Reviewed by Ambrea
It
goes without saying Jem Flockhart received an unconventional upbringing growing
up in the shadow of St. Saviour’s Infirmary; however, her unusual childhood
goes deeper than that. Raised as a boy
and given all the opportunities of a male colleague at the London infirmary,
Jem has spent her life under her father’s tutelage as an apothecary and she has
watched the everyday happenings—the backstabbing, the bickering, the ambition
and personal jealousies that hide beneath a professional façade—of St.
Saviour’s.
But
when six tiny coffins, each filled with dried flowers and bundles of bloody
rags, are uncovered in the infirmary’s old chapel, Jem is catapulted into a new
mystery with deadly consequences. Pitted against an adversary both powerful and
ruthless, Jem follows a dangerous and winding path that leads her from the
squalor of the alleyways of London and the dissecting tables of St. Saviour’s
to the stinking depths of Newgate Prison.
Grim, haunting, and tragic, Beloved
Poison by E.S. Thomson is a dark tale that sinks deep into the dark heart
of the medical profession.
When
I picked up Beloved Poison, I read
the blurb on the back of the book written by Janet Ellis, author of The Butcher’s Hook. It state simply:
“Beloved Poison is a marvelous, vivid
book with a thoughtful, engaging protagonist at its center—and a fascinating
story to tell. It’s immaculately
researched and breathtakingly dark.
Elain Thomson’s descriptive powers are so great that I was surprised to
see twenty-first century London rather than the grimy, smelly St. Saviour’s
around when I—eventually—looked up from its pages.”
As
I read this, I felt a familiar jolt of recognition that told me this would be a
good book—no, a great book. And I wasn’t disappointed.
Richly
atmospheric, as the book jacket promises, Beloved
Poison is a wonderfully descriptive novel that plumbs the darkest depths of
Victorian London. It sheds light on a
horrifyingly brutal series of murders that will rock the residents of St.
Saviour’s to the core, tearing back the veil on the social conditions of the
poor and highlighting the grim realities of 19th century medical
science. Secrets, lies, and murder will
abound. It’s all very horrible.
And
yet I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it very
much.
Jem
is one of the more intriguing characters I’ve had the chance to meet. She’s daughter to St. Saviour’s apothecary,
but she’s been raised as his son—and no one, except a very few who may have
their suspicions, knows of her identity.
She keeps her hair cut short, she walks and speaks as a man might, she
wears clothes as a man would wear. She’s
been given a startling taste of independence and, yet, she knows she would be
condemned for her, what society would term, “abnormal behavior.” She’s deeply conflicted.
Furthermore,
she’s a thoughtful and insightful narrator.
She’s complex, she’s intelligent, and she’s unique for her ability to
understand the minds of both women and men—as she has lived as both in her
lifetime. She’s absolutely fascinating,
and I was eager to learn more about her.
Although Jem’s investigation takes center stage, I found myself just as
curious about her and her world as the identity of the killers.
Jem,
like the coffins she discovers in the old chapel, is a puzzle. She’s complicated, yes, but I liked that Jem
had so many layers to her character. I
liked that she was so continuously conflicted by her identity and her struggles
as she straddled the world of both men and women. As I read, I discovered she must keep her
gender a secret: she hides behind her
marvelously dark birthmark and a caustic wit, she masks any touch of femininity
in her character, she learns to act as a man might and treat others as a man would. She grapples daily with her own doubts and
fears, facing the somber reality of Victorian social expectations and her
unconventional upbringing. She’s often
left wondering whether she’s been ruined for her “unnatural habits”—or has she
been given an unexpected taste of independence, a unique identity that allows
her to perceive the world in a completely different light?
I
loved it. I grew to love her and her
story and, truthfully, I couldn’t wait to read more. I devoured E.S. Thomsons’ novel within a
couple of days and, after discovering a sequel is in the works (titled Dark Asylum), I’m extremely excited to
read more.
However,
I will note something about Beloved
Poison: it’s extremely violent and
very graphic. As a reader, you will
encounter gore, sexual abuse and exploitation, as well as confront a callous
disregard for human life. Not to
mention, the general uncleanliness practiced by medical professionals of the
day. For example, it’s incredibly
distressing to read about a man having his leg amputated without any anesthetic
or hearing, in detail, about a necropsy.
Or, and here’s a familiar scene, watching a man inject himself with
syphilis.
Something
similar happened in The Anatomist’s
Apprentice by Tessa Harris and you’d think I’d be used to it by now. But, no, it’s no less jarring in Beloved Poison.
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