The women, in contrast to the men, are portrayed with unusual and refreshing warmth and subtlety. When Elsie Warren, whose brother Philip works as an unpaid apprentice to a great potter, finds herself pregnant, the women – even those who might, in another novel, be gently mocked stereotypes (the spinster bluestocking, the serial philanderer's long-suffering wife) – rally round with kindness and care to help.
Almost all the girls are conflicted about the life that awaits them once they are married, and seek some kind of compromise between marriage and thinking. The novel is a great counterbalance to the imagined schisms between women today. Byatt rejects the rivalries, the jealousies, the supposed feminine spite, all the while making sure that the women's relationships – the help, the trust, the affection – exist well outside the twee sphere of sentimental sisterhood. No helpless fairy-tale princesses here.
The structure of the novel, though, does resemble a complex fairy tale, with many of the characters pairing up, predictably, unexpectedly, farcically, movingly, often more than once, in the style of A Midsummer Night's Dream (another recurring theme and inspiration). The enchanted story – at least the ones the adults believe in; the children have understood the reality for years – comes to an abrupt end with the First World War.
At this point, the novel picks up rather too much speed in an attempt to encompass the whole war; I could happily have read about Dorothy's medical studies or Hedda's imprisonment under the Cat and Mouse Act for several more volumes. The war brings tragedy to many, including the Wellwood family, but also brings about dramatic social changes that leave many of the characters – the survivors – with some tender green shoots of postwar happy-ish ever after.
Byatt need not share the concerns of her sister, novelist Margaret Drabble, who this week announced her decision to stop writing for fear of repeating herself. After more than 40 years of writing, Byatt can still breathe magical life into historical fiction, giving her abiding interests new relevance with each work. Beguiling me out of my prejudices, The Children's Book turned out to be an intelligent, erudite and charming companion. I should have expected no less.
J.C. Sutcliffe, a writer, editor and translator, is planning a history of utopian communities.
