Product Description

A rags-to-riches story with a deeply original spin, NOT ALL TARTS ARE APPLE is narrated by seven-year-old Rosie who grows up in a cafe in 1950s Soho, watched over by her eagle-eyed Auntie Maggie and Uncle Bert, and visited on occasions by her mother, the mysterious, and often drunk, Perfumed Lady. But it soon transpires that the Perfumed Lady's family - landed gentry who hail from a country estate near Bath - are desperate to get their hands on Rosie, and will stop at nothing - even kidnap - to acquire her. Peopled with a wonderful cast of eccentric subsidiary characters - Great Aunt Dodie, Madame Zelda and Paulette, Sharky, the Campini Family who run an Italian delicatessan in Old Compton Street, and Maltese Joe - all of whom live in a Soho so atmospherically evoked that you can smell and taste it, this is a novel made to be published by Transworld.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #1787187 in Books
• Published on: 2002-04-01
• Original language: English
• Binding: Hardcover
• 329 pages

Gilda O'Neill, author of My East End
'A wonderfully warm debut novel told with humour, charm and compassion, evoking the close-knit, post-war community of an often dangerous 1950s Soho'

From the Publisher
Hugely appealing London saga, set in the Soho of the 1950s.

From the Back Cover
NOT ALL TARTS ARE APPLE . . .

at least, this is what seven-year-old Rosie finds out at school one morning. 'You haven't got no proper mum and dad. Your mum's a tart,' Rosie's friend Kathy Moon taunts her. And with this, Rosie's safe world - her home above the cafe in Old Compton Street where she is watched over by her devoted uncle Bert and auntie Maggie - is overturned.

A café in post-war Soho is a strange place to bring up a child. Rosie is surrounded by a motley group of grown-ups - Mamma Campanini at the deli, Madame Zelda (Clairvoyant to the Stars), Sharkey Finn (a clever lawyer but bent as a two-bob watch) and Paulette (who teaches French in an upstairs room). From time to time the mysterious Perfumed Lady makes an appearance. Usually the worse for drink, she laughs a lot and wears clothes like a princess. She brings Rosie presents - silver shoes, glittery jewellery and satin ribbons. Rosie thinks she is her fairy godmother. But she is, of course, Rosie's real mum ... and one day she,or her relatives might want to reclaim her.

Not All Tarts Are Apple is a wonderfully warm-hearted first novel with a cast of eccentric characters who step out of the pages to greet you, a 1950s Soho so real you can smell and touch it, and a seven-year-old heroine you will want to take home.

Customer Reviews

not all tarts are apple
one of the most enjoyable books I have read in a long time, you feel that you are there with Rosie and the people that surround her. I couldn't put it down and neither will you if you buy it, an excellant read.

I kept expecting Barbara Windsor to pop up in Bert and Maggies cafe!
Rosie was an intelligent little seven year old and seeing the world through her eyes was clever because we, as adults, can see more into things than she can, which made her observations amusing.

I felt I was living in 1950's Soho whilst reading this and what a warm and friendly place it appeared to be. Yes, the people in her world were wide boys, rough diamonds and even prostitutes but the characters were totally believable and you felt absolutely safe with them. The sense of community was the overall theme and how they always cared for their own, especially Rosie. I almost wanted to boo the baddies when they made their appearance.

A warm and amusing story but a book that needs to be read in large chunks and not a page or two before bed.

A really good read
My sister gave me this book to read and I was sceptical until I'd read the first few pages. One minute your crying the next you're laughing your socks off. The whole book has a quality seldom found these days. Rosie and her adopted "Relatives" are wonderful people, and I want to be like her real Great Aunt Dodie one day (if only I was wealthy enough). It's worth reading just to meet the donkeys!