
Set against the backdrop of Montverre, a boarding school where elite intellects study the complex intricacies of the ‘Grand Jeu’, this book focusses on the moments where two lives intertwine. Claire Dryden is Magister Ludi, master of the ‘Grand Jeu’ and first ever woman admitted into the mysteries of Montverre. Leo Martin was the Minister for Culture until he dared to disagree when his Party started taking things one extreme too far; returned to his roots in exile Leo struggles to find a place and a purpose for himself at Montverre. Apparent strangers, the two struggling professionals may share more secrets of the past than they realise.
I expected to love this book and I was not disappointed. True to style, Bridget Collins has woven a tense tale of mystery and intrigue. The hints of her big reveal are masterfully worked throughout the novel in a way that had me convinced I had sussed out a big secret and then fully doubting myself by the next chapter. When the narrative finally revealed its secrets I found myself exhilarated. As well as an intense shock factor, each of these moments is injected with a heart-wrenching depth of emotion. It is interesting that only the main characters seem to display any emotion in this novel. Whilst some might consider this a flaw, I found that it served to emphasise the intensity of the emotions which were present.
One of the most clever aspects about this book are the three storylines running seamlessly alongside each other. There is the past and the present, interrupting each other at the perfect moments of suspense and emotion. And there is ‘the rat’, a gothic character whose storyline is uninterpretable for a large part of the novel. The total bafflement of this narrative thread gave me an extra reason not to put this book down: not that I needed an extra reason. Whilst I did somewhat guess how the main plot points would unfold, I was mostly in the dark about how this particular tangent would be important and I was impressively shocked at the moment where it all came together.
