The Care and Management of Lies: A Novel of the Great War (P.S. (Paperback))
Jacqueline Winspear
Language: English
Pages: 352
ISBN: 0062220519
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
The New York Times bestselling author of the Maisie Dobbs series turns her prodigious talents to this World War I standalone novel, a lyrical drama of love struggling to survive in a damaged, fractured world.
By July 1914, the ties between Kezia Marchant and Thea Brissenden, friends since girlhood, have become strained—by Thea’s passionate embrace of women’s suffrage, and by the imminent marriage of Kezia to Thea’s brother, Tom, who runs the family farm. When Kezia and Tom wed just a month before war is declared between Britain and Germany, Thea’s gift to Kezia is a book on household management—a veiled criticism of the bride’s prosaic life to come. Yet when Tom enlists to fight for his country and Thea is drawn reluctantly onto the battlefield, the farm becomes Kezia’s responsibility. Each must find a way to endure the ensuing cataclysm and turmoil.
As Tom marches to the front lines, and Kezia battles to keep her ordered life from unraveling, they hide their despair in letters and cards filled with stories woven to bring comfort. Even Tom’s fellow soldiers in the trenches enter and find solace in the dream world of Kezia’s mouth-watering, albeit imaginary meals. But will well-intended lies and self-deception be of use when they come face to face with the enemy?
Published to coincide with the centennial of the Great War, The Care and Management of Lies paints a poignant picture of love and friendship strained by the pain of separation and the brutal chaos of battle. Ultimately, it raises profound questions about conflict, belief, and love that echo in our own time.
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Cooking, and was struck by the idea that perhaps she would change things around, just to see what happened. Why would she cook baked apple for pudding when apple went very well with pork anyway? Why not combine the two and see how it might turn out? Immersing herself in the creation of a new dish, she felt relief as she moved away from thoughts of Thea and the dark chasm she saw in her mind’s eye when she worried about her. Kezia cut the pork into small pieces, frying them to a golden brown,.
Not as bad as that, Watsy. Really. She’s working hard and it’s her night off. She’s entitled,” replied Cecil. Tom glanced across at his friend and shook his head. He wondered why Cecil had taken the bait. You didn’t want to get Jimmy Watson going—he’d never let up. “And it’s not as if I get a tin of biscuits, like you, or a cake, like old Brissy over there—and didn’t you get a new pair of socks as well, and a wrapper of homemade toffee?” Tom nodded. “I tell you, I’ve been over here since last.
Things this, and your two effing things that. Put an effing sock in it, will you?” Watson returned the volley. “If my feet weren’t stuck to the mud, I’d clock you one—rearrange your dial for you.” “Come on now, that’s enough of that—we’ve got plenty on our plates with the chaps in the opposite trench gunning for us, without going for each other’s throats.” Cecil nodded to Tom. “Read us one of your missus’ recipes, Tom. Or has she let us down this time?” Tom smiled despite himself. He hadn’t.
Officer.” “I understand this Brissenden has been mentioned in dispatches. Good soldier, was he? Before this, of course.” “First class, actually,” said Hawkes. “But you’ll have to come to your own conclusions.” “My conclusion is that I want to go home to my wife and children, Hawkes,” said Wells. “And the sooner we can all get back to Blighty, the better. Men like your Brissenden don’t make our lives any easier. This sort of thing gets on my nerves, and I’d shoot a man for that.” A tent had.
For he was still too far away. Knowles was intent upon blasting a hole through Tom Brissenden. Hawkes’ scream was long and loud as he lifted his revolver, yet his entreaty to stop was not to be heard across the landscape, across fields that had once grown sugar beet and barley, and into which the blood of hundreds of men was now seeping. “No! Stop!” he shouted again, and at that moment Tom Brissenden looked to his side—not that he could have heard, but Hawkes wondered, later, if he might have.