Harvest Home by Dorothy Lambert

The past couple of weeks I’ve spent reading the new books by Dorothy Lambert that Dean Street Press are republishing under their Furrowed Middlebrow imprint. Those books come out today! Among them are gentle, funny stories, full of endearing characters, and beautiful descriptions of nature. It’s been a thrill to get to read these books ahead of their publication and review them. Many thanks to the publisher for making this possible! (You can find my reviews of All I Desire (1936), Scotch Mist (1936), and Staying Put (1941) here.) Sometimes I will enjoy a book, but not want to write one of these longer reviews for it. It takes work. An embarrassing amount of work, if we are being honest. But these books of Dorothy Lambert’s are worth the effort on my part. One of the joys of reviewing a book is getting to share my excitement with you! I want as many readers as possible to find these books and fall in love with them, like I have. The other lovely thing is that it enables me to spend a little more time in the world of that book. And Dorothy Lambert’s books are the kind I want to crawl into, roll around, and get comfortable in. So, without further ado, let’s get comfortable in the world of Harvest Home (1950).

Sir Giles’s chief concern is a lack of sufficient help for getting his harvest in. The labour he had during the war has dried up, and the local population is not large enough to produce emergency workers during haymaking and harvesting weeks. His daughter, Lucinda, has been begrudgingly allowed to go to London for a few days to visit her sister, Angela, who is celebrating her birthday. Angela is studying art and shares a flat with Priscilla, who works in a psychoanalyst’s office. Angela and Priscilla have a party and Lucinda, who is not used to drinking, winds up falling down drunk in the hallway, where a man Simon Kingsford finds her. (In her defence, it was also too hot and stuffy in the flat with too many people, many of them smoking, and her borrowed dress was too tight. An unbearable combination!) Quickly assessing the situation he whisks Lucinda up and deposits her in his apartment, then visits next door to explain what has happened. Everyone becomes fast friends. Priscilla comes up with the idea of having a Harvest Camp, inviting another friend of hers, Aylwin Vines, a poet who needs bucking up, to join them. Lucinda goes home the next day, and later the rest descend on Sir Giles and Lady Bradsole at the Place. What follows is a mad tale of romance, flirtation, psychoanalysis, making do, coincidence, misunderstandings, misdirections, and ghosts. Oh, and a bit of farming, too, though we aren’t privy to too much of that. 

The Place was a large red-brick house of Queen Anne date that obviously resented the rows of chicken-runs on the erstwhile croquet lawn, to say nothing of the battered tin buckets containing chicken food standing by the fine flight of steps that led to the handsome front door. Visitors felt it was a pity. “Such a fine place but no attempt to keep it up these days. No cash, of course, but chickens on the lawn— well! But then, Lady Bradsole always was a little odd.” (3)

But a decay in finances and domestic staff, meant a number of adjustments for the couple. “Sir Giles was an enthusiastic farmer and all his time and energy were spent on his cattle and crops.” While Lady Bradsole “never had to do anything but accept her housekeeper’s suggestions”. That is until the day her housekeeper left her. Now, she has part-time help from the gardener’s wife, and she does her own cooking and dusts only when necessary. 

As she told people, the first five years were the worst. After that, nothing seemed to matter. Things just went on—or they didn’t. Anyway, the Place survived and no one was actually poisoned. (3)

It’s a companionably chaotic household, complete with Kenneth the cat who seems to be the best fed member of the family. If anything is left out for a moment, Kenneth is at it. And remember, this book was published in 1950, and food in the UK was rationed until 1954. The cat eating the butter means there is only margarine to offer guests when they drop in. Which in a mad book like this, people are dropping in in need of feeding at all hours.

On one such occasion, Sybil Hargreaves, a bossy, know-it-all neighbour who makes a full-time job of dishing out advice and judgement, in equal portion, drops in at teatime. Etiquette says Lady Bradsole must offer Sybil the cake she has just made. We are privy to both Sybil’s surprise that the cake is not at all bad, and Lady Bradsole’s dismay as Sybil helps herself to yet another slice of the cake that was intended to be served at dinner. Of course, neither breathes a word of these thoughts to each other. When offered cake, Sybil reminds Lady Bradsole of a recent cake of hers that failed and Lady Bradsole silently accepts her neighbours reproof. All I can say is that Lady Bradsole is a saint, and Sybil gets a telling off at the end, but not nearly to the extent in which she deserves. 

I’ve gotten off base, like I knew I would. There are so many characters in this book and side plots that I wasn’t sure what the primary plot of the story was until I was almost finished the book. But I don’t feel I could do justice to all of the characters or plots and keep this review to a manageable length. 

What I feel I must address are the ghosts. I had reached about 55 percent of the way through this book when it momentarily lost me. In many novels, something happens at around the halfway mark to turn the story on its head. Usually it is something that concerns the main character. If things have been going their way up until that point then something comes along and knocks them for six. Likewise, if the main character has been facing setback after setback, then they finally have a win. Often all this happens at a big event where a good number of characters come crashing into each other and disrupting the main character’s life. But here’s the thing. Not every story follows this structure. Also, at 55% I still had no idea which character was the focus of the story. At the start I thought it was Lucinda, because she’s the character we travel with to London. For a moment, I thought it might be her sister, Angela, who she encourages to come home to help with the harvest. Then at 55 percent Aylwin seems to be the focus. Remember, Aylwin? He’s the poet friend of Priscilla’s who she is trying to help buck up through psychoanalysis, or what she calls psychoanalysis.

Aylwin visits one of the neighbours, an old woman with hermit-like tendencies, Miss Kingsford, who just happens to have the same last name as Richard. (He’s the one who rescued Lucinda when she was drunk at Angela’s birthday party.) Aylwin and Miss Kingsford have struck up a friendship, and Aylwin tells her all about himself. Her house is next to the crumbling walls of an ancient Priory, and oldest part of the house had once been part of the original Priory. Aylwin feels “a chilly eeriness in the atmosphere”, but dismisses it as he gets more comfortable with its owner. She tells him the place is haunted by her ancestors, and that she is proud of their ghosts (81). It’s not just Aylwin that feels a strange presence there, many others do as well, including Sir Giles, Priscilla, and a police inspector.

It’s at the halfway point in the book when there is a dramatic occurrence with a “grey mist” that seems to “obscure the room” (105). Someone shows up at the woman’s house, and there is a struggle. At this point, “[t]he mist appeared to Aylwin to grow dense and ‘They’ seemed to press closely round” (106). 

At this point I was thinking, what kind of book is this?! I was pretty sure the ghosts were real, but the ghosts felt out of place within the context of the rest of the story. Without revealing anything, I will just say, stick to it. I won’t say it all makes sense in the end, but it makes more sense. Look, I love a spooky book as much as the next person, but the ghosts threw me off. It distracted me from what this scene is doing within the context of the rest of the novel. And it’s actually brilliant. Lambert adds layer upon layer of misdirections, misunderstandings, confusion, creating a general state of chaos where no one knows if they are coming or going. My advice is to  just go with it and enjoy the ride.

I’ve only just realised I didn’t touch on the romances. And not all of them went as I had expected! There is lots of flirtation, some happily ever afters, and the suggestion of more in the future for these characters. Like I said, too many things happen in this book to cover all of them in one review. But I hope I’ve teased enough of them to encourage you to pick it up your own copy of Harvest Home. 

Like Sir Giles and Lady Bradsole home, the Place, this book is companionably chaotic, full of charmingly batty characters, and coincidence. I loved every minute in this world, even the ghosts, once I got used to them.

 

Thank you to Dean Street Press for kindly sending me a copy of Harvest Home for review. As always, all opinions on the book are my own.

All I Desire, Scotch Mist, Staying Put, and Harvest Home come out today with Dean Street Press’s Furrowed Middlebrow imprint.

*All page numbers are from the ebook and may not correspond to the paperback edition.

***If you got something out of this post, please consider subscribing to my blog. You can find the email sign up on the right hand side at the top of this page (on desktop version only), or click on the link here. You will receive a confirmation email in your inbox (or possibly your junk folder). Once you click to confirm your email address you will receive an email notification whenever a new blog post goes up. And, of course, you can unsubscribe at any time. Feel free to email me if you have any trouble subscribing, or if you just want to chat about books. I would love to hear from you! Whether you subscribe or not, I’m thankful you are here.***

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Staying Put by Dorothy Lambert

I’m on a roll with reading the four Dorothy Lambert books Dean Street Press are republishing on 1 July. I’ve now read three and I’m tantalisingly close to finishing the last one. (Here are links to my reviews of All I Desire (1936) and Scotch Mist (1936).) Scotch Mist was such a great book and ticked so many boxes for me. I loved the Scottish setting, there were lots of lovely descriptions of nature, and to top it off there was a wonderful cast of characters, some likeable ones and some that are so awful you can only laugh at them. The problem was that I loved that book so much it was with some trepidation that I picked up Staying Put (1941). How could it possibly compare to Scotch Mist?

It had the toughest act to follow, but I really did love this one, too! In setting it is nothing like Scotch Mist. Staying Put is set in the south east coast of England at the start of the Second World War. Broadly, this book is about how one village bears up under the strain of the war. There are the typical village events, planning meetings, fundraising events, sewing circles, church services, tea parties, but also spies, intrigue, dogfights overhead, bombs, and the damage that comes with them. But this is also a domestic novel, full of the long quiet moments between the episodes of chaos.

Beech Hill was half a mile from the village up a steep hill, and people were generally puffing a good deal when they arrived on the level gravelled square in front of the long low white house. (9)*

There, widow Lavinia Falcon lives with her two youngest children, 19-year-old Richard, home from Cambridge, and 17-year-old Felicity, who is sure to be a troublesome child, as she is said to be lovely. Lavinia’s eldest daughter, Rowena, is 22, living away from home, highly educated and efficient, but her most predominant characteristic is her snobbishness, something she shared with her father. 

The usual villagers who tend to get involved with Swansford events meet to discuss what they can do at home to help win the war. Lady Bulstrode, who fancies herself the lady of the manor and social benefactress, goes about taking over organising the local women for war work. From among them, she chooses Lavinia to be her deputy, not because she believes Lavinia would be the best at the job, but because Lavinia will do what she is told, won’t try to take over, or take credit for the work. Had Lady Bulstrode noticed the hint of humour in Lavinia’s “grey eyes and sensitive mouth” she wouldn’t have seen it as an asset (33). This throws Lavinia in the way of Ralph Thurston, Lady Bulstrode’s son from an earlier marriage. And we quickly see where this is going. Dorothy Lambert’s romances may be predictable, but it is no less enjoyable to see them play out. One might argue that how the couple finds their way to each other, is much more interesting than who the couple is.

There are these little clues about the characters that tell us early on who among them we should be rooting for. Take Lavinia’s daughters for instance. There is no one of Felicity’s own age and social class in Swansford, but she doesn’t want to leave home to find work that would “keep her out of mischief” (6).

[Felicity] declared herself perfectly happy, and was assured that one day something would turn up. Rowena frequently remarked that undoubtedly it would and be a shock to everyone if not actually a disgrace, as Felicity seemed to be without the proper sense of the difference in their own social position and that of common people, a sense that was so very well developed in Rowena that she was thoroughly unpopular in Swansford and enjoyed a splendid isolation when she was at home. (6)

We see a bit of this outdated belief in maintaining the separation of social classes in Lavinia, as well. But in someone older it seems much more understandable. After all, this book is set at the beginning of the Second World War. During the war people from different walks of life were being forced together in a spirit of camaraderie in a way they hadn’t been before. Lavinia is just one of many middle-aged people who are about to have their life disrupted by the war and their ideas of class disrupted, but that process hasn’t happened yet. The fact that Rowena is much more snobby than her mother, and is concerned not only with who her friends are, but how wealthy they are, really does not speak well of her when we see Felicity at the other end of the spectrum, not giving a fig what class her friends are from. By the end, Rowena does not come out well, while her mother, Lavinia, is taking small steps to change.

When Lavinia wants to ask a favour of someone, she invites them over for tea.

She considered that it was practically impossible to return a flat refusal no matter how doubtfully the scheme might be received, when one was gorged with a superabundance of rich chocolate cake and whipped cream and pâte-de-foie sandwiches. (10)

The villagers are aware of this, but still they come to tea willing to pay the penalty of a free meal. With chocolate cake and whipped cream on the menu, I think I would, too! This time, the issue is not a “wearisome campaign about drainage or garbage or something unsanitary” which one of the women remembers preceded the chocolate cake. (Okay. That might put me off my feed.) Lavinia wants to get everyone together to discuss what they can do in the village in the event of war. The Vicar notes Lavinia is “wearing her most determined ‘deeds, not words’ expression” (11). I couldn’t help but think we are supposed to make the connection to the suffrage movement, as this was the motto of the Women’s Social and Political Union. Despite being a youngish widow, Lavinia’s eldest child is 22 years old, so she would likely have been somewhere around her daughters’ ages when the First World War broke out. Even if Lavinia wasn’t a suffragette, I believe this suggestion that she is seen to be wearing the face of suffragette, with her “‘deeds, not words’ expression”, indicates to the reader that Lavinia is a good person, who is willing to do the work to keep the home fires burning and fight the war from the home front. 

When Germany advances on Poland, and war becomes an inevitability for Britain, Lavinia feels the blow. Although, Richard would prefer to carry on at Cambridge and for there to not be a war, he and Felicity are taken up with the excitement of change. Richard soon joins the Air Force and Felicity wishing she was old enough to join one of the services, becomes a telephone operator. Lavinia satisfies herself with staying put, as the title suggests. Even in a moment when the prospect of war is at risk of diminishing her, she finds something to hold on to.

It was difficult to believe, for the sun was still shining and below the brick steps the garden glowed with colour and scented the warm air. The valley was green and peaceful and the water by the white mill was a silver streak. “Well, at any rate,” she thought suddenly, “these things are the real things. They will remain whatever war may bring; we must remember that and hold on to it. I think it will help us to bear the rest.” (26)

It is in the simple pleasures, the real things that matter, that give Lavinia strength as the war goes on and her family and the community around her begin to feel the effects of rationing, bombing, and knowing loved ones are putting themselves in harm’s way for those at home. A year into the war, after an afternoon of heavy gunfire from battles going on in the air above, Lavinia cuts the same flowers from her garden as she did in peacetime, Michaelmas daisies and early chrysanthemums, while appreciating “the sunshine and the cloudless skies” (201). 

Lavinia is not thrilled by the excitement of being bombed, like Felicity is. But she does step up and carry on. When Beech Hill is first bombed in the middle of the night, she takes a moment to appreciate that Felicity is still young enough to be more concerned about the safety of her toy bears than her mother. It’s a sweet moment between the two. The mother admiring her daughter’s little quirks left over from childhood, even while trying find their way to safety through the rubble. 

There are moments of lightness and quiet amongst the wartime conditions of Swansford, but some of the funniest scenes happen while things are at their bleakest. I cackled at Rowena’s reaction to her fiancé having been killed. (And then I read the passage to my husband, and laughed hysterically, again.) Felicity’s bear family are lovingly carted around, and it’s delightfully fun. Mrs. Beckett, a woman in the village, reminded me of Miss Bates from Emma. She has these long monologues about the silliest things and asks advice from everyone, which of course needs to be weighed ad nauseam. As someone without humour, Lady Bulstrode is a character that is the subject of a lot of humour. What lengths she goes to in order to keep Lavinia and her son, Ralph, apart! 

But perhaps the most satisfying thing about this book is that the characters who are good and work hard are rewarded, and the real baddies meet disastrous ends. Because, don’t forget. As I mentioned at the outset, there are spies and intrigue, too! After all, Swansford is a village on the south east coast of England near a port. But a lot of that happens in the second half, and I really should save some surprises for you to discover yourself.

Thank you to Dean Street Press for kindly sending me a copy of Staying Put for review. As always, all opinions on the book are my own.

My review of Dorothy Lambert’s Harvest Home (1950), will be posted in the next couple of days. 

In the meantime, it’s not too late to preorder your copy of Staying Put. Staying Put, All I Desire, Scotch Mist, and Harvest Home are all coming out with Dean Street Press's Furrowed Middlebrow imprint on 1 July 2026.

*All page numbers are from the ebook and may not correspond to the paperback edition.

***If you got something out of this post, please consider subscribing to my blog. You can find the email sign up on the right hand side at the top of this page (on desktop version only), or click on the link here. You will receive a confirmation email in your inbox (or possibly your junk folder). Once you click to confirm your email address you will receive an email notification whenever a new blog post goes up. And, of course, you can unsubscribe at any time. Feel free to email me if you have any trouble subscribing, or if you just want to chat about books. I would love to hear from you! Whether you subscribe or not, I’m thankful you are here.***

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Scotch Mist by Dorothy Lambert

If you read my last review, you will know how much I loved Dorothy Lambert’s All I Desire (1936). It was such an easy book to love. The epitome of a gentle read. When I picked up Scotch Mist (1936), I was hoping for more of the same. I’m happy to report, I found Scotch Mist to be even more delightful. Not only does it contain the same sharp, witty dialogue that can be found in All I Desire, it also has many beautiful descriptions of the Scottish Highlands. In my review of All I Desire I compared Lambert’s writing to Molly Clavering, and if anything Scotch Mist is an even closer match to Clavering’s books. I’m most eager to pick up my third Lambert. But first, let me tell you about my newest favourite title from Dean Street Press, Scotch Mist. 

Thirty-four year old Alison lives with her friend Jane in a London apartment. Jane is an architect and Alison is a designer/artist. Together, they run a reasonably successful interior design company. It’s not been easy work. The women used to do the practical side of the business themselves, the painting, wallpapering, etc., but more recently they have been able to focus their efforts on the management and design side of things. 

There are only two clouds in the sky—but they are dark ones—and that is Alison’s mother and sister, who keep showing up uninvited to the women’s apartment and sponging off of Alison. Lady Caroline and her daughter Pamela fancy themselves part of the leisured class without actually having the money to carry it off. So when Alison manages to get her mother and sister off her hands, Jane encourages her to take a holiday. She loads up the car with practical clothes, brushes, paint, and canvas, and heads off to the Scottish Highlands in search of artistic inspiration and adventure.

When the mist lifts, Alison is surrounded by stunningly beautiful views, a handsome laird, who will whisk her off her feet—if she lets him—and his timeworn ancestral home turned hotel, just waiting for the right decorator to bring it back to life. 

On her first night at Glenlochart House she happens to be the only guest. To make certain that both the prickly housekeeper, Mrs. McCaig, who doesn’t approve of single ladies staying in a bachelor establishment, and the laird, Neil McPherson, know she isn’t a single lady on the lookout, she dresses accordingly.

[S]he attired herself in the form of evening dress that she and Jane had adopted when, in their professional capacity, they stayed in the houses they were engaged in decorating, or when they attended dinners or “At Homes” in the course of their career, which they took very seriously. It was something of a pose and an excellent advertisement. (34)*

When she comes down to dinner, Neil is astute enough to understand the gesture Alison is making with her outfit of “well-cut black velvet dinnerjacket and pleated white silk shirt worn with a neat black tie and straight close-fitting skirt to her ankles” (35). But if Alison is trying to disguise her femininity with a more masculine outfit than an ordinary evening dress, the outfit is a failure.

[H]e realised that with all her suggestion of masculine severity she conveyed also a feminine hint of allure that was probably quite unconscious on her part, for her intention was quite obviously to submerge the fact of her sex in a display of independence and claim for sex-equality. (35)

Ultimately, Neil decides she is more striking in this outfit than she would be in an “ordinary evening frock, and the hint of feminine vanity was provocative and disturbing” (35-36).

Neil is impressed by Alison, and she is not blind to his attractions, as she notices him from their first meeting on the misty moors, but they both keep their distance on this first evening. So perhaps Alison’s outfit has the desired effect, after all. But there is an instant connection between the two, an unsaid appreciation that gives the reader hope the two will find love despite not acknowledging to themselves they desire it. There is an occurrence early on when the housekeeper refers to Alison as “yon spinster body”, which at first Alison laughs at, but when Neil, finding it funny, casually repeats the remark, Alison is quietly hurt (40). Spinster is a name she can revel in as long as she doesn’t feel she is the butt of a joke.

Early on in the novel, Neil and Alison go for a walk over the high moors behind the house. Alison admires the views, mapping out plans for which ones she will paint, which is the purpose of her trip, to make paintings Jane and her will sell to their interior design clients, and be able to afford to stay in “this paradise” (43). Her silence provides Neil with opportunity to observe her unnoticed. 

It was rough going, steep glens to scramble down and climb up, rocks to surmount, and finally the long slope down to the road again. Alison was a good walker. She had a swinging stride that crossed the moorland with ease. She was part of it all. Her tweed skirt was sensible, and she wore a gay Fair Isle jumper, for the wind was keen in spite of the sunshine. The sun glinted on her red-gold hair, ruffled by the wind, and she was flushed and eager-looking and feminine, and more attractive than Neil thought possible. (44)

I believe it is in this moment that Neil falls in love with Alison. She moves across the moors “with ease” and she is “part of it all”. She fits. With her sensible clothes and flushed face, she suits the place. I think the deeper meaning behind this passage is that Neil not only finds her attractive in this setting, but as we are first introduced to him on the moors “coming out of the mist so suddenly”, he is part of the landscape, too (29). They both fit. And if they both fit the landscape belonging to Neil’s ancestral home, it isn’t much of a stretch to see that the two will fit each other, too.

But as Shakespeare so aptly wrote, “the course of true love never did run smooth”, and there are a number of misunderstandings and distractions to keep the two apart. This book is full of characters that are intended to make you laugh and to highlight how much of a catch both Alison and Neil are. 

On Alison’s second day at Glenlochart House, a father and son arrive for the fishing, as the clientele at this hotel generally do. Andrew Tosh and his son Roddy are so abysmal that when they showed up I knew Alison’s mother and sister were bound to descend on Glenlochart House eventually, too. In a letter to Jane, Alison describes the Toshes as such:

‘Two simply dreadful people arrived this afternoon, father and son. I’ve hardly spoken to the old man, but he offered me champagne, unless I could suggest something better. By that time, however, I had had more than enough of Roddy (the son), a terrible young man who tells one about all his wealth and what he does with it.’ (71) 

They sound like the perfect pair for Lady Caroline and Pamela. Pamela’s cruise has fallen through when she is forced to quarantine because one of her party contracts measles and she winds up destitute at Jane and Alison’s apartment. Lo and behold, Pamela winds up reading the letter Alison has written to Jane. The Highlands sound like the perfect place to quarantine, not that Pamela has any other option, but to follow Alison to Scotland, when Jane throws her out. I won’t go into how Lady Caroline winds up on the doorstep of Glenlochart House too, as the circumstances are much too crazy to be explained succinctly. Besides, experiencing the whole insane situation first hand as it plays out is much more fun. Lambert’s flair for situational humour is just one of the aspects of her writing that make this book a delight from start to finish.

To close, I want to share what is my favourite passage from the book. More than the descriptions of nature, the witty banter, the funny situations, I love this part because it captures something I have felt myself. 

The wonder of the hours on the loch would be the most beautiful memory of her life, so beautiful to be almost a pain. That was how she always felt about beauty. The possibility of happiness she had never considered. (208)

Thank you to Dean Street Press for kindly sending me a copy of Scotch Mist for review. As always, all opinions on the book are my own.

My review of Dorothy Lampert’s Staying Put (1941), will be posted in a couple of days. Hope to see you then! In the meantime, it’s not too late to preorder your copy of Scotch Mist. Scotch Mist, All I Desire, Staying Put, and Harvest Home are being republished under Dean Street Press's Furrowed Middlebrow imprint on 1 July 2026.

*All page numbers are from the ebook and may not correspond to the paperback edition.

***If you got something out of this post, please consider subscribing to my blog. You can find the email sign up on the right hand side at the top of this page (on desktop version only), or click on the link here. You will receive a confirmation email in your inbox (or possibly your junk folder). Once you click to confirm your email address you will receive an email notification whenever a new blog post goes up. And, of course, you can unsubscribe at any time. Feel free to email me if you have any trouble subscribing, or if you just want to chat about books. I would love to hear from you! Whether you subscribe or not, I’m thankful you are here.***

This blog post contains affiliate links for Blackwell’s. As a Blackwell’s Affiliate, I may receive a small commission, at no additional cost to you, if you decide to make a purchase through one of the links on my website. Thank you for your support!

All I Desire by Dorothy Lambert

It’s been a long time since I’ve read a book that was as easy to enjoy as Dorothy Lambert’s All I Desire (1936). Hermia Carlisle retreats to a small village in southern England with the mistaken belief she will be able to lead a quiet life where she can get on with her writing career. But how could she have known that there she would come across not one, but two, people from her past. With the help of her daughter Jeremy—yes, you read that correctly—Hermia has a successful writing career, but one thing after another seems to distract her from her writing. In amongst the chaos, she still manages to get swept away by the current “situation” she is working out in her head. Hermia’s writing is inspired by these “situations”. It’s no wonder. Her life seems to always have been full of the most unbelievable situations, which lend well to her stories.

This book was light and frothy, without being annoyingly so. The little world of Holm Street was such a delightful and idyllic place to spend time. It was such fun to get swept up in all the drama that seems to arise out of almost nothing. Although, it did make me wonder why anyone would think a small little community would be the right place to go looking for peace and quiet! In Holm Street, there is always something going on. Between teas, the cricket, meetings of the women’s institute, village fêtes, plays, and neighbours stopping by at any odd hour, not to mention people from one’s past dropping in—as if out of the sky—to stir things up, it’s a wonder Hermia manages to get any writing done.

Not that she writes the books herself, exactly. We find out early on that Jeremy, who acts as her mother’s secretary/personal assistant/housekeeper cleans her mother’s books up, rewriting them to help them land with a more modern readership. Jeremy just drops that truth bomb into a conversation with her mother, and Hermia is shocked. She believed Jeremy was simply typing her novels up for her. Meanwhile, Jeremy has been rewriting Hermia’s books without her knowledge! Hermia isn’t entirely pleased to hear that she essentially writes situations which her daughter reworks, but she must admit, book sales have risen significantly since Jeremy started working with her.

Mother and daughter cause quite the stir amongst their fellow villagers. When Jeremy shows up to watch the village cricket match, she is snubbed by one of the other young women for not wearing a hat or stockings and looking “so common, just like a beachcomber”.

It was cricket that Jeremy came to watch, and the spectators did not interest her in the slightest degree. Being an astute young person she was perfectly aware of the interest she had created. Mrs. Fenwick’s disapproval made her chuckle. Mrs. Marsh’s share of curiosity, Alberta’s indifference, Chrissie’s deliberate rudeness and Daphne Fenwick’s hostility were all noted and dismissed. “Washed out!” Jeremy’s shoulder twitched in a faint shrug, and she turned her back on Holm Street society. (39)*

This village community which is inhabited by an eclectic array of characters is described with a wonderful sense of humour. Dorothy Lambert’s writing reminded me a lot of another Furrowed Middlebrow author I love, Molly Clavering. If you enjoy Clavering’s writing, I feel sure you will appreciate Lambert’s. I think Clavering’s writing is a bit more descriptive in terms of scene setting, while Lambert’s prose has such ease that it feels deceptively simple. I have no doubt it takes a lot of effort and skill to write a book that flows as well as this one does.

That isn’t to say that Lambert doesn’t write beautiful descriptions, as well as sharp dialogue. The following passage provides a positively delicious description of the landscape when Ian, a mechanic at the local garage, drops Jeremy’s car off.

Later that evening lan cleaned and polished the baby car and drove it to the Manor. The rain had ceased and the mass of storm clouds was dispersing in feathery trails over a clear greeny-blue sky, while the evening sunshine was pale and watery. The road was covered with wide pools of water here and there, and Ian drove carefully to avoid getting the nicely- cleaned car mud-splashed. The gate was open and he drove straight in and up the drive, which was still weed-grown and untidy. The old red-brick house had climbing roses hanging on its walls, and a straggling mass of yellow honeysuckle grew round the hall door, scenting the air with its lovely fragrance. The big trees on the lawn dripped heavily from their rain-soaked foliage, and the grass was sodden. The long shadows lay across the green grass, and Ian, who was susceptible to atmosphere, felt oddly thrilled at the beauty of the quiet scene—almost, he thought, one of enchantment, the tall trees so dark against the clear, pale sky, the grass in the deserted garden so vividly green with the fingers of yellow sunlight slanting across the masses of untidy rambler-roses and making them uncannily bright and colourful.” (69)

Isn’t that lovely?! Lambert beautifully sets the scene for a meaningful moment between Ian and Jeremy. 

But as I said, Lambert is great at writing sharp, witty dialogue, too. There is a particularly funny interaction between the judgmental Mrs. Marsh and the vicar, which looks as though it could last indefinitely, as Mrs. Marsh is too interested in talking about Holm Street’s newest inhabitants to pick up on social cues. Thank goodness, Mr. Bunyard, the local carpenter, comes to the vicar’s rescue.

“There!” said Mr. Bunyard suddenly, pointing. “Over there in that car, ma’am—that’s her.” [meaning Hermia]

A car was travelling slowly along the road across the Green, and Mrs. Marsh turned and scuttled away to the corner in order to see the occupant as it passed.

“Oh,” remarked the Vicar, “so that really is the person who is causing so much excitement.” Mr. Bunyard made a gesture of indifference.

“Bless you, sir, I don’t know who it is, but it seemed a good way to escape. Mrs. Marsh, she’s a bit of a sticker.”

“Oh, good egg!” exclaimed the Vicar delightedly. “You’re a man of resource, Bunyard, a man of resource!” (23)

There are too many funny interactions in this book to count. It was a joy to be immersed in all of the little tiffs and squabbles between these characters.

I always enjoy learning more about the authors Dean Street Press republishes through reading the introductions they publish alongside. Elizabeth Crawford provides this insight into Lambert,

We know nothing of Dorothy’s life with her parents, sister, one surviving brother and three servants in the ‘big house’ of Roskeen, nor anything of her education. However, from her Irish novels one might deduce that she relished an outdoor life, felt comfortable with neighbours from all levels of society, and had a hearty appetite for life’s possibilities. (8)

The other tidbit I gleaned from Crawford’s introduction is that Lambert, whose life spanned the years 1884 to 1967, published her first book, Redfern M.F.H. (1929), when she was forty-five years old. I always find it encouraging when I hear about a writer publishing their first book in the second half of their life. (It means there is still hope for the rest of us who desire to see their stories in print, but haven’t yet accomplished the feat!) Lambert went on to publish twenty-seven books over twenty-four years. 

This is the first Dorothy Lambert book I have read and it won’t be my last. Thankfully, it is among four of this author’s books which are being republished on 1 July 2026 by Dean Street Press under their Furrowed Middlebrow imprint. The other titles are Scotch Mist (1936), Staying Put (1941), and Harvest Home (1950), all of which I will be reviewing in upcoming posts. Back in 2020 Dean Street Press republished another of Lambert’s novels, Much Dithering (1938), which I have yet to get my hands on, but I will no doubt want to read if her other books are anything like All I Desire.

Thank you to Dean Street Press for kindly sending me a copy of All I Desire for review. As always, all opinions on the book are my own.

My review of Dorothy Lambert’s Scotch Mist will be posted tomorrow. Hope to see you then!

*All page numbers are from the ebook and may not correspond to the paperback edition.

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