Mrs Jekyll by Emma Glass – Dylan Thomas Prize Longlist Celebration

One of my favourite prizes of the year is the Swansea University Dylan Thomas Prize, which is open to writers in English under the age of 39 (Thomas’ age at his death). It always throws up an eclectic mix of books covering all the bases. Once again, I am delighted to take part in the longlist celebration (here are my posts from 2024, 2021, 2020, 2019,).

One of the titles in this year’s longlist that I was keenest to read was Mrs Jekyll by Emma Glass, and I was delighted to receive a copy to review via Midas PR who are handling the award. Emma Glass also happens to be a Welsh author, so this title also fits with Reading Wales Month hosted by Karen at Bookertalk.

The title alone conjures up all kinds of visions. Robert Louis Stevenson’s novella (my review here) has the good man Dr Jekyll gradually more possessed by Mr Hyde, his evil side, after drinking a potion that lets him out. Thus, in this contemporary story inspired by the original, is Mrs Jekyll telling the wife’s side of the tale, or is she a gender-swapped version of Stevenson’s protagonists?

Before I discuss the book further, I should mention that it was as the late Deborah Orr was dying that she had this idea for her next book. Sadly it wasn’t to be, but new-to-me indie publisher Cheerio commissioned Emma Glass to write it, and she has done Orr proud. This is a fine novella indeed, in turns shocking and moving.

Rosy Winter is a primary school teacher, nearly was a primary school teacher. She’s dying: she has cancer, but she wants to live the life she has left, if she can. Her loving husband Charlie does everything he can for her, he’s wonderful verging on claustrophobic at times. Her sister, meanwhile…

Near the beginning of the book, there is a passage that will resonate with every primary teacher or teaching assistant taking a class of little ones to the city. Rosy is meeting her sister-in-law Sally for a girls’ day out, and Sally is worrying about how to meet up at the huge station.

You’ve never known true responsibility until you’ve taken twenty-four five-year-olds on the Underground to the Science Museum, watched them go two by two in their tiny pink hi-vis vests, counted them, little hands holding little hands, still pudgy, haven’t lost the baby fat yet.

You’ve never known true fear until you only count twenty-three.

But try not to panic, don’t let it take hold, it’ll close your throat. Relief chokes you when little fingers reach for yours, when you hear the sweet high excited voice that say, miss, look what I found! And the shiny penny clasped between thumb and forefinger held up for you to see, a treasure. So cross, you want to snatch it from the, so happy, you want to shower them with a thousand shiny pennies. Count them, count them twice. Your eyeballs go dry in their sockets because you’ll never blink again in case you lose one. Keep your eyes peeled, become good at picking out faces in crowds. But Sally is right. Helps if they are wearing hi-vis vests. Or hats.

Sally has arranged something different for them to do, she’s booked a tarot reading. Sally finds it rather banal, but when its Rosy’s turn, something happens – the catalyst for the rest of the story. The reader, Jacqui, turns over The Priestess, ‘A symbol of intuition and the sub-conscious. She wants you to look inwards and trust your own power.’ However it is paired with The Devil. Jacqui explains he symbolises temptation and the darkness within everyone. Sally leaves the room, giving Jacqui the chance to tell Rosy, she has someone with her, and that she can help her harness her power. Rosy is justifiably spooked.

However, she can feel there’s something different about her, and what emerges is her dark side taking over; a visceral, sexual, hungry being. Glass’s writing style changes into short, snappy, hard hitting, sentences, set out as a prose poem.

Birth is wet.

Brand-new fingers
Peeling back mucosa
Pressing down on muscle
Emerging from the wetness of mouth

Spit me out.

Without telling you any more about the specific story, events will happen that will resonate with those familiar with Stevenson’s original, and the inevitable will happen. As a metaphor for the cancer that is devouring her, Rosy’s alter-ego is a powerful all-consuming creation, truly scary. Glass’s writing is lyrical and detailed with each word in its place, no unnecessary ones. Mrs Jekyll is both a quick read, but you’ll read everything twice – better to pace yourself and savour the exquisite text and the suspense she creates. Surely this novella is a contender for the Prize.