Ostler
Ostler
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This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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Let’s start with the word “Ostler”—what is that? It’s apparently a variant of hostler (which doesn’t help me at all), someone who tends to horses at an inn. Words like “archaic” show up when you look and various dictionaries.
Now, I have to wonder—why entitle your novel with an archaic term that many people aren’t going to be familiar with? There’s a certain charm to using a term like that with a historical mystery. Also, maybe the term is a bit more familiar to readers in the U.K. Still, it seems risky to me. Who’s going to be drawn to that?
Sure, Grossey knows her audience—so it’s probably a smart move. Also, for Grossey fans, they’re going to be drawn to her name rather than the book’s.
Let’s move along to the more important things:
Our titular Ostler is Gregory Hardiman, a veteran of the war against Napoleon and other things—he has some sort of obvious facial injury, and more than a few memories he’d rather not have. He didn’t return home when his time was up, but took up residence in Cambridge and started working as an Ostler. He has a way with horses that garners him (and the inn he works for) a great reputation.
He’s also a reader—a big one. He’s constantly trying to educate himself—he carries a notebook of words he’s trying to learn with him and is frequently updating it. This, as much as his injury, seems to mark him as an oddity, and endears him to some characters as much as it will the reader.
Anyway, a coworker is found killed and his widow wants answers. Too many people (particularly the officials) write his death off, but neither his widow or Hardiman are convinced. Haridman finds himself assuring her that he’ll get to the bottom of it. On the one hand, she’s desperate for answers, so she’ll take the help of anyone who takes her seriously. But I’m not sure why either of them think he’s the right man for the job.
Naturally, as this is the first of a series, he clearly is, but Hardiman doesn’t strike me as the best candidate at the beginning. He starts by looking into the brother of the dead man—he’s familiar with the outskirts of the law, and just seems shifty.
This leads Hardiman to some dealings with Clement College and officials there—he uncovers some shady dealings and earns the trust of the faculty. While continuing to look into the murder, he ends up taking on another investigation for the College.
Hardiman—and an interesting hodgepodge of allies—uncovers a lot more than he expected to. Including some dangerous men who aren’t intimidated by an ex-soldier.
So, what I know about this time period in England—particularly about the way colleges functioned, life in Cambridge and its environs, and so on would fit on the back of a postage stamp. With room for a florid signature left over. So Grossey could’ve made everything up out of whole cloth and I’d buy it—worldbuilding worthy of Rothfuss, Martin, or Jemisin.
But I’m certain* that’s not what happened here. Grossey paints a detailed picture of life in the time, a robust set of characters from a variety of socio-economic classes and professions. It reeks of authenticity. I want to read whatever books come next in the series just so I learn more. I jokingly told Grossey that I felt like I should ask her for a reading list to understand the time/setting—and she volunteered to provide such a list, but I think I’m just going to let her spoon-feed me things as I spend more time with Hardiman.
*98.7% certain, anyway. I feel like I should leave a little room for cynicism.
This succeeds on multiple fronts—as a mystery, as a piece of historical fiction, as a showcase for a unique (and potentially fascinating, time will tell) protagonist, and as a series start. I don’t know that this book has it all (few do), but it certainly has enough to heartily recommend.
The story is compelling, the pacing isn’t quite what you’d want in a contemporary Crime Novel, but it fits for the time—which isn’t to suggest it lags at all. You really do want to spend more time with most of these characters again (including most of them on the wrong side of the law)—few more so than Hardiman. The circumstances in his life undergo a significant change by the end of this book, and I’m eager to see how he adapts to them (his life seems to be a series of adaptations already, he’ll do fine).
As a slice of early 19th-century life, I found it most intriguing, and I wager most who at least dabble in historical fiction will as well. As with her Sam Plank series, Grossey is able to bring things to life in a way that gets even the uninformed 21st-century reader to see things and to immerse yourself in the period.
Give this one a shot—at least one thing in this book will appeal to you, probably several.
Originally posted at irresponsiblereader.com.