Review- The Darling Strumpet

My previous post contained a coil- which book to read first?

Considering its two in the morning, and I've just closed the final page of strumpetty goodness I'm afraid the last post is moot. 

The Darling Strumpet by Gillian Bagwell is not my usual historical fiction fare. I gravitate to  the precision of Cornwell, the innocence of Heyer and the period masterpieces of Austen, the Brontës, Montgomery and Alcott. Dickens, too if I can get a solid block of time in which to read- sadly I find him too dense to dip in and out of. 

It's a lovely bawdy book, shocking in its depictions of the young Nell Gwynne losing her virginity at ten, moving where it should be and funny in all the right places- I especially enjoyed the Rochester scene, which was greatly improved by hearing it read out by the trio of Bagwell, Gabaldon and Cornwell from the clip in post previous. It didn't help that my daft skull kept putting Jane Eyre's Mr. Rochester in place of the proper one. Very odd mix there. 

The Darling Strumpet follows the aforementioned Nell Gwynne from the age of ten to her death, aged around forty as near as my horrid maths will take me. We follow her from her beginnings as an oyster wench, all the way to the heights of society as one of King Charles II's many mistresses. Her joy at becoming London's leading actress, the gut wrenching loss of her youngest, and all the little pleasures on between become quite important to us on our journey with Nell. 

By the end, as Nell is ageing, the King has popped his clogs and Sir Christopher Wren's London is taking shape I feel that perhaps the writing was a little rushed- it's pretty much a succession of one death after the other, with little break. Nell faints a lot, her sister Rose does much hand holding and there are more funerals than are strictly enjoyable. Unless you like funerals- I can't say I do although I'm partial to a nice cemetery. 

Overall I did enjoy The Darling Strumpet- enough to read until two, regardless of the busy day ahead and the likelihood of an early morning. It's not a dense, serious book to be dissected in the manner of Little Dorritt but a lewd, rude and oddly moving journey through the mid to late 1600's in the footsteps of a rather famous woman. 

Should you read it? 

Stupid question, of course you bloody should. Just don't let your mum catch you, because there's nothing more awkward than knowing that she knows you read books with lots of sex and rude words.