Author doles out clues in character-driven ‘Nanny’
Stephen King returns with ‘The Institute’
This cover image released by William Morrow shows ‘The Nanny,’ a novel by Gilly Macmillan. (AP)
By Oline H. Cogdill
by (William Morrow) Classism, fragile memories and a family torn apart by misunderstandings and jealousy haunt an aristocratic British family in “The Nanny,” Gilly Macmillan’s enthralling fifth novel. Sophisticated plotting and believable characters elevate “The Nanny” as a solid family drama.
Macmillan proves the truth in the adage that the rich are different from you and me while showing family dynamics often are an equalizer. Granted, most people aren’t raised by nannies nor do they live in sprawling mansions in the British countryside as do the Holts. But family problems are universal.
Jocelyn Holt spent 20 years distancing herself from her parents, Lord and Lady Holt, and their estate, Lake Hall. She moved to California, married and eventually had a daughter, Ruby, who is now 10 years old. Jocelyn – who calls herself Jo – hasn’t been in England for years, even missing the funeral of her father, Alexander, whom she loved, because that would mean seeing her mother, Virginia, whom she loathes. Jo remembers a childhood of neglect and disgust from her mother, but being loved and cherished by her nanny, Hannah. But when Jo was 7 years old, Hannah left in the middle of the night, with no goodbyes, and all her belongings vanishing with her.
Jo and Ruby are forced to move back to Lake Hall following the death of her husband Chris. Jo believes she has no other options – all of their money was tied up in Chris’ failing business and she isn’t an American citizen. Jo and Virginia resume their fractious relationship. Jo barely hides her contempt for her mother and resents that Ruby and Virginia quickly bond. But one of Virginia’s great regrets is that she never had the kind of relationship that she yearned to have with Jo. A skull discovered on the estate’s island has Jo wondering if it belongs to Hannah and if her parents murdered her nanny. When the long-lost Hannah eventually shows up, Jo is thrilled, hoping to re-establish a loving relationship with her beloved nanny; Virginia and Ruby feel differently about Hannah.
The mystery of what happened to Hannah – and the hints of violence – drive the plot, but the real strength of “The Nanny” is the mother-daughter relationship and how feelings can be manipulated. Macmillan perceptively alternates between the memories of Virginia and Jo and their present situation, allowing the reader to have both empathy and irritation with both as their contrasting relationship emerges. Lady and Lord Holt believed themselves to be respected, even loved, by the villagers. But many residents, and the detective investigating the skull, despise the aristocrats, assuming the wealthy suffer no consequences for their actions.
Macmillan wisely doles out clues leading to a surprising finale in the characterdriven
This cover image released by Scribner shows ‘The Institute’ by Stephen King. (AP)
“The Nanny.”
by
(Scribner) The kids are all right again, in Stephen King’s world.
Not since part one of “It” or his short story “The Body,” which became the “Stand by Me” film, has King based a story almost entirely around the lives and fears of young people.
The protagonist of “The Institute” is a hyper-intelligent 12-year-old named Luke Ellis. “Your basic good boy, doing what he was told,” King writes, “the guy who went out of his way to be social so people wouldn’t think he was a weirdo as well as a brainiac.” Snatched from his Minneapolis bed one night, Luke wakes up in a replica of his room with a few details missing. One of the giveaways? His collectible “Wings for Willkie” 1940 presidential button is missing from inside the cup of his Little League trophy.
Just pages later Luke is face-to-face with the villains of King’s story, a buttoned-up Mrs Sigsby (we later learn her first name is Julia and she’s the chief administrator of the Institute) “wearing a tailored DVF business suit that did not disguise her beyond-lean build,” and Dr Hendricks, “with his protruding front teeth and extreme height,” earning him the nickname “Donkey Kong.”
To say any more about what the Institute is or what happens to the gifted children imprisoned there would spoil the story, but it’s classic King. The best scenes in the first half of the book are when the kids are talking with each other, trying to figure out where they are, why they’re there, and eventually what to do about it. King has always had a great ear for childish conversation:
“Have we been kidnapped?” Luke asks his new friends. “Well, duh,” replies George. “Because every now and then I walk into a room and the door closes behind me?”
“Well, if they were grabbing people for their good looks, Iris and Sha wouldn’t be here,” says George, as Kalisha chimes in with, “Dinkleballs.”
The second half of the book hinges on the kindness of a couple of adults as Luke begins to figure out what’s happening to him and his friends. King fleshes out the supporting characters nicely and there’s a “Rocky vs. Drago” feel to it as you really begin to root for the kids and their sympathetic grown-ups.
Anyone who avoids King because they don’t like “horror” novels will be safe reading this one. It’s more mystery than horror, with the evil concentrated on inhumanity. There’s no bloody gore or supernatural forces, just adults treating children horribly. As the book climaxes and then reaches its resolution, you’ll have to decide for yourself if the good or the bad guys win. (AP)