Review of The Curse of Morton Farmhouse

By Nia Liversuch

The Curse of Morton Farmhouse by Derek Smith is a novel of many layers. It begins in a similar vein to a Jane Austen novel, with the introduction of Anne, a young woman from a wealthy but sheltered background, who achieves her desire to gain an education in business – unusual for a woman of the 1930s, the period in which the novel is set. Anne’s time at college in London leads to a coming of age for her, where she meets high society women and engages in a flirtatious romance with a young officer named Jeremy. The couple’s whirlwind romance is hastened by the onset of World War Two, and it soon becomes clear that Jeremy’s top-secret role in the armed forces will cause them to be separated for long periods of time, despite their recent marriage and the purchase of Morton Farmhouse and the accompanying land. The reader follows Anne and Jeremy as they fight to be together despite the distance between them that is created by the war.
The novel’s depiction of World War Two is fascinating. The examination of the strong base that the Home Front created for the war effort is engaging, and Smith’s focus on the necessity of agriculture and small industries recognises the unrelenting hardship and bravery of those who were left behind. Anne is shown to be a strong heroine at the centre of the novel; she does not crumble under the emotions aroused by her husband’s frequent departures, nor the pressures of singlehandedly running a farm. Her inner strength is admirable, and Smith’s depiction of her is honest and realistic, and he consistently sets her up as a sympathetic and likeable character.
The Curse of Morton Farmhouse reveals itself to be a very complex novel, through its portrayal of a number of themes. The novel progresses from initially starting off as a romance, to becoming a tale of war and tragedy, which is both emotive and gripping. It then develops into a fascinating examination of post-war life, both in terms of the personal lives of the characters and the new strains and hardships placed on the farm by the changing society in Britain. The lives of the future generations are developed, and these younger characters become equally as engaging and relevant to the reader as their parents and grandparents – a skill of Smith’s. The novel twists and turns through themes, eventually leading the reader to a mysterious disappearance that is not solved until the final pages. These themes and plot developments are all held together by a fascinating device – the curse that supposedly hangs over Morton Farmhouse, where Anne and Jeremy moved after their marriage. Smith is clever in his depiction of the curse; it does not weigh heavily on the novel, and is sometimes forgotten in the action of a drama on the farm, or a wartime tragedy, but it is always lingering in the background. Perceptive readers will notice a link between the original curse and the lives of Anne and her family – but will they be able to break the hold over Morton Farmhouse and attain happiness?
The novel is, at times, a slow burner, but is powerful in its portrayal of several stages of one woman’s life, as well as the lives of her family. Readers will develop a bond with the characters which will grip them until the final pages and leave them considering Morton Farmhouse and its occupants for a long time afterwards.

A Winter’s Tale

Helen Barlow had been born in Bristol one cold December day in 1870, and it was in the winter of her seventieth year when she left the city for good. She had at long last retired, and decided to move into the country for some fresh air and quietness. During her life Helen had worked as supporting actress on the stage, whenever she could. But to keep the wolf from the door she also worked as a supply Drama teacher. Helen loved to ice skate so was able to get many roles in ice pantomime which combined the two things she loved the most.

As a drama teacher she had often gone on courses at Lerchesfonte Manor. She soon fell in love with the area. The village of Lerchesfonte was in Wiltshire and was a thriving one, and as with many villages of the time it was well served with shops. A butcher, together with its own small slaughter house, was a site to see the windows having a wonderful display of the produce sold within. There was also a hardware store and two small grocery shops, they were close together in the centre of the village and always seemed to have at least one customer inside. Dotted around the rest of the village was a builder’s yard that doubled as undertakers, a thatcher, a second hand furniture shop and a garage. On the outskirts of Lerchesfonte there was also a wheelwright and blacksmiths that were both well used by the nearby farmers.

The village itself nestled in rolling hills at the edge of Salisbury Plain. Although the village was not big it served a large area, and was able to support two public houses, to balance this there was both a chapel and a beautiful church that looked after the spiritual needs of the residents. Although Helen loved the thought of living in the village she had come to know during her brief stays, she knew she would need to keep busy, and keep her mind stimulated, in her retirement or she would quickly regret moving from the city life that had been central to her previous life.
While Helen had been attending her final drama course she heard that one of the local farmers was selling off two of his farm workers cottages. They were semi- detached and looked as if they should be on a chocolate box, being thatched with pretty cottage gardens. They were well sited and overlooked the village green. It seemed as if fate was giving her a helping hand, so Helen put in an offer of three hundred and fifty pounds and was soon the proud owner of one of them. It was the first time she had ever owned her own home and couldn’t wait to sit next to her own fire place. Helen knew that Lerchesfonte Manor ran many different educational courses, so she would be able to use all her new found spare time in a meaningful manner. She felt that an active brain helped to keep the body active and healthy. Having no close family she would need the companionship that the courses would offer, and hoped to make many new friends and also be able to keep in touch with old ones she had met at her previous courses.

It was the first of November when she left Bristol and moved in to her new home. She was exited as she set off with all her possessions, sitting in the front of the van with the driver. It was bitterly cold and she was glad of the company. They stopped several times at small cafes to warm themselves with a cup of tea. The stops also allowed her to warm up a little. The van that brought her to the cottage was small as she had few possessions, having spent all her adult life in rented rooms. The small table and two chairs that sat in the corner of her new living room had once been her parents. She had always taken them with her no matter how small her accommodation. They held many memories of her childhood. She had to sell the other two chairs long ago as she had seldom had rooms large enough to take the full set. The only other item she had for the room was a small electric fire which she quickly plugged in. She would sort out the open fire as soon as she could. Luckily the cottage had a mains electric supply, as many of the cottages on the outskirts of the village were not yet connected to the grid. In the single bedroom she had a camp bed and several blankets, which she had used when in the theatre to rest between acts. Due to the fickle nature of her acting roles she had often worked as a teacher during the day when she was due to be on stage in the evening. This resulted in her needing to snatch sleep when she could. The driver put her case in the corner of the bedroom, it held all her clothing. In the small kitchen was a box that contained some cooking utensils, a small amount of crockery and cutlery. It seemed to be such a small amount of belongings to show for a life’s work. But at least she had managed to save so now had her own home and would no longer need to rent rooms every again. For the first time since leaving her parents Helen had somewhere she could call home.

By the time Helen had said goodbye to the van driver it was dark, and she felt really tired and went to bed. Helen woke up in the early hours freezing cold so she put on a thick jumper and woollen hat to help keep warm and crept back under her blankets. By the morning the inside of the window panes were covered in ice that had formed pretty patterns. She went down stairs and switched on her small fire, rubbing her hands together and stood for a while to get warm. After a few minutes Helen went into the kitchen and put the kettle on and drank a warming cup of tea. Using the small amount of hot water left in the kettle she had a quick wash at the kitchen sink. Going back upstairs she got herself dressed.

Taking some old newspaper, she had previously cut into small squares and threaded on some string, she went outside. Just outside the back door across the path was an outhouse with two doors. The one on the left was the toilet. After using the facilities she felt ready to face the day ahead. Opening the second door, which contained coal bunker, she was pleased to find a small amount of coal in one corner together with some kindling wood and a few logs. It was as if someone had made sure she had enough items necessary for her first day in her new home. Gathering up what she required Helen went back into the house. It had been years since she had light a kitchen range. In the city she had become used to having gas. After a bit of a fiddle she finally got a fire going. Unpacking the box in the kitchen she found her bread knife and taking out the remains of a loaf she had brought with her she cut off a slice. Standing by the range with the bread speared on the knife she made herself some toast.

So Helen thought this was to be her first meal in her new home. She smiled to herself on hearing the water heating up as the back boiler did its work. She knew she would both love and hate the range, she was not looking forward to keeping it clean. But it would mean she would always have hot water available whenever she needed it.

Looking outside Helen quickly realised she would need to organise herself. Putting on her coat and picking up her basket she set off to the shops, she had soon ordered her groceries. The storekeeper was a pleasant man who loved to chat and Helen found no difficulty in asking him all about the local services. Finding that she had missed the milkman that day the shopkeeper let her have some until the delivery in the morning. Leaving the grocers she went to both the bakers and the butchers and arranged for them to call on their rounds. Picking up a small loaf and a bun to keep her going she set of to the second hand furniture shop to see if she could get a few more things to make her new home more comfortable. The shop was a treasure trove and she soon found a comfortable chair to put by the fire and a proper bedstead and mattress. She was pleasantly surprised at the cost, so brought a small chest of drawers all second hand but good quality. The shopkeeper said he could deliver in half an hour and offered her a lift if she wanted one. Helen gladly accepted and as she had a bit of time went and ordered some coal.

The man who took her and her furniture home was kind enough to carry it all inside and put the items where she asked. Thanking him for his kindness she was soon settled down by her range having her second cup of tea. Helen was kept busy all day, as the grocer called with her order and the baker and butcher arrived. It seemed that she had been fortunate in her choice of day to move in as by the evening her cupboards had food and she had the means to keep warm and cook her food. She had spent what seemed to her to be a large amount of money, but felt happier than she had for some time. It was a good omen for the future.
The next morning she woke to find she had a cold coming, so she stayed in for a few days as it was bitterly cold outside. At least her purchases the day before had left her with enough food to keep her going. Looking out of her sitting room window she watched as some of the locals built a large fire on the green. Tractors were coming and going all day, the fire was getting bigger by the hour, as broken gates, hedge cuttings and all sorts of combustibles were added. It seemed the whole village was having a clear out. Looking at her calendar she at last understood the reason for such industry. It was November the fifth, Bonfire night! The next evening the villagers started to gather around the fire. Helen felt left out, but it was still bitterly cold out and she didn’t feel well enough to join them. Drawing her comfortable chair to the window she sat and watched the fun. Before long the fireworks were being let off one by one. First the Catharine wheels then the volcanos. In between the fireworks the older children were setting of jumping jacks behind the adults, this caused a great deal of shouting. Some of the other children were being supervised as they were each given sparklers to hold. Helen could see the patterns they were making as they burnt. Finally the rockets went up into the sky causing gasps of amazement from the crowd. It was quite late by the time the last of the villagers left the green. Although Helen was sorry she couldn’t join the fun, she was sure that this was a village with a good community spirit and she was looking forward to being part of the community.

During the next few weeks Helen met several of her neighbours, and began to feel at home. The lady in the cottage attached to hers was kind enough to let her have some curtains. She had recently replaced her own and noticing that Helens windows were bare offered her old ones. Helen was glad of the extra privacy and they also kept out some of the draughts. They would do nicely until she went to the local town to buy some material to make her own.

Time flew passed and didn’t seem long at all before the carol singers arrived at her door. The children were hoping to make some pocket money to buy some paper chains, so they could decorate their homes for Christmas. She remembered sitting with her own mother assembling the strips of paper to decorate her own home. It didn’t seem long afterwards that the New Year started. The cold weather set in and there was a hard frost that lasted well over a week. One Saturday morning she woke up to find snow had been falling. Wrapping herself up warm against the cold Helen sat off to the shops, as she walked she admired the pristine snow and how it made the village look even prettier. On her way back to her cottage she decided to go past the village pond. Rounding the corner the sight took her breath away. She couldn’t think of any picture she had ever seen that matched what she was before her. The pond had frozen over and the children were playing on the ice. Some had sledges and others were either sliding across the pond or skating around the edges. The pond was overlooked by a three story Georgian house, known locally as the Ark. To the left of the house was a large fir tree covered in snow and to the right, in the background, the church and vicarage could be seen with their roofs covered with a dusting of snow.

Helen stood in awe for some time until the spell was broken by a land rover coming out of the farm drive. The driver stopped and talked to some of the children. They were trying to get the young farmer to drive his vehicle across the ice. After much debate he agreed as long as at least one of the children sat with him, there was no shortage of volunteers. Helen tried to get them to see sense but to no avail. Standing with the other children she stood hardly daring to breathe, as they watched from the bank, as the land rover edged its way onto the ice. Although the ice didn’t break the weight made the ice move and crackling noises could clearly be heard. Helen breathed a sigh of relief and joined the children in cheering as they safely reach the other side. The farmer was popular with all the village children who often rode on the wagons at harvest time, but the children all agreed that going across the ice was much more exciting.

Helen continued on her way home, as she put her shopping away she decided to get her skates out after lunch and go back to the pond. It had been some time since she had been skating. When she arrived at the pond it was even busier than it had been that morning. It was half day working for a lot of the villagers and it seemed to her that most of the villagers had arrived. Watching for a while she was surprised how well some of them could skate. She sat on the bench and put on her own skates and then joined the others. Within minutes she was the centre of attention and she was enjoying the feeling. It had been sometime since she had been on the ice. Some of the villagers tried to copy her more adventurous moves. By the end of the afternoon Helen had made more new friends than she had in a lifetime. Darkness began to fall as the land rover came back out of the drive. Helen hoped that the driver didn’t repeat his previous antics. She needn’t have worried, as he stopped with his headlights shining across the pond so the villagers could enjoy themselves for a bit longer. Later that evening tired but very happy Helen made her way home. At last she felt part of the village community and had received several invitations to meet up the following week

From that time on Helen was fully involved in village life. She went to film nights in the Village Hall; nobody had television in the village, and afterwards was always accompanied by one villager or another to see her safely home. Helen also joined the local Woman’s Institute, so with the occasional course at the Manor she always had plenty to do. She never regretted her move to the village, and lived an active life until just after her ninetieth birthday.

Helen was found dead when the milkman noticed that her milk was still on the doorstep the following day. She had died peacefully in her sleep. Half the village turned out for her funeral. She had been well loved in the village and by the time she died had been considered one of them.

If Helen was alive today she wouldn’t recognise Lerchesfonte all the shops and businesses have closed, one by one, and the village life she had loved had gone with it. The village like so many others is now just a place where the people travel back to after working. But who knows the village pond is still there and if the winters become harder once again perhaps the spirit will rise again and others will find new friendships, as Helen had done many years before.

Point the finger of blame review

[Following is the official OnlineBookClub.org review of “Point the Finger of Blame” by Derek Smith.]

Point the Finger of Blame by Derek Smith is a Historical Fiction novel that shows how war can affect those involved and the ever lasting damage it can have on all those involved’s mental state. More importantly it shows how soldier’s were treated while performing their duties and then made to pick their own lives back up once they were returned to the civilian world. This is a story that held me captive from the moment I first picked the book up to read to the very last page.

The story began getting to know Jimmy McLeod’s parents and their back ground. As the story progresses Jimmy wants to follow in his father’s footsteps to be a game keeper on the estate that his family lives on. Only with the economy suffering he finds himself unable to. Taking up a job, working for a gunsmith, he continues to build skills that will set him up for the near future. All of this sets him up for when he is called up to serve his country and queen during the Korean War. The story shows how every decision yup make can have life altering affects on you and the people around you. It also shows how there wasn’t much if any help for soldiers during that time once they finished their duty and were sent back to pick up their own lives where they left off. When Jimmy is released from his duties he tries to pick his life up where he left off but soon realized that he preferred being alone as he had been most of his tour in Korea. Moving around he continues to live the single life and finds himself going from job to job. The ending brings a very much unexpected twist when murders start happening and when you think the mystery is solved, Jimmy falls ill and on his death bed, he explains who really committed the crimes and how they were really done.

This story has made the list as one of my favorites. The foreshadowing in the beginning, the character development making the characters easily relate-able and almost seemed as if you knew them, to the twist at the end, I do believe the twist was my favorite because it is not something that is unexpected but weighs heavily on the main characters past decisions and actions and how they ultimately affect him. He practically has no family and no real friends. He found peace in solitude and with the wildlife that he has loved dearly since he was a young boy, as he continues to grow older and starts to fall ill, his trips to go fishing become less and less frequent as he life becomes difficult.

I can honestly say there wasn’t anything that I didn’t like about this novel. The plot was laid out perfectly, the characters were very real and allowed the reader to feel connected to them. The foreshadowing in the beginning in a way set the mood of foreboding for the entire book. As the story begins to come to a close and murders start taking place the author gives no clues that Jimmy is in any way has taken up killing until he is on his deathbed. I felt a lot of emotion throughout the story, particularly this part, mostly sympathy for what he had had to endure as a soldier in that time and the difficulties he had to face from that point up until he died.

I rate Point the Finger of Blame a a 4 out of 4 stars because it truly was a great read. The descriptive detail, character development and the events in the beginning set the story up perfectly for the story. I would recommend this story to readers of all genres because it does hold weight to how soldier’s in the past were treated or rather overlooked and how what goes on in the battle field can do to the mental state for those involved.

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