(no subject)
Only a month late! My book report for February 2008:
Anne Bishop, Sebastion. This was really terrible. Anne Bishop is known for writing id-fulfillment in fantasy novels, complete with as many abused Mary Sues as possible. I expected lots of fluffy titilation with very little substance (no real plot or cohesive world building, I mean), but I was annoyed at how boring and dull the would-be-titilation was. Sebastion is an incubus living in a world created specifically to cater to "dark desires", and yet all he does is have bland sex with women. No kinks, no gender-play, certainly nothing homoerotic (dammit)--the most depraved thing he does is eat cheesy bread shaped like sexual organs. The Den of Iniquity is supposedly terribly shameless and lascivious, yet all that apparently happens there is lame het sex. A single murder sends all the residents into a tizzy. And no one worries about money! Everything is provided by Gloriana Belladonna, a beautiful, abused-as-a-child enchantress. (Note: In Anne Bishop stories, *everyone* is abused as a child.) There's no tension or grit to this book. Even the big terrible monster is A)not scary in the least and B)clearly going to lose, undoubtedly due to some deus ex machina. Ugh.
Ed. Denise Little, Hags, Sirens, and Other Bad Girls of Fantasy. Out of 20 short stories, only three didn't induce nausea or boredom. Rosemary Edghill's "Bitter Fruit: A Tale of Crownland" was a grown up and viscerally disturbing story about a woman who seeks justice. Scott William Carpenter's "Heart of Stone," in which a calculating Medusa experiments with what permutation of love will set her free of her killing curse. And Michael Hiebert's "Dust" is a slightly trippy look at a tooth-fairy accidentally bound to the will of a vapid human child. The rest are banal, trite and dull re-tellings of all the usual tales. Cinderella's "evil" stepmother tells her tale. A Valkerie falls in love with a mortal soldier and begs Odin to let her live a "real life," which apparently means a wedding and babies. Morgan le Fey's oh so selfless desire to save Britain . On and on and on, one uninspired plodding story after another. These are the worst kind of pseudo-feminist revisionist fantasy.
Ed. Jim Hines, Heroes In Training. A collection of bad fantasy short stories. I didn't like any of them. Unlike Hags, Sirens, and Other Bad Girls of Fantasy, some of the ideas behind the stories are at least innovative. However, the follow-through is crap, and the endings are, without exception, terrible. I'm ashamed that this was published.
Ysabeau S. Wilce, Flora Segunda: Being the Magickal Mishaps of a Girl of Spirit, Her Glass-Gazing Sidekick, Two Ominous Butlers (One Blue), a House with Eleven Thousand Rooms, and a Red Dog. Flora lives in a huge, crumbling house with her dogs, horses, and the mad Poppy. Her fourteenth birthday is coming up, when she'll become an adult and join the army, as all of her family has done before her. But Flora is round as a dumpling and likes reading adventure stories more than fighting, and she'd rather learn to be a sneaky spy than a magic-less soldier. When she stumbles upon the secret to her house's decrepitude, she embarks upon an adventure that will forever alter the state of her family and herself.
I loved the exuberant tone of this novel. I only wish it was more complete in itself, and less a set-up for a sequel. The world-building is excellent, and I love that for once, a YA fantasy novel is not set in some alternate-England but instead, a Mayan-influenced California . And each of the characters is fascinating: contradictory but brave Flora; her best friend, the vain but generous Udo; the tragic and exasperating Poppy; and the selfish Valefor.
Venetia Murray, And Elegant Madness: High Society in Regency England . Anecdotes, diary entries and letter excerpts pepper this social history. Very interesting, especially when read in conjunction with Heyer.
Sherwood Smith, Crown Duel. Raised in obscurity and poverty, Countess Melaria vows vengeance against the tyrant ruling her country. She and her older brother embark upon an ill-advised guerilla war. Despite the naivete of her side (they consider itching powder in bedding a particularly successful tactic), they drive off the first commander--who is replaced by Shevraeth, a Scarlet Pimpernell type. He easily defeats the ragtag peasant army Melaria leads, then uses his triumphant return to the capital to stage an effective coup. The second half (initially the second book, entitled Court Duel) chronicles Melaria’s time in the capital, where Shevraeth has been trying to bloodlessly consolidate power and create an effective and fair system of government.
This could have been a funny, meta look at fantasy tropes, in which the feisty but jejune heroine keeps accidentally fouling up the true hero’s plans. Unfortunately, even though Melaria is completely useless at everything, everyone falls in love with her. So what if every battle scene ends with Melaria fainting or getting thumped upside the head-she’s a courageous warrior! So what if she trusts all the wrong people for all the wrong reasons--Shevraeth admires her uncomplicated thinking. Shevraeth is in love with Melaria, of course, and near the end of the novel Melaria begins to realize this and fall in love with him as well. Their romance was at least as unbelievable as the earlier war scenes.
Georgette Heyer, Charity Girl. Viscount Desford is titled, wealthy and smart, but no woman has yet caught his eye. Then he encounters Charity, a young lady whose parents were the despair of society and is now living on her aunt's sufferance. Desford is moved by her unhappiness, and sets out to find her grandfather, who he hopes will take charge of her. Everyone fears that Desford will fall for the penniless, unconnected Charity, who has nothing to offer Desford but a good heart and "taking" ways. SPOILERS: Luckily for everyone, the adventure of finding Charity's grandfather leads Desford to realize that he is in love with his old friend Henrietta. I didn't get a good feel for any of the characters, and there wasn't a great deal of plot. This was enjoyable, but compared to Heyer's other books, lackluster.
Georgette Heyer, Cousin Kate. Kate Malvern is 24 and has no relations or money. Just as she is contemplating sinking beneath the boundaries of gentility and becoming a domestic servant, her heretofore unmet aunt descends upon her. She is the Lady Broome, and she overwhelms Kate with kindess and brings her to Staplewood, the ancestral home of the Broomes. There is clearly something sinister going on at Staplewood, focused around Kate's moody cousin Torquil. Thankfully, Kate finds an ally in Philip Broome, with whom she shares spirited banter.
Heyer does not spend much time distinguishing Kate and Philip. They are the hero and heroine of the story, and that's that. She spends a great deal of time on Torquil, and therein lies my big disappointment. Cousin Kate begins like a light hearted romp, and ends like a light hearted romp, but in the middle everyone gives long monologues about how Torquil is mad, mad I tell you and the great tragedy of it all. In fact, the happy ending comes mere pages after two violent deaths, yet the victims' relatives are apparently far too pleased with the impending marriage of Philip and Kate to mourn. It's a disjointed book, and one that owes rather too much to the overwrought gothic novels of the nineteenth century. I'm also annoyed in the presentation of Torquil's madness--I read him like Colin from The Secret Garden, as an under-socialized, high-strung and insensitive spoiled brat. He doesn't have trouble distinguishing reality or anything, but everyone around him takes it for granted that he needs to be institutionalized. Even the eventual deaths don't seem like proof of madness to me. I was puzzled. Didn't they have a slightly better understanding of mental illness when this was written, in the twentieth century? Torquil wasn't mad--just badly raised.
Jane Aiken Hodge, The Private World of Georgette Heyer. An in-depth look at the life of Georgette Heyer, writer of a prodigious number of historical romances. Heyer was a well-read, stylish, very private woman who enjoyed a small but close circle of friends and family and researched her books meticulously.
Carrie Bebris, Pride and Prescience: Or, A Truth Universally Acknowledged. The newly-wed Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are caught up in the mystery of Caroline Bingley’s increasingly odd behavior. The writing is in keeping with the time but not overly stiff, and the author clearly has a good feel for the personalities of Austen’s characters. The one problem is the inclusion of mystical silliness, which will hopefully be excised from the rest of this promising series.
Jo Walton, The King’s Peace. When Sulien's village is attacked by Jarnish raiders, her father sends her to the king for help. She immediately proves her courage and worth as a warrior to Urdo, who is setting himself up as the new High King. She rises through the ranks of his army, while all around her the various factions and tribes fight for land and power. Only the High King has the vision and the might to unite them all, but he needs all the help he can get against the encroaching chaos.
This is a fantastic retelling of the myth of King Arthur. It is by far the most believable version I've read--White and Mallory should take notes. I hate how the Victorians screwed up the entire mythos of King Arthur and made it entirely about forbidden sex (oh noes!). Walton takes back the myth from their damp hands and sets it once more into a time as brutal as it is honorable, with characters as pragmatic as they are brave.
Marge Piercy, Woman on the Edge of Time. This is my favorite kind of feminist book, akin in many ways to the stories of Octavia Butler and Joanna Russ. Consuelo is a woman living a hopeless life in modern America . Her lover is dead, her child has been taken from her, and there is literally no one alive who respects her. She is mired in a mental hospital, where she begins having visions of the future.
Sarah Monette, A Companion To Wolves. Njall is the teenage son of a jarl when he is inducted into the world of the wolfcarls--warriors who have psychically bonded with trellwolves in order to fight the encroaching trolls. The transition is hard for Njall, because wolfcarls are completely devoted to the fight. They do not own land, they do not marry or raid for glory--and when their wolves mate with other wolves, their wolfcarls mate with each other. Njall has to adapt from being in control of his own life, choices and sexuality, to being an object of lust and subject to the needs of the wolfthret. It takes him the entire book to come to terms with this, and I appreciated that he stumbled several times while trying to maintain both his honor and his sanity.
I was less impressed with the wolfthret and the generations-long war with the trolls. There are far too many characters, and Monette and Bear don't write compelling battles. The trolls crush the wolves and humans throughout, razing their villages and forcing them to retreat at every turn, but I never really got the feeling of approaching doom. The writing and plot are a bit uneven; I wish the authors had focused a little more, either on the ramifications of becoming part of the wolfthret or on the war.
Deanna Raybourn, Silent In the Grave. The book opens thusly: "To say that I met Nicholas Brisbane over my husband's dead body is not entirely accurate. Edward, it should be noted, was still twitching upon the floor."
An excellent beginning! It is, unfortunately, all downhill from there. Lady Julia Grey, the narrator and heroine, is a sensible, good hearted gentlewoman far ahead of her time. She's a very readable character, although anachronistic. I would like to read a book in which she simply goes through life. Unfortunately, the author is determined to write mysterious romances. To solve her husband's murder, Julia engages the gentleman detective Nicholas Brisbane. He is swarthy and sarcastic and secretly excellent at fighting and music and can speak every language ever and etc--a horrible, hodgepodge collection of stereotypes that makes him well-nigh unreadable. The mystery is not any better: fifty pages from the end, the author remembers that this is a mystery novel and suddenly all sorts of clues start falling into place.
I was disappointed with this book. Raybourn obviously did some research into the Victorian era, and the March family (of which Julia is a member) is an interesting one. But the sloppiness of the mystery and the trite hero decreased my enjoyment considerably.
Barbara Hambly, Dragonsbane. When a huge black dragon descends upon the Deep of Ylferdun, young Gareth sets out to find the Dragonsbane, the only man alive who has ever defeated a dragon. But Sir John Aversin is not what Gareth had hoped for-he’s a scruffy academic who is less concerned about honor than he is the health of his villagers’ pigs. And Aversin’s lady love is not what Gareth had expected either: a plain, middle-aged witch, who has borne Aversin two sons out of wedlock and is utterly unapologetic. Swallowing his misgivings, Gareth convinces Aversin and his witch, Jenny Waynest, to travel to the King’s Court and battle the dragon. But once there, will anyone listen to two hicks, past their prime and without wealth or connections?
I loved this book. It’s a wholly grown-up fantasy novel.
Jasper Fforde, Thursday Next: First Among Sequels. The first few chapters are as unbearably twee as Fforde gets, but after awhile the plot kicks in. It is fourteen years since the last Thursday Next novel, and her children have hit their teens. She's still working for SpecOps and Jurisfiction, but she keeps it a secret from her family, who thinks she sells carpets.
All is not well in the BookVerse or in the Outlands: reading rates are falling and dangerous new legislation is being passed. Ghosts, demons, doppelgangers and many time-travelling versions of Thursday's son Friday complicate matters. It's a tenuous plot, one held together by loads of literature jokes and a hefty dash of Thursday's unique brand of critical thinking. Fforde throws a lot of plot hooks into the air and only resolves a few of them, which is frustrating.
Sigrid Undset, Kristin Lavransdatter: The Wreath. This is the first third of the Kristin Lavransdatter saga, which earned Undset a Nobel prize. Kristin is the older daughter of Lavrans, a well respected landowner in medieval Norway . Her childhood and coming-of-age are interwoven with the religious, social and every-day history of her time. Undset clearly knows each of her characters intimately-there’s a sense of reality to even the background characters. I’ve always thought the religious prohibition against premarital sex is ridiculous, but nevertheless Undset made me deeply feel the angst and torment of Kristin and her family in regards to that subject. I’ve been advised not to read the subsequent parts, as apparently it gets even darker.
Carolly Erikson, Bloody Mary. Despite the sensationalist title, this is a reasoned, well pieced together biography of Henry VIII's eldest child. Most of the book is set during Henry's reign, and Erickson provides far too much detail therein. I don't really need to know the mechanics of battles fought by Mary's father, particularly when Mary's own reign takes up only ~100 pages. Erickson focuses on odd details (she documents pretty much every uprising ever, no matter how small) while ignoring others (Mary's presence in the famous dynastic tapestry, Catherine Parr's attempts to bring the family together, Francis Brandon's close relationship with Mary that led to her pardon and her daughter's execution). Erickson reminded me that Mary loved sumptuous fabrics and jewels (a character quirk often forgotten by dramatists, who love putting her in dour black), but passes over her relationship with Elizabeth and everything to do with religious prosecution on Mary's part. I didn't always agree with her choices, but Erickson's scholarship is good.
R Garcia y Robertson, Firebird. Aria, the mischievous foster-daughter of the Bone Witch, comes across a French knight wandering in her forest. They fall in love, but have no time to luxuriate in it. Numerous armies are massed against them, for the knight has stolen the Firebird's Egg, the curse and luck of Russia 's rulers. Aria and Sir Roye go on a quest to dispose of the egg, but are separated almost immediately. They each have their own adventures, but are finally reunited and manage to throw the egg into a pit of fire.
It's not a good book. The author regularly jumps from one character's perspective to another's within the space of two sentences. Whenever he gets bored with a plot, he inserts a randomly chosen deus ex machina to sweep the characters off to the next bit. In the first few chapters, Robertson y Garcia writes detailed characterizations for Aria and Sir Roye. As the chapters go on, however, he loses interest in their particulars and focuses on their sex lives instead. There is a lot of sex, and it's written in a rather prurient way...it felt gratuitous and a bit exploitive.
Veronica Buckley, Christina, Queen of Sweden : The Restless Life of a European Eccentric. Christina became Queen of Sweden as a child and abdicated as a young woman. I absolutely hate her. She was a terrible queen and a selfish, pompous, spoiled woman. I was so pleased when she abdicated the throne so she could pursue her Grand Artistic Future, and doubly pleased when it turned out she was no great genius, after all. She died alone, destitute, and despised by most of Europe , which I think fitting for such an annoying person.
The history itself is well-researched and well-written. I usually read about monarchs whose fates I already know--it felt very weird not to know what would happen. I was so impatient to find out that I actually skipped ahead several times.
Anne Bishop, Sebastion. This was really terrible. Anne Bishop is known for writing id-fulfillment in fantasy novels, complete with as many abused Mary Sues as possible. I expected lots of fluffy titilation with very little substance (no real plot or cohesive world building, I mean), but I was annoyed at how boring and dull the would-be-titilation was. Sebastion is an incubus living in a world created specifically to cater to "dark desires", and yet all he does is have bland sex with women. No kinks, no gender-play, certainly nothing homoerotic (dammit)--the most depraved thing he does is eat cheesy bread shaped like sexual organs. The Den of Iniquity is supposedly terribly shameless and lascivious, yet all that apparently happens there is lame het sex. A single murder sends all the residents into a tizzy. And no one worries about money! Everything is provided by Gloriana Belladonna, a beautiful, abused-as-a-child enchantress. (Note: In Anne Bishop stories, *everyone* is abused as a child.) There's no tension or grit to this book. Even the big terrible monster is A)not scary in the least and B)clearly going to lose, undoubtedly due to some deus ex machina. Ugh.
Ed. Denise Little, Hags, Sirens, and Other Bad Girls of Fantasy. Out of 20 short stories, only three didn't induce nausea or boredom. Rosemary Edghill's "Bitter Fruit: A Tale of Crownland" was a grown up and viscerally disturbing story about a woman who seeks justice. Scott William Carpenter's "Heart of Stone," in which a calculating Medusa experiments with what permutation of love will set her free of her killing curse. And Michael Hiebert's "Dust" is a slightly trippy look at a tooth-fairy accidentally bound to the will of a vapid human child. The rest are banal, trite and dull re-tellings of all the usual tales. Cinderella's "evil" stepmother tells her tale. A Valkerie falls in love with a mortal soldier and begs Odin to let her live a "real life," which apparently means a wedding and babies. Morgan le Fey's oh so selfless desire to save Britain . On and on and on, one uninspired plodding story after another. These are the worst kind of pseudo-feminist revisionist fantasy.
Ed. Jim Hines, Heroes In Training. A collection of bad fantasy short stories. I didn't like any of them. Unlike Hags, Sirens, and Other Bad Girls of Fantasy, some of the ideas behind the stories are at least innovative. However, the follow-through is crap, and the endings are, without exception, terrible. I'm ashamed that this was published.
Ysabeau S. Wilce, Flora Segunda: Being the Magickal Mishaps of a Girl of Spirit, Her Glass-Gazing Sidekick, Two Ominous Butlers (One Blue), a House with Eleven Thousand Rooms, and a Red Dog. Flora lives in a huge, crumbling house with her dogs, horses, and the mad Poppy. Her fourteenth birthday is coming up, when she'll become an adult and join the army, as all of her family has done before her. But Flora is round as a dumpling and likes reading adventure stories more than fighting, and she'd rather learn to be a sneaky spy than a magic-less soldier. When she stumbles upon the secret to her house's decrepitude, she embarks upon an adventure that will forever alter the state of her family and herself.
I loved the exuberant tone of this novel. I only wish it was more complete in itself, and less a set-up for a sequel. The world-building is excellent, and I love that for once, a YA fantasy novel is not set in some alternate-England but instead, a Mayan-influenced California . And each of the characters is fascinating: contradictory but brave Flora; her best friend, the vain but generous Udo; the tragic and exasperating Poppy; and the selfish Valefor.
Venetia Murray, And Elegant Madness: High Society in Regency England . Anecdotes, diary entries and letter excerpts pepper this social history. Very interesting, especially when read in conjunction with Heyer.
Sherwood Smith, Crown Duel. Raised in obscurity and poverty, Countess Melaria vows vengeance against the tyrant ruling her country. She and her older brother embark upon an ill-advised guerilla war. Despite the naivete of her side (they consider itching powder in bedding a particularly successful tactic), they drive off the first commander--who is replaced by Shevraeth, a Scarlet Pimpernell type. He easily defeats the ragtag peasant army Melaria leads, then uses his triumphant return to the capital to stage an effective coup. The second half (initially the second book, entitled Court Duel) chronicles Melaria’s time in the capital, where Shevraeth has been trying to bloodlessly consolidate power and create an effective and fair system of government.
This could have been a funny, meta look at fantasy tropes, in which the feisty but jejune heroine keeps accidentally fouling up the true hero’s plans. Unfortunately, even though Melaria is completely useless at everything, everyone falls in love with her. So what if every battle scene ends with Melaria fainting or getting thumped upside the head-she’s a courageous warrior! So what if she trusts all the wrong people for all the wrong reasons--Shevraeth admires her uncomplicated thinking. Shevraeth is in love with Melaria, of course, and near the end of the novel Melaria begins to realize this and fall in love with him as well. Their romance was at least as unbelievable as the earlier war scenes.
Georgette Heyer, Charity Girl. Viscount Desford is titled, wealthy and smart, but no woman has yet caught his eye. Then he encounters Charity, a young lady whose parents were the despair of society and is now living on her aunt's sufferance. Desford is moved by her unhappiness, and sets out to find her grandfather, who he hopes will take charge of her. Everyone fears that Desford will fall for the penniless, unconnected Charity, who has nothing to offer Desford but a good heart and "taking" ways. SPOILERS: Luckily for everyone, the adventure of finding Charity's grandfather leads Desford to realize that he is in love with his old friend Henrietta. I didn't get a good feel for any of the characters, and there wasn't a great deal of plot. This was enjoyable, but compared to Heyer's other books, lackluster.
Georgette Heyer, Cousin Kate. Kate Malvern is 24 and has no relations or money. Just as she is contemplating sinking beneath the boundaries of gentility and becoming a domestic servant, her heretofore unmet aunt descends upon her. She is the Lady Broome, and she overwhelms Kate with kindess and brings her to Staplewood, the ancestral home of the Broomes. There is clearly something sinister going on at Staplewood, focused around Kate's moody cousin Torquil. Thankfully, Kate finds an ally in Philip Broome, with whom she shares spirited banter.
Heyer does not spend much time distinguishing Kate and Philip. They are the hero and heroine of the story, and that's that. She spends a great deal of time on Torquil, and therein lies my big disappointment. Cousin Kate begins like a light hearted romp, and ends like a light hearted romp, but in the middle everyone gives long monologues about how Torquil is mad, mad I tell you and the great tragedy of it all. In fact, the happy ending comes mere pages after two violent deaths, yet the victims' relatives are apparently far too pleased with the impending marriage of Philip and Kate to mourn. It's a disjointed book, and one that owes rather too much to the overwrought gothic novels of the nineteenth century. I'm also annoyed in the presentation of Torquil's madness--I read him like Colin from The Secret Garden, as an under-socialized, high-strung and insensitive spoiled brat. He doesn't have trouble distinguishing reality or anything, but everyone around him takes it for granted that he needs to be institutionalized. Even the eventual deaths don't seem like proof of madness to me. I was puzzled. Didn't they have a slightly better understanding of mental illness when this was written, in the twentieth century? Torquil wasn't mad--just badly raised.
Jane Aiken Hodge, The Private World of Georgette Heyer. An in-depth look at the life of Georgette Heyer, writer of a prodigious number of historical romances. Heyer was a well-read, stylish, very private woman who enjoyed a small but close circle of friends and family and researched her books meticulously.
Carrie Bebris, Pride and Prescience: Or, A Truth Universally Acknowledged. The newly-wed Mr. and Mrs. Darcy are caught up in the mystery of Caroline Bingley’s increasingly odd behavior. The writing is in keeping with the time but not overly stiff, and the author clearly has a good feel for the personalities of Austen’s characters. The one problem is the inclusion of mystical silliness, which will hopefully be excised from the rest of this promising series.
Jo Walton, The King’s Peace. When Sulien's village is attacked by Jarnish raiders, her father sends her to the king for help. She immediately proves her courage and worth as a warrior to Urdo, who is setting himself up as the new High King. She rises through the ranks of his army, while all around her the various factions and tribes fight for land and power. Only the High King has the vision and the might to unite them all, but he needs all the help he can get against the encroaching chaos.
This is a fantastic retelling of the myth of King Arthur. It is by far the most believable version I've read--White and Mallory should take notes. I hate how the Victorians screwed up the entire mythos of King Arthur and made it entirely about forbidden sex (oh noes!). Walton takes back the myth from their damp hands and sets it once more into a time as brutal as it is honorable, with characters as pragmatic as they are brave.
Marge Piercy, Woman on the Edge of Time. This is my favorite kind of feminist book, akin in many ways to the stories of Octavia Butler and Joanna Russ. Consuelo is a woman living a hopeless life in modern America . Her lover is dead, her child has been taken from her, and there is literally no one alive who respects her. She is mired in a mental hospital, where she begins having visions of the future.
Sarah Monette, A Companion To Wolves. Njall is the teenage son of a jarl when he is inducted into the world of the wolfcarls--warriors who have psychically bonded with trellwolves in order to fight the encroaching trolls. The transition is hard for Njall, because wolfcarls are completely devoted to the fight. They do not own land, they do not marry or raid for glory--and when their wolves mate with other wolves, their wolfcarls mate with each other. Njall has to adapt from being in control of his own life, choices and sexuality, to being an object of lust and subject to the needs of the wolfthret. It takes him the entire book to come to terms with this, and I appreciated that he stumbled several times while trying to maintain both his honor and his sanity.
I was less impressed with the wolfthret and the generations-long war with the trolls. There are far too many characters, and Monette and Bear don't write compelling battles. The trolls crush the wolves and humans throughout, razing their villages and forcing them to retreat at every turn, but I never really got the feeling of approaching doom. The writing and plot are a bit uneven; I wish the authors had focused a little more, either on the ramifications of becoming part of the wolfthret or on the war.
Deanna Raybourn, Silent In the Grave. The book opens thusly: "To say that I met Nicholas Brisbane over my husband's dead body is not entirely accurate. Edward, it should be noted, was still twitching upon the floor."
An excellent beginning! It is, unfortunately, all downhill from there. Lady Julia Grey, the narrator and heroine, is a sensible, good hearted gentlewoman far ahead of her time. She's a very readable character, although anachronistic. I would like to read a book in which she simply goes through life. Unfortunately, the author is determined to write mysterious romances. To solve her husband's murder, Julia engages the gentleman detective Nicholas Brisbane. He is swarthy and sarcastic and secretly excellent at fighting and music and can speak every language ever and etc--a horrible, hodgepodge collection of stereotypes that makes him well-nigh unreadable. The mystery is not any better: fifty pages from the end, the author remembers that this is a mystery novel and suddenly all sorts of clues start falling into place.
I was disappointed with this book. Raybourn obviously did some research into the Victorian era, and the March family (of which Julia is a member) is an interesting one. But the sloppiness of the mystery and the trite hero decreased my enjoyment considerably.
Barbara Hambly, Dragonsbane. When a huge black dragon descends upon the Deep of Ylferdun, young Gareth sets out to find the Dragonsbane, the only man alive who has ever defeated a dragon. But Sir John Aversin is not what Gareth had hoped for-he’s a scruffy academic who is less concerned about honor than he is the health of his villagers’ pigs. And Aversin’s lady love is not what Gareth had expected either: a plain, middle-aged witch, who has borne Aversin two sons out of wedlock and is utterly unapologetic. Swallowing his misgivings, Gareth convinces Aversin and his witch, Jenny Waynest, to travel to the King’s Court and battle the dragon. But once there, will anyone listen to two hicks, past their prime and without wealth or connections?
I loved this book. It’s a wholly grown-up fantasy novel.
Jasper Fforde, Thursday Next: First Among Sequels. The first few chapters are as unbearably twee as Fforde gets, but after awhile the plot kicks in. It is fourteen years since the last Thursday Next novel, and her children have hit their teens. She's still working for SpecOps and Jurisfiction, but she keeps it a secret from her family, who thinks she sells carpets.
All is not well in the BookVerse or in the Outlands: reading rates are falling and dangerous new legislation is being passed. Ghosts, demons, doppelgangers and many time-travelling versions of Thursday's son Friday complicate matters. It's a tenuous plot, one held together by loads of literature jokes and a hefty dash of Thursday's unique brand of critical thinking. Fforde throws a lot of plot hooks into the air and only resolves a few of them, which is frustrating.
Sigrid Undset, Kristin Lavransdatter: The Wreath. This is the first third of the Kristin Lavransdatter saga, which earned Undset a Nobel prize. Kristin is the older daughter of Lavrans, a well respected landowner in medieval Norway . Her childhood and coming-of-age are interwoven with the religious, social and every-day history of her time. Undset clearly knows each of her characters intimately-there’s a sense of reality to even the background characters. I’ve always thought the religious prohibition against premarital sex is ridiculous, but nevertheless Undset made me deeply feel the angst and torment of Kristin and her family in regards to that subject. I’ve been advised not to read the subsequent parts, as apparently it gets even darker.
Carolly Erikson, Bloody Mary. Despite the sensationalist title, this is a reasoned, well pieced together biography of Henry VIII's eldest child. Most of the book is set during Henry's reign, and Erickson provides far too much detail therein. I don't really need to know the mechanics of battles fought by Mary's father, particularly when Mary's own reign takes up only ~100 pages. Erickson focuses on odd details (she documents pretty much every uprising ever, no matter how small) while ignoring others (Mary's presence in the famous dynastic tapestry, Catherine Parr's attempts to bring the family together, Francis Brandon's close relationship with Mary that led to her pardon and her daughter's execution). Erickson reminded me that Mary loved sumptuous fabrics and jewels (a character quirk often forgotten by dramatists, who love putting her in dour black), but passes over her relationship with Elizabeth and everything to do with religious prosecution on Mary's part. I didn't always agree with her choices, but Erickson's scholarship is good.
R Garcia y Robertson, Firebird. Aria, the mischievous foster-daughter of the Bone Witch, comes across a French knight wandering in her forest. They fall in love, but have no time to luxuriate in it. Numerous armies are massed against them, for the knight has stolen the Firebird's Egg, the curse and luck of Russia 's rulers. Aria and Sir Roye go on a quest to dispose of the egg, but are separated almost immediately. They each have their own adventures, but are finally reunited and manage to throw the egg into a pit of fire.
It's not a good book. The author regularly jumps from one character's perspective to another's within the space of two sentences. Whenever he gets bored with a plot, he inserts a randomly chosen deus ex machina to sweep the characters off to the next bit. In the first few chapters, Robertson y Garcia writes detailed characterizations for Aria and Sir Roye. As the chapters go on, however, he loses interest in their particulars and focuses on their sex lives instead. There is a lot of sex, and it's written in a rather prurient way...it felt gratuitous and a bit exploitive.
Veronica Buckley, Christina, Queen of Sweden : The Restless Life of a European Eccentric. Christina became Queen of Sweden as a child and abdicated as a young woman. I absolutely hate her. She was a terrible queen and a selfish, pompous, spoiled woman. I was so pleased when she abdicated the throne so she could pursue her Grand Artistic Future, and doubly pleased when it turned out she was no great genius, after all. She died alone, destitute, and despised by most of Europe , which I think fitting for such an annoying person.
The history itself is well-researched and well-written. I usually read about monarchs whose fates I already know--it felt very weird not to know what would happen. I was so impatient to find out that I actually skipped ahead several times.