Just Had to Share

I wasn't going to post again until Sunday or Monday.

I have a few days off and a few writing projects I'd like to accomplish: reading through and formatting the submissions for WriteOn Joliet's 2019 anthology (spent yesterday working on it), Phyllis' memoir, the werewolf story, and Cornell Dyer and the Never Robbers.

But then my BryonySeries "super fan" tagged me in her review of the fourth installment of Before the Blood this morning, and I didn't feel like waiting to share. Enjoy!

5.0 out of 5 stars

This precursor to the Bryony series solves some mysteries and creates even more

July 3, 2019

Verified Purchase

Before the Blood – Henry Matthews” (BTB) is one of five sequels to the author’s “Bryony” trilogy - a series I’ve read multiple times.

Of all of the author's books I've reviewed, this one required the most thought. BTB is so many things and so filled with ideas that make you think it's difficult to summarize the book.

In the Bryony trilogy, Henry Matthews was a minor character with major influence, both on protagonist Melissa Marchellis and the reader. Though it’s technically correct to say Henry was a Victorian vampire, the term doesn’t come close to describing his complexity. Superficially, he’s charming, intelligent and debonair. Henry played the pretty boy well. However, his façade conceals a man with depth and unusual loyalty.

BTB solves the mysteries of Henry Matthews quite satisfactorily. It explains the dichotomy between his sophistication and his in-your-face brashness. In Bryony, the reader is given the impression that Henry is a well-to-do ladies’ man who hails from old money. And while that’s the truth, it’s certainly not the whole truth. This, I believe, is the crux of the book.

The prequel opens with a wealthy, young girl - Louisa Girard - being spirited away from her doting brother by a gypsy street musician. One moment, she’s there; the next she’s gone. Her brother, Lawrence Girard spends the remainder of his life immersed in guilt, blaming himself for the abduction and obsessing over her fate.

Meanwhile, Louisa and her gypsy, Harold Matthews, produce offspring who know nothing of their mother's illustrious past. She calls herself Caroline and never confides the circumstances surrounding their birth. In other words, their lives are a mystery and maybe a lie.

The Matthews family lives in abject poverty and Carolyn grows old and worn before her time. Yet, everyone who knows her describes Carolina as “always happy.”

Why the privileged child of a filthy rich family would voluntarily seek out a life of penury is part of the great mystery of this book. This very conundrum is shared in “Before the Blood: John Simons.” Still, in John Simons’ case we have a background story that provides a solid reason why he rejected his father’s fortune. In this tale, the reader is left to piece together nebulous clues.

Henry is born a sickly baby who grows into a sickly child. He's doted upon by his sisters and mother, as they struggle to keep him from safe from the Grim Reaper. The future is bleak for the family, and especially so for the scrawny, asthmatic boy.

Lawrence Girard never gives up on trying to find his sister. And one day, life changes drastically for young Henry. He learns his true identity and the circumstances of his parents’ “courtship.” He evolves into the Henry Matthews from the Bryony trilogy.

The tone and mood of this biography differs from the other three prequels. It’s a story that peels away the veneer of civility and gentility to reveal the animal nature that drives us all: rich and poor. Henry's appearance belies his depth. He hobnobs, flirts and immerses himself with the richest of the rich. In some respects he appears as nothing more than a flippant pretty boy. Yet, there are clues that reveal great depth and compassion. Henry is never exactly what he seems. He's always torn.

And like all primary characters in the series, Henry makes a fatal mistake.

The author brilliantly demonstrates that there really is no such creature as “The Good Old Days.” Societal issues we face today are no different from those of yesteryear. The book boldly and shamelessly addresses homosexuality, statutory rape, exploitation of the poor and other social issues that remain unresolved today.

Philosophically, this may well be the prequel with the most depth. There is nothing pretty or romantic about the poverty portrayed or the lengths some will go to escape. On the other hand, there are also those, like Carolyn, who just as desperately flee from a seemingly idyllic life. For that alone, this book is well worth a read for its own merit. As part of the larger Bryony series, it's absolutely priceless.