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A dual timeline involving apothecary owner Nella and her 12-year-old protege Eliza in the 18th century and modern-day Caroline. The story, housed in a stunning cover, had all the ingredients for greatness. But then, Sarah Penner happened.
SPOILERS (and mainly a rant)
What else was good about this book? Absolutely nothing. Caroline is a gal from Ohio who completed a mediocre History degree and for some reason decided to go to Cambridge for a Masters but then her boyfriend proposed so since there are no postgraduate courses in the whole of the USA, that was it with higher education. Until the said man cheats on her so Caroline decides to go on a planned trip to London by herself where she finds an apothecary vial and decides to investigate its origin. And just like that with the help of library worker Gaynor (who gives her private number to a stranger off the street), she is able to easily trace it to a derelict building in the centre of London which is around the corner from her hotel. So she trespasses, easily identifies a hidden room, grabs historical objects with her hands and takes flash photography. Her cheating man arrives and begs for forgiveness. And as if there are not enough reasons to dislike Caroline, she is an essential oils girlie. So her man takes her bottle of essential oil, drinks it and when he starts puking blood, calls her for help because 911 in the UK does not connect you to an emergency operator (shocker). Since Caroline at that time is sitting next to Gaynor, she decides the most logical thing to do is not to ask the Brit for the correct number but to run back to the hotel first. And then when the ambulance is finally called (who would not introduce themselves as “medics� because here it means a doctor and not a short version of a paramedic), she and her husband waste more time by not explaining what has happened. When there is deliberation about taking this guy to the hospital (acute GI bleed y’all), the paramedic decides to look around the room and finds Caroline’s notes on apothecary poisons. And that day the paramedic woke up and chose jumping to conclusions because they call the police (nwm a guy bleeding away from his orifice, the priority is to get that crime reference number). So the police come and play “bad cop / bad cop� and tell Caroline that while at intensive care, her husband told the charge nurse (who then decides that this acutely unwell guy can wait until she fulfils her most important nursing duty of passing the gossip to the police) that they have marital problems. Caroline then decides she’d rather be arrested for murder than admit her trespassing (which she builds up as if it’s so bad that she will be immediately thrown into the Tower of London, put into chains and be subjected to public flogging). All suspicions are dropped when Gaynor arrives to confirm her story and her resuscitated husband admits it was his fault for drinking from a bottle with the hazardous message written in big bold letters. Very successful men working in a big firm have problems reading, obvs.
Meanwhile, all the way back at 1790s Nella has worsening arthritis but reasoning is not her strongest point so she assumes she has been possessed by a demon after she spent years dispensing poison and then writing every woman’s name and method of killing in her book in order to preserve their voices in history and simultaneous serve as the tabulated and concise evidence which would facilitate the justice system to hang them all in the gallows. Eliza finds her way into the apothecary, after her mum drops her off at the tender age of 10 to serve as a servant in a house in London, neglecting any need to address sex education so the girl has no idea about periods.
These absurd shenanigans have got on my nerves and I DNF’ed it at 86%.
This book is for you if you love:
- Author doing research from TV drama
- Women being obsessed with getting pregnant
- Unoriginal dialogue
- Main protagonists making stupid decisions
- “I’m not like other girls� girl
- People spending 10 years putting numbers into a spreadsheet but still have the confidence of an average man to think they will be accepted into Cambridge masters where one year fees for overseas students are more expensive than a whole undergraduate degree
- Prose reminiscent of your GCSE English essays