A darkly humorous novel about the trappings of generational wealth and the human cost of ambition...
The White Birch Hotel in the city of Tuffty Town teems with poorly kept secrets: detectives tapping lobby phones for news of banished royals; nervous lovers hiding traces of their trysts from prying eyes; captains of finance hatching plans in the thick haze of the smoking bar.
We find among this clamour Henry Huvvy: bon vivant, boulevardier, and mainstay of milieus both refined and ragtag. But when the lure of unattainable love drives him to build, with questionable tactics, a new empire of opulence, the fate of an erstwhile princess is set against his own.
White Birch introduces a vividly rendered cast of characters into a world at once familiar and delightfully uncanny.
A darkly humorous novel about the trappings of generational wealth and the human cost of ambition...
The White Birch Hotel in the city of Tuffty Town teems with poorly kept secrets: detectives tapping lobby phones for news of banished royals; nervous lovers hiding traces of their trysts from prying eyes; captains of finance hatching plans in the thick haze of the smoking bar.
We find among this clamour Henry Huvvy: bon vivant, boulevardier, and mainstay of milieus both refined and ragtag. But when the lure of unattainable love drives him to build, with questionable tactics, a new empire of opulence, the fate of an erstwhile princess is set against his own.
White Birch introduces a vividly rendered cast of characters into a world at once familiar and delightfully uncanny.
He awoke from a dream of owls. Gliding down from swirling skies, alighting on the parapets and balustrades of some remote collection of islands and bridges, the owls had fluttered and flailed, sending up squalls of feathers.
It was almost pleasant at first, the owls hooting gently, some even landing on his outstretched arm. But with little warning the dream became frightening. There were suddenly too many of them, he was surrounded, deafened by their incessant screeching; one sniped at him... he was awake.
Padding over to the window, he slipped a robe over his shoulders. The rain he remembered from the morning had stopped but in the dusk light the streets still glimmered, Douglas lamps shining star-like, the Garfieldâs Biscuits advertisement across the way muted in the mist. A double decker streetcar bearing the words Tysonâs Boots across its top level crawled by, while around it Tuffty Townâs Grand Centre intersection played out its various dramatic movements, its workaday pedestrian flow, its theatresâ red-carpet processions, its thread of limousines and carriages, its cycles of order and tumult.
He would need a bath, a fresh suit, sock garters, wallet, watch. Stopped. He shook it, set the time to the old clock tower visible from his desk window, and bounded down around three flights of thickly carpeted stairs to grab an overcoat and join the world, in the wind, on the street. He tapped his cane, smiled, and set off.
Above him, above the scuffling masses and clopping horses, above the streetcars and belching autos, loomed the hallmarks of Grand Centre, the advertisements painted over sidewalls and in some cases entire front edifices in green and white, pink and brown, red and gold: Jamesâs Stout, Oedwenwallop Cure Tonic, Gunn Whiskey, Luckyâs Candy and, of course, Garfieldâs: Garfieldâs Tea, Garfieldâs Cakes, Garfieldâs Sliced Bread.
On a dark and narrow side lane he often used as a shortcut, a sad sack figure approached from the opposite direction. The manâs shoulders slumped, he lumbered, he muttered to himself; his coat was ripped, his mouth bled, tears streaked over reddish cheeks.
Our young fellow was about to step off the walk and give the unfortunate soul uninhibited right of way when recognition lit his freshly shaven visage.
âLester!â
âOy,â said the other, flinching. âAh, itâs you, Henry, is it.â
âWhateverâs happened, Lester?â
âEh? Oh. Gave me the sack, they did.â
âWho, Dad?â
âNo, Wingrove.â
âBut why?â
This Lester sheepishly kicked at a loose cobble in the walk.
âYou know how it is, carrying on with a chambermaid and whatnot.â He brightened. âNice bit of crumpet, too.â
âOh, Lester, it canât be.â
âAfraid so, laddie. And I got into it with Roy on me way out.â
âBut you and Skutchy are friends!â
âAnd still is. But with me slandering the place to all and sundry on the way down the steps, well, Roy was forced to show me what-for and, you know, bloodied me lip a little and ripped me coat. Donât blame poor Roy. He didnât enjoy it.â
âI should hope not. Will you be all right, Lester?â
âOh, Iâll muddle through.â
Producing his pocketbook, the younger man removed several bills and held them out.
âTake it, Lester, for godâs sake.â
Lester hesitated.
âI mustnât,â he said finally.
âFor lordâs sake, donât let me stand here with my arm out like this. Bent my elbow fencing yesterday and it hurts like the devil.â
A smile from the beaten soul.
âAll right. Iâll pay it back, mind.â
âI wouldnât hear of it.â
Henry watched the ex-sous-chef limp off, briefly contemplating Fortuneâs swift vengeance. Then he clicked his heels and with a whistle emerged from the dark and narrow lane onto a brilliant avenue. Lined along its spotless sidewalks were fine restaurants and art galleries, its battlemented apartment buildings accented in baroque crown molding, ivory capped, iron gated, resplendent. There were watchmakers, hat shops and jewelry boutiques, and hidden here and there among them a disreputable bookmaker, as if to act as ballast.
A familiar figure emerged from one of these latter establishments, its familiar gait ambling toward Henry with a cane raised in friendly salute.
âHullo, Huvvy.â
Henry grinned.
âImagine my luck, finding a Galen Garfield aprowl at this time of night.â
âStepping out for a spot of breakfast?â
âSomething like that.â
âWhite Birch bound?â
âAye.â
âAccounts and whatever?â
âAye. And you look as if youâve just got in on something good.â
âOh, but I have!â
âDo tell.â
âYouâve heard it spoken of, this Ryadzyyn Princedom, what?â
âNo.â
âSome fabled monarchy toppled by a peopleâs rebellion and such?â
âNot a word. But go on.â
âThree hundred years of divine rule with nary but a tea shortage against it, when suddenly these uppity blokes bung in with an insurrection and a bloody coup. A firing squad and other untold atrocities.â
âBy geez, Gally, it doesnât sound like the Sermon Handicap on vicarage sports day, does it?â
âNot by a damn sight, Huvvy. But wouldnât you know, the whole thing hinges on a missing princess.â
âA what?â
âOdds are 20-1 she pops in from the fog of anarchy and sets things right again.â
âWell, hereâs a fiver says she doesnât. Safe as houses.â
âSay, you havenât seen Addy, have you?â
âNot since Ruckâs this morning, why?â
âHeâs run off wearing my topper.â
âOh, blast.â
âWith my pocket watch inside of it.â
âPish and pother. Isnât that just like Addy.â
âIsnât it. Well, see you, Huvvy.â
âSee you, Gally.â
Â
A few more steps and he stood before the White Birch.
Wet pavement in the glare of Douglas Gas streetlamps; a green awning over green-carpeted stairs; three steps leading up to a mahogany-panelled foyer; deep, wide, floral armchairs and brocaded benches in mauve; felt-topped cherrywood end tables.
And scurrying this way and that, guests young and old, royal and gentle, haughty and proud; the melancholic, anxious and crestfallen. The hopeful.
The blessed.
White Birch is a great book that you won't want to end once you've started! Often when enjoying books you want to fly through them, usually because you can't put them down. With this beautifully descriptive and vivid story, it's best to take time to savour every detail.
The story begins at the White Birch, a hotel in Tuffty Town. Here we meet a range of characters, including the story's main character Henry Huvvy. When Huvvy is introduced to his friend's fiance, Kate, he is smitten. He falls in love with her and sets out to do all he can to make her his, right under his friend's nose. With hopes of building a grand and luxurious hotel in Peacehaven, a place close to Kate's heart, Huvvy tries to win her affections with an empire built for them. As Huvvy undertakes this task, his decisions begin to affect the journey of a former princess in hiding.
The story is mostly told in the 3rd person, with some parts being told in the 1st. The book is split into three parts, with a break away from Huvvy in the second part to focus more on the princess, Penny.
Throughout there was a lot of detail, and a lot to take in, but the story was still fairly easy to follow. The descriptive detail, rather than detracting from the plot, pulls you further into the world of the story and helps to set the scene in your head. The vivid nature of the descriptions and the style of writing also gave the book a very movie-like feel, in that it's easy to imagine how these events would be played out on a screen.
There are characters which you'll like and characters who are difficult to like, but one thing for sure is that you will rarely read of a character in this book that you don't find interesting!
I would recommend White Birch to people looking for a story that they can take their time with and really get stuck into. Though there is a definite, and intriguing plot (or plots, rather), I'd also recommend this book to those who like stories that are more character-centred than action-packed.