Chantel's Reviews > The House at Riverton

** spoiler alert ** It is important to note that the majority of the themes explored in this book deal with sensitive subject matters. My review, therefore, touches on these topics as well. Many people might find the subject matters of the book as well as those detailed in my review overwhelming. I would suggest you steer clear of both if this is the case. Please note that from this point forward I will be writing about matters which contain reflections on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), the consequences of war, Shell Shock, psychological distress, violence, financial insecurity, substance abuse, suicide, grief, & others.

There is something magical in voyaging through time via the story held in a book. When I first came across Morton’s writing it was by chance. Having wandered into a local bookshop one afternoon after work, I found myself drawn to “The Clockmaker’s Daughter” (2018). I have since read this very book twice & am making my way through all of Morton’s published work in anticipation of her April release. Because of fate—a stroke of luck—the tendency for my heart to be drawn to the promise of a marvellous story, I was lucky enough to find myself a lifetime love in everything that Morton has put on to the page.

When Grace Reeves was fourteen (14) she began working in service for the family who dawned the halls of the house on the hill; Riverton. Life for Grace was not easy as she maneuvered her way into a home full of inhabitants who were familiar with her mother, her life, & who felt no need to welcome her presence with kindness. The time she spent waging war against dust mites & saturated floorboards left her intimately acquainted with a lifestyle that was never to be her own. The period of time in which these parts transport the story is but one of two moments in which the reader becomes familiar with Grace.

During her recollections, Grace is seated sturdy in a chair, watched over by Sylvie, her caretaker. The days that once saw Grace roam on foot & attend to the needs of others have long since given way to the final grains of sand in the hourglass of her life; hardly able to escape if she tried. What makes Grace such a charming narrator & main character is her ability to welcome herself as she is into the truth that she knew. Never does Grace try & pretend that she is someone she is not. During her moments of remembered ignorance, poor choices, sadness, & anger, she transports the reader back in earnest for she feels no need to shade us from a sun that rises habitually.

Though this is my second time reading this book I find myself once again far too eager to simmer on the plot; rather disenchanted from the prospect of writing a review. This is always a peculiar feeling for me as I have always loved discussing what I have read. Yet, when I find myself at the end of a Morton-written story I find myself faced with the weight of realization. Therefore, before beginning my jaunt down a lane littered with rose petals & blooming dandelions, allow me a moment of pure praise for the author.

It is not easy to write a good story. Many cultures of people place different values on storytelling, my own people view the tradition as essential; delicate in its virtue & sublime in its vitality. Even knowing this, there are few people within the human species who have the knack required to transport the mind of the bipartisan. Certainly, one can swoop another person on a whim down a laneway riddled with dramatic twists & bludgeoning goons but, to allow a listener—a reader—to walk down a path on their own, guided solely by the words whispered through shadows…that is a skill unmatched. Morton has repeatedly showcased her ability to weave a tale bolder than the mountainside.

In every plot that Morton incites, she welcomes the reader to go through it alone; believing that every reader is equipped with enough courage, intellect, & heart to walk the road that will journey them through time, the lives of the unseen, & expose them to the treachery that exists in their communities snuggly between people like you & me. I appreciate this very much. I cannot say enough positive things about an author who works their skill. It is one thing to be insatiably talented, another ordeal entirely to know one’s own talent so well as to recognize how to shape it into a masterpiece. I hope all readers have the chance to come across books written by authors who care so very much about the work they are producing.

As Grace becomes accustomed to her life in the big house, the number of inhabitants grows. David, Hannah, & Emmeline arrive to spend time with their grandparents & delve into a world of adventures across the property. The Game, as Grace calls it, takes up the majority of their time. Each of the children dream of a world where they can be free; a person all to their own liberated from the society that trapped them into titles & behaviours. Though this particular aspect of the story does not necessarily reveal itself in any obvious sense, it might appear to the reader as though the children spend the entirety of their short lives chasing an imaginary image of life. This becomes a sadder point on which to reflect given David’s wistful choice to enlist in WWI & subsequently die on the field of battle in France.

While reading this story I found myself eager to correct certain actions or behaviours of the characters. Why did no one think that the war would be gruesome? Certainly, many other battles took place up until this point in time, yet many young people were eager to make a name for themselves in bloodshed. Why didn’t Frederick respond to his son while he was alive? How could a parent watch their child walk off to war & ignore their correspondence, with the heavy heart of someone who recognized the dual mistakes played by their persons? It is so easy to watch as a bystander & make judgment calls; I have the benefit of the safety of my home while reading this, and I am not called to the front.

Some people retain the naivety that war is a game. Certainly, egos alter the perspective of death & destruction. Children are enlisted as soldiers, young people are pawns in a darkened arena without a choice. I wish someone along the line might have stepped in, & revealed that death is never so far away as it appears; is a stranger in the night via the creaking floorboards of our houses & sneaks into our rooms through whistling winds cold from their long journey. We would, however, not have a story if someone had done this. We might even have a different life outside of fiction if representatives had cautioned of the world's evils. We cannot alter the past.

Because of this fact, we watch Hannah & Emmeline drift apart from the bond that they once held. Each sister began to grow in a direction that was representative of a desire misunderstood by the other. I found the way that Morton wrote about their relationship to be very honest & appropriate for the time period. Though one might note that both characters could have easily been women in a multitude of moments in time, they fit snuggly in the years in which this story takes place. The relationship & behaviour they exhibit with regard to themselves, each other, & those around them revealed a far larger picture than that which Morton paints.

The plight for freedom, regardless of the cost, takes centre stage in this plot. Our young & incredibly ignorant narrator wanders through life seeking a breach from the constraints of her own life. She no longer wants to be alone but cannot tie herself to any person who would bring her the heartfelt warmth she so desires. I suppose that growing up in the earlier years of the century did not help her quest to find fulfillment. She did not have the liberty of asking for help, of telling a friend she wished they were closer; of spreading her love for Alfred in any way other than in secret. Each other character seeks their own validation in a world that has set the stage for a play in which they hold no substantive roles.

How are any of these women meant to survive in a world where they are not wanted, not needed? They spend their lives on the wrong side of a swinging door waiting to be admitted into the room. I found this to be very sad to read. The conclusion of this book had me reflecting on all the ways in which the characters failed but also, the ways in which they failed themselves. Maybe things might have been different if Hannah & Emmeline had spoken. Maybe if no secrets were kept nothing would need to be kept hidden. Maybe if the world had allowed for the young sisters to be themselves in childhood they would not have felt so different from each other.

There is no way to know for certain that things would have changed if by a single alteration. Hannah was always ignorant of life. She never questioned whether or not Grace actually knew shorthand, she assumed. She never gave way to rhetoric when speaking to Grace because she retained her taught beliefs; Grace was a servant to the house. Regardless of how much progress each of the characters made, they remained stiff in their ways of ignorance. I suppose this is not so different from the non-fictional world which is what makes this story all the more devastating.

If I could revisit this story for the first time, I would. I will read this book again in a couple of years because I find the flow of reality intermingled with the fantastical events, a flash of honesty in a world of hidden secrets. I came upon the final scene this time around wishing that things would be different. Why did anyone need to die? Why is death the final straw for conflict? I do not have the answer to that, nor with regard to this story or in real life. What I do know is that this book brings out a habitual cycle of reflection for me. I cannot escape the desire to read Morton’s books a thousand times over for the flow of the reveal; the deceit, the honest truth of our entities. Our inability to be ourselves in a world that has sectioned us off to be fictional characters in a twilight zone of our dreams.