With her latest novel “The Marriage Portrait” Maggie O'Farrell proves that she's one of the finest historical novelists working today. The basis of her inspiration comes from using that classic trick of plucking a semi-obscure figure from the distant past along with a bit of gossip to conjure a tale from between the pages of history. The subject is Lucrezia de' Medici, a noble daughter from Florence who was married to Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara in 1558 when she was only thirteen. A year later she died from what was labelled as “putrid fever” but it was rumoured that she had been murdered by Alfonso. Although this new novel is set in the mid-1500s (only a few decades prior to her previous novel “Hamnet”) the stories are worlds apart. We follow Lucrezia's life as she is born into a busy privileged Italian household and ostracised for being the strange daughter of the family. O'Farrell imaginatively transports readers to this era with sumptuous, lavish, gorgeously-rendered detail of palace life with its many ornate rooms and hidden corridors, trysts and shady dealings and a menagerie of exotic animals kept for Cosimo, the Duke of Tuscany's amusement. When Lucrezia ventures into the depths of the palace to spy upon her father's new acquisition of a tigress she feels a momentary connection with this wild beautiful animal that stirs her spirit.

The narrative alternates between the story of her upbringing and her time at the remote “hunting lodge” of her husband Alfonso when Lucrezia is suddenly convinced “that he intends to kill her.” Is this true? Is she delirious from illness? Is she paranoid? Is there any way she can survive? These questions remain tantalizingly suspended throughout the story until the exhilarating and clever climax. There are so many compelling characters: vain sisters, bratty brothers, a wise nursemaid, seductive suitors, mysterious artists and scheming friends. As heads of the family, Eleanora and her husband Cosimo provide a model example of rulers of the region in their productivity and determination to educate all their children – both the boys and girls. However, their great flaw is underestimating their daughter Lucrezia. Here she is placed at the centre of the novel as the consummate outsider and forgotten child whose artistic talent leaves her teachers in awe. Though this position naturally makes her somewhat lonely, it's also advantageous as she can see the workings of things more clearly from a distance. Lucrezia's keen skills of observation and ability to discern power dynamics serves her well. She probably would have remained sidelined by her siblings if her elder sister Maria hadn't died from illness which means Lucrezia is ushered to take her place in marrying Alfonso.

I felt so drawn into the dynamics of palace life. O'Farrell is very skilful at evoking this period as well as creating a mystery around Alfonso who comes across as so charming but secretive. It's a tribute to the author's ability that she can build such a strong sense of hope while also making readers dread an impending doom. I was kept in suspense throughout while being spellbound by the heady experience of Lucrezia's wealthy but cloistered life. What's especially intriguing about this historical novel is the way the author allows you to see how things could have played out so differently if fate had blown in a different direction. If Maria hadn't died from disease and married Alfonso her outcome would have been very different from Lucrezia's. If Alfonso hadn't been so ruthless in his desire to produce an heir and allowed Lucrezia to become his equal partner, they could have ruled in as harmonious a way as Lucrezia's parents. O'Farrell shows how certain events dictate history, but they don't determine the future. And through the inspiring conclusion she establishes an ingenious way for us to re-view the past.

Why Shakespeare? In Maggie O’Farrell’s “Hamnet” the author uses her considerable talent for mapping the emotional terrain and intimate relationships of her contemporary characters over a long period of time to write a historical novel about the plague-ridden reality of late 16th century England and the death of Shakespeare’s adolescent son Hamnet. Four years after the boy’s death the Bard wrote ‘Hamlet’, a name that was used interchangeably with Hamnet at the time. Given we know only a slender amount about Shakespeare’s life and he wrote nothing of his personal grief, it’s irresistible to speculate on what motivated him to immortalize his son’s name in a play which went on to be one of the most quoted literary works in the English language. However, rather than portray Shakespeare’s thoughts and feelings, O’Farrell instead focuses on the lives of his family: Shakespeare and Agnes’ hastily arranged marriage, the illness of Hamnet’s twin sister Judith, Hamnet’s sudden death and the devastating grief which followed. This is powerfully rendered, beautifully written with evocative historical details and I enjoyed it immensely but…

I felt like something was lacking. A problem might be in my expectations for this novel which has been much-hyped and lauded. It’s been shortlisted for the Women’s Prize, tipped for the Booker and a prominent review ended by simply stating “this is a work that ought to win prizes.” Publicity for the book describes it as “the heart-stopping story behind Shakespeare’s most famous play.” But the novel tells us very little about Shakespeare’s motivation or influence for writing the play beyond what I’ve already described. So I feel that if O’Farrell uses this as a premise her fiction needs to converse with and expand our understanding of Shakespeare’s writing and his literary stature by imaginatively inhabiting his reality. However, Shakespeare is very much a periphery character who is emotionally and physically absent from his family in Stratford while he pursues his dramatic work in London. Of course, this was no doubt the reality. But if we’re not going to get Shakespeare’s perspective or a feeling for the man himself why include him as a character or focus on this central storyline?

Instead, O’Farrell inventively and movingly imagines the life of Agnes as someone with healing powers and quasi-psychic abilities who frequently gathers flowers and herbs to concoct healing mixtures for many of the locals. It’s remarked that “Agnes is of another world. She does not quite belong here.” She’s an entirely-convincing, fully rounded character who is strong and full of heart. I found it very touching how she’s hampered with feelings of guilt about her son’s fate even though she couldn’t have predicted the outcome of his illness or prevented his death. Also, her ambivalent feelings about her husband are a poignant and realistic depiction of a relationship. She’ll never want to see him again one moment and then another moment will feel achingly close to him. She also recognizes that his family and life in Stratford could never be enough for him: “She can tell, even through her dazed exhaustion, even before she can take his hand, that he has found it, he is fitting it, he is inhabiting it - that life he was meant to live, that work he was intended to do.” All of this detail and characterization is excellent but it could be about any family with an absent husband/father.

Shakespeare looms large in our esteem as probably the greatest writer in Western literature and there’s a prolific amount of biographical literature based on relatively few facts making the Bard seem more mythical than historical. Therefore, O’Farrell’s novel feels somewhat like fanfiction that imaginatively and powerfully builds a domestic universe out of the slenderly-known central players in his life. It makes an important statement by naming these figures and conspicuously not naming Shakespeare at all in the novel – he’s only ever referred to by his status as either “the husband”, “the tutor” or “the father”. Perhaps it is partly O’Farrell’s purpose in writing this book to state that the man was merely mortal and his reality was probably as ordinary as his stark and plain writing room that we get a glimpse of late in the novel. That’s perfectly fine. But…

While reading this novel I kept thinking of “Lincoln in the Bardo” and how much Saunders dynamically builds on both our historical and imagined understanding of Abraham Lincoln as a legendary political figure from American history. As with any prominent figure, it shows how he had to balance his personal reality with his public reputation. But “Hamnet” shows us almost nothing about Shakespeare’s conflict except why he’s almost entirely absented himself from family life: “He sees how he may become mired in Stratford forever, a creature with its leg in the jaws of an iron trap, with his father next door, and his son, cold and decaying, beneath the churchyard sod.” But even before Hamnet’s death he rarely visited his family. A writer who feels like they can’t simultaneously maintain a family and professional life is an interesting subject, but his feelings on this aren’t explored either. The most moving portrait of Shakespeare in this novel comes when he tries to engage Agnes in talking about the flora she gathers rather than discussing their son’s death and Agnes resolutely ignores him. Otherwise, I was left as surprised and confused as Agnes about why Shakespeare named his play after his son – other than a fairly obvious psychological interpretation for his motivations. This left me feeling somewhat deflated at the end of the novel.

Given our current circumstances, I also have to note the bizarre coincidence that this novel focuses so much on the effects of a pandemic. It describes in detail the symptoms the plague has on the body and the way measures were taken to try to contain the illness. There are references to theatres needing to periodically close because of it. There’s also an imaginative and impressive section which describes the journey of the illness and how is spreads through fleas from a young sailor to a glass craftsman and how it finally comes to infect a member of Shakespeare’s family. It’s a strange experience reading a novel whose central subject matter becomes surprisingly topical. I also want to stress how much I enjoyed this excellent novel and I’m not surprised it has many enthusiastic fans, but I just wasn’t as impressed as some other readers have been.

A novel about a reclusive ex-film star may sound like it will focus on sensational glamour rather than an emotionally-effective story, but “This Must Be the Place” is engrossing and extremely moving. Maggie O'Farrell creates a woman named Claudette who walks away from her famous director husband and a successful acting career to live in the remotest possible Ireland retreat and weaves her tale into the stories of many other fascinating characters. Most notably it charts her relationship with Daniel who deals with the complicated family he had with his first wife, an unresolved secret from his past and a growing substance abuse problem. Each chapter focuses on a specific character related to this couple. It leapfrogs back and forth through time to form impressions of their dramatic and tumultuous lives. The cumulative effect of this very readable novel is a kaleidoscopic portrait of the way chance and coincidence influence the most important decisions of our lives.

In one section, Daniel and his son Niall travel to the eerie and unusual salt flats of South America.

O'Farrell has a fascinating way of mapping out the lives of her characters in this novel. Each chapter is sub-headed by a name, year and location so you know with certainty where you are, but only through the course of the narrative do you understand why this point matters so much. The focus varies from stories about Daniel’s son Niall’s painful struggles with a severe eczema condition at a special dermatological clinic to Claudette’s sister-in-law Maeve’s journey to China to adopt a daughter. Through these fascinating individual stories we gain impressions of what’s happening in Daniel and Claudette’s lives as well. My only quibble is I wish the author had included a section on Daniel’s first wife rather than so many peripheral characters towards the end. It felt like she was the only major character that remained sketchily drawn where the others were fully rounded. Multiple sections are told from Daniel’s point of view as he seems to have the most trouble finding where he really belongs. However, the only section which focuses on Claudette’s perspective is narrated in the second person so, although we’re entirely with her, we remain outside her consciousness. This distancing effect from her character is mirrored in another section where we’re given photographs of vital objects from her film career that are being auctioned, but which cleverly tell the story of her relationship with the cerebral Scandinavian film director Timou.

I think people who enjoy Anne Tyler’s books would also really appreciate this novel. O'Farrell has a similar way of realistically portraying the quirks, humour and heartache of family life. She also touches upon the complex way we come to define ourselves through the perspectives of others. In particular, she beautifully describes the way those who love us see us in an idealistic light which in turn reinforces our own self confidence: “What redemption there is in being loved: we are always our best selves when loved by another.” The story meaningfully shows how complex relationships can be and that we’ll inevitably follow lots of indirect paths in life, but how powerfully changed we are when honest connections are made. “This Must Be the Place” is a skilfully written novel with a lot of heart.