A Quilting of Scars: Review by bookandbliss

It’s 1909 and Larkin Beattie is a bachelor in his fifties, still living on the farm that he grew up on. We can tell that he is a gentle soul who loved his mother and father dearly, and is sad that they are no longer with him.

When someone mentions the old Skinner place, Larkin is sent into reverie and goes home to look at old scrapbooks and newspaper articles. He takes us back to 1871, and from there, we learn about what happened to his neighbours, whose son Paul, was a close friend of Larkin.

I enjoyed reading this book, as it slowly unravels what happened to Larkin and his neighbours in the past, how Larkin had put it all away until deciding to reminisce about it again. The novel also shows us what farm life in Canada in the late 1800s to early 1900s was like, from horse breeding, sheep shearing, cattle birthing and dehorning, and putting up church bells.

From the book blurb: “A Quilting of Scars brings to life a story of forbidden love, abuse and murder. Pulsing with repressed sexuality and guilt, Larkin Beattie reveals the many secrets he has kept hidden throughout his lonely life.”

I had so many good five star reads at the end of 2025, and this was one of them. Recommend if you like Canadian historical fiction!

Do you like seeing the title of a book in the text? I love it! Whenever it happens, it’s like an aha moment for me.

Thank you to @river_street_writes and @lucyemblack for the gifted review copy.

📖 “It was his first breeding stallion. Larkin named him Belvedere, after one of King Arthur’s knights. Ever since then, every one of his horses had been named after someone or something that Larkin found in the encyclopedia set.”

📖 “He found it remarkable how one simply got busy with farming, and how that led to another thing like his stallions. And the days passed and the seasons changed, and then one suddenly realized that one had become thirty, and then forty, and then fifty.”

📖 ”It’s a funny thing about funerals, thought Larkin. Everyone comes round and brings food and tells you how sad they are…But death makes folks twitchy. And no one likes to talk about the actual dying part. It’s as if they’re afraid it might hasten their own departing.”