Like Tom Crewe’s The New Life, this was one of the Guardian’s 2023 debuts to look out for, and both are seriously sexy. Patrick’s unnamed narrator is an early-twenties Australian, shunned by her family, who has come to England to be a matron at a girls’ boarding school. No other characters are named, either, with The Girls discussed in aggregate and the whole institution – a tradition-bound place that issues a classical education – in thrall to the memory of “the dead author,” an Emily Brontë-like figure whose genius is both inspiration and burden.

The narrator is butch and wears a binder, and in fact, we soon learn, is not the only lesbian on staff. She and the Housemistress become drinking buddies, even venturing into the nearest large town to frequent a gay bar. But there’s also Mrs S, the headmaster’s wife, perhaps 20 years her senior, whose attention initially seems maternal – as they tend the rose garden, lead an art lesson together and fill in for a play performance – but gradually becomes more erotic when they go wild swimming and meet in the kitchen during a dinner party.

A heat wave gives the novel a sultry atmosphere as hints give way to explicit scenes. The Girls’ little dramas (one punches a boy and breaks his nose at a campus party; one group gets drunk while another gets high on mushrooms) pale in comparison to the steamy secrets. Summer romances can never last, but their intensity is legendary, and this feels like an instant standard of the type. Given the pre-Internet clues, it likely dates to the 1990s, and Mrs S and the narrator are on different pages about gender roles; had it been today, the narrator would surely have been frankly nonbinary like Patrick.

"Her heterosexuality, public-facing. Its cosy violence. Who does she want to be? If I ask her that, she might fall apart. If I ask her that, I must be willing to live through the answer. … She is trying to be two people, I am not. Maybe I was. Not anymore."

The author takes the no-speech-marks thing to another level, the dialogue all in paragraph form with no new lines for each speaker. That and the under-punctuation are deliberate choices that make this somehow hyper-contemporary and a throwback to the Bloomsbury modernists all at once – what with the metaphors of propagating roses and garden fecundity, I couldn’t help but think of Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West. Mrs S isn’t your average coming-of-age story, seduction narrative, or cougar stereotype. It’s a new queer classic.

This is an intriguing and original read. A young Australian woman gets a job at a girls' boarding school, somewhere unnamed in England. She is a lesbian - and soon after she arrives, so begins the infatuation with 'Mrs S', the headmaster's wife. Clearly, Mrs S has feelings for the narrator, too, and what follows is a fairly intimate insight into the lives of these women.

'Mrs S' is an anonymous book - throughout, we don't learn characters' names. We have 'The Housemistress' and 'The Girls', along with 'Mrs S', of course. There is a large amount of deception and sneaking around in this book, probably one of the main reasons K.Patrick, the author, decided to make things as anonymous as possible. At times, it is quite explicit - but at the heart of this is a love affair between two women who are in a somewhat perilous situation.

The writer formats the book in a way which makes it a more intense read compared to if it was more conventional - for example, the lack of speech marks and the dialogue running on from one character to another. Even though I found this quite annoying, it makes sense given the nature of the story.

The novel is timeless in some ways - it doesn't feel very contemporary but then it also doesn't feel as if it is set in a different time. Ultimately, I guess it doesn't matter, and the same applies to the lack of characters' names. 'Mrs S' is a good read - but right at the end, the reader's allegiance shifts, and leaves one feeling empathy more with the titular character and less affiliation with the narrator.

Mrs S — Review by Richard Weekes

“I just had this impulse to write a horny lesbian novel.” Thus spoke K Patrick, explaining the wellspring of Mrs S, set in a girls’ boarding school somewhere in the shires of England, and focused on a lesbian affair between the school’s Matron, just turned 22 and recently arrived from Australia, and the headmaster’s wife, the eponymous Mrs S, in her forties.

Patrick may have undersold her novel, which has considerable literary merit. In the same interview, she went on to say: “Sapphic literature sometimes has this chasteness to it and I wanted something that felt a bit more true to my experiences. That sexuality can also be expressed in really intense and sudden and electrifying ways — it’s not all long, long letters. That’s why I started using the word ‘horny’ instead of ‘erotic’. Everyone hates it, but it does the job.”

Take your pick, as both apply. Yet the book is much more than a steamy potboiler. The pared-down style is set from the first word: ‘She’. Neither first nor second names appear in Mrs S. Females take a capital letter: Matron, The Housemistress, The Nurse, Mrs S, The Girls. Males are diminished, in lower case: the headmaster, the reverend, the gardener.

Neither will you find a single quote mark. Direct speech is rendered within the stream-of-consciousness narrative provided throughout by the Aussie Matron. It takes some getting used to, as individual paragraphs may include 10 or more alternating items of dialogue.

Take this example. The protagonist, desperate to inveigle herself into the company of Mrs S, has offered to help her prune the roses in the headmaster’s garden, yet has turned up for that task in an unsuitable T-shirt, quickly suffering cuts on arms and torso. Mrs S takes her up to her bedroom, offering her one of her husband’s long-sleeve shirts. Outside a group of The Girls are sunbathing, pretending to revise. As Mrs S helps her on with the shirt — the first time in the book they have made physical contact — Mrs S asks her if she wishes she could be like The Girls, a teenager again:

“Would you go back? She stays with their laughing. No longer touching me. You mean be their age again? . . . It wasn’t so long ago for you, though, was it? The fabric snaps into place finally, hugging the edges of my bone, my skin. Her touch returns. Oh, it’s perfect, look. She strokes the collar as if we are leaving for a party, one button done up, then undone. I return to our conversation. It was long enough ago, you know, I’m 22 . . . The Girls have fallen into a leisurely silence. Laughter replaced with sunlight. Anyway, I wouldn’t do it, be their age again. She steps away. Takes me in from a short distance. No? No.”

The novel centres on a series of encounters between the Matron and Mrs S, some occurring within the life of the school, others engineered by one or other of them.

They both join a group of Girls in the art centre, helping them paint over a vast pencilled copy of Picasso’s Guernica, which will become the backdrop of the school play, The House of Bernarda Alba, by Lorca.

When the Girls begin to tire from the work, Mrs S takes each of their painting hands in turn to guide them as they colour in some of the smaller details. When they have all had a turn, Mrs S offers to do the same with the Matron. “I brace myself to feel everything, to be able to re-examine her touch later, to be able to slow it down into some sort of understanding. Impossible. She moves at speed. I think, briefly, she slips her fingers between my knuckles. Maybe not, maybe she doesn’t. Desire is still only a shape, an outline.”

They have already agreed to go for a swim the following day at a secret spot Mrs S knows in the countryside. The Matron’s memories of that day will become an obsession, though she is left in no doubt that Mrs S holds the power in the relationship: “Muscle, water. That day is a parallel universe, set afloat upon my body. She has created a lack so effortlessly. Is it knowingly, or unknowingly, done? I try to shift under her gaze in the corridor. She doesn’t bend, only nods her head, walking past.”

In the end, the inequality of power will determine their future. When the Matron, hauled in by the headmaster to account for an illicit drinking party by some of the Girls, takes the rap herself to protect her gay buddy, the Housemistress, the Matron offers her resignation from the school. That leaves Mrs S and the Matron with a decision to make about how much they value a future life together.

I thought I would really like this - it had hints of everything I liked from unusual narration to a queer love story - and was much hyped, but I just couldn’t get into it at all. There was too much disorientation for me, with no obvious (to me at least) clues of where we were in time and space to observe this story. I got 20% through and sadly had to give up.

In this captivating novel, Mrs. S by K. Patrick, readers are immersed in an elite English boarding school, where traditions and expectations intertwine with hidden desires and personal struggles. Against the backdrop of immense privilege and societal constraints, the author skillfully navigates the complexities of identity, desire, and the power dynamics that shape our lives.

The story centers around a young Australian woman who takes on the role of "matron" in the school, stepping into a world vastly different from her own. The author beautifully captures her initial uncertainty, highlighting her struggle to find her place amidst the haughty rituals of the institution. The students of the school are referred to as “The Girls” and they take any perceived weakness and use it on those around them.

Mrs. S, the headmaster's wife, a magnetic character and the picture of femininity becomes the matrons obsession. In a simmering heatwave, their connection deepens, and a sensuous and erotic affair unfolds, characterized by an electric intensity that leaps off the page. The exploration of their desires and the unspoken tension between them is masterfully rendered, pulsating with raw emotion.

K. Patrick's portrayal of the butch experience is revelatory, offering a fresh perspective on the contested terrain of bodies, desires, and societal constraints. Through the characters of the matron and Mrs. S, the author delves into the complexities of identity and the freedom that comes from embracing one's true self. This exploration is thought-provoking, shedding light on the universal struggle for authenticity and the lengths we go to discover our own desires.

The prose in Mrs. S is evocative and immersive, painting vivid scenes that transport readers into the world of the boarding school. The author's descriptive prowess creates a palpable atmosphere, heightening the tension and sensuality that permeate the narrative. Additionally, the portrayal of the boarding school environment and its hierarchical dynamics adds an intriguing layer to the story, reflecting the power imbalances present in both the personal and social spheres.

While Mrs. S is a compelling and provocative read, there are moments when the pacing feels uneven. The languid heatwave setting, while beautifully portrayed, may contribute to occasional lulls in the plot's progression. However, these moments also serve to deepen the introspective nature of the novel, allowing readers to delve further into the characters' internal struggles.

Mrs. S by K. Patrick is a mesmerising exploration of desire, identity, and societal constraints. Through skillful prose and complex characters, the author illuminates the multifaceted nature of human relationships and the power of self-discovery. This novel marks the arrival of a unique literary voice, offering a compelling and thought-provoking reading experience that lingers long after the final page.

"| don't live an exterior life... I've spent a lifetime focusing on the interior, a place that happens without me, organs passing their intimate thoughts, the chase of blood, valves clenching and releasing. Stunning inevitabilities"
This was such an interesting read and I loved it. From the subtle and understated telling of dramatic events, to the choice to leave characters nameless, the events timeless, and the narrative continuous.
Patrick made the language their own through an honest detailed portrayal of first person thoughts. At times I can see that this writing style will not be for everyone but I personally enjoyed it.
Towards the end, some sections began to feel repetitive which did lead me to mark it down in ratings but overall a captivating read.

"When she is not around, I invent her. When she is around, I invent her."

3.5 stars!

Firstly, I loved the heavy descriptive nature of the story and I enjoyed the insights of the main character who we saw the world and other characters through. The internal conflicts of sexuality, queerness and representation and how it affected the ways in which the main character was able to connect in a variety of relationships was lovely to read.

The flow is of the story was rather heavy and slow to begin with. It was an adjustment reading the story without the usual breaks and punctuation related to when characters speak, I will admit that it did break the immersion I felt in the story at points. However, the pacing reached in the last half allowed the story and tension to run wonderfully.

Overall an enjoyable book focusing on the complications of love and the ideas of conformity.

Thank you to Netgalley and 4th Estate and William Collins for the eARC, I am voluntarily leaving a review.

Stuck halfway through. The writing itself is tremendous, but I'm just not managing to find the subject matter interesting so far. Nothing much has happened after 150 pages and, although the repressed intensity seems to suggest something will at some point, I just have too many things to read at the moment to keep going for now.

K Patrick has done a brilliant job of portraying that electrifying rush of pining and longing for someone, while aching to be seen and to hide at the same time.

I'm really grateful to be approved for this book and I wish I had enjoyed it more but I suspect the issue is with the timing that I read it rather than the book itself. The writing is beautiful and the story too but I just found it really hard to follow and it felt both too slow and too fast, I kept feeling like I'd missed something important. The writing is gorgeous though and I definitely would like to read more from this author.

Oh dear.

Listen, on paper this book has all the things I love: queers, women, boarding school, literary fiction genre, intriguing ideas.

In reality, it all falls flat and it's very boring. Plus, he lack of quotation marks, or line breaks between people speaking really wrecked my head - and I'm used to literary fiction!

Unfortunately this book was not my cup of tea and I struggled to finish it. Now, this wasn't for me but I can think of a few people I know who would absolutely devour this book.

Mrs S, K Patrick

An interesting story of love and attraction, where “miss”, an Australian housekeeper is placed at a private girls’ school and becomes attracted to Mrs S, the headmaster’s wife.

The attraction between “miss” and Mrs S is mutual and their relationship develops with love and obsession on one side and sexual attraction on the other.

I felt that the characterisation was a little too stereotypical – the butch lesbian making advances to the beautiful and attractive, out of reach older woman.

I found the narrative unusual with little punctuation, sentences, speech marks. But the more I read, the more I got used to it and the more I really enjoyed this style of prose. It actually reminded me of reading Chaucer.

Thank you to NetGalley and 4th Estate and William Collins for a copy of this book, I rate it 4 stars.

I was sent a copy of Mrs S by K Patrick to read and review by NetGalley. While I gave this book 4 stars as overall I enjoyed the novel, there were some things about it that I did struggle with. It took me a while to get into the way it was written as there is no real delineation within the prose, no chapters, no marking when the time frame shifts and no speech marks at all. In fact it is almost a stream of consciousness, sometimes with not even a paragraph break between one ‘scene’ and another. Having said this I thought that the prose itself was well written and being first person it gave a very emotive and emotional feeling to the story. The writing was descriptive and I could picture everything about the location and the characters, however, I may be deemed a prude but personally I could have done without such explicit sex scenes!

Excellent - construction of 'space' between characters/ bodies and voices/thoughts. Made me think about how and in what ways are people separate (or not) from one another. Will recommend to my students.

<i>Miss Miss Miss. What else could I ask them to call me? Matron is the job title. Strange as it is, that might sound better, a nice word to wear. At least I could taste a little butch in it, a pair of crossed arms, a dramatic mole, a stiff back. No, Miss instead. </i> (location 25)

This is a book I just randomly came across on Netgalley and it seemed to hit a few of my buttons — a butch lesbian working at a girls’ boarding school, a forbidden romance with the headmaster’s wife. Honestly I didn’t really know what I was getting myself in for — the publicity made it seem kind of dark academia-ish, which it didn’t really turn out to be in the end. But I’m very glad that I read it, because it’s great!

Our unnamed protagonist is a ‘matron’ at an English girls’ boarding school. She’s an outsider, a butch lesbian from Australia, and she develops an attraction to the character named only Mrs. S, the headmaster’s wife. She befriends another member of staff, the 'Housemistress' who turns out to also be a lesbian, and the novel goes from there: a wonderfully erotic exploration of desire and repression.

I loved the prose style of this book, although it won’t be for everyone — so let me warn you right away if you can’t abide any of the following: no chapter breaks; dialogue not marked by speech marks or paragraph breaks; every paragraph pretty much the same length. At first I found the style difficult, but as I read it I found the relentless pace of it suited the subject matter perfectly. There’s no space given to thoughts, no moment where our protagonist stops and thinks, thoughts and each character's words all mixed in together. So, don’t be put off at the start; it does get easier.

What worked most for me in this book was the feeling of repression. The environment of the school and the rural location so vividly depict the aching loneliness of being an outsider.

I loved the presentation of the protagonist’s gender. They’re a butch lesbian who wears a binder, gender ambiguous, lacking the language and space to describe themselves to others.

<i>You can tell me. Her empathy is working overtime, she prides herself on an instinct for those that struggle. Please try, do try. I use it to fltatten my chest. I let her do the rest. Flatten it? Yes. What, so, to be more like a man? Here is another word that doesn’t work. Man. The priority she affords it. I want to correct her. I don’t know it it’s ‘like a man’, it’s more about masculinity. Same thing. I don’t think it is.</i> (location 2325)

The eroticism in this book is also wonderful. Yeah, the sex scenes are great, but it’s the sense of anticipation and desire which really stands out for me.

Read this if you like: good sex scenes, butch lesbian protagonists, repressive English environments.

A slow-burn lesbian romance - of sorts! - set in a stiff-as boarding school in England, Mrs S - in theory - ticks all my boxes - it's giving observations on sexuality! It's giving tension! It's giving teenage girls and their unholy nature! Hopefully!

Instead, what I got was a book that was so obtuse as to be almost unreadable. I couldn't bring myself to keep reading, instead trying it on audio (I am writing this after pub date) but couldn't make that work for me either. Maybe I'm the problem but I s imply couldn't concentrate on it.

Anyway, the plot, such as it is: an unnamed main character - young, gay, Australian - arrives at a boarding school and becomes infatuated with the wife of the headmaster, the titular Mrs S.

The writing is extremely sparse - no punctuation marks, short staccato sentences, a very plain-spoken voice. Again, something that usually does it for me! But this was just a little too spare in my opinion, and it made it harder to follow the story or care for the characters. K Patrick has been named one of the Granta best of young British novelists for 2023 - a huge honour - so who am I to criticise this writing, in fairness.

I hoped this would be a deeply horny book but the chunk I read was staid as hell; perhaps things escalate - and I am sure they do - but I coudn't push through the detached writing. A disappointment as it was one of my most anticipated books of the year!

Thank you to the author, the publisher and Netgalley for approving me for this one, nevertheless.

K Patrick’s debut novel, Mrs S, is the story of a young, unnamed Australian woman who takes up the role of Matron at an elite English girls’ boarding school. Here she encounters Mrs S, the headmaster’s wife, with whom she is immediately captivated, and the two begin a secret relationship.

The novel is beautifully written - almost stream-of-consciousness, with flowing, evocative prose. The unique style might be off-putting for some, with the lack of punctuation marks making it occasionally difficult to differentiate between the narrator’s thoughts, her speech, and other character’s dialogue. I found this was very effective at contributing to the claustrophobic, gothic mood that Patrick creates. The isolated setting of the school leaves the narrator feeling alone and focussed solely on Mrs S as well as the Housemistress, her only friend, as her source of escapism.

I had some issues with the slightly anti-climactic ending of the novel. It felt that the story could only have been building to one possible ending, and I’m not convinced that it was executed very effectively - it felt a tad rushed and forced.

In all, this is a very impressive debut and a really beautiful novel.

This novel follows a young Australian woman who takes on the role of matron at an all girls, English boarding school, where her fascination with Mrs. S, the headmaster's wife, evolves into a passionate affair.

There are many things I enjoyed about this book: how the unrelenting heatwave contributed to the tension and stifling claustrophobia of the narrative, the depiction of the quintessential English boarding school, and the sensual depiction of queer love.

My issue with the book (one I think will make or break the reading experience for readers) is the writing style. While I don't often mind dialogue without speech marks or "he said/she said" signifiers, I find that when the technique is combined with short, staccato sentences, it can make for frustrating read that lacks flow. It may be a literary technique by the author to capture how the unnamed narrator thinks, so I would be interested to read this author's sophomore novel in the future.

Sadly not for me in the end, but I am glad I read it. 2.5 - 3 stars, rounded up.

Patrick's writing is sensuous and provocative, drawing readers into a world of hidden desires and forbidden liaisons. The plot is filled with unexpected twists and turns, keeping readers guessing until the very end. With its combination of suspense and eroticism, Mrs S is a captivating and addictive read that pushes boundaries and leaves a lasting impact.

5⭐️ // ARC provided by the publishers via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

'When she is not around, I invent her. When she is around, I invent her. It is not her fault.'

!!!! This story was completely captivating and devastating in equal measure.

It centres around a quaint English boarding school, where a young Australian woman arrives to take up the job of a matron - and is unexpectedly drawn into a relationship with the headmaster's wife.

K. Patrick's prose feels raw and yet considered, and the claustrophobic atmosphere of the heatwave which shapes the narrative is mirrored by the intense, cloying obsession that the characters fall into together. Unbearably beautiful and inevitably tragic, the tale of their relationship sat with me for a long time after reading.