The Forgotten Garden: Kate Morton

When I got to the last page of this book and read the last word, I just sat there.

What a gripping story and oh my how tragically depressing. But it wasn’t tragic in a terrible don’t want to read it kind of way, but in a tragic you wanted so bad for the ending to change kind of way, but alas no. From the first few pages you are told the ending, you just didn’t know why the ending was what it was. It was a very well crafted and well written mystery that slowly unfolds.

This was not a short read, 560 pages, but I enjoyed it.
It spun throughout the book 3 time periods and 3 different (yet the same) stories.
Each were gripping in their own way, but by far Eliza and Nell’s stories were the most intense.

The only thing I didn’t like was the ‘present day’ storyline of Cassandra was a bit boring in comparison to Eliza and Nell’s stories. I found myself skimming Cassandra’s story (but of course feeling for her in her own tragic life).

Anyways, totally recommend this book and will give it 4 stars.

Summary:
Kate Morton’s The Forgotten Garden takes root in your imagination and grows into something enchanting–from a little girl with no memories left alone on a ship to Australia, to a fog-soaked London river bend where orphans comfort themselves with stories of Jack the Ripper, to a Cornish sea heaving against wind-whipped cliffs, crowned by an airless manor house where an overgrown hedge maze ends in the walled garden of a cottage left to rot. This hidden bit of earth revives barren hearts, while the mysterious Authoress’s fairy tales (every bit as magical and sinister as Grimm’s) whisper truths and ignite the imaginary lives of children. As Morton draws you through a thicket of secrets that spans generations, her story could cross into fairy tale territory if her characters weren’t clothed in such complex flesh, their judgment blurred by the heady stench of emotions (envy, lust, pride, love) that furtively flourished in the glasshouse of Edwardian society. While most ache for a spotless mind’s eternal sunshine, the Authoress meets the past as “a cruel mistress with whom we must all learn to dance,” and her stories gift children with this vital muscle memory.

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