Written as her submission for her MPhil in writing at the University of Glamorgan, The Mathematics of Love is Emma Darwin's first novel. And what a first novel it is.
The novel weaves together two lives: Stephen Fairhust, a Major returned from the brutality of Wellington's Peninsular War to a world he tries desperately to be once more a part of; and Anna Ware, a fifteen year old girl all but abandonded by her feckless mother, forced to live with her uncle and drunken grandmother in a delapidated ex-school. Through the medium of letters (and in this respect there are resonances with both 'Cloud Atlas' and 'Possession' here) a link develops between the two, and parallels form between two lives more than 150 years apart. Loves develop, often against society's expectation, and ghosts of past and future seem to cross boundaries. There are thematic parallels too: the ghastly form of Belle, who brutally lords it over Kersey, seems like a modern day Napoleon, whose invastions of the peninsula and consequent battles with Wellingtons men form the sickening vignettes spaced throughout the novel. Anna's interest in photography parallels with Lucy Durward's desire to render much that she sees through the medium of her sketch pad. A young boy appears, as if from nowhere, seeming to jump across time. Again and again we are made to think about the nature of time and how a good novellist can play with it.
But it is in the quality of the prose that the novel really sparkles. There are many novels written whose ideas are original and whose narratives have been meticulously planned. There are few which some close to the sharpness and clarity of Darwin's writing. Every word counts. There are passages of description which deserve rereading: Tom Greenshaw's bruises after being beaten are described as being 'dark as ink, spilt to make a picture of the boots and stones that had struck his soft flesh.' There are so many passages like this, ones that pull you up short, make you smile, give you shivers. In addition, the effortless switching between the formal, Austen-like prose (as good as, in my opinion) and the more informal prose of Anna Ware's world, makes for compelling reading. With very little other than a line break, Darwin is able to take us from one world to another. There are few novels which can do this so well. It took AS Byatt a long time to produce something similar, but Darwin has done it at her first attempt. David Mitchell at times seems forced in 'Cloud Atlas', but not so here. It works, brilliantly, and without a foot wrong.
Emma Darwin should be justly proud of this book. It is original, mature, intelligent and beautifully rendered. Like Lucy Durward (who I think might have something of the novel's author in her), Darwin is able to render a character and a scene with a few deft brush strokes, leaving us all the more illumuniated for it. An evocative and at times erotic novel, The Mathematics of Love deserves success, as its readers cannot fail but take something quite special from it.