Book Review: Daughters of Nantucket by Jenny Ashford
There’s something undeniably alluring about historical fiction, especially when it’s set in a place as evocative as Nantucket. I dove into Jenny Ashford’s Daughters of Nantucket with eager anticipation, drawn not only by the picturesque backdrop but also by the promise of complex character dynamics amidst pressing social issues. However, as I turned the pages, I found myself grappling with contrasts between the book’s promising beginnings and its disappointing execution.
From the outset, Ashford’s prose shimmers with potential. The opening chapter encapsulates a haunting uniqueness, encapsulated in poignant phrases that made my spine tingle. Early on, we encounter the profound realization: “You are married to a soldier gone off to fight an infinite war… Your marriage will be made up of three beings: a wife, her husband, and the sea between them.” This line hints at exploring untethered love and longing, yet it quickly feels like an outlier in a book that eventually settles into a more formulaic rhythm.
The trio of female protagonists—Maria, Sarah, and Agnes—find themselves navigating 1840s Nantucket’s turbulent waters of societal change. Unfortunately, while the initial premise brims with the potential for rich narrative explorations of identity, activism, and communal resilience, the text often resorts to repetitive exposition. Take Maria: her backstory as a teacher is reiterated so many times that it feels like a running joke rather than a compelling characterization. At one point I noted, “Maria thinks back to the year she opened her own school for girls,” only to be reminded of her profession moments later, almost as if the characters were reminding each other of details we were already aware of.
One of the most jarring aspects for me was the dialogue—or lack thereof—in moments of crisis. During what should have been the climactic "great fire," exchanges felt lethargic, as if characters had all the time in the world while their town burned. Comments like "We’re doing everything we can to save the Atheneum" felt more like a nudge to the reader than an authentic representation of urgency.
This brings me to the characters themselves. Each felt somewhat one-dimensional, particularly in their responses to significant social issues. When it comes to fighting for equality, the townspeople almost seem to share a hive mind—there’s little dissent or nuanced opinion on what are portrayed as complex topics. One moment in particular stands out, where an enthusiastic shout leads to applause for a mere plan to challenge inequality, leaving me wondering if anyone could challenge these ideas further or bring more depth to the narrative.
By the time the fire finally arrives on page 230, the aftermath feels glossed over, overshadowed by personal growth moments rather than a true exploration of hardship. I closed the book feeling a little disheartened; the ending, with its vague shorthand for the future, left me wanting more substance. It read as if Ashford had intended to provide closure but ultimately settled on a rather ambiguous forecast: “something will happen,” indeed, but what that something is and how it resonated with the journey just didn’t land as I hoped.
In conclusion, Daughters of Nantucket may appeal to readers who enjoy historical fiction filled with melodrama and a touch of soapiness—those who relish character interactions tied together by grand themes and heartfelt moments. However, for readers searching for nuanced explorations of the complexities of history and character, this may not fully satisfy. Ultimately, while Ashford’s debut presents moments of brilliance, it falters in delivering a cohesive, emotionally resonant journey that lingers long after the last page.
