There are one or two false notes in this novel, that coming from such an accomplished writer and one whom I usually enjoy unreservedly, I found jarring. In much of the book Howard’s unerring eye is in evidence, with her acute social observation, her ear for dialogue and her insight into women’s inner selves. But here she creates a male character who is so unlikable that her normal sure touch seems to fail her and he seems little more than a caricature of an arrogant, domineering and malevolent man. The structure I liked. Antonia Fleming’s story is narrated backwards from the 1950s to the 1920s. It is obvious from the first pages that she is trapped in an unsatisfactory marriage and as we travel back over the decades we discover how she arrived at her current unhappy situation. This is all done very well. But Conrad Fleming plus one or two of the other male characters simply don’t ring true. It could be that Howard wasn’t yet experienced enough herself – this is an early novel – to create more credible male characters, as she so brilliantly does in the Cazalet Chronicles for example. Nevertheless I did enjoy the book on the whole, and Antonia herself is a memorable and convincing portrait of a woman trapped in her time and place.