It was a sweet emotional read..but maybe a little bit too sweet. They say , Write about what the book made.you feel, it just was a comfortable read i guess. Thank you to netgalley for letting me read this e arc in exchange for an honest opinion

The House for Lost Children had me from the start, instantly falling in love with Louisa and her “can do” attitude. Her love for people and wanting to help in the worst of time just makes the story. Set during World War 2 the story follows a group of children who need somewhere to live after their homes were bombed, and thanks to the generosity of Louisa find themselves living in her house along with their teachers. The story is full of hope, sadness, love and tragedy. Can’t wait to read the next book in the series.

Thanks to NetGalley for the opportunity to provide an honest review. All opinions are my own.

“The House For Lost Children” takes place in England during World War II. After a divorce, Louisa Brightford turns her large home into a boarding school and takes in nine young children who have all lost their parents in a bombing. One little girl, Gracie, is traumatized to the point of becoming mute after being buried in the rubble with her dead mother. Louisa takes a special interest in Gracie, but she adores all of the children and does everything she can to give them a good home. When the war gets nearer, and tragedy strikes for Louisa, she must put her fears aside to make sure the children feel safe.

This story is both heartbreaking and heartwarming. It is deeply emotional and beautifully written. This will forever be a favorite of mine.

Thank you, NetGalley and Bookouture for the eARC of this 5-star book.

The House for Lost Children by Marty Wingate is a tender, emotionally charged World War Two novel that stayed with me long after I turned the final page. Thank you to Bookouture and NetGalley for my gifted ARC in exchange for an honest review.

There’s something delicious about settling in with a historical novel that feels like slipping into a well-worn armchair—comforting and familiar, but with enough creaks to remind you that history is never entirely at rest. This book offered that feeling in spades. From the moment Louisa Brightford opened her home to a busload of evacuated children, I felt as though I was there in the drafty hallway, listening to the shuffle of little feet and the creak of the stairwell. Wingate paints her setting so vividly you can practically smell the baking bread and hear the wireless crackling in the background. And yes, the war looms at the edges, but much like the hedgerows around Louisa’s home, the heart of this book is what grows inside—love, loyalty, and the occasional outbreak of laughter in the face of fear.

Louisa is a character you root for without hesitation. She’s capable without being flawless, warm without being saccharine, and utterly devoted to her charges, especially the solemn, dark-eyed Gracie who quickly becomes her shadow. Jack, the teacher who arrives with the evacuees, brings a quiet steadiness and, dare I say, a dash of wartime charm. Their slow-blooming relationship feels authentic—no rushed confessions or swooning under the moonlight, but rather the kind of bond forged in the rhythm of shared responsibilities, cups of tea, and the occasional stolen dance to a gramophone tune.

One of my favorite lines from the novel is: “In times of darkness, love is not a luxury—it’s the only light we have.” It’s simple, it’s poignant, and it resonates deeply in a story where hope has to be a deliberate act. Wingate doesn’t shy away from the grief that comes with war. When Louisa receives devastating news about her son David, the narrative could have tipped into melodrama, but instead it offers something far more affecting—a quiet, dignified grief and the resolute choice to keep showing up for the children who still need her. It’s not about replacing loss; it’s about carrying it alongside the living.

What makes this novel stand out is its perfect balance of heartache and humor. There are small, perfectly observed moments—a misplaced boot, a child’s unexpected question at the dinner table, a mishap with the washing line—that made me smile even as the bigger story tugged at my heart. These lighter touches don’t dilute the weight of the war; they make it bearable, for the characters and the reader alike.

By the final chapters, I realized that this wasn’t just a story about wartime England or evacuee children—it was about chosen family, about finding a way to stitch together something whole from the frayed edges life hands you. Louisa, Jack, and little Gracie may not have started as a family, but by the end, there’s no question they’ve built one, even if the world outside their door remains uncertain.

This is the kind of book that makes you appreciate the quiet heroism of everyday acts—setting an extra place at the table, tucking in a child who isn’t your own, finding the courage to dance while the world is at war. It’s a novel to read slowly, to savor, preferably with a blanket over your knees and a pot of tea within reach. And if, like me, you find yourself blinking away tears in the final pages, know that they’re well-earned.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

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