The Book of Guilt by Catherine Chidgey

In a skewed version of England in 1979, triplets Vincent, Lawrence and William are the last remaining residents of a New Forest home, part of the government’s Sycamore Scheme. Each day, the boys must take medicine to protect themselves from a mysterious illness to which many of their friends have succumbed. Children who survive are allowed to move to the Big House in Margate, a destination of mythical proportions, desired by every Sycamore child.

Meanwhile, in Exeter, Nancy lives a secluded life with her parents, who never let her leave the house. As the government looks to shut down the Sycamore homes and place their residents into the community, the triplets’ lives begin to intersect with Nancy’s, culminating in revelations that will rock the children to the core.

Slowly revealing its dark secrets, author Catherine Chidgey has once again knocked it out of the park with her latest story. The Book of Guilt was spelling binding, luring me in from the very first pages.

Switching between child and adult narrators, it's a fantastic alt-historical fictional story. It's hard to talk about this story without spoilers, but Chidgey's pace and character building is superb. 

Within a few chapters I was emotionally invested in the children and the story, desperate to find out exactly what was going on. Chidgey uses three voices to tell the story - triplet Vincent, the Minister of Loneliness, who is responsible for the Sycamore scheme, and Nancy. Each voice is distinct and different, and while the reader might want to dislike a character, Chidgey ensures they are so well-rounded, you can't help but understand them and feel for them, despite your best efforts. Chidgey also ensures every other character in the story has a purpose, drip-feeding the reader just enough information while keeping you in suspense.

She packs in plenty of twists and turns that you can easily spot creeping up on you, but then still manages to smack you in the face and flip everything you thought you knew upside down. I'm not normally a fan of psychological thrillers, but Chidgey, a master at playing with readers' emotions, may just have converted me.

It's a story about ethics and morals, about belonging and community, nature versus nurture and, terrifyingly, it's totally believable.

Reviewer: Rebekah Lyell

Te Herenga Waka University Press