I felt bereft when I realised I’d read the last page of The Revelations of Carey Ravine. For a few moments, I refused to believe that it was over; I flipped frantically through the remaining blank pages, desperate, desiring, wishing for more.
This is a novel that will pull you into the exciting and dangerously-heady world of 1770s London, and take you on a fascinating and opportunistic journey through the seedy opulence of new money, old money, and no money. Daley has a sumptuous talent for drawing you in to a time when money is the only language worth talking; entry into the social elite is solely dependent on wealth and connections, and it doesn’t matter whether that wealth is real or perceived.
Carey Ravine and her husband, Oliver Nash, are desperate to be a part of the highest echelons of London society, and will do nothing, it seems, to be left out. Nash believes that their participation in regular late, drunken and debauched nights are necessary for making their way in the city.
However, Carey begins to realise that their quest for “being someone” is taking its toll on her emotionally, morally and physically, and when confronted by some difficult but believable truths about her husband and his dealings, she begins to question the life they are living.
Daley has created an ebullient cast of characters, each vivid and enthralling in their own ways. Nash is a loveable and charming rogue (until he isn’t); his wife attractive and lively, yet more intelligent and perceptive than others believe. The characters that circle around them are cleverly written and easy to like or not; the villains are easy to spot, yet there are moments where you question the motives of each and every one.
I thoroughly enjoyed The Revelations of Carey Ravine, and while I was sad when I realise I’d finished, it ended beautifully, and that softened the blow.
Thank you to the team at Hachette New Zealand for my review copy; you can buy your own here!