Women’s Prize 2018: The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock
“It is the size of an infant, and like an infant its ribcage is delicate and pathetic beneath its parchment skin, and its head is large, and its fists are drawn up to its face.”
Imogen Hermes Gowar’s debut novel The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock has probably the best-looking cover on the Women’s Prize for Fiction shortlist this year (closely followed by the hardback version of Sing, Unburied, Sing). But despite this, and the mass of positive reviews it has received, I was a bit apprehensive about whether or not this one would be for me. 1. it’s historical fiction, which I generally don’t get on with, and 2. it is kind of long (if you consider 484 pages long, which I do). I tend to prefer short, sharp fiction. But the good thing about reading the shortlist is that it’s forced me to read books I might have not wanted to, and for the most part I found this a pleasant read.
I usually avoid historical fiction because it can feel overloaded with exposition: descriptions of settings, contexts and factual details intended to ground the narrative in a particular time period, and make sure that all readers are on the same page (pun intended). Sometimes it just feels to forced or overdone, and downright boring. I don’t enjoy long, flowery sentences or pages of description — but I was actually really pleasantly surprised with the style of The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock. For a novel so saturated with detail — and Hermes Gowar has clearly done her research — it didn’t drag at all. And, although I didn’t find myself particularly compelled by the plot, the reading experience was, because of her style, altogether enjoyable.
“And Sukie finds herself racked with great distress for what is she but a spare daughter, a fortuitous pair of hands to be sent wherever life cannot be managed? She strives always for harmony, for order, for contentment — that is her usefulness — but where it is restored, her usefulness ends.”
On a similar note, the other reason I thought I wouldn’t enjoy this novel — it being too long — was also proved wrong. In fact I almost wish it were longer, as it would’ve improved the pacing. I didn’t find myself wishing chapters away; I would sit down to read and realise that 100 pages had gone by. So that’s a good sign.
So far, so good. However, the actual plot left a lot to be desired, in my opinion — and particularly in the second half. This story follows Jonah Hancock — a merchant who, early into the story, comes into possession of a mermaid — and Angelica Neal, a high-class courtesan, newly companionless after the death of her previous protector. There wasn’t anything in particular about the plot that felt wrong to me, but it didn’t feel compelling at all. I honestly can’t say I cared much about any of the characters’ outcomes.
And, as mentioned before, the pacing just did not work. The first 200 pages were slow, but delightful, and I really enjoyed Hermes Gowar taking me on a little tour of 18th century London. But then the pace suddenly sped up and I got lost in the different subplots. I couldn’t work out what was meant to be happening, and then within the last 50 pages all of the loose ends got tied up far too quickly in what felt like a very rushed manner.
Overall, I enjoyed The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock fine, and it’s shown me what historical fiction can do well. And for a debut, this novel is hugely impressive and Hermes Gowar is clearly talented. Yet, I don’t think it’ll be one that sticks with me, and I can’t see it winning the Women’s Prize on Wednesday.
