Laura Blundy

British writer Myerson (Sleepwalking; Me and the Fat Man) continues to produce unsettling novels that introduce eccentric characters, provocative themes and shocking situations. Set in Victorian London, this remorseless tale about a headstrong, eccentric murderess is a great, grisly pleasure. The eponymous heroine was raised in an upper-middle-class family, but when her father died, leaving large business debts, she was sent to the poorhouse; later, worse luck finds her living in the streets. At 38, Laura's life changes when she is struck down by a cab and hospitalized. She is saved by Ewan, a socially awkward surgeon (he lives with his belittling, critical mother) who amputates Laura's crushed leg, but she finds little reward in her new, stifling role as Ewan's wife. She has an affair with 23-year-old Billy, a married sewer laborer with four young children, and quickly this love turns to obsession. Laura decides to take matters into her own hands, so she tells Ewan she's leaving him, then brutally smashes his head in, watching his ""slosh of blood"" turn to ""jam and cream."" When she triumphantly announces her deed to Billy, he is, of course, horrified and baffled. ""Women are supposed to be the gentle sex,"" Laura muses, ""but that's a joke. Boys are the burned sugared apples--brittle on the outside and mushy within. Girls are spun candy--a cloud of pink fluff, with a hard stick rammed down the middle."" Laura's haunting story veers lucidly and frighteningly from disaster to disaster, but Laura's grim life never feels piteous. Rather, amoral Laura is an exciting, ribald figure who, with wild hair, missing teeth, itchy stump, unapologetic carnality and decidedly unromantic outlook, is a refreshing break from typical down-on-their-luck historic heroines. Myerson is crafty and unsparing with her words; the pages jump with a lively expressiveness that delivers a tremendous kick. (Oct.)