I wrote this review of Laura Elvery’s novel, Nightingale, about the famous nurse, Florence Nightingale, some time ago but never got around to posting it. It is a literary treat for its elegance of exposition, lightness of phraseology, and evocation of mood.
Despite the wonderful literary journey, such is its subtly, it hasn’t left me knowing Florence any better. It is as if the novel’s characters merely brush against her, unravel her apparel perhaps expose some flesh, a bone, thereby illuminating her to invite further exploration like an autopsy might, yet leaving as many questions as answers. Like her previous work (E.g. The Trick of Light, about women scientists) Elvery has written to the topic rather than of the topic. It has inspired me, as an historian, to learn more about her subject, to understand the themes hinted at in this literary expose.
Three major characters inhabit the novel with chapters devoted to each. Florence, subordinate nurse Jean and one of the wounded Crimean war soldiers, Silas. The three are intimately bound through chance encounters and inhabit the mind of an ageing Florence.
The early Silas chapters are reminiscent of George Saunders’ “Lincoln in the Bardot” voice, which evokes a definite other-worldly effect, the later chapters less so.
Elvery’s reputation is founded upon her skill as a writer of short stories. In some senses this work is a continuation of that genre as the subjects are explored from various points-of-view and less subtly intertwined than in a more holistic, expository approach, but no less effective. I enjoy following Elvery because of her literary intent. Fewer writers attempt this style, and the immediate rewards are often less substantial, but as lasting input into our cultural evolution, far more important.
