But, gradually, the ominous and sinister start to encroach further eek, the cobra in Meg's bedroom! though we're kept hovering between knowing whether there is material danger stalking the sisters or whether it's just paranoia. It all comes to a glorious climax which is, arguably, more 'psychological' than some of Fremlin's later books. Having read, “The Hours Before Dawn,” Celia Fremlin’s debut, I was keen to read more by her. This, her second novel, was published in 1959 and how glad I am that I have discovered her. Definitely, Celia Fremlin is my discovery of the year and I am so pleased that her work has been reissued by Faber Finds. This book is full of tension and suspicion, which is all created by rumour, supposition and the vagaries of the human mind. Nothing graphic actually happens, but the author manages to create fear nonetheless, simply by letting then imaginations of the main protagonists run riot. Soon everyone is suspicious of everyone else and no one knows who they can trust, even their nearest and dearest. Fremlin is always wonderful for her acute observations and for the social history embedded in her books and, for the first half, the creepy element felt like an add on to me that rather distracted from all the delights of awkward children (Cedric, the boy who knows everything; Peter and 'sharkie' who lives under the caravan steps), squabbling with fellow guests at a nearby hotel over when to light a fire, and the inevitable colonel who wants to run everything. Celia Fremlin’s masterful approach to building atmosphere and tension is the standout element of Uncle Paul. She slowly ramps up the tension, introducing slightly off-kilter characters and somewhat peculiar situations to disorientate Meg as she reluctantly starts to agree with Mildred and then is forced to continuously second-guess her assumptions as events progress.

If you like Agatha Christie and/or Patricia Highsmith, you will enjoy this book very much. If you are looking for an Enid Blyton-esque read, maybe not so much! In this one, Meg, who is the youngest but most sensible of three sisters is summoned to a seaside resort by Isobel, who is worried about their older sister Mildred. Years ago, Mildred was on honeymoon at the same resort with her husband, the eponymous Uncle Paul, when she discovered that he had attempted to murder his first wife. Mildred betrayed him to the police, and now he is due to be released and may be seeking revenge By coincidence, Mildred is staying in the same cottage they honeymooners in all those years ago. The tension managed to build almost imperceptibly as the characters go about their seaside holiday with trip to the beach, fairground and hotels, all the whole the sisters start to worry about the people they are spending time with, could one of them be Uncle Paul in disguise? Reading it, I had a growing sense of unease, and the ending took me completely by surprise. This has unexpectedly shot to one of my top ranking for the wonderful Celia Fremlin, an author seemingly being rediscovered thanks to Faber. The setting is slightly atypical as Fremlin usually specialises in suburban unease - here the families are just as dysfunctional but there is the added fun and hilarity of taking them out of their usual habitat and dumping them down at the seaside complete with 1950s inconveniences (the caravan door that won't open unless you hurl your body at it), unpredictable British weather (rain one minute, hot sunshine the next), sand in the sandwiches... and the hovering spectre of a potential murderer out from a prison sentence and seeking revenge. The unflappable and almost pathologically competent Meg is summoned from London by a telegram from Isabel, her slightly older sister. Arriving at Southcliffe, the quintessential British seaside town where Isabel, her two sons and her new husband, when he can get away from the office anyway, are holidaying at a slightly run-down caravan park, Meg finds her sister in an even more harried state than normal. Still, as with many authors I like, even a so-so Fremlin is better than a lot of books. I didn't figure out who the culprit was, which was nice, but I also wasn't driven to keep reading as I was withe The Hours Before Dawn and The Jealous One, which is why it took me 2 months to read. Still, nice evocation of a seaside holiday, one much darker than R. C. Sherriff's lovely book, The Fortnight in September!

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Uncle Paul turned out to be a 1959 slow-burn, psychological thriller. Throughout the narrative, you keep wondering if anything is indeed happening or if our characters are ‘just’ somehow paranoiac, imagining threat where there is none. I think it delivered - well, I was satisfied - but I wouldn’t say this is to the level of Patricia Highsmith. Pretty decent nonetheless. What I did really like was the voice and writing style. The descriptions as indeed all the asides the characters made were fascinating, like a painting made of words. I giggled several times, re-read certain sentences often, savouring the “slice of life” depicted. A good weekend read :O) Well I loved this. I'd read a review saying it was old fashioned and dated but I didn't find it so at all, certainly no more so than any mid century Agatha Christie. There's maybe one or two references to women being hysterical or not being able to "hang onto" a man (rather than the man simply being a womanizer) but they are few and far between. I don't know if I liked this at all. I've recently read her debut novel The Hours Before Dawn, published in 1958. This one, her second novel is also a "domestic noir," published 1959. There are similar elements, the focus on women, very often the drudgery of domestic work; and women's roles as wife and mother. In the 50s there was the fairly rigid separation by gender: men in the work-place and women at home. It was generally younger, un-married women who had jobs - and this is Meg's situation, in her early 20s

Fremlin was an advocate of assisted suicide and euthanasia. In a newspaper interview she admitted to assisting four people to die.[1] In 1983 civil proceedings were brought against her as one of the five members of the EXIT Executive committee which had published “A Guide to Self Deliverance” , but the court refused to declare the booklet unlawful. The exploration of family dynamics is another strength of Uncle Paul. Fremlin delves into the complexities of the relationships among the sisters and between them and their loved ones, exposing the underlying tensions and conflicts that often exist within families. The portrayal of the strained relations between Isabel and her new husband, as well as the uncertain bond between Meg and the Bertie Wooster-esque Freddy, add depth to the narrative and reinforce the notion that anyone could be harbouring secrets. I loathed the characters of Isabel and Mildred, the elder sisters of Meg, our narrator, who is calm, rational and stable in contrast to the silly-willy, dithering, blethering, can't ever decide on anything Isabel, 10 years senior to Meg, and then Mildred is stubborn, rich, spoilt, purposeless and worse, as the plot develops. I can understand perhaps, that Isabel and Mildred are stereotypes of house-wifey, no career, no degree, middle-class women, who probably got on Fremlin's nerves; but really where is this going? Now, on his release from prison, is he returning for revenge, seeking who betrayed him? Or are all three women letting their nerves get the better of them? Though who really is Meg’s new lover? And whose are those footsteps …? Meg learns to be more accepting of the perspective of others; to not dismiss the silliness of women, who don't have good vocabs and rational faculties. And, then, she falls prey to the most demeaning of horrors. One night at the cottage, she screams herself hoarse, calling for her sister's help, who is an arm's length away in the other bedroom. But, Meg's door has been bolted from the outside - and there is no response from Mildred.It is rare for any catastrophe to seem like a catastrophe right at the very beginning. Nearly always, in the early stages, it seems more like a nuisance; just one more of those tiresome interruptions which come so provokingly just when life is going smoothly and pleasantly.Such a wonderful opening paragraph, full of foreboding. Unfortunately, for me, this failed to fulfill what looked so promising. Celia Fremlin’s Uncle Paul is an engrossing, slow-burning psychological thriller that skilfully blends suspense, family dynamics and the infuriating complexities of human relationships. Originally published in 1959, its gripping narrative and insightful exploration of the psyche ensure that it remains surprising and impactful despite certain aspects of the story now appearing a tad dated. In Uncle Paul, Fremlin – who has been dubbed ‘the grandmother of psycho-domestic noir’ – showcases her exceptional ability to craft a truly gripping psychological thriller. With its suspenseful narrative, well-developed characters and thought-provoking exploration of the human psyche, it’s an undeservedly forgotten classic of the genre that is certainly worthy of rediscovery. I have been on a mission to read all of Fremlin's books. I liked this one, but it definitely wasn't her best. It was a bit slow and I didn't identify with any of the main characters in the way that I did in her other books. I found them all rather silly. Or maybe that's the wrong word. Their motivations and views on the world seemed immature and more naive than I expect from women that of that age and experience, even in that era. Whereas I find her main character's in other books more believable.

Celia was born in Kingsbury, now part of London, England. She was the daughter of Heaver Fremlin and Margaret Addiscott. Her older brother, John H. Fremlin, later became a nuclear physicist. Celia studied at Somerville College, Oxford University. From 1942 to 2000 she lived in Hampstead, London. In 1942 she married Elia Goller, with whom she had three children; he died in 1968. In 1985, Celia married Leslie Minchin, who died in 1999. Her many crime novels and stories helped modernize the sensation novel tradition by introducing criminal and (rarely) supernatural elements into domestic settings. Her 1958 novel The Hours Before Dawn won the Edgar Award in 1960.However, to Meg’s surprise, Isabel doesn’t require help with her own mundanely taxing domestic troubles. Rather, she wants Meg to intervene in the latest drama involving their much older half-sister, the rich and highly vexing Mildred. There are some fantastically well-drawn observations, particularly around the child characters. There is Cedric the know-it-all, Peter who insists on everyone who goes up and down the caravan steps paying tribute to 'Sharkey' and Johnny, cheerily oblivious to the tension around him. Even the desperately unravelling Isabel is beautifully caught. As before, some of the dialogue and characters still feel eerily relevant. Still, there are other moments which prove that the past truly is another country where things are done differently. And as with Taylor's novels that sense of the Victorian era - how else to explain the several anecdotes from an elderly lady in her button-up boots. She's a guest in the Sea View Private Hotel, where a fair amount of the action takes place.