The most recommended Victorian books

For any fans of vintage murder mysteries this book is a must-read. This is a thorough examination of the poisons used by Agatha Christie, giving details of the availability, interactions with the human body, how toxins can be detected now, and at the time the books were written. As a reader or a writer, this book will make murder by poison less of a mystery, and more of a trail of clues.     

Bly was a brilliant investigative journalist best known in the United States for her exposé of the Women’s Lunatic Asylum based on her feigning of insanity as an undercover patient … until she became even more famous for her circumnavigation of the globe, inspired by Jules Verne’s fictional Around the World in 80 Days. Sponsored and encouraged by Joseph Pulitzer (editor of the tabloid newspaper, The New York World) and written in a witty, breezy style, Bly’s pithily-told tale upends every stereotype of fragile Victorian womanhood; her gutsy candor about her madcap race around what was supposed to be a wholly man’s world still stuns and delights!

Anne Perry is too well known for me to add anything about her or her many books.

This particular one, though, the first in the William Monk series, intrigues me particularly because of the startling idea of a detective who doesn’t know who he is, knows nothing about his past. What a challenge to the writer!

Monk is understandably ill-tempered and extremely touchy, but this, oddly enough, makes him, for me, a sympathetic character.

As always, the brooding descriptions of Victorian London set the scene perfectly, and I was desperately hoping for Monk to resolve not only the crime but his personal problems. And, as with all books that I love, it’s beautifully written. 

It’s never the plot that draws me to a novel; it’s always other ingredients like people and place and, in these regards, Cranford is a stellar delight. The protagonist is a frequent house guest in the small town of Cranford, giving readers intimate access to the quirky social codes of its mostly female population. From the ones who care about social mores to the ones who care less, these wonderful vignettes document their attempts to outwit a visiting magician, or foil rumored night-burglars, or adapt to the losses of loved ones. Each woman has had a journey in some way stifled by the patriarchy of the 1800s but these ladies’ timeless and absorbing intelligence, compassion, loyalty, ingenuity, forbearance, and above all, wit, shine through.

This is one of the first books that I remember buying for myself in graduate school. Cullwick’s descriptions of her relationship with upper-class Arthur Munby (whom she eventually married) and the photographs of her dressed as a maid-of-all-work, a lady, a “slave,” an agricultural worker, and a valet highlight Victorian power negotiations and performativity.

Cullwick started working as a servant at the age of eight. From her diaries, I learned much about the daily lives of domestic servants: their relationships with employers, the different levels of service and employment networks, and the sheer amount of hard, physical labor that it took to run a Victorian household.

Yes, this is a domestic guide on how to create the ideal household, but it’s so much more than that!

I love that Beeton opens her book by comparing the mistress of the house to an army commander. The book includes hundreds of recipes, along with all kinds of domestic advice: how to hire servants, how to purchase a house, how to revive a child from a coma, how to set a broken bone, and how to treat opium overdose.

Best of all is the irony that the author of this middle-class domestic ideal worked outside the home alongside her publisher husband not only on The Book of Household Management but also as journalist and co-editor of The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine.

This is a novel about life in the London slums in the 1880s. You really get a sense of just how hard it was to make ends meet in these communities. I loved it for the details about what people ate, where they lived, and the language. I trawled books like this for authentic words and expressions that I could put in the mouths of my characters in my own books.

I was delighted when I was recently given this book written by Helen Rappaport with the Foreword by Daisy Goodwin, novelist and screenwriter of the TV dramatization of Queen Victoria’s early reign.

The book touches on her birth and carries through to a rather depressing childhood. Still, her letters and journals make fascinating reading and give early insights into the sometimes stubborn character of young Queen Victoria. There are many letters to her Uncle Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, who eventually became instrumental in guiding his nephew, Albert, towards marriage to Victoria.

The book also shows her reliance on her first Prime Minister, Lord Melbourne, who helped her overcome many difficulties early in her reign. It shows her dislike of her mother’s friend, Sir John Conroy, who had ambitions of becoming regent to the crown, though Victoria quickly scotched that aim.

Passages of letters from her, those to her, and her journals… show more.

Published in 1893, The Odd Women focuses on women’s rights in the late Victorian period.

The odd in the title doesn’t mean strange but left out – not part of a pair. There were more women than men in late Victorian Britain, meaning that many women didn’t marry – which was a big deal in a society that saw marriage and childbearing as the end goal in life for women.

At the heart of The Odd Women are Rhoda Nunn and Mary Barfoot, both passionately dedicated to the cause of women’s rights; they run a typewriting school, offering women new career prospects and fulfilling single lives.

The novel has its limitations – Rhoda and Mary are only really concerned with the plight of middle-class women – but it is nonetheless a powerful criticism of injustice and patriarchy. 

For a long time, I assumed that I would find these three novellas about churchmen and parishioners in the English countryside of the late 18th and early 19th centuries sleepy and dull. They’re anything but. Eliot depicts the presence of alcoholism, spousal abuse, loneliness, and life-damaging gossip in her fictional communities. But her signature empathy and wit, already on display in this early work, make it invigorating, not a downer.