Nosy Neighbors, by Freya Sampson

I generally find this kind of cartoon cover unappealing; the colors feel a bit too loud and the design a bit too childisih. However, I was intrigued enough by the title to read the blurb, which sold me on the premise, and by that to read a sample, which sold me on the writing voice. As I have not had much luck with Berkley ARCs, I requested it with a mental “what the hell!” shrug, and was shocked to be approved for it.

And so, here we are.

Beware: death of a child; addiction; parental neglect; mental health issues; grief; suicide; have tissues at the ready.

Nosy Neighbors, by Freya Sampson

I have never, to my knowledge, read anything by this author, but as I read the sample, the writing voice won me over immediately. As I made the avid reader mistake of starting the book late on a Friday night, reading all 380+ pages in one long session, until the wee hours of Saturday morning, I can say that this will not be the only one of Ms Sampson’s books I’ll read.

The novel is narrated in third person, past tense, from the points of view of two very different women, who dislike and distrust each other from the moment they meet–until circumstances force them to face, and come to terms with, their own pasts as they work together towards a common goal, discovering how much more they have in common along the way.

However, it would be a disservice to the novel to say that it’s just a mystery, or just about these two women, or about an old house slated for demolition, or a few weeks one summer; this is a story about love and guilt, bitterness and forgiveness, endings and the beginnings that can grow from them.

The publisher sets the novel up thusly:

Nothing brings neighbors together like someone else’s secrets… At Shelley House, the walls have ears, and they’re attached to a ragtag duo of busybodies ready to pry, snoop, and generally annoy their neighbors into solving a crime.
 
Seventy-seven-year-old Dorothy Darling has lived in Shelley House longer than any of the other residents, and if you take their word for it, she’s as cantankerous as they come. But Dorothy has her reasons for spying. And none of them require justifying herself to Kat Bennett. 
 
Twenty-five-year-old Kat has never known a place where she felt truly at home, and crumbling Shelley House is no different. Her neighbors find her prickly and unapproachable, but beneath her tough exterior, Kat’s plagued by a guilty secret from her past.
 
When their apartments face demolition, sworn enemies Kat and Dorothy agree on just one thing: they must save their historic building. But when someone plays dirty—and one of the residents is viciously taken down—Dorothy and Kat seek justice. The police close the investigation too soon, leaving it up to the unlikely amateur sleuths—with a playful Jack Russell terrier at their side—to restore peace in their community

From the first page, the reader is immersed in the world the characters inhabit: an old and poorly maintained Victorian house in a small, quaint and quiet English town, a couple of hours from London by train. (I learned later that this setting is shared with the author’s debut novel, The Last Library–see footnote ¹)

Language nerdery aside: am I salty about the changed spelling of “neighbours” in the title for the U.S. edition; this is a very British book about British people in an intrinsically British setting, and there are a number of plot points that hinge on UK legalities around housing, after all.

At first, the author develops her characters through their actions; Dorothy is very lonely, set in her ways, and unhappy–but she doesn’t spend any time thinking about these things. The kind of bitter old spinster who wears pearls to clean her flat and sit by the window to watch her neighbors coming and going about their lives outside Shelley House; seemingly devoting her life entirely to annoying the other tenants and the local officials alike, by constantly noting and calling attention to any and all infractions of both social norms and public order, Dorothy exists in a world firmly constrained by rigid routine and determined self isolation.

Into this orderly world crashes Kat; over half a century younger, but just as bitter as Dorothy, far angrier, and just as unwilling to consider why or modify her behavior. Always ready to move on at a moment’s notice, Kat knows that it’s best to make no connections and nurture no ties. The room she’s subletting–illegaly, Dorothy is quick to point out–is simply a place to sleep for a while, and the other tenants at Shelley’s House will remain indifferent strangers to her, until the time comes to move on once more.

At least, that was the plan, but both Joseph Chambers, her temporary landlord, and Reggie, his dog, go out of their way to make her feel welcome and appreciated, so when Joseph is attacked at his home, Kat stays. At first, just to take care of Reggie until Joseph is well enough to come home, but soon Kat finds herself drawn into Dorothy’s determined investigation of the incident: who hurt Joseph, and is the attack connected to the imminent eviction of all of Shelley’s House residents?

This is the ostensible mystery in the blurb, of course, but not by far the most important aspect of the novel–though I hasten to say that, despite a last minute revelation to finish tying all the loose ends, I consider this a fair play mystery, as all the clues but one are presented one by one over the course of the narrative.

The main storyline is, of course, the connection that grows between these two women over the course of their investigations, and how it changes them. Little by little, through false starts and setbacks, Dorothy and Kat learn to work together, then to trust and finally care for each other.

And as they do, they manage to create a small community of people out of most of the other residents at Shelley’s House: Joseph, the kind tenant who’s determined to save their home; Omar, recently widowed, grieving and struggling to raise teenaged Ayeesha, who’s also grieving; Gloria, the serially-monogamous single woman whose relationships always end badly, and Thomasz, the rough and gruff biker-slash-mountain man lookalike with the ferocious (and often malodorous dog) that often terrorizes poor Reggie.

All these characters and more are seen through the lens of Dorothy’s or Kat’s personal experiences, but the author manages to infuse most of them with lives, backstories, motivations and personalities of their own, all of which makes their coming together for a common goal all the most enjoyable. There is, of course, a touch of *batteries not included in this setup, what with six out of seven tenants fighting to keep their home safe from the nefarious landlord, who wants to tear it down in order to build cheap and crowded flats. (see footnote ²)

Here I must note the change in narrative voice between the chapters, depending on whose point of view we are in, as it makes each of their personalities so tangible and real.

Regular readers know I am not much of a women’s fiction reader (for many a reason, starting with the word “women’s” in there); novels like this one make it worth venturing forth into the genre.

This is a book about relationships and personal growth, and as such, it has the same beats as a genre romance, including a third act bleak moment and separation, a triumphant resolution, and a satisfying epilogue. (There are also romantic relationships growing between several pairings, all with their own version of the traditional “happy ever after”, but these aren’t the raison d’être of the book.)

The heart of the story is its examination of love and grief and guilt and regret, and how they can shape a life, as much as kindness and a moment of generosity can alter its course. (Heed thee the warnings above.) There is terrible heartbreak behind Dorothy’s often bizarre behavior, and painfully learned lessons behind Kat’s determined detachment, and I’ll confess that I sobbed–ugly cried, in fact–over several passages.

Which of course made the resolution and reconciliations to follow all the sweeter.

Nosy Neighbors gets 9.25 out o 10

* * * *

¹ That book was published as The Last Library in the U.K., and in the U.S. as The Last Chance Library, and how I wish U.S. publishers would stop making the written world smaller for readers by “Americanizing” everything.

² For those among my audience who may be too young, it’s a 1987 film, produced by Steve Spielberg and directed by Matthew Robbins (Wikipedia entry here)