Review of Nocturne for a Widow

Nocturne for a Widow (Sybil Ingram, book 1)

By Amanda DeWees

Synopsis:

In this spooky, sparkling mix of gothic mystery and romantic comedy, spirited Victorian actress Sybil Ingram vies for a Hudson Valley haunted house with hot-tempered musician Roderick Brooke - and locks horns with a mysterious, powerful rival. (Goodreads)

By turns mysterious and moving, sparkling and spooky, Nocturne for a Widow follows a spirited heroine through adventures in life, love, and death. From the colorful theatrical world of late-Victorian London to the American wilderness, Sybil's travels will test her mettle--and her heart. (Amazon)

Source: Goodreads

My rating: 4.4/5

My Thoughts:

I can safely say that I adored Nocturne for a Widow. Amanda has a way of transforming such morbid events into an amusing tale. The first chapter with the eccentric Etherton and his drama drew me in and the following events continued to demand my attention. 

I loved Sybil's theatrics and her stubborn but loyal character. Her restless energy and love for her profession was a lovely change from all the books about teenage protagonists I've read recently. 

Mr Brooke certainly completed the picture with his cynical attitude and devilish persona. It was clear from the start that Sybil and he would make a fierce couple, especially since the two were at war for ownership of the house. They keep each other at arms length and argued incessantly but the energy between them was palpable. 

There were many other unusual characters to this story, such as the witty reverend, malicious Mrs Dove and the spirit haunting the mansion. 

In conclusion, this book was a delight to read, as Amaanda DeWees' books always are and I do hope you'll give it a try too. If I haven't convinced you yet, take a look at my favourite quotes for a taste of Nocturne for a Widow.

Zed (:

Favourite Quotes:

“Oh, Atherton.” I sank back into my chair. “Is your rheumatism worse? I had hoped…”

“As had I, fair Gloriana. As had I.” His sigh seemed to come from the depths of the earth itself. “My doctor tells me my trouping days are o’er, alas. Enchained am I, like Prometheus to his rock, trapped like Ariel in the cloven pine.”

No longer was I confined to the purgatory of solitude waiting. She who has an enemy, after all, is never lonely.

“Dr. Carfax,” I said, and although I spoke pleasantly a little thread of iron had entered my voice, “you know perfectly well that we are all of us, men and women, susceptible to outer beauty. Inner beauty can be more elusive and take time and pains for an observer to unearth, but a fetching exterior shines forth as powerfully as a lighthouse beacon on a dark night.”

He gave a derisive snort. “If you are an example of such a thing, Mrs. Lammle, I would be afraid to open my mind lest its present contents fall out.”

“If the dead truly haunted the living as in your tale, I’d never have a moment’s peace.”

  

“…Youth is the most precious thing we can possess, but it is wrested from our grasp so soon. We are left straining after it, yearning for it, while it flits away remorselessly. And then we have the rest of our life to contemplate what we lost, all that we did not do when we had that most precious of gifts.”

“In any case, you remember what happened the last time I had feminine inspiration.”“Did you chop her up and hide her under the floorboards?” I inquired. “It would not greatly surprise me.”“And I am surprised,” he returned, “that you have reached your present age without having met the same fate.”