Overall though - and in spite of its careful research and fine writing - ‘The Whalebone Theatre’ is a long road of uneven and unnecessary length that eventually detracts from the whole. Destined to become a classic . . . Elegantly written and totally immersive, Quinn's debut is a wonder Daily Mail His presence in her life like a dog sleeping on the end of your bed: a loyalty so fond and constant, you only notice it on the rare occasions when you wake up and it’s gone, and then all you want to do is get up and find it, so you can go outside and play.

Far and away my favourite novel of the year . . . It’s a gorgeous book, following the lives of three half-siblings from the ‘20s and through World War II, the same canvas Kate Atkinson has used to such great effect. Love, grief, and comedy in perfect balance: it’s hard to believe that this accomplished novel comes from a first-timer.”Pas helemaal op het einde - na 500 bladzijden - heeft Quinn je hélemaal te pakken, maar dan is het helaas te laat. Reviewers might call this novel 'sweeping': the war-time postcards, letters and diaries are effective, intensely moving, as vigorous and energetic as Cristabel, Flossie, and Digby’s dialogue elsewhere, if not more forcefully so. They sail the reader through action at such a snappy pace. Maar om een of andere reden zakt het verhaal soms als borrelend en bubbelend walvisvlees in elkaar. Om dan weer op te veren en de lezer mee te sleuren in een kleurrijk spektakel van roaring interbellum-decadentie en adellijk hedonisme. The Whalebone Theatre is a grand story, sensitively told; Quinn is surely capable of so much more, if she can only bring herself to break a few more bones on her stage. You know, I've never taken to the idea that books can be too white, too middle-class and too, well, sort of First World Problem-y. This is the novel to convert many like me, however, and in throwing a historical light on a certain sort of problem, it's even further removed from life as we know it. The first chunk concerns Rosalind, a second and younger wife to a landed gent down in SW England; we discover he lost his first wife, to whom he was perfectly suited, in childbirth, and now, immediately post-World War One, with suitable men low on the ground, Rosalind has had to settle for the lumpen codger. She's there (a) to present him with an heir, if not a spare as well, which she will eventually – oh, how eventually – stumble her way to doing, and (b) for us to see that upper class, society women of the time had surprisingly little autonomy, freedom and self-awareness. Tell us something we didn't know, then.

Cristabel Seagrave and her half/step-siblings, Flossie and Digby, are largely left to bring themselves up during the inter-war years in a country house in Dorset. Tales of adventure fire their imagination, and when a whale is beached near their home, Cristabel claims it for herself and eventually converts its bones into an outdoor theatre. But as WWII approaches, it becomes clear that none of the trio is comfortable in their allocated role and that war might provide opportunities to forge new identities—as long as they can survive. Absolute aces…Quinn’s imagination and adventuresome spirit are a pleasure to behold.”— The New York TimesIf you love books with a strong sense of place, wonderful main characters (a cast of endearing siblings growing up in a large manor on the sea), echos of Joe March from Little Women, and a soothing ambience that makes you want to light candles and get under a 100 year old quilt, this book is for you. What’s remarkable, especially for a first novel, is Quinn’s deft way of depicting this lost world—whether a subsiding seaside aristocracy or a training school for British agents or a Parisian theater in wartime . . . Her vision is so fine and fully realized that it’s hard to imagine her doing anything else—and hard to have to wait to see what that might be.” — Washington Post

Joanna Quinn was born in London and grew up in Dorset, in the southwest of England, where her bestselling debut novel, The Whalebone Theatre, is set. Utterly heartbreaking and joyous . . . I just disappeared into The Whalebone Theatre and didn’t want to leave.” —Jo Baker, author of LongbournThere are moments when we get a glimpse of something more invigorating. Digby has a heart-to-heart with an officer who, after a pause, tells him: “I have a friend. A radio operator. He’s stationed up in Orkney. I miss him very much.” For a brief moment, a door opens and we get a spark of the electricity Sarah Waters generated in her wartime novel, The Night Watch. But here, Digby is flummoxed and Quinn lets the tension dissolve into nothing. Similarly, a certain tendresse between one of her characters and a German PoW echoes the febrile relationship in Irène Némirovsky’s Suite Française, but doesn’t attain its perilous intensity.

Love inspires art, but not only love. Art inspires art. Anger, hatred, hunger—these can also inspire. But whatever it is, however it comes, there always is the work. The work of art is never done. Even when my hands are empty, I am still painting.”It’s astonishing to discover that this beguiling story is Joanna Quinn’s first novel . . . If you loved Elizabeth Jane Howard’s Cazalet series and Dodie Smith’s I Capture the Castle you’ll absolutely adore this. It’s touching, enthralling, and superbly written—an extraordinary book that deserves to be read and re-read.” — Independent, #1 Best Overall of “10 Best Books to Read This Summer” In what ways does war, and generally the threat of death, create the conditions for love to blossom throughout the novel? Consider the relationships between Rosalind and Jasper (and Willoughby), Cristabel and Leon, Flossie and George, and Digby and Jean-Marc. Which of those pairs do you think would have been possible in other contexts? This is the story of an old English manor house by the sea, with crumbling chimneys, draping ivy and a library full of dusty books. It’s the story of the three children who grow up there, and the adventures