Review: Gildenford, by Valerie Anand

Pages: 392

Original date of publication: 1977

My edition: 1977 (Charles Scribners Sons)

Why I decided to read: recommendation on Amazon.com

How I acquired my copy: Amazon.com

In 1036, a brutal massacre took place at Gildford, of Alfred the Atheling and his followers by Harold Harefoot, soon after to become King of England. That event, and the events of the thirty years following it, would lead up to one of the seminal moments of English history: the invasion of England by William of Normandy and his followers, in 1066. Gildenford is the story of both sides of the conflict over possession of the crown, with Brand Woodcutter, a retainer of Earl Godwin of Wessex, caught in the crossfire.

This novel is a very strong, real depiction of England in the years leading up to the conquest. Brand is a character to whom I became strongly attached: honorable yet conflicted over the decision he must make. As the novel mentions towards the end, Brand is the kind of person who wants to live his life with a worthy purpose, but nonetheless destined to behave deceptively. It’ll be interesting to see where the Conquest and Duke William take him.

Brand has every reason to hate and enact revenge upon Godwin and the Godwinssons, but he doesn’t, which I think says a lot about the quality of his character. I’ve not read a lot of fiction set in this period, apart from Helen Hollick’s portrayal of Emma in A Hollow Crown, so I was intrigued by this more rounded-out look of the period. In A Hollow Crown, Emma’s the protagonist, and obviously portrayed sympathetically; and she comes off less well in this novel, at least at first.

This is a very strong novel about the effects one person’s (or many people’s) actions have upon many, even many years after the fact. The characters in this novel are very real and believable (Anand toned down Edward the Confessor’s piousness a bit, however). It’ll be interesting to see how the story continues in the next book in the trilogy, The Norman Pretender (in some ways I already know, but that won’t stop me from reading the book). This book is rare and rather hard to find at a reasonable price, but well worth buying if you do.

Review: The Peacock and the Pearl, by Jennifer Lang

Pages: 438

Original date of publication: 1992

My edition: 1992 (St. Martin’s Press)

Why I decided to read: browsing in the library

How I acquired my copy: unacquired, from the library, April 2010

Set between the years of 1371 and 1383, The Peacock and the Pearl is set amongst the guild system of medieval London and against the wider historical backdrop of the period—culminating, in fact, with the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381. Joanne Burgeys, the plain-featured daughter of an ambitious mercer, encounters Sir Tristam de Maudesbury, a retainer knight of John of Gaunt, one day during an apprentice riot. In true romantic tradition, Tristam literally is her knight in shining armor, saving her life. Later, Joanna repays the favor, and by a strange twist of fate, the two marry—although the relationship is pretty much one-sided.

The historical detail of the book is excellent, and the author, who wrote a number of books on the medieval guild system. Everything, especially what people wear, is meticulously described—sometimes ad nauseum.

Apart from the historical veracity of the book however, the rest of the novel pretty much falls apart, because the author isn’t very good at developing believable, interesting characters. Our heroine, Joanna, behaves in some completely idiotic ways, so much so that it made me less inclined to be sympathetic towards her when she got in trouble. Tristam is so obviously a Bad Guy, and he and Joanna are so obviously ill-suited for one another, that I just didn’t care in the end what happened to either of them. Joanna’s sister comes across as a shallow idiot, and Black Nick’s character does such a large 180 about halfway through the book that it just wasn’t believable.

It’s clear that the plot was somewhat influenced by medieval romances, but I just wasn’t absorbed in this one. The author’s writing style is very good, and as I’ve mentioned, the historical bits are wonderful, but I just wasn’t all that involved in the story or the lives of the characters, who sometimes seemed like modern people dressed in period clothes.

Teaser Tuesdays

Teaser Tuesday asks you to:

--Grab your current read

--Let the book open to a random page

--Share with us two (2) “teaser” sentences from that page, somewhere between lines 7 and 12

--You also need to share the title of the book that you’re getting your “teaser” from—that way people can have some great recommendations if hey like the teaser you’re given!

“The king’s fingers stiffened, losing their grip. His vision tricked him, showed him only a random swirl of water and moonlight, the furling of a horse’s mane, an arm suddenly thrust up into the air.”

--From Jerusalem, by Cecelia Holland

Cover Deja-Vu #23

Two more for you: the one cover is that of Miss Bunting, by Agnes Thirkell, one of the books in her long-running Barsetshire series; and the other is that of the Penguin edition of Madame Bovary.

Persephone Reading Week: May 3rd-May 9th

I’m a bit slow jumping on this bandwagon, but I’ve recently learned that Verity at The B Files and Claire at Paperback Reader will be hosting a Persephone Reading Week from May 3^rd through May 9^th. There aren’t any rules; all you need to do is read at least one Persephone.

So far I’ve read twelve Persephones, and I have five more unread on my shelves: The Young Pretenders, A London Child of the 1870s, William: An Englishman, High Wages, and They Were Sisters. At some point in the next week or two I should be receiving my May book (title TBD). Plus I’ve also ordered the two new ones, Still Missing, by Beth Gutcheon, and Dimanche and Other Stories, by Irene Nemirovsky. These last three might not make it here in time for PRW, though... I obviously won’t get to reading all of my choices during that week, but I’ll definitely have a number of options to keep me occupied!

The Sunday Salon

OK, remember how I said that I was going to cut down on my book buying? Well, that went straight out the window yesterday when I went to my library’s paperback book sale and brought home the following:

The Last Templar, by Michael Jecks (first in the Knights Templar series)

Death in Zanzibar, by MM Kaye. One of Kaye’s mysteries.

A Prologue to Love, by Taylor Caldwell (not sure it it’s historical fiction or what, but the description on the back of the book looked good)

Lion of Ireland, by Morgan Llewellyn (the cover of my edition of this is unbelievably, wonderfully tacky). A novel about Brian Boru, the 10^th century Irish king.

The King’s Bishop, by Candace Robb (since I’ve read the first three books in this series, finding the fourth at the sale was perfect)

This brings my collection of owned by unread books up to 83. Basically, I’ve got enough to read from my own collection until the end of the year.! It seems as though I acquire books faster than I actually read them. So as for what I actually read this week:

My Fair Lazy, by Jen Lancaster

The Brothers of Gwynedd Quartet (the for book, Sunrise in the West), by Edith Pargeter

The Campaigners, by Cynthia Harrod Eagles

So, that’s about it… it’s been a quiet weekend around here…

Review: The Expendable Man, by Dorothy Hughes

Pages: 339

Original date of publication (1963)

My edition: 2006 (Persephone books)

Why I decided to read: browsing on Persephone’s website

How I acquired my copy: Persephone bookshop, Lambs Conduit Street London, September 2009

In The Expendable Man, Hugh Densmore is a young intern doctor who travels from his hospital in LA to Phoenix to attend a relative’s wedding. On his way there, he picks up a young, teenage hitchhiker, who later ends up dead in Scottsdale. As you might expect, the subject of the novel, and its tone, is extremely dark and gritty—almost bleakly so. Coupled with descriptions of the heat of the desert, Arizona is therefore a perfect place to set this novel, which also addresses larger social and racial themes—think a Patricia Highsmith plot paired with a Harper Lee message, although less skillfully done.

The “wrong man accused” plot is common in fiction, but Dorothy Hughes breathes new light into it with a stunning twist about a third of the way through. It’s an especially incredible twist considering that this novel takes place only a few years after the civil rights movement. In some ways I wish that the twist had been revealed a little bit earlier, however. Also, I’m not so sure that people would have been so impervious to issues of race so soon after the civil rights movement. But the impact of what happens is absolutely stunning nonetheless.

Hughes is also skilled at writing about the Arizona landscape—though I wish she’d written more about the wildlife (where are the coyotes? Bobcats? Javelinas? Scorpions? The latter would have made for great symbolism in this novel). Still, Dorothy Hughes knew the Phoenix/Scottsdale area quite well, and describes it in minute detail, right down to specific establishments on specific streets. Hughes keeps saying how isolated the Arizona landscape is, so it’s amazing to think how much the area must have been developed since then. The Expendable Man perhaps isn’t my favorite of the books that Persephone has reprinted, but it’s an extremely atmospheric thriller that I enjoyed a lot.

This is Persephone #68.

Friday Finds

I haven’t done this in a while! As opposed to talking about books I’ve heard of, I thought I’d focus on the books I’ve bought and ARCs that have come into the house so far this month. I’m really trying to keep my book buying to a minimum, but it’s tough! I seem to be acquiring them faster than I read them.

Claude and Camille, by Stephanie Cowell. One of my April books from Amazon Vine.

Shadow Princess, by Indu Sundaresan. A novel set in 17^th century India; another Vine book.

The Outcast, by Cynthia Harrod-Eagles. Bought online yesterday; the 21^st book in the Morland Dynasty series.

Airs Above the Ground and Thunder on the Right, by Mary Stewart. I got in the mood to read more of her novels, and these are the only two I didn’t own before.

Clouds of Witness and The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club, by Dorothy Sayers. Another author I’ve been itching to read more of recently.

Green Dragon, White Tiger, by Annette Motley. A novel set in 7^th century China.

Jorvik, by Sheelagh Kelly. A novel set in 11^th century York, pre-Conquest; I heard about this from Elizabeth Chadwick over at HFO, and since she and I seem to share similar reading tastes, I thought I’d try this one out.

Legacy, by Susan Kay. I borrowed this from the library, read a few pages, and decided that I’d rather own my own copy.

On the Night of the Seventh Moon, by Victoria Holt. More Gothic romance.

Into the Wilderness, by Sara Donati. Bought this with a gift card at Barnes and Noble at the beginning of the month.

High Wages, by Dorothy Whipple. My Persephone book for April. I was very excited to receive this in the mail, as I do love Dorothy Whipple’s novels (haven’t read any of her stories apart from the one that was published in the Persephone Biannually last fall).

Review: Paths of Exile, by Carla Nayland

Pages: 221

Original date of publication: 2009

My edition: 2009 (Quaestor)

Why I decided to read: it’s April’s book of the month on HFO (follow the discussion here)

How I acquired my copy: Amazon.com

There’s a dearth of novels based on the early middle ages—probably because it’s such a hard period to research and then recreate. Very little is known about England prior to the Viking invasions, but Carla Nayland’s wonderful novel about early 7^th century Eboracum (York) and Deira (Yorkshire) successfully fills the gap nicely.

This is the story of Eadwine, a prince of Deira whose lands are invaded and conquered by Aetheferth, king of a neighboring tribe. After a devastating battle, Eadwine goes into exile with some of his followers. They stop at a farmhouse occupied by three women, one of whom is Severa, a healing woman of sorts and their leader. Most of the story follows Eadwine, biding his time as he waits for the opportunity to reclaim his lands and betrothed (who has a surprise waiting for him at home). Meanwhile, there’s a fair bit of tension going on between Eadwine and Severa…

This is an excellent book that effortlessly combines fiction with the relatively little that’s known about this period in English history. Therefore, recreating this period must have been challenging for the author, but you wouldn’t know it from reading this novel. According to the author’s note at the end, Eadwine and many of the other major characters are based up real people (Nayland used Bede’s account of the 7^th century as the basis for her research); and apparently, this is only the beginning of the story. In fact, the ending of this book leads me to hope that there will be a sequel.

The author is especially skilled at dialogue, and developing her characters, although this book takes place over a short period of time. The characters too are very believable; each (with the exception of Severa, who seems a bit too perfect sometimes), is fallible. It’s because of people’s faults (and strength) that a reader gets emotionally invested in a story, and that’s especially true of the characters in the novels, who seem as though they lived and breathed yesterday and not 1400 years ago! Highly recommended if you’re looking for an excellent novel about the early middle ages. Of note, however, the font size in this edition is very tiny.

Review: My Brother Michael, by Mary Stewart

Pages: 386

Original date of publication: 1959

My edition: 2001 (HarperTorch)

Why I decided to read: I enjoy reading Mary Stewart’s novels

How I acquired my copy: came across it browsing in a local bookstore, June 2009

This is the seventh of Mary Stewart’s novels that I’ve read, and I’ve noticed that they tend to be a bit formulaic. There’s always a young Englishwoman who’s experienced disappointment in love, who goes to an exotic location to recuperate. While there, she usually finds herself in the midst of a mystery, usually risking her own life. And, of course, there’s the handsome stranger, with whom there’s a romantic subplot.

My Brother Michael follows this ploline to a T. Camilla Haven travels to Athens, Greece. In the middle of writing a letter to a friend, in which she complains that nothing ever happens to her, Camilla is offered the use of a car. She takes the car to Delphi, in lieu of the girl—“Simon’s Girl—it’s meant for—and finds herself involved in a fourteen-year-old mystery. Camilla is a pretty average girl (who calls herself “old” at 25!) who nonetheless shows great courage and fortitude—not unlike some of Mary Stewart’s other heroines.

OK, so the plot, and its romantic subplot, are pretty predictable—but it’s a formula that really works well. Mary Stewart was adept at creating great atmosphere in her novels, and she did a lot of research on the places in which her books are set. She also describes everything in great detail, which I love. The romance story in My Brother Michael is a bit rushed (although, obviously, you can see it coming from a mile away).

However, the suspense in this novel is absolutely top notch—how can you forget that climactic scene in the caves? And Camilla and Simon’s walk in the ruins of Delphi earlier is a prime example of why I love Mary Stewart’s writing—again-she really knows how to write atmospheric novels! My Brother Michael probably isn’t my favorite of Stewart’s books, since it tends to meander a bit, but I did enjoy it quite a lot.

Teaser Tuesdays

Teaser Tuesday asks you to:

--Grab your current read

--Let the book open to a random page

--Share with us two (2) “teaser” sentences from that page, somewhere between lines 7 and 12

--You also need to share the title of the book that you’re getting your “teaser” from—that way people can have some great recommendations if hey like the teaser you’re given!

“Doubtless King Henry was also spared a considerable expense once they were gone from his court, and that was some relief to him, for he had difficulties of his own with his council and magnates over his expenditure, and to be able to point to one economy was was at least a step in conciliating them. So in all it suited everyone, although I am sure the lady Senena felt pain by then in any upheaval in her life, and suffered doubts and depressions of which no one else knew, unless it might be Bishop Richard of Bangor, who accompanied the royal party on their journey, making one of his rare visits to his see.”

--From The Brothers of Gwynedd, by Edith Pargeter

Review: The Marsh King's Daughter, by Elizabeth Chadwick

Pages: 406
Original date of publication: 1999
My edition: 2006 (Sphere)
Why I decided to read: it’s Elizabeth Chadwick; what else can I say?
How I acquired my copy: Waterstone’s bookshop, Piccadilly, London, September 2009

Miriel is an unruly, headstrong girl, whose stepfather places her in the convent of St. Catherine. While there, she comes into contact with Nicholas de Caen, a rebel against King John. While still a prisoner, Nicholas rescues John’s infamous treasure from the swamp, and attempts to run away—accidentally (or not) taking Miriel with him. Their adventures, together and apart, take place over the course of about five years, as hate eventually turns to love.

It’s true that Elizabeth Chadwick’s books, especially those about fictional characters, tend to follow a certain pattern: two would-be lovers are torn asunder by circumstances beyond their control, and they must battle against the odds to eventually return to one another. The main female character usually is very headstrong., and there’s often a nails-on-a-chalkboard bad guy thrown in to complicate the plot. The Marsh King’s Daughter is a little different, however; the excitement in this book lies in the fact that Nicholas and Miriel don’t know that they’re attracted to one another—in fact, they have every reason to hate the other! So it’s this tension that gives the novel that extra excitement. I’ve described Elizabeth Chadwick’s heroines as headstrong, which usually equates to modern; not so with Chadwick’s female characters. I never get the feeling that Miriel, or even Nicholas or the other characters, never stepped out of the thirteenth century.

Elizabeth Chadwick is also extraordinarily skilled at recreating the feel of the thirteenth century. She’s mostly known for her novels about the twelfth century, but she depicts this period of time just as well as she does the other. With Chadwick’s novels, you’re guaranteed a historically accurate read, without being bogged down in too much overwhelming detail. There’s only so much that anyone can really know” about people or places from 700 years ago, but Elizabeth Chadwick really knows how to pull the pieces together. In all, this is another good, solid novel from Elizabeth Chadwick. I’ve only got four novels left of hers to read (including the forthcoming To Defy a King) and I’m really trying to parcel them out!

The Sunday Salon

I’ve spent most of my Sunday on the couch (what else is new?) watching Ugly Betty. Since the Very Last Episode Ever was recently aired on TV, I’ve been watching past seasons of the show on DVD—I’ve reached the beginning of the second season. (why did I never noticed the subliminal similarities between it and Sex and the City before?).

I also managed to get in a bit of reading this weekend—I finished Valerie Anand’s Gildenford, a novel about the events leading up to the Conquest. I finished, nearly in one sitting, a review copy of Jen Lancaster’s My Fair Lazy, which will be coming out at the beginning of May. This one’s about her addiction to reality TV, and how she essentially got up off her ass to experience real culture for a change. Very funny, as you might expect from Lancaster’s books—and much better, in my opinion, than her last. As part of her “cultural Jenaissance,” she attempted to read or re-read the classics, including Aldous Huxley. There’s a great story in there about her trying to find a “novel written by a woman whose initials are E.W.,” picking up Edith Wharton, and realizing that she meant to ask for Evelyn Waugh instead… never mind that Waugh was a man!

Also read this week were The Confessions of Catherine de Medici, by March LTER book; and The Royal Griffin, by Juliet Dymoke. I just began reading a review copy of the reprint of The Brothers of Gwynedd Quartet, which I’m reading for a sort of book club that the publicist at Sourcebooks organized. It’s rather dense, but very good. I’m glad that the read-a-thon has been divided into section, otherwise, I don’t know if I’d have the courage to finish it!

I did a bit of book buying, too. I bought the two Mary Stewart books I don’t own (Thunder on the Right and Airs Above the Ground); and I was in the mood for some more Dorothy Sayers, so I bought Clouds of Witness and The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club, as well as dusting off my copy of Unnatural Death, which I’ve owned for ages but not actually read yet. For some reason I associate Mary Stewart and Dorothy Sayers's books with spring and summer reading, so this will be perfect. In 2008 around that time of year I went on a Dorothy Sayers kick, where I read Murder Must Advertise, Whose Body?, and The Nine Tailors. Somehow, while folding laundry this afternoon, I suddenly got the urge to read more Lord Peter Wimsey! Do you ever get weird urges to read or re-read books at the most inappropriate times?

Review: High Rising, by Angela Thirkell

Pages: 233

Original date of publication: 1933

My edition: 2009 (Moyer and Bell)

Why I decided to read: heard about this book through the Persephone discussion board on LibraryThing

How I acquired my copy: Amazon.com, February 2010

High Rising is the first in a very long (31 books) series about the fictional place of Barsetshire, modeled on Trollope’s books. High Rising is the story of Laura Morland, a widow and mother who is also the author of ‘good bad books.” It follows Laura’s story over the course of roughly a year, as she manages her career and boisterous youngest son, Tony, and witnesses the foibles of the town of High Rising and its environs.

The story itself is was good enough for me to read to the end, but I do feel as though Angela Thirkell doesn’t quite have the comedic touch of DE Stevenson, or a knack for subtlety that Barbara Pym does. However, Thirkell is good at making her characters seem real, and immersing her readers in the world of Barsetshire. Laura Morland is a charming character, with her hair that’s constantly falling out of its pins when she’s consternated (which is often), or her fondness for lurid thrillers with titles such as The Winding Sheet of Blood. Equally well-defined is Laura’s train-obsessed son; or Laura’s pedantic neighbor, Gorge Knox, a writer himself. Angela Thirkell writes with her own unique, wry style of writing, and I enjoyed reading about the people she wrote about.

She’s less skilled, however, at describing Barsetshire; but having not read Trollope’s books, maybe I’m at a disadvantage here? As far as plot goes, not much “happens,” but I loved the simple intrigues of her characters and the way that, in the end, everything works out happily. I have to say, though, that this particular edition is awful; grammatical errors abound, which sometimes got in the way of my enjoyment of the novel. Still, I hope that this is a fluke, and these errors will be ironed out before subsequent editions will be published. Also, the descriptions of some of the other books in the series, at the end of this book, are terrible; the writer even gets the order of them wrong. In all, though, this is a good book, and I look forward to seeing what happens next.

Review: A Corpse at St. Andrews Chapel, by Melvin Starr

Pages: 34

Original date of publication: 2009

My edition: 2010 (Monarch Books)

Why I decided to read: I read the first book in the series in January

How I acquired my copy: LTER, February 2010

A Corpse at St. Andrew’s Chapel is the second tale (or chronicle) of Hugh de Singleton, a surgeon and bailiff who also solves mysteries in the town of Bampton. This time, a beadle has been found dead near St. Andrew’s Chapel, his throat brutally slashed. Everyone assumes that a wolf has killed him; but on the other hand, maybe it was murder?

Since I’ve read the first two installments in this series, I’ll start with the obvious comparisons. Hugh is an engaging hero, likeable despite his self-confessed vanity regarding his talents. In the second book, the author manages to keep Hugh in character, while still having him develop as a person. The mystery itself is a bit pedestrian, but everything wraps up well in the end. As in the first novel in the series, Starr makes Wycliff a character, but he doesn’t add much to the plot of the book other than to help Hugh with his deductions.

Where the author really excels, however, is in period detail, as well as the details of medieval surgery. There’s less of it here in this book than in The Unquiet Bones, however, but that actually added to my enjoyment of the book. In all, this is a better book than the first in the series, though the mystery itself takes the backseat sometimes.

Teaser Tuesdays

Teaser Tuesday asks you to:

--Grab your current read

--Let the book open to a random page

--Share with us two (2) “teaser” sentences from that page, somewhere between lines 7 and 12

--You also need to share the title of the book that you’re getting your “teaser” from—that way people can have some great recommendations if hey like the teaser you’re given!

“To Dr. Pare’s astonishment, Nostradamus cured Henri’s leg wound with a simple plaster of mint and mold. He then drew our children’s horoscopes.”

--From The Confessions of Catherine de Medici, by CW Gortner

Review: Spooky Little Girl, by Laurie Notaro

Pages: 304

Original date of publication: 2010

My edition: 2010 (Villard)

Why I decided to read: I’ve enjoyed Laurie Notaro’s books of essays before

How I acquired my copy: Review copy from Amazon Vine

I’ve noticed a thing about Laurie Notaro’s books. Her collections of essays tend to be better than her fiction is. Spooky Little Girl is a novel about a woman named Lucy, who goes on vacation and returns to find out that her fiancée has mysteriously dumped her and thrown her stuff out on the lawn, and that she’s lost her job. Lucy drives up to Flagstaff to visit her sister, and gets hit by a bus. She later finds herself as a ghost, in “ghost school,” and later haunting the last place she ever wanted to be in. Why has her fiancée dumped her? And why did nobody attend her funeral?

The idea isn’t so original—it borrows a bit from the movie Ghost (in fact the ghosts even watch the movie while in school). Notaro even borrows from herself—I’m pretty sure that Ruby Spicer is a name she’d recycled from her previous novel. And yet, this book was creative, in a quirky kind of way. The idea of ghosts going to school in order to learn how to properly haunt especially interested me (especially to think that Bloody Mary and Anne Boleyn are ghosts who maybe didn’t reach their full potential!). The novel is very funny in places, but Notaro’s fiction just isn’t as well written as her nonfiction is. I can’t wait to read her next collection of essays.

The Sunday Salon

A very quiet Sunday here, as usual. Didn’t participate in the Readathon, but I was watching from the sidelines. I even did a little bit of reading this weekend: I finished The Royal Griffin, the second in Juliet Dymoke’s series about the Plantagenet family (this one's about Eleanor, daughter to King John and sister to Henry III, and wife of Simon de Montfort). I was also lucky enough to receive a review copy of The Confessions of Catherine de Medici, by CW Gorter, and I’m about 30 pages into it. It’s very good; certainly much better than Jeanne Kalogridis’s novel on Catherine that was published last summer.

Also read this week were Spooky Little Girl, by Laurie Notaro (coming out this week; review TBP on Tuesday) and The Peacock and the Pearl, by Jennifer Lang, a library book I picked up last weekend. My rating for both books was a 3.5; likeable, but not books for my favorites shelf. I definitely think that Laurie Notato’s nonfiction is better than her fiction. Right now I’m trying to catch up on a few reviews. So, not much going on here.

How was your week?

Review: The Lady Tree, by Christie Dickason

Pages: 535

Original date of publication: 1993

My edition: 1999 (Harper Collins)

Why I decided to read: I read two of Christie Dickason’s other novels last year and was intrigued by the subject matter of this one.

How I acquired my copy: Foyles Bookshop, London, September 2009

It’s 1636, and Amsterdam is in a speculating frenzy—over tulips. John Nightingale is an English naturalist with a Past who is hired to speculate in the tulip trade by the very person he’s trying to run away from. It’s a game that’s not simply a game to many, and John often finds himself fearing for his own life. Added on top of that is the fact that he finds himself attracted to both the sister of an investor and his own cousin’s wife, and John indeed is in a bind.

This is the third book by Christie Dickason that I’ve read, and I’ve noticed that she has an unusual writing style—which can sometimes help her, sometimes harm. I’m not quite sure why the book is titled The Lady Tree, considering the tree in question has so little to do with the plot. Dickason has definitely done her research on the period, but I felt that 17^th century Amsterdam pales in comparison to her depictions of England—when, in fact, it should be the other way around. Still, I was engaged by the author’s descriptions of the tulip trading business (which still goes a bit over my head, I’m afraid, despite having studied it in a course for college!).

Dickason is also skilled at character development, though I felt that Harry’s actions at the end of the book weren’t totally believable. Still, this is a very enjoyable piece of fiction. In comparison to other “Tulipmania” novels that I’ve read, this one is by far the best.

Review: The Far Cry, by Emma Smith

Pages: 324

Original date of publication: 1949

My edition: 2007 (Persephone)

Why I decided to read: It’s been on my TBR pile since I purchased it six months ago

How I acquired my copy: from the Persephone shop, September 2009

The Far Cry was inspired by the author’s experiences in India. In 1945, at the age of 21, Emma Smith (who describes herself as “a green young woman” in her preface to this edition) traveled to India with a film production crew as a junior script writer/gopher. While she was there, Smith kept a journal of her experiences and thoughts to detail her “magical Cinderella-like transformation” into a worldlier person. In the preface of the novel, Emma Smith writes brilliantly about what kind of impact her travels to India had upon her, a first-time visitor. What she wrote in her journal went largely into the writing of this novel; and the stronger it is for it, I think, because this is an absolutely stunning book.

When Mr. Digby’s ex wife returns from America, he’s absolutely certain that she’s coming to take their daughter, Teresa, away from him; and so he pulls her out of school in order to go to India, where Mr. Digby’s other daughter from a previous marriage, Ruth, lives with her husband. The novel’s progress takes its reader on the boat journey out to India; to Bombay; to Calcutta; and then, finally, to Assam near the Naga hills, where Ruth’s husband, Edwin, is a tea planter.

My goodness, what a gorgeous book! I’ve never been to India, but this novel certainly makes me want to go. The people and places of India are described in painstaking detail, as only a first-time visitor to India could describe it. They’re probably some of the best descriptions of India written by a Westerner that I’ve ever read (Emma Smith is right up there with MM Kaye in that respect, though they wrote about different time periods and people). In a sense, though, The Far Cry is a novel not so much about India as it is about India as it's experienced by the British.

Emma Smith is especially skilled at describing various foreigners’ experiences in India: Ruth and Edwin, who have lived in India for a while and are sort of immune to the place; Teresa, experiencing the angst that comes with adolescence; and the downright boorish Mr. Digby, who imagines something greater for himself than life has given him. The novel is populated with a number of other, minor characters as well: the elderly yet intrepid Miss Spooner; Richard, Edwin’s second-in-command; or Mr. Littleton, who believes implicitly in the superiority of the British over the natives. There’s also Sam, an Indian fellow whose happy complacency instantly warms the reader’s heart. There are a couple of unlikely coincidences in this novel (i.e., running into Miss Spooner by chance in Calcutta, of all the people you could run into in a city of that size), but other than that, I absolutely adored this novel.

This is Persephone no. 33. Endpaper below.

Teaser Tuesdays

Teaser Tuesdays asks you to:

--Grab your current read

--Let the book open to a random page.

--Share with us two (2) “teaser” sentences from that page, somewhere between lines 7 and 12.

--You also need to share the title of the book that you’re getting your “teaser” from… that way people can have some great book recommendations if they like the teaser you’ve given!

“Joanne entered the chamber at the top of the west turret prepared to stand no nonsense. William’s fear had been palpable and Joanna did not relish the thought of being left alone on the manor with a bedridden woman and the surly serfs to face whatever danger was brewing.”

--From The Peacock and the Pearl, by Jennifer Lang

Review: The Queen's Pawn, by Christy English

Pages: 378

Original date of publication: 2010

My edition: 2010 (NAL)

Why I decided to read: heard about it through HFO

How I acquired my copy: review copy from the publisher, March 2010

The Queen’s Pawn is a novel about Alais, Princess of France, who was betrothed to Richard Plantagenet. She went to England at a young age, and was raised in the court of Eleanor of Aquitaine. Later she (supposedly) had an affair with Henry II. In this novel, the author also posits that it was Alais who seduced Henry so that she could become Queen herself.

It seems to me that it must be a challenge to write a novel about Alais. She grew up in one of the most well-known royal courts in the world, yet there’s not much that’s known about her. Several authors have tried to write her story (including Judith Koll Healey, who write a couple of mysteries featuring Alais), and, unfortunately, I’m still looking for a really good novel about her. Thus one just didn’t do it for me completely, I’m afraid—Christy English certainly isn’t in the league of say, Sharon Kay Penman or Elizabeth Chadwick. But who can be? Maybe my standards are too high.

I think the problem became apparent in the author’s Afterward: she’s clearly one of those authors who think of history as having happened, instead of happening; of thinking of her characters as having lived as opposed to living, breathing people. It’s because of this that her characters seem a bit stagnant; even these well-known historical figures don’t quite leap off the page for me. Christy English describes the Plantagenet court very well, but it also seems, at times, at bit modern and sterile for me. And the historical backdrop of the novel, fascinating unto itself, takes a back seat to the romance side of it. Also be forewarned that there’s a lot of sex in this book. A lot. I wouldn’t say I’m particularly squeamish about sex in fiction, but I felt that the sex in this novel really didn’t add much to the plot; so much so that after a few times, I found myself thinking, “OK, I get it, can we move on now?”

Personally, I also didn’t really believe parts of the plot—that it was Alais who seduced Henry, for example. And Alais’s decision at the end of the book seemed far too sudden for me to totally buy it. Add on top of that the overwhelming chess metaphors, and it got to be a bit too much in places for me. Still, I thought the author wrote from the point of view of Eleanor very well, and there are some beautiful descriptive passages here and there. They seem to eat an awful lot of squab in this novel, don't they?

Review: Mistress of Rome, by Kate Quinn

Pages:
Original date of publication: 2010
My edition: 2010 (Berkley)
Why I decided to read: the publisher offered me a review copy:
How I acquired m copy: ditto, March 2010

Mistress of Rome is a story that’s focused on three characters: Thea, a Jewish slave; her mistress, Lepida Polllia; and Arius, a Briton gladiator. These characters live and interact with one another in late first-century Rome, during the reign of Emperor Domitian. Quinn describes in vivid detail (sometimes too vivid!) the brutality of Rome, as well as, maybe, its softer side.

The book is pretty well researched, and the author has a good feel for description. However, there were a lot of things I didn’t like about this book: namely, the switch between first and third person narration, as other reviewers have mentioned. It wouldn’t bother me so much except for the fact that the switch between the tenses would sometimes occur in the middle of chapters, with only a break between paragraphs to make the transition. It didn’t really work for me.

SPOILER ALERT BELOW:

There are also some problems with the plot. Although I felt that the book moved at a fast pace, and the book was compelling enough to keep me reading, there were some plot holes. For example, since Thea could see the resemblance between Arius and Vix, why didn’t the two of them realize the connection? Why didn’t anyone else find out? If Domitian had such a great spy network, and knew so much about her relationship with Arius, why didn’t he know about Vix? Or about her childhood? It just didn’t add up. I also didn’t quite buy that fact that Thea and Lepida would suddenly fall in love/lust with the gladiator, with little to no contact with him beforehand. There are also a number of highly unlikely coincidences, in which the main characters are constantly running into one another by accident. Add to that a completely unlikely and improbably plot twist about ¾ of the way through, and I found myself scratching my head at times as I read.

I also had problems with some of the characters. I think the problem lies in the fact that they’re either way to good or way to bad—there’s no in the middle with anyone of them. As a result, good characters such as Thea became tiresome after a while, as did really bad characters such as Lepida. There’s very little to no character development with any of the main or lesser characters; in fact, Lepida’s “voice” at age 14 is more or less the same as when she’s in her 20s! It wasn’t believable to me.

However, I think the author’s writing style is very good, and the historical bits are very good (apart from a nitpicking thing where she doesn’t use the proper Latin plural forms for certain nouns such as stola; and the author selectively uses Latin names for places such as Brittania and Gaul, but not for, say, Spain). Kate Quinn shows a lot of promise as an author; I just didn’t love her first novel.

Cover Deja-Vu #22

I came across these while i was cataloguing my mom's library on LT (she's really into art-themed books, having been an art history major in college). The image is, of course, John Singer Sargent's famous painting, Portrait of Madame X. The image of the left is the cover of I Am Madame X (might be good if you're participating in the A to Z challange and need an X title), by Gioia Diliberto (a fictional memoir of the woman behind the painting); and the cover on the right is that of Strapless, by Deborah Davis (a nonfiction version of the same).

The Sunday Salon

Happy Easter, folks!

I spent this past week catching up on work after going on vacation—who knew that I would have so much to do? I enjoyed my vacation, but I also felt weirdly glad to be back at work. I did yoga for the first time in my life (the type where you hold poses for ungodly amounts of time), and then last Sunday I went horse back riding, and worked out immediately afterwards. As a result, the muscles in my back hurt for a couple of days! But now everything is back to normal.

I guess, since this is the first Sunday in April, I should do a reading wrap-up. I read an astonishing 15 books this month, so nearly one for every two days of the month! The books:

The Love Knot, by Vanessa Alexander

The Marsh King’s Daughter, by Elizabeth Chadwick

The Creation of Eve, by Lynn Cullen

Of the Ring of Earls, by Juliet Dymoke

The Lady Tree, by Christie Dickason

The Queen’s Pawn, by Christy English

31 Bond Street, by Ellen Horan

Paths of Exile, by Carla Nayland

Fitzempress’ Law, by Diana Norman

Miss Marjoribanks, by Margaret Oliphant

Hester, by Paula Reed

The Far Cry, by Emma Smith

A Corpse at St. Andrew’s Chapel, by Melvin Starr

My Brother Michael, by Mary Stewart

High Rising, by Angela Thirkell

I read a lot of really great books this month, especially the Vanessa Alexander and The Far Cry. The Marsh King’s Daughter was also excellent, as was High Rising (though the edition I read was truly dreadful, more on that when my review of it is published) and Paths of Exile.

Other books I’ve been reading lately are an ARC of Mistress of Rome, by Kate Quinn; and review copies of Confessions of Catherine de Medici, Every Last One, and Spooky Little Girl have showed up within the past week or so. Even though the latter two are to be published next week, and I’m just dying to read CW’s new book, I’m reading something that’s been on my TBR pile for a long time: The Expendable Man, by Dorothy Hughes, a contemporary (1960s) novel about a young intern doctor who picks up a hitchhiking teenager on the road to Phoenix. When she’s later murdered, he’s the first suspect I’d brought this to Arizona with me on vacation, but my eyes were too big for my stomach, and I just didn’t get around to it! I’m only about 100 pages into the book so far, and it’s very atmospheric, redolent of something that Patricia Highsmith would have written except maybe not so polished.

Yesterday I also picked up couple of books at the library: The Peacock and the Pearl, by Jennifer Lang, a novel about late-14^th century England; and Down the Common, by Ann Baer, a novel about a year in the life of a medieval peasant woman that was recommended to me through Library Thing. Recently I also bought a copy of Annette Motley's Green Dragon White Tiger, a novel about 7th century China, Susan Kay's Legacy, and Jorvik, by Sheelagh Kelly, a novel about Viking-era York. So I’ve got tons and tons of good-looking books to read; the trouble is finding time to read them all!

Review: Miss Marjoribanks, by Margaret Oliphant

Pages: 547 (with index and notes)
Original date of publication: 1866
My edition: 1998 (Penguin Classics edition)
Why I decided to read: It’s been on my TBR list for ages
How I acquired my copy: through Amazon with a gift card, September 2009

Miss Marjoribanks is the story of Lucilla Marjoribanks, a young woman who endeavors to improve the social life of the town of Carlingford and “be a comfort to [her] dear papa.” Lucilla admits freely that she has no sense of humor; but at the same time she has an infallible desire to organize things to her own satisfaction. Whether she’s choosing draperies (to match her own complexion, of course), arranging her neighbors’ marriages, or electioneering, Lucilla is an spirited woman who inevitably learns that she “had to undergo the mortification of finding out that many of her most able efforts turned to other people’s profit and went directly against herself.” This book is not only a story of Lucilla, but the middle-class town she lives in, filled with people who have social and professional ambitions.

What I love about Margaret Oliphant’s writing is that she really knows and understands her characters’ thoughts and motivations. Lucilla could easily turn into a easily-disliked character, except for the fact that her flaws are what make her so lovable. This novel is intended to be a satire; how I laughed when in all seriousness Lucilla says, at age nineteenth, that she will have begun to “go off” at age 29! And Lucilla isn’t the only character who is so well-defined; the other young ladies and gentlemen of Carlingford easily leap off the page. Margaret Oliphant’s writing style is easily readable, even for modern readers. It’s a long book, and there are some parts in the middle where the action starts to flag; but in all this is a wonderful novel, containing as it does wonderful characters and writing—as well as a little mystery involving mistaken identities.

By the way—tomorrow is Margaret Oliphant’s birthday—she’d be 182!

Review: Hester, by Paula Reed

Pages: 320
Original date of publication: 2010
My edition: 2010 (St. Martin's Press)
Why I decided to read: I won this through LTER
How I acquired my copy: mine from LTER never arrived, so I borrowed from the library instead, March 2010

Hester is the continued story of Hester Prynne, flawed heroine of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s classic novel. In this novel, which takes place roughly between the years of 1649 and 1660, Hester moves back to England, where she comes to the attention of Oliver Cromwell, who appreciates her for a certain talent she has: the ability to instantly see a person’s sins just by looking at them, a talent (or curse, depending on how you look at it) she acquired as a result of committing her own sins.

The novel has a lot of ground to cover, seeing as it takes the reader through the Protectorate of Cromwell and just beyond. What I didn’t particularly care for is that things happen rather quickly here. Hester strikes me as being a very strong woman, but also as someone who flips loyalties rather quickly, at the smallest sign of trouble. I never really understood her motives for switching so easily, or why she seemed unperturbed by it.

I also didn’t really “buy” the premise of the book, which I’ve discussed above—but seeing as the whole plot hinges on Hester’s abilities, you really have to suspend your sense of disbelief at the whole thing. Hester’s weird “sight” was especially unbelievable to me, as is the idea that she would be connected to Oliver Cromwell in the first place—and the book gets even more unbelievable from there, especially when Hester and Pearl are abroad. Despite my reservations about the book, however, I think that Paula Reed is an excellent writer, technically—I simply didn’t enjoy the characters or the plot of this book.

Review: Within the Hollow Crown, by Margaret Campbell Barnes

Pages:333
Original date of publication: 1941
My edition: 2010 (Sourcebooks)
How I acquired my copy: ARC via the publisher, January 2010

Within the Hollow Crown is the story of Richard II, beginning at age 15 when he managed to put down the Peasants’ Rebellion in 1381. The son of Edward the Black Prince and Joan of Kent, Richard became King at age 10, after the death of his grandfather, Edward III. Richard II has a bit of a Bad Reputation, due to the way he handled certain events during his reign, but Margaret Campbell Barnes attempts to restore his reputation in this novel. Although she achieved her goal in this way, I still found that there was a lot lacking about this book.

This is the first novel I’ve read about Richard II (in fact, it’s the only novel about him that I’ve heard of). Richard’s story is extremely interesting, and the comparisons between he and his great-grandfather Edward the II are inevitable. The time period in which Edward lived is extraordinary too; the Peasants’ Revolt was merely the capstone on a century beset by chaos. It’s remarkable, therefore, how an author can manage to make a story like this uninteresting—frequently I found my attention wandering while reading this book.

I think one of my major problems with this book is that it feels dated; the research Barnes probably based her book on is outdated. Now historians tend to think that Richard suffered from personality disorders, especially towards the end of his life; Barnes’s characters is a muddled mess most of the time, which made it difficult for me as a reader to understand or even sympathize with his actions.

Her descriptions of the rioting in London in 1382 are well done, as is her description of the way that Richard died (though there's no certain proof either way), but I feel as though the various parts of the novel are disjointed. The writing style itself is confusing; Barnes uses a lot of big words (like “adumbrating”), but none of her prose truly makes much sense much of the time. Her dialogue also feels stilted. I did like the whole idea behind the novel, and I find Barnes’s attempt to portray Richard sympathetically admirable; but I just didn’t like a lot of this book.