Feminist rating 0.0 I’m sorry about this one folks! Whilst it was a thoroughly enjoyable read, there is almost no consideration of any Feminist issues even though the story is set in the roaring 20s, the year of seismic shifts in women’s political rights, and even though the plotline twice revolves around questions of marriage and sexual assault. Not a pick for the Feminist Book Bag.
“I’m no longer a man, I’m a chorus.”
Stuart Turton, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle
A body-swapping, time-hopping, ‘Groundhog Day’ murder mystery set in a 1920s country estate sounds like a recipe for disaster. Too many tropes mixed together with little scope for originality. But somehow, from this wreckage of mashed together ideas, Turton writes a frantically pacy, race-through-the-pages mystery which keeps the reader puzzling away right until the last few pages. And he throws in some astute observations about identity and construction of self in the face of terror too.
I wasn’t too convinced by the opening of this novel – our nameless narrator wakes in the middle of a forest with no idea who he is or why he is there, accept that someone is about to be killed and that ‘Anna’ has something to do with it. And, yes, Turton takes a chapter or two to warm up. But once the reader is introduced to each character in their turn, I think we can see why. Because our narrator – later he is revealed as Aiden Bishop – is trapped at Blackheath, forced each day into a new body, assuming everything from their appearance to their personality, until he solves a murder that appears to be suicide. The sense of disorientation that makes us think something is lacking in the opening is actually the sure foundation upon which Turton reveals himself as a masterful character-creator.
Here lies the genius behind The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle. Not the complex intricacies of the plot – although these are as resplendent as they are challenging and unlikely – but that Turton takes the worn-out concept of a body-swap to new degrees of characterisation and adds layers of interest to our narrator even as he embodies an array of ‘host’ characters. Each host has a unique perspective and role to play in solving Evelyn’s murder: from the loyal doctor through to the logical aristocrat and the murderous playboy. As Bishop inhabits each host, he, and therefore the reader, both try to recover some core similarities which would highlight his own attributes. Yet, at the same time, Bishop feels himself gradually eroded, eclipsed a little more by the strong personalities of the hosts. It’s truly a unique take on the character sketch and easily the most remarkable technical aspect of the novel.
This is the brilliant thing about The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle: it exists on two planes. The reader that wants to be entertained and amused gets exactly that, they are handed a perfect locked room mystery to puzzle away at alongside our narrator, and they keep turning those pages until the plot begins to crack. But the reader that wants something more, some deeper reflections on a significant theme, is also granted their wish. This compelling and pacy mystery is riddled with the self-doubt, loss and confusion over the role of self and identity that so characterises contemporary society.
“Yet instead of being angry, he pities me. That’s the worst part. Anger’s solid, it has weight. You can beat your fists against it. Pity’s a fog to become lost in.”
Stuart Turton, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle
Then there’s the plot itself. Without giving too much away, I can paint a little of the challenges awaiting the reader as they try to keep track of the clues and misinformation. With every passing day, Bishop awakes as a new host and a new suspect in the murder of Evelyn Hardcastle. Of course, anyone familiar with time-hop plotlines already knows there are always convenient caveats in place about what can and cannot be changed in the timeline – how else would the writer be able to tie up all the loose ends? But Turton manages to write these caveats into the actions of each host. The artist who writes down all the times the various hosts meet each other, the conniving Lord Ravencourt who succeeds in talking future events into being, the list goes on. But the storyline is so carefully crafted that none of these incidents feel forced.
The novel is meticulously paced according to the personality type of each host. From the cowardly doctor who begins the novel and the rash energetic playboy who Turton uses to get things moving following the astute and removed logic of the laborious Lord Ravencourt, each character is fully utilised as a tool to pace out the plotline. Lingering over each character, from the cowardly to the rash, is the menacing Footman. Here is our chilling antagonist, a violent killer roaming amongst the guests whom Bishop must identify and solve the murder before to escape Blackheath. The Footman puts in just enough timely appearances to leave the reader with the sensation that someone is watching them, lurking just out of sight as they frantically turn the pages…
This murder mystery certainly delivers. From a sceptical start, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle soon has Turton running rings around the reader as they try to keep track of the case. With a deep sense of foreboding throughout, every encounter between the characters sows a keener paranoia in the narrator. Given that we know exactly as much as he does, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle quickly turns into an eerily claustrophobic read that keeps you glancing over your shoulder for murderous party guests. Keep your notebook and pen handy for this one, you’ll want to keep your own case notes!
Overall rating 4.0 Bits of the plot just seemed a little too ludicrous for this to make the full five stars, along with the fact that one of the characters is casually revealed as a serial rapist, without any further discussion or consideration of the role his class and social standing play into covering up his abhorrent treatment of lower status women. But for readability and the moments of burning clarity as Turton considers how we build our sense of self, The Seven Deaths of Evelyn Hardcastle has to make it onto my summer recommended reads.
scribblinginthemargins 