Step back into a richly woven tale of love, loyalty, and secrets with The House Keeper by Janita Cunnington. Set against the evocative backdrop of postwar Australia, this compelling novel unravels the life of Myra Henzel, a devoted housekeeper caught in the shadows of a mysterious death and an enduring legacy. From the quiet corners of the sprawling Ardwyn estate to the tense corridors of justice, Myra’s story is one of resilience and complexity, exploring themes of duty, sacrifice, and the harsh judgments of society.
With meticulous detail and atmospheric prose, Cunnington brings to life a world where private lives intersect with historical upheaval. Readers will be captivated by Myra’s struggles, the intricate relationships within the household, and the gripping courtroom drama that questions truth and morality. Brimming with authentic period detail and emotional depth, The House Keeper is a haunting exploration of memory, identity, and the price of confession.
Perfect for fans of historical fiction and courtroom thrillers alike, this novel promises a profound and unforgettable reading experience. Discover the secrets that lie within the walls of Ardwyn and step into a story where every room holds a truth waiting to be uncovered.
By the author of Child of Mine and The River House (Penguin Books).
IP (Interactive Publications Pty Ltd) –
In the prologue [1] to The House Keeper, there is this sentence which begins – On a rainy autumn afternoon in the year 1947 … A simple but evocative sentence to begin a narrative which explores the memories of Myra Hensley – the housekeeper – and her gradual slippage away from reality.
Myra at age thirteen goes into domestic service -first for a year in Maryborough, then three years with the Singletons in Clayfield. When the Singleton’s daughter Kitty married Stephen Reece [later Judge Reece], Myra went with them to Ardwyn in Heriot Drive where she stayed for forty years. It is now 1952 and Myra – a ‘small thin woman in her sixties’ [17] presents herself at the local police station claiming that ‘she had committed a murder’ [17].
What has occurred in the intervening forty years to have brought Myra to this point? Told through the prism of Myra’s lived experience, the narrative charts the events which led her to the police station. And it is an intriguing and somewhat claustrophobic journey.
For a brief moment just before World War I, Myra has a chance at a different life but the war and her own diffidence intervened and the chance was lost. And in her mind, as she turns over and over the events of that morning, she comes to acknowledge that she misjudged badly and made a slighting jest – but was unable to chase down the thought as it was always time for another of the never-ending household chores and her moment of introspection was over.
Through the birth of the Reece’s three children, the mental disintegration of Kitty, and the momentous world events which take place outside Myra’s world and which barely touch her, Myra continues to cook and clean, care for the children, care for Kitty – but needing at times ‘the sheer companionableness of passing the time of day with someone who spoke the same lingo or near enough’ [147]. It is this ‘lingo’ in which the narrative is articulated – it is written in real time and as if Myra is speaking the words aloud as she recounts the events in her mind. The author has beautifully captured the interior monologue of a person indispensable to the household but at the same time taken for granted – listening and observing the family’s life but always at one remove.
Through it all, Myra often felt that nothing could be counted on – she says to herself: It was strange how things went. You thought everything was settled, and then behind your back, or under your feet, something shifted [129]. Gradually over time, small resentments and slights accumulate and take their emotional toll on Myra as she turns to brooding and ‘finding new reasons to be vexed’ [112]. As Myra sifts through her memories – a challenging task as she finds that ‘one memory seeped into another, even into memories from other times, and changed the meaning of them’ [196], she begins to feel the weight of responsibility. Had she done that – what happened first – and why had she done that? These thoughts take her to the police station where she confesses to a murder.
The House Keeper through Myra’s voice explores the unreliability of memory and motivation. There is something of Patrick White in Myra’s inner monologue and how the author is able to capture the colloquial language used by Myra with the sense of her feeling her way forward in a sentence unsure where it’s going and what exactly is meant. And that seamless movement between Myra’s inner voice and the outer world, and between the past and the present.
This is a novel to be enjoyed on a number of levels; not least the character of Myra and her world view. Well recommended.
– Rod McLary, Queensland Reviewer Collective