4+ ⭐

I was a bit misty eyed by the end of this.
Six days with Ivy, and yet I felt I knew her so well.
Admittedly, six very important days.
We start with a fairly ordinary family Easter, lunch and from there I was hooked.
Pulled on my heart strings a fair few times.

Six days of Ivys young life at the start of the War is intense as much as it's tragic.

Ivy is spending time with her family, who are rather free and easy about life when tragedy strikes and wordls and lives are changed forever.

This book is a great read. it is a slow burn but oh how I loved it.

The author is a good storyteller and I felt all emotions and gasped at times at what happened next.

Not what i expected at all but I like when a book surprises me..

I loved both The End We Start From and The Harpy making me keen to read Megan Hunter’s new novel which tells the story of Ivy, the daughter of a bohemian family, through six pivotal days in her life beginning with Easter Sunday in 1938 which ends in tragedy.
Nineteen-year-old Ivy wakes to what she expects to be a special day. Her beloved brother Joseph has invited the woman with whom he’s in love to stay and Ivy is eager to meet her. At a funeral, two weeks later she finds solace with a man much older than herself which will lead to marriage and children. Towards the end of the war, a friendship ripens into a love that might fulfil her longing for meaning, hopes dashed ten years later on a day in which she experiences an epiphany pointing her to another way of life. On the sixth day, Ivy remembers the many Easters she has lived through and the course her life has taken, understanding that her quest for meaning has been fulfilled.
Ivy’s story is unfolded from her own perspective although not in her own voice which suits this woman cast as an observer on the edges of a colourful family caught up in their own lives, unsure of her own place in the world. Hunter’s writing is luminously beautiful at times and there’s an elegiac quality to the early part of the novel which lends it a gentle melancholy. Throughout it all, Ivy remains haunted by the tragedy of 1938, unsure to the end if she might have played a part in it. Looking at other reviews, I see that some readers found Hunter’s novel unsatisfying, but I loved it, partly its structure suited it well but mostly for its quietly gorgeous writing.

Days of Light by Megan Hunter is a poignant exploration of a life shaped by both love and loss, set against the backdrop of a rapidly changing world. The story begins on Easter Sunday, 1938, when Ivy, a nineteen-year-old at the cusp of adulthood, eagerly awaits the arrival of a longed-for guest. Her bohemian family gathers in the idyllic Sussex countryside, and while Britain teeters on the brink of war, the day feels suspended in a timeless moment of possibility.

The day takes a tragic turn, setting the course for Ivy’s future and propelling the reader through six pivotal days spread across six decades. Each day marks a significant moment in Ivy's journey, offering a glimpse into the various stages of her life. Hunter's writing beautifully captures these moments, weaving through Ivy's experiences of love, self-discovery, and the search for answers to life’s deeper questions.

The narrative has a unique structure, beginning in the pre-war era, where Ivy’s family, with its unconventional dynamics, is as much an artistic and intellectual collective as it is a family. With an air of fluid sexuality and artistic expression, Ivy’s mother, Marina, lives in a bubble of work-focused isolation, oblivious to the lives unfolding around her. The family housekeeper, Anne, brings a sense of control and order to the household, yet her presence contrasts the swirling chaos within the family.

The tone of the book is delicate, almost timeless, with Hunter's lyrical prose creating a sense of an “old-fashioned” sensibility. The exploration of love, loss, and family dynamics is both intimate and sweeping. While the narrative may be considered contemporary, there’s an undeniable sense of nostalgia that permeates the book, evoking a world that feels far removed from the present.

Ivy’s journey is both deeply personal and universally relatable as she navigates the complexities of relationships, self-worth, and the inexorable passage of time. Days of Light is a beautifully written, emotionally resonant tale that will stay with you long after the final page, offering a meditation on life’s fleeting moments and the enduring search for meaning in a world on the verge of great change. Highly recommended for those who enjoy reflective, character-driven stories set against the ebb and flow of history.

Read more at The Secret Book Review.

This is a rather strange story; one in which nothing much happens, but everything happens. All reviewed from the perspective of a single day at different times in Ivy’s life. It starts with a very upper class setting; a family gathering at the country estate in 1938. Ivy is 19 and on the cusp of adulthood and looking forward to this Easter weekend gathering, unaware how events will shape her. I felt I started to knowIvy as a person; her character, aspirations etc and warmed to her. The family was an odd bunch, but it’s rich in detail and I was soon involved in her and their interests.

Using a single point of reference on five further occasions in Ivy’s life is an unusual narrative tool and by and large it works, It’s interesting to reflect on those threads that bind us and Megan Hunter has selected an eclectic mix of influences throughout Ivy’s life over some sixty decades. Her writing is effortless. It flows beautifully and it’s a story to devour with ease. That takes a real skill and there wasn’t a moment where I was irritated by clunkiness or contrivance. Absolutely 5* for such exceptional writing. I thought the best part was the Easter 1938 gathering which reminded me of Elizabeth Jane Howard and the Cazalet chronicles. I think Howard is outstanding in this genre, but Megan Hunter’s writing is better. I haven’t read her earlier books and on the basis of this read will be looking these out.

A luminous masterpiece destined for the Booker shortlist

Some novels are read, others are experienced, but Days of Light by Megan Hunter is a rare work that feels as if it has been dreamt. Like sunlight fracturing through glass, its prose illuminates even the darkest corners of life, leaving a kaleidoscope of wonder in its wake. This is a shimmering meditation on existence, as ephemeral and beautiful as the light that threads its pages.

Hunter’s narrative follows Ivy, an artist of life as much as canvas, across six transformative days spanning six decades. From an enchanted Easter Sunday in 1938 to the reflective quietude of her twilight years, Ivy’s life unfolds like the unfurling of petals, fragile yet eternal. The story pivots around a single moment: an unearthly light by a riverside, both a literal vision and a metaphor for the elusive truths Ivy spends her life chasing. What was it? God, love, art, memory—all of these and none. Hunter’s genius lies in leaving the question unanswered, trusting the reader to inhabit the uncertainty as Ivy does.

The writing is luminous, as if each word were dipped in morning dew. Hunter’s prose moves like a whispered prayer—fragmentary, elliptical, but resonant with profound clarity. Her sentences seem to glow from within, suffused with a quiet reverence for life’s fleeting beauty. This is language as light, capturing not just the seen but the felt, the heard, the intuited. Reading it feels less like consuming a story and more like stepping into a cathedral of words, where each line is a stained-glass window, casting colour and shadow across the soul. A prayer.

Themes of love, God, and art are woven through the novel with an effortless grace. Yet it is motherhood that stands as the novel’s central motif, presented not as an abstract ideal but as a visceral, grounding force. Ivy’s relationships—with her children, her mother, and herself—are etched with a clarity that cuts to the bone. The novel speaks to the generative power of women’s lives, their ability to transform grief into light, love into legacy.

Hunter’s choice to structure the novel around six pivotal days is a masterstroke, distilling a life into its most resonant chords. Each chapter is like a single brushstroke in a vast painting, creating a portrait of a woman defined not by grand gestures but by quiet revolutions of the heart. The narrative’s fragmentary nature mirrors memory itself, and as Ivy revisits her past, the reader is invited to do the same, tracing the shape of their own moments of light.

And then there is the light itself—Hunter’s recurring motif, a presence that transcends understanding. It is not merely a plot device but a character in its own right, as ineffable and essential as breath. It is a stand-in for everything we cannot name but feel: the divine, the sublime, the enduring mystery of why we are here. Through Ivy’s journey, Hunter reminds us that life’s greatest truths are not meant to be grasped but held lightly, like sunlight caught in cupped hands.

Days of Light is a novel that leaves you awed and hushed, as if you’ve stepped out of a gallery where the paintings seemed to breathe. It’s a book to return to, to linger over, to carry with you like a talisman. Hunter has crafted a radiant masterpiece, a hymn to life’s fleeting beauty and enduring mystery. Surely, this is the work of an author at the height of her powers—a Booker-worthy triumph, a true symphony of light.

My thanks to Picador for an ARC via NetGalley