In a story so often framed around scandal, it would be easy to overlook the quiet figure standing behind it. Lazarus Blanks does not command headlines. He does not dominate court transcripts. He does not appear in newspaper columns dripping with judgement. Yet, without him, Jane Blanks and the Weight of Her Name would be a very different book. Lazarus is the moral centre of the novel. He is not flawless. He is not sentimental. He is not progressive in the modern sense, but he

Jane Blanks is not a heroine in the conventional sense. She does not triumph. She does not escape. She is not rewarded for honesty. She endures. Jane is introduced to us as a young woman in a small Essex village, shaped by the men around her — a loving, principled father; hardworking brothers; a community that values respectability above compassion. Her early understanding of male behavior is limited to what she has seen at home, which makes her particularly vulnerable to men

Bill Tisdall is restless. He cannot stay still long enough to belong comfortably anywhere. Where others endure, adapt, or compromise, Bill keeps moving and travelling. The sea suits him because it offers him distance, danger, and the illusion of freedom. He becomes a merchant seaman, learning hard work the uncompromising way — long hours, physical strain, discipline, and silence. Bill is stubborn, tough, and proud.

Ella Tisdall is a dreamer. In a family shaped by practicality, endurance, and restraint, Ella longs for something softer and more beautiful. She believes deeply in romantic love, in emotional connection, and in the idea that happiness can be found through devotion to another person. Where others calculate and endure, Ella hopes. Her first marriage is to Walter Steele. It is brief — devastatingly so. Walter dies shortly after their marriage

Henry Adolphus Tisdall — known to everyone as Harry — is the family member who cannot cope. Like his brother, Percy, Harry works as a barman, spending his days and nights surrounded by drink, noise, and other people’s relief. Unlike Percy, the job doesn't suit him. He becomes trapped living and working behind an dreadfully notorious bar in East London, that is run by two cruel employers. The same environment that provides his livelihood also feeds his undoing. Harry drinks.

Lillian Tisdall has no patience for nonsense. She is sharp-tongued, clear-sighted, and emotionally unsentimental. Where others in the family agonize, hesitate, or collapse inward, Lillian assesses, decides, and acts. She does not romanticize suffering, and she does not admire chaos. If something needs doing, she does it — properly. Lillian and Jack inherit a large seaside house, and unlike others who might treat it as a retreat or a sentimental relic, she immediately recogniz

Fred Tisdall is a man who loves precision. Long before the war, he is drawn to clocks and watches — to gears, springs, faces marked by numbers that promise order and reliability. Time, to Fred, is something that can be measured, repaired, and understood. He takes comfort in mechanisms that behave as expected, that can be coaxed back into working with patience and care. This love of precision shapes his character. Fred is steady, thoughtful, and quietly absorbed by detail.

Frank Tisdall is the one who slips away first. In a family marked by strong personalities, public roles, and visible struggle, Frank is quiet, inward, and easily overlooked as a child. He does not compete for attention. He does not argue his case. He simply observes, absorbs, draws and sketches, keeping his thoughts to himself. Frank grows up surrounded by noise — business, performance, politics, illness, war — yet he remains separate from it all. He is not indifferent, but

Long before the war, before India, before responsibility hardens him, Bert is captivated by trains and railways — the power of engines, the precision of timetables, the promise of movement and connection. Railways represent order, progress, and purpose in a world that often feels unpredictable. They are the one thing that consistently excites him. When the First World War comes, Bert joins the army and is sent to India, far from London and far from the rhythms of family life.

Percy Tisdall is remembered first for his beauty. He is strikingly handsome — finely featured, and quietly charismatic in a way that draws attention without effort. People notice Percy. Customers remember him. Yet alongside this physical beauty runs a constant fragility. From early adulthood, his health is delicate, his strength unreliable, his energy easily depleted. There is always a sense that he must be careful, that his body cannot be pushed in the way others’ can.