LEARNED BY HEART

An ill-at-ease schoolgirl at a 19th-century boarding school finds love with her swashbuckling roommate.

In the latest of her fact-based historical novels, Donoghue strikes an unabashedly romantic, dreamlike tone with an opening line deliberately evocative of Rebecca. “Last night I went to the Manor again,” Eliza Raine writes to her former lover, Anne Lister, a decade after the two met in 1805 as teenage students at King’s Manor in York. Sent from Madras to England at age 6, the product of a “country marriage” between an Indian woman and an East India Company employee, Eliza is painfully aware of how her brown skin and illegitimacy mark her out among her privileged classmates even though her father’s death has left her heir to a modest fortune. She does her best to be the perfect student—until Lister arrives and is placed in her garret room. Self-confident, rule-breaking Lister both fascinates and frightens Raine, from her insistence that they call each other by their surnames like schoolboys to her casual disrespect for the teachers. Yet Raine comes to relish the spirit of adventure her new friend has brought into her life, and eventually the two embark on an ecstatic physical relationship. The story of the girls’ deepening bond is told in third-person chapters interspersed with Raine’s anguished letters to Lister, in which it quickly becomes clear that at age 24 Raine has been confined for some time to an asylum. We don’t know why until the very end, but it’s clear in the school chapters that her growing sense of self-worth is bound up in her love for Lister and might not survive their parting. Donoghue draws a wonderfully rich portrait of boarding school life, both a mirror of the outside world’s social hierarchies and a hothouse of complex interactions among girls striving to become women. As always, her narrative is grounded in sharp observation, strong characters, and nice period detail. She also tenderly evokes passion between two young women, though Raine’s perpetual insecurity and timidity eventually become as wearying for the reader as we suspect they may have for Lister.

Not quite on the level of Donoghue’s very best work but nonetheless a treat for her many fans.