it superficial resemblance to Daphne du Maurier's book Rebecca. In both books, young women marry older men after a short courtship. In both books the husband had a first wife who dies in somewhat mysterious circumstances. In both books there is a housekeeper who knew both the first and second wife. When I was reading the book I kept on thinking about the book Rebecca. Obviously, if you have not read the book Rebecca this will not be a problem for you. However, if you have read Rebecca this book is different and try not to think about the book Rebecca; this novel. However, despite the above reservations, I still found it an entertaining page- turner of a book where I could escape from my ordinary everyday life into Ceylon. I was given a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.
Set in Ceylon on a tea plantation in the 1920-30s, The Tea Planter’s Wife, by Dinah Jeffries offers not only a story of love and secrets but an interwoven history of the struggles between the Sinhalese (majority) and Tamil (minority) peoples, which later grew into a civil war lasting many years. Jeffries, in my opinion, captures the lush environment, the colorful garments of the locals, the resentments between family members (her own and the plantation staff and field workers), as well as the degree of tension felt on many levels. Not unlike the tensions of the civil rights movement in our own country, the young wife is caught off guard many times in her hope of helping the plantation workers with health issues, food scarcity, and more. Most fascinating, again in my opinion, was the lesson brought to light by Jeffries in the dangers and hurts created by well-kept secrets, especially among family. I could tell you a great deal about the book and what I’m referring to here, but to do so would show too much. The characters were all likable, most of the time, and even those who behaved badly were likable to the extent you often wanted the best for them. Once I turned the first page, my interest was captured and I couldn’t put The Tea Planter’s Wife aside until it was finished. I highly recommend to readers who enjoy historical fiction set in this time period and in an area of our world not often written about. Clearly, this author researched well and wrote about Ceylon, now Sri Lanka, in a way that was intriguing and made me want to read more. FTC Disclosure: I received a copy of this book from Penguin via NetGalley in exchange for a fair and honest review. Opinions expressed are mine.
Gwen has traveled to Ceylon to live with her widowed husband Lawrence Hooper. Ceylon is lush and mysterious, filled with spices and an exotic atmosphere unlike any she has ever known in her young life. While Gwen strives to adapt to life on their tea plantation, she is also trying to adapt to being a wife and managing a large household. This is not as easy as she had once thought, especially when she must also cope with a sister-in-law who is uncommonly affectionate with her brother, Lawrence's ex-lover who is now a business partner, an abrupt plantation manager, and a native population on the brink of civil war. Just when Gwen begins to settle in and enjoy her beloved future in Ceylon a terrible event occurs that places all that she loves and holds dear on the brink of disaster. The Tea Planter's Wife was a wonderful novel! I loved the story while also learning about the unrest that occurred in Ceylon during the first part of the twentieth century. Dinah Jefferies has written a wonderful novel and I look forward to reading more from her in the future. Thank you to LibraryThing for choosing me as an Early Reviewer of this novel!
The Tea Planters Wife is a historical fiction novel with a Gothic twist by author Dinah Jefferies. The story picks up with youthful and naïve Gwen Hooper, a newlywed traveling for the first time to her new home in Ceylon (Sri Lanka) where she will live with her new husband Laurence. Laurence is a widower with a shadowed past and the secrets he keeps from his previous marriage come back to haunt both him and Gwen who is soon faced with her own secrets. The story revolves around these ever growing secrets and the tension mounts as the price of keeping them increases. As to the historical aspect, The Tea Planter’s Wife is obviously well researched and feels so authentic that I first thought this was a re-release of a novel written by an author contemporaneous with the book’s setting. The only giveaway was the occurrence of a few sex scenes. (Though I’m no expert on 1920’s literature and the descriptions were vague and tastefully done, their presence tipped me off this was probably a modern writer). The scene is beautifully set with lush descriptive detail of Ceylon and wonderful character detail. Gwen is predictably quite naïve and helpless as a lady of her societal class and age would have been. The supporting characters often pose difficulties as Gwen has to find her own footing with those who are in her class and those who are not. Jefferies has stayed true to the mindsets of the time period as to race which can rankle the modern reader as it is hard to understand this way of thinking today. It is a tough line to straddle in both staying true to opinions of the time, wrong though they were, and yet trying to keep readers of today from losing their patience with the racial injustices. She does well in this though Gwen’s decision in one area was a hard one for me to accept. The Gothic element is present in the novel both through the unexplained death of Laurence’s ex-wife that haunts the story as well as other natural elements. Throughout the novel there is a great deal of atmospheric echoing of moods and symbolism, especially as represented by the focal point on the tea plantation, the lake. At times it seems threatening and forbidding, at others inviting and light, a truly Gothic personification of nature. Though compared to Daphne Du Maurier, I would say the story’s resemblance is closer to Emily Bronte in that there is a much stronger undercurrent of sorrow and melancholy to this story. At times, with the outcome so uncertain, it was hard to read, but it is the kind of novel one always comes back to. A melancholy story, but a good one. Disclaimer: I received a free ARC of this story from the publisher on Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
Gwen gets married to a wealthy tea grower and moves to Ceylon to live on his massive plantation, Her husband acts distant and has secrets about his past that he is unwilling to share. I really enjoyed this story. It kept me captivated throughout
When 19 year-old, Gwen Hooper leaves the comfort of her family and home in England, to take a boat to Ceylon to move in with the husband she recently married, she truly believes she met the man of her dreams. In England; where they met and married, he certainly was just that. Would arriving in his homeland of Ceylon have him change his ways? Is he still the same man that will only look at her through eyes of love? He is a 37 year-old Widow and Tea Plantation owner, Laurence Hooper. It is all quite exciting when he first picks her up at a hotel on the docks, and they see each other for the first time. This story is about their relationship with each other, their family, their friends and their employees….and, of course, their business in general. It becomes a story of them trying to find themselves and each other, after a huge secret hovers over their marriage…threatening to be the end of them. I took my first break, and realized I had already read 150 pages. Obviously, I was drawn in! It was no surprise that Dinah Jefferies brought the full landscape of Ceylon in the 1920’s to life on paper. She has a delicious gift of painting the landscape with her words…you can see, smell and feel all that surrounds the backdrop of this “you will not put this down” Historical Fiction. She achieved the same wonderment in her last book, “The Separation”. What an intoxicating place Ceylon is, beginning with their home on the plantation. When Gwen took a walk on the grounds, I felt like I was walking alongside her. As the book stated “In the Land of Cinnamon and Jasmine”….I mean, that sounds so touchingly beautiful. Dinah Jefferies really “takes you there” on all of their walks, swimming trips, picnics, events, dinners, drives to Colombo (the big city where the boats come in and Tea Trade takes place) You will find yourself “googling” images of things, like the local animals meandering about that I had never heard of. (I did) I know this is an Historical Fiction, but I was still impressed with her knowledge of the political angst surrounding the Tea Farmers, their Workers, and others in 1920’s Ceylon. Dinah Jefferies wrote about the racism beginning to wrap Ceylon in to its mesh with a lot of heart. Racism was at an all-time high at this time in Ceylon, and this book brought all of it front and center. Will this have any effect on the lives of the Hooper’s? There are so many secrets, and so much pain and loss…betrayal, jealousy and guilt weave themselves among all of the characters. This is a story that will capture your heart right away! Will they make it through all of the stories they don’t easily share with one another? Or, will this be a move that Gwen never should have made? Join us, and help us root for Gwen and Laurence.
Beautiful historically accurate landscape, scenery & era, however character development is weak and let's down the intricate plot