Any book that makes you question humanity’s morality, and where it stems from, is a winner in my eyes. Catherine Chidgey not only achieves that, but goes far beyond. Her writing challenges you as a reader while giving you the space to think, to pause, and to draw your own conclusions. It’s thought-provoking without being overbearing.

This novel follows the lives of three boys, triplets named Vincent, Lawrence, and William, who live in a secluded New Forest home as part of the government’s Sycamore Scheme in 1979 England. They are raised by three mothers: Mother Morning, Mother Afternoon, and Mother Night. A central feature of the story is the presence of three books that shape the boys’ lives: The Book of Dreams, where their nightmares are recorded; The Book of Knowledge, which contains their lessons; and The Book of Guilt, where their sins are written down. This is a world where some lives are valued less than others, but why?

One of the things this novel does particularly well is subtlety. From the very beginning, it gently signals that it’s not quite following the same historical path as our own, dropping in quiet untruths. It’s delicate but intentional, immediately putting you on edge and making you question everything you’re told.

The depth of character in this novel is impressive, especially in how Chidgey writes the relationship between the brothers. Though they’re triplets, they never blur into one another. Each boy stands out as a stark contrast to the others, which makes their dynamic all the more compelling. I also appreciated how she writes from a child’s perspective. It’s one of the hardest things to get right, too often, children are either overly simplified or made to sound like miniature adults. But Chidgey finds that sweet spot. She captures the way children think: how they piece together their world, how much they actually understand at a young age, and how they cling to certain thoughts with a persistence we often underestimate.

All of this is made possible by Chidgey’s richly descriptive language. Even in something as simple as describing household items, her attention to detail is striking. She’s incredibly aware of the setting.

‘We studied the boy on the tiny scrap of paper, his forehead translucent where the oil had soaked through, as if we might be able to see right inside him to his secret thoughts.’

My first reaction, just from reading the blurb, was: this sounds very similar to Kazuo Ishiguro’s ‘Never Let Me Go’, but darker, more sinister, and far more unsettling. Like Ishiguro, Chidgey builds an alternative world that quietly interrogates the same profound questions: where do morality, goodness, and evil come from? It dives deep into the classic nature versus nurture debate: is evil something we’re born with, or something we learn?

I genuinely think this is the kind of novel that could appeal to a wide range of readers, which might sound like a bit of a cop-out, I know, but it’s true. The themes are so expansive, and there’s something universally gripping about being challenged and kept on edge by a story.

That said, Chidgey’s writing is undeniably descriptive, beautifully so, but at times, it can feel a little heavy. If you’re reading large sections in one sitting, you might find yourself wishing she’d get to the point sooner. She often nails an image or emotion, then lingers on it longer than necessary. But honestly, that’s more a matter of personal taste than a real flaw. If you prefer lean, punchy prose, this might not be your kind of book, but if you enjoy rich, lingering descriptions, then you’ll be right at home.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book and really appreciated the depth and perspective it offered. It was clever in how it blended reality with elements of the fantastical or unbelievable, but is it really that unbelievable? The themes and questions it raises are ones we, as a society, have absolutely faced. It’s refreshing to see them explored so plainly in a novel like this. I love a story that turns the reader into a theorist. In many ways, the entire book feels like a lesson in ethics. As readers, we end up mirroring the boys and everyone else in the story in how we question, feel, and respond.

Etienne Hawkins

This book (like every other book in print) in available from the Wantage Bookshop and the Hungerford Bookshop. If not in stock, in can generally be ordered for the following day.