It's been many years since Assassin's Apprentice came out in 1995. Where was I in 1995? Finishing high school - grade 10 - and slowly starting to rea...moreIt's been many years since Assassin's Apprentice came out in 1995. Where was I in 1995? Finishing high school - grade 10 - and slowly starting to realise that Fantasy was the genre I loved. I read Assassin's Apprentice a year or two later, in college, and wanted so badly to love it. It had one of the new breed of Fantasy covers (click the link above to see it), and the genre, in the late 90s, was experiencing a true revival: fresh talent, new energy, original ideas and some beautiful covers by Voyager here in Australia (so different from those commonly associated with Fantasy thanks to publishers like Tor in the U.S. with their ugly, chunky fonts and often awkward-looking artwork).
But I digress. I wanted to love the first book set in the world of the Farseers - Hobb's first novel, if I remember correctly - but I couldn't. It wasn't long, but it was slow and uninteresting to me at the time; I couldn't get into it. I did give Hobb another go a few years later, when I was at uni and read The Liveship Traders. The first book took me a long time to get through, but it picked up at the end and the last two books were quite exciting. So it was with a mixture of excitement and trepidation that I received her newest, Fool's Assassin, in the mail. Not only was I leery of being able to enjoy Hobb's slower, more ponderous style (for such as it was from memory), but this is the start of a third trilogy set in the same world as her very first book, and the fact that I hadn't read the intervening books was a big looming ignorance which I feared would preclude any enjoyment at all.
Not so, on the last count at least.
The story reintroduces readers to FitzChivalry Farseer, bastard son of King Shrewd's oldest son, Chivalry, who abdicated the throne in favour of his younger brother, Verity. Fitz, son of a Mountain Kingdom woman, is the protagonist and hero of the previous trilogies, which see him being brought to Buckkeep Castle and trained as a spy and assassin - for the Farseer kings, if a bastard isn't useful to the throne, he's a threat. It is as a boy at the castle that Fitz first meets the Fool, a blonde boy in a land of dark-haired people who later, in the Tawny Man trilogy, figures prominently as a White Prophet, Fitz his Catalyst.
But Fitz has retired, as much as he's allowed to, and now lives incognito at Withywoods with his wife, Molly, and some of her children from her first marriage (to Burrich). Known as Holder Tom Badgerlock, Fitz is enjoying his quiet life, his wife, and being away from court politics. But on the night of Winterfest, three strangers appear at the manor house, a pale messenger he never gets to meet vanishes, and there's blood in his study - both the ground floor study where the messenger was waiting for him and his own, private study where Fitz does his real work. As angry as he is at the violation and the mystery, the trail soon goes cold, years pass and he forgets all about it. Until another pale messenger arrives, barely alive, with a message from the Fool that doesn't make sense, for all that its importance is clear. And just like that, Fitz is launched back into the world of intrigue, danger, adventure and death.
Fool's Assassin begins slowly, almost too slowly. It took me a while to get through the first few chapters, which seemed far too preoccupied in the minute details of Withywoods and Winterfest. Yet it does set the tone and pace for the novel to come, as well as ease you back into this world. And even though I can barely remember anything from Assassin's Apprentice, Hobb's gentle handling of exposition (including background information) meant that I never got lost. I'm not sure if readers who are more familiar with the earlier trilogies would appreciate the recapping and reminiscing as much as I did; it's hard to say. But all the details of who died, who was tortured, what happened to so-and-so from the previous books, didn't feel like spoilers to me; such details have actually motivated me to read the previous trilogies and catch up. In such a condensed form, the excitement and thrill of previous plots is forefront.
Fitz is technically an old man in this book: at the start he is forty-seven, and Molly, at fifty, is three years older. Twelve or thirteen years go by during the course of this book, but because of the intense Skill healing Fitz endured as a younger man, his body keeps healing and he looks younger than his true years. He'll need that boost of youth and vigour, as the end of this first volume is merely the beginning of a very personal adventure for Fitz. I would love very much to give some details, especially as the messenger plot-line I shared in the summary above is just one sliver of what happens in this, but I really don't want to spoil it for anyone. What I will say is that I loved Bee, she's a truly engaging heroine and fascinating too. It's interesting that Fitz doesn't realise a few things about her, especially considering I figured it out and I haven't even read the other books! Because of Bee, the slower pace and fine details of daily life became welcome, soothing almost, and intrinsic to the development of characters and plot. Sure it could have been slimmed down, but I wouldn't change anything: for all the pace, I found it exciting, gripping and immensely enjoyable.
It's also quite heartbreaking. There were several places in the story that set me crying, which I love: I love being that involved, that invested in the characters, that what happens to them affects me enough that I cry. Sure, I cry easily these days, but you still need that connection. One thing's for sure, Hobbs characters are alive, they're real, and the deceptive simplicity of the writing and plot draws you in in an organic, homely way. It fits well. It also makes you realise, in terms of the overall plot of the trilogy - which doesn't become clear until the very end of book 1 - how necessary it is to spend such a long time on establishing the characters, especially Bee. (And as a warning: this book ends on a cliffhanger.)
As for the world itself, Hobb builds on her previous work and as far as I can tell, nothing new has been added here. It's well established, but reminded me of one of the reasons why I struggled with the first book as a teenager: it's not the most interesting world. Following on the well-trodden path of modelling a fantasy world on medieval Europe, perhaps the most striking difference is the lack of religion. There's no religion in this world at all, at least not in the Six Duchies. There's magic and mystery, the supernatural, the long-gone Elderlings and newly-arisen dragons, but no religion. It's a surprising omission, once you note it, only because in our own world, religion is always there, even if you don't follow one or have personal beliefs. It still frames your world, shapes your experiences and your perspective. Without religion, the characters here need some kind of creed to follow, some shared understanding of how the world works and their place in it. Loyalty comes to mind, and the Farseer kings. They're not worshipped, but the lengths characters like Chade, Fitz's mentor, go to to protect the throne are almost worshipper-like.
Fool's Assassin is a successful re-entry into Fitz's world, I would say, and provides the pivotal beginnings to a new high-stakes plot. Even without having read the previous trilogies, I would say that this plot is the most personal for Fitz, I just can't say why without spoiling things. Am I eagerly awaiting the second book already? Absolutely! The best thing to do in the meantime, is go back to the beginning and read the Farseer Trilogy and the Tawny Man trilogy (I would love to read the Soldier Son trilogy too, while I'm at it). Hobb has reinvigorated my interest in this world, which I didn't think would happen, but considering how slow the pacing is here, how uneventful so much of this long book seems to be, that says a lot about her skill in developing characters, anticipation and momentum.
My thanks to the publisher for a copy of this book. (less)
The question of whether you read Someone Else's Love Story as a story about faith and destiny, or coincidence and growing up, is a redundant one: it i...moreThe question of whether you read Someone Else's Love Story as a story about faith and destiny, or coincidence and growing up, is a redundant one: it is not the answer that matters, but the fact that there is a question at all. For Shandi Pierce, she has spent the last four years in denial, so fiercely omitting the truth of the night she got pregnant that she's convinced herself she had a virgin birth. The illusion comes crashing down on the day she moves from her mother's mountain home to Atlanta, where her father lives, to continue her degree closer to campus. En route with her best friend, Walcott, and her three year old son, Natty, they pull over at a little petrol station because Natty is car sick. Going inside to get a drink, Shandi spies a handsome older man, who she pins as being divorced. Her parents divorced when she was very young due to arguments about how to raise their daughter (her mother is Catholic, her father is Jewish), and Shandi has had a few boyfriends since Natty was born who are all much older men.
The suspected divorcee is William Ashe, and he isn't divorced. He is in mourning, though, so when a drug-addled man enters the Circle K with an old gun and proceeds to rob the place, William sees it as destiny. Here is a way to end it all. Shandi reads William's reaction differently: she sees the way he moves between the gunman and her son, and thinks he is deeply protective - the quality all women want in their male partners when children are involved. She's sexually attracted to him, and being in a hostage situation, adrenalin pumping, only seems to heighten it. When William says "Destiny," she thinks he means them. She falls in love.
But William is deep in his own love story, the love he has - or had - for his wife, Bridget, and their two year old daughter, Twyla, who died in a tragic car accident exactly one year to the day of the robbery. William is autistic, though as his best friend Paula points out, he "learned how to pass." A genetic scientist, he's built like a football player and makes origami animals to keep his fingers busy while he thinks. When Shandi turns up at the hospital after the robbery, Natty in tow, she asks for his help in finding the boy's real father. Things changed for both of them that day at the Circle K; for Shandi, she killed a miracle. Now she has to find the truth, and hopes to find love along the way.
Someone Else's Love Story is a snappy, intelligent, engaging read, fast-paced enough to swing you along with it as it explores the characters' neuroses and conflicted states of being. For "conflicted" they are, and if it weren't for Shandi's slightly sarcastic, slightly ironic observations, it would slip into melodrama. The other thing that saves it from self-indulgence (that quality I can't stand) is Jackson's ability to see and explore the ways in which faith works for us as individuals, without ever coming across as having picked a side. William is, frankly, incapable of believing in God or anything else, and so the character presents a balance in that way. Shandi is seemingly neutral, or undecided, while Bridget was in training to be a nun. It's the push-and-pull between faith and everything (and everyone) else that matters, the way the characters work their way to an understanding that allows them to love and be loved. It's not just the concept of "religious faith" that the book deals with: more prominently, it explores the idea of faith in a non-religious context, too. Faith as in trust and understanding.
One of the things I liked about this book was its blend of cliché and originality. There are the characters: slightly-unlikeable yet oddly-likeable heroine, Shandi, caustic Paula and too-good-to-be-true Bridget, and distant, hard-to-reach but honourable William, plus gangly bean-pole Walcott who is so clearly in love with Shandi before either of them realise it (not to mention he's already pretty much Natty's father), and Shandi's Hollywood-esque rich dad and evil stepmother, Bethany. William does, of course, bring to mind Don Tillman from Graeme Simsion's highly entertaining 2013 novel, The Rosie Project; Don has Asperger's (though doesn't believe he does) and is a geneticist who helps a younger, attractive woman (Rosie) find her father via DNA sampling. In Rosie, there is romance between the two; in Love Story, there is Shandi's desperate attempts at romance that largely go unnoticed.
This isn't a story of new love, but of new beginnings to old stories. Often, they are other people's love stories, and Shandi has stumbled into them rather blindly. This includes her own parents and the truth of their unhappy marriage, which provides such an important lesson for their daughter. At its hearts, it's a story about being a parent, and the love parents have for their children - and what they sacrifice, or destroy, when love becomes a weapon. Jackson strikes true on many fronts, and what held me back from loving it is purely a subjective, personality thing. That magical relationship between reader and writer via the prose style, which no one can control. That magic relationship wasn't quite there for me with this book, though it's a successful story in so many ways. It also didn't help that I find the cover off-putting: too pinky-purple, too ugly-pretty with its loud, obvious daisy, too trite and commercial. I don't even like to look at it, but I hope it doesn't put anyone else off from reading this.
My thanks to the publisher for a copy of this book via TLC Book Tours.(less)
There is a constant stream of novels written about the Jewish experience during World War II - a time that continues to both enthral and terrify us. I...moreThere is a constant stream of novels written about the Jewish experience during World War II - a time that continues to both enthral and terrify us. It is of immense importance to keep the past alive through personal, human stories, in the hopes that we will be better prepared, better able to spot such atrocities today and in the future. Sadly we've seen that this is a nice theory that doesn't play out; however it's important to keep trying.
One area of WWII that is less explored but equally important are stories from the non-Jewish perspective, stories about Nazi soldiers or ordinary German civilians, stories about others who also experienced the war but in different ways. The Paris Architect adds to this meagre slice of historical fiction pie with its story of a French gentile and architect, Lucien Bernard, who has no particular feelings either way about the Jews - though when pressed, he's no "Jew-lover" - but seeks to get by under German occupation.
In a strained and childless marriage to Celeste, and a social-climber mistress, Adele, on the side, Lucien's big ambition in life is to have one of his designs built in Paris for all to see. The occupation has made much of life and work in the city stall, but there are also surprising opportunities as well. The Germans are building infrastructure - factories to make the weapons used against the Allies - on French soil, working with well-established French businessmen and unpaid forced labour to get their projects built fast. Lucien is approached by one such businessman, an old man called Manet, who has a frightening proposal. Flattering Lucien's skills and vanity and appealing to a sense of moral rightness that Lucien doesn't feel he possesses, Manet dangles the promise of hiring Lucien to build a big munitions factory if he will also design an ingenious hiding place for a wealthy Jew being hunted by the Gestapo.
It isn't a sense of empathy for the Jews that leads Lucien to take on the task, one that could see him tortured and killed. It's the challenge, the vanity, of besting others that leads Lucien to agree to Manet's terms despite his incredible fear. Lucien isn't interested in dying for a cause. He wants to live, survive the war, and prosper too. Architecture is more important to him than anything else in his life.
But as Manet continues to ask Lucien to design more hiding places for terrified Jews, and Lucien even meets one of the men he's helping, something in him begins to change. The Jews become human beings, and the matter of hiding them, helping them survive and escape, becomes deeply personal. But as the Gestapo cotton on to the hiding places and begin torturing builders and craftsmen for information, the net starts to tighten around Lucien and Manet. How much longer before connections are made, and their time is up?
The Paris Architect is a wonderful story, a fresh take on the story of German occupation in France, the plight of Jews and life for non-Jews under the occupation. Lucien is one of those flawed characters who is undeniably, realistically human - the kind of person you can relate to because his concerns, his fears, his sense of morality are, lets be honest, the norm. Whether it's World War II or today, most of us would be just like Lucien, regardless of how much we'd like to think we'd do better, be better. Human nature trumps in survival cases. If we already ignore people who are suffering in times of peace, why would we think we'd be any better in times of war and terror?
Yet Lucien also shows that you can make choices and change. You can decide what you want to stand for, what's worth fighting for - and dying for. The tension in this novel is palpable, aided by gruesome scenes of torture by the Gestapo on French civilians. From a craftsmanship angle, a more subtle technique ("less is more") would have been just as affective, if not more so. The problem with Belfoure's scenes of torture is that it's hard to write such scenes, especially in a readable novel like this (as opposed to a more "literary" style, as much as I hate using that term), without sliding into cheese. I'm not sure that Belfoure was quite successful in getting into the minds of Gestapo officers - can't really fault him for that - but in the absence of true insight or understanding, the tension and genuine fear can be created in other, more convincing ways. The Gestapo officers began to sound like clichéd film villains in silly action movies - a Stallone cheesefest from the 80s, that kind of thing.
Belfoure was clearly more comfortable with the civilian characters, and developed Lucien into a believable, sympathetic character even when he's not all that likeable. The fact that he matures and becomes, for want of a less corny expression, a "better person", absolves him of his earlier vanity and ego. Not to mention that he's quite honest with himself about his vanity and ego.
There's a lot to learn from The Paris Architect - about daily life under occupation, about architecture and, especially, about human nature. Not always predictable, the tension and drama propels the story forwards to a fitting climax. At its heart, The Paris Architect is about the small deeds of courage and conscience that people are capable of in times of oppression and fear. While the self-policing conducted by French citizens on each other - spying on their neighbours, reporting people to the police to protect themselves - is unflattering, it serves to make those smaller, sometimes barely visible deeds all the more important. If I can bastardise a quote from Othello for a moment here, I would say that people like Lucien and Bette lived "not wisely, but too well." The point being, they lived, and they lived a life they could be proud of by making choices that weren't wise in the circumstances, but were worth it.
My thanks to the publisher for a copy of this book. (less)
'I believe we can make a solid argument that African-American boys ought to be deemed legally endangered. Their very lives are threatened with extinct...more'I believe we can make a solid argument that African-American boys ought to be deemed legally endangered. Their very lives are threatened with extinction, or at least any meaningful existence, and thereby ought to be afforded certain protections based on their classification as such.'
Roger Whitford, an attorney for the Centre for the Protection of Human Rights, has a plan to put a stop to the prejudiced treatment of black men in the United States, men - and boys - who make up a third of prison inmates. When Janae Williams' fifteen-year-old son Malik is arrested for the murder of his friend Troy - the twenty-ninth murder in Philadelphia in the twenty days since the start of the year - Roger decides to take on the case, not just to free Malik, but to launch his big campaign to get black males in America extra support and protection.
Janae is a classic statistic: pregnant as a teen, she put her education on hold to have the baby and raise it on her own. Now she works as a cashier in a hospital cafeteria, striving to make ends meet and give Malik a chance to make something of his life. But now, he's not just been accused of murder, the prosecution wants to try him as an adult - the standard response to murder cases. Keeping him in the juvenile court is just the first step in Roger's plan, but first he needs to get Janae on side - not an easy task when you're comparing her son to an animal.
Roger plans to use the Endangered Animals Act and have it extended to include African-American males, but it's a hard pill to swallow for the community and Janae in particular. Even more so for young, ambitious Calvin Moore, a hotshot lawyer at a big firm with grand plans who studied his way out of the community Janae is stuck in. Roger wants Calvin on the case, but it's a tough sell. Not until Calvin stops seeing his origins as something to turn his back on and instead as something he should try and use his skills and position to help, do the pieces start to fall into place.
But will Roger sacrifice Malik for the sake of the bigger picture? Can Janae truly trust an old white man to keep her son out of jail?
Cush's debut novel has a clear aim and agenda, and tackles it well. With a tight focus, a neatly delivered storyline and believable characters, she brings the human angle to a serious issue of race, discrimination, prejudice and poverty. It's a fairly short book that makes the wise decision to keep the spotlight on Janae and her son, rather than a long, drawn-out legal and political battlefield that could end who knows where. As much as you can't help but want to follow through and see where Roger's plan ends up, it would detract from the story without adding anything - especially considering that the situation Malik finds himself in is pretty much unchanged today. The point, I would think, is to get people thinking in a different way about the issues, to open a debate (or contribute to an already-existing one), not to launch into an actual, fictional campaign.
While the writing does, at times, carry the whiff of a beginner novelist - especially in some of the descriptions and language - there's no denying that Endangered has the necessary ingredients for a great story, is highly readable and shows the author's great potential. At times a bit simplistic, I nevertheless appreciated the human angle to the story. If the characters seemed a bit stereotypical, part of that would be because there's some truth in stereotypes, and part of it would be because the author hasn't yet reached her full range and stereotypes are unavoidable. Perhaps more time could have been spent on fleshing the main characters out, to make them feel and sound less like stock characters, but the writing was nicely, smoothly consistent throughout and the simple touch was actually refreshing.
Cush stretches her legal chops in the legal-drama side of the story; an attorney for many years, she has a focus on domestic abuse, urban violence, and inner-city education. The descriptions and dialogue between the lawyers and the judge, for instance, were accessible to a layman like me while still sounding authentic and believable.
Throughout the story, I couldn't help but feel a chill at the thought of children - children - being tried as adults and sent to adult prison. This is, according to the story, a law in Pennsylvania, and is just one of several laws that I, as a non-American, hear about and shudder at. As Endangered shows, it casts the wrong emphasis on crime, and neglects - and downright ignores - the issues behind crime. I'm naturally leery whenever I hear the words "zero tolerance" because it's so black-and-white and encourages black-and-white thinking, prejudice and a "hard-ass" attitude based on the idea that everyone's equal and there are no excuses. There aren't excuses, but there are reasons, and if you don't stop and consider those reasons and what's really going on - if you don't get at the crux of the matter - then you're never going to really, truly stop it from happening. Because clearly the threat of jail time doesn't do much at all, and as this novel pointed out, prisons create hardened criminals out of people who made mistakes or did something dumb, for various reasons. It's a big, complex mess of issues that throws open the debate of nature versus nurture - whether you're a criminal, or whether your environment and various social factors contributed to you going down a particular path that, if the factors had been different, you might not have gone down.
Endangered doesn't try to please those "hard-asses": it clearly posits the understanding that these boys slip into crime because of poverty, peer pressure and other social factors. The lack of good male role models is also a contributing factor - not just in black American communities but everywhere - but again, Cush manages to blend the two sides: that you do have a say in how your life turns out, and you can change it; and that the world you come from does mean that we don't all start out equal.
An enlightening and thought-provoking novel, Endangered blends readable entertainment with prevalent social issues to position Jean Love Cush as a writer to watch.
My thanks to the publisher for a copy of this book via TLC Book Tours. (less)
It is 1966 and Melissa Singer is only eleven years old when her mother leaves and never comes back. For Melissa, there was no warning, no clue that th...moreIt is 1966 and Melissa Singer is only eleven years old when her mother leaves and never comes back. For Melissa, there was no warning, no clue that there was anything wrong. Her father, a bee keeper and general handyman, is non-committal - first he tells his daughter that her mother has gone to another war rally and won't be back for a few days, but after a while he simply says nothing. Instead he takes Lissy out of school for the last couple of weeks of the school year so he can take her with him on his annual rounds, distributing his bees at three different privately-owned orchards.
There is Earl Caulkins and his apple trees; an aloof and mildly eccentric author, Chance Curtis; and irascible farmer Les van den Hoven whose busy, loud and cheerful wife, Opal, is everything Lissy's mother is not. Opal takes Lissy under her wing for the week they stay at the farm, introducing her to painted nails and gossip. It doesn't quite make up for her mother's absence, but it helps. Later, over the summer holidays, she goes again with her dad and the bees, this time to wild blueberry crops and other out-of-the-way places.
It isn't until she starts a new school year at her small town's middle school that she realises something is definitely off. The mothers of girls she goes to school with are avoiding her as if she has something contagious. Her best friend Katie doesn't want to walk with her to school anymore, and arranges for her brother to switch lockers so hers isn't beside Melissa's anymore. Kids whisper around her and then suddenly stop, ostracise her or treat her meanly in the hallway. And she has no idea why, because no one will tell her. Nothing touches on her idolatry view of her absent mother, whom, she thinks, went away because she's sick - cancer, Lissy thinks, after reading about it in the library.
Whether her mother was present in the house or far away and silent, she manages to deeply affect Lissy's life. As Melissa grows up, spending summers with her dad and the bees and her school days writing stories and poems, her mother takes on a larger-than-life, demigod-like aspect. Such is how she copes with her feelings of abandonment and rejection. Nothing and no one can replace her, so it's a shock when her father moves on with his life - and expects her to move with him.
Bee Summers is a fairly short coming-of-age novel told with childlike confusion and puzzlement by its protagonist, Melissa. Set somewhere in east United States (there are references to Boston), the late 60s and early 70s provide a vague backdrop of upheaval and public protest, while the fashions, decorating styles and cars give nice period details. In the early parts of the story, there is plenty of evidence that Lissy's mother isn't someone you or I would like all that much, but Melissa is a strongly sympathetic character who misses her mother deeply. It's clear to us that her mother has walked out for her own reasons, and that Melissa is too young to understand without being explicitly told. It's hard to agree with her father not to tell her the truth, and the idea that he's both protecting Lissy and preserving her idea of her mother falls apart later when it becomes clear he just didn't want to talk about it (he was, like many men of his time, a war veteran from the Korean war, and also like many men of his time, found it hard to open up about anything). Because no one tells her otherwise, naturally Melissa creates an image of her mother as this loving, wonderful woman.
Yet Melissa also grows up increasingly lonely and closed-off, and perhaps because she does come from what is essentially a "broken home" with no motherly support or guidance, she matures slowly. I found it hard to empathise with her over her father's decisions to remarry and move. Certainly, if nothing else, Bee Summers shows how much damage can ensue when people don't talk to each other openly and honestly. Misunderstandings and a lack of communication result in what was, to me, a truly tragic ending. What's interesting about Melissa as a carefully-constructed character is how realistically flawed she is, and how clearly you can detect her mother and father's genetic inheritance in her. Her personality is her own but she has inherited characteristics from her parents; if both parents are uncommunicative, and at least one is inherently selfish, it's not surprisingly that you see it in Melissa as well. She doesn't make great choices all the time. She does live in fear, later, that because she didn't have a mother for so long, she doesn't know how to be one herself. Dugan has achieved a careful and honest balance between Melissa's vulnerable flaws and tender fragility. It's hard to dislike Lissy because so much of her character is a result of her circumstances. That said, had her mother stayed around, she probably would have grown up much like her - since she listened to her so much - and might have ended up even less likeable. It's an interesting aspect to the novel, and makes this a story that you can't read aimlessly or passively.
Where the novel disappointed me somewhat was in the development of Lissy's voice - she narrates in first-person past tense, which is a strong choice (you all know by now how much I'm coming to detest the latest fad for using present tense). However, her voice is a child's voice, rather than an adult's voice reliving a child's perspective, and I found this a bit weird and confusing. Almost as if you're reading about someone who's development has stunted. It bleeds into the later parts of the story, too, so that Melissa always sounds desperately immature.
Secrets abound in this story about silence and selfishness. (How's that for a bit of alliteration?) For me, the stars of the story were the bees themselves - I have a deep love for these precious little creatures who are so instrumental to the survival of life on earth. I can't resist any story with "bees" in the title or on the cover, whether they figure as part of the story or not. While the bee summers of Melissa's youth fade into her childhood with the blush of nostalgia - as these things do - I was left bereft and saddened that the bees had left the story. I liked hearing about them, and wanted more. But they had served their purpose, plot-device-wise, and everything must change and move on. That's always a strong theme of coming-of-age novels, that things end and we must grow up and lose our innocence. The sense of that is strong in Bee Summers, and perhaps it's that quality of honest realism that makes it hard to tease out my response. The past of our childhood always has an element of pain, humiliation, gaucheness to it, that makes us shy away from it while at the same time missing it. I'm always impressed by writers who can capture something that ephemeral, that ambiguous, and Dugan has captured it so well I'm left feeling off-footed and mildly uncomfortable. Not an easy book to review but I do recommend it for those readers who like coming-of-age stories.
When Kelsea Raleigh turns nineteen, nine hardened soldiers turn up at the door to the isolated cottage where she's grown up under the care of her now-...moreWhen Kelsea Raleigh turns nineteen, nine hardened soldiers turn up at the door to the isolated cottage where she's grown up under the care of her now-elderly foster parents, Carlin and Barty. She knew the day would come, she's always known who she is and what she's been prepared for - and why she was hidden. Until now. At nineteen Kelsea has inherited the throne from her long-dead mother, Queen Elyssa, a woman she's never known but has built up in her head as wonderful, good. The Peacemaker Queen, they call her mother, because of the treaty she signed with the Red Queen of Mortmesne twenty-five years ago that ended the Mort invasion just as it reached the walls of the Queen's Keep - but not before the Mort army marched across Tear, sowing destruction and fear, raping and plundering as they went. The survivors of that invasion still have fresh memories, and everyone is afraid of Mortmesne and its long-lived queen.
Kelsea leaves the only home she's ever known to travel across the Tear to the capital, knowing that her life is in danger every day. Her uncle, the Regent, has hired assassins to kill her before she can reach the Keep, but it's the infamous thief known only as the Fetch who holds her life in his hands. Fulfilling her destiny to be crowned as queen of the Tearling is only the first step in Kelsea's dangerous new life. When she discovers the realities of the treaty her mother signed, she makes a decision that will forever mark her as a very different queen from her vain, unintelligent mother - and set her country on the brink of war.
I decided not to go into the plot too much in this review because this was a Fantasy I started reading with little knowledge or pre-conceived ideas, and partly as a result of that I absolutely loved this book. Even the ARC's proud proclamation that, months before the book has even been released, it's already in the works to be turned into a movie starring Emma Watson, didn't really affect me or my expectations. (And I always ignore the comparisons publicists make between this book and that one; I recommend others do the same.) The only thing I thought I understood, going into it, was that it was a YA fantasy - mostly because (and this probably sounds silly but blame successful marketing) my ARC is trade paperback-sized - and only YA prints in trade paperback size for genre fiction. (I've no idea what the actual book will look like, as it's not out yet.)
So, I went into this story not quite knowing what to expect, but hoping for a good story that I could sink my teeth into. That's precisely what I got, and more.
This one goes under my "magic and mystery" sub-category, because it's got plenty of both. I am, like other readers, leery of magically-endowed artefacts - in fact, they generally put me off from even picking up a book. It's always either a sword (popular phallic symbol used by male authors) or jewellery (used by both male and female authors - is it meant to symbolise the womb?). In this case, it's jewellery, a magical sapphire necklace that Kelsea has worn since she was born. There's an identical twin to the necklace that her mother had worn, which Carlin gives Kelsea after she turns nineteen. The sapphire has a life of its own and soon starts to enable Kelsea to see through the eyes of others; it can give her superhuman strength and even kill without a mark. We don't know where these necklaces came from or where any of the magic came from - in fact, the history of this world, such an intrinsic part of the world-building, remains a bit of a puzzle.
From early on, there's talk of "the Crossing" and life "pre-Crossing". We then learn a few more details that lead us to think that in our own future, we abandoned Earth, took to the stars, and colonised another planet. That interpretation, based on fairly vague facts, holds up until near the end, when what I took to be figurative references to "sea" or "ocean" suddenly become literal. Our descendants have abandoned the world as we know it, but for what or where exactly? Was the incredibly dangerous ocean they Crossed - an ocean that sank the all-important medical ship and drowned all the doctors and nurses on board - some kind of portal between worlds? A portal full of water? The possibilities are mind-bending, and I hope Johansen is going somewhere with this or I'll be extremely pissed off. In general, the details we're given about the establishment of the new colonies - headed up by different countries (apparently America and Britain teamed up to create the Tearling, but we're also told it was also founded by a man called William Tear who had a utopian vision; not sure how the two work together, and I can't quite imagine the US and UK becoming besties for such a huge thing) - are teetering on the edge of believability. They could easily fall one way or the other, depending on Johansen. Poorly executed world-building can sink a story in a second; on the other hand, if all the pieces come together and coalesce into something strong, vivid and plausible, then you've got a winner. We'll just have to see, on that score.
Where the story really excels is in the creation of the heroine, Kelsea, who feels very modern (contemporary to us) and personable; she's smart, compassionate, brave and honourable. She's succeeding two rather rotten rulers, her own mother and uncle, and her kingdom is on the brink of utter ruin. If you're not lucky enough to be born into the nobility, who own all the land and control everything, you're a peasant slaving away on their land for next to nothing, or some other menial labourer in the city. Attitudes towards women have markedly declined, there's no education, no books except those hoarded by a few people like Carlin - and no appreciation for them, either. The dominating religion, the Church, is a bastardised mix of Catholicism and Protestantism that uses the Bible mostly as a prop; it's rotten to its core. The people of the Tearling have known hardship like you can barely comprehend - far worse than in our own Medieval period upon which traditional fantasy is so commonly based. Despite being descendants of us, they've lost not only a great deal of modern technology and learning in the Crossing, but also the humanity we continue to strive for. A sense of what's "right", an end to the exploitation of children, women, indigenous groups etc., the valuation of literacy and education, of workers' rights. All gone, it seems, in this new world.
The odds are stacked up high against Kelsea. Now queen of a nearly bankrupted country with few resources, a weakened and illiterate population, rotten and corrupt from the inside by a few powerful people who seek only to protect their own interests (sounds familiar) and a powerful, strong and aggressive country looming over them, it's part of what makes this story compelling, seeing Kelsea - someone we can relate to so easily - come in and try to make changes. We know from the beginning that she survives her crowning and becomes a legendary queen - the Glynn Queen - so there's no uncertainty on that score. The tension comes, instead, from how it all happens. How does she defeat her enemies? How can she repair such a damaged and festering kingdom? It also comes from the so-far unanswered questions and mysteries surrounding other characters and history: who is the Fetch, and is he even human? How has the Red Queen stayed young for over a hundred years, and what is she doing to herself to achieve it? What is the dark thing she summons, and what are its goals? What is the Mace's story? (The Mace, as he's nicknamed, is Kelsea's "right hand man" and leader of the Queen's guard: fearsome, terrifying, knowledgeable.) What's the deal with the sapphires, and where exactly is this new world?
With a fast-paced plot and a comfortable, smooth writing style, Johansen has written a compelling and engaging fantasy novel taut with adult themes and gut-punching realities. She's started me on a journey into the heart and blackened soul of a corrupt world - a world inhabited for only a couple of centuries yet already suffering from human occupation. The machinations, treachery, bloodshed and grief are all too real, and it even had me crying till I couldn't read the words on the page at the end. Yes, it snared me. It will make a good movie, too. I'm indecisive over how original it is - certain key elements reminded me straight away of the YA fantasy series, Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson (which I also loved). It follows a familiar fantasy formula yet because of its futuristic setting, it's history based in our world, and the resulting mix of attitudes and adopted customs, it does tread on some fresh ground. Ultimately, it's well-written fantasy that you can curl up with and sink into. I don't even want to know how long I'll have to wait till the next book; I want to read it now, I'm not ready to put aside these characters and all those puzzles.
My thanks to the publisher for a copy of this book via TLC Book Tours.(less)
In 1971, Luke Kanowski leaves the small town of Seston for London with a few bags of his possessions, including his record player and notebooks. A lon...moreIn 1971, Luke Kanowski leaves the small town of Seston for London with a few bags of his possessions, including his record player and notebooks. A long-time theatre appreciator who's never seen a play, it takes a chance encounter with two people about his own age, Paul Driscoll and Leigh Radley, to motivate him into quitting his clerk job and leaving his parents behind to embark on his own life. His mother has been locked up in the mental asylum in Seston since Luke was five; he visits her often and resents his father, a Polish migrant who once flew fighter planes in World War II, for never seeing her or talking to her. He takes the train to London and calls the one person he knows there: Paul.
Paul is not much past twenty but doesn't want to be the engineer his father pushed him to be. He wants to be a producer. Now with Luke on side, a plan begins to take shape and a fledgling theatre company arises. With several others, they form Graft, a small, artsy theatre above a pub. When handsome, charming Luke sleeps with the stage manager and then doesn't talk to her again, she leaves and they hire Leigh. The same spark of familiarity, connection and desire that was there when they first met is still alive, but Luke is taking the admonishment of not sleeping with the stage manager to heart, and steps back. Paul fills the gap, and after a while of dating him Leigh moves in to their flat and the three settle into a comfortable rhythm.
Also in London is Nina, a young actress trying to break in. Raised mostly by her absent (and unknown) father's sister, her mother has been the dominant presence in her life. An actress who didn't want the burden of raising a child she didn't want, Marianne is selfish and egotistical. All Nina has ever wanted is her mother's love and approval; she'll do anything and become anything to make her mother happy. That's how she finds herself going to drama school, even though she's so shy, and how she became a shell of a person easily sculpted by anyone dominant and confident enough to take on the task. Which is what happens when she meets Tony Moore, a producer and one of her mother's young ex-lovers. Tony arranges her, dresses her and trains her like something between a doll and a pet. Nina hides so deeply behind a blank - appeasing and pleasing - mask that it's not long before any vestige of an individual person able to break free and create a life for herself is gone.
It's at the performance of In Custody, a heavy play in which Nina stars, that Luke first really sees her. Barefoot, blind-folded and gagged, she comes onto the stage after an intense, dark opening in which the sounds of heavy doors opening and slamming shut can be heard. The experienced is terrifying for Luke, whose mother has been locked up for so long; when he sees vulnerable Nina, when her face is bared to him, he sees a frightened young woman who needs to be freed.
It is Luke's all-consuming love for Nina, and the affair they embark upon, that ruins old friendships and nearly scuttles his just-blooming career as a playwright. Fallout is a coming-of-age novel for both Luke and Nina, a vividly-real, intimate look into what drives us, what shapes us and what love can cost us.
This might very well be my favourite Sadie Jones novel to date, although I can't really say that because I really do like all her novels quite a lot and the ones I've read so far have all been quite different (I haven't yet read Small Wars; really must!). There is something holding me back from full-out loving her books, but for the first half-ish of Fallout I was definitely in the "love" zone. My copy is an uncorrected proof (an ARC), which meant it had lots of typos, nothing major, but it did also have a slightly unpolished feel to it. The prose was, at times, a bit awkward or unclear, the punctuation so technically incorrect that the emphasis or meaning of a sentence was distorted or lost, rendering some parts unnecessarily clumsy, like you've stumbled on an uneven floor. Again, hard to know if the punctuation was going to be fixed or whether this is the style she's developed, but the control over commas versus semicolons or even periods was sloppy. The comma isn't the "new" semicolon; they affect a sentence quite differently. Misuse either one and you ruin the rhythm of your words and disrupt the flow. You can be "experimental" with punctuation, but you can also create an annoyingly disjointed mess if you don't do it well.
This is a story about people, about Luke and Nina, Paul and Leigh, about relationships, love, the battle scars in our relationships and the mistakes we make - and sometimes learn from. The characters are real, believable, familiar. The most interesting and confronting of them all was Nina, someone you pity and feel infinitely sorry for, but whom you can't respect. She lacks will, she lacks grit, she lacks perspective. She is a product of her mother's critique and Tony's homoerotic desires (for instance, her mother keeps her skinny because chunky girls don't get hired; Tony keeps her skinny because he likes her to look like a boy). The arrival of Luke in her life, someone she feels instantly drawn and attracted to in the same way he does with her, presents an opportunity: a chance to take control of her life, figure out who she is and what she wants, and be fulfilled and happy.
But Nina has a diseased soul. Theirs is a love affair that begins with such hope and promise - you truly, truly want them both to be happy, and free, and together - that soon becomes something poisonous and even destructive. I sometimes hear, in movies maybe, people say that they're with the right person for the wrong reasons, or the wrong person for the right reasons, or some variation on that theme. There was a touch of that here. What I loved about it was how truthful, honest and messy it all was. Jones has a real knack for capturing ordinary, middle-class people in all their glorious strengths and flaws, and letting events play out naturally. While I did find that there was a slight sense of an author-creator (god-figure) manoeuvring pieces into place (it's the way she writes), once there the characters took over, their personalities guiding events and their ultimate fallout.
The star of the story was the setting and era itself: the backdrop for the fallout of relationships. London in the late 60s and early 70s is a place on the cusp, a place discovering love and life and excitement. A place still being held back by the tight grip of tradition and society but increasingly stretching its wings. Theatre is prominent, and popular. New bands and music rock the airwaves - which people actually listen to. It incorporates women's lib but nothing overtly political or radical. This is a story set in the hearts of its characters, rather than their heads. While there, I felt like I was there. I could picture things quite well thanks to all the British telly I've watched over my lifetime, and the flavour of their speech really helps catapult you there. Eminently readable but not exactly pleasurable, Fallout had me wrapped up in the characters so that I was going to bed thinking about them, however disquieting and somehow off the story and the writing was at times.
Visit my blog to enter to win a copy of both The Publicist and Shelf Life (2-book giveaway), open internationally from now until 22nd April 2014.
Shelf...moreVisit my blog to enter to win a copy of both The Publicist and Shelf Life (2-book giveaway), open internationally from now until 22nd April 2014.
Shelf Life continues the story of New York publicist, Kate Mitchell, picking up not long after the end of book one. More unhinged authors, more terrible titles, and more time with the sexiest editor in the country, MacDermott Ellis. Mac isn't happily married to his wife of twenty years, Carolyn, but he's always been clear he'll never leave her either. Kate knows this as well as any other woman he's been with, but the thought of breaking the affair off with him just isn't something she feels capable of doing. Both Kate and Mac are putting off facing the hard decisions and emotional heartbreak that, deep down, they know must come one day.
That day arrives in the summer, the day they launch the biggest book on Morris and Dean's portfolio for the year: The Continued Promise, the follow-up to a previous bestseller, The Promise. The CEO of MD, Edward - a dictatorial man in his seventies who's been running things for as long as anyone can remember and who thinks its his right to feel up the female employees - unexpectedly moved up the release date without a clear reason, and the alarm bells are ringing louder than ever in Kate's head. Her gut instinct was always that the author, Michael Singer, was suspect, and when the FBI arrest him on the same day the book launches, it's not just MD that suffers, or Kate's career. When Kate learns that Mac knew about the police investigation but didn't tell her so she could prepare damage control, she's devastated. Her career might not be salvageable, and now she knows that her relationship with Mac isn't either.
Rather than face her situation square on, Kate runs - she escapes New York for the sun and surf of California where her friend Nick gives her valuable time and space to recover. It's time to sort our her life, her head and her heart, but that's easier said than done. As much as she keeps telling herself she's over Mac, there's a part of her that's still running from the truth.
Having just read the first book, The Publicist, I knew exactly what to expect from Shelf Life in terms of character and style. However, compared to the first book, there's a lot more plot in book 2. Having established her characters and the dynamics between them as well as the publishing industry, George moves on to Kate's personal story. The breakup we always knew was going to come, came, and Shelf Life is very much Kate's story of self-discovery and overcoming obstacles. With the same humour and entertaining insider stories as The Publicist, this was just as fun and engaging to read - perhaps more so, as there were some real nail-biting scenes and I loved learning how Kate was going to get herself out of some tight spots. She's certainly very good at her job, though as we all know, being good at your job doesn't protect you from the sharks.
There is an element to George's style that, while it makes for a quick, consistent pace, also makes events seem a bit too pat. A bit too easy, which can make it feel less realistic. Part of the problem is that, despite Kate being for the large part a worthy protagonist, for large chunks of this story things just happened to her, so that even when she was actively making a decision, it still felt like she was a passive recipient of good luck. It's hard to pin-point, because she's an extremely hard worker who rose up out of the ashes of her career to forge a new path, and she forged it well. It was just a bit too, well, convenient, that Allan Lavigne's book would be an instant bestseller and so beloved by everyone - when does that ever happen? There isn't a single book that doesn't have its critics - and everything worked out so well for her. I was happy for her, but it started to lose its sense of realism because the story became a kind of list telling us all the good things to happen one after another.
Granted, Kate's love life is still a big mess, but I confess I started to lose patience with her after a while. There were aspects of Kate's character that were largely missing, and she wasn't flawed enough to seem human. Her world is surprisingly small and her new boyfriend, Nick, is way too perfect. You never really get to know him, beyond that he's very attractive and very successful. He's depicted as a fantasy, which Kate never picked up on - fantasies do not make for solid, long-term relationships. I liked Nick, thanks to a few moments when we get to see him vulnerable, but he's representative of a certain manly ideal women supposedly have - a cliché or a stereotype of what women want in a man that I've come across so many times before, in romantic comedies and other formats - so for me he was a vacuous, unappealing romantic character who served as a plot device rather than as a human being in his own right.
I could say the same about many characters in many books, who get side-lined by the "main event" - in this case, Kate and Mac's messy relationship. Mac was the real star of the story, even though he, too, fulfils the role of another stereotypical male love interest. It was his flaws, and the fact that he's a philanderer, that gave him an edge as a character over all the others. Kate's flaws are distantly irritating ones, the kind of flaws that women latch onto because she seems so bloody perfect and all these attractive men keep falling in love with her. Too good, you know? You just want to see them fall, and not in the sense of bad things happening to them: no, you just want a sign that they're human, that they're loved not because their perfect (for what mortal woman can compete with, or hope to achieve, that?) but because they're human and imperfect and its our imperfections that make us endearing to the right person.
But like I said, it's a very engaging, entertaining read, and this one in particular - because of it's well-rounded conclusion - had me gripped. In a way it's reminiscent of Hollywood movies, in that it follows a fairly predictable path, but as with the movies, it doesn't stop you from enjoying the ride. Part of the enjoyment, I think, is in knowing the formula and the glee you get from seeing how things unfold. Plus, despite the truly atrocious titles these publishers put so much weight behind (self-help? bad tell-alls by convicted murderers?), or perhaps because of them, it's so much fun to get that peek inside the industry. If Kate's path to rescuing her career and finding love was a bit smooth and convenient, the shady, political dealings inside publishing more than make up for it.
My thanks to the author for a copy of this book via iReads Book Tours(less)
Kate Mitchell has worked as a publicist at Morris & Dean Publishing (MD) in New York City for seven years now; she's nowhere near the bottom rung...moreKate Mitchell has worked as a publicist at Morris & Dean Publishing (MD) in New York City for seven years now; she's nowhere near the bottom rung of the ladder in her department, but she's not getting the "big books" either. Yet, to her authors, she's a hero: saving them from jumping off a building after a bad review in the New York Times, arranging for a celebrity to turn up at their book signing before MD cancels their book contract because sales aren't good enough, and generally doing her job with professionalism and creativity.
She's still young, and after a few messy relationships with the "wrong" men, decidedly single. But there's always MacDermott Ellis. Mac, a much older but still very attractive and charming man, is a known philanderer - a discreet one, but it's a well-established fact that he's been married for over thirty years, has two kids, and absolutely no intention of ever leaving his wife, Carolyn. Knowing that, it doesn't stop women from embarking on an affair with him, falling in love and having their hearts broken. Mac's never made a move on Katie - before now. His warm, friendly interactions kick up a notch when he invites her to dinner to discuss an upcoming "big book" that he wants her to work with him on; it could be her big break.
Mac is smooth, but genuine all the same. He stays in his marriage for several reasons, though he slowly comes to admit that now, it's because he doesn't have the guts to make such a big change in his life. Not to mention devastate his two boys. Kate has always considered herself too smart to get involved with him, too - not only is he married, and not only is he a colleague, but she knows she could fall for him.
Through the sometimes hilarious ups-and-downs of publishing publicity and in-house politics, Kate forges a path for her career and balances the increasing workload with her increasingly flirtatious outings with Mac. She must figure out a way to listen to both her heart and her gut instinct, and trust herself to make the right decisions for her own happiness. But does that mean loving Mac, or distancing herself from him?
'Christina George' is the pseudonym for a publishing industry insider, a publicist who has used her experience and true-to-life anecdotes to bring colour to this chick-lit romance story - though not all of them are true. If I didn't know George worked in the biz and was using a pen name so she could share these often outlandish scenarios, I would have said they were too outrageous to be believable. It's amazing, human behaviour, and what people who work "behind the scenes" get to see: the 'warts and all'. These authors are a mixed bunch, but many of them are entitled, arrogant, demanding, neurotic, obsessive, and have no personal skills whatsoever. Though to be fair, most of the books Kate had to publicise sounded like utter trash, too. Nothing I'd be interested in reading, that's for sure.
It was definitely the strength of the novel, though, this insight into the mainstream publishing industry. I've worked for a small independent publisher in the past, and seen that even at that level there're plenty of colourful characters and eye-rolling stories of authorial entitlement. It makes for an entertaining read, even if it didn't always flow through the story with a natural feel. That's down to George's writing, which hasn't yet matured but shows plenty of potential.
The romance also had a decent 'true-to-life' feel to it, which gives the whole story a kind of TV-show realism (an oxymoron I know, but the way I can think of to capture The Publicist's flavour). Mac is charismatic and a nice shade of grey, reminding us that not everyone who embarks on an extra-marital affair (or two or two dozen) is an automatic sleaze-ball. You can see quite clearly how stuck he is, how he's internalised the problems with his marriage and, rather than deal with them in a productive manner, hides from them. He keeps the status quo, a little boy pretending to be an adult, trying to protect his wife while also trying to find a slice of happiness for himself. You might not approve of his methods, but he still conjures up sympathy, making Kate's decision less simple.
I would have liked a bit more pre-sex tension and chemistry, more of a build-up; to establish their mutual attraction a bit more - not necessarily in terms of time but in terms of their interactions, the depth of them. It becomes a bit too descriptive, with too much "tell" and not enough "show". It's hard to feel what they're feeling when you're only told.
Supporting characters help to flesh out the story and Kate's world: her best friend Grace, an artist; her friend Allan Lavigne, an elderly man who once, in 1969, published a bestseller called The Fall and was in an iron-clad contract with MD to publish his second book, which he'd never written; and Nick, Allan's nephew from California who reminds Kate of Matthew McConaughey - now she's got two men to choose from, and an even bigger decision to make.
It's a relatively short novel, with a swift pace and near-constant movement, plenty of dialogue and even a scene that brought tears to my eyes. It was entertaining but really, the story has only just started, and ends on something akin to a cliffhanger. The story continues in Shelf Life, which I'll be reviewing next.
My thanks to the author for a copy of this book via iRead Book Tours.(less)
Emily Oliphant is finally on a fulfilling path. She's left her abusive husband, John; she's living in a lovely old house and just been given an amazin...moreEmily Oliphant is finally on a fulfilling path. She's left her abusive husband, John; she's living in a lovely old house and just been given an amazing offer to buy it from the owners, two old farming brothers, Trevor and Donald Baker; she's enjoying the supportive and honest company of her friend Barbara; and she's taking small but increasingly certain steps in standing up to her overly-critical, judgemental, guilt-tripping mother. So she has hardly any money because she signed-off so quickly on a settlement with John rather than fight for her fair share. So she has no job and doesn't know what she's going to do with herself. She's free of her miserable marriage and living independently for the first time in her life, with her dog, Grace.
In the days before Christmas, which she's hosting at her house, she has an unexpected visitor: Nathan, the new, young assistant bank manager who her mother has been trying to set her up with. He's moved back to the area and doesn't want to live with his parents. He asks if she'd like a lodger, and while the money would be extremely helpful, Emily is learning to put herself first and think things through, and declines. She doesn't want to give up what she's so recently gained, and have to share her home. Yet when she gets a call from architect Jake, her cousin's friend, asking her if he can stay the weekend while he's in her area on a business trip, she eagerly agrees.
When Jake arrives, Emily's in the midst of organising her grandmother's button jar, something she gave Emily before her death several years earlier. Emily finds the job therapeutic, but when Jake joins in he discovers something with potentially huge repercussions: uncut diamonds from India. Suddenly it seems like Emily's sitting on the answers to all her problems: money, and lots of it too. But almost immediately Emily starts thinking about all the problems that could arise if she tries to cash the diamonds in, and even more importantly to her, that there's something slightly sacrilegious about selling things her gran had held onto for so long, and kept secret. So the buttons and the diamonds go back into the jar, and Jake agrees not to tell anyone about the find.
After Christmas - blessedly mother-free - Emily receives a new shock, and then another. It seems like just when she was on the road to sorting out her life, figuring out what to do with herself and looking forward to the future, fate intervenes in more ways than one. Now she must draw upon her new-found strength and resilience to work her way through these new circumstances, but Emily is still a novice at being an independent, strong, resourceful woman, and she doesn't always make the best decisions.
When I expressed my interest in reading this book, I didn't realise it was the sequel to Saving Grace, or part of a series. The premise interested me: I was drawn to the idea of a woman finding her feet, putting her love into home and land, and "turning a new leaf". That certainly is what the story is about, only not in a way that I enjoyed all that much.
The trouble is, mostly, Emily herself. She's a tricky character to pin an entire story on, someone who lacks courage, inner strength, experience or, sometimes, a sane head on her shoulders. She did try my patience more than once, and it was hard to feel sympathetic for her when she seems like such a drip. I guess I don't have all that much patience for someone so gauche, so insipid, so uncertain and, at times, childish. I haven't read Saving Grace - and I don't feel a strong need to, since Time Will Tell covers the pertinent details well - so I haven't seen the character's growth arc from the beginning (having read a few other reviews, I gather she's come a long way, so it's just as well I started with book 2). Emily does make progress - I find I have to tell myself that sternly, because it's easy to forget - and she does learn to stand up for herself a bit more, but honestly she could be pretty infuriating at times.
My struggle with Emily was compounded by the fact that I could empathise, sympathise and understand her problems and what she was going through. McCallum did a good job in bridging the gap between me and my personality, and Emily. It almost made me angry, at times, sympathising and empathising while at the same time wanting to throw up my hands and leave her to it. She does go on a bit! It's a slow-paced novel, and while some plot points felt horribly contrived (what happens to John, especially), others seemed to evolve naturally. There were things that I wasn't really sure about - such as whether the townsfolks' censure of Emily was all in her own head - and some things that seemed ominous and sinister - like Nathan's pushy self-invitations and phone calls (does she know she has diamonds and wants to steal them? Nah, he couldn't, but then what's with his behaviour??). I couldn't quite get a grip on this story, and that bothered me more than anything. The cosy relationship between Emily and Jake was both too easy and too formulaic, and I didn't really feel much chemistry between them - exacerbated by the fact that if I was annoyed by Emily, how could I understand what someone lovely like Jake saw in her? That's the trouble with being so firmly inside the head of someone like Emily (told in third person but strictly from her point-of-view): we see her in much the same negative light as she sees herself.
Overall, it's not a bad story, and I had no trouble reading to the end, it's just not a character I could really love. I appreciated her struggles, her personal growth, but she's just not the kind of person I could be friends with in real life. I'd have better luck with Barbara (though who calls their kids "Barbara" anymore? It made me picture her as a fifty-year-old woman, at least, and I think she's meant to be Emily's age). Not sure why Barbara doesn't lose patience with Emily, though. The woman is more patient and kind-hearted than I am, it seems. Oh which reminds me, there was something of the "kicked dog" to Emily - apt, considering she is the victim of domestic violence and worse at the hands of her ex-husband. Not having lived through that with her (in Saving Grace), I could only sympathise in the abstract. Perhaps that, ultimately, is the problem with reading the sequel to a book you've never read: you don't "get" the protagonist in the way you should. But I don't think so. There are plenty of stories that leave people's back story in the past, and don't relive it. I treated this like that, and found that the references to the past were enough. It's really just Emily, and to a slightly lesser degree, the writing style, that just didn't click with me.
My thanks to the publisher for a copy of this book.(less)
This was a nice, quick read, quite engrossing and interesting. The format reminds me of some other story - a book or a film - but I can't think what a...moreThis was a nice, quick read, quite engrossing and interesting. The format reminds me of some other story - a book or a film - but I can't think what and it's really bugging me. I don't mean that it's derivative, only that I think it might be inspired by an older tale, if only I could what it is! Oh wait, am I thinking of the film Brazil maybe? Dreams within dreams? I feel like I'm getting warmer.
The characters are a bunch of misfits, except perhaps for the main character and John. The mystery, then, was why they were there and what their connection was. The story follows a pattern that you think is going to get repetitive and boring but isn't because the "real" world, the dream space (the white room) gets incorporated into the scenarios. Though the characters are surprisingly slow at realising this.
It moves swiftly and keeps the momentum up, but to do so Celine had to sacrifice some much-needed character development. The characters are fairly thin sketches, a bit stereotypical, though they hint at greater depths. This is the first book in a series and while I'm not sure where the story goes from here (same characters??), it makes for fun, interesting reading.
Read in May 2014. My thanks to the publisher for a copy of this book via Netgalley. (less)
In 1808, when Alexandra Broughton is fourteen, her mother returns from court to the family home with a new husband, a bun in the oven, and new step-si...moreIn 1808, when Alexandra Broughton is fourteen, her mother returns from court to the family home with a new husband, a bun in the oven, and new step-siblings for her children, Simon, Alex and Annie. None of them are used to having their snobby, social-climbing mother at home, but her affair with Gerrard Washburn, Earl of Thorncliffe, has caused King George III - a well-known prude and quite different from his son, Prince George - to expel her from court with the decree that they marry.
The upset to the Broughton children's daily life is soon forgotten - it's hard not to like Lord Thorncliffe, and when baby Meg arrives they're all smitten (except her mother, who lacks motherly love). It's the arrival of Gerrard's two children from his previous marriage, Patrick and Maeve, that change everything for Alex. Maeve is a happy, enthusiastic, loving girl of the same age as Annie - who shares her mother's sense of vanity and ambition - but Patrick is Alex's beloved brother Simon's age, and the two quickly become friends. Stuck in the middle, Alex puts her efforts into being childishly petulant and difficult, resentful that Patrick has come between her and handsome, popular Simon.
Yet she's also drawn to Patrick in ways she barely understands. As Alex matures she puts aside her dislike and resentment towards Patrick and the two become friends, but the friendship is strained by Alex's unrequited feelings for Patrick. Once both Simon and Patrick are of age, they both decide to sign up for the war against Napoleon, despite their family's protestations. Simon uses his medical pre-training from university to help the wounded, while Patrick buys an officer's rank and sees real battle. With the two men she loves most in such danger zones, Alex struggles to sit quietly at home and wait.
Meanwhile, her mother has arranged a marriage for her with a young Scottish lord, Hamish, a preening, vain man who, it readily becomes apparent to the reader, has more of an eye towards pretty young men than he does his affianced bride. Alex was resigning herself to marrying Hamish - a contract that doesn't seem breakable - when Patrick returns from war and everything changes.
Torn was a refreshing change from either your typical "Regency Romance" or the many historical fiction novels set in the era that strive to mimic Pride and Prejudice. Turner has focusses on the historical period by going to historical sources rather than fictional ones, which gives a fresh perspective on the early 19th century (pre-Regency). She also turned the lens of the story onto the Napoleonic War, which I appreciated - Austen never focussed on that, her characters just bought a shiny red uniform and everything was tickety-boo. The descriptions of the hell's of war will resonate with readers because they sound just like the descriptions of the World Wars that we've absorbed, because despite the changes in weaponry, tactics or political context, war is war and what soldiers endure doesn't change all that much.
This is a coming-of-age novel set over the course of several years while Alex is a teenager. While Turner has made efforts to use diction and syntax appropriate to the period, Alex's first-person voice is often a bit contemporary, a bit too modern. It's not that people didn't swear or speak in more relaxed ways, just that some of Alex's phrasing sounded a bit too late-20th-century, and jarred. That aside, it's clear that while certain expectations of young women have changed drastically, the struggles and inner turmoils of adolescence and young love remain unchanged over the centuries. We can change our costumes, our expectations and perspectives as much as we like, but at heart we're no different from people living in any other age.
The novel was a bit slow and uneventful, which I wouldn't have minded except that for much of the book it lacked the tension it needed to propel the narrative - and the reader - forward. The story doesn't pick up until after Simon and Patrick join the war. Much of the first half is made up with establishing Alex's rude behaviour towards Patrick, and their prickly understanding. It's just hard, following the exploits of a not-very-likeable girl going through the pains of adolescence. Perhaps it's that fact, that in the first half of the book, Alex isn't a very sympathetic character - you can sympathise with her resentment and understand her behaviour all too well, but it goes on for too long. Patrick has the charisma to carry the story and keep you reading - there's just something about him, from his moments of casual cruelty to his raw sex appeal, his sense of humour and moments of loving tenderness. He keeps you on your toes, that's for sure, though it's one of my personal hang-ups that I don't like hearing men calling women "bitch", especially when they're in love with them.
This isn't a standalone novel but the start of a series, and the ending, while no cliffhanger, is a prelude to the second book, Inviolate. In fact, I would say that the entire novel (Torn) is a bit of a prelude. It establishes the characters, who drive the story forward, and their dramas, as set-up for where the story will go from here. There is a definite feeling that the second book will have more of a dramatic punch than this one, as the stakes are all out on the table and the way things ended in Torn definitely leave you reeling a bit. (I think we'd all agree by the end that Annie is despicable, shallow and lacking in character.) Alex does make me want to shake her though, especially at the end where she lets Patrick's past mistakes and reputation over-rule everything she knows about him, and instead takes the side of the sister she never respected. What's with that? I could understand Alex's emotions but after the initial shock, where's her head? She's an intelligent girl who shows, time and again, a lack of maturity and understanding of others. I guess she's inherited a bit of her mother's superficial outlook, but it was disappointing and slightly contrived for the sake of drama and tension. I'm on the fence a bit over the ending, and I'm not sure where the prologue and epilogue, told by an elderly Meg who has something important she needs to commit to paper, is going. She's not telling the story, that's for sure, so she must know some painful secret.
Overall, a solid first novel that will appeal to those readers who like a slowly evolving historical fiction story set pre-Regency, populated by familiar characters and narrated by a young, torn heroine who feels all-too human.
My thanks to the author for a copy of this book.(less)