"This was EXCELLENT. I was hoping it'd be good. I have always been interested in the Spanish Civil War. It was actually a useful thing for me--as an idealistic, leaning-socialistic young kid who admired the Left---well, the Right in the Spanish Civil War was easy to hate. But, then, what was I to do when I discovered the Left wasn't perfect either? Anyway. This author is sympathetic to the Republican cause, and was able to draw her mostly leftist subjects with clarity and precision. But she was not at all blind to the failings of the Left and the total betrayal by Stalin. This leaves her free to dig in and show the good things done by her six main subjects, but also to show when they were used or used poorly. This was an extremely readable work--it read almost like a novel, I could hardly put it down. At first, since the only figures I was at all acquainted with were Hemingway and Gellhorn, I was worried about keeping everyone straight. But this turned out to be no problem. In fact, I almost think I'd recognize them if I ran into them. This is a terrific effort."

"What a joy this book is. A literary romance. Aged about 19 Kath meets a bohemian family with six children and falls in love with them, and especially the eldest son, Roger. And I fell in love with them. After the end of that first love affair, Kath moves to Rome, and it is ten years before she catches up with the Goldmans again, when she falls in love with another one of them. It's a coming-of-age story about whether in the late 70s in England women can actually get a family and a career. On the front Meg Mason says, it's 'utterly ageless'. And in some ways it is - an ageless subject - but in others it's a wonderful period piece full of phrases I forgotten like, 'something chronic'. (Only the middle section in Italy stopped me from giving it five stars, really because it was too slight and too quickly dealt with.)"

"4.5.

This book masquerades as a cosy read. It has been described as such by many reviewers, and the 'serving suggestion' on the back cover by Rachel Cooke from the Sunday Times is to consume the story in a bed of fresh linen whilst munching on Marmite on toast. I was very much taken by this description as I am a big fan of both fresh sheets and toast with Marmite. When you first settle down in a clean bed with your plate of toast however, you aren't mindful of the uncomfortable reality that will follow. Soon there are crumbs in your newly washed sheets, Marmite stains on your crisp white pillowcase. For me reading Brother... was a similar experience. The allusions to aesthetic and nourishing comforts lull you in to a false sense of security, yet the reality of the story is insidiously unsettling. Honestly this is all a euphemism, the book is really fucking sad.

The story is hard to describe without comparison to other novels. On the cover it is compared to Brideshead Revisited and Mansfield Park. I would like to add that it had a touch of Cold Comfort Farm and yet simultaneously reminded me of Plath's The Bell Jar. I adored so much about this book; gorgeous details, so much to delve into on the topic of gender, perfect literary references, short chapters with punchy endings. I only knock off half a star because I was weirdly jarred by and sensitive to some of the crude dialogue. The Goldman men love to shock. Just when you warm to them or let down your guard for them they do or say something abhorrent. It all hit home a bit too much to be honest. I thought I would be escaping into a cosy world that accompanies bed-and-toast but found myself choking on the everyday reality of living in a sexist society. Well nobody could call Trapido's characters flat, that's for sure.

You're supposed to either love or hate Marmite, but instead of sitting on either side of the fence with this book, you are likely to both love and hate it. You are trapped by the moments of affection you feel for the book's eccentric yet sadly familiar characters. You feel the necessity of love for these characters as with a familial bond, a tenderness that runs in the blood, yet really they are pretty awful.

I am aware that this is a very British review of a very British book, but whether you're familiar with the act of spreading yeast extract on your sandwiches or not, I'm sure you'll find at least parts of this coming-of-age story unfortunately relatable. Especially if you're a woman."