Broken Country (Reese's Book Club)

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What’s it about?

It is 1968, and Beth is living on a farm in rural England with her husband Frank. They have weathered the loss of their nine-year-old son Bobby and are slowly making their way back to each other when Beth’s first love, Gabriel, and his son, Leo, show up in their yard. Tensions rise as Beth and Gabriel are drawn back into one another’s lives.

What did it make me think about?

Women’s lives in 1968.

Should I read it?

This was just a good page-turner. The characters were each well-written, and the tension builds slowly. The farm itself and the way of life that is depicted in 1968 are an integral part of the story. There are just enough twists and turns to keep you interested. I have no doubt we will all be watching this on Netflix in a year or two. I highly recommend this book for anyone looking for a thoughtful thriller. It would make a great vacation read.

Quote-

“I know how this village works. The snooping, the chatter, a whispering undercurrent that blows through the lanes and the churchyard, the school, the shop, filters beneath the doors, behind windows. I know how the people watch, how they talk and conspire. Secrets are not safe here. They are harbored and chewed over until the people decide to release them, splintering lives with perfectly timed, needlepoint precision.”

Loved every second of it.

While the pacing was a little slow, one of the things I loved most was how the book explores the idea of home. I was vested in Beth's story immediately. Not just the place where you live, but the people who shape your identity and how you come to terms with what’s left when they’re gone. The dynamic between community, and in-laws, is complex—sometimes tender, sometimes strained, but always compelling. It’s also worth noting that this book is about survival—not just emotional survival, but the survival of the idea of marriage and love and commitment. The struggle with the idea of preserving what’s left of the legacy of her son while facing her own uncertain future is a beautiful yet painful exploration of resilience. A little clique, yes methinks it is.... If you’re a fan of slow-burn novels that dig deep into emotional landscapes and deal with themes of grief, identity, and rebuilding, then Broken Country is an absolute must-read. It may not be a lighthearted pick, but it’s one of those books that stays with you long after the last page. As for me? It took a while to digest, but I’d totally recommend it. So, if you're in the mood for something that’s more than just a story—it’s an experience—I’d say go for it. It's a book that doesn’t just get read; it gets lived. This is what the Author said to Reece Witherspoon about this book which I found interesting: This is not a review but the words the author shared with Reece Witherspoon about the book and her writing. From the outset I knew this was a novel about love in all its forms. I started with a question: is it possible to love two people at once? With Beth and her teenage lover Gabriel, I wanted to capture the unforgettable passion of first love, a euphoria that is so visceral it can sometimes feel it has been hardwired into your veins. I also wanted to write about the more hard-won and enduring love that Beth shares with her husband, Frank. And I wanted to explore the love of a mother for her son. The idea for Broken Country arrived in a thunderbolt of inspiration one fine Spring morning. We live in an old farmhouse surrounded by fields and my husband had been out running with our youngest son’s puppy. It was lambing season and when the dog strayed into a field of newborn lambs, the farmer threatened to shoot him. Luckily, that didn’t happen (Magnus is now seven, with a dignified sprinkling of gray in his muzzle) but a vivid scene came into my head. I could picture a young farmer and his wife surrounded by sheep and a distraught young boy chasing after his lost dog. I knew the boy reminded the couple of the child they had recently lost, and I could also sense a strong physical attraction between the farmer’s wife and the boy’s father. A readymade love triangle just waiting to be written! What I didn’t realise was that Broken Country would also become a love letter to landscape, and that Beth’s journey, learning to immerse herself in the natural world, is one I would follow myself. I knew there would be a farming family at the heart of the novel, and so I asked some local farmers if I could spend time with them, going about their day-to-day business. I learned how to milk cows (much harder than the farmer made it look!), I helped birth a lamb, I went combine harvesting. I stayed with a couple on a smallholding in Kent and saw firsthand how deeply they cared for their land and its wildlife. It was such a privilege to have this time, and it opened my eyes to the beauty of pastoral life. Farming was once a revered profession, but it has fallen out of favour. The hours are long, the pay is bad, the holidays non-existent. Yet none of the farmers I met would conceive of doing anything else. This wasn’t a job – it was their identity and reason for being. I learned so much from them and it changed forever my daily walk around our fields. Now, I find myself looking and listening in a way I simply didn’t before. In Broken Country, I wanted Beth to become a woman who is rooted in the land. A woman who can do everything the men can: birthing lambs, hefting haybales, bringing in the harvest. A mother who is taught to recognise every bird on the farm by her father-in-law and who teaches her son in turn, a thread of knowledge and belonging reaching back through the centuries like a trail of smoke. I think of Beth when I walk past the oak tree or pause by the horse chestnut to listen to the circling rooks. Beth is part of me now and, strange as it may sound, I think she helped me connect with the landscape around me and appreciate the small moments of beauty I see every day.

Lots of twists!

Broken Country is a beautifully written, emotionally layered novel that captures the quiet complexities of rural life and the inner turmoil of its characters. Clare Leslie Hall’s prose is both lyrical and grounded, offering a vivid sense of place and an intimate view into human relationships.

What makes this book stand out is its deep emotional resonance and the way it handles themes like memory, longing, and the weight of personal history. The pacing is thoughtful—sometimes slow, but purposefully so—allowing space to reflect on the characters’ inner lives.

The characters feel authentic, shaped by both their environment and their pasts. While the novel doesn’t rely on dramatic twists, it builds its emotional tension gradually and effectively. There are moments that truly linger with you.

It loses a star only because some readers might wish for a bit more narrative urgency or clarity in a few scenes. Still, it's a deeply moving read that rewards patience and reflection.

Highly recommended for readers who appreciate literary fiction with heart and atmosphere.