In The Mistresses of Cliveden, author Natalie Livingstone has re-assembled the history of Cliveden and the story of its châtelaines. The finished product alternates between the high born behaving badly and an architectural primer. This is neither wonderful nor terrible. The chapters on Augusta (mother of 13-colonies'-tyrant George III) and Harriet (BFF to none other than Queen Victoria herself) were the most interesting on a personal level.
As for the house, I wish Livingstone had devoted more ink to its use as a Canadian hospital during World War I, particularly as the hospital at Cliveden was not located within the house, as it was at Highclere Castle, but was actually a brand-new, specially-constructed facility located on the grounds. Unfortunately, the treatment of house-as-hospital is consistent with much of the book. Livingstone spends minimal time describing the routines of the hospital, the ways in which various family members interacted with it, or what the men themselves thought. In other words, surface deep.
This is frustrating because there are stories here, no question, but in focusing so squarely (narrowly?) on the house's mistresses, Livingstone's approach to many of them feels too oblique. Beyond the hospital example, above, I'd over the treatment of Nancy Astor's string of butlers and maids. Surely there's more to tell than what is written here, and I'd bet dollars to donuts it would add a little more color to tell it, but instead the reader gets only a handful of lines and the merest outlines of the story.
Final verdict: An ambivalent two-and-three-quarters stars. I've already said the book is not terrible, so fewer seems mean spirited, but there is too much could-have-been for it to merit more.
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