I’m often asked about how I go about doing the research for my historical novels. One of the sources I usually mention is visual art. I’ve always found that looking at contemporary paintings, prints, sketches, sculpture and so on reveals a wealth of information about how people of the past lived – what they wore, what sort of houses they lived in, how they spent their time, the towns and villages they inhabited. Going to an art gallery is one of my favourite research trips – especially if there’s a decent café with tea and cake at the end of an afternoon’s study! Of course, you don’t always have to take artistic representations literally. It’s obvious that whatever you’re looking at is an interpretation of the reality: it’s how the artist saw it. In fact, this subjectivity can be a real advantage if you’re looking for ideas about how people lived and thought. Often the most exaggerated representations, such as satirical prints or caricature, are the most revealing, telling us thi...

Amy Dillwyn’s novel, Jill , introduces one of the most entertaining heroines I’ve come across in a long time. She’s selfish, ruthless, cynical, and often funny; a character who is a far cry from the “girl-heroines” of the novels she’s brought up on with their gleefully-rejected models of femininity. Dismissing these “sentimental and goody” story books, Jill narrates instead a picaresque romp of disguises, bandits, gothic settings, outlandish and comical characters (a woman terrified of germs, another who cares only for her dogs, a ridiculous spinster, a lazy butler), unexpected turns of fortune, and romance.   Jill overthrows conventions at every turn. The book opens with her challenge to the idea that “men are more apt to be of an adventurous disposition than women”, and goes on to disprove the assertion through its account of her own startling adventures. Christened Gilbertina Trecastle (her parents had hoped for a boy who they planned to name in honour of her maternal grandfat...