Katharine McMahon, The Alchemist's Daughter (Crown Publishers, 2006)
I am writing this review based on the Advance Reader's Edition of this novel, which arrived in the Green Man mailroom a few weeks ago. I saw a hard copy of the same title at our favorite local independent bookstore the last time we were there, and notice that it's widely available from online sources.
According to the biosketch on the back cover of this edition, British author Katharine McMahon has written four novels prior to The Alchemist's Daughter. I did a search for them on the Amazon sites and confirmed that at least three are historical with female lead characters. I couldn't get enough information about the fourth to say for sure, but the cover art strongly suggests that it shares these characteristics. Her biosketch also reveals that she is an advisory fellow for the Royal Literary Fund and in that capacity provides guidance to five university-based writers. What I surmise from this information is that McMahon is a reflective writer, in other words, a writer who actively pays attention to her craft. As a reflective teacher (and through Green Man a reflective writer, as well) I can certainly appreciate that!
McMahon has written The Alchemist's Daughter as a personal memoir, although without the framing devices that some authors use with this style. So, for example, she does not present the short entries that comprise each of the book's twelve named chapters as parts of a diary or letters to someone else, nor does our narrator make any asides that reveal her older self's judgments on her younger self. She doesn't end the book by self-consciously telling the reader that the tale is over. I observed only the faintest hints of foreshadowing. Sometimes a light touch on that device is the best approach!
Our narrator is, of course, the alchemist's daughter, a young woman named Emilie Selden, born in 1706 at Selden Manor, a run-down country house on the Thames River accessible to London by boat or coach. Her father, Sir John Selden, is a scientist, or what many people in those times called a natural philosopher. A member of the Royal Society, he hobnobs in London with Sir Isaac Newton and other luminaries of the period when he isn't hiding out at Selden Manor. (One of the book's most historically grounded scenes takes place at Newton's funeral in Westminster Abbey in 1727.) Sir John is also an alchemist, one who uses the scientific method to explore the inner workings of life itself. At this point in time, the boundaries between science and magic were still a bit amorphous, so that someone studying the properties of fire might well be expected to have side interests in animating dead beings, whether plant or bird or human. Nonetheless, Sir John appears inclined to be somewhat secretive about this side of his research.
The story unfolds in chronological order, starting with Emilie's earliest childhood memories, helping her father with his laboratory work, and ending when she is still a young woman, considerably wiser than when she began. Her mother died giving birth to Emilie, and her companions at Selden Manor are few -- Sir John and the Gills, married housekeeper and handyman, who appear to be deeply committed to Sir John and to the estate. From her father, Emilie learns to read scientific tracts, to conduct experiments and to record her observations. From Mrs. Gill, she learns what little she knows about her mother and a bit about plant medicine, for Mrs. Gill has that gift.
Two interconnected dynamics drive the plot forward. One, to which I just alluded, is Emilie's search for more information about her mother. She uses her training as a scientist quite well in pursuing this line of inquiry, pursuing leads and weighing evidence with care. The other, which comes upon her quite unexpectedly, is learning how to tell the difference between love and lust. Sir John and the Gills didn't exactly prepare Emilie to understand and cope with her developing physical and emotional needs, and so she experiences a very steep and not always enjoyable learning curve around these issues. Let's just say that some of her sexual encounters, albeit with a single partner, are pretty rough. If it weren't for some of the more explicit of these scenes, I'd say this book would qualify as young adult fiction.
Because plot is so important to this story and literally all of the 'side' characters contribute significantly to the development of the plot, I am hesitant to tell you too much about them. Suffice it to say that some of them are base and some are noble. A discerning reader will be able to tell without much effort who possesses what qualities. In fact, a discerning reader is likely to have made some of these determinations long before Emilie does. She does learn, but not overnight!
McMahon makes good use of a number of literary devices in The Alchemist's Daughter. I have already mentioned her first-person narrative style and her deft and subtle deployment of foreshadowing. I would also note some images of progression, such as Emilie's awareness of her physical appearance (reflected in mirrors of varying quality and evidenced in both her clothing and her way of writing about her clothing), her changing perspectives on Selden Manor as she leaves and comes back several times, as well as both gradual and radical changes to the house and to some of its rooms as the story unfolds. McMahon also utilizes a number of recurring and contrasting symbols: for example, early in the story Emilie and her father nurse an injured barn owl back to health and release her from the roof of the Manor rather than use her in their 'phlogiston' experiments. Later, when Emilie is living in London in a house that obviously feels like a cage to her, she receives a caged parrot as a gift and remarks upon the bright color of its feathers. Although the parrot is not always in full view, late in the story, Emilie mentions it again, this time saying, '. . .the sulky parrot had lost shine from its green feathers and wouldn't fix me with its cloudy eye.' This bird isn't very happy in captivity, and neither, it turns out, is Emilie.
I have seldom encountered fiction that portrays a woman scientist as a lead character. McMahon used a French mathematician and physicist named Gabrielle-Emilie du Chatelet as her model for Emilie Selden. That itself is enough, I think, to recommend The Alchemist's Daughter. A suspenseful plot, good characterizations, well-drawn settings, and a well-crafted writing style are certainly added benefits.
