grown up writing about pregnancy, 11 Feb 2003
If you're sick of being faced with a choice of textbook, magazine or comic look at pregnancy and want something which goes a bit deeper, this is the book for you. I'm rationing myself to a couple of the stories a day, but could quite easily devour it in one sitting. One of the best things about this book is how contemporary it is. For someone like me whose friends are still mostly childless, it's replaced the sort of conversations I think I would have had with them. The other aspect about the book which I particularly like is the variety - it's comforting to hear how different people are and it reminds me that I don't have to conform to any stereotype.

A breath of fresh air, 15 Aug 2002
As the editors of this book rightly say, when you are pregnant you become obsessed with reading anything and everything about conception, preganacy and childbirth. This is a wonderful anthology of beautifully written, moving pieces. Peter Carey's description of his son's birth is wonderful and joyous, and the extract from Roddy Doyle's book is hilarious - but there are some poignant moments too. That's what makes this book work - it is a balanced picture - the miracles are offset by the tragedies, and for every earth mother described, there is the one who feels all at sea with the whole thing.

It's a great book to dip into when you feel like a "fix" of baby talk - and to get a sense of the real human experience involved in conceiving, bearing and birthing children.

grown up writing about pregnancy, 11 Feb 2003
If you're sick of being faced with a choice of textbook, magazine or comic look at pregnancy and want something which goes a bit deeper, this is the book for you. I'm rationing myself to a couple of the stories a day, but could quite easily devour it in one sitting. One of the best things about this book is how contemporary it is. For someone like me whose friends are still mostly childless, it's replaced the sort of conversations I think I would have had with them. The other aspect about the book which I particularly like is the variety - it's comforting to hear how different people are and it reminds me that I don't have to conform to any stereotype.

A breath of fresh air, 15 Aug 2002
As the editors of this book rightly say, when you are pregnant you become obsessed with reading anything and everything about conception, preganacy and childbirth. This is a wonderful anthology of beautifully written, moving pieces. Peter Carey's description of his son's birth is wonderful and joyous, and the extract from Roddy Doyle's book is hilarious - but there are some poignant moments too. That's what makes this book work - it is a balanced picture - the miracles are offset by the tragedies, and for every earth mother described, there is the one who feels all at sea with the whole thing.

It's a great book to dip into when you feel like a "fix" of baby talk - and to get a sense of the real human experience involved in conceiving, bearing and birthing children.

A stunning book - buy it now !, 23 Mar 2006
I have read Jills books with interest as she was a local girl made good. I have always enjoyed her unique writing style but this one really blew me away. What struck me was the writing is so beautifully poetic, pure silk. This book touched me on a much deeper level as I am the Mum of a two gorgeous boys age 7 and 9.
The eldest happens to be Autistic, the youngest not without difficuties. Wild boy is sensitive, well researched and heart wrenching. The details regarding the nature of Autism are striking in their accuracy, but unfortunately it brings home how much futher we still have to go in our journey of learning.

The Book I Wish I'd Written, 20 Jul 2005
I must confess that the only reason I bought this book was that I met Jill Dawson as a literary festival and was curious to match the writing to the person. I'm sooo glad I did. What can I say - this book blew me away.

Dawson's writing is outstanding. The plot of this book is gripping to say the least (albeit Dawson drew from an actual historical occurance), and her characterisation is just wonderful. I can't understand why this author has not yet become a household name - she thoroughly deserves to be a permament fixture in our bestsellers list. This shares joint first place for me in the books I read in 2004. The other was 'Middlesex', so you get the idea of the quality of Dawson's writing.

Buy it, turn off the phone, find your comfiest armchair and prepare not to move until you've finished. A masterpiece.

A wonderful writer, 10 Feb 2005
Jill Dawson is simply marvelous. I loved Fred and Edie, and here, she has once again taken an actual occurrence and imagined what really happened. The characters are well-rounded and, even though many readers will already know what actually happened to the real Enfant Suavage, their interest won't flag, as it is the other, partly invented characters we care about as well. Add to this a beautiful use of language, and it's a winner.

a remarkable, absorbing novel - recommended, 20 Nov 2003
This is one of two novels that have given me great pleasure in 2003 - oddly both about autism (the other being Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time). Why are we all so fascinated by this mysterious affliction? Haddon's hero has the milder form of Asperger's, which allows a kind of brilliance to shine through (the sort Hollywood likes) but Dawson's Victor is severely handicapped.

Found in the wild woods of post-Revolutionary France, he is brought to Paris to be studied by the (relatively) enlightened Dr. Itard. Rousseau's theories on the noble savage make Victor fashionable, and Itard struggles to impart language and clean behaviour. Unable to understand why the reflections on water are more fascinating to Victor than a society beauty, he fails; it's the other narrator, Madame Guerin, and her daughter, who comes closest to forming a relationship. Earthy, sensible and hard-working, Madame Guerin herself has probably had an autistic boy (though she believes he was a "changeling")of her own, who became a victim of the Terror. How did Victor survive for so long? He was discovered with the scar of a great wound across his neck, and towards the end the author lets us into his past, and a story as cruel as that of Hansel & Gretel.
The thoughts and voice of each protagonist are wonderfully distinct, believeable and engaging. What prevents this novel from being a really major work of literature is that Dawson sticks too faithfully to the real-life story her novel is based on. The historical linking of Victor's autism with the beliefs of post-Revolutionary France are brilliantly done, but for me where it really takes off is in the fairy-tale parallels. That said, it's head and shoulders above most of this year's fiction.

For those born more tame, 26 Sep 2003
I have often wondered what is to become of Benjamin. He is nine years old, has toffee-coloured curls and blue wide eyes, if you glance very quickly you would say he was just another handsome child, but if you allow your eye to rest a little longer you will see very soon that there is something wrong. Benjamin is very badly autistic. This is not the autism of Hollywood films: not a child that adds up long series of numbers in his head, or draws detailed pictures from memory, or makes up fine words or stories, Benjamin is like the WILD BOY in Jill Dawson's book, he says very few words, he does not look you in the eye, he is sometimes uncontrollable, and yet heis very much loved. And.I think that Benjamin loves too, although, of course, it is impossible to be sure.

Victor, the autisitc child in the WILD BOY, is found in a village called St Sernin in early nineteenth century France, a country that is just recovering from the Great Terror of the French revolution, and the sense of this provides a powerful background to the narrative. The barbarity of the time vindicates the small acts of violence that come to permeate the story in surprising ways. Victor, it is thought, has been brought up by the wolves. There are stories of his being suckled by them, of his living with them, almost becoming one of them, but then he is spied in a village, captured and then sent to the institute for the deaf in Paris. Here he is a celebrity, Pinel, the great liberating psychiatrist, declares him to be an idiot but a young doctor Itard views the child as an 'extraordinary opportunity that has walked out of the forest and into my life': he is determined that he will teach Victor to talk.

The narrative is told in three voices: the rather starchy but in the end fascinating one of doctor Itard, who is the type of person who tells you all the world as he sees it whether you want him to or not; the sensuous, warm and earthy voice of Madame Guerin, who is a wonderful contrast to the doctor and immediately arouses sympathy; and then, at the end of each part, an omniscient narrator giving chilling flashbacks of the early part of Victor's life. Each voice is utterly convincing. They are undivided on the page except by a single line gap and it is an indication of the quality of the writing that this is quite enough. The voices are so different there is never any confusion.

Gradually Victor is tamed by the care of these two different people. The story is clear, sound, realistic, the miracles are small and believable. The autistic behaviour is very well-observed and the depth of research obvious. There are moments that catch you without warning with their poignancy, and there are revelations that are unexpected and carry you absorbedly along. It describes humanity at its worst and yet it never feels bleak or desperate. At the end of WILD BOY I felt I understood a little more of what it must be like to be like Victor or Benjamin and it is not as hopeless and frustrating as I thought. There are moments of pleasure and understanding, which makes me realise that the future for Benjamin could be, as it was for Victor, just as rewarding as it is for those of us born more tame.

grown up writing about pregnancy, 11 Feb 2003
If you're sick of being faced with a choice of textbook, magazine or comic look at pregnancy and want something which goes a bit deeper, this is the book for you. I'm rationing myself to a couple of the stories a day, but could quite easily devour it in one sitting. One of the best things about this book is how contemporary it is. For someone like me whose friends are still mostly childless, it's replaced the sort of conversations I think I would have had with them. The other aspect about the book which I particularly like is the variety - it's comforting to hear how different people are and it reminds me that I don't have to conform to any stereotype.

A breath of fresh air, 15 Aug 2002
As the editors of this book rightly say, when you are pregnant you become obsessed with reading anything and everything about conception, preganacy and childbirth. This is a wonderful anthology of beautifully written, moving pieces. Peter Carey's description of his son's birth is wonderful and joyous, and the extract from Roddy Doyle's book is hilarious - but there are some poignant moments too. That's what makes this book work - it is a balanced picture - the miracles are offset by the tragedies, and for every earth mother described, there is the one who feels all at sea with the whole thing.

It's a great book to dip into when you feel like a "fix" of baby talk - and to get a sense of the real human experience involved in conceiving, bearing and birthing children.

A stunning book - buy it now !, 23 Mar 2006
I have read Jills books with interest as she was a local girl made good. I have always enjoyed her unique writing style but this one really blew me away. What struck me was the writing is so beautifully poetic, pure silk. This book touched me on a much deeper level as I am the Mum of a two gorgeous boys age 7 and 9.
The eldest happens to be Autistic, the youngest not without difficuties. Wild boy is sensitive, well researched and heart wrenching. The details regarding the nature of Autism are striking in their accuracy, but unfortunately it brings home how much futher we still have to go in our journey of learning.

The Book I Wish I'd Written, 20 Jul 2005
I must confess that the only reason I bought this book was that I met Jill Dawson as a literary festival and was curious to match the writing to the person. I'm sooo glad I did. What can I say - this book blew me away.

Dawson's writing is outstanding. The plot of this book is gripping to say the least (albeit Dawson drew from an actual historical occurance), and her characterisation is just wonderful. I can't understand why this author has not yet become a household name - she thoroughly deserves to be a permament fixture in our bestsellers list. This shares joint first place for me in the books I read in 2004. The other was 'Middlesex', so you get the idea of the quality of Dawson's writing.

Buy it, turn off the phone, find your comfiest armchair and prepare not to move until you've finished. A masterpiece.

A wonderful writer, 10 Feb 2005
Jill Dawson is simply marvelous. I loved Fred and Edie, and here, she has once again taken an actual occurrence and imagined what really happened. The characters are well-rounded and, even though many readers will already know what actually happened to the real Enfant Suavage, their interest won't flag, as it is the other, partly invented characters we care about as well. Add to this a beautiful use of language, and it's a winner.

a remarkable, absorbing novel - recommended, 20 Nov 2003
This is one of two novels that have given me great pleasure in 2003 - oddly both about autism (the other being Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time). Why are we all so fascinated by this mysterious affliction? Haddon's hero has the milder form of Asperger's, which allows a kind of brilliance to shine through (the sort Hollywood likes) but Dawson's Victor is severely handicapped.

Found in the wild woods of post-Revolutionary France, he is brought to Paris to be studied by the (relatively) enlightened Dr. Itard. Rousseau's theories on the noble savage make Victor fashionable, and Itard struggles to impart language and clean behaviour. Unable to understand why the reflections on water are more fascinating to Victor than a society beauty, he fails; it's the other narrator, Madame Guerin, and her daughter, who comes closest to forming a relationship. Earthy, sensible and hard-working, Madame Guerin herself has probably had an autistic boy (though she believes he was a "changeling")of her own, who became a victim of the Terror. How did Victor survive for so long? He was discovered with the scar of a great wound across his neck, and towards the end the author lets us into his past, and a story as cruel as that of Hansel & Gretel.
The thoughts and voice of each protagonist are wonderfully distinct, believeable and engaging. What prevents this novel from being a really major work of literature is that Dawson sticks too faithfully to the real-life story her novel is based on. The historical linking of Victor's autism with the beliefs of post-Revolutionary France are brilliantly done, but for me where it really takes off is in the fairy-tale parallels. That said, it's head and shoulders above most of this year's fiction.

For those born more tame, 26 Sep 2003
I have often wondered what is to become of Benjamin. He is nine years old, has toffee-coloured curls and blue wide eyes, if you glance very quickly you would say he was just another handsome child, but if you allow your eye to rest a little longer you will see very soon that there is something wrong. Benjamin is very badly autistic. This is not the autism of Hollywood films: not a child that adds up long series of numbers in his head, or draws detailed pictures from memory, or makes up fine words or stories, Benjamin is like the WILD BOY in Jill Dawson's book, he says very few words, he does not look you in the eye, he is sometimes uncontrollable, and yet heis very much loved. And.I think that Benjamin loves too, although, of course, it is impossible to be sure.

Victor, the autisitc child in the WILD BOY, is found in a village called St Sernin in early nineteenth century France, a country that is just recovering from the Great Terror of the French revolution, and the sense of this provides a powerful background to the narrative. The barbarity of the time vindicates the small acts of violence that come to permeate the story in surprising ways. Victor, it is thought, has been brought up by the wolves. There are stories of his being suckled by them, of his living with them, almost becoming one of them, but then he is spied in a village, captured and then sent to the institute for the deaf in Paris. Here he is a celebrity, Pinel, the great liberating psychiatrist, declares him to be an idiot but a young doctor Itard views the child as an 'extraordinary opportunity that has walked out of the forest and into my life': he is determined that he will teach Victor to talk.

The narrative is told in three voices: the rather starchy but in the end fascinating one of doctor Itard, who is the type of person who tells you all the world as he sees it whether you want him to or not; the sensuous, warm and earthy voice of Madame Guerin, who is a wonderful contrast to the doctor and immediately arouses sympathy; and then, at the end of each part, an omniscient narrator giving chilling flashbacks of the early part of Victor's life. Each voice is utterly convincing. They are undivided on the page except by a single line gap and it is an indication of the quality of the writing that this is quite enough. The voices are so different there is never any confusion.

Gradually Victor is tamed by the care of these two different people. The story is clear, sound, realistic, the miracles are small and believable. The autistic behaviour is very well-observed and the depth of research obvious. There are moments that catch you without warning with their poignancy, and there are revelations that are unexpected and carry you absorbedly along. It describes humanity at its worst and yet it never feels bleak or desperate. At the end of WILD BOY I felt I understood a little more of what it must be like to be like Victor or Benjamin and it is not as hopeless and frustrating as I thought. There are moments of pleasure and understanding, which makes me realise that the future for Benjamin could be, as it was for Victor, just as rewarding as it is for those of us born more tame.

Seahorses and childhood, 28 May 2008
There are so many books out now about those left behind when children disappear and sadly I felt that this book did not provide enough beautiful prose, believable well formed characters or any suspense. The "I" character is clearly well educated as an academic expert in seahorses and yet her tale is not told in an adequately insightful way. I would only recommend this book to those who are interested in marine life or small town/countryside childhoods.

Watch Me Disappear, 04 May 2008
A difficult subject, sensitively handled alongside a vivid description of growing up in the seventies. Overall a good book, but for some reason, I don't feel my usual need to immediately seek out the author's back catalogue.

Accomplished novel if sometimes uncomfortable reading, 25 Mar 2008
Watch Me Disappear by Jill Dawson came to my attention via a review by John Self. While I was vaguey aware of her through her novel Fred & Edie, the striking cover of which regularly used to catch my eye in my previous existence as a bookseller, I had never gone as far as to pick up any of her books. Now that I think of it, I have no idea why, and what a shame because Watch Me Disappear is a fine book indeed.

The novel follows Tina Humber who returns to the Cambridgeshire village she grew up in for a family wedding, and so confronts the memories of her childhood friend Mandy, who disappeared when she was 10. (An aside: another book about girls going missing? How odd. I didn't notice until now.) It's a long time since Tina has been in England - she now has a career researching seahorses in the US, where she also has a husband, and a child the same age as Mandy was when she went missing. Long-buried memories start popping up unbidden, and soon Tina realises she knows exactly what happened to her friend, and perhaps always has.

This book is a real slow-burner. I don't mind admitting that at first, when I started reading it, I was inwardly debating whether to put it straight back down again. Not that there was anything bad about the book, it just wasn't grabbing me. Soon, though, it got somewhat under my skin and I couldn't put it down even if I tried (a cliche, but true). The slow-build, now that I have finished it, is actually perfect for the story. If everything moved at top speed then the narrative would undoutedly lose that magic ingerdient that makes Watch Me Disappear so compelling. Not only is it compelling, but it is also brave - not many writers could handle a subject as thorny as the innocent sexuality of young girls without it smacking of sensationalism or being a touch tawdry but Dawson pulls it off without question. A mark of a talented writer and no mistake.

At times it is an uncomfortable read, not least when the image of Holly and Jessica, the two Soham schoolgirls brutally murdered a few years go, is invoked on one or two occasions. The invocation works here, but again it is easy to see that it could so easily have gone completely wrong if Dawson hadn't been in full control of her subject. This book perhaps isn't for the faint-hearted, but my, you'd be missing out.


What do I remember?, 18 Aug 2007
I had preconceived ideas about the content of this novel and the type of direction the story would take. I expected a journey into the past for the narrator, with some kind of resolution regarding the disappearance of her best friend when they were both ten. As I read I realised that the novel was in fact concerned with more complex issues, such as how memories are formed, how far we can trust our memories and how can we be sure that what we remember is the sum of what actually happened. The narration is from the perspective of the main character and it is only through her reported conversations with others that we catch a glimpse of memories other than hers, which hint at other "truths" that could, if we only had access to them, shed some light on the story being told. The novel, in part, recreates childhood in the early seventies (which was very nostalgic for me). It is the way in which memory is explored, however, that truly resonates. The hints of damage done by unstated (possible) abuse and the tenuous connections between memory, medical condition, medication and denial are all below the surface. I've continued to think about different aspects of this book since reading it and it has been some time since I have read anything that is so understated and yet so thought provoking. I would recommend it very highly as a beautifully written book, which maintains its complex structure very well and creates, in its narrator, a vulnerable and fascinating character.

"This is the moment Mandy Baker reappears.", 01 Apr 2007
This book is written in a lush, addictive way that leaves a strong imprint in the mind. At first I thought that it was lots of quirky thoughts compiled together, so that none of it was relevant or important, but then I realised that it was the profanity of the quotes and the distance between each thought that made them so relevant. Gripping story, takes a bit of time to get used to the literary style but once it has been read it sticks. Dark, mysterious, but not in an obvious way - since most of the story is shaded with innocent recollections of summertime and childhood. Compelling and subtle.

In the winter of 1922 Edith Waters and her younger lover, Freddy Bywaters, were found guilty of murdering Percy Waters, Edith's boorish husband. The two lovers were executed in a whirl of publicity in 1923. The case caused a sensation, a crime of passion that gripped the nation's imagination and became the raw material for Jill Dawson's sensual and captivating novel Fred and Edie, a fictional account of the lovers' romance and their subsequent trial, predominantly told through Edie's imaginary letters addressed to her lover, "Darlint Freddie". This is a remarkable novel, that brilliantly evokes the suburban world of 1920s London (T.S. Eliot's The Waste Land, published the same year as the trial, runs like a leitmotif throughout the novel). Edie, viewed from the public gallery as "silly, vain" is a superb literary creation--sensual, intelligent, articulate and liberated, bitterly denouncing in her letters to Freddy a world that denies "that our love might be a real love, on a par with other great loves. That just because you are from Norwood and work as a ship's laundry man and I grew up in Stamford Hill and read a certain kind of novel, we are not capable of true emotions, of having feelings and experiences that matter".

Dawson's novel gradually reveals that Edie's "crime" is actually her articulate, contradictory and assertive femininity. "I am not all sweetness and light" she insists, but it is her independent behaviour that ultimately stands trial, as Freddy becomes an increasingly enigmatic and questionable figure on the margins of the novel. Elegantly written and carefully researched, Fred and Edie is as passionate and assured as the tragic heroine it portrays. --Jerry Brotton

grown up writing about pregnancy, 11 Feb 2003
If you're sick of being faced with a choice of textbook, magazine or comic look at pregnancy and want something which goes a bit deeper, this is the book for you. I'm rationing myself to a couple of the stories a day, but could quite easily devour it in one sitting. One of the best things about this book is how contemporary it is. For someone like me whose friends are still mostly childless, it's replaced the sort of conversations I think I would have had with them. The other aspect about the book which I particularly like is the variety - it's comforting to hear how different people are and it reminds me that I don't have to conform to any stereotype.

A breath of fresh air, 15 Aug 2002
As the editors of this book rightly say, when you are pregnant you become obsessed with reading anything and everything about conception, preganacy and childbirth. This is a wonderful anthology of beautifully written, moving pieces. Peter Carey's description of his son's birth is wonderful and joyous, and the extract from Roddy Doyle's book is hilarious - but there are some poignant moments too. That's what makes this book work - it is a balanced picture - the miracles are offset by the tragedies, and for every earth mother described, there is the one who feels all at sea with the whole thing.

It's a great book to dip into when you feel like a "fix" of baby talk - and to get a sense of the real human experience involved in conceiving, bearing and birthing children.

A stunning book - buy it now !, 23 Mar 2006
I have read Jills books with interest as she was a local girl made good. I have always enjoyed her unique writing style but this one really blew me away. What struck me was the writing is so beautifully poetic, pure silk. This book touched me on a much deeper level as I am the Mum of a two gorgeous boys age 7 and 9.
The eldest happens to be Autistic, the youngest not without difficuties. Wild boy is sensitive, well researched and heart wrenching. The details regarding the nature of Autism are striking in their accuracy, but unfortunately it brings home how much futher we still have to go in our journey of learning.

The Book I Wish I'd Written, 20 Jul 2005
I must confess that the only reason I bought this book was that I met Jill Dawson as a literary festival and was curious to match the writing to the person. I'm sooo glad I did. What can I say - this book blew me away.

Dawson's writing is outstanding. The plot of this book is gripping to say the least (albeit Dawson drew from an actual historical occurance), and her characterisation is just wonderful. I can't understand why this author has not yet become a household name - she thoroughly deserves to be a permament fixture in our bestsellers list. This shares joint first place for me in the books I read in 2004. The other was 'Middlesex', so you get the idea of the quality of Dawson's writing.

Buy it, turn off the phone, find your comfiest armchair and prepare not to move until you've finished. A masterpiece.

A wonderful writer, 10 Feb 2005
Jill Dawson is simply marvelous. I loved Fred and Edie, and here, she has once again taken an actual occurrence and imagined what really happened. The characters are well-rounded and, even though many readers will already know what actually happened to the real Enfant Suavage, their interest won't flag, as it is the other, partly invented characters we care about as well. Add to this a beautiful use of language, and it's a winner.

a remarkable, absorbing novel - recommended, 20 Nov 2003
This is one of two novels that have given me great pleasure in 2003 - oddly both about autism (the other being Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time). Why are we all so fascinated by this mysterious affliction? Haddon's hero has the milder form of Asperger's, which allows a kind of brilliance to shine through (the sort Hollywood likes) but Dawson's Victor is severely handicapped.

Found in the wild woods of post-Revolutionary France, he is brought to Paris to be studied by the (relatively) enlightened Dr. Itard. Rousseau's theories on the noble savage make Victor fashionable, and Itard struggles to impart language and clean behaviour. Unable to understand why the reflections on water are more fascinating to Victor than a society beauty, he fails; it's the other narrator, Madame Guerin, and her daughter, who comes closest to forming a relationship. Earthy, sensible and hard-working, Madame Guerin herself has probably had an autistic boy (though she believes he was a "changeling")of her own, who became a victim of the Terror. How did Victor survive for so long? He was discovered with the scar of a great wound across his neck, and towards the end the author lets us into his past, and a story as cruel as that of Hansel & Gretel.
The thoughts and voice of each protagonist are wonderfully distinct, believeable and engaging. What prevents this novel from being a really major work of literature is that Dawson sticks too faithfully to the real-life story her novel is based on. The historical linking of Victor's autism with the beliefs of post-Revolutionary France are brilliantly done, but for me where it really takes off is in the fairy-tale parallels. That said, it's head and shoulders above most of this year's fiction.

For those born more tame, 26 Sep 2003
I have often wondered what is to become of Benjamin. He is nine years old, has toffee-coloured curls and blue wide eyes, if you glance very quickly you would say he was just another handsome child, but if you allow your eye to rest a little longer you will see very soon that there is something wrong. Benjamin is very badly autistic. This is not the autism of Hollywood films: not a child that adds up long series of numbers in his head, or draws detailed pictures from memory, or makes up fine words or stories, Benjamin is like the WILD BOY in Jill Dawson's book, he says very few words, he does not look you in the eye, he is sometimes uncontrollable, and yet heis very much loved. And.I think that Benjamin loves too, although, of course, it is impossible to be sure.

Victor, the autisitc child in the WILD BOY, is found in a village called St Sernin in early nineteenth century France, a country that is just recovering from the Great Terror of the French revolution, and the sense of this provides a powerful background to the narrative. The barbarity of the time vindicates the small acts of violence that come to permeate the story in surprising ways. Victor, it is thought, has been brought up by the wolves. There are stories of his being suckled by them, of his living with them, almost becoming one of them, but then he is spied in a village, captured and then sent to the institute for the deaf in Paris. Here he is a celebrity, Pinel, the great liberating psychiatrist, declares him to be an idiot but a young doctor Itard views the child as an 'extraordinary opportunity that has walked out of the forest and into my life': he is determined that he will teach Victor to talk.

The narrative is told in three voices: the rather starchy but in the end fascinating one of doctor Itard, who is the type of person who tells you all the world as he sees it whether you want him to or not; the sensuous, warm and earthy voice of Madame Guerin, who is a wonderful contrast to the doctor and immediately arouses sympathy; and then, at the end of each part, an omniscient narrator giving chilling flashbacks of the early part of Victor's life. Each voice is utterly convincing. They are undivided on the page except by a single line gap and it is an indication of the quality of the writing that this is quite enough. The voices are so different there is never any confusion.

Gradually Victor is tamed by the care of these two different people. The story is clear, sound, realistic, the miracles are small and believable. The autistic behaviour is very well-observed and the depth of research obvious. There are moments that catch you without warning with their poignancy, and there are revelations that are unexpected and carry you absorbedly along. It describes humanity at its worst and yet it never feels bleak or desperate. At the end of WILD BOY I felt I understood a little more of what it must be like to be like Victor or Benjamin and it is not as hopeless and frustrating as I thought. There are moments of pleasure and understanding, which makes me realise that the future for Benjamin could be, as it was for Victor, just as rewarding as it is for those of us born more tame.

Seahorses and childhood, 28 May 2008
There are so many books out now about those left behind when children disappear and sadly I felt that this book did not provide enough beautiful prose, believable well formed characters or any suspense. The "I" character is clearly well educated as an academic expert in seahorses and yet her tale is not told in an adequately insightful way. I would only recommend this book to those who are interested in marine life or small town/countryside childhoods.

Watch Me Disappear, 04 May 2008
A difficult subject, sensitively handled alongside a vivid description of growing up in the seventies. Overall a good book, but for some reason, I don't feel my usual need to immediately seek out the author's back catalogue.

Accomplished novel if sometimes uncomfortable reading, 25 Mar 2008
Watch Me Disappear by Jill Dawson came to my attention via a review by John Self. While I was vaguey aware of her through her novel Fred & Edie, the striking cover of which regularly used to catch my eye in my previous existence as a bookseller, I had never gone as far as to pick up any of her books. Now that I think of it, I have no idea why, and what a shame because Watch Me Disappear is a fine book indeed.

The novel follows Tina Humber who returns to the Cambridgeshire village she grew up in for a family wedding, and so confronts the memories of her childhood friend Mandy, who disappeared when she was 10. (An aside: another book about girls going missing? How odd. I didn't notice until now.) It's a long time since Tina has been in England - she now has a career researching seahorses in the US, where she also has a husband, and a child the same age as Mandy was when she went missing. Long-buried memories start popping up unbidden, and soon Tina realises she knows exactly what happened to her friend, and perhaps always has.

This book is a real slow-burner. I don't mind admitting that at first, when I started reading it, I was inwardly debating whether to put it straight back down again. Not that there was anything bad about the book, it just wasn't grabbing me. Soon, though, it got somewhat under my skin and I couldn't put it down even if I tried (a cliche, but true). The slow-build, now that I have finished it, is actually perfect for the story. If everything moved at top speed then the narrative would undoutedly lose that magic ingerdient that makes Watch Me Disappear so compelling. Not only is it compelling, but it is also brave - not many writers could handle a subject as thorny as the innocent sexuality of young girls without it smacking of sensationalism or being a touch tawdry but Dawson pulls it off without question. A mark of a talented writer and no mistake.

At times it is an uncomfortable read, not least when the image of Holly and Jessica, the two Soham schoolgirls brutally murdered a few years go, is invoked on one or two occasions. The invocation works here, but again it is easy to see that it could so easily have gone completely wrong if Dawson hadn't been in full control of her subject. This book perhaps isn't for the faint-hearted, but my, you'd be missing out.


What do I remember?, 18 Aug 2007
I had preconceived ideas about the content of this novel and the type of direction the story would take. I expected a journey into the past for the narrator, with some kind of resolution regarding the disappearance of her best friend when they were both ten. As I read I realised that the novel was in fact concerned with more complex issues, such as how memories are formed, how far we can trust our memories and how can we be sure that what we remember is the sum of what actually happened. The narration is from the perspective of the main character and it is only through her reported conversations with others that we catch a glimpse of memories other than hers, which hint at other "truths" that could, if we only had access to them, shed some light on the story being told. The novel, in part, recreates childhood in the early seventies (which was very nostalgic for me). It is the way in which memory is explored, however, that truly resonates. The hints of damage done by unstated (possible) abuse and the tenuous connections between memory, medical condition, medication and denial are all below the surface. I've continued to think about different aspects of this book since reading it and it has been some time since I have read anything that is so understated and yet so thought provoking. I would recommend it very highly as a beautifully written book, which maintains its complex structure very well and creates, in its narrator, a vulnerable and fascinating character.

"This is the moment Mandy Baker reappears.", 01 Apr 2007
This book is written in a lush, addictive way that leaves a strong imprint in the mind. At first I thought that it was lots of quirky thoughts compiled together, so that none of it was relevant or important, but then I realised that it was the profanity of the quotes and the distance between each thought that made them so relevant. Gripping story, takes a bit of time to get used to the literary style but once it has been read it sticks. Dark, mysterious, but not in an obvious way - since most of the story is shaded with innocent recollections of summertime and childhood. Compelling and subtle.

Poignant, gripping and sad, 08 May 2008
From the moment you start to read Edie's letters from prison to her lover Fred (who has murdered her husband), there's a dreadful feeling that she's not going to have the happy ending she keeps predicting. The way Edie constantly forgives her young lover for his crime combined with her gentle tellings-off, are incredibly poignant. Fred is very young and there is a sense that he does not understand how marriages work or what Edie really wanted. All this is very cleverly conveyed via Edie's letters.

I absolutely loved this book, it's beautifully written and I was captivated by Edie and Fred and their love affair from the beginning to the tragic, but inevitable end. It prompted me to research the real story of Edith Thompson and Fred Bywaters and in this case truth really is stranger and even more sad than fiction. The only reason I didn't give the book five stars is that in real life Fred was incredibly loyal to Edie, and a victim of her fantasies, whereas in the book you get the impression that he was a bit weak and selfish and I don't think he deserves that.

A book that tells the tragic story of Edith Thompson, 08 Aug 2007
I read this book after reading "A pin to see the peepshow" which was written in 1934. Jill Dawson uses extracts from newspaper articles from the trial in 1922, after the murder of Edith Thompson's husband by her lover Frederick Bywaters. This book is beautifully written and I felt that Edie really came to life on the page; she was a vain and passionate woman who escaped from her humdrum marriage by reading romantic fiction and writing dramatic letters to her lover, Bywaters, whilst he was away at sea. Did Edie tempt her much younger lover to commit murder ? The judge and jury certainly thought so and she, along with Bywaters was condemned to death. Her execution was horrific and stories of her being pregnant and her 'insides falling out' started immediately. Jill Dawson's book is a joy and I recommend to anyone that loves a love story, or has an interest in social history.

Wonderfully written..., 01 Apr 2007
I loved this novel. I read it over a weekend and literally could not put it down. The overwhelming emotion I was left with was sadness; while awaiting trial, Edie is adamantly buoyant and completely in denial, both in terms of her actions and her fate. Admittedly, I had not heard of this very famous trial, but the words of Jill Dawson have certainly brought it to life for me.
I loved the format - letters can be so incredibly intimate and they give a fantastic insight into Edie's state of mind as she slowly declines. Though they commited a heinous crime, I found myself feeling incredibly sorry for them both -
A tradegy in its truest form.

Hard work!, 02 Sep 2006
I bought this book purely because of the beautiful cover and the fact that it was set in an area of London that I know well. (What do they say about never judging a book by it's cover??)

The book is about the famous Thompson and Bywaters murder trial from the 1920's. Edith Thompson and Fred Bywaters had an affair and were then found guilty of conspiring to murder Edie's husband, Percy. This is made clear from the beginning, so won't ruin any of the plot for you.

I have to say that I only managed to finish this book because I was really determined. None of the characters are even remotely likeable, whilst the story is thin, predictable and repeatitive. Despite the fact that most of the book is written in tedious letters written by Edie to Fred whilst she is in Holloway prison, there is little psychological insight into if and why they did actualy conspire to murder her husband.

Considering this is London in the 1920's, there is little sense of time or place and I was left with the feeling that these events could have taken place anywhere at any time during the first half of the twentieth century. Small concessions are made with a very brief mention of T S Eliot and the fact that Edie has buttons on the sides of her pants.

It will be a while before I buy another book becasue I like the cover design. Vapid and hard work, one to avoid.

As Pretty And Vapid As It's Cover, 11 Apr 2006
I must admit that I picked this book up because of it's gorgeous front cover, but after reading the blurb I was expecting a hard-hitting and poignant novel that would have a lot to say both about the death penalty and the suppression of women in the early 20th century. What I got instead was a shallow book: one that suffered from a lack of likeable or sympathetic characters and little to no actual plot.

If the author intended Edie to come across as a strong women led astray by love and condemned by a misogynic society, then, at least in my opinion, she failed miserably. Edie is indeed a 'silly and vain' woman- although she spends most of the novel insisting that she is full of passion and a longing for independence, her actions do not give the reader any evidence of this. She may indeed have earnt more than her husband (something which she mentions incessantly throughout her flashbacks) and know a lot about fashion, but Edie is not a strong character. She spends the entire novel moping after Freddy, not allowing herelf (and thus by extension the reader) to think about anything else, something which quickly becomes boring, and issues which could have been interesting - abortion, the death penalty, the fear that men have of women's bodies - became boring and predictable as she repeated the same opinion over and over again.

This novel suffers from it's first person perspective- perhaps the reader would feel more sympathy for the couple if we were ever given any indication that Freddy cared about Edie or the fact that she is going to be hanged for his crime. There is also little character development- Edie ends the novel as lovesick and unquestioning of Freddy as she ever was, and it is quite disturbing how she suspects that she is pregnant, but allows herself to be hanged through sheer apathy.

I found myself longing, at the end of novel, to know the true story of Edie, simply because I refused to believe that the death of such a vapid woman could ever have inspired the public outcry that it does in this novel.

grown up writing about pregnancy, 11 Feb 2003
If you're sick of being faced with a choice of textbook, magazine or comic look at pregnancy and want something which goes a bit deeper, this is the book for you. I'm rationing myself to a couple of the stories a day, but could quite easily devour it in one sitting. One of the best things about this book is how contemporary it is. For someone like me whose friends are still mostly childless, it's replaced the sort of conversations I think I would have had with them. The other aspect about the book which I particularly like is the variety - it's comforting to hear how different people are and it reminds me that I don't have to conform to any stereotype.

A breath of fresh air, 15 Aug 2002
As the editors of this book rightly say, when you are pregnant you become obsessed with reading anything and everything about conception, preganacy and childbirth. This is a wonderful anthology of beautifully written, moving pieces. Peter Carey's description of his son's birth is wonderful and joyous, and the extract from Roddy Doyle's book is hilarious - but there are some poignant moments too. That's what makes this book work - it is a balanced picture - the miracles are offset by the tragedies, and for every earth mother described, there is the one who feels all at sea with the whole thing.

It's a great book to dip into when you feel like a "fix" of baby talk - and to get a sense of the real human experience involved in conceiving, bearing and birthing children.

A stunning book - buy it now !, 23 Mar 2006
I have read Jills books with interest as she was a local girl made good. I have always enjoyed her unique writing style but this one really blew me away. What struck me was the writing is so beautifully poetic, pure silk. This book touched me on a much deeper level as I am the Mum of a two gorgeous boys age 7 and 9.
The eldest happens to be Autistic, the youngest not without difficuties. Wild boy is sensitive, well researched and heart wrenching. The details regarding the nature of Autism are striking in their accuracy, but unfortunately it brings home how much futher we still have to go in our journey of learning.

The Book I Wish I'd Written, 20 Jul 2005
I must confess that the only reason I bought this book was that I met Jill Dawson as a literary festival and was curious to match the writing to the person. I'm sooo glad I did. What can I say - this book blew me away.

Dawson's writing is outstanding. The plot of this book is gripping to say the least (albeit Dawson drew from an actual historical occurance), and her characterisation is just wonderful. I can't understand why this author has not yet become a household name - she thoroughly deserves to be a permament fixture in our bestsellers list. This shares joint first place for me in the books I read in 2004. The other was 'Middlesex', so you get the idea of the quality of Dawson's writing.

Buy it, turn off the phone, find your comfiest armchair and prepare not to move until you've finished. A masterpiece.

A wonderful writer, 10 Feb 2005
Jill Dawson is simply marvelous. I loved Fred and Edie, and here, she has once again taken an actual occurrence and imagined what really happened. The characters are well-rounded and, even though many readers will already know what actually happened to the real Enfant Suavage, their interest won't flag, as it is the other, partly invented characters we care about as well. Add to this a beautiful use of language, and it's a winner.

a remarkable, absorbing novel - recommended, 20 Nov 2003
This is one of two novels that have given me great pleasure in 2003 - oddly both about autism (the other being Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time). Why are we all so fascinated by this mysterious affliction? Haddon's hero has the milder form of Asperger's, which allows a kind of brilliance to shine through (the sort Hollywood likes) but Dawson's Victor is severely handicapped.

Found in the wild woods of post-Revolutionary France, he is brought to Paris to be studied by the (relatively) enlightened Dr. Itard. Rousseau's theories on the noble savage make Victor fashionable, and Itard struggles to impart language and clean behaviour. Unable to understand why the reflections on water are more fascinating to Victor than a society beauty, he fails; it's the other narrator, Madame Guerin, and her daughter, who comes closest to forming a relationship. Earthy, sensible and hard-working, Madame Guerin herself has probably had an autistic boy (though she believes he was a "changeling")of her own, who became a victim of the Terror. How did Victor survive for so long? He was discovered with the scar of a great wound across his neck, and towards the end the author lets us into his past, and a story as cruel as that of Hansel & Gretel.
The thoughts and voice of each protagonist are wonderfully distinct, believeable and engaging. What prevents this novel from being a really major work of literature is that Dawson sticks too faithfully to the real-life story her novel is based on. The historical linking of Victor's autism with the beliefs of post-Revolutionary France are brilliantly done, but for me where it really takes off is in the fairy-tale parallels. That said, it's head and shoulders above most of this year's fiction.

For those born more tame, 26 Sep 2003
I have often wondered what is to become of Benjamin. He is nine years old, has toffee-coloured curls and blue wide eyes, if you glance very quickly you would say he was just another handsome child, but if you allow your eye to rest a little longer you will see very soon that there is something wrong. Benjamin is very badly autistic. This is not the autism of Hollywood films: not a child that adds up long series of numbers in his head, or draws detailed pictures from memory, or makes up fine words or stories, Benjamin is like the WILD BOY in Jill Dawson's book, he says very few words, he does not look you in the eye, he is sometimes uncontrollable, and yet heis very much loved. And.I think that Benjamin loves too, although, of course, it is impossible to be sure.

Victor, the autisitc child in the WILD BOY, is found in a village called St Sernin in early nineteenth century France, a country that is just recovering from the Great Terror of the French revolution, and the sense of this provides a powerful background to the narrative. The barbarity of the time vindicates the small acts of violence that come to permeate the story in surprising ways. Victor, it is thought, has been brought up by the wolves. There are stories of his being suckled by them, of his living with them, almost becoming one of them, but then he is spied in a village, captured and then sent to the institute for the deaf in Paris. Here he is a celebrity, Pinel, the great liberating psychiatrist, declares him to be an idiot but a young doctor Itard views the child as an 'extraordinary opportunity that has walked out of the forest and into my life': he is determined that he will teach Victor to talk.

The narrative is told in three voices: the rather starchy but in the end fascinating one of doctor Itard, who is the type of person who tells you all the world as he sees it whether you want him to or not; the sensuous, warm and earthy voice of Madame Guerin, who is a wonderful contrast to the doctor and immediately arouses sympathy; and then, at the end of each part, an omniscient narrator giving chilling flashbacks of the early part of Victor's life. Each voice is utterly convincing. They are undivided on the page except by a single line gap and it is an indication of the quality of the writing that this is quite enough. The voices are so different there is never any confusion.

Gradually Victor is tamed by the care of these two different people. The story is clear, sound, realistic, the miracles are small and believable. The autistic behaviour is very well-observed and the depth of research obvious. There are moments that catch you without warning with their poignancy, and there are revelations that are unexpected and carry you absorbedly along. It describes humanity at its worst and yet it never feels bleak or desperate. At the end of WILD BOY I felt I understood a little more of what it must be like to be like Victor or Benjamin and it is not as hopeless and frustrating as I thought. There are moments of pleasure and understanding, which makes me realise that the future for Benjamin could be, as it was for Victor, just as rewarding as it is for those of us born more tame.

Seahorses and childhood, 28 May 2008
There are so many books out now about those left behind when children disappear and sadly I felt that this book did not provide enough beautiful prose, believable well formed characters or any suspense. The "I" character is clearly well educated as an academic expert in seahorses and yet her tale is not told in an adequately insightful way. I would only recommend this book to those who are interested in marine life or small town/countryside childhoods.

Watch Me Disappear, 04 May 2008
A difficult subject, sensitively handled alongside a vivid description of growing up in the seventies. Overall a good book, but for some reason, I don't feel my usual need to immediately seek out the author's back catalogue.

Accomplished novel if sometimes uncomfortable reading, 25 Mar 2008
Watch Me Disappear by Jill Dawson came to my attention via a review by John Self. While I was vaguey aware of her through her novel Fred & Edie, the striking cover of which regularly used to catch my eye in my previous existence as a bookseller, I had never gone as far as to pick up any of her books. Now that I think of it, I have no idea why, and what a shame because Watch Me Disappear is a fine book indeed.

The novel follows Tina Humber who returns to the Cambridgeshire village she grew up in for a family wedding, and so confronts the memories of her childhood friend Mandy, who disappeared when she was 10. (An aside: another book about girls going missing? How odd. I didn't notice until now.) It's a long time since Tina has been in England - she now has a career researching seahorses in the US, where she also has a husband, and a child the same age as Mandy was when she went missing. Long-buried memories start popping up unbidden, and soon Tina realises she knows exactly what happened to her friend, and perhaps always has.

This book is a real slow-burner. I don't mind admitting that at first, when I started reading it, I was inwardly debating whether to put it straight back down again. Not that there was anything bad about the book, it just wasn't grabbing me. Soon, though, it got somewhat under my skin and I couldn't put it down even if I tried (a cliche, but true). The slow-build, now that I have finished it, is actually perfect for the story. If everything moved at top speed then the narrative would undoutedly lose that magic ingerdient that makes Watch Me Disappear so compelling. Not only is it compelling, but it is also brave - not many writers could handle a subject as thorny as the innocent sexuality of young girls without it smacking of sensationalism or being a touch tawdry but Dawson pulls it off without question. A mark of a talented writer and no mistake.

At times it is an uncomfortable read, not least when the image of Holly and Jessica, the two Soham schoolgirls brutally murdered a few years go, is invoked on one or two occasions. The invocation works here, but again it is easy to see that it could so easily have gone completely wrong if Dawson hadn't been in full control of her subject. This book perhaps isn't for the faint-hearted, but my, you'd be missing out.


What do I remember?, 18 Aug 2007
I had preconceived ideas about the content of this novel and the type of direction the story would take. I expected a journey into the past for the narrator, with some kind of resolution regarding the disappearance of her best friend when they were both ten. As I read I realised that the novel was in fact concerned with more complex issues, such as how memories are formed, how far we can trust our memories and how can we be sure that what we remember is the sum of what actually happened. The narration is from the perspective of the main character and it is only through her reported conversations with others that we catch a glimpse of memories other than hers, which hint at other "truths" that could, if we only had access to them, shed some light on the story being told. The novel, in part, recreates childhood in the early seventies (which was very nostalgic for me). It is the way in which memory is explored, however, that truly resonates. The hints of damage done by unstated (possible) abuse and the tenuous connections between memory, medical condition, medication and denial are all below the surface. I've continued to think about different aspects of this book since reading it and it has been some time since I have read anything that is so understated and yet so thought provoking. I would recommend it very highly as a beautifully written book, which maintains its complex structure very well and creates, in its narrator, a vulnerable and fascinating character.

"This is the moment Mandy Baker reappears.", 01 Apr 2007
This book is written in a lush, addictive way that leaves a strong imprint in the mind. At first I thought that it was lots of quirky thoughts compiled together, so that none of it was relevant or important, but then I realised that it was the profanity of the quotes and the distance between each thought that made them so relevant. Gripping story, takes a bit of time to get used to the literary style but once it has been read it sticks. Dark, mysterious, but not in an obvious way - since most of the story is shaded with innocent recollections of summertime and childhood. Compelling and subtle.

Poignant, gripping and sad, 08 May 2008
From the moment you start to read Edie's letters from prison to her lover Fred (who has murdered her husband), there's a dreadful feeling that she's not going to have the happy ending she keeps predicting. The way Edie constantly forgives her young lover for his crime combined with her gentle tellings-off, are incredibly poignant. Fred is very young and there is a sense that he does not understand how marriages work or what Edie really wanted. All this is very cleverly conveyed via Edie's letters.

I absolutely loved this book, it's beautifully written and I was captivated by Edie and Fred and their love affair from the beginning to the tragic, but inevitable end. It prompted me to research the real story of Edith Thompson and Fred Bywaters and in this case truth really is stranger and even more sad than fiction. The only reason I didn't give the book five stars is that in real life Fred was incredibly loyal to Edie, and a victim of her fantasies, whereas in the book you get the impression that he was a bit weak and selfish and I don't think he deserves that.

A book that tells the tragic story of Edith Thompson, 08 Aug 2007
I read this book after reading "A pin to see the peepshow" which was written in 1934. Jill Dawson uses extracts from newspaper articles from the trial in 1922, after the murder of Edith Thompson's husband by her lover Frederick Bywaters. This book is beautifully written and I felt that Edie really came to life on the page; she was a vain and passionate woman who escaped from her humdrum marriage by reading romantic fiction and writing dramatic letters to her lover, Bywaters, whilst he was away at sea. Did Edie tempt her much younger lover to commit murder ? The judge and jury certainly thought so and she, along with Bywaters was condemned to death. Her execution was horrific and stories of her being pregnant and her 'insides falling out' started immediately. Jill Dawson's book is a joy and I recommend to anyone that loves a love story, or has an interest in social history.

Wonderfully written..., 01 Apr 2007
I loved this novel. I read it over a weekend and literally could not put it down. The overwhelming emotion I was left with was sadness; while awaiting trial, Edie is adamantly buoyant and completely in denial, both in terms of her actions and her fate. Admittedly, I had not heard of this very famous trial, but the words of Jill Dawson have certainly brought it to life for me.
I loved the format - letters can be so incredibly intimate and they give a fantastic insight into Edie's state of mind as she slowly declines. Though they commited a heinous crime, I found myself feeling incredibly sorry for them both -
A tradegy in its truest form.

Hard work!, 02 Sep 2006
I bought this book purely because of the beautiful cover and the fact that it was set in an area of London that I know well. (What do they say about never judging a book by it's cover??)

The book is about the famous Thompson and Bywaters murder trial from the 1920's. Edith Thompson and Fred Bywaters had an affair and were then found guilty of conspiring to murder Edie's husband, Percy. This is made clear from the beginning, so won't ruin any of the plot for you.

I have to say that I only managed to finish this book because I was really determined. None of the characters are even remotely likeable, whilst the story is thin, predictable and repeatitive. Despite the fact that most of the book is written in tedious letters written by Edie to Fred whilst she is in Holloway prison, there is little psychological insight into if and why they did actualy conspire to murder her husband.

Considering this is London in the 1920's, there is little sense of time or place and I was left with the feeling that these events could have taken place anywhere at any time during the first half of the twentieth century. Small concessions are made with a very brief mention of T S Eliot and the fact that Edie has buttons on the sides of her pants.

It will be a while before I buy another book becasue I like the cover design. Vapid and hard work, one to avoid.

As Pretty And Vapid As It's Cover, 11 Apr 2006
I must admit that I picked this book up because of it's gorgeous front cover, but after reading the blurb I was expecting a hard-hitting and poignant novel that would have a lot to say both about the death penalty and the suppression of women in the early 20th century. What I got instead was a shallow book: one that suffered from a lack of likeable or sympathetic characters and little to no actual plot.

If the author intended Edie to come across as a strong women led astray by love and condemned by a misogynic society, then, at least in my opinion, she failed miserably. Edie is indeed a 'silly and vain' woman- although she spends most of the novel insisting that she is full of passion and a longing for independence, her actions do not give the reader any evidence of this. She may indeed have earnt more than her husband (something which she mentions incessantly throughout her flashbacks) and know a lot about fashion, but Edie is not a strong character. She spends the entire novel moping after Freddy, not allowing herelf (and thus by extension the reader) to think about anything else, something which quickly becomes boring, and issues which could have been interesting - abortion, the death penalty, the fear that men have of women's bodies - became boring and predictable as she repeated the same opinion over and over again.

This novel suffers from it's first person perspective- perhaps the reader would feel more sympathy for the couple if we were ever given any indication that Freddy cared about Edie or the fact that she is going to be hanged for his crime. There is also little character development- Edie ends the novel as lovesick and unquestioning of Freddy as she ever was, and it is quite disturbing how she suspects that she is pregnant, but allows herself to be hanged through sheer apathy.

I found myself longing, at the end of novel, to know the true story of Edie, simply because I refused to believe that the death of such a vapid woman could ever have inspired the public outcry that it does in this novel.

Delicious and Dirty, 01 Apr 2001
A wonderful book. How many faces can a woman posses? I can't say, but this book explores many of them. Motherhood, love, sex, power, literature, society, all these issues and more are explored with humour, darkness, nostalgia and beauty. I love this anthology as a whole, it passes beyond race, age, religion and belief and joins women as women. The book contains a mixture of ancient (Sappho) poets all the way to modern woman poets all exploring issues which are important to all woman at all times. I fully recommend this book to anyone, men or women, because the poetry is funny and appealing - even (or particularly) when it shocks or challenges us.

grown up writing about pregnancy, 11 Feb 2003
If you're sick of being faced with a choice of textbook, magazine or comic look at pregnancy and want something which goes a bit deeper, this is the book for you. I'm rationing myself to a couple of the stories a day, but could quite easily devour it in one sitting. One of the best things about this book is how contemporary it is. For someone like me whose friends are still mostly childless, it's replaced the sort of conversations I think I would have had with them. The other aspect about the book which I particularly like is the variety - it's comforting to hear how different people are and it reminds me that I don't have to conform to any stereotype.

A breath of fresh air, 15 Aug 2002
As the editors of this book rightly say, when you are pregnant you become obsessed with reading anything and everything about conception, preganacy and childbirth. This is a wonderful anthology of beautifully written, moving pieces. Peter Carey's description of his son's birth is wonderful and joyous, and the extract from Roddy Doyle's book is hilarious - but there are some poignant moments too. That's what makes this book work - it is a balanced picture - the miracles are offset by the tragedies, and for every earth mother described, there is the one who feels all at sea with the whole thing.

It's a great book to dip into when you feel like a "fix" of baby talk - and to get a sense of the real human experience involved in conceiving, bearing and birthing children.

A stunning book - buy it now !, 23 Mar 2006
I have read Jills books with interest as she was a local girl made good. I have always enjoyed her unique writing style but this one really blew me away. What struck me was the writing is so beautifully poetic, pure silk. This book touched me on a much deeper level as I am the Mum of a two gorgeous boys age 7 and 9.
The eldest happens to be Autistic, the youngest not without difficuties. Wild boy is sensitive, well researched and heart wrenching. The details regarding the nature of Autism are striking in their accuracy, but unfortunately it brings home how much futher we still have to go in our journey of learning.

The Book I Wish I'd Written, 20 Jul 2005
I must confess that the only reason I bought this book was that I met Jill Dawson as a literary festival and was curious to match the writing to the person. I'm sooo glad I did. What can I say - this book blew me away.

Dawson's writing is outstanding. The plot of this book is gripping to say the least (albeit Dawson drew from an actual historical occurance), and her characterisation is just wonderful. I can't understand why this author has not yet become a household name - she thoroughly deserves to be a permament fixture in our bestsellers list. This shares joint first place for me in the books I read in 2004. The other was 'Middlesex', so you get the idea of the quality of Dawson's writing.

Buy it, turn off the phone, find your comfiest armchair and prepare not to move until you've finished. A masterpiece.

A wonderful writer, 10 Feb 2005
Jill Dawson is simply marvelous. I loved Fred and Edie, and here, she has once again taken an actual occurrence and imagined what really happened. The characters are well-rounded and, even though many readers will already know what actually happened to the real Enfant Suavage, their interest won't flag, as it is the other, partly invented characters we care about as well. Add to this a beautiful use of language, and it's a winner.

a remarkable, absorbing novel - recommended, 20 Nov 2003
This is one of two novels that have given me great pleasure in 2003 - oddly both about autism (the other being Mark Haddon's The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time). Why are we all so fascinated by this mysterious affliction? Haddon's hero has the milder form of Asperger's, which allows a kind of brilliance to shine through (the sort Hollywood likes) but Dawson's Victor is severely handicapped.

Found in the wild woods of post-Revolutionary France, he is brought to Paris to be studied by the (relatively) enlightened Dr. Itard. Rousseau's theories on the noble savage make Victor fashionable, and Itard struggles to impart language and clean behaviour. Unable to understand why the reflections on water are more fascinating to Victor than a society beauty, he fails; it's the other narrator, Madame Guerin, and her daughter, who comes closest to forming a relationship. Earthy, sensible and hard-working, Madame Guerin herself has probably had an autistic boy (though she believes he was a "changeling")of her own, who became a victim of the Terror. How did Victor survive for so long? He was discovered with the scar of a great wound across his neck, and towards the end the author lets us into his past, and a story as cruel as that of Hansel & Gretel.
The thoughts and voice of each protagonist are wonderfully distinct, believeable and engaging. What prevents this novel from being a really major work of literature is that Dawson sticks too faithfully to the real-life story her novel is based on. The historical linking of Victor's autism with the beliefs of post-Revolutionary France are brilliantly done, but for me where it really takes off is in the fairy-tale parallels. That said, it's head and shoulders above most of this year's fiction.

For those born more tame, 26 Sep 2003
I have often wondered what is to become of Benjamin. He is nine years old, has toffee-coloured curls and blue wide eyes, if you glance very quickly you would say he was just another handsome child, but if you allow your eye to rest a little longer you will see very soon that there is something wrong. Benjamin is very badly autistic. This is not the autism of Hollywood films: not a child that adds up long series of numbers in his head, or draws detailed pictures from memory, or makes up fine words or stories, Benjamin is like the WILD BOY in Jill Dawson's book, he says very few words, he does not look you in the eye, he is sometimes uncontrollable, and yet heis very much loved. And.I think that Benjamin loves too, although, of course, it is impossible to be sure.

Victor, the autisitc child in the WILD BOY, is found in a village called St Sernin in early nineteenth century France, a country that is just recovering from the Great Terror of the French revolution, and the sense of this provides a powerful background to the narrative. The barbarity of the time vindicates the small acts of violence that come to permeate the story in surprising ways. Victor, it is thought, has been brought up by the wolves. There are stories of his being suckled by them, of his living with them, almost becoming one of them, but then he is spied in a village, captured and then sent to the institute for the deaf in Paris. Here he is a celebrity, Pinel, the great liberating psychiatrist, declares him to be an idiot but a young doctor Itard views the child as an 'extraordinary opportunity that has walked out of the forest and into my life': he is determined that he will teach Victor to talk.

The narrative is told in three voices: the rather starchy but in the end fascinating one of doctor Itard, who is the type of person who tells you all the world as he sees it whether you want him to or not; the sensuous, warm and earthy voice of Madame Guerin, who is a wonderful contrast to the doctor and immediately arouses sympathy; and then, at the end of each part, an omniscient narrator giving chilling flashbacks of the early part of Victor's life. Each voice is utterly convincing. They are undivided on the page except by a single line gap and it is an indication of the quality of the writing that this is quite enough. The voices are so different there is never any confusion.

Gradually Victor is tamed by the care of these two different people. The story is clear, sound, realistic, the miracles are small and believable. The autistic behaviour is very well-observed and the depth of research obvious. There are moments that catch you without warning with their poignancy, and there are revelations that are unexpected and carry you absorbedly along. It describes humanity at its worst and yet it never feels bleak or desperate. At the end of WILD BOY I felt I understood a little more of what it must be like to be like Victor or Benjamin and it is not as hopeless and frustrating as I thought. There are moments of pleasure and understanding, which makes me realise that the future for Benjamin could be, as it was for Victor, just as rewarding as it is for those of us born more tame.

Seahorses and childhood, 28 May 2008
There are so many books out now about those left behind when children disappear and sadly I felt that this book did not provide enough beautiful prose, believable well formed characters or any suspense. The "I" character is clearly well educated as an academic expert in seahorses and yet her tale is not told in an adequately insightful way. I would only recommend this book to those who are interested in marine life or small town/countryside childhoods.

Watch Me Disappear, 04 May 2008
A difficult subject, sensitively handled alongside a vivid description of growing up in the seventies. Overall a good book, but for some reason, I don't feel my usual need to immediately seek out the author's back catalogue.

Accomplished novel if sometimes uncomfortable reading, 25 Mar 2008
Watch Me Disappear by Jill Dawson came to my attention via a review by John Self. While I was vaguey aware of her through her novel Fred & Edie, the striking cover of which regularly used to catch my eye in my previous existence as a bookseller, I had never gone as far as to pick up any of her books. Now that I think of it, I have no idea why, and what a shame because Watch Me Disappear is a fine book indeed.

The novel follows Tina Humber who returns to the Cambridgeshire village she grew up in for a family wedding, and so confronts the memories of her childhood friend Mandy, who disappeared when she was 10. (An aside: another book about girls going missing? How odd. I didn't notice until now.) It's a long time since Tina has been in England - she now has a career researching seahorses in the US, where she also has a husband, and a child the same age as Mandy was when she went missing. Long-buried memories start popping up unbidden, and soon Tina realises she knows exactly what happened to her friend, and perhaps always has.

This book is a real slow-burner. I don't mind admitting that at first, when I started reading it, I was inwardly debating whether to put it straight back down again. Not that there was anything bad about the book, it just wasn't grabbing me. Soon, though, it got somewhat under my skin and I couldn't put it down even if I tried (a cliche, but true). The slow-build, now that I have finished it, is actually perfect for the story. If everything moved at top speed then the narrative would undoutedly lose that magic ingerdient that makes Watch Me Disappear so compelling. Not only is it compelling, but it is also brave - not many writers could handle a subject as thorny as the innocent sexuality of young girls without it smacking of sensationalism or being a touch tawdry but Dawson pulls it off without question. A mark of a talented writer and no mistake.

At times it is an uncomfortable read, not least when the image of Holly and Jessica, the two Soham schoolgirls brutally murdered a few years go, is invoked on one or two occasions. The invocation works here, but again it is easy to see that it could so easily have gone completely wrong if Dawson hadn't been in full control of her subject. This book perhaps isn't for the faint-hearted, but my, you'd be missing out.


What do I remember?, 18 Aug 2007
I had preconceived ideas about the content of this novel and the type of direction the story would take. I expected a journey into the past for the narrator, with some kind of resolution regarding the disappearance of her best friend when they were both ten. As I read I realised that the novel was in fact concerned with more complex issues, such as how memories are formed, how far we can trust our memories and how can we be sure that what we remember is the sum of what actually happened. The narration is from the perspective of the main character and it is only through her reported conversations with others that we catch a glimpse of memories other than hers, which hint at other "truths" that could, if we only had access to them, shed some light on the story being told. The novel, in part, recreates childhood in the early seventies (which was very nostalgic for me). It is the way in which memory is explored, however, that truly resonates. The hints of damage done by unstated (possible) abuse and the tenuous connections between memory, medical condition, medication and denial are all below the surface. I've continued to think about different aspects of this book since reading it and it has been some time since I have read anything that is so understated and yet so thought provoking. I would recommend it very highly as a beautifully written book, which maintains its complex structure very well and creates, in its narrator, a vulnerable and fascinating character.

"This is the moment Mandy Baker reappears.", 01 Apr 2007
This book is written in a lush, addictive way that leaves a strong imprint in the mind. At first I thought that it was lots of quirky thoughts compiled together, so that none of it was relevant or important, but then I realised that it was the profanity of the quotes and the distance between each thought that made them so relevant. Gripping story, takes a bit of time to get used to the literary style but once it has been read it sticks. Dark, mysterious, but not in an obvious way - since most of the story is shaded with innocent recollections of summertime and childhood. Compelling and subtle.

Poignant, gripping and sad, 08 May 2008
From the moment you start to read Edie's letters from prison to her lover Fred (who has murdered her husband), there's a dreadful feeling that she's not going to have the happy ending she keeps predicting. The way Edie constantly forgives her young lover for his crime combined with her gentle tellings-off, are incredibly poignant. Fred is very young and there is a sense that he does not understand how marriages work or what Edie really wanted. All this is very cleverly conveyed via Edie's letters.

I absolutely loved this book, it's beautifully written and I was captivated by Edie and Fred and their love affair from the beginning to the tragic, but inevitable end. It prompted me to research the real story of Edith Thompson and Fred Bywaters and in this case truth really is stranger and even more sad than fiction. The only reason I didn't give the book five stars is that in real life Fred was incredibly loyal to Edie, and a victim of her fantasies, whereas in the book you get the impression that he was a bit weak and selfish and I don't think he deserves that.

A book that tells the tragic story of Edith Thompson, 08 Aug 2007
I read this book after reading "A pin to see the peepshow" which was written in 1934. Jill Dawson uses extracts from newspaper articles from the trial in 1922, after the murder of Edith Thompson's husband by her lover Frederick Bywaters. This book is beautifully written and I felt that Edie really came to life on the page; she was a vain and passionate woman who escaped from her humdrum marriage by reading romantic fiction and writing dramatic letters to her lover, Bywaters, whilst he was away at sea. Did Edie tempt her much younger lover to commit murder ? The judge and jury certainly thought so and she, along with Bywaters was condemned to death. Her execution was horrific and stories of her being pregnant and her 'insides falling out' started immediately. Jill Dawson's book is a joy and I recommend to anyone that loves a love story, or has an interest in social history.

Wonderfully written..., 01 Apr 2007
I loved this novel. I read it over a weekend and literally could not put it down. The overwhelming emotion I was left with was sadness; while awaiting trial, Edie is adamantly buoyant and completely in denial, both in terms of her actions and her fate. Admittedly, I had not heard of this very famous trial, but the words of Jill Dawson have certainly brought it to life for me.
I loved the format - letters can be so incredibly intimate and they give a fantastic insight into Edie's state of mind as she slowly declines. Though they commited a heinous crime, I found myself feeling incredibly sorry for them both -
A tradegy in its truest form.

Hard work!, 02 Sep 2006
I bought this book purely because of the beautiful cover and the fact that it was set in an area of London that I know well. (What do they say about never judging a book by it's cover??)

The book is about the famous Thompson and Bywaters murder trial from the 1920's. Edith Thompson and Fred Bywaters had an affair and were then found guilty of conspiring to murder Edie's husband, Percy. This is made clear from the beginning, so won't ruin any of the plot for you.

I have to say that I only managed to finish this book because I was really determined. None of the characters are even remotely likeable, whilst the story is thin, predictable and repeatitive. Despite the fact that most of the book is written in tedious letters written by Edie to Fred whilst she is in Holloway prison, there is little psychological insight into if and why they did actualy conspire to murder her husband.

Considering this is London in the 1920's, there is little sense of time or place and I was left with the feeling that these events could have taken place anywhere at any time during the first half of the twentieth century. Small concessions are made with a very brief mention of T S Eliot and the fact that Edie has buttons on the sides of her pants.

It will be a while before I buy another book becasue I like the cover design. Vapid and hard work, one to avoid.

As Pretty And Vapid As It's Cover, 11 Apr 2006
I must admit that I picked this book up because of it's gorgeous front cover, but after reading the blurb I was expecting a hard-hitting and poignant novel that would have a lot to say both about the death penalty and the suppression of women in the early 20th century. What I got instead was a shallow book: one that suffered from a lack of likeable or sympathetic characters and little to no actual plot.

If the author intended Edie to come across as a strong women led astray by love and condemned by a misogynic society, then, at least in my opinion, she failed miserably. Edie is indeed a 'silly and vain' woman- although she spends most of the novel insisting that she is full of passion and a longing for independence, her actions do not give the reader any evidence of this. She may indeed have earnt more than her husband (something which she mentions incessantly throughout her flashbacks) and know a lot about fashion, but Edie is not a strong character. She spends the entire novel moping after Freddy, not allowing herelf (and thus by extension the reader) to think about anything else, something which quickly becomes boring, and issues which could have been interesting - abortion, the death penalty, the fear that men have of women's bodies - became boring and predictable as she repeated the same opinion over and over again.

This novel suffers from it's first person perspective- perhaps the reader would feel more sympathy for the couple if we were ever given any indication that Freddy cared about Edie or the fact that she is going to be hanged for his crime. There is also little character development- Edie ends the novel as lovesick and unquestioning of Freddy as she ever was, and it is quite disturbing how she suspects that she is pregnant, but allows herself to be hanged through sheer apathy.

I found myself longing, at the end of novel, to know the true story of Edie, simply because I refused to believe that the death of such a vapid woman could ever have inspired the public outcry that it does in this novel.

Delicious and Dirty, 01 Apr 2001
A wonderful book. How many faces can a woman posses? I can't say, but this book explores many of them. Motherhood, love, sex, power, literature, society, all these issues and more are explored with humour, darkness, nostalgia and beauty. I love this anthology as a whole, it passes beyond race, age, religion and belief and joins women as women. The book contains a mixture of ancient (Sappho) poets all the way to modern woman poets all exploring issues which are important to all woman at all times. I fully recommend this book to anyone, men or women, because the poetry is funny and appealing - even (or particularly) when it shocks or challenges us.

Four very different but equally excellent romantic stories., 08 Jun 2001
I bought this book on the strength of seeing Brenda Joyce's name on the cover and I wasn't disappointed! As a collection of short stories this was a better example than most with well rounded charcters and a variety of historic and contemporary tales in the mix.

grown up writing about pregnancy, 11 Feb 2003
If you're sick of being faced with a choice of textbook, magazine or comic look at pregnancy and want something which goes a bit deeper, this is the book for you. I'm rationing myself to a couple of the stories a day, but could quite easily devour it in one sitting. One of the best things about this book is how contemporary it is. For someone like me whose friends are still mostly childless, it's replaced the sort of conversations I think I would have had with them. The other aspect about the book which I particularly like is the variety - it's comforting to hear how different people are and it reminds me that I don't have to conform to any stereotype.

A breath of fresh air, 15 Aug 2002
As the editors of this book rightly say, when you are pregnant you become obsessed with reading anything and everything about conception, preganacy and childbirth. This is a wonderful anthology of beautifully written, moving pieces. Peter Carey's description of his son's birth is wonderful and joyous, and the extract from Roddy Doyle's book is hilarious - but there are some poignant moments too. That's what makes this book work - it is a balanced picture - the miracles are offset by the tragedies, and for every earth mother described, there is the one who feels all at sea with the whole thing.

It's a great book to dip into when you feel like a "fix" of baby talk - and to get a sense of the real human experience involved in conceiving, bearing and birthing children.

A stunning book - buy it now !, 23 Mar 2006
I have read Jills books with interest as she was a local girl made good. I have