2014: 32. The Misinterpretation of Tara Jupp

"Like I said, everything began with Lucy.  And why wouldn't it?"

The Misinterpretation of Tara Jupp, Eva Rice

This book is the follow up to a book I enjoyed - The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets, and I don't even think you can get it in the U.S. - my copy came from Amazon via a UK seller. Which is a shame because this book is a treat.  It definitely continues on in my period novel set in England kick (but don't worry - I've made a switch to mittel-European spy novels, coming soon to a blog near you), and it's set in the same world as the previous book, which is a thing that I love - I love, love when an author goes out and starts creating a fictional world (the spy novels I'm reading do the same thing, actually).  It's so fun when an old friend pops up in a minor way.

So, re-reading my review of The Lost Art, I seemed to have dinged it for obvious plot points.  I wouldn't say this is terribly more subtle (I get it, the harmonica player is Brian Jones, his band is  the Stones), but I must be getting soft in my old age, because I just enjoyed the story here.  It's about a young girl in 1960's England.  Tara Jupp is one of eight children whose mother died when she was young.  She loves horses and happens to have the kind of voice that stops traffic - girl can sing.  She and her gorgeous sister Lucy have a series of adventures that leads to her cutting a record and becoming a pop sensation - but is that what she really wants? Look, it doesn't sound great when I write it out, but I just enjoyed Tara Jupp, and the way Eva Rice writes about people - they seemed real and flawed and interesting, even while their circumstances seemed a little Mary Sue-ish (they become friends with gentility! They are pop stars! They meet Brian Jones!).  I am surprised it's not available here - it seemed like The Lost Art was a hit, and this is as good if not better.  Seek it out if you liked the first book, or like (like me) like sweet novels set in the recent English past. 

© Carrie Dunsmore 2017