The book took a little while to get into and researching a little bit into the historical references helped me to enjoy it more. Isabel Aird is the wife of a Doctor who is helping on the construction of the Loch Katrine Dam, that is to provide clean water to Glasgow and is hoped will stop the cholera epidemic there . She has had eight miscarriages and gets pregnant again. The story progresses with the opening of the dam by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, but all of the stress of getting to watch this by Isobel, brings on premature labour.

The story is also a bit of a fairytale and faeries are referenced often, including the presence of a man who has been dead for some years.

Give the book a go, you will not be dissappointed and the historical facts add to the story really well.

The Sealwoman’s Gift was one of my favourite reads of 2018. So I had been looking forward to Sally Magnusson’s second novel and to see whether it would resonate with me again to the same extent as The Sealwoman’s Gift had. With her first work of fiction Mrs Magnusson had produced a solidly researched story and demonstrated her skills as a storyteller drawing on both Scottish and Nordic traditions, weaving together a spellbinding story that captivated me. And with her second book she does not disappoint.
In The Ninth Child, the reader is transported back to 1856 to the Scottish Loch Katrine where a huge and dangerous engineering project is started to construct a series of aqueducts and tunnels stretching 30 miles ending in a reservoir to provide Glasgow with clean water. Into this unlikely setting arrives Dr Alexander Aird, to tend to injured workers, and Isabel, his unhappy and heartbroken wife. She is haunted by seven pregnancies where none resulted in a living child and is praying for an eighth pregnancy to finally result in the much-longed for child. The only lady on site, Isabel spends her days going for long walks to keep boredom at bay and to heal her broken heart. One day she meets the strange and sinister Robert Kirke, a minister who is doing research for a book on local superstitions. Kirke ‘is one with the faeries’ but - he died in 1692. Why is he now walking with Isabel, and what does he want from her?
This is a book where worlds collide: industrialisation vs nature, darkness vs light, folklore vs reality, church vs faeries, but Mrs Magnusson weaves the different strands and points of views together into a highly original and engrossing read. I very much enjoyed this supernatural historical mystery and highly recommend it.
My rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

With thanks to NetGalley for the eARC.
#NetGalley

The Ninth Child, Magnusson’s second novel, is inspired by a true event in Scottish history – the construction of the Loch Katrine aqueducts, meant to supply fresh water from the loch to the city of Glasgow, thirty-five miles away. This ambitious project was commenced in 1855 and was inaugurated by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in 1859. The protagonist of Magnusson’s story is the fictional Isabel Aird, whose husband Dr Alexander Aird is assigned to the project to cater for the workers’ medical requirements. Isabel joins her husband and is, at first, not particularly enthusiastic about her new life in the Highlands. She also battles with the pain of consecutive miscarriages. As she settles down, however, not only does she start to appreciate the countryside and the company of the locals but, inspired by the recent exploits of Florence Nightingale in Crimea, she also nurtures the ambition of working side by side with her husband in the medical profession.

Magnusson weaves into Isabel’s story the legend associated with the Reverend Robert Kirke (or Kirk), a 17th Century Scottish Episcopalian minister and Gaelic scholar. Kirke wrote the first complete translation of the Scottish metrical psalms into Gaelic, and was also involved in the publication of one of the earliest Gaelic editions of the Bible, whose printing in London was funded by scientist Robert Boyle. However, Kirke is nowadays best known for The Secret Commonwealth, a book which he left unpublished at his death. Its lengthy subtitle gives a good indication of the subject of Kirke’s studies: an Essay on the Nature and Actions of the Subterranean (and for the most part) Invisible People heretofore going under the names of Fauns and Fairies, or the like, among the Low Country Scots as described by those who have second sight. The fairy realm is hardly the typical area of study of a religious minister, and Kirke’s dubious dabbling in this “occult” fare gave rise to the legend that he was spirited away by the fairies at his death, his body replaced with that of a stranger. Sir Walter Scott refers to this legend in his Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft: Scott, it should be said, published the first edition of The Secret Commonwealth in 1815, more than a century after Kirke’s death.

Magnusson imagines Kirke returning from fairyland and striking up a friendship of sorts with Isabel Aird. Fairies and Elves in Gaelic folklore are hardly the cute spirits found in children’s books, and we soon learn that the sìthichean are asking from Kirke a nefarious deed in return for being released from fairy captivity.

The Ninth Child is a well-researched historical novel with supernatural elements – and it should have been right up my street. Yet, I struggled to finish it, leaving it to the side for several weeks before returning to it in earnest. I can’t really put my finger on why this was the case, particularly since so many readers have been really enthusiastic about the novel. It might be that I simply was not in the mood for it. That said, I could not shake off the impression that the book was somewhat all over the place. Isabel’s story is already compelling on its own, and with introduction of Kirke, we get some supernatural frisson as well. However, Magnusson also introduces several other characters, including historical figures such as Victoria and Albert and scientist and polymath William Rankine. Their stories and voices intertwine – sometimes in unlikely ways, such as Prince Albert’s meeting with Robert Kirke. I felt that these subplots sapped the punch from what could have been an interesting and captivating story.

Related to this, there’s also the issue of the multiple and rapidly changing viewpoints. The novel’s “anchoring” narrative is Isabel’s story, as recounted by Kirsty McEchern, Isabel’s Scottish helper and friend. However, the novel often switches to omniscient third person narration, showing us scenes between the Airds (and between Queen Victoria and Prince Albert) which, of course, Kirsty would not have been privy to. We then get Kirke’s ruminations, answered by the fairies’ insolent replies. This, apart from various letters and diary entries of the various figures, some of whom make little more than a cameo appearance. Again, I felt that this blurred the novel’s focus.

This book then, has plenty to recommend it, but I would have liked it leaner.

Fantastic read! A brilliant blend of fact & fiction. Sally Manusson wove a take which had you dreading the end - please don’t let Isabel lose her ninth child. A truly believable story woven into the actual facts of the provision of fresh water to Glasgow. I would recommend it to anyone who likes to think ‘what would it have been like....’

The Ninth Child is a novel about the places where worlds meet: folklore and spreading industrialisation; royalty and poverty; water and land; faery, church and science.

Most of the novel takes place in Glasgow, where Isabel has accompanied her husband, Dr. Alexander Aird. While he throws himself into the project to help bring clean water to the masses, as camp doctor at the building of the new waterworks, Isabel wanders forlornly across fields and round lakes, chasing the ghosts of her miscarried babies and struggling to reconcile her role as a woman who is not supposed to work or even think overmuch, but yet is continually thwarted at motherhood.

Darker forces lurk, however, than Isabel’s pale misery. She is being watched by a mysterious figure – in ministerial clothes, but apparently homeless and living wild in the woods – who introduces himself as Robert Kirke. The same Robert Kirke who wrote a book about faery and died in the seventeenth century.

The author cleverly leaves the ultimate conclusions about what is going on up to the reader, via the characters, to decide. We see alternating viewpoints from Isabel Aird, Robert Kirke, Kirsty McEchern (Isabel’s house help) and even from Queen Victoria and Prince Albert as the story unfolds. This allows us the freedom of interpretation of the events, with Robert Kirke believing wholeheartedly in his own faery story for example, while Isabel doubts it and pities his wretchedness. I did find that the changing narrators was confusing in places, as it wasn’t clearly delineated when switches occurred, and the voices were not always immediately distinct. However I usually picked up who we were with after just a few lines, so this wasn’t a big problem.

The historical details here are fascinating, and the story is a moving study into isolation: geographical, experiential, emotional. I found the characters a little hard to engage with for that very reason: in isolating themselves and each other, it felt like they pushed the reader to arm’s length too, and it often felt that we learnt more about them from the outside perspective of other characters than from the insight into their own thoughts.

In some ways I felt that, in staying between worlds, striving for neutrality of viewpoint, what the author has achieved here is a book which is too fanciful for historical fiction, but shies away from wholly committing to magical realism or fairytale. So, neither one thing or the other, but somewhere betwixt and between.



As the only lady for miles and certainly the only woman braving the wilds today in a hooped lilac gown and a bonnet nodding with silken fruit, Isabel had been attracting so much attention that she barely noticed the other figure staring at her from a clump of bright trees. She might not have registered him at all – black coat, something white at the neck, no hat of any kind – if she had not been so struck by the man’s eyes, which burned through the faint gunpowder haze with a peculiar energy.

‘Hungry’ is how she would describe the look afterwards.

– Sally Magnusson, The Ninth Child

Review by Steph Warren of Bookshine and Readbows blog

A story of the occult, history, love and sadness. Not always the easiest to follow and understand who is telling the story and slightly assumes that the reader knows something about Robert Kirke. The actual writing style is fairly light, but it is not a book I would rush to read again.

I liked this one well enough, despite the fact that the blend of plot lines did not work for me. Set in the 19th century around the building of a viaduct to supply Glasgow with clean water. I loved the Isabelle and Kirsty storyline. The long-dead church master and fairy lore was fine, but probably very off-putting if you don’t like magical realism, but the bits with Albert and Queen Victoria nearly killed the book for me and the link between the storylines is tenuous at best.

Set in Glasgow, during a time of cholera outbreaks and public health concerns, Isabel Aird, and her doctor husband, Alexander, their marriage unravelling after multiple miscarriages, decide to follow the public health works and reside in the Trossachs, where a new clean water supply is being linked up from Loch Katrine to Glasgow.

Isabel is struck by the ethereal beauty of the place, a place where she starts to see her lost children playing around the Loch. It's also a place where she learns to explore her role and intellects, if becoming a mother isn't one of them.

But there is a strange man, Robert Kirke, roaming the hills, who has nothing to do with the water works. He is strangely intense and forthright, which captures Isabel under some kind of spell. Is that so surprising, in a land where the realms of faerie are not so far from our own?

The historical aspects of this novel were well-researched, well written and the physical and geographical setting of the novel was really well-imagined. It's hard to write about physical spaces, particularly when your characters are walking all over them, without making them sound muddled or confusing, and Magnusson does this particularly well. I particularly liked the idea of the powder blasts etc disturbing the fae and forcing them to disgorge Kirke.

However, I didn't particularly warm to the characters, and found Kirsty's wifie voice somewhat annoying, and the various narrative voices jumping around each chapter sometimes made it hard to follow what was going on - sometimes you had to look ahead for a particular accent or style of speaking to understand who that section was about, before reading back to actually understand what was happening.

Isabel also showed a level of acceptance for all the 'faerie' goings on around her that seemed semi-unbelievable. Hearing that someone is dead but not dead but not reflecting on that at all - only to then spend the next few months doing nothing except focusing on being pregnant, with plenty of time for reflection, seemed somewhat jarring.

I enjoyed the inclusion of the letters from Prince Albert/Queen Victoria but feel as though they weren't as much of a decoy as intended - they weren't given enough air-time to feel like a viable option in the story, although I did like how their story crossed with Isabel and Alexander's.

I did enjoy reading the Author's Note about the fact in the fiction, and what she had used for her research, as well as where she had done her research - much of Magnusson's time writing was spent on the edge of the Lochs, where her own characters lived, and this really comes through in the writing. It was also interesting to read about the factual grounding behind Robert Kirke - once you read this, then the whole story seems to tie together much more impressively.

Overall, 3.5 stars, rounded up to 4.

Sally Magnussons books are always well written and I thoroughly enjoyed reading an advance copy of this one.
It is set in the Trossachs in Central Scotland in 1856.
The story is of Isobel Aird who is the wife of the local doctor. Isobel has had 8 miscarriages and still births and becomes pregnant again. Her husband is completely involved in his work as doctor for the new waterworks and is less than supportive.
She comes to know a man who is writing a book about local beliefs and superstitions, and gradually it emerges that in fact he appears to be the reincarnation of somebody who died almost 200 years ago.

The story is a mixture of folklore - with faeries and belief in them, fact and fiction. It's a good description of life in a period almost 200 years ago when life in Scotland was very different.
An enjoyable read which kept me gripped to the end.

I found this an extremely hard book to read. The characters and the locations are very well described but it takes a while to understand who is doing the first person writing this time. One chapter refers to I as different people all the way through and was very confusing.
The history of the undertaking of getting water to Glasgow was fascinating though and was of historical interest to me. I also found the dialogue and sections from Victoria and/or Albert of great interest. I am glad that I read this on Kindle as each time I came across a word that I did not know I could look it up, I should add that these were all Scottish dialogue or obsolete words and some were just worth recording to use sometime in the future.
The fairy part I could not come to grips with and found that this spoilt the story for me in some ways.

‘The Ninth Child’ by Sally Magnusson is a Scottish historical mystery featuring a doctor’s wife, Queen Victoria, an infrastructure project to bring clean water to Glasgow from the wild and beautiful lochs, and the sithichean (fairies).
It is a story of water and the fate of two different women, both expecting their ninth child, and their husbands; one who is ignorant until the end, the other who looks the threat in the eye and shivers. The pregnant women, who have never met, are the Queen and Isabel, wife of Dr Alexander Aird, physician to the water construction project. The Airds live on the remote and basic construction site in a stone cottage called Fairy Knoll, alongside the drilling and tunnelling of the water project. There are two stories here - a historical saga about health and living conditions for the families which struggle both in Glasgow tenements and of the navvies that work on the water project; and a mystical story of a preacher stolen by the fairies in 1692 who returns 167 years later to talk and walk with Isabel Aird. His purpose is not clear but he is egged on by a fairy voice with whom he has made an unearthly deal. The link with Queen Victoria is tenuous and, after a strong introduction, this strand goes silent for a long time.
The tale is told by the Aird’s neighbour and servant Kirsty McEchern, alternating with Robert Kirke the preacher and, briefly, Prince Albert. At times the transition between viewpoints is sudden and confusing and I admit to skipping over some of the Robert Kirke passages. Sometimes his dialect merged into a following section by Kirsty and this took me away from the story. But I did like the character of Isabel Aird and the portrayal of her journey through the grief for her eight miscarriages. Inspired by contemporary women such as Florence Nightingale and Anne Lister, Isabel fights against her husband’s expectations that she pursue a gentlewoman’s traditional life. The juxtaposition of the Queen, Isabel and Kirsty demonstrates that women, whatever their class and education, face many of the same trials in life and have the similar mental and physical fortitude when called upon.
Magnusson is a confident writer in this period and I believed in the construction site she describes near Loch Chon and Loch Katrine. Many characters and incidents are based on real people and events including many places in the Trossachs national park which to this day bear fairy names. The Queen Victoria strand promised much but was under-used. I wished the story had more pace and for this reason the first three-quarters of the book was a 3* for me, rising to 4* for the last quarter which races along. A special mention goes to the glorious purple thistle cover.
Read more of my book reviews at http://www.sandradanby.com/book-reviews-a-z/

Isobel Aird has endured numerous miscarriages. When her doctor husband suggests they move to the wilds of Loch Katrine to assist with the building of the famous Glasgow waterworks, she is full of trepidation but feels a new start might be just the thing. However, after another miscarriage and heartbreak, Isobel’s life takes a dramatic new turn when she meets an enigmatic man who supposedly died many years before.

This was a fascinating read. A mixture of descriptions of women enduring Victorian hardships, Scottish fairy folklore and true-life events in a brilliantly researched book make this an excellent read. I immediately researched the background of the events after reading it. The characters, especially Kirsty, who narrates large parts of the book are well drawn and I will admit to crying when I found out who she was telling her story to! The only part which I felt was less successful was the inclusion of Victoria and Albert – I understand why this was done but for me it felt like a slightly less convincing element of the book.
Altogether though I loved it – was carried along and felt I had visited Doon Hill and the lochs after reading it.

Glasgow's health in Victorian Times was very poor, not helped by the lack of sanitation & clean water. An ambitious plan to pipe clean water from Loch Katrine in the Trossachs. It is a hard & difficult enterprise which will means lots of pipework & blasting through the hills to provide the tunnels & aqueducts required for the waters to flow freely. Alexander Aird goes to be the site doctor, bringing with him his wife Isabel. She has never been particularly at home in Glasgow society, preferring ro read & walk & mourn her inability to bring a living/surviving child into the world. Whilst wandering the hills round Loch Katrine it is easy to believe tales of faerie folk. She meets a strange man who does not seem entirely of this world- why is he so interested in her?

Mixing fact with fiction, the author creates spell binding tale that I really enjoyed. Thanks to Netgalley & the publisher for letting me read & review this book.

If your mind is open to the superstitions of the world of the Scottish Highlands of the mid nineteenth century, as well as the mystical folklore of the sithichean and the faery world then this is definitely going to nourish your soul.
The story is narrated by different voices- that of Kirsty McEchern who is a navvy's wife that goes to work for Isabel Aird, and Robert Kirke, himself a minister taken to faery land in 1692 and returned to the Highlands in 1856 with a task to perform.
The story has several themes: women's roles in the mid nineteenth century, medical science and advances, Loch Katrine waterworks, miscarriages, motherhood, values & belief systems including superstition, folklore and education. The prose are written phonetically which makes this tale immersive, compelling and utterly thrilling. The hopes, cynicism's, losses, and fears are all evident in the sounds of the words; the malevolent undertones of Robert Kirke and the sithichean, the overwhelming sorrow and emptiness of Isabel Aird are both deeply felt by the reader.
As the waterworks of the Loch progress, so too does Robert Kirke's enchantment over Isabel and the reader can sense her being lulled into a situation that only Kirsty can 'see.'
With a surprising denouement I thoroughly enjoyed reading this tale and highly recommend it.

For Isabel Aird, her husband's new job as doctor at a major engineering project at Loch Katrine comes as a shock. However after losing eight babies before their time a change of air may suit. Isabel is intelligent but frustrated by her strict role as wife, when she encounters the mysterious but compelling Reverend Kirke she is intrigued but he is not what he seems. Suspicious Kirsty finds out that he is of the faerie and it concerns her. Meanwhile as Isabel's latest pregnancy unfolds so does that of a more fertile woman carrying her ninth child, Queen Victoria is planning on visiting Loch Katrine.
I thought this book may be far more concerned with the 'faeries' than it is and as such it is far more enjoyable than I feared. Magnusson has hit on a period in time where middle class women were only useful as wives and mothers so Isabel cannot develop her skills and interests as much as she would like. The story of Kirke is actually quite tender and his emotional torment at the end is well written. Overall an interesting tale where tradition comes up against high Victorian industry.

loved this book - would 100% recommend and am looking forward to reading what this author writes next!

This is an engaging, superbly written novel, full of interest about the incredible feats of Victorian engineering. The reason I could not rate it more highly is that the supernatural storyline was just not for me. I therefore struggled to take the plot seriously which was a real shame. I definitely look forward to reading more of Sally's work though.

A book of many strands that needs very careful reading . The story of Isabel Aird and her pioneering medical husband who go to live near the development of Loch Katrina as the reservoir for fresh water for Glasgow. Isabel has had a series of miscarriages and in the solitude of the countryside finds solace in her losses believing the children are with her . She meets an odd stranger called Robert Kirke who has his own secret that will impinge on her life. The book interweaves social history and Scottish legend in a tale that burns slowly but does come to a crescendo in the second half. It is not a easy read and made more complex by the changing of voice from Isabel to Kirsty who befriends her and Robert Kirke often without any obvious divide. Added to that is the insertion of the actions of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. It does all come together eventually.
I am glad I persevered with the book and think it might prove a good book Group read

*A big thank-you to Sally Magnusson, John Murray Press and NetGalley for arc in exchange for my honest review.*
I am grateful to Ms Magnusson for taking me on a wonderful reading journey to a place full of magic, inhabited by characters who will stay with me for a long time.
'The Ninth Child' is a novel that includes Victorian realism, magic, and sithichean, which is a gaelic word for fairies. What an amazing combination! Two worlds, one that of Victorian industrial enterprises which aimed at ridding big cities of contaminated water, the main reason behind cholera outbreaks, the other world, that of sinister, mysterious characters who travel across the centuries and whose fate bonds them with a woman who seems unable to have children and her husband, a doctor hired by a construction company to deliver medical assustance to navvies - workers building canals for water transport.
The prose is beautiful, intriguing narration that requires a great deal of concentration, but so rewarding for a reader!

Sorry can’t give a proper review as it turned out not to be the book for me. I do apologise.

I personally didn’t like it but as I said earlier it just wasn’t what I expected but I wouldn’t slate the book just because it wasn’t for me.