100 Books Like Diary of William Tayler, Footman 1837

This is one of the first books that I remember buying for myself in graduate school. Cullwick’s descriptions of her relationship with upper-class Arthur Munby (whom she eventually married) and the photographs of her dressed as a maid-of-all-work, a lady, a “slave,” an agricultural worker, and a valet highlight Victorian power negotiations and performativity.

Cullwick started working as a servant at the age of eight. From her diaries, I learned much about the daily lives of domestic servants: their relationships with employers, the different levels of service and employment networks, and the sheer amount of hard, physical labor that it took to run a Victorian household.

In spite of its title, Eric Horne’s What the Butler Winked At does not contain any really juicy tales about his employers. But what it does do is lift the lid on Horne’s working experiences as a footman, valet and butler during a career spanning 50 years, starting in the 1870s. 

Interestingly, Horne wrote his book in 1923 at a time when the great country estates were beginning to break up and he was struggling to find work. Horne was not a professional writer so there are grammar issues; also, some of the anecdotes may not be amusing to modern readers. But the book is packed with fascinating details about what life was like working in domestic service, not just for male servants, but female servants too.

Elizabeth Banks was an American journalist who settled in London around 1893. She undertook a series of ‘adventures’ in which she posed as a laundry girl, a crossing sweeper, a flower girl, a chaperone, an heiress, and a domestic servant. In working as a maid, she hoped to discover why domestic service ‘was looked upon with so much contumely’. 

Originally published as "In Cap and Apron" in the Weekly Sun, Elizabeth’s experiences were then published in 1894 in Campaigns of Curiosity: Journalistic Adventures of an American Girl in London. It’s not clear how much artistic licence Elizabeth used when describing her time in domestic service, but she does provide some interesting details about the duties of staff in households where three or four servants were employed.

With this book, you get two servants for the price of one! This is a collection of memories from working women who were members of the Women’s Co-operative Guild. The two servants are Mrs. Layton (chapter titled "Memories of Seventy Years") and Mrs. Wrigley (chapter title "A Plate-Layer’s Wife"). Mrs. Wrigley’s recollections of domestic service only span three pages, but she describes her first place, aged nine, as a servant-of-all-work in heart-breaking detail. Mrs. Layton describes ten years in service from the age of ten with some kind (and not so kind) employers. After her marriage, she became a midwife. 

It’s never the plot that draws me to a novel; it’s always other ingredients like people and place and, in these regards, Cranford is a stellar delight. The protagonist is a frequent house guest in the small town of Cranford, giving readers intimate access to the quirky social codes of its mostly female population. From the ones who care about social mores to the ones who care less, these wonderful vignettes document their attempts to outwit a visiting magician, or foil rumored night-burglars, or adapt to the losses of loved ones. Each woman has had a journey in some way stifled by the patriarchy of the 1800s but these ladies’ timeless and absorbing intelligence, compassion, loyalty, ingenuity, forbearance, and above all, wit, shine through.

The year is 1837 and Liberty is a fiercely independent young woman. The story begins with her crossing the Channel to find her father, only to discover that he had recently been killed in a duel. In the course of investigating what had happened, she comes upon a plot that involves treason, with the potential to spark another civil war.

What I love about Peacock’s work is her use of imagery in echoing a character’s psyche or situation. Horse lovers will enjoy Liberty’s relationship with her horse and her growing friendship with her good-hearted stable hand. I have not yet put my finger on it, but for some reason, I feel a hint of Edgar Allen Poe when I read her books.

I loved this book, which presented a suspect for the Jack the Ripper murders with a first-person approach that puts the reader inside the Ripper’s mind. I must admit I had never considered Dr Cream as a serious contender until I read this book, but Griffith-Jones removes all doubt with her immaculately researched account. I do like the amount of genuine research the author has put into writing her book.

I liked the atmosphere–vital in any historical novel–and the small details that always add to the feeling. 

Griffith-Jones introduced us to the underbelly of Victorian London through Cream’s eyes in a delicious manner. One felt as if one was there: I loved that.

To Say Nothing of the Dog is a fairly brilliant time-travel novel about a temporal historian named Ned Henry. Whether you like it will probably come down to taste. It made me laugh out loud more than once. I loved Cyril the dog. I loved Baines the butler. I may have developed a bit of a crush on Verity. (That has never happened to me with a character in a book before.) This book, which has been described as a symphony of a novel, radiates intelligence and good humour and belongs on your reading list, at the very top, if not slightly higher. 

Walter Sichel’s biography, for all its flaws, and the fact that more is available on Emma and Nelson now than was the case 120 years ago, is still a solid piece of work from a capable biographer and decent historian. There’s an elegance in the language that can be looked up to, and an understanding of the period that has few rivals. I view it like a pair of comfortable slippers. They aren’t perfect, perhaps with a hole in the toe, but you don’t want them to make an impression. You do, however, look forward to slipping them on. The other reason I like this book is that it means you don’t have to read any of the other Victorian biographies of Emma or Nelson, many of which are drivel.

I admit it: I underestimated Flavia de Luce.

She is 11 years old, self-schooled, and lives outside a small English town in the 1950s. She is overlooked and underestimated by everyone. Deep inside, I’m still 11 years old, underestimated, and overlooked. I had an insatiable desire to learn about my environment, and I often saw things others didn’t. Flavia also reminds me of my childhood living in the country in the 1980s. I ran unchecked, safe, and constantly delighted in discovering new things about my corner of the world. I wince at the de Luce family politics. I cheer Flavia’s investigations and her fearlessness. I want nothing more than to stay in Flavia’s 11-year-old world forever. She is the kick-ass kid I wanted to be.