historical fiction Archives - Page 2 of 5

Yzabel / June 14, 2017

Review: The Girl from Rawblood

The Girl from Rawblood: A Novel by Catriona Ward

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

For generations the Villarcas have died mysteriously, and young. Now Iris and her father will finally understand why. . .

At the turn of England’s century, as the wind whistles in the lonely halls of Rawblood, young Iris Villarca is the last of her family’s line. They are haunted, through the generations, by “her,” a curse passed down through ancient blood that marks each Villarca for certain heartbreak, and death.

Iris forsakes her promise to her father, to remain alone, safe from the world. She dares to fall in love, and the consequences of her choice are immediate and terrifying. As the world falls apart around her, she must take a final journey back to Rawblood where it all began and where it must all end…

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

I did like the narrative weaving back and forth between past and present, shedding more light on characters that came before Iris and Tom, as well as the atmosphere of Rawblood, both stifling and inviting to nostalgia. I had more trouble keeping interested in the story itself, though: the characters weren’t particularly engaging, so I never cared much about them. I never really felt the connection between Iris and Tom, and therefore its role in the ‘immediate and terrifying’ consequences mentioned in the blurb didn’t have much of an impact

The present tense narration tended to throw me out of the story from time to time, which didn’t help; I’m not sure why, I’m not too keen on that tense when it comes to historical fiction (and/or when several narrators are involved, as it’s often difficult to tell who’s telling the story, and it was the case here at times).

The reveal towards the end made sense in a way, yet seemed to me like it fell a little abruptly, and wasn’t completely… justified. Revenge? But why, considering ‘her’ identity, why would she inflict that on the Villarcas? Accident, couldn’t help it? Hm, not really convinced here. Quite a few things were unclear, and not in a way that contributed to a mysterious / gothic atmosphere.

Conclusion: I may have liked it more, if not for the style and the characters.

View all my reviews

Yzabel / May 20, 2017

Review: The Breedling and the City in the Garden

The Breedling and the City in the Garden by Kimberlee Ann Bastian

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Absolute obedience, servitude, neutrality.

These were the laws that once governed Bartholomew, an immortal soulcatcher, until one ill-fated night when he was forced to make a choice: rebel against his masters or reveal an ancient, dangerous secret.

He chose defiance.

Imprisoned for centuries as punishment for his decision, Bartholomew wastes away—until he creates an opportunity to escape. By a stroke of chance, Bartholomew finds himself in the human world and soon learns that breaking his bonds does not come without a price. Cut off from the grace that once ruled him, he must discover a new magic in 1930s Chicago.

Armed with only a cryptic message to give him direction, Bartholomew desperately tries to resume the mission he had started so long ago. Relying on the unlikely guidance of the streetwise orphan Charlie Reese, Bartholomew must navigate the depressed streets of the City in the Garden. But in order to solve this riddle, he must first discover if choice and fate are one in the same.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley.]

I thought I’d like this novel more. It has an interesting and probably complex mythos, juxtaposing our world and another, Elemental-like creator powers, a Fates triad, soulcatchers, the Devil, and quite a few more—something I wouldn’t have minded dive in more. However, the way information was revealed was strange: both an info-dump and confusing, which is an unfortunate mix. I don’t doubt that, had it been presented differently, I would’ve warmed up to it.

I don’t mind a book starting in medias res, but here I felt I was thrown into a story without having enough background elements to fully grasp who the characters were, what their roles were, and why they were important. Stingy Jack, the Tales Teller, the Apothecary… After a while, it started to make sense, yet too late into the story for me to have been allowed to care about them, and too little (for instance, the relationship between Buck/Bartholomew and the Shepherdess is only made clearer right at the end; had it been manifest sooner, I may have cared about the Breedling a bit more, I suppose).

Also, some of the decisions the characters made were odd, or at least presented in a way that that made them look like they came out of nowhere, or without subtlety. I was particularly unsure about Charlie’s ‘plan’ involving the speakeasy—it made sense in one way, but not considering the kind of people would go there, as if he couldn’t have thought about that (hint: precisely the kind of people Charlie didn’t want to see near Buck).

The style was the other element that really bothered me. Omniscient point of view isn’t my favourite, so when it comes with a prose I don’t enjoy, I don’t do well with it. Dialogues were often stilted, with characters telling about their past as if they were reading from a book (I never expected Charlie to speak the way he did), and a lot of telling instead of showing. Since there were a lot of heated feelings in the story (grief, tension between gangs, wariness, simmering violence, threats…), this ‘telling’ was all the more obvious.

Nevertheless, there were good parts in the novel. Charlie especially was a relatable character: not perfect for sure, torn between his desire to follow his mother’s wishes (by helping those younger than him) and his wish to be free to live a life of his own—and yet, his natural tendencies always carry him towards taking care of others. He had to go through a lot, dealing with his grief while trying to follow his sense of duty, and no matter what, I definitely cannot fault a person for accepting their responsibilities.

I don’t think I’ll pick the second book though. It’s more a 1.5/2-star read for me.

Yzabel / February 13, 2017

Review: The Emperor In Shadow

Yamada Monogatari: The Emperor in Shadow by Richard Parks

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

Lord Yamada is called away―one last time―from his newly restored estates in Kamakura to help Prince Kanemore ensure that Princess Teiko’s son, Takahito, inherits the Chrysanthemum Throne. Unfortunately, assuming the throne proves to be the easy part. Yamada must then help Takahito renounce that throne in such a way as to hobble the power of the Fujiwara clan forever!

Rating:

[I received a copy of this novel through NetGalley.]

First, please note this is not a standalone novel, contrary to what I thought when I requested it, but part of a series (and very likely the last volume). However, I didn’t find it difficult to follow the story and understand the characters: when the narrator alludes to events of the past or people he had previously met, he always adds a couple of sentences, nothing too long, just enough for a reader to understand the context. So this was good with me.

The setting here is that of feudal Japan (the Emperor and his court, bushi, military governors, geisha and courtesans) with a dash of supernatural: ghosts and youkai are common knowledge, and onmyôji and priestesses have actual power. In this world, Yamada and his faithful friend Kenji are confronted to attempted murder and political intrigue, from the Ise temple to the capital and the Emperor’s court; I found the mystery decent enough, not too complicated (my guesses about a few things turned out to be right) yet not too easy either for the characters to understand, without convenient deus ex machina bringing the answers (Yamada deducted those).

It took me a couple of weeks to read, but it definitely wasn’t boring (that was much more a matter of having lots of things to do and needing to prioritise other books in the meantime). The events made sense, the characters were likeable, and even though it’s not my favourite novel ever, it was entertaining and believable.

On the downside, there were instances of Yamada ‘hiding’ things from the reader, which I don’t particularly appreciate in mystery novels, and the female characters, while attaching, didn’t have much to do apart from conveniently be here when a specific piece of information was needed, or wait in their palace for the men to do all the work. Granted, the setting itself doesn’t lend itself to a lot of female freedom (aristocratic constraints, expectations placed on princesses, and so on), but it didn’t help.

Conclusion: Still enjoyable in spite of these flaws.

Yzabel / October 25, 2016

Review: Orphans of the Carnival

Orphans of the Carnival by Carol Birch

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

A life in the spotlight will keep anyone hidden.

Julia Pastrana is the singing and dancing marvel from Mexico, heralded on tours across nineteenth-century Europe as much for her talent as for her rather unusual appearance. Yet few can see past the thick hair that covers her: she is both the fascinating toast of a Governor’s ball and the shunned, revolting, unnatural beast, to be hidden from children and pregnant women.

But what is her wonderful and terrible link to Rose, collector of lost treasures in an attic room in modern-day south London? In this haunting tale of identity, love and independence, these two lives will connect in unforgettable ways.

Review:

[I received a copy of this novel through NetGalley.]

This novel is based on the story of Julia Pastrana, a perforrmer and “freak” who lived in the 19th century; more than the typical “woman with a beard”, Julia was covered in hair, and had a facial condition that made her look like an ape. Throughout the story, we get to see here leave her hometown and the house where she had lived, to perform with a troupe, then with independent managers. More than a mere attraction, Julia sang and danced beautifully, something other characters find both fascinating and troubling: after all, is she really a human being, or merely an animal?

I found this attraction mixed with revulsion fascinating, for all the questions it raised. Most of the story is told from Julia’s point of view, and there’s no doubt she’s a human being, period, with her own thoughts, feelings, dignity, and desires in life. She may appear as a little passive at first (her fellow performers have to remind her to get a contract, not just take everything her manager send her way, and she let herself be prodded by doctors and scientists), but she reveals herself quickly as full of willpower: leaving the people she’s always known for the big unknown, and especially accepting her condition as something normal, something that’s part of her, while making use of skills that, in about everybody, would certainly garner admiration (singing, dancing, playing the guitar, acting). There’s some contradiction in her character, true; on the other hand, this is just part of the human condition—so many of us are creatures of contradiction.

But the world isn’t so kind to her, and while a lot of people are ready to pay just to see her, or are her friends (Ezra, Friederike…), some others don’t hesitate to criticise her, judge her as amoral, or as an abnormality that should be kept under lock and not shown to people. This definitely raises the matter of the “freaks” (Victorian period) and how they were perceived, not to mention what may easily be forgotten: that those people were, well, people first. In this way, the novel can be shocking—thus reflecting a very Victorian feeling, with “well-thinking people” judging those who’re different, while at the same time never judging themselves for gawking. (Also, there’s the matter of Theo’s decision later.)

This highlighted the tragedy of Julia’s life: people came to see her, but less for her skills than for her appearance. She was invited to social gatherings, but less for her personality than for others to “see the freak”. People talked about her relationship, but less out of happiness for the couple than to whisper in their backs about “does he does it with -that-?” It was all very sad, all the more because Julia can never free herself from her appearance, which in turns is limiting (she can’t go out without a veil, for instance, and in spite of travelling a lot, she doesn’t get to really see that many places).

Theo, well… Theo was less interesting. Mostly his character was of a mercantile quality (and at least he’s honest about that), and there was never any mystery about the part money/fame played in their relationship. Still, when things were told from his point of view, they never seemed as rich and interesting as when they were from Julia’s.

Julia’s story would have been a 3/4 stars. However, a few things prevented me from really enjoying it. First, Theo’s voice (as said, not very enthralling, especially when it dealt with his ambiguous feelings for her); I kept thinking that I would’ve wanted to see this relationship told only through Julia’s eyes, perhaps because there would’ve been more than a seed of wondering whether he truly loved her or just took advantage of the situation? Hard to tell. Also, the fact that Julia doesn’t stay that long with other performers, and apart from a couple of encounters with Ezra, Berniece and Cato later, mostly everything revolves around Julia and Theo, therefore: not much potential for various interactions.

Finally, the Rose narrative: I disliked that one, none of the characters were particularly appealing, and that story was only connected by a lose thread to Julia’s. I had expected something more… intense? More closely related? The way it was, it brought nothing to Julia’s story, and in the end my only feeling was “why did I bother reading those parts?”

Conclusion: 2.5 stars. Julia’s narrative didn’t need to be bogged down by Rose’s.

Yzabel / September 12, 2016

Review: Smoke

Smoke by Dan Vyleta

My rating: [rating=1]

Blurb:

England. A century ago, give or take a few years.

An England where people who are wicked in thought or deed are marked by the Smoke that pours forth from their bodies, a sign of their fallen state. The aristocracy do not smoke, proof of their virtue and right to rule, while the lower classes are drenched in sin and soot. An England utterly strange and utterly real.

An elite boarding school where the sons of the wealthy are groomed to take power as their birthright. Teachers with mysterious ties to warring political factions at the highest levels of government. Three young people who learn everything they’ve been taught is a lie – knowledge that could cost them their lives. A grand estate where secrets lurk in attic rooms and hidden laboratories. A love triangle. A desperate chase. Revolutionaries and secret police. Religious fanatics and coldhearted scientists. Murder. A London filled with danger and wonder. A tortured relationship between a mother and a daughter, and a mother and a son. Unexpected villains and unexpected heroes. Cool reason versus passion. Rich versus poor. Right versus wrong, though which is which isn’t clear.

Review:

(I got a copy through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

I really liked the premise: sin and violent emotions taking on shape and scent, through a strange smoke people let escape in spite of themselves, in an alternate Victorian setting where, much like in real Victorian England, the “lower classes” are considered as sinful, while the “upper classes” are supposed to be their betters—and what’s best here than -not- displaying the dreadful Smoke, right? However, ultimately I couldn’t care about the story at all, nor about the characters. I partly blame this on the rhythm, and partly on the choice of narrative tense and voices.

The first chapters, albeit a little slow, had the kind of atmosphere I hoped the whole novel would carry throughout, involving a private boarding school, creepy students, and masters entrenched within their stinky moral rectitude. Lovely, isn’t it? There is so much one can do with such a setting (can you tell I like boarding school settings?). There was so much promise to the strained relationship between Julius, the apparently perfect, almost angelic student who submits others to his own rule on top of the teachers’, a monster in elegant disguise, and Thomas, a murderer’s son, openly convinced that he’s a monster and will end up like his father.

Alas, after that, or more specifically about the part where the boys go visit London, things went downhill.

I can definitely say the narrative style didn’t convince me: a blend of a first and third person, but also of present and past tense. Unfortunately, first POV present is difficult to properly achieve, and third POV present is even more difficult… and it just didn’t work here, bringing a constant jarring note to the story. I spent more time being bothered about the tense shifts and sometimes confusing points of view, than really paying attention to what I was reading. Not to mention that some of those narrators weren’t so useful, being brought in for one scene, then never again—in other words, I never got to get a feeling for these characters, not enough to care about what happened to them. This extended to the actual main characters, who could have had an interesting dynamics as a twisted love triangle, united in sin and darkness as they were uncovering a plot that may or may not destroy England as they knew it.

Another really bothering thing was how the Smoke was everywhere, permeating every stratum of society, at the heart of the mystery… yet in the end, there was no clue as to -why- exactly it existed, what brought it out of humans. Something supernatural? Something physiological? Nada. And since there’s no indication whatsoever that there’ll be a second volume, for now it looks like we’ll never know. (Also, because the origins of Smoke, its nature, are involved in the plot our three “heroes” unveil, the absence of revelation and information is all the more annoying.)

It took me weeks to finish this novel, and to be honest, had I not felt like I owned a review for NetGalley, I’d have DNFed it.

Yzabel / August 17, 2016

Review: The Hypnotic City

The Hypnotic City by Andrea Berthot

My rating: [usr 3]

Blurb:

Philomena Blackwell survived a city plagued with monsters, the gilded cage of high society, and the rule of a heartless man… and she aims to leave it all behind.

It’s 1905, and London has finally been freed from Henry Jekyll’s terrible legacy – its people cured, its thirteen-year quarantine lifted. The world is waiting, and for a girl who dreams of being its most dazzling star, what could be more enticing than the bright lights of New York City?

She is drawn across the ocean like a moth to a flame, her heart set on proving that while she may be small on the outside, her soaring talent eclipses even Manhattan’s towering skyline. When she lands a big break, it seems as if the city is ready to fall under her spell – just as she seems to be falling for a handsome young stage manager. But is it her stage presence mesmerizing the audience, or something more sinister behind the scenes?

Philomena has always relied on her fierce will and fiery heart, but a new and more terrible danger lurks in the shadows of Broadway’s bright lights, and even a mind as determined as hers may not be immune to its seductive, insidious pull…

Review:

[I received a copy of this book from the publisher, in exchange for an honest review.]

Although this sequel to “The Heartless City” is more of a standalone, I’d still recommend reading the first novel, as it will make understanding Philomena (and her relationship with her friends) better.

Philomena herself is a character I liked a lot in the previous book. As a young woman, almost a girl still, who grew up in an infested London and a slave of her household, just good enough to be married and have children as soon as she’d be of age, she could have been just any old secondary character, but let not her diminutive stature fool you: there’s fire and heart and willpower underneath. Disowned by her family, she goes to New York to fulfil her dream of becoming a singer on the Broadway scene. There starts the story of “The Hypnotic City”.

I must admit I remained torn throughout my reading, because of the “rags to riches” aspect—it was hard for me to decide if it was too cliché to my liking, or if it provided, on the contrary, a nice mise en abyme to Tom Casey’s shows: they’re described as “ridiculous and inane” by Jamie, stories where a working girl discovers she’s actually from a noble background and gets to embrace her legacy while also finding love… and this runs parallel to what happens to Philomena, except that she knows she’s of noble birth, but hides it, since people are always scared of her whenever she mentions coming from London. I tend to be on the fence regarding such plots, and there are quite a few clichés as well in this one: the letters that never arrive. Still, I couldn’t help but keep thinking that was totally on purpose, the author going all “sod it, I like those tropes, so I’m going to use them”, and not something done to fit a stereotype just because “some people love it”. I cannot fault that, and any reader who enjoys this kind of story is very likely to enjoy this one more than I did. (Which isn’t to say I didn’t—it’s just not my favourite kind of plot, if that makes sense.)

One really good thing here, regarding this “sterotypical plot”, is the feeling of unease permeating it. Perhaps because I already knew what Philomena had been through, perhaps because I expected “something” to happen at some point, but also because, under all the glitter and budding-singer-becomes-a-star glitz, I could sense that something was amiss. And I’d say the characters feel it too, especially Jamie, who may speak out of jealousy or contempt, yet nevertheless puts a finger on a few strange things in the process.

Another good thing is that the heroine is not a passive, helpless creature who lets events unfold around her; she tries to seize chances (going to auditions…) when she can, and she asserts her will (when a man boos her at her first show, she improvises and ends up impressing the audience). Phil knows what she wants, and is ready to fight for it, even though there are moments when she feels defeated. Yet this is also part of what “being a strong character” entails: it doesn’t mean being strong all the time, nor doing everything alone, it also means being able to acknowledge when you need help, and get it, and then win. Sort of.

The romance part was alright (I know, I know, I’m really a tough audience in terms of romance). Philomena’s love interest definitely had flaws, which made him human (and that’s good), but those flaws weren’t a deal breaker for me, unlike all these brooding-assholish “I’m so dangerous so don’t come near me characters”, and he was a decent person all around, who respected Phil’s personality.

The other guy was revolting, to say the least. I hated reading about him—and that is an extremely good thing, since eliciting feelings in a reader isn’t so easily done, at least not when I am concerned. When an author conveys how despicable a character is, in a manner that makes me feel like strangling said character with their own guts, well, that author has done something right.

I do believe the story could and should have been longer, though. As it is, a lot of screen time, so to speak, was devoted to the “rags to riches” part, and by contrast the resolution came too quickly. We barely get to see anything of Iris, Elliot and the others, when their role was important and would have deserved more, without necessarily detracting from Phil’s status as the main character. As it is, it seemed as if the main story was all told already, and that the mysterious/conspiracy part of the plot had to be dealt with because a resolution was expected, yet without being really convinced about it. Had this part been more developed, it’d have been a 4-stars for me.

Yzabel / July 7, 2016

Review: And I Darken

And I Darken by Kiersten White

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

No one expects a princess to be brutal. And Lada Dragwyla likes it that way.

Ever since she and her brother were abandoned by their father to be raised in the Ottoman sultan’s courts, Lada has known that ruthlessness is the key to survival. For the lineage that makes her and her brother special also makes them targets.

Lada hones her skills as a warrior as she nurtures plans to wreak revenge on the empire that holds her captive. Then she and Radu meet the sultan’s son, Mehmed, and everything changes. Now Mehmed unwittingly stands between Lada and Radu as they transform from siblings to rivals, and the ties of love and loyalty that bind them together are stretched to breaking point.

The first of an epic new trilogy starring the ultimate anti-princess who does not have a gentle heart. Lada knows how to wield a sword, and she’ll stop at nothing to keep herself and her brother alive.

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

That was an interesting “retelling”—or perhaps introduction to a retelling?—in that it follows Vlad Dracul, with a “what if he had been a girl?” approach. A princess, in a way, provided the daughter of a voivod without that much power can be considered privileged and powerful. Lada isn’t so much that as decided to make her own life, and prove to her father that she can do just as well as any boy. Perhaps even more. More ruthless, more brutal, more focused on honing her fighting skills. Everything that is unexpected from a woman in that place and time… unexpected, and not really welcomed either.

Wanting nothing more than to earn the love and esteem of her father, Lada is unearthed, along with her younger brother Radu, and sent as hostage to the sultan’s court. Not only does she have to live among the Ottomans she despises, she also has to come to terms with the fact her father basically sold his own children, leaving them at the mercy of his only goodwill: if he doesn’t behave, they are to be killed, plain and simple. What can—and should—a girl do in such circumstances? Thirteen, not fitting with the girls, not considered by the men around her, not even pretty (there are a few “beautiful ladies” in the sultan’s harem who use their looks as a way of gathering their own threads of power: after all, not all wars are fought on a physical battlefield).

This may not be much, but for once, it was good to find a story in which the heroine is presented as “ugly” and it’s all left at that, with only briefs mentions of her tangled hair and such, instead of droning on her eyes and curves and “ugly” features that are actually beautiful when you just pause to think about it. Too many books do that. Well, Lada doesn’t care. She’s not really described, anyway. And even though she’s just as lost as her brother, in a different way hidden behind her fierce attitude, even though she doesn’t know how to raise to her own power, she does come to realise that being a concubine is not how she wants to become powerful. She may have been too fierce at times; however, I didn’t mind that much.

I didn’t care much for Radu in the beginning, as he was quite a crybaby. However, growing up, he evolved into an interesting character when it came to his political shrewdness. While I admit I was a bit tired of his longing after the one person he could never have (because it didn’t seem it’d lead to much anyway), he did realise he also had means at his disposal that could make him useful, and help him find a place among the Ottomans. The reversal of roles between brother and sister, man and woman, “the physically weaker but scheming one” and “the fierce warrior who envisions different ways of doing what needs to be done”, caught in a love-hate relationship with no sibling exactly knowing until the very end who they’re going to choose… that was satisfying.

The romance was… okay-ish. I’m not a fan of love triangles, for starters, so meh. The bond between Lada and Mehmed seemed to be forged more out of friendship and trust than pure lust and swoony “I’ll love you forever” clichés; Lada knows from the beginning she doesn’t want to be part of a harem or even become a queen, as in such a context it would mean her only value is that of an object, like a treaty. However, it did fall into the usual trap of leading the characters to neglect their own goals at some point (staying for the guy, doing everything for the guy…), and this put a hamper on some of their skills: for instance, Radu’s developing ability to play the threads of courtly power gets obfuscated when he thinks and mopes so much about his love interest that he fails to realise who’s in the process of betraying him.

Sometimes I also found the story a bit too slow-paced. This may have been because of the romance and angsting, though: since I don’t care much for that, I naturally tend to find it a bit boring.

Conclusion: While it’s more a 3 to 3.5 stars for me, mostly owing to the love triangle, I still enjoyed the ending and where it seems to lead, and I wouldn’t mind reading the next volume—and see how this part of Lada’s life is going to play out.

Yzabel / June 19, 2016

Review: Famine

Famine: Book One of The Apocalyptics by Monica Enderle Pierce

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

The fate of every soul rests upon his shoulders. His fate rests in the hands of a troubled, young girl.

It’s 1895—the cusp of the Victorian and Edwardian eras—and Bartholomew Pelletier is a gentleman and a warrior. For fifteen centuries he’s endured the depraved appetite of Famine—one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—as she’s consumed his strength and sought to unite with her fellow Horsemen. But now Bartholomew’s chance to imprison her has appeared…in the form of his young ward Matilde.

Chosen to wield the immeasurable power of the Catcher—the one entity that can capture the escaped Horsemen—Matilde is a distrustful child from an abusive and impoverished home. She must be hidden from Famine as she grows strong, learns to fight, and reaches adulthood. But Bartholomew faces a terrible act: For Matilde to become the immortal Catcher, he must gain her trust, and then he must end her life.

By any means necessary, Bartholomew intends to conquer his enemy, but is he willing to sacrifice the one person he loves in order to save mankind?

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

I cannot say I didn’t like this novel, as its main characters in general were sympathetic enough, but for most of it I also felt like something was missing—some action, or a more regular pacing, maybe? Overall it seemed poised between urgency and a tendency to drag, which completely went against the former. In that regard, I couldn’t really be invested

Interesting ideas from the start: the Four Horsemen are dark souls who mustn’t escape the “zone” where they’re imprisoned. One of them, Famine, is already out, and intendes on freeing her siblings. The only ones who can oppose this are a triat composed of the Catcher, the Guardian and the Beacon. Unfortunately, the Catcher is a bit diminished, the Beacon is gone, and the Guardian cannot fully assume his role until the Catcher is made anew. In the meantime, Famine and the corpses serving her are wreaking havoc throughout the world.

So. Interesting, but a bit confusing, too—it took me some time to piece out everything here, partly because some characters, like Bartholomew, assume double roles and are involved in both parties. Even though at some point, things become clearer, at first I wasn’t sure at all what the stakes were exactly. Only when Bartholomew explained them (towards did the end) did it make fully sense.

I also didn’t feel the supposed “urgency” throughout the novel: Famine and her cadavers seemed to find Bartholomew and the others very quickly in the beginning, then lost track… too quickly? And even if letting them go to better trap them afterward, it didn’t make much sense; why not get rid of the enemy, or in this case of Bartholomew’s object of interest (Matilde), as soon as possible? I get the idea beneath, and that the whole arc where Bartholomew sees Matilde grow, and tries to earn her trust, demanded several years to elapse; still, it made the pace too slow in many parts, and the end rushed and unfulfilled in turn.

Side note: The including of French words was definitely odd (we just don’t do that). I know of no French immigrant who will add “oui” and other little words in their sentences when speaking in English—the only words we may add is when we don’t know the English equivalent, and this wouldn’t happen with such simple ones. Same with “chérie”; that’s not a word you’d use to address your ward, rather your wife or a lover (“ma chérie” would be the appropriate phrase here).

Conclusion: Interesting ideas, however the pacing made it hard to focus on the story. 2.5 stars.

Enregistrer

Yzabel / June 11, 2016

Review: Jane Steele

Jane Steele by Lyndsay Faye

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

Like the heroine of the novel she adores, Jane Steele suffers cruelly at the hands of her aunt and schoolmaster. And like Jane Eyre, they call her wicked – but in her case, she fears the accusation is true. When she flees, she leaves behind the corpses of her tormentors.

A fugitive navigating London’s underbelly, Jane rights wrongs on behalf of the have-nots whilst avoiding the noose. Until an advertisement catches her eye. Her aunt has died and the new master at Highgate House, Mr Thornfield, seeks a governess. Anxious to know if she is Highgate’s true heir, Jane takes the position and is soon caught up in the household’s strange spell. When she falls in love with the mysterious Charles Thornfield, she faces a terrible dilemma: can she possess him – body, soul and secrets – and what if he discovers her murderous past?

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.]

I have a weak spot both for retellings and for “Jane Eyre”, so no wonder I’d request this novel. And it turned out to be fairly interesting, although it’s more “inspired by” than an actual “retelling”, and at times my attention waned a little—not sure if it’s because of the book or just me being myself, that is, with the attention span of a dead amoeba. Also, I don’t why, I had forgotten that the novel was set in the 19th century, and was surprised at first that it wasn’t set in some contemporary UK. Dead amoeba, I tell you.

Jane Steele, who incidentally is an avid re-reader of the original “Jane Eyre” story, is, like her heroine, an orphan surrounded with a hostile family that mocks her at best and generally despises her. Her mother being an artist and a laudanum-addict doesn’t exactly help. However, unlike Jane Eyre, Miss Steele early enough takes matters into her own hands by despatching those who are in her way. These aren’t just random murders committed by a psychopath, though, and her victims aren’t exactly goody-two-shoes. Jane is actually trying to protect the people she really loves, not obeying some dark unexplained instincts. And so this brings quite a few questions about whether killing might be seen as “justified” in some cases, or not? After all, so many people kill others in wars, and it’s seen as “justified” and not “murder” because “it’s for your country”… so why wouldn’t “it’s for love” be good enough a reason either?

And there you have it. There are killings in this novel, yet they come second to complex relationships among very different people. Thornfield and his Sikh family. The girls at Lowan School, united in misery through a perverse net of betrayal and friendships disguised as hate (unless it’s the contrary?). Jane and her cousin who could so very well end up raping her. Jane and her mother, and these two and Aunt Patience, because there must be a reason for the latter to despise them so much.

There were a few funny moments, especially when the inspector was concerned—well, I did find them funny, especially with Jane constantly trying to escape him. And I also liked the way assault/rape was handled, as it turns out not so many characters in there blame the lady, and do think instead that, yes, she’s not the one at fault at all.

To be honest, I preferred the first part of the novel, with Jane’s years at school with the other girls. The plot in the second part was nice, but… the pacing and the setting in general were less thrilling (which is too bad, for Sardar and the others provided characters and a setting that screamed “badass”)… not to mention that, in spite of the inclusion of a large cast of Sikh people, in the end what could have broken the typical colonialist/jingoist mould of many Victorian-era stories just didn’t do that. (It’s still about white people finding happiness, and the non-white ones kind of get the shaft.)

As for the romance, of course it was meant to mirror the one in “Jane Eyre”, in a fashion, however I never really felt any chemistry between Jane and Charles: it felt more as if they were destined to end up together because Brontë’s characters did, and not because of their traits as people.

Conclusion: I really liked the beginning, so I’m still giving this book 3 stars. The second half and ending didn’t do much for me, though.

Yzabel / February 16, 2016

Review: The Dark Days Club

The Dark Days Club by Alison Goodman

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

London, April 1812. On the eve of eighteen-year-old Lady Helen Wrexhall’s presentation to the queen, one of her family’s housemaids disappears-and Helen is drawn into the shadows of Regency London. There, she meets Lord Carlston, one of the few who can stop the perpetrators: a cabal of demons infiltrating every level of society. Dare she ask for his help, when his reputation is almost as black as his lingering eyes? And will her intelligence and headstrong curiosity wind up leading them into a death trap?

Review:

[I received a copy of this book through Edelweiss, in exchange for an honest review.]

3,5 stars. A bit slow, but I realised I didn’t mind this: mostly it was due to the depiction of Regency Era daily life for a young noblewoman debuting in society, and considering that this was one of the stakes in the narrative, it felt appropriate.

In 1812 London, with London wary about the advance of Napoleon Bonaparte in Europe, Lady Helen Wrexhall is coming of age under the watchful eye of her aunt and uncle, who brought her and her brother up after their parents drowned at sea. While Helen’s life seems perfect in many ways considering the times and her place in society (she has, after all, a title, fame, and money), her family’s history keeps casting a shadow on her reputation: her mother was rumoured to be a traitor to the crown, and because of that “stain”, it is of the utmost importance that she remains a proper lady in all circumstances. And “proper lady” involves many things that she is not, and not so many things that she is—that is, full of wit and energy, and eager to learn (she is skilled in Latin and natural philosophy, among other things… all matters that were tolerated when she was a “girl”, but won’t fit a “grown-up woman”).

The writing style in general was fluid and the descriptions pleasant. A great deal of the narrative deals with the dichotomy in Helen’s life. She tries to conform to what her aunt and uncle expect from her, but with a certain degree of unease: should she shun her mother like her uncle demands her to, publicly denouncing her as a traitor, or keep her head high and remember the loving mother she only for the first eight years of her life? And all the while, she discovers more and more troubling truths about the world she’s always taken for granted. Truths involving a dark and dashing young lord rumoured to have murdered his wife, a group of people with noble and less noble motives, and perhaps also her mother’s activities.

I liked Helen in general: headstrong but not too stupid to live; willing to discover the truth but also frightened by it and trying to understand what she really wanted (and wanted to do);doing what she could to fit in yet frustrated by all the limitations placed upon her both by society and by her family. Her relationship with Darby was strong, a beautiful budding friendship rather than a simple maid-and-lady relationship, with mutual respect and trust.

The supernatural aspect is fairly “easy” and traditional—creatures living hidden amidst humans, feeding upon them, vs. a group of men and women dedicated to fighting them—but all in all, it worked, and it brought enough dark elements and secrets to keep me entertained and interested. Obviously enough, Helen finds herself embroiled into their activities, and torn between her perceived duties as a lady and her perceived duties regarding those truths she uncovered. Trifling matters? Perhaps, but to be expected in relationship to her social position. Balancing supernatural activities in secret when you’re still dependent on a male parent (who also controls all your money and watches you to make sure you’re not going to turn “evil” like your mother)… Well, it’s not so easy, and more is at stake than just being grounded for a few days. Helen’s struggles to come to terms with what *she* wanted to do—she, not her uncle, or her brother, or her aunt, or Carlston, or even her mother—felt true, and highlighted the general struggles of other women of that era: does one have to remain stuck in a role defined by others, or can she hope to decide on her own life?

I got a bit tired of the overall slowness (and some info-dumping) around the middle of the novel, to be honest—although it fortunately picked up in the last part, there were some places where I wished the plot would move faster, or that the action scenes were more intense (Helen wasn’t exactly a fighter in those, and her being a spectator rather than an actor also impeded the narrative’s rhythm). The descriptions and everyday life would likely be good for a reader wanting to read about those, but not so much if one is in another mood.

I also found that other characters weren’t as fleshed out as Helen, and I wish I could have gotten to know them better. In a way, I’m glad that the romance part was far from being a huge subplot, because I would’ve needed to feel more about Carlston for that.

All in all I liked this story and will gladly pick the next volume… although I hope its rhythm will be a bit faster.