The Hand that First Held Mine

Synopsis: When the sophisticated Innes Kent turns up on her doorstep, Lexie Sinclair realises she cannot wait any longer for her life to begin, and leaves for London. There, at the heart of the 1950s Soho art scene, she carves out a new life. In the present day, Elina and Ted are reeling from the difficult birth of their first child. Elina struggles to reconcile the demands of motherhood with sense of herself as an artist, and Ted is disturbed by memories of his own childhood that don't tally with his parents' version of events. As Ted begins to search for answers, an extraordinary portrait of two women is revealed, separated by fifty years, but connected in ways that neither could ever have expected.

Review: I thought this one started better than it ended but nevertheless it was an enjoyable and absorbing read. I have no idea why but I find I'm struggling with contemporary stories at the moment, especially those true to life, I'm finding it a struggle to keep interested. This story is split into separate chapters, alternately focusing on Lexie and Innes in the 1950's and Elina and Ted in the present day. You know that eventually the two worlds are going to collide and, unusually, I worked it out well in advance, which put a bit of a damper on the reveal. Rather like the Hotel du Lac there were times when I couldn't put this book down and times when I was bored and wanting it to finish. I was more drawn to the story of Lexie than of Elina (which is always the problem with multiple storylines, there is always one story that you prefer and it makes the other storylines irksome) but I suspect that was more to do with the 1950's setting because I didn't particularly like her or anyone else for that matter. It sounds as if I'm being ultra critical and I'm not meaning to be because I suspect this is probably one of the better contemporary stories out there. It starts with 'Listen. The trees in this story are stirring, trembling, readjusting themselves. A breeze is coming in gusts off the sea, and it is almost as if the trees know, in their restlessness, in their head tossing impatience, that something is about to happen' and I was hoping it would continue in the same vein which it did, but not consistantly. The characters must have got under my skin because I found myself wanting to give them all a good kick in the pants at various times but, for all that, I still felt intrigued enough by them to want to know how their stories played out.