Helga Recommends: Patricia Veryan

My mother was a great fan of historical romance, and I happily followed her lead. There's pretty much nothing I'd rather read than a good historical--one with the right mix of historical detail and relationship-building. Ideally, a book that reflects the author's interest in and research about the historical period and not one riddled with obvious anachronisms and modern characters transposed onto historical settings. The less said about those, the better.

Let me get to the point. If you like Georgette Heyer's historical romances, you should try Patricia Veryan. If you like historical romance with elements of swashbuckling adventure (à la Scarlet Pimpernel), you should read Patricia Veryan. If you enjoy historical romances with characters that pop up in multiple books, especially series that end with rogues becoming heroes, Veryan could be a good fit for you as well. I am a Heyer fan, but I'm a Veryan fanatic. Every time I visit a new library, I go to the Vs in the fiction section to see how that library's collection measures up.* As you can see from the picture below, I am deadly earnest about this recommendation.

My personal collection includes my mother's copies as well,
hence the stack of duplicates on the right. 

From the late 1970s to the early 2000s, Veryan published more than thirty historical romances set in the Georgian and Regency periods. Most of her books are connected to four different series: the Golden Chronicles (set in 1746 in the aftermath of the Jacobite rebellion); the Tales of the Jewelled Men (featuring several characters from the Golden Chronicles); and the Regency-era Sanguinet Saga and Riddle series.

Why Do I Love Them?

This was surprisingly hard to quantify. To me, Veryan's books are a perfect blend of humor, romance, action, adventure, swashbuckling, and period detail. Perhaps it's because there are always interesting and life-threatening situations that put the hero and heroine in relief? There are very few books that I re-read, but these are on top of my list. I would be perfectly fine stranded on a desert island with only Veryan series and Oreos to sustain me. In short: my literary catnip.

This scene is from The Tyrant (which I was just re-reading the other day), in which the hero and heroine become engaged to hide the fact that they were aiding a fugitive. They hope to extricate themselves from the engagement once the danger is past, but in the meantime:

Carruthers swooped down and planted a kiss on her cheek.
She jumped back, saying indignantly, "I thought it was agreed there was to be none of that!"
He shook his head at her. "You'd make a poor spy, Miss Ramsay. You seem quite incapable of understanding that this is a most deadly predicament you have got me into."
"Of course I understand, but--"
"It is of vital import that we keep up the pretence if we are to come out of this alive."
She glanced around. "Certainly. But there is no one here to--"
"One of the first things I learned in my military career," he said gravely, "was that one does not fail to post sentries merely because there is no sign of the enemy."
Phoebe regarded him suspiciously, then started up the stairs. She halted on the third step and looked back. He stood there, watching her. She fancied to detect a quickly suppressed grin, but then he said "I believe we have taken sufficient precautions for tonight, ma'am. Mustn't overdo it." (68) 

Like Heyer's, Veryan's books are also "green light" reads--there are only a few (very tasteful) sex scenes to be found throughout the series. Perfect for when you've got an elderly lady at your reference desk who doesn't like those "modern" romances.

Where Do I Start?

If you're looking for a one-shot, test-the-waters book, try The Wagered Widow, Married Past Redemption, or Some Brief Folly. Both Practice to Deceive and Time's Fool are good series openers, although they aren't my favorite books in their respective series. Love Alters Not is another fun book, if you don't care about jumping in to the middle of a series.

Several of my personal favorites (Sanguinet's Crown and The Mandarin of Mayfair top this long list) are many books into a series and should be read as a culmination of plots from the preceding books.

Books to avoid unless you become a die-hard fan: The Lord and the Gypsy, The Mistress of Willowvale, Give All to Love. The Riddle series was her last, and I haven't re-read it multiple times like I have the other three.

Unfortunately, Veryan's books are very hard to find. Her last new book was published in 2002. They are not easily found in used bookstores--trust me, I check every time, even though I own all but a few of them. Georgette Heyer's books have recently been reissued in lovely trade editions. Let's hope for the same for Veryan's work in the near future. In the meantime, check your local library.


Other things I've recommended:
Podcasts
Paper Books


*My own library does very well, with 16 Veryan titles on the shelf. I check them out regularly to make sure they don't get weeded.

Book Review: Rusalka [1989]

C.J. Cherryh's folktale-influenced historical fantasy Rusalka came up in my second Reading Roulette draw and was recommended by my friend Jessica. I've read and enjoyed some of Cherryh's science fiction, and had this series (known as "The Russian Stories") on my bookshelf forever. But I never read them! So thanks to Jessica and this project for giving me the push I needed.

In the world of Rusalka, magic is a matter of intent or "wishing." Sasha is an orphaned teen who has long kept his wishing abilities as tightly leashed as possible, living as he does on the mercy of his aunt and uncle. But when the town's layabout jokester lands himself in trouble and unwittingly involves Sasha, they must flee together. The wounded Pyetr Kochevikov, who once frolicked with the children of the nobility, finds in Sasha a true and unstinting friend. Although their theoretical destination is Kiev, the two refugees find themselves wandering through a blighted forest and eventually end up at the mercy of the cranky and elderly wizard Uulamets. 

Uulamets agrees to heal Pyetr and teach Sasha in return for an undefined payment, which repeatedly leads the young men into peril. The old wizard's daughter Eveshka is a rusalka, a spirit that devours all living energy around it; Uulamets wants to bring her back to life, and Sasha and Pyetr become caught up in his magical workings. An emotional sympathy arises between Pyetr and Eveshka, despite the fact that her mere presence drains him of life without outside intervention. Budding wizard Sasha learns to negotiate the world with his awakening powers as the skeptical Pyetr comes to grips with the knowledge that much of what he's long scoffed at is not only real, but much more powerful than he can comprehend. This motley band must seek out the wizard who holds Eveshka's heart trapped, or they will all meet an untimely end.

Grade: B-

The setting and magic system employed by Cherryh were a refreshing change from the erotic romances I've been reading for my 50 Shades readalikes project, but there were moments when it seemed as if they were never going to get out of the forest. The characters seemed trapped in an infinite loop--fruitless searching, repeated conversations, and a depressing gradual loss of life and energy. Despite that, I did ultimately power through and enjoyed the book's climactic scenes.

The book was nominated for a Locus award, and Cherryh "extensively rewritten" the series--known collectively as the Russian Stories--and reissued them in ebook format. There were enough issues with pacing that I would be curious to read the updated version to see what she's done with the text, and if I go on to read Chernevog and Yvgenie, I will be buying the ebooks for sure.

Book Review Index

Book Review: The Year of Living Scandalously [2010]

Julia London's (real name Dinah Dinwiddie) The Year of Living Scandalously is the first book in her Secrets of Hadley Green series. It came up in my third Reading Roulette selection, and I read it with blazing speed. Warning: spoilers abound in this review.

The primary mystery of Hadley Green is the disappearance of the Ashwood jewels, for which a talented carpenter named Mr. Scott was tried and executed in 1793. Miss Lily Boudine, upon whose testimony the conviction largely rested, has felt troubled ever since, although she left Ashwood and England soon after to be raised by her Irish relations. The jewels were never recovered.

Now, the year is 1808. Lily has inherited Ashwood and its mysteries, but is unwilling to disrupt her Continental travel plans to assume her responsibilities, sending her cousin Keira in her stead to look after things. Lily and Keira look enough alike to be mistaken for one another, which is just what the Ashwood servants do upon her arrival. An impulsive Keira allows the misapprehension to continue in order to make herself useful around the estate, which is close to financial ruin and requires an active manager. In the process of auctioning off some of the estate's horseflesh, she encounters Declan O'Connor, Earl of Donnelly. Keira and Declan have their own history of attraction and heartache in Ireland; while he trusts Keira's judgment not at all, Declan also does not reveal her charade.

After some persuasion, Keira actively enlists Declan's help in solving the mystery of the missing jewels and clearing Mr. Scott's name, as she has uncovered evidence that he was the former Lady Ashwood's lover. At the same time, Keira finds herself weighed down more and more by her deception as she grows close to the people of Hadley Green and works with them to plan a gala event for the benefit of the orphanage. Questions abound: When will Lily return and bring everything crashing down on Keira's head? Who is the mysterious and threatening Lord Eberlin who seems bent on destroying the estate? Will Keira and Declan's growing intimacy overwhelm their good sense and plunge them into a sexual relationship? (Yes.) What happened to the missing jewels?

Grade: B-

What The Year of Living Scandalously suffers from is a surfeit of everything. Not only is there a central mystery that is unresolved by the end of the book, but Keira and Declan have their own past to resolve and her current difficulties to untangle as best as possible. Since it's the first book of a romance series, characters are introduced who will clearly be featured in subsequent books, but in this one they don't have all that much to do. Scenes of Keira and Declan methodically investigating the mystery outweighed those with them giving in to desire, which was refreshing on one hand--but on the other, confusing. The payoff didn't seem to reward the investment.

Let's say that you're given a book which promises a mystery. The characters are all invested in solving that mystery, and it's the reason given by the heroine for involving the hero and for continuing to impersonate her cousin. All your energy as a reader is directed at two things: getting the hero and heroine together, and solving the mystery. But London leaves readers with a huge cliffhanger when she ends the book with Lily under threat from Lord Eberlin and the jewels still missing. While this made me request The Revenge of Lord Eberlin because I WANT TO KNOW what happened, it also left me grumpy.

Book Review Index

Book Review: Freedom & Necessity [1997]

Several years ago, my sister gave me a copy of Freedom & Necessity, which came up in my second Reading Roulette* draw, enabling it to come off the bench and into the game at last. The book is an epistolary novel from science fiction fantasy heavyweights Steven Brust and Emma Bull that takes place, for the most part, in 1848 England.

As the novel opens, James Cobham--presumed dead, but in reality having recently escaped from captivity--writes his cousin Richard to enlist his assistance in uncovering the mystery of his "death." Their investigation evolves to include their cousins Kitty (romantically involved with Richard) and Susan. The story is told through letters between the four principal characters and their journal entries, with a few scattered newspaper clippings and book excerpts for good measure. Once the plot really gets going, it's rare to find any of the four in the same place at the same time, which makes the format choice logical, along with the fact that it was written by two authors.

The four relatives are all members of England's upper class, but it's revealed early on that James has long been living a double life as a radical and Chartist sympathizer. The identity of his pursuers, and whether they would prefer his death or recapture, is in doubt for most of the book and could be one of several groups. As questions continue to increase in number, with few answers forthcoming, the four work disparately and together to gather clues and put together information from their family's past to unravel the events of the present before it's too late.

It's difficult to describe the plot except to say that it involves revolutionaries and political intrigue, cross-country chases, family history, romance, and a group of people practicing a druidical magic. There is a great deal of discussion of Hegel, much of which went right over my head. The epistolary format sometimes lends itself to rambling and reflective passages that would definitely frustrate a reader looking for continuous action. However, the conclusion was well-plotted and satisfactory.

Grade: B+

While not precisely fantasy, the book does play with some fantastical elements, especially where the character of Kitty is concerned. If forced to put it in a genre, I'd call it historical fiction. Susan's character in particular was a delight to read, as she uses the mysterious events as a launching point to exercise a range of talents that she was never able to access in her role as a lady:

I'm doing this mostly because it's opened wide a door to a room inside me that before I could only guess at by the light along the sill and through the keyhole. It's a room in which all those things in me that, living the normal life of a well-bred woman, I could never use--strength and speed and hardiness; command over my mind and body; respect for the language of my senses; a certain ferocity of the spirit--are not only useful but essential (146).

This book is definitely not for everyone. If you're not down with having Friedrich Engels as a supporting character, don't even bother. But if you're interested in mid-19th century English history, if you like complex characters with flawed relationships, if you don't mind the occasional philosophical ramble . . . this book is definitely a good choice.

Book Review Index

*Which project has been sadly neglected in my attempt to read as many 50 Shades of Grey readalikes as possible, but which is now back on track as if those three months never happened. In my attempt to get this book (begun in February of this year) actually read, I resorted to keeping one copy at work, one at home, and one in my car.

Book Review: The Black Tower [2008]

In addition to Call of the Mild and The Passage, Louis Bayard's The Black Tower also came up in my first Reading Roulette draw. I was able to get the audiobook through the library, and was pleased to discover that it was narrated by my perennial favorite Simon Vance. The book is one that's been on my list for a long time, but I never would have gotten around to reading it if not for this project. I even learned a bit about French history!

The year is 1818. In Restoration France (only recently delivered back into the hands of the monarchy after Napoleon's rule), medical student Hector Carpentier is startled out of his routine by the appearance of one Vidocq, the criminal-turned-policeman who was responsible for creating the first detective bureau. Vidocq is investigating the death of a man who bore a well-concealed paper with "Dr. Carpentier" and Hector's address on it. Vidocq, brusque, crass, and possessing qualities similar to a terrier, is convinced that Hector must know something, and brings him along as he makes inquiries. As they trace the dead man's contacts, they uncover leads that stretch back to the days of the French Republic, when Hector's father was called to minister to the ailing dauphin, held captive in the Black Tower. Official reports claimed that the boy, Louis-Charles, died in 1795 at the age of ten.

They discover that there are certain people who believe the dauphin, who would have been Louis XVII if not for the overthrow of the monarchy during the French Revolution, is still alive, and there are several dead bodies to prove their earnestness. Vidocq and Hector find themselves with someone who might be the presumed-dead dauphin, but with no way to prove or disprove his identity. Questions abound: Is this Charles the real prince? How did he get out of the tower? If he did, who died in the tower in 1795? How was Hector's father involved? Throw in a buried journal, disguises, the guillotine, a duel, the nobility, Mesmer, and family secrets, and you've got a fun and dramatic mix of elements.

Grade: B

I enjoyed this both as historical fiction and as a good detective story, although this one ends with some questions still unanswered. One of the best parts of the book was Hector's slow maturation from predictable pushover to surprisingly unreliable narrator.

What to Read Next:

Although he and Vidocq are nothing alike (aside from their aptitude for clever disguises), The Black Tower made me want to read some Sherlock Holmes. Hector Carpentier plays a role that's very similar to Watson's at times.

Edgar Allan Poe's short story "The Murders in the Rue Morgue," which actually mentions Vidocq by name.

And again, I will recommend Josephine Tey's The Daughter of Time. Princes in a tower!

In terms of nonfiction, I'd recommend The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher by Kate Summerscale (audiobook also narrated by Simon Vance), which concerns a country house murder and a celebrated London detective in the 1860s.

Book Review Index

Book Review: Wolf Hall [2009]

Thomas Cromwell, widely known as a villain in the court of King Henry VIII, is made sympathetic by Hilary Mantel, who builds Wolf Hall exclusively around his experiences. The narrative is so closely tied to his perspective, in fact, that it is often difficult to determine which "he" is being referred to--I found that it was best to always assume Cromwell. The result is a character study of a self-made man, the son of an abusive blacksmith, who was at the center of some very important changes in law and religion.

Set primarily between 1527 and 1535, Wolf Hall traces Cromwell's path from his position as Cardinal Wolsey's right-hand man to his ascendancy at court as Henry VIII's Master Secretary. Although common-born, Cromwell functioned for many years as the calculating power behind the English throne. While the courtship and marriage of Henry and Anne Boleyn--which led to momentous changes (shepherded by Cromwell) in England's relationship with the Catholic church--is given its due, Mantel spends as much or more time on Cromwell's home life, his wards, and his relationships with businessmen and philosophers at home and abroad, focusing on the intricate workings of his busy existence. She doesn't disguise Cromwell's ambition, his love of wealth, and his belief that he can control everything, yet he still comes off sympathetically.

Conflict in the latter part of the book stems from Thomas More, the philosopher and former Lord Chancellor who refuses to support Henry's divorce of Katherine and marriage to Anne. Although Cromwell repeatedly tries to get More to swear to an oath to uphold the new order, he chooses instead to die for his faith. Mantel uses More, and many other examples, to drive home the seriousness of religious belief; in this world, it's a life and death matter. Over the course of the narrative, the church loses ground steadily, and those who had previously been branded "heretic" gain it. It's interesting to contemplate whether these changes would have taken place so rapidly had Henry not been so desperate.

Highly recommended, especially if you enjoy historical fiction. I listened to the audiobook as well as reading the paper copy, and the audio performance helped somewhat with the "'he,' which he does she mean?" problem.

Grade: A-

What to read after Wolf Hall:

• Bring up the Bodies, the 2012 sequel about the fall of Anne Boleyn, which also won a boatload of prizes.
• The Wives of Henry VIII, Antonia Fraser, a perennial favorite of mine.
• The Game of Kings, Dorothy Dunnett, is a similarly dense, but more swashbuckling character study of a fictional rogue Francis Lymond, set in 1547 Scotland. 
• The Daughter of Time, Josephine Tey--another revisionist history of a classic villain, this time Richard III.
• The Other Boleyn Girl, which featured Anne's sister Mary (also a character in Wolf Hall).
• The Swerve, which is not about the Tudors, but is also a book about the deadly seriousness of religion and great changes in the world.

The New Yorker on Thomas Cromwell and revisionist history.

Book Review Index

Book Review: Cotillion [1953]

I am an avid consumer of well-written historical romances, and Georgette Heyer is universally acknowledged as the queen of the Georgian/Regency period. I've read several of her books here and there, and recently had the opportunity to read Cotillion on a borrowed Nook e-reader. This is the first time I've actually used a real e-reader (rather than my tiny ipod touch) to read a book, and I found the experience similar to reading the paper version . . . which I also checked out from my library. I alternated between the two, and found it very easy to use the Nook, although I still prefer my books without batteries.

Cotillion is set in 1816 and takes place largely in London. However, the action begins at Arnside, an estate to which all the young, unmarried male relations of a crotchety (but wealthy) old man have been summoned. The man is Matthew Penicuik, and he wishes to provide his great-nephews with the opportunity to offer for his ward Kitty Charing's hand in marriage, and thereby inherit his entire fortune. Miss Charing herself is not particularly fond of this plan, although she has been in love with one of the intended targets, Jack Westruther, since she was young. Fortunately or unfortunately, Jack does not appear to make an offer, and Kitty concocts a scheme to become "engaged" to his cousin, Freddy Standen, in order to get to London and secure Jack's attention.

Freddy, whose judgment "in all matters of Fashion, was extremely nice" and who has an excellent grasp on proper behavior among the ton, is also acknowledged by himself and his family members to be a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to practical matters. His genial good nature leads him to acquiesce to Kitty's spur-of-the moment plan, although the idea of ultimately breaking their engagement goes strongly against his sense of propriety. Kitty feels guilty about the deception, then awed as she is brought into the Standen family fold and introduced to the wonders and pitfalls of glamorous society. Kitty's impulsive, friendly behavior gets her involved in several situations that she and Freddy work together to resolve as a pair of rather unlikely cupids, even as she begins to realize that Jack may not be the man she thought she loved. Cotillion is a seamlessly woven and gently humorous novel that is sure to appeal to any Regency fan.

Grade: A

Although the false engagement plot is very well-worn at this point, it was refreshing to have both a hero and heroine neither laboring under the harsh yoke of secrets from the past nor outcast from society in any way by their poor behavior. Definitely no rake in need of reformation, Freddy is a very engaging hero, and it is refreshing to have the main male character be a dandy with no hidden reserves of physical strength or intelligence. Rather, he is kind and tolerant, muddling through when other people's scrapes are thrust in his lap. There are a few issues I could take with the book--Kitty's month in London seems to stretch forever and the resolution of her relationship with Freddy happens quite suddenly--but nothing that dissuaded me from finding the book completely charming.

The author of more than fifty books, including detective novels, Heyer's masterful grasp of setting and the rhythm of language shines most brilliantly in her Regencies. The wry, understated humor in Cotillion had my lips twitching on any number of occasions:

The Chevalier's fingers, writhing amongst his glossy brown locks, were fast ruining what had been an admirable example of the Brutus, made fashionable by Mr Brummell. Freddy watched this with pained disapproval. It did not seem to him to serve any useful purpose; it was, in fact, a work of quite wanton destruction.

For a book that was published more than fifty years ago, Cotillion holds up incredibly well, and feels much more authentic and well-formed than most of what's published today in the same genre. If anyone reading this loves Regency romances and hasn't read something by Heyer, I would be truly sorry to hear it.

ETA: While she was dying, my mother embarked on a project to re-read (or read for the first time) all the Heyers she could get her hands on, which meant that I spent a lot of time getting books from several Salt Lake City libraries and creating a master list so we could track what she had read.

Additional reading:  
The Private World of Georgette Heyer, by Jane Aiken Hodge
Georgette Heyer's Regency World, by Jennifer Kloester

Book Review Index
Dead mother: Yes

Book Review: Wildthorn [2009]

On the surface, Jane Eagland's Wildthorn was tailor-made for me. After all, during my brief career as an academic (ask me nicely and I will show you the vestigial master's degree in English Literature, assuming I can locate it) I used to have aspirations of a Victorian nature. The cover features a corset close-up, and the book's tagline promises that while "Treachery locks her away. Love is the key." Wildthorn made it to the top of my list as soon as I discovered through a review that this redemptive love was of the girl-girl variety. I can't help my biases!

Although she believes that she's on her way to a new life as a companion after the untimely death of her physician father, Louisa Cosgrove instead finds herself locked away in a Victorian mental institution, Wildthorn Hall. She assumes that the reason is her "unnatural" attraction to her cousin Grace, although at first she presumes that her imprisonment is simply a mistake. After an abortive escape attempt leads to her transfer to one of the more unpleasant wards, Louisa finds love and salvation in the form of one of the prison guards, Eliza.

Grade: B-

As I said, this should have been the perfect book for me, but somehow it wasn't. I didn't love the mix of present tense for the current scenes and the length and volume of the flashbacks. Although Eagland explores some great issues--women's rights, love between women, sexual abuse, the experience of those condemned to live their lives in frighteningly mismanaged institutional settings--it sometimes felt more like an academic discussion than a novel. I desperately wanted to buy in to the romance between Louisa and Eliza, but I was lukewarm at best after it seemed to develop almost overnight.

One thing I did enjoy was Eagland's characterization of Louisa's drive to become a doctor, which was the motivation both for her "acting-out" behaviors and for her family's nervousness about her suitability for society. It was somehow not surprising that she was institutionalized not for the more obvious "sin" of being attracted to women, but for daring to dream of helping people in a way that was inappropriate both for her sex and her station.

ETA: I'm probably being hard on Wildthorn because I had such high expectations--because it does hit several areas that I dearly love. It was a good book! I enjoyed it. I just wanted it to be MORE, I guess. I look forward to reading the next lesbian Victorian YA novel, which hopefully will be written soon.

Book Review Index
Dead Mother: No

Book Review: Madensky Square [1988]

Before a moving article was published on the occasion of Eva Ibbotson's death in October, I would have said that I was extremely familiar her adult catalogue (and a few of her children's books, such as The Star of Kazan). After all, I'd read A Countess Below Stairs, A Company of Swans, The Morning Gift, and A Song for Summer. I'd tracked down and devoured Magic Flutes even before it was republished as The Reluctant Heiress. So when Laura Amy Schiltz revealed that Madensky Square "was Eva’s favorite among her books. It is also mine. It is one of the mysteries of publishing that Madensky Square is the only one of Eva’s adult novels that hasn’t been reprinted," I was stunned. I raced to find a copy, wondering how I could possibly have missed it. Thank you, interlibrary loan! 

Madensky Square is probably the most "adult" of Ibbotson's adult novels, both in terms of some darker subject matter and the occasional frank discussion of sex. That being said, it's still an Ibbotson novel, and its pages abound with charming, engaging characters. Plot lines are neatly wrapped up and there are delicious standalone sentences. The novel is written in first person as a journal kept by dress shop owner Susanna Weber from 1911 to 1912. In a thriving pre-World War I Vienna, Madensky Square is not just the location of Susanna's store and living quarters, but a thriving community populated with quirky characters who are deftly captured with a few artful sentences. Susanna, while undoubtedly at the heart of Ibbotson's narrative, puts others' stories before her own. We learn about the mysterious Polish orphan across the street who does nothing but practice the piano; her best friend's grief at the death of her married lover; the struggles of a plain girl whose mother is a militant intellectual; and her anarchist shop employee, Nini, whose actions have sad consequences she hadn't anticipated.

Susanna herself is enormously sympathetic; she is the 36 year-old mistress of a prominent military man, and struggles with the knowledge that the daughter she gave up at birth has been raised by a kind and loving family. She is acerbic when it comes to dresses made by the rival dressmaker across town, but supportive to nearly everyone else. The action of the story culminates in the threat of street expansion (a symbol of looming modernization) from the officious Herr Egger, who has dreams of naming rights. Also lurking is the knowledge, on the part of the reader, that World War I will soon sweep through and forever change the radiant and bustling culture that Ibbotson has recreated. Although things are wrapped up neatly at the end of the book, the ending isn't entirely happy, for which I was grateful. I was left with the sense of bittersweet enjoyment that one gets when reading a good book for the first time--knowing that it will end, but realizing that it can be experienced again.

Grade: A

Random Thoughts:

Although it seems to be categorized as "romance," it's not a romance in the modern sense of the word, but more in the old-fashioned sense of the French "roman" or story--it's a character and community study, rather than a man-woman love story, although that element certainly exists in it.

I'm not sure it was my favorite of Ibbotson's books, but it's probably my second favorite after A Countess Below Stairs. Although I loved the characters, as a staunch vegetarian I couldn't quite like the conversion of a veg to meat-eater through the mechanism of a few tempting meat morsels.

Short stories aren't really my thing, but I now have A Glove Shop in Vienna & Other Stories in my TBR pile. Once I am done I will either declare myself (once more) an Ibbotson master, or start reading her adult novels all over again.

Book Review Index
Dead Mother: Yes

Book Review: Beyond the Highland Mist [1999]

Once in a while I just chuck my TBR list and pick up something random at work that catches my eye. In this case it was the audio version of Karen Marie Moning's Beyond the Highland Mist, the first of the Highlander series. I'm a sucker for a good Scottish accent, so I was curious as to how a narrator would handle reading an novel set largely in 16th century Scotland. Phil Gigante (who apparently calls the genre "kilt lifters" instead of "bodice rippers") did a very good job, which means that I have spent the last week slipping into brogue at every opportunity. More than usual, I mean. The plot, however, wasn't really my cup of tea.

The fairy king and his fool are furious that a mere mortal, one Sidheach James Lyon Douglas, Earl of Dalkeith (known as "The Hawk"), has managed give their queen immeasurable carnal pleasure. The Hawk is a legendary lover of women, and the fairies are determined to punish him by marrying him to a completely unwilling partner. Adrienne de Simone escaped a harrowing relationship with a beautiful, treacherous man in New Orleans, only to be transported to 16th century Scotland and forcibly married to the Hawk. He is smitten with her on sight, but she has vowed never to fall for a beautiful man again . . .

Grade: B-

As a general rule, I am not fond of romance novels that contain extended falconry-based metaphors in which the woman is compared to a free-spirited bird who needs to be tamed by a master's hand. I nearly gave up listening when Sidheach actually hooded and bound Adrienne, but I put my eyes back in my head and muddled through somehow. I would describe the book as Outlander Lite, in which the setting of Dalkeith is vibrant and interesting, the romance complicated and the characters fairy well-developed. However, the historical depth--the sense of characters being placed in a larger world that might have a significant impact on their personal and political well-being--is largely absent. There are a few well-drawn supporting characters, but very little sense of community.

Random Thoughts:

The Hawk is rather unbelievable as a character--"this man who liberally dripped honor, valor, compassion, and chivalry"--in addition to being the hottest man in Scotland ("corded muscle," hung like a horse, bronzed skin, etc.), hand-carving all the items for his future children in the nursery that he designed, loving his mother, being good to his tenants, and so on. Luckily his perfection is redeemed (for me, at least) by his determination to view Adrienne as a woman to be claimed and branded as his.

It was sometimes a bit awkward to be listening to the sexy bits of a romance novel being read out loud. And by awkward I mean unintentionally hilarious. If I could run a search on the number of times the word "shaft" was used, it would definitely be in double figures, which would be only slightly more than the number of comparisons between that body part and the same part on a stallion. On the plus side, having someone read names like Sidheach and Aoibheal for me meant that I didn't have to figure it out myself and keep getting drawn out of the narrative trying to pronounce things in my head.

It's not clear if the fairy queen ever actually did sleep with the Hawk, or whether she is just using him to get revenge on her lovers. Another shoe that never really dropped was King James, who used the Hawk cruelly during the years of his service (even assigning him to sleep with a court lady), and who would definitely not approve of the Earl of Dalkeith finding real love with Adrienne. Maybe this is addressed in later books in the series?

ETA: An amusing new review of Outlander. Jamie is rather too perfect as well, now that I think about it.

Book Review Index
Dead Mother: No

Book Review: Victory of Eagles [2008]

[SPOILER ALERT--Don't read this if you want to remain innocent about events in the previous books in the series, particularly Empire of Ivory]

Victory of Eagles, the fifth book in the Temeraire series by Naomi Novik, finds our heroes in dire straits indeed, with Laurence convicted of treason and Temeraire exiled to a boring existence at the breeding grounds in Wales as they wait for Laurence's death sentence to be carried out. And, as a special bonus, Napoleon has finally managed to invade England and occupy London, scattering the British forces and moving far more quickly than anyone anticipates. Despite their treasonous past, Laurence and Temeraire find themselves deeply involved in the organized resistance, struggling to save a nation that does not believe in their right to freedom.

This book is the first in which Novik has given us narrative blocks from Temeraire's perspective, which is something that I missed (retroactively) in the first four books , since his voice is so distinctive and interesting. In addition, it is a relief to have the perspective of the sometimes comical self-organizing dragon militia, campaigning for equal pay, to offset Laurence's depression as he comes to realize that his actions have caused death and destruction; may result in Napoleon's permanent control of the British Isles; and have completely severed him from his comrades, his family, and the country he loves. All that he has left is Temeraire, and the continuing desire to Do The Right Thing, despite sometimes devastating consequences.

Grade: B

Random Thoughts:

Perhaps it was the bleak subject matter, but I found this installment very sad and draining. It is hard not to miss the camaraderie and unity between dragons and crews of the aerial corps and feel that the uncharted territory (in this case, Australia) of future volumes is a bit daunting.

I did not listen to this on audiobook because the audio version didn't make it through interlibrary loan before I ran out of patience and hunkered down to read it on paper. I miss you, Simon Vance!

Dead Mother: No
Book Review Index

Book Reviews: Black Powder War [2006] and Empire of Ivory [2007]

I kept up my rapid progress through the Temeraire series, primarily listening to the third and fourth volumes on audio CD, but also picking up the paper version when the suspense was too much to withstand after leaving the car. This method of consuming books means there is some confusion as to where I am in the audiobook when I return to it, but it definitely cuts down on sitting in the driveway. Black Powder War picks up almost immediately where Throne of Jade left off, with Temeraire and Laurence in China after the untimely death of Prince Yongxing, their role in which has earned them the eternal enmity of his white dragon Lien. As they prepare to return to England, they receive an urgent order to proceed directly to Istanbul [which was Constantinople] to receive three dragon eggs that have been purchased by the crown. Guided by the mysterious and ambivalent Tharkay, Laurence and company make the grueling overland journey from China, encountering desert nomads, feral dragons, and other hazardous roadblocks on the way. Once in Istanbul, however, they find their way barred by bureaucracy, and are forced to abduct the eggs and flee toward safety in Prussia, where they become pressed into a disastrous campaign against Napoleon and his new dragon advisor, Lien.

In Empire of Ivory, Temeraire and Laurence finally return home to discover that a deadly plague has decimated the dragon population, including the members of their formation. Temeraire's strange resistance to the infection leads them back to a place in Africa, where they had paused on their voyage to the Far East. Napoleon threatens, and time is definitely not on their side as dragons sicken and die at home while they search for the cure in the midst of colonial politics and a strange and dangerous community of African dragons. Upon their return, Laurence makes a bitter decision that will alter the course of his life forever.

Grade: B [for Black Powder War, which I felt could have used a little less going from point A to point B and more of Temeraire in general] and B+ [for Empire of Ivory, which was entertaining despite the improbability of returning to Africa to find a single variety of mushroom]

Random Thoughts:

After four books, the series has taken us to Europe, Africa, and Asia, introduced us to a host of dragons, and skillfully interwoven fantastic voyages with battle scenes, Victorian propriety, and (of course) man-dragon love. I call that a job well done.

One of the recurring threads in these books, as with the first two in the series, is the status of dragons in European society and their treatment by most (including the British government) as less-than-sentient beings, when in fact they have the same range of intelligence as men. The favorable situation in China, where dragons live among men without fear (on either part), inspires Temeraire to return to England to create change for his compatriots, beginning with negotiations for pay. Laurence naturally has mixed feelings; he has never been prone to examining why things are done the way they are, he simply accepts the status quo and does his duty. However, when faced with the truth of how dragons are treated at home, he is forced to open his eyes and realize that perhaps he has committed his life to a government whose aims and practices he often does not agree with. This building tension, brought on by Temeraire's incessantly questioning mind, brings him quite logically to the fateful decision at the end of Empire of Ivory. Dragon civil rights!

Simon Vance continues to be an excellent narrator of the audio versions, and I have much appreciated his vocal flexibility as he is called on to perform an ever-greater number of roles in what has become a multi-national cast of thousands.

ETA: Reviews of other books in this series here and here.

Dead Mother: No
Book Review Index

Book Reviews: His Majesty's Dragon [2006] and Throne of Jade [2006]

I've read several books featuring dragons over the years: McCaffrey, Wrede, heck, even those Eragon books, and of course the beloved Dragonlance books of my youth. I eventually got to a point where I felt I had probably read enough dragon books to fill my quota. I admit, I was utterly wrong, possibly even crazy! Thank goodness Naomi Novik had the unexpected and brilliant idea to combine dragons with the general time period of the Napoleonic wars. In the first of the series, His Majesty's Dragon (published as Temeraire in the UK), Novik introduces us to Captain William Laurence, a stiff-necked Navy man who finds himself unexpectedly bound to a dragon hatchling (taken from a French ship) whom he names Temeraire. While this event means the end of his successful naval career, his hopes of marriage, and a fragile peace with his father, Laurence comes to love Temeraire and grows accustomed to his new position as an Aviator in the flying division of the British military, despite their more relaxed approach to life. With the threat of Napoleon's invasion looming from the other side of the channel, Laurence and Temeraire must train quickly to have any hope of performing their duty to defend England's shores.

In the direct sequel, Throne of Jade, Temeraire's provenance as a Chinese dragon (intended as a gift to Napoleon) becomes an issue with national security implications as the Chinese government demands his return, much to Laurence's dismay. Temeraire, Laurence, and their crew set off by sea on a diplomatic mission to China, encountering perils both at sea and on land. Once they reach the Orient, however, they find that dragons are treated as equal to humans in China--and Temeraire has a place among the rarest and most powerful dragons in the land. Will Temeraire and Laurence be parted forever on a foreign shore? [Spoiler alert: There are at least four other books in the series.]

Grade: A

Random Thoughts:

I am going to say the words "man-dragon love" to describe these books without irony or sexual innuendo, because the relationship between Laurence and Temeraire is adorable and loving and definitely the anchor of the series. I love it when they read together! However, Novik also writes well-rounded and (individually and collectively) awesome secondary characters that are a pleasure to encounter in the pages.

I like the way that Novik plays the strict, duty-bound Laurence against the innocent enthusiasm of Temeraire; it leads to a series of interesting discussions between them about property, the state of women, slavery, government, military service . . . Laurence begins to realize that perhaps his blind faith in duty and love of country may be somewhat misplaced.

Aerial battles between dragons, in which they fly in formation and are crewed in an ingenious manner similar to (but totally cooler than) naval ships, are the best thing EVER.

As usual, I listened to these books on audiobook (but then also read them in paperback when I was out of the car and couldn't help myself from finding out what happened next). The narrator of the series, Simon Vance, does an excellent job, especially considering all the accents that he is called on to perform.

Anyone have any other dragon books to recommend, now that my mind has been reopened?

ETA: Reviews of other books in this series here and here.

Dead Mother: No on both counts, YAY!
Book Review Index

Book Review: The Help [2009]

Kathryn Stockett's first novel, The Help, was the sleeper hit of 2009, and still occupies the number two spot on the best-seller lists for hardcover fiction. It still has at least a two-to-one holds ratio in our library system, and it has also been the source of some controversy. Set in Jackson, Mississippi beginning in 1962, the novel revolves around the lives of three characters: one privileged white woman and two black maids. Naive Eugenia "Skeeter" Phelan has just graduated from Ole Miss and wants to be a writer, but so far has only managed to get a job writing the housekeeping column for the local newspaper under an assumed name. Since she doesn't know anything about keeping house, she asks her friend Elizabeth's maid, Aibileen, for assistance, leading to a deeper acquaintance than customary between a white lady and "the help." Aibileen is an older woman who has raised many white children and been deeply wounded each time they grow up to be just like their parents. Aibileen's friend, Minny, is an outspoken maid who manages to get herself fired and earn the enmity of Junior League President Hilly Holbrook at the beginning of the book. Hilly is the undisputed villain of the piece (well, other than the institutionalized racism that she personifies), from her proposal that all white families install separate bathrooms for their help in order to keep free of "colored diseases" to accusing Minny, and then Aibileen, of theft, to her tyrannical rule of what seems to be all of Jackson society. She may, in fact, be a little too irredeemably evil, but she is a character that everyone should love to hate. Despite Hilly's ever-watchful eye, Skeeter and Aibileen embark on a project to publish real stories from the maids of Jackson, including the ugly truth about the white women who employ them. They struggle to find interviewees (beyond the initially reluctant Minny) for a task that could easily get its black participants fired, or much worse; a palpable sense of danger hangs over much of the novel, set as it is in a time of civil unrest. However, at its heart The Help is an uplifting and ultimately optimistic story about how we aren't that different after all.

Grade: A-

Even though it has a great story, the book is perhaps a little too self-conscious about its historical time-period (you can practically hear the signposts being printed in caps lock, like a telegram: MEDGAR EVERS-(STOP)-WOOLWORTH'S COUNTER-(STOP)-MARCH ON WASHINGTON-(STOP)-KENNEDY ASSASSINATION-(STOP)-BOB DYLAN). However, within this broader context there are many small, moving, and weighty moments that make that aspect of Stockett's writing, which I guess I would call obvious contextualizing, negligible.

Now, about the "controversy" that surrounded the book, I must of course say a few words. See reviews here and here that discuss Stockett's use of heavy dialect for her black characters. In this interview, Stockett seems genuinely humble about her attempt to recreate the voices of black women in the 1960s. She actually indicated that she added the character of Skeeter "because she worried that readers wouldn’t trust her if she only wrote about black characters. 'I just didn’t think that would ever be allowed to sit on the shelf,' she said. 'So I threw Skeeter in the mix and I felt a little better about it, because I was showing a white perspective as well.'" HUH? When you're reading the book, it sometimes feels like Skeeter is a less developed and less rich character, and now that makes sense. But we have to ask ourselves why an author felt like she would be crossing such a huge line by writing solely with the voices of black women. If authors only wrote about what they knew first-hand, the selection of books would be pretty uninteresting. Are women not supposed to write from the perspective of male characters, and vice versa? Can straight authors accurately represent the thoughts and feelings of queer characters, or not? Should Stephenie Meyer have confined herself to writing about normal teenagers, because she isn't actually a vampire or a werewolf (hang on a sec, maybe that would actually be a good thing . . . Twilight crazies, I'm kidding! Please don't spam me.)? In a similar vein, if Stockett had chosen not to write Aibileen and Minny's parts using dialect, would their sections of the novel have felt as vibrant? You can't write a romance novel set in Scotland without throwing in some Scottish dialect (even if you're an American). I did, however, agree with the Christian Science Monitor, which wondered why none of the white characters were written with a similarly distinct dialect. My favorite review was actually William Boot's "Do I Have to Read The Help?" (answer: yes):

My only problem with The Help is that, in the end, it’s not really about the help. For all her assurance in sketching out the foibles of the Junior League, Stockett is shakier when it comes to the maids. They never quite come into focus—they’re more useful for what they see rather than who they are.

I'm not sure I entirely agree with him, but perhaps if Stockett hadn't felt the pressure to include a white character in order to get her book "on the shelf," that wouldn't have been the case. In my opinion, the book is stronger because it has both white and black characters, and both perspectives are fully explored.

Random Thoughts:

A friend of mine (whose taste in books I trust implicitly) recommended the book to me by handing me a paper copy, but things being as they always are, I didn't have time to read it before I felt like I'd probably better release that one back out into the wild. As I often do, I ended up listening to the audio version instead, which was narrated by one actress for each main role, as well as a narrator for the strangeness that is Chapter 25 (in which Stockett inserts an omniscient narrator for the first and last time). It's possible that my feelings about the dialect would be stronger if I had seen it on the page, rather than hearing it performed by the two excellent narrators for Aibileen and Minny. Of the three, the "Miss Skeeter" was definitely the weakest link, but I thought that was true of the character as well. The omniscient narrator of the benefit scene was terrible, and clearly had no idea how to speak with a southern accent. The unexpected upside(?) of listening to the book, rather than reading it, was an unconscious desire to adopt a faux-Southern accent.

I literally cannot read or hear the word "Jackson" without thinking about Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash. At least it's a good song. I also found myself humming Chuck Berry's "Maybellene" on numerous occasions as I was getting out of the car.

Especially interesting in context: This article about a black writer's conference. I wonder, do black writers feel like Stockett is co-opting their narrative space? Most of the reviews I found were by white women (like me).


Dead Mother: No, which was actually a surprise
Book Review Index

Book Review: Outlander [1991]

Are you interested in time-traveling historical romance? Do you yearn for the love of a good Scottish clansman? Diana Gabaldon's Outlander may be just the book for you. Despite the fact that it was published in 1991, Outlander feels timeless; it's a brick of a book that unstintingly immerses the reader in the often brutal clan life of 18th century Scotland. Protagonist Claire Randall, a former WWII nurse, is cast back from 1945 to 1743 after an unfortunate encounter with a group of standing stones. Despite being married in the 20th century, Claire becomes involved with dashing outlaw Jamie Fraser, ultimately making the choice (spoiler alert!) to remain with him rather than return to her own time. While there were a few places that Claire seemed to too conveniently forget her husband's existence, one could argue that that was a defense mechanism against her seemingly impossible situation . . . the best feature of the book is its ability to bring up such interesting questions; its worst is perhaps an over-reliance on coincidence (how many times can one reasonably expect to accidentally run into the villain?).

Despite the fact that she is US-born, Gabaldon has as good a grasp of Scots dialect as any historical author, as well as a strong sense of character development, managing to make a veritable host of minor characters strikingly memorable. Gabaldon leaves several questions unanswered: why is Claire able to travel through time? Does she have a larger purpose? Is she able to (or has she already) affect events enough to change her future significantly? A quick look at Fantastic Fiction shows that the book has at least six sequels, so presumably some of these questions will be answered. Finally, I've known for years that my mother enjoyed this series (and I can see why, Outlander was totally up her alley), and it is always nice to read something that I know she's also read.

Grade: A-

Book Review: The Other Boleyn Girl [2001]

Somehow, author Philippa Gregory manages to take one of the Western world's best known stories, give it a new spin, and make it fresh and appealing. The Other Boleyn Girl is told from the perspective of Anne's (possibly) younger sister, Mary, but is ultimately a finely drawn portrait of a group of people that represent a pivotal moment in Europe's secular and religious history. Despite an enormous stable of characters, the reader never feels overwhelmed or bogged down with inconsequential details. The story is entertaining, informative, fast-paced, sweeping, and peppered with delightful period detail. Through her choice of narrator, Gregory manages to create suspense even though most readers will know very well how the story ends (spoiler alert: Anne Boleyn is not spared), and Mary also often serves as her mouthpiece to discuss the lot of noble women in Tudor society. Occasionally, I found it difficult to believe that Mary (who is often portrayed as the less acute sister) embraced such "feminist" notions as caring for her own babies and marrying for love, but overall I found her to be an engaging narrator.

Another interesting character was that of George Boleyn, who might as well have been "the Other Other Boleyn Girl," as his story was heavily intertwined with Anne's and Mary's. Gregory opts to portray him as a repressed homosexual, which, I gather, is not completely popular among historians. True or not, it does add an interesting dimension to the tale of the three siblings, only one of which sees their way through to a complete and loving relationship, and allows Gregory to give a similar weight to George's character. Despite the nuances of her portrayal of the Boleyns, Henry, and Katherine of Aragon, it is the short scenes and minor characters that give the story its depth, such as a scenes in which the courtiers skillfully contrive to lose games played against Henry VII, or labor at embroidering an enormous altar cloth. For me, the most intriguing thing about the book, after more than 700 pages, was its ability to make me so interested in the subject matter that I wanted to find out what was fact and what fiction.

Grade: A

Further Reading:
An interview with Gregory about the book.
Fraser, Antonia. The Wives of Henry VIII
Weir, Alison. The Six Wives of Henry VII.