The Chilbury Ladies' Choir [electronic resource] : A Novel

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-- People For readers of Lilac GirlsAs England becomes enmeshed in the early days of World War II and the men are away fighting, the women of Chilbury village forge an uncommon bond. They defy the Vicar’s stuffy edict to close the choir and instead “carry on singing,” resurrecting themselves as the Chilbury Ladies’ Choir. We come to know the home-front struggles of five unforgettable choir members: a timid widow devastated when her only son goes to fight; the older daughter of a local scion drawn to a mysterious artist; her younger sister pining over an impossible crush; a Jewish refugee from Czechoslovakia hiding a family secret; and a conniving midwife plotting to outrun her seedy past. An enchanting ensemble story that shuttles from village intrigue to romance to the heartbreaking matters of life and death, Jennifer Ryan’s debut novel thrillingly illuminates the true strength of the women on the home front in a village of indomitable spirit.

Verlag:

Random House Publishing Group,

Datum:

2017

Digitales Format:

CLOUDLIBRARY EPUB

Sprache:

Englisch

Zusammenfassung

NATIONAL BESTSELLER * "A delightful debut."-- People

For readers of Lilac Girls and The Nightingale , The Chilbury Ladies' Choir unfolds the struggles, affairs, deceptions, and triumphs of a village choir during World War II.

As England becomes enmeshed in the early days of World War II and the men are away fighting, the women of Chilbury village forge an uncommon bond. They defy the Vicar's stuffy edict to close the choir and instead "carry on singing," resurrecting themselves as the Chilbury Ladies' Choir. We come to know the home-front struggles of five unforgettable choir members: a timid widow devastated when her only son goes to fight; the older daughter of a local scion drawn to a mysterious artist; her younger sister pining over an impossible crush; a Jewish refugee from Czechoslovakia hiding a family secret; and a conniving midwife plotting to outrun her seedy past.

An enchanting ensemble story that shuttles from village intrigue to romance to the heartbreaking matters of life and death, Jennifer Ryan's debut novel thrillingly illuminates the true strength of the women on the home front in a village of indomitable spirit.

Rezensionen (4)

Publisher's Weekly-Rezension

In 1940, at a time when women's roles were still firmly rooted in home and hearth, the ladies of Chilbury, England, find themselves at the bleeding edge of progress as the ramifications of World War II begin to infiltrate their little town. The men of Chilbury head to battlefields, and the village choir becomes the first casualty of the war. When a female professor of music insists the choir can be reassembled as a ladies' choir, the small community is at first scandalized by such an idea. But this is soon lost to other more salacious events. There is the brigadier who hires an unscrupulous midwife to swap his baby girl for a boy, and his teenage daughter seduces a handsome artist who's come to town under mysterious circumstances. An upstanding single woman (a widow whose only son has gone to fight) is tapped to take a colonel into her home, and a 10-year-old Czech evacuee finds out what happened to her family. As the war advances on Chilbury, even more lives are changed when a German bomb kills a young mother as well as the choir mistress, young men are sent off to war, and spies and black market profiteers lurk in the quiet lanes. Told in the form of diaries and letters in the voices of the female characters, Ryan's novel, reminiscent of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, captures the experience of the war from a woman's perspective. Readers may have come across this kind of story before, but the letter/diary format works well and the plot elements satisfyingly come together. (Feb.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

Booklist-Rezension

Among the many changes that WWII brings to the little English village of Chilbury is the demise of the church choir, since all of the men are away. The women are still at home, though, and form the Chilbury Ladies' Choir. Ryan structures her novel in the form of letters and diary entries written by several members of the choir: nice, widowed Mrs. Tilling; waspish and scheming midwife Edwina Paltry; posh Venetia Winthrop, who becomes entangled with an artist who may or may not be a spy; and Venetia's 13-year-old sister, Kitty, who is trying to navigate her way through adolescence and first love. Working with multiple perspectives can be tricky, but Ryan generally does a convincing job of differentiating the women's voices as they offer their perspectives on various characters and plot threads that include black marketeering, espionage, baby swapping, sexual orientation, unplanned pregnancy, air raids, a Jewish refugee, romance, and more with so much going on that the choir story line gets lost. Still, readers who like home-front and small-English-village settings will enjoy this. Definitely hand it to fans of the PBS series Home Fires.--Quinn, Mary Ellen Copyright 2017 Booklist

New York Review of Books-Rezension

Ryan's first novel represents the sunnier side of World War II fiction, where women stand up for one another, frolic with whatever stray men are still about (dashing, flat-footed and otherwise) and solve a few mysteries. The empowerment is genteel. In Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows's "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society," such ladies (and a few gentlemen) tackled literature. Here they take up singing. Although the vicar has put the village choir on hiatus until the men return, Miss Primrose Trent, a music tutor from the local university who is prone to sweeping into rooms majestically (a role made for Emma Thompson), announces that the women will form their own singing group. Plotwise, a carrot in the form of a public choir competition is dangled, but the narrative is driven by the ladies' reconsideration of their own worth, whether over- or underinflated. Set during six months in 1940, the story unfolds mostly in letters and journal entries from nearly a dozen vantage points. Four dominate: Mrs. Margaret Tilling, a middle-aged widow about to send her only child off to the front; Edwina Paltry, a midwife of suspect ethical standards; and to-the-manor-born sisters, Kitty Winthrop, 13, and minxlike Venetia, 18, whose brother has just been killed in a submarine explosion. Dry your eyes: "He was a disgusting bully," Kitty writes in her diary. This death sets in play a baby-swapping plot hatched by the Brigadier, Kitty and Venetia's mustache-twiddling father, who needs a male heir. It's all quite diverting, even if Ryan sometimes seems more interested in describing her characters' clothing than their inner lives (skirt-swishing Venetia is a veritable Carmen Miranda). As for the war itself, it's mostly a narrative convenience, a way to get rid of supporting characters we're merely fond of, including one whose demise, while sad, neatly solves a dilemma. World War II is a way to tame a shrew and a bully and to pair off adorable couples of multiple generations. The fact that the fighting is still going strong at the book's end confirms that this isn't a story about war in any real sense, but rather a novel set in a time of war. To a tune called pleasing.

Library Journal-Rezension

It's 1940, and the European continent is being overrun by Hitler's troops. In Chilbury, Kent, -England, the women are doing their best to maintain morale and that includes keeping the choir going despite the lack of male voices. Mrs. Tilling is a nurse whose son is about to leave for France. She is keeping a journal, as does young Kitty Winthrop, just 13, but her entries relay a good deal of what's happening. In fact, the entire novel is composed of journal and diary entries, notices, documents, and correspondence. An unscrupulous midwife enters into a nefarious plot with Brigadier Winthrop. Kitty's older sister, Venetia, is playing a dangerous game by seducing the artist Mr. Slater. Within six months, the village undergoes many changes as war edges closer to home. Unfortunately, debut author Ryan miscalculates the credibility of her novel's structure and her narrators. Would the vile Miss Paltry reveal her illegal dealings in letters to her sister? Would Venetia be injured by an errant bomb and still find the wherewithal to pick up pen and paper? VERDICT The stalwart ladies of the choir deserve better. Not a necessary -purchase. [See Prepub Alert, 8/26/16.]-Bette-Lee Fox, -Library Journal © Copyright 2016. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

Auszüge

MRS. TILLING'S JOURNAL Tuesday, 26th March, 1940 First funeral of the war, and our little village choir simply couldn't sing in tune. "Holy, holy, holy" limped out as if we were a crump of warbling sparrows. But it wasn't because of the war, or the young scoundrel Edmund Winthrop torpedoed in his submarine, or even the Vicar's abysmal conducting. No, it was because this was the final performance of the Chilbury Choir. Our swan song. "I don't see why we have to be closed down," Mrs. B. snapped afterward as we congregated in the foggy graveyard. "It's not as if we're a threat to national security." "All the men have gone," I whispered back, aware of our voices carrying uncomfortably through the funeral crowd. "The Vicar says we can't have a choir without men." "Just because the men have gone to war, why do we have to close the choir? And precisely at a time when we need it most! I mean, what'll he disband next? His beloved bell ringers? Church on Sundays? Christmas? I expect not!" She folded her arms in annoyance. "First they whisk our men away to fight, then they force us women into work, then they ration food, and now they're closing our choir. By the time the Nazis get here there'll be nothing left except a bunch of drab women ready to surrender." "But there's a war on," I said, trying to placate her loud complaining. "We women have to take on extra work, help the cause. I don't mind doing hospital nurse duties, although it's busy keeping up the village clinic, too." "The choir has been part of the Chilbury way since time began. There's something bolstering about singing together." She puffed her chest out, her large, square frame like an abundant Field Marshall. The funeral party began to head to Chilbury Manor for the obligatory glass of sherry and cucumber sandwich. "Edmund Winthrop," I sighed. "Only twenty and blown up in the North Sea." "He was a vicious bully, and well you know it," Mrs. B. barked. "Remember how he tried to drown your David in the village pond?" "Yes, but that was years ago," I whispered. "In any case, Edmund was bound to be unstable with his father forever thrashing him. I'm sure Brigadier Winthrop must be feeling more than a trace of regret now that Edmund's dead." Or clearly not, I thought as we looked over to him, thwacking his cane against his military boot, the veins on his neck and forehead livid with rage. "He's furious because he's lost his heir," Mrs. B. snipped. "The Winthrops need a male to inherit, so the family estate is lost. He doesn't care a jot about the daughters--" We glanced over at young Kitty and the beautiful Venetia. "Status is everything. At least Mrs. Winthrop's pregnant again. Let's hope it's a boy this time round." Mrs. Winthrop was cowering like a crushed sparrow under the weight of Edmund's loss. It could be me next, I thought, as my David came over, all grown up in his new army uniform. His shoulders are broader since training, but his smile and softness are just the same. I knew he'd sign up when he turned eighteen, but why did it happen so fast? He's being sent to France next month, and I can't help worrying how I'll survive if anything happens to him. He's all I have since Harold passed away. Edmund and David often played as boys, soldiers or pirates, some kind of battle that Edmund was sure to win. I can only pray that David's fight doesn't end the same way. The war has been ominously quiet so far, Hitler busy taking the rest of Europe. But I know they're coming, and soon we'll be surrounded by death. It'll be like the last war, when a whole generation of men was wiped out, my own father included. I remember the day the telegram came. We were sitting down for luncheon, the sun spilling into the dining room as the gramophone played Vivaldi. I heard the front door open, then the slump of my mother's body as she hit the floor, the sunshine streaming in, unaware. Now our lives are going into turmoil all over again: more deaths, more work, more making do. And our lovely choir gone, too. I've half a mind to write to the Vicar in protest. But then again, I probably won't. I've never been one to make a fuss. My mother told me that women do better when they smile and agree. Yet sometimes I feel so frustrated by everything. I just want to shout it out. I suppose that's why I started a journal, so that I can express the things I don't want to say out loud. A program on the wireless said that keeping a journal can help you feel better if you have loved ones away, so I popped out yesterday and bought one. I'm sure it'll be filled up soon, especially once David leaves and I'm on my own, thoughts surging through my head with nowhere to be let out. I've always dreamed of being a writer, and I suppose this is the closest I'll get. Taking David's arm and following the crowd to Chilbury Manor, I looked back at the crumbling old church. "I'll miss the choir." To which Mrs. B. roundly retorted, "I haven't seen you instructing the Vicar to reverse his decision." "But, Mrs. B.," David said with a smirk. "We always leave it up to you to make a stink about everything. You usually do." I had to hide my smile behind my hand, waiting for Mrs. B.'s wrath. But at that moment, the Vicar himself flew past us, trotting at speed after the Brigadier, who was striding up to the Manor. Mrs. B. took one look, seized her umbrella with grim determination, and began stomping after him, calling, "I'll have a word with you, Vicar," her usual forthright battle cry. The Vicar turned and, seeing her gaining pace, sprinted for all he was worth. Excerpted from The Chilbury Ladies' Choir: A Novel by Jennifer Ryan All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.