This was a brilliant read. As soon as I started reading this book I just knew I was going to love it. Highly recommended

A well-written slow-burn that has stuck with me for months. I liked the juxtaposition of the two main settings: the world of theater and the horrific reality of life in the aftermath of a major war. The characters and plot were nicely fleshed out and the author didn't shy away from the darkness associated with the historical time period. Overall, a solid read.

I am in charge of our Senior School library and am looking for a diverse array of new books to furnish their shelves with and inspire our young people to read a wider and more diverse range of books as they move through the senior school. It is hard sometimes to find books that will grab the attention of young people as their time is short and we are competing against technology and online entertainments.
This was a thought-provoking and well-written read that will appeal to young readers across the board. It had a really strong voice and a compelling narrative that I think would capture their attention and draw them in. It kept me engrossed and I think that it's so important that the books that we purchase for both our young people and our staff are appealing to as broad a range of readers as possible - as well as providing them with something a little 'different' that they might not have come across in school libraries before.
This was a really enjoyable read and I will definitely be purchasing a copy for school so that our young people can enjoy it for themselves. A satisfying and well-crafted read that I keep thinking about long after closing its final page - and that definitely makes it a must-buy for me!

Set in the dreary, fog filled, ration-straitened London of 1947, this novel is a fascinating exploration of bereavement. Focusing on the recently deceased actor Charlie Grice, his wife Joan, the wardrobe mistress of the title, his actress daughter Vera and the German Jewish refugee, Frank Stone, the story is told through a Chorus-like omniscient voice whose wry asides become more and more telling as the story progresses. The bereaved Joan, drawn to her husband’s understudy, young Frank, as he manages to capture the essence of Gricey’s Malvolio, begins to adapt her husband’s wardrobe for the penniless actor and from there an unexpected relationship develops.
At the same time, the Chorus introduces us to Vera’s preparations for ‘The Duchess of Malfi’ in which she is to play the eponymous heroine. A brilliant actress, Vera is in a dark place; she is full of self-doubt, and mourning her father. Patrick McGrath’s clever choice of this play is most apt: focusing on socially inappropriate relationships, murders, mental instability and political corruption, it casts its shadow on the life of all the characters.
Alongside theatrical London, McGrath also reminds us that, strangely, fascism is not dead in 1947 England. There are those who fondly remember the glory days of Oswald Mosley and who are looking for scapegoats to blame for their continued suffering and poverty in the working class East End. How to stop the vituperative gatherings in a land which is only too aware of the dangers of banning freedom of speech was a very real dilemma. Vera’s husband and his Jewish friends work out a way in which to do so.
As in all successful novels – and plays – the many threads of the story are woven together to produce a tragedy, and yet one in which the deaths are the least remembered elements of the tale. McGrath captures the resilience and courage of post-war London as well as the despair and confusion that is all part of war’s aftermath. And the final pages are masterful. Just when one hopes that people will be taught how to change through tragedy, we are reminded that it often provides fuel for further horror.
My thanks to NetGalley and Penguin Random House UK for a copy of this novel in exchange for a fair review.

Although the author says this predominantly a book about the theatre it is also a book about post war austerity and Facism.
I found this book very dark and disturbing and although I read it to the end it made me feel very uncomfortable ,

A good 4 and a half stars, rounded up to 5.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. I liked the style of writing, the subject matter, the characterisation, the setting and the evocation of those post war years.

The comings and goings and feelings of the actors in this story set in the theatre were fascinating. I really felt like I had a window into a past time.

It wasn't quite a page turner for me, but I enjoyed opening the book every time. I would definitely recommend it.

Thank you very much to netgalley and the publisher for a copy of the text in return for an honest review.

Patrick McGrath is a superb writer who can infuse pages with atmosphere and a sense of place like nobody I can name. Joan Grice is an unforgettable character that will stay etched in my mind no matter what books I read next. The portrayal of post war London and its austerity as the people Keep Calm and Carry On is so vivid you almost need to put your coat on and your hands in your pockets to keep warm.

However, despite McGrath's writing making me feel as if I am living in the book and not just reading it, I did find myself a bit fidgety as the story unravelled. It drew me to it less and less, and not addictively. I made it through to the end and whilst it wasn't my favourite plot, the evocative scene setting and characterisation made this more like a curious trip back in time rather than a gripping read.

I don't know if it was because I wasn't feeling well, or if the book just didn't resonate with me, but I just couldn't get into it. I'm going to assume it was the head cold and give it a solid 3/5.

London in the bitterly cold winter of 1947. The actor Charlie Grice, known as Gricey, dies of a heart attack, and his grieving widow Joan, the eponymous wardrobe mistress for a theatre company, is not sure how she will cope without him. Joan is a non-observant Jew, while Charlie was a gentile. Matters are made worse with the troubles that her daughter Vera is suffering from, married to Julius Glass, for Joan a disliked son-in-law who argued with her husband just before his death, and Joan is convinced that this led to her husband’s untimely demise. Joan desperately misses her husband. When she sees Charlie’s understudy, the much younger Frank Stone, perform the part of Malvolio in Twelfth Night – the play that he was appearing in before his death, Joan is convinced that her husband has returned and is speaking to her through Frank. But then Joan discovers a shocking political secret about her deceased husband and she has to change many of her opinions about her family and friends in the light of the new knowledge. Relationships get messy as Frank and Joan become close and Joan is convinced that Gricey’s spirit has survived to haunt her.
The story is narrated by an offstage female Chorus that sees all and comments upon the tale as it unfolds. There is a dark, Gothic thread to the story set in post-War gloomy, austerity, ration-haunted London. Patrick McGrath is a highly accomplished writer and this novel is a delight to read.

This is a post-war story of identity, loss and betrayal in London. Joan Grice is widowed and as she shares her husband’s old wardrobe with a young actor she begins to understand more about her dead husband. She is surrounded by a cast of lost souls trying to find their place in a changed world. Beautifully written and emotionally charged, five stars.

Doyen of post-War London theatre Charlie Grace has just been buried and his widow Joan is finding it hard to cope. Her daughter is troubled in her marriage to an older man and Joan is attracted to a young actor who has taken over Gricey's role in Twelfth Night. Worse than that Joan is haunted by her husband and the secrets of his wardrobe. Over the cold winter of 1947 Joan discovers things about her husband that she finds her to accept and has the opportunity to help others even if that leads to danger.

This is a short and sparsely written book. Whilst the writing is taught, the plot is vague in terms of details but vivid in terms of what the reader has to add in to it. I loved the descriptions of the simplicity of life among the poor theatrical folk and the facts about the fascists still at large in London even after the war.

I thought the narrative was very interesting as it was looking in from the outside, like the reader was witnessing the events as they unravelled. The history element, although made uncomfortable reading, was very informative and it left me with a heightened sense of realisation of what had occurred after World War Two. I was sympathetic towards Joan and her betrayal, and other main characters certainly came to life. Setting the book within the theatre world was quite interesting and, I think, cleverly conceived. A well researched, thought provoking book.

Set in the freezing winter of 1947 in post-war austerity London, this dark tale of the theatre is both compelling and haunting. It opens with the funeral of Charlie Grice, one of the great actors of his day. Gathered round his graveside are the principal characters of the novel, his widow Joan, a wardrobe mistress, his daughter Vera, herself a talented actress, her husband Julian, a theatre impresario and finally Frank, Charlie’s understudy. And in the background the chorus, who narrate the action and comment on it. Frank has studied Charlie’s performance so thoroughly and his impersonation is so convincing that Joan begins to think that Charlie has come back to haunt her - and in a way he has, as secrets and deceptions gradually become uncovered and the tone darkens as comedy turns to tragedy. The sense of time and place is expertly portrayed and the evocation of post-war London with its lingering threat of Fascism is chilling indeed. It’s a multi-layered tale and as each layer is peeled away the reader is drawn inexorably into another world. A great read, absorbing, beautifully written, expertly paced and thoroughly enjoyable.

Set in and around London's West End in the aftermath of the Second World War, this novel gives the sense that victory has come at a huge cost. Instead of a country ready to rebuild and embrace happier times, the author conveys a grey, gloomy and bitterly cold London with skeletal bombed-out buildings and people struggling to get by on meagre rations. Patrick McGrath skilfully describes the city, evoking historical details and a pervading eerie unease. London provides a wonderful backdrop to the sinister events of the plot, dangerous political ideologies, and secrets harboured by the main characters. The book is creepy and unsettling, full of haunting echoes of the past and raw grief, perfect for reading on an Autumn evening.

DNF @ 60%

Hey, I gave this one a fair shot.

I was told this was going to be an atmospheric, slow burner that would stay with me long after finishing, but it was too much of a slow burner for me and I've decided I don't have the patience to finish this one off.

My reading mood has been very weird recently and if I'm not reading something that's fast-paced and ominous, I'm not into it. I enjoyed the part of this book I did read but I don't have it in me to finish it, it's not quick enough to keep my attention.

Just because I'm DNFing this one, doesn't mean I wouldn't recommend it. At no point did I think this was a badly written novel. The characters are in-depth, the story is interesting and the narration is different. It's just a "slow burner", as said before, so only read it if you have the patience to.

Thanks to Netgalley and Random House UK, Cornerstone for giving me the opportunity to read this in exchange for an honest review. Sorry I didn't enjoy it!

5 stars for this novel about 1940s London, the theatre, ambition, grief, sanity, fascism and so much more.

For a novel that shows us the bleakness of 1947 London so clearly, with its freezing winter, post-war rationing and continuing threat of fascist insurrection, The Wardrobe Mistress is surprisingly entertaining and enjoyable. The novel is narrated in theatrical style by the ladies of the Chorus, an omniscient omnipresent bunch who narrate, comment, gossip, lament and drop hints with some glee. This unusual narrative makes the novel glow with warmth and sly wit, and you never quite know where a sentence will lead, as for example when, some time after the death of actor Charles 'Gricey' Grice, his widow Joan and fur-coat wearing daughter Vera are embracing: 'Vera was in her arms now, sobbing, and what a rare pleasure this was, thought Joan, to sink her face into all that thick warm fur'.

Joan is the wardrobe mistress of the title, who discovers an awful truth about her dead husband. Grief (and, as a result, gin) causes her to struggle to keep sane, even as she worries about Vera's sanity. Vera's focus on acting is single-minded and very well explored by the author who evidently knows the theatre intimately and writes wholly convincingly about this world. The characters including Julius, Gustl and Frank are well-drawn, as is the horror and violence of 'inadequate Englishmen dressed up as Nazis'.

And Vera as The Duchess of Malfi is shown to be
a war hero to an audience weary of war.
When hope has gone they see in her a kind of courage the idea of which they've lived with since September 1939 but been unwilling to call as such, for that's not the British way. But here, now, on a London stage, in a play written more than three hundred years earlier, by an Englishman, they see it on display, and in the inarticulate depths of their weary souls they exult. What other country in Europe has stood firm against the Nazis? What other has given not an inch, collaborated not at all, been never occupied, has fought on to the bitter end and from the ruins emerged victorious? The Duchess of Malfi is the defiant antagonist of a demented megalomaniac with absolute power over life and death. In her they see themselves.

The Wardrobe Mistress is a timely novel, filled with light and darkness. I recommend it.

I received this ebook free from NetGalley.

To begin at the beginning: this is a beautifully told story of life in the theatre set in London, just after the war, in a period when rationing was still in full force and people really were eating spam, lard and onion sandwiches for sustenance and the Board of Trade had disallowed pleats in trousers, double breasted jackets and turn ups in trousers, the better to save on cloth. There’s lots of nice detail like this which helps to underline the poverty and the dearth of ‘nice to haves’ in all categories.

Our narrators in this tale at once strike us as unusual, for these are the ladies of the chorus. But this is not quite a Greek chorus, rather it is like the witches of Macbeth writ large – a chorus that is witty, judgemental, sarcastic and all observant. They don’t simply narrate the action, they comment upon it, drawing the reader in as if they were whispering secrets directly into the reader’s ear. And occasionally they forget if they have mentioned something, only to tell you that it doesn’t matter, it’s so important, it bears repeating.

It’s a bitterly cold January and Joan Grice, the wardrobe mistress of the Beaumont Theatre has just said goodbye to her husband, the actor Charlie Grice. Charlie was a much admired actor – a larger than life character and his funeral is well attended by members of the theatrical profession. Joan’s daughter, Vera, is there with her husband, the theatre producer Julian Glass. Julian’s theatre was bombed during the war, but he still invests in productions and Vera is a rising star in her own right.

Patrick McGrath has beautifully captured what it is to be part of the theatre world; the fragile egos, superstitions and eccentricities of actors; the all-consuming desire to let the actor become the character they are playing, the ambition and above all, the very real need to be loved and wanted by the audience.

Charlie had been playing Malvolio in Twelfth Night. No mere chance here; for Malvolio’s character is a sombre reminder of a past world – of the war gone by and the fact that we are still in a serious place in time. So when he abandons his propriety, it is all the more shocking and he looks all the more foolish to his audience.

Joan grieves deeply for her husband and looks for him in the smell of his clothes and sometimes, when she cannot bear the loss any more, in a bottle of gin. So when she sees young actor Frank Stone who has stepped in to play the part of Malvolio, she wonders at how remarkably similar his performance is to Charlie’s, down to every nuance, and begins to think that Charlie may have re-emerged in Frank’s persona.

So Joan cultivates a friendship with Frank, offering him some of Charlie’s, always well- tailored clothes, which she alters for him in her home. And still thinking that there is something of Charlie in him, their relationship deepens. As the chorus tells us; “It will happen in friendships like this, it is our observation, that a few days after the second or third meeting, when it’s become clear to both parties that something’s afoot – in the time spent apart, changes will have occurred within the imagination of each, and a new level of familiarity, or even intimacy, will have been achieved.”

There is no internal dialogue here; all comment is from our chorus so we watch, as an audience watches a play, as the drama unfolds. When Joan discovers that for all the years of her marriage Charlie was hiding a horrible secret; a secret that devastates her for Charlie was in with the fascists and Joan is a Jew; something Charlie knew. What now is she to make of her dead husband; the man who used to call her his Venus de Mile End?

As Joan delves deeper into Charlie’s secret life the tension grows as we explore the world of those who endeavoured to keep rise of fascism alive, resulting in a chilling piece of writing which has resonance for today.

I found this to be compelling, truthful in its exploration of the theatre world (a world I worked in for 20 years) beautifully told and genuinely haunting.

The Wardrobe Mistress is a tour de force.

Firstly, as an aside, can I say how good it is to come across a book blurb that is concise and doesn’t give too much away! Secondly, can I admit this is the first book I’ve read by Patrick McGrath but, on the strength of The Wardrobe Mistress, it certainly won’t be the last.

The book opens at the funeral of Charlie ‘Gricey’ Grice and the reader is immediately introduced to the ‘chorus’ who will be the book’s narrators, omnipresent onlookers to all the action. There is a sense that they already know what’s going to happen, that events are playing out in front of them as if in a play.

Gricey’s widow, Joan, is grief stricken at his death, finding solace in the touch and smell of his clothes, imagining she can hear his voice and sure she can sense his lingering presence. Her belief that Gricey’s spirit lives on is confirmed by the uncanny ability of the actor who takes over Gricey’s part in the play – Frank Stone – to enact the role exactly as her husband did – every mannerism, gesture and mode of speech exactly as he would have performed it. But, of course, everyone else knows Gricey is dead.

‘It’s certainly what we thought, and to think otherwise was mad, frankly, and heartbreaking too, poor Joan. But it seemed she could think both things at once, that he was dead, and alive too, in the body of another man.’

Frank’s performance – his ability to inhabit so perfectly the role performed by Gricey – is the spark that brings him and Joan together. In addition, Frank’s obvious poverty as a not very successful actor and his aura of neediness awaken something in Joan. Only later does she begin to detect the fierce streak of ambition under the surface.

And it’s not long before Joan discovers that her beloved Gricey wasn’t the man she thought he was. He’d concealed things from her, things that would have made her think quite differently about him: ‘Gricey – the hypocrite. Gricey the deceiver. The betrayer. The charlatan, the traitor. Oh, he was a character all right…’ It becomes apparent that his life outside the theatre was as much a performance as when he was on stage: ‘Their life together now seemed nothing but an elaborate performance of pretence and disguise, yes, his whole life a performance, he’d never stopped performing…’

Joan’s disgust when she finds out the truth leads her down a path that will have far-reaching consequences and only increase her sense of grief, loneliness, betrayal and desperation. ‘It was another kind of grief she felt, and far worse, with what she thought of as the second death. Her sorrow now was for herself, that he hadn’t allowed her to hold him in her memory as she would have liked to, but had left her with only a mask.’

The author evocatively conjures up the atmosphere of post-war London: the food shortages, the cold, the grime, and the people struggling to get by. ‘Magnificent in victory, oh yes – and bankrupt. Morally magnificent and economically broke. Exhausted. Oh, England. Smog, ruins, drab clothes, bad food, bomb craters and rats. There was work to be had – demolition.’ And although the war may be over, it isn’t the end of the evil forces that caused it or the need to fight against extremism and hate (a need which, sadly, continues to this day).

Against this backdrop, it’s easy to see the lure of the theatre with its bright lights and ability – if only temporary – to transport the audience to another place, away from the everyday struggle to earn a living, to keep warm. If it isn’t too obvious a metaphor, the theatre plays a key role in the book along with the recurrent theme of performance. The craft of the actors on stage and the thrill of live performance is celebrated.

‘He had of course that fierce bright fire in his eyes, it was always there when they came off stage at the end of the night, when they were full of life and of themselves.’

The role of the backstage staff, like Joan, proud of her skill as a wardrobe mistress and ruling the sewing room with a rod of iron, is recognised as well.

‘For it was an assault, what was suffered by the costumes in which actors stepped out each night then ripped off between scenes, until Joan and her girls took them in hand, applied sharp needles and, whispering soft words, brought them back good as new before sending them out to be ravaged again the next night.’

And as the book shows, it’s not only actors who use costume as a means of creating a character for themselves. Nowhere is the single-minded intensity needed to be a successful actor more effectively conveyed than in the character of Vera, Joan’s daughter. In Vera, the insecurities of an actor preparing for performance are writ large. One moment she’s withdrawing into her own private space and the next she’s almost preying on others to harvest the real-life experiences needed to produce her stage performance.

The Wardrobe Mistress had it all for me: atmospheric period setting, intriguing mystery and well-developed characters. I also enjoyed its very moving exploration of grief and betrayal, its joyful celebration of the theatre and insightful examination of the act of performance. Highly recommended.

I received an advance reader copy courtesy of NetGalley and publishers Cornerstone, return for an honest review.

This was not quite the book I was expecting from the title. Joan (the wardrobe mistress) was married to Gricey (a well known actor) with a daughter Vera (an actress) married to Julius who owns a theatre.Gricey's death Joan finds herself attracted to Frank and starts to give him her husbans cloths and sees her husband in him.
Running through the book is the fact that Jaon is a Jew and Gricey was heavily involved in the Facist movemnet during and after the war. This book shows how it affected people from all walks of life.

Really enjoyable and full of surprises. A few nasty tastes in the mouth but weirdly compulsive reading. Recommended...