- ASIN: B0FL5HGCR1
- Publisher: Sprigleaf
- Publication date: 6 Sept. 2025
- Language: English
- Print length: 409 pages
- Book 1 of 3: Falling Series
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Historical Romance eBooks
The BookViral Review:
There is something quietly disarming about Falling UP. From its opening chapters, Lucinda Brant makes it clear this is not a Georgian romance driven by spectacle or melodrama, but one shaped by observation, kindness, and emotional patience. It reads like a story told by someone who understands that the most transformative moments in life often happen offstage, in small acts of care that go unnoticed by the world at large.
At its heart is Lisa Crisp, a young woman of no fortune, yet possessed of a steadiness that makes her instantly compelling. Lisa is not written as a heroine who dazzles rooms or overturns society by force of will. Instead, Brant gives us someone quietly capable — intelligent, observant, and guided by an instinctive moral compass. Her work at Warner’s Dispensary, and her willingness to help Becky Bannister when a minor errand threatens serious consequences, establish her character long before romance enters the picture. She feels real in a way that is increasingly rare: competent without being idealised, kind without being naïve.
The novel’s romantic counterpart, Henri-Antoine Hesham, is introduced not as a conquering hero but as a man burdened by an illness he must conceal at all costs. Brant’s portrayal of epilepsy — referred to in period terms as the “falling sickness” — is handled with remarkable care. Rather than using it for shock or tragedy, she explores what it means to live under constant vigilance, to fear exposure, and to measure one’s worth against society’s unforgiving standards. Henri-Antoine’s vulnerability is not a weakness to be overcome, but an intrinsic part of who he is, and the novel is stronger for that choice.
What makes Falling UP especially effective is how the relationship between Lisa and Henri-Antoine develops. There is no rush, no artificial misunderstanding stretched for drama. Instead, their connection grows through moments of trust, quiet recognition, and shared humanity — first witnessed in crisis and later sustained through patience and restraint. The presence of Jack Cavendish, Henri-Antoine’s closest friend, quietly reinforces this dynamic, offering loyalty and concern without ever overshadowing the central relationship.
Brant’s prose suits the story she is telling. It carries the rhythm and vocabulary of the Georgian period without becoming heavy or inaccessible. The dialogue feels natural within its setting, and the London of the novel — its dispensaries, townhouses, and smoke-filled rooms — is vividly drawn without excessive ornamentation. Historical detail is present, but it never distracts from character, which is always where Brant’s attention remains fixed.
Although marketed as a young adult retelling of Satyr’s Son, Falling UP does not feel limited by that classification. Its themes — dignity, illness, social constraint, and the quiet courage required to care — will resonate just as strongly with adult readers, particularly those who appreciate historical romance with emotional intelligence and depth. Readers who value character-led storytelling over formula will find much to admire here.
Ultimately, Falling UP is a gentle but assured novel. It trusts its readers to notice small moments, to sit with discomfort, and to recognise love not as rescue, but as understanding. It is a story that lingers — not because it demands attention, but because it earns it.
Falling UP will particularly appeal to readers who enjoy character-driven historical romance where emotional intelligence matters more than spectacle. Fans of Georgette Heyer’s quieter, more introspective novels, readers who appreciate the moral seriousness of Elizabeth Goudge, or those drawn to the compassion and restraint found in Joanna Davidson Politano’s historical fiction will find this story especially satisfying. It will also resonate with readers who value sensitive portrayals of illness, care, and dignity within romantic narratives, rather than dramatic or formulaic plots.
It is unreservedly recommended!
