historical fiction Archives - Page 4 of 5

Yzabel / April 28, 2015

Review: The Singular and Extraordinary Tale of Mirror and Goliath

The Singular and Extraordinary Tale of Mirror and Goliath by Ishbelle Bee

My rating: [rating=3]

Blurb:

1888. A little girl called Mirror and her shape-shifting guardian Goliath Honeyflower are washed up on the shores of Victorian England. Something has been wrong with Mirror since the day her grandfather locked her inside a mysterious clock that was painted all over with ladybirds. Mirror does not know what she is, but she knows she is no longer human.

John Loveheart, meanwhile, was not born wicked. But after the sinister death of his parents, he was taken by Mr Fingers, the demon lord of the underworld. Some say he is mad. John would be inclined to agree.
Now Mr Fingers is determined to find the little girl called Mirror, whose flesh he intends to eat, and whose soul is the key to his eternal reign. And John Loveheart has been called by his otherworldly father to help him track Mirror down…

Review:

(I got an ARC of this book from the publisher through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

Hmmm. A hard one to rate. I liked it, but not as much as I thought I would. Maybe 3.5 stars / between “I liked it” and “I really liked it”?

The setting, characters and writing had a twisted fairy tale-like quality, rather close to what I’d expect from authors I love (like Neil Gaiman). Victorian England, for starters, with a dash of the Egyptian craze. An Egyptian princess whose soul may have travelled to another human vessel via a clock. A clockmaker who makes very specific implements using inhuman means. A group of young boys raised by the Lord of the Underworld, all ending up twisted in various ways. People fighting against death and aging, going against time, ready to whatever it takes to prolong their own lives. All this against the backdrop of the Ripper murders, which are given a different take her.

I liked that the story went in a roundabout way. As I usually say in such cases, it’s both a good and a bad thing. Good for readers like me who enjoy it when a novel doesn’t necessarily follow its characters chronologically, because it’s like a puzzle and it’s amusing (at first, it’s not so obvious why this or that character becomes the focus, but then those subplots gradually tie together). Bad, because if you don’t have a lot of time to focus on the story, it’s easy to feel lost after a while. After all, we aren’t always able to read a book in one or two sittings only… So, I enjoyed trying to piece things together, but I’ll also admit that it wasn’t very easy at times, as I’d somewhat lose my train of thoughts about the novel as soon as something else popped up.

Mr Lovehart was one strange, mad fellow. And the kind of persona that tends to grow on me: crazy, clearly evil in many ways, yet with a heroic bastard streak that went well with his killing antics. And eccentric clothes. Somehow, it just worked.

I also really liked the relationship between Mirror and Goliath, fierce protector as he was. Just like White and to a certain extent Walnut, he provided a strong, honest counterpoint against the depravity of other characters. I’m not so fond of the ending and of what it implied when it came to Mirror and Goliath, though, considering that she “grew up” pretty fast, but that nothing is said about her mental growth. Especially as she wrote her letter, it felt like she was still quite a child in her mind, and so it made things rather… weird, to say the least.

The same goes for Pomegranate’s story, that didn’t tie as well with the other characters’. Or maybe that was just me. Maybe I happened to read her chapters at a moment when I wasn’t focused enough. (See above.) And there were moments when I felt that the characters in general ween’t so well-defined, that they would’ve deserved more fleshing out.

I’d still recommend this novel to readers in search of whimsical settings and characters, with magical realism and enchanting prose.

Yzabel / March 23, 2015

Review: The Raven’s Head

The Raven’s Head by Karen Maitland

My rating: [rating=2]

Blurb:

Vincent is an apprentice librarian who stumbles upon a secret powerful enough to destroy his master. With the foolish arrogance of youth, he attempts blackmail but the attempt fails and Vincent finds himself on the run and in possession of an intricately carved silver raven’s head.

Any attempt to sell the head fails … until Vincent tries to palm it off on the intimidating Lord Sylvain – unbeknown to Vincent, a powerful Alchemist with an all-consuming quest. Once more Vincent’s life is in danger because Sylvain and his neighbours, the menacing White Canons, consider him a predestined sacrifice in their shocking experiment.

Review:

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

The theme of this story was interesting enough, but unfortunately, I never felt it grab me, and found myself at times not really caring whether I was keeping on reading, or taking a break to read something else.

The descriptions and atmosphere were vivid enough. This isn’t glamourised historical fiction: when people pee in the street, they do, and when they’re in a ghastly environment, they are. The author’s writing made it fairly easy to picture the characters’ surroundings and their lives—the sinister manor, Gisa’s daily drudgery, the boys trembling in fear at night at the abbey, expecting to be seized never to return…

However, the characters themselves didn’t leave me with a lasting impression. I liked how they were portrayed with their imperfections (Vincent especially: he started with justifying his bad actions as if they were logical, and I must say I quite enjoy such characters, bordering on sociopathic in their way of seeing the world while being the heroes of their own story). But only a few hours after finishing this novel, I’m already not exactly sure anymore of what they did, nor of what the plot tried to achieve. It took some time to get there, and mostly the protagonists were too passive, with things happening around them, or to them, without prompting a strong enough reaction. Gisa’s passivity was all the more infuriating that she tried to help someone, but so slowly that her repeated thoughts of “wanting to save that person” felt fake (and a mere plot twist to lead to the decisions she made later).

In fact, the characters were here mostly to make the plot happen without giving vibes of being real people, with lives of their own. Their background stories looked interesting, but remained just that: in the background. All that was very weird, because the chapters were short, yet seemed to drag at the same time.

I also didn’t get—still don’t—the necessity for a switch between the first person and third person, complete with present tense. I have no idea why this kind of style keeps popping in novels more and more, and I wish I could see its point, because so far, it’s been more jarring than anything else. It didn’t achieve anything for me, didn’t give me a sense of immediacy, and only made me keep wondering “wait, why are we doing that again”? Which in turn kept breaking my reading stride.

Not an infuriating book, but one that I’ll proceed to quickly forget.

Yzabel / March 2, 2015

Review: A Darker Shade of Magic

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab

My rating: [rating=4]

Blurb:

Kell is one of the last Travelers—rare magicians who choose a parallel universe to visit.

Grey London is dirty, boring, lacks magic, ruled by mad King George. Red London is where life and magic are revered, and the Maresh Dynasty presides over a flourishing empire. White London is ruled by whoever has murdered their way to the throne. People fight to control magic, and the magic fights back, draining the city to its very bones. Once there was Black London – but no one speaks of that now.

Officially, Kell is the Red Traveler, personal ambassador and adopted Prince of Red London, carrying the monthly correspondences between royals of each London. Unofficially, Kell smuggles for those willing to pay for even a glimpse of a world they’ll never see. This dangerous hobby sets him up for accidental treason. Fleeing into Grey London, Kell runs afoul of Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. She robs him, saves him from a dangerous enemy, then forces him to another world for her ‘proper adventure’.

But perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, Kell and Lila will first need to stay alive — trickier than they hoped.

Review:

Sometimes I pick books for the weirdest reasons. Like the colours on their covers: use the black/red/White combo, and odds are I’ll be interested. So when there’s a Black, White, Grey and Red *London* on top of it, count me twice interested. Not to mention travelling between worlds, magic, a feisty female thief, evil twin rulers, and did I say magic?

I can’t exactly remember why I had put A Darker Shade of Magic on my to-be-read list, months ago. But it was probably for all those reasons. And probably because I had really liked the other works of Victoria Schwab I read (Vicious and The Archived). Three time’s a charm? Well, yes. Definitely yes.

Even though you could say that the plot advertised on the blurb “only” starts around the 25% mark, what would have annoyed me in another novel didn’t in this one, because it allowed for enough room to place the context: after all, it’s not only about Lila robbing Kell, then saving his life, but also about the four Londons and travelling from one to the other. Those first hundred pages were not of the filler kind; they were useful, pleasant to read, and gave me to see the worlds Kell goes through on a regular basis. Without this background information, the importance of what he has to do later wouldn’t be as blatant. Without this, I wouldn’t have got to both love and hate the Dane twins (especially Astrid). Without this, I wouldn’t have appreciated Rhy, or dreamt about a London thriving with magic, while another, “duller” one existed somewhere else.

I loved the concepts developed in this series, plain and simple. Opening doors to other worlds. The mysterious, dangerous Black London, and how it became so. Magic drawn from elements, but also from the blood. The ambiguity of the >Antari, whose black eye can’t be just any old coincidence. The resentment born in the streets and the palace of White London, and for a good reason. Though some things turned out much different than what I had anticipated, they did so in ways that made them, in fact, better. Victoria Schwab definitely has a knack for creating interesting worlds.

Kell was pretty likeable. Somewhat too nice for his own good, but characters can’t all be selfish all the time—and he had his guilty little smuggling pleasure, kind of like an addiction. Granted, he got on my nerves sometimes, because of his tendency to lament what may or may not have been his plight (was he really a possession more than an adopted child, or not?). Fortunately, Lila put him back in his place, and this is one of the things I loved about her. She may have jumped into the “adventure” without thinking much at first, but not having much left to lose in her world, nor much to hope for, was this so surprising? She also wasn’t of the damsel in distress kind, displaying a ruthlessness that went well with her upbringing and the life she had led up until now. Lila won’t give you no bull, no Sir. She’ll draw her gun, however. Or steal a sword. Or slap our red-coated mage on the back of his head whe needed (both literally and figuratively, come to think of it). And there’s more to her than meet the eye. Literally as well here. Hee, hee.

While the novel wraps on an ending and not on a cliffhanger, a fair deal of mystery still surrounds the characters, paving the way to a sequel. There’s no way everything got told yet about the four Londons, about what will happen to them, about what Kell and Lila will do next, about their respective pasts (nope, author, I haven’t missed the little clues you dropped now and then). This is perhaps why ADSOM left me wanting, in a contradictory way: part of me wouldn’t have liked the plot to start later, yet another part would’ve happily gobbled down 100 or 200 more pages of daily activities or descriptions about Red London, Lila’s thefts in Grey London before she met Kell, or Astrid’s antics. And Holland probably deserves a book of his own, too.

In any case, count me in for the sequel, hands down.

Yzabel / November 9, 2014

Review: The Paper Magician

The Paper Magician by Charlie N. Holmberg

My rating: [rating=2]

Summary:

Ceony Twill arrives at the cottage of Magician Emery Thane with a broken heart. Having graduated at the top of her class from the Tagis Praff School for the Magically Inclined, Ceony is assigned an apprenticeship in paper magic despite her dreams of bespelling metal. And once she’s bonded to paper, that will be her only magic…forever.

Yet the spells Ceony learns under the strange yet kind Thane turn out to be more marvelous than she could have ever imagined—animating paper creatures, bringing stories to life via ghostly images, even reading fortunes. But as she discovers these wonders, Ceony also learns of the extraordinary dangers of forbidden magic.

An Excisioner—a practitioner of dark, flesh magic—invades the cottage and rips Thane’s heart from his chest. To save her teacher’s life, Ceony must face the evil magician and embark on an unbelievable adventure that will take her into the chambers of Thane’s still-beating heart—and reveal the very soul of the man.

Review:

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

Enjoyable as a fast read, but with a few things that prevented me from enjoying it more. I’d give it 1.5 stars.

Because I like talking about good things first: the magic. Granted, it could have been more developed, but I could still get a good enough idea of the possibilities it offered, and of the restrictions imposed by bonding to one material, and one material only. As Ceony discovered what being a Folder involved, I couldn’t help but try to find uses of my own for it: what could I do with paper, could books and stories be used for something else than illusions, and so on. When something spurs my imagination, it’s always good. Paper magic just looked so beautiful. Moreover, I shall confess to a personal (and somewhat perverse, I think) fascination in general with magic linked to the use of flesh, and there were such magicians in there, which made me go all “Yessss! Here it is!”

Another thing I liked was the tone and atmosphere, somewhat whimsical, somewhat innocent, allowing me to discover Ceony’s new life in a “fresh” way. That was a very pleasant side to this novel. The paper dog was just adorable—just like it was a good example of what Folding magic can achieve.

The second part of the book, in which Ceony had to navigate Thane’s heart, left me with mixed opinions. To me, it was both interesting and boring. Fairly interesting in how it dealt with having to face a person’s love and hopes, but also darkness and regrets, in order to find a way out; but boring because the antagonist had struck me as more aggressive in the beginning, and seemed to take her sweet time in there. And I’m still not sure why exactly Thane’s heart was such a prize. For some ritual? Just out of spite? Maybe the answer lies in the second book. I don’t know.

I had a lot of trouble empathising with Ceony. While I could understand her disappointment at being assigned to Folding instead of Smelting, I also thought her pretty whiny in that regard, considering how lucky she had been getting into magic school for starters. Folding over Smelting every day, girl, if this is the key to a better life than what you could expect otherwise! Fortunately she came around at some point, but there were still a few moments when I wondered why a character shown as hard-working and resourceful (she graduated within one year, the shortest time possible) couldn’t wrap her mind faster around all the possibilities. Sometimes, the magic almost felt “wasted” on her.

As for the romance: not impressed. Unrequited, with too many things about the guy. In the end, I didn’t feel like I had gotten to know Ceony that much, as if she only came second. Though her backstory came out now and then, it was always kept at a distance compared to Thane’s, and it was too bad. The girl had her lot of hard experiences, which should have shaped her… yet they didn’t seem to be part of her as much as thrown in there like an afterthought. The rest revolved about Thane. (And Ceony blushed all. the. time. Alright, alright, red-haired people often have fair skin and I suppose fair skin tends to blush, but it was really tiresome after a while.)

Last but not least, the way the (alternate) historical period was tackled was a bit muddled: for quite some time, I wasn’t even sure when exactly the story was set. Quite a few elements looked and sounded too modern for something that, all in all, was supposed to be the early 1900s, and apart from some names, the place did not exactly “feel” like London at the turn of the previous century, either.

Despite those problems, I’ll still read the second book (if only because I also got it from NetGalley, and think I therefore owe it a review), but I hope I’ll like it better.

Yzabel / October 23, 2014

Review: The Secrets of Life and Death

The Secrets of Life and Death by Rebecca Alexander

My rating: 3

Summary:

In modern day England, Professor Felix Guichard is called in to identify occult symbols found on the corpse of a young girl. His investigation brings him in contact with a mysterious woman, Jackdaw Hammond, who guards a monumental secret–She’s Dead. Or she would be, were it not for magic which has artificially extended her life. But someone else knows her secret. Someone very old and very powerful, who won’t rest until they’ve taken the magic that keeps her alive….
In Krakow in 1585, Dr John Dee, the Elizabethan Alchemist and Occultist, and his assistant Edward Kelley have been summoned by the King of Poland to save the life of his niece, the infamous Countess Elisabeth Bathory. But they soon realize that the only thing worse than the Countess’ malady, is the magic that might be able to save her…
As Jackdaw and Felix race to uncover the truth about the person hunting her, it becomes clear that the answers they seek can only be found in the ancient diary of John Dee’s assistant, Edward Kelley. Together they must solve a mystery centuries in the making, or die trying.

Review:

(I got a copy courtesy of Edelweiss, in exchange for an honest review.)

I should have read and reviewed this book sooner, but as things go, more and more book piled up. As usual, you might say.

The Secrets of Life and Death was an entertaining story, loosely based in part on the half-history, half-legend surrounding the infamous Elisabeth Bathory. It weaves two different narratives, the first one set in modern England, the second one focused on John Dee, told in first person by his assistant Edward Kelley. People who read my reviews should know by now that I’m usually partial to time/space shifts; I enjoyed those here, for they provided enough information while gradually bringing everything together, even though I’d have a few qualms regarding the last installments of Dee & Kelley’s adventure (in the end, I thought they tended to drag a little).

I also quite liked the modern part, two of its characters being “revenants” of sorts: people who should’ve died, but whose death could be foretold. As such, a witch managed to get to them just in time to place them within protective sigils, making them dependent on that magic to keep “surviving”, yet still providing them with what they call “borrowed time.” It’s probably not the most original concept ever, but it’s definitely not a rehashed take on “people coming back from the dead” either. Also, the magic described throughout the novel was intriguing and interesting: the revenants are weak in more than one way, unable to go far from their sigils, and the reasons to create them are both humane and rather selfish. That’s a greay enough area to my liking.

Two things I found fault with, though. The first was the romance, which felt stilted and forced. The attraction between Jack and Felix came too fast (which is why I won’t consider this a major spoiler), and developed in awkward ways. Understandable? Perhaps. However, in my typical way of perceiving things (in other word, “guys, there are more pressing matters of life and death to tackle here”), it didn’t register as absolutely necessary to the story. As for the second point, it’s more minor: I’d just would’ve liked more explanations about how Saraquel managed to speak to Edward (and here I’m not saying more, because that would be a spoiler).

3.5 stars nonetheless, and a story I’d easily recommend: not the best ever, but still worth reading to spend a good afternoon/evening.

Yzabel / October 10, 2014

Review: Jackaby

Jackaby by William Ritter

My rating: [rating=4]

Summary:

Miss Rook, I am not an occultist,” Jackaby said. “I have a gift that allows me to see truth where others see the illusion–and there are many illusions. All the world’s a stage, as they say, and I seem to have the only seat in the house with a view behind the curtain.”

Newly arrived in New Fiddleham, New England, 1892, and in need of a job, Abigail Rook meets R. F. Jackaby, an investigator of the unexplained with a keen eye for the extraordinary–including the ability to see supernatural beings. Abigail has a gift for noticing ordinary but important details, which makes her perfect for the position of Jackaby’s assistant. On her first day, Abigail finds herself in the midst of a thrilling case: A serial killer is on the loose. The police are convinced it’s an ordinary villain, but Jackaby is certain it’s a nonhuman creature, whose existence the police–with the exception of a handsome young detective named Charlie Cane–deny.

Review:

(I received a copy of this book courtesy of NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

I must say something, first, about those “X meets Y” comparisons: publishers, don’t do that. Please. Just don’t. Because while it makes you feel that it’s attracting more readers, the truth is that at least half the time, your people get it wrong, and it doesn’t do good to the book in the long run. Please let books rest on their own merits. Because this one has merits nonetheless, in spite of the misguided attempt to market it as something it isn’t really.

I found myself enjoying this novel for its humour:

“There’s a jar in my office marked ‘Bail.’ If you don’t hear from me by tonight, just bring it down to the Mason street Station, would you? I’m usually in the first or second cell.”

And how it wove supernatural elements (notably fairies) into its narrative. Although some of those occurrences were somewhat predictable, it was the kind of predictable that I wanted to see, that I expected, and that made me smile, not roll my eyes.

Abigail was an enjoyable narrator, somewhat passive at times, but more in a way that involved her getting used to her new situation—and then getting her voice and own wishes heard, rather than accept to remain in the background like a prim and proper lady. While she was a klutz at times, she also acknowledged it with humour, and struck me as a character with room to grow into a strong protagonist. She started off traveling after committing what one might deem a silly youthful mistake, but it’s a mistake I couldn’t really blame her for, because she made it wishing to take her life into her own hands, not remaining hidden behind petticoats.

Jackaby is a very quirky character, one that has a lot of strengths, especially when it comes to perceiving the unseen, the hidden world behind our world, and to act upon such knowledge… with a bit of wit he’s not aware of:

“I assure you, I am a consummate professional. I do not cast spells!”

Yet he isn’t perfect, and can definitely do with an assistant who’ll pay attention to more mundane things. I thought he and Abigail completed each other quite nicely in that regard—and, just as important to me, they weren’t thrown into some immediate romance subplot (I hope they’ll never be). Granted, there is a bit of a romantic interest in the novel, only directed towards another character, and without obfuscating the plot. In such a novel, it would just have damaged everything; I really appreciate that the romance trope wasn’t given more sway in here.

The mystery wasn’t too difficult to solve—I started suspecting who the culprit was early enough—but the dialogue lines, Abigail’s narrative and the secondary characters were interesting and pleasant to read about.

Yzabel / September 12, 2014

The Thief Taker

The Thief Taker by C.S. Quinn

My rating: [rating=2]

Summary:

The year is 1665. Black Death ravages London. A killer stalks the streets in a plague doctor’s hood and mask…

When a girl is gruesomely murdered, thief taker Charlie Tuesday reluctantly agrees to take on the case. But the horrific remains tell him this is no isolated death. The killer’s mad appetites are part of a master plan that could destroy London – and reveal the dark secrets of Charlie’s own past.

Now the thief taker must find this murderous mastermind before the plague obliterates the evidence street by street. This terrifying pursuit will take Charlie deep into the black underbelly of old London, where alchemy, witchcraft and blood-spells collide.

In a city drowned in darkness, death could be the most powerful magic of all.

Review:

(I got an ARC courtesy of NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

When it comes to knowing whether you liked a book or not, some are really hard to place. This novel is one of those.

I really liked its atmosphere: London in 1665, the way its streets and buildings were depicted, how travelling from one place to another was so much different from what we know today, the many people we get to see, all both divided and united in a common fear. The plague is raging, and everyone wants out… or tries to do with what they have, including remedies and protective measures that we would definitely find stupid today, but that must have made sense at some point. The illness is sometimes depicted in really gruesome ways, and it helps enforcing the constant fear, the terror as soon as someone realises his spouse or her friend is developing “plague tokens”. The description of the plague doctor was also very vivd, instilling dread as soon as he appeared.

The interactions between Charlie and Anna-Maria were quite funny at times—he the boy left in an orphanage and proficient in the ways of the street, she a young woman with the manners and expectations of someone born in a good, though impoverished family. At first, I had my fears that
she would be a dead weight, but fortunately she proved she had resources of her own when it came to improvising and remaining strong throughout their journey to find who killed her sister.

However, I thought the plot on too many convenient occurrences (that happened by chance, and not because Charlie or Maria already had the relationships or resources needed). For instance, a character who discovered one of the victims’ corpses later appears to work for another character that Charlie happens to know, and is also a relation of yet another character that Charlie also happens to know. All right, a lot of people had either fled or died from the plague, but surely the world can’t be such a small place all the time? I would have accepted those coincidences easily if they had been of Charlie’s making, but here they were too much on the deus ex machina side.

I also found the last chapters to be a muddle of sorts. Some things happened, yet when I thought about them, I realised that I didn’t see them actually happen in a chapter, and that there logically wouldn’t have had time for them to happen; the narrative should have shown them to the reader, at least. Revelations about the real identity of the murderer left me wondering if I had completely missed something, or if it was just confusing. Same with how everyone was related within the plot. I felt as if everything was dumped on me all at once, too abruptly, and in a way
that didn’t always make sense.

Finally, I wished a few more elements had been explained. What of Charlie’s brother? What secrets did the papers hold? Was there actually some intriguing at the Court, considering how many hints were dropped that the King knew something, or that some of the people close to him were involved in some conspiracy? (Unless this book is the beginning of a series, in which case such information may be revealed in the next installment, but I’m not so sure about that.)

Conclusion: I really liked the depiction of plague-ravaged London in the 17th century, but the plot didn’t cut it so much for me in the end. 2.5 stars.

Yzabel / September 8, 2014

Review: Flesh Failure

Flesh Failure by Sèphera Girón

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

London, 1888: Agatha drags herself from a shallow grave to roam the fog-shrouded streets of the dark city, trying to piece together what happened. Her new friends, the ladies of the night, live in terror of Jack the Ripper, while Agatha persistently searches for what she discovers she needs to stay alive: electrical charges.

As her memory grows stronger, the hazy images from her past come into focus, but questions remain. Do her answers lie in the shadows of the streets, the hidden corridors of London Hospital, or someplace far more frightening?

Review:

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

An enjoyable take on the theme of animating the dead, woven with bits of historical events such as the Ripper’s murders. Agatha wakes up buried in the woods, and has to claw her way out of the earth. Only helped by brief flashes of memory, she goes on her own quest to find out what happened to her, why she recalls herself as different-looking, and who created her.

I’m going to confess to a total lack of impartiality here: I love stories on the theme of reanimated humans, creatures who start out as “monstrous” and have to find their way in the world, for all the questions they raise about our own humanity. This short novel may not have been perfect, but it still made me think about that no matter what. In spite of Agatha’s smell and scars, there were people who natueally came to help, fed her, gave her clothes, let her sleep in their home. They weren’t perfect people either, they had their flaws, they may end up rejecting her after a while, but the fact remains: there’s still goodness in human beings.

The novel deals with a certain kind of symbolism, too. Seven days for Agatha’s “rebirth”. Electricity as a conductor for life, but also as a means of destruction, just like fire can keep you warm, yet burn you to a crisp if you get too close. Though not exceptional, such symbols still remained interesting.

A few things didn’t sit too well with me. First, some editing blips (a character’s name is known before she’s properly introduced) and redundant mistakes (“then” instead of “than”) that became annoying after a while, and were likely not typos. There were also a couple of happenings that I can’t make up my mind about, because they’re a bit too close to Shelley’s story. The encounter with the blind man was one of those. I honestly don’t know if I liked this or not, if it was typical retelling homage or closer to a copy of the original scene. Then there was Agatha’s behaviour: I thought she could have questioned it more, especially when it came to her cravings for blood and how she responded to them. (If looking at Shelley’s story—and there’s no way a reader can’t see the parallels here, they’re totally on purpose—the “monster” started quite innocent, his gradual descent due to his trials. Agatha, on the other hand, seemed to start as a monster already, and maybe she was a little too inhuman, so there wasn’t that much character progress to have. That’d be my major complaint, and why I’m not rating it higher.)

The ending felt too abrupt, as if the story suddenly had to be wrapped up right now. However, it fits with what happens in the last paragraphs, so even though I would’ve liked to read more, writing it that way was actually logical.

Readers who aren’t so keen as I am about this kind of story may not find it more than “OK”, but in my case, it still struck a chord, and after the first slow pages, I got into it fairly easily.

Yzabel / July 13, 2014

Review: The Steampunk Trilogy

The Steampunk Trilogy by Paul Di Filippo

My rating: [rating=1]

Summary:

An outrageous trio of novellas that bizarrely and brilliantly twists the Victorian era out of shape, by a master of steampunk alternate history

Welcome to the world of steampunk, a nineteenth century outrageously reconfigured through weird science. With his magnificent trilogy, acclaimed author Paul Di Filippo demonstrates how this unique subgenre of science fiction is done to perfection—reinventing a mannered age of corsets and industrial revolution with odd technologies born of a truly twisted imagination.

In “Victoria,” the inexplicable disappearance of the British monarch-to-be prompts a scientist to place a human-lizard hybrid clone on the throne during the search for the missing royal. But the doppelgänger queen comes with a most troubling flaw: an insatiable sexual appetite. The somewhat Lovecraftian “Hottentots” chronicles the very unusual adventure of Swiss naturalist and confirmed bigot Louis Agassiz as his determined search for a rather grisly fetish plunges him into a world of black magic and monsters. Finally, in “Walt and Emily,” the hitherto secret and quite steamy love affair between Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman is revealed in all its sensuous glory—as are their subsequent interdimensional travels aboard a singular ship that transcends the boundaries of time and reality.

Review:

(I got an e-copy of this book through NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.)

A strange read, not totally devoid of interest, but that didn’t do much for me, probably in part because its title is definitely misleading when it comes to “steampunk” as a genre, and isn’t representative of what it entails. It’s more Victoriana with a dash of paranormal and alternate history, and references to existing personae (poets, scientists…) and literary works (not always exact—Nana isn’t Balzac’s work, but Zola’s). This book’s title was seemingly what coined the term “steampunk”, though there’s not a whiff of “steam” in there. Sometimes the mind boggles.

As a whole, sometimes it was accurate enough in its depiction of 19th century society, and sometimes it just didn’t work at all.

“Victoria” was amusing enough, if you appreciate a somewhat rompish humour. But its ending was highly unbelievable and improbable, considering the person involved. I just don’t see how anyone in circles of power would consider that a good idea, certainly not in British politics.

“Hottentots” I found mostly boring and disjointed, with no real sense of a plot. I kept reading it because it made fun of Agassiz, and nothing else—the humour helps defuse his racist thoughts and jingoism, which otherwise are pretty cringeworthy and hard to stand. Also, Cesar’s transcribed accent distracted me and threw me out of the story’s flow basically every time he opened his mouth). While there’s a wide variety of accents in languages, such transcriptions in literature are seldom well-done, and too quickly fall in the “too much” category. Not a good idea here, and clearly the story I liked the least (oh, scratch that: I didn’t like it at all). I’d say its only interest was in the satire department.

“Walt and Emily” was more interesting to me, because I know their poetry well enough, could find my marks there, and the planned trip to the Summerland felt at least like there was some plot there, one that fit with the two poets’ works. Style-wise, it was also the most lyrical, and I quite liked this. Unfortunately, it couldn’t really make up for the rest of the book.

1.5 stars.

Yzabel / June 20, 2014

Review: The Bone Church

The Bone Church: A Novel by Victoria Dougherty

My rating: [rating=3]

Summary:

In the surreal and paranoid underworld of wartime Prague, fugitive lovers Felix Andel and Magdalena Ruza make some dubious alliances – with a mysterious Roman Catholic cardinal, a reckless sculptor intent on making a big political statement, and a gypsy with a risky sex life. As one by one their chances for fleeing the country collapse, the two join a plot to assassinate Hitler’s nefarious Minister of Public Enlightenment and Propaganda, Josef Goebbels.

But the assassination attempt goes wildly wrong, propelling the lovers in separate directions.
Felix’s destiny is sealed at the Bone Church, a mystical pilgrimage site on the outskirts of Prague, while Magdalena is thrust even deeper into the bowels of a city that betrayed her and a homeland soon to be swallowed by the Soviets. As they emerge from the shadowy fog of World War II, and stagger into the foul haze of the Cold War, Felix and Magdalena must confront the past, and a dangerous, uncertain future.

Review:

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

I wanted a change of pace with this book; I seldom read Cold War era fiction, which is definitely something I should remedy to. In a way, I got that, and something else, too.

The novel weaves two timelines, 1943-44 and 1956, that end up meeting each other, bringing loose threads together. The author always provided time and location, so keeping track of what happened when wasn’t too hard. I found the beginning of the story a little confusing, and still don’t know if it was because of the writing style, the changing timelines, or if it was just me; after a short while, things fell into place, and it was all right.

As for the historical context, I must admit I know next to nothing to Prague’s history, and I probably missed a few subtleties here when it came to the Infant of Prague and its importance in the plot. On the other hand, I had no problems piecing out those details, and I think the author provided enough information for me to enjoy it without having to stop reading, go learn a few things, and come back later.

Some scenes bordered on the “too much” at times; readers who don’t like that may be put off by those. For instance, Felix and Srut stealing a fire lorry to escape the Germans, then making their exit skating on the Vltava river. I quirked an eyebrow, while grinning at the same time. Part of me was “what the heck?”, and the other part went “nice one, guys!” It was a strange, somewhat elating feeling.

The atmosphere was permeated with a heavy sense of foreboding, with distrust, danger, suspicion, featuring potential traitors, unsuspected allies, and half-hatched plans thwarted at the last moment, always forcing the characters to get back on their feet, to react to the unexpected. However careful their plans, it was obvious they wouldn’t be able to go through them seamlessly, and this added to the paranoia and tension. Sometimes, too, surrealistic descriptions gave an extra edge to the action, especially when Felix was concerned: you never know at first if the people he sees are friends or enemies, real or only in his mind. It reinforced the feeling of something not right going on.

My main gripes with this story:

1) Some of the plot twists rested on characters that are seldom seen or, worse, appear once only. For instance, the nun, or the bishop, who’re mentioned once: when they do their particular deed. Such things don’t sit well with me in general. Here, they made the twists feel contrived, and I think the latter would’ve had more of an impact on me if said characters had been introduced beforehand, even in a couple of scenes only (like Andrea). As a result, those threads confused me, and threw me out of the story a few times.

2) Magdalena’s involvement, compared to Felix’s, felt like a secondary role. I would’ve enjoyed seeing more of her, more of the path she had to walk alone. She seemed to stand in the background, more spectator than actor, and this made her character less “real” in my eyes.

An interesting story all in all, but not exactly an easy read, and one that might have benefitted from a little more development when it came to some of the secondary characters.