In luscious prose, Thorp explores the nameless queen’s untold story, one that—in keeping with the spirit of Shakespeare’s original—is rife with cruelty, betrayal and passion ... Learwife is gorgeously written, its language ornate and heady ... Thorp carefully embeds clues to Queen’s banishment within her alarming memories of her children ... Thorp doesn’t abandon the theme of greed in Shakespeare’s play, but she does flesh it out to reveal how desperate the women in King Lear would have been for any scrap of agency in their lives. The novel’s scenes with Queen and her daughters are its most affecting; I wish Thorp had given us more ... Though Thorp ratchets up the tension three-quarters of the way through, readers would have been better served if she had inserted more suspense among the stunning early descriptions of life at the abbey. Thorp applies subtle pressure when what the story needed, at times, was a firm shove. But the novel’s crest and denouement are artful and moving ... it’s a beautiful triumph nonetheless.

Learwife is an original and highly accomplished debut ... One of the joys of this book is seeing characters such as Goneril and Regan through a new lens ... Thorp is a stylish writer, who blends old and new worlds in prose that is elegant, rhythmic and innovative ... The queen is a complex character, on the one hand deserving of sympathy, on the other brilliantly defiant about her brutal mothering style ... Occasionally the harking to the past feels repetitive, but for the most part it is well balanced with present action at the abbey. Metatextual references add depth...and the book is rich with period detail, from a tunic with Flemish thickness, to Kent’s five rules for succeeding in court.

Learwife is written in an understandable modern style, but it takes place in an undefined historical period where convents and Christianity coexist with pre-Christian belief systems, and this combination of modern style (and, to some extent, a modern sense of the main character’s inner life) has its drawbacks—a reader who would like to picture the larger society and locate where the novel is taking place is out of luck ... As with many stream-of-consciousness novels, Thorp has to walk the thin line between a character who reveals her feelings and thoughts constantly, thereby seeming rather self-obsessed and off-putting, and showing what the character sees around her and what the larger picture is. Since the queen is confined and doesn’t understand the larger picture, her detailed narrative can be a little slow—reading Learwife is a little like reading Ulysses—you either get used to it or you don’t. One thing the author is good at, but is also a challenge for the reader, is exploring how the queen’s own sanity is fading ... Learwife doesn’t work perfectly, but what debut novel does? Thorpe places her bet on psychological complexity that evolves into more psychological complexity as the story unfolds. You may have to read it twice before you take it in, but I believe it is worth it.

Learwife is told entirely from [the wife's] point of view. She is trapped in the convent, and we are trapped in her head; a cramped, often uncomfortable vantage point—but also a view as wide as memory ... JR Thorp, who has written short stories but is best known as a librettist of choral works and especially opera, uses these lendings sparingly. Certain phrases cannot but leap out, rather in the way they leap out when one goes back to Shakespeare, because they have so entered the language we might feel the man who coined them is writing cliches. In Thorp’s hands they are effective grace notes on other deliberate echoes of structure—love tests, mock courts, blindings—or subject: ungrateful children, grief ... The risk, of course, is that this richness could capsize the craft of the novel, and sometimes, especially in the earlier parts, it threatens to do so. Abundance calls attention to itself, threatens to weigh the story down like a bough overburdened with blossom ... And there are tics of rhythm and of generalisation that could have been weeded out a fair bit. But in the second half plot and emotion rise to meet the language. I ended Learwife feeling utterly involved: moved and exhausted.

Thorp writes a poetic prose...often beautifully, though it makes for a somewhat static narrative ... The novel is written, as is fashionable, in the present tense, and, as usual this makes for some fine word-painting while depriving the narrative of any vigour. Instead of a story, we get a succession of set-pieces, reflections and descriptions. Many of these are pleasing, some beautiful. There is no doubt that Thorp is a talented writer and an ambitious one. Learwife is a first novel, and self-indulgence, displaying the author’s natural ability and gifts, is of course a characteristic of many first novels. The result is a book that cries out for what has sadly become a rarity in the publishing world today: a strong editorial hand. This would have been a better novel at half the length.

JR Thorp’s vivid debut novel gives voice to one of fiction’s most conspicuously absent women ... In Thorp’s lyrical novel, Learwife looks back over her past while trying to navigate an uncertain future. Slowly, she unravels the mystery of why she was disposed of in the first place ... lofty themes are bolstered by the texture of Thorp’s writing ... This makes it something of a Marmite read. Whether or not you like the book will depend on your threshold for olde-worlde syntax and compound word metaphors ... While Thorp’s distinctive style is heady and evocative for the most part...some Learwife lines remind me more of the King James Bible than of the Bard ... Learwife is a formidable character, yet she has still struggled to be heard over the din of a medieval man’s world. Listen closely and you will discern the indignant, timeless refrain of a woman ignored, displaced, forgotten.

The text has a cadence reminiscent of blank verse, while the word structure evokes Old English in translation, which is fitting and lovely for a tale originally set in the eighth century. Thorp’s poetic prose contrasts with the steely character of a queen at once sympathetic and fearsome. This literary novel offers an intriguing new take on an old story—the play itself and the power dynamics between men and women, mothers and daughters.