★★★★★★★★★★ (9/10)
I love this book. Period. The Scandal of the Season is one of my absolute favorites because it combines two aspects of literature that are a lot of fun: Restoration-period plays and Alexander Pope. Sophie Gee took one of Alexander Pope most famous poems, “The Rape of the Lock,” that she rightly says is on every undergraduate’s English syllabus, and gave it back to audiences as a historical fiction to explain the story behind the poem.
I remember reading “The Rape of the Lock” and being thrown off by the title. I didn’t expect it to be a satire, because that wasn’t what I had come to expect from Pope. It was nice to be able to laugh my head off while I did my homework. In The Scandal of the Season, the plot goes back and forth between characters Arabella Fermor and Alexander Pope. The novel starts off with introducing Pope as a young man. Gee gives a little of his history and explains why he is different, since it is his differences that put him into the situations throughout the novel. It was quite a different experience to read a piece of fiction that uses a famous poet, who I’ve studied and written about as a character in a novel. I loved seeing what another scholar thought Pope’s young life would be like. I saw Pope’s hopes, fears, loves, hates, dream, and ambitions unfold as the novel goes on.
Apart from the feeling I get from reading about Pope and seeing the story behind his poem come to life, I am emotionally drawn to dynamics between Arabella Fermor and Lord Petre. This is where the Restoration plays come into the fold. There is an element of humor in their relationship, but there’s also an element of tragedy that is common in plays after the Restoration. I want the handsome, cavalier, nonchalant Lord Petre to win over the chaste, haughty, confident Arabella Fermor, who is determined to marry well, like other girls in her position. Luckily for me, I get to read the thoughts and perspectives of both parties. There’s a darker plot behind Lord Petre, but it doesn’t interfere too much with the romance between himself and Arabella. However, I really think that Arabella’s downfall is the fact that she doesn’t take her own family circumstances into accounts. She believes that her beauty and charm will get her everything that she wants, but society in 1712 did not work that way.
The novel does have a tendency to be a little too much like a romance novel at times, but the plot, character depth, and my interest in the subject overcome any problems I have with the romance scenes. Then again, it’s nice to read about people doing what they’re not supposed to, for once. Unlike period novels, both written during the period and more recently, where it’s important to maintain society manners and reputations, this novel takes the part of what some men and women would do for love. There’s emotion here that is lacking in other novels that take place in 18th century England – everything that takes place in England for the most part.
I don’t want to give too much away, because a good part of the fun of this novel is discovering the surprises that come along. Still, I think Sophie Gee found the perfect blend of love, history, literature, and life in The Scandal of the Season.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
A Lion Among Men - Gregory Maguire
★★★★★★★★★★ (4/10)
Wicked. A glorious piece of prose-turned-Broadway musical. A twist on the traditional (albeit Frank L. Baum’s version) belief that the creepy green woman avenging her sister is evil incarnate looking for trouble. Wicked was one of the most interesting books I have ever read, and when I have enough money, I want to try to purchase a first edition. As to Maguire’s other books… I think the word, or guttural comment, that best suits my thoughts so far is “eh.”
I can’t remember if I’ve read Son of a Witch, which probably means that I haven’t, so I can’t pass judgment on it just yet. I did read a non-Wicked novel, Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, and I was thoroughly repulsed. It was the first book I borrowed from the San Diego County Library, and I think that event deterred me from going back to that particular branch for months afterward. If I find a copy of that, I’ll really say what I thought about it.
A Lion Among Men. I started this book with hope. I loved Wicked, so I thought that, since it was the same story world, this book must have some merit. I wanted to like it. Perhaps I was swayed by remembering that the Lion was not my favorite character. He always seemed to blend into the background of Oz for me, but I wanted to find out what Maguire thought of him. The Lion is one of those characters who doesn’t get much detail. For instance, you wonder: why is he cowardly? Why the ribbons? How does he really fit into the story?
I have no questions about what happened, which is something in Maguire’s favor, yet I feel that something was missing. Every event is well-detailed, vivid, imaginative, but I closed the book wanting more. I’m not sure what I wanted, but I was not particularly satisfied. Part of my grievance has to do with the structure of the book. The majority of it is told in a flashback-ridden interview. Flashbacks are all well and good here and there, but there are not meant to hold up an entire novel. The way that Maguire penned this novel made everything easy to follow and complete, but I was frustrated that the plot was going nowhere fast. The story was moving, but it seemed to take forever for a point to be made, or an episode to conclude.
Overall, I didn’t like the Lion, named Brrr. He was rather annoying, and that’s something I’d never thought about him before. There was a little too much Lion-dwelling-on-the-past. Brrr spends so much time feeling sorry for himself, that it gets a little boring after a while. He has every reason to feel sorry for himself, since Maguire paints him as being doomed to being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong people around to see it. I would only ask that some of his self-pity be removed to make way for the important parts of his life. I almost felt that his regret overshadowed the events that led to his continual reputation as cowardly.
I have to admit, though, that I absolutely loved Yackle. She was a character that I was immediately in tune with for some odd reason. She was pitiable, but she would not let you pity her under any circumstance. Yackle is a character who could be some off-target role model in some ways: she brooks no lies, says what she feels is true, and knows what she wants (even if all she wants throughout the novel is to die and be done with it). I never really knew what to expect from her. She was the surprise and excitement that kept me reading until the very last page. The only event that really shocked me about her was how she became blind; Maguire seems content to let me assume that it was old age, so that he can drop a bomb like this one. Her story is just as fascinating, if not more, than the Brrr’s. I would have to say more at this point.
I can’t say that I was entirely disappointed with A Lion Among Men, only that I feel that it could have been better, and it could have been worse. The glass cat was a surprise, but I won’t be in any hurry to read it again, which I will eventually. My last thought is to wonder whether or not there will be another novel to add to the Wicked series, since Maguire seems to have left either obvious and hopeful hints of things to come, or a Lion’s share of promises that won’t be kept.
Wicked. A glorious piece of prose-turned-Broadway musical. A twist on the traditional (albeit Frank L. Baum’s version) belief that the creepy green woman avenging her sister is evil incarnate looking for trouble. Wicked was one of the most interesting books I have ever read, and when I have enough money, I want to try to purchase a first edition. As to Maguire’s other books… I think the word, or guttural comment, that best suits my thoughts so far is “eh.”
I can’t remember if I’ve read Son of a Witch, which probably means that I haven’t, so I can’t pass judgment on it just yet. I did read a non-Wicked novel, Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, and I was thoroughly repulsed. It was the first book I borrowed from the San Diego County Library, and I think that event deterred me from going back to that particular branch for months afterward. If I find a copy of that, I’ll really say what I thought about it.
A Lion Among Men. I started this book with hope. I loved Wicked, so I thought that, since it was the same story world, this book must have some merit. I wanted to like it. Perhaps I was swayed by remembering that the Lion was not my favorite character. He always seemed to blend into the background of Oz for me, but I wanted to find out what Maguire thought of him. The Lion is one of those characters who doesn’t get much detail. For instance, you wonder: why is he cowardly? Why the ribbons? How does he really fit into the story?
I have no questions about what happened, which is something in Maguire’s favor, yet I feel that something was missing. Every event is well-detailed, vivid, imaginative, but I closed the book wanting more. I’m not sure what I wanted, but I was not particularly satisfied. Part of my grievance has to do with the structure of the book. The majority of it is told in a flashback-ridden interview. Flashbacks are all well and good here and there, but there are not meant to hold up an entire novel. The way that Maguire penned this novel made everything easy to follow and complete, but I was frustrated that the plot was going nowhere fast. The story was moving, but it seemed to take forever for a point to be made, or an episode to conclude.
Overall, I didn’t like the Lion, named Brrr. He was rather annoying, and that’s something I’d never thought about him before. There was a little too much Lion-dwelling-on-the-past. Brrr spends so much time feeling sorry for himself, that it gets a little boring after a while. He has every reason to feel sorry for himself, since Maguire paints him as being doomed to being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong people around to see it. I would only ask that some of his self-pity be removed to make way for the important parts of his life. I almost felt that his regret overshadowed the events that led to his continual reputation as cowardly.
I have to admit, though, that I absolutely loved Yackle. She was a character that I was immediately in tune with for some odd reason. She was pitiable, but she would not let you pity her under any circumstance. Yackle is a character who could be some off-target role model in some ways: she brooks no lies, says what she feels is true, and knows what she wants (even if all she wants throughout the novel is to die and be done with it). I never really knew what to expect from her. She was the surprise and excitement that kept me reading until the very last page. The only event that really shocked me about her was how she became blind; Maguire seems content to let me assume that it was old age, so that he can drop a bomb like this one. Her story is just as fascinating, if not more, than the Brrr’s. I would have to say more at this point.
I can’t say that I was entirely disappointed with A Lion Among Men, only that I feel that it could have been better, and it could have been worse. The glass cat was a surprise, but I won’t be in any hurry to read it again, which I will eventually. My last thought is to wonder whether or not there will be another novel to add to the Wicked series, since Maguire seems to have left either obvious and hopeful hints of things to come, or a Lion’s share of promises that won’t be kept.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
The Great Game - Michael Kurland
★★★★★★★★★★ (6/10)
I’m not really sure what to make of The Great Game. It has more plots than I like to keep track of, but at least it makes sense without too much deep thinking. After reading the summary on the back of the novel, along with the subtitle of “A Professor Moriarty Novel,” I thought it would be almost exclusively from the viewpoint of Moriarty. Instead, I got very little from the professor until the last half of the novel, and, even then, there are so many characters involved, that Moriarty is just one of an assembled group instead of the star.
Even the title of the novel really has nothing to do with Moriarty. The “Game” involves a young man who eventually needs Moriarty’s help, but unlike the title of Sherlock Holmes stories (“The Case of …”, or something of the like), The Great Game starts off by immediately misleading me into thinking that Moriarty was a player in whatever the game would turn out to be. I mostly understand that the entire purpose of Kurland’s Moriarty novels is to give a wholly new perspective on who the “Napoleon of Crime” may or may not have been meant to be. I expected a criminal mystery, and that is what I received, but I was hoping that Kurland would keep more to the mystery part, and maybe not make it so easy to know how it all would end.
I believe that overall there are eight major characters that make up four distinct, yet connected plots. They are all related to the “game,” but I was annoyed that Kurland needed so many detailed plots to carry out a mystery novel. I felt as though the set up took a great deal longer than it ought to, and by the time the set up was over, I already knew who the villain was and what the general ending would be. I have always thought that the key to a good mystery was to keep readers guessing until the very last page. There should be hints everywhere, but the correct connections of those hints should be known only to the author. And, The Great Game is a mystery novel, just as Doyle’s stories were all good mysteries. This is probably why I was not terribly impressed with Kurland’s novel.
On the other hand, I very much appreciated Kurland’s inclusion of the languages of Europe. Since the novel took place in multiple locations (England, Italy, Austria, and maybe some others), I was glad to see that the languages of these various places were fittingly included in the dialogues between characters who spoke different languages. There’s a charming little scene where Barnett is trying to pay an Italian working on a barge to bring some cushions, and Barnett spoke no Italian, and the Italian man spoke no English. It highlighted the necessity for world travelers to have at least a little knowledge of the language of the country they intend to visit. I enjoyed the descriptions of the end-of-the-century Europe and the hints of crime-fighting technology to come, too. It’s interesting to read about why fingerprints are useful, and to see that in the late 1800s, no one really know that fingerprints are as unique as the people who have them.
I also think that Kurland was spot on with the characters of Holmes, Watson, and Moriarty, perhaps even improved upon them. Moriarty is as brilliant as usual, but I actually got to see the workings of his mind from his own point of view. Holmes, while a little paranoid about Moriarty that can only be expected, is a (mostly) rational, methodical, logical being with a penchant for wanting to always be right. Watson is just the same as I remember: a little bit dense for a man of the medical field, but as stolid a friend as could be hoped for.
I have convinced myself that, at some point, I should read another of Kurland’s Moriarty novels, because maybe The Great Game just didn’t agree with me. In general, I think you cannot discredit an author on the basis of having read one book. There are exceptions, but I will try to keep an open mind, since an open mind can mean a lot more joyful and pleasurable reading in the future. Good luck to Mr. Kurland at our next meeting!
I’m not really sure what to make of The Great Game. It has more plots than I like to keep track of, but at least it makes sense without too much deep thinking. After reading the summary on the back of the novel, along with the subtitle of “A Professor Moriarty Novel,” I thought it would be almost exclusively from the viewpoint of Moriarty. Instead, I got very little from the professor until the last half of the novel, and, even then, there are so many characters involved, that Moriarty is just one of an assembled group instead of the star.
Even the title of the novel really has nothing to do with Moriarty. The “Game” involves a young man who eventually needs Moriarty’s help, but unlike the title of Sherlock Holmes stories (“The Case of …”, or something of the like), The Great Game starts off by immediately misleading me into thinking that Moriarty was a player in whatever the game would turn out to be. I mostly understand that the entire purpose of Kurland’s Moriarty novels is to give a wholly new perspective on who the “Napoleon of Crime” may or may not have been meant to be. I expected a criminal mystery, and that is what I received, but I was hoping that Kurland would keep more to the mystery part, and maybe not make it so easy to know how it all would end.
I believe that overall there are eight major characters that make up four distinct, yet connected plots. They are all related to the “game,” but I was annoyed that Kurland needed so many detailed plots to carry out a mystery novel. I felt as though the set up took a great deal longer than it ought to, and by the time the set up was over, I already knew who the villain was and what the general ending would be. I have always thought that the key to a good mystery was to keep readers guessing until the very last page. There should be hints everywhere, but the correct connections of those hints should be known only to the author. And, The Great Game is a mystery novel, just as Doyle’s stories were all good mysteries. This is probably why I was not terribly impressed with Kurland’s novel.
On the other hand, I very much appreciated Kurland’s inclusion of the languages of Europe. Since the novel took place in multiple locations (England, Italy, Austria, and maybe some others), I was glad to see that the languages of these various places were fittingly included in the dialogues between characters who spoke different languages. There’s a charming little scene where Barnett is trying to pay an Italian working on a barge to bring some cushions, and Barnett spoke no Italian, and the Italian man spoke no English. It highlighted the necessity for world travelers to have at least a little knowledge of the language of the country they intend to visit. I enjoyed the descriptions of the end-of-the-century Europe and the hints of crime-fighting technology to come, too. It’s interesting to read about why fingerprints are useful, and to see that in the late 1800s, no one really know that fingerprints are as unique as the people who have them.
I also think that Kurland was spot on with the characters of Holmes, Watson, and Moriarty, perhaps even improved upon them. Moriarty is as brilliant as usual, but I actually got to see the workings of his mind from his own point of view. Holmes, while a little paranoid about Moriarty that can only be expected, is a (mostly) rational, methodical, logical being with a penchant for wanting to always be right. Watson is just the same as I remember: a little bit dense for a man of the medical field, but as stolid a friend as could be hoped for.
I have convinced myself that, at some point, I should read another of Kurland’s Moriarty novels, because maybe The Great Game just didn’t agree with me. In general, I think you cannot discredit an author on the basis of having read one book. There are exceptions, but I will try to keep an open mind, since an open mind can mean a lot more joyful and pleasurable reading in the future. Good luck to Mr. Kurland at our next meeting!
Thursday, October 14, 2010
The King in the Window - Adam Gopnik
★★★★★★★★★★ (6/10)
This book puts me in mind of A Wrinkle in Time. It involved complicated science and a weird sort of time travel, but this time, it’s partially in French. The King in the Window follows the story of a twelve year old boy who gets tangled in a centuries-old war between mirrors and windows. It’s a well thought out story, but I would recommend it for readers between ages 8 and 12.
I got this book at a clearance sale, and I assumed that it was just a book out of the fiction section. After reading the first chapter, I realized that I was wrong. While I do think that Mr. Gopnik is a good writer, this novel is perfect for someone who’s just starting to really love chapter books. It’s difficult to write about this novel because I would like to complain about the fact that Gopnik explains more than is necessary, but then I remember that this was meant for children, who might need those explanations. As the book takes place in Paris, there are a few words in French, so it makes sense that their English equivalents are put in, and because it’s written in English, Gopnik explains some turns of phrase that young readers may not understand, such as the way the word “save” can mean “except.”
Other than this, The King in the Window is a rather charming novel. It explores a child’s relationship with his parents, how a child deals with his first crush, how to build confidence, and how to let your imagination take over and help you accomplish the most difficult tasks. It gives a brief lesson in French history, while making me laugh at how that lesson is learned. I also liked how there are hints from the very beginning that tie into the solutions at the end. Gopnik was very clever about the structure of his story. After getting over the feeling that I was too old for this book, it was very enjoyable.
I can't think of anything else to say about, either good or bad. It's a fine novel and, if you have young readers, this would be a good way to keep them interested in books.
This book puts me in mind of A Wrinkle in Time. It involved complicated science and a weird sort of time travel, but this time, it’s partially in French. The King in the Window follows the story of a twelve year old boy who gets tangled in a centuries-old war between mirrors and windows. It’s a well thought out story, but I would recommend it for readers between ages 8 and 12.
I got this book at a clearance sale, and I assumed that it was just a book out of the fiction section. After reading the first chapter, I realized that I was wrong. While I do think that Mr. Gopnik is a good writer, this novel is perfect for someone who’s just starting to really love chapter books. It’s difficult to write about this novel because I would like to complain about the fact that Gopnik explains more than is necessary, but then I remember that this was meant for children, who might need those explanations. As the book takes place in Paris, there are a few words in French, so it makes sense that their English equivalents are put in, and because it’s written in English, Gopnik explains some turns of phrase that young readers may not understand, such as the way the word “save” can mean “except.”
Other than this, The King in the Window is a rather charming novel. It explores a child’s relationship with his parents, how a child deals with his first crush, how to build confidence, and how to let your imagination take over and help you accomplish the most difficult tasks. It gives a brief lesson in French history, while making me laugh at how that lesson is learned. I also liked how there are hints from the very beginning that tie into the solutions at the end. Gopnik was very clever about the structure of his story. After getting over the feeling that I was too old for this book, it was very enjoyable.
I can't think of anything else to say about, either good or bad. It's a fine novel and, if you have young readers, this would be a good way to keep them interested in books.
Monday, October 11, 2010
The Hero and the Crown - Robin McKinley
★★★★★★★★★★ (Somewhere between 6/10 and 7/10)
This book is one of those strange reminders that books do change. The words are always the same, the number of pages stays the same, and the events are the same, but each time I read a book I’ve read before, I find something different, or it makes me think something new about it. I last read The Hero and the Crown maybe four or five years ago. Until I read it this time, I had considered it a very good novel and always meant to go back and read it again. This time, my mind is a little torn about what to say about this book. The story is the same, but this book reminds me that I’ve changed.
This book is one of those strange reminders that books do change. The words are always the same, the number of pages stays the same, and the events are the same, but each time I read a book I’ve read before, I find something different, or it makes me think something new about it. I last read The Hero and the Crown maybe four or five years ago. Until I read it this time, I had considered it a very good novel and always meant to go back and read it again. This time, my mind is a little torn about what to say about this book. The story is the same, but this book reminds me that I’ve changed.
The plot in this book is simply fantastic; I’ve always thought so and still do this time around. Aerin is a brilliant character, and would be an admirable, if unrealistic, role model. She had such strength without being strong, intelligence without being brainy, courage without pride. Aerin just keeps surprising me with every turn of the page. Yet, she’s not alone. Her trusty sidekick is an old broken-down horse with a bad leg, Talat. I’m a sucker for novels where animals are important to the story, and this one just hit home. (Later Aerin gets an army of wild dogs and cats. Yay!) Talat is almost as incredible as Aerin herself. He went from being a horse that everyone had given up on, to the prideful stallion he was in his younger days, despite his weak leg. He found strength where there ought to have been none, and courage where no other horse would be brave. Just two bold characters waiting for an adventure!
Where I get a little iffy about The Hero and the Crown is in the pace. When I read is this time, I felt like the story kept jumping around from place to place, and time to time. There’s a flashback that takes multiple chapters to finish; there are episodes that are so short, I wondered why they were there at all; and the end just seems to drag on a bit. Just when I thought it was done, I turned the page and there’s another two chapters. Normally, this would be awesome, since I usually hate for books to end, but here, I felt it was done, and was a little surprised when I found that I was wrong.
The two events that bothered me the most were Aerin’s two big battles. The first with Maur started off with promise: she was practically running headlong into a battle even she believed she would not survive, and she had no one to help her but her horse. Maybe I expected too much, but I thought there would be a longer battle scene with more triumph on Aerin’s side. In reality, it was very brief, and Aerin won by sheer luck and willpower. Even Aerin’s attitude became depressing at one point. She basically gives up and still keeps fighting; Talat has more hope than she does and he’s running towards a huge dragon! This battle does serve a purpose, as it is necessary later in the story, but I wish it had been as I remembered it.
I had a similar problem with Aerin’s battle with Agsded. This one seemed to be over before it even began, and, again, she won by sheer luck. She had no idea how to defeat him, and a last ditch effort with no thought behind it saved the day. I would have liked some more detail about the time issues involved, and a little more banter between the fighters, but I just assume that to McKinley, this battle was not as important as the results of it.
In the end, everything that I expected to happen happened, because I remembered that it did, and I was satisfied overall. It’s just these little details that I had forgotten that irked me more than I liked. I still like The Hero and the Crown, so Robin McKinley wins another round.
Monday, October 4, 2010
O, Juliet - Robin Maxwell
★★★★★★★★★★ (8/10)
If Shakespeare needed an update, it was found in O, Juliet by Robin Maxwell. She took Romeo and Juliet and brought it to a new generation. Not only does it follow the play’s outline, O, Juliet fills in the gaps of what happened behind the scenes, as well as adds some humanity to Shakespeare’s characters. His Juliet was beautiful and loving, but Maxwell gives us a clue as to how she really felt about her life and some insights into the culture of the time.
It didn’t hit me until about halfway through the novel that the setting was wrong. The original play takes place in Verona, but Maxwell decides to place her novel in Florence. Her decision makes a lot of sense after I thought about it. She introduces the Medici, who would have no place in Verona, and they are essential to her plot. Juliet’s best friend is about to become a Medici, and the Medici family are key to the peace between the warring families. Florence is also appropriate because it was the center of the Italian Renaissance, which explains Juliet’s education and views on life. I especially love the details that Maxwell includes about daily life, the status of women, and the secret nightlife of the city. She is very even about it: she tells about the wealthy as well as the poor. Well, somewhat. I’m sure that the depiction of Viola and Massimo is exaggerated to make their lives seem happy and easy.
Maxwell also does an excellent job of giving you both sides of the story. She tells more of Juliet’s side, but Romeo gets his say. Shakespeare’s is very much told from the position of an outsider who heard everything and wrote a play about it. In O, Juliet, Romeo and Juliet tell their feelings as they happen. I could feel Juliet’s heart beating faster as Romeo came to her balcony. I could sense Romeo’s joy at being with his family again. I sympathized with the despair both felt at Juliet’s proposed marriage to her father’s business partner.
I knew a bit about what was expected of women from wealthy families, but Maxwell really brought to light the horrors that some women faced to help their families. One woman was practically forced to marry a man who treated her badly, and since she had to live with his family, she was ill-treated by her mother-in-law, and there was nothing she could do about her situation. Once a woman married, her family could not really help her. She was expected to have children and endure her treatment, and hope that things would get better with time. Juliet faced the same fate if she could not be with Romeo, and it would have been a much more heart-breaking tale if she had been subjected to a man like Jacopo Strozzi.
This novel was entirely enjoyable, but it was painful to read only because I knew the ending already. Romeo and Juliet had to die. That’s just the way it ends. It’s history. However, that did not keep me from holding out hope that somehow Maxwell would find a way to keep them alive and send them to live out their happily-ever-after in some faraway place. Every page turned brought me closer to the tragic ending that I knew was coming, but when it did come, it was strangely joyful and perfect. It wasn’t nearly as depressing as Shakespeare’s original, and that made me wonder if I was reading the novel wrong. Maybe I was putting in words that weren’t there, so I read the last few chapters again, and it came out to the same ending. And still, I didn’t cry like I do for Romeo and Juliet; I wasn’t upset; I didn’t toss the book away wishing it had ended differently. I liked it. I liked that they died because it was poetic, just as their romance had been.
O, Juliet will now have a special place on my bookshelf, and now I might want to reread Shakespeare’s play to see if I can find any shadow of the passion, emotion, and love that appeared in Maxwell’s novel. Again, I’m going to have to find more from this author.
If Shakespeare needed an update, it was found in O, Juliet by Robin Maxwell. She took Romeo and Juliet and brought it to a new generation. Not only does it follow the play’s outline, O, Juliet fills in the gaps of what happened behind the scenes, as well as adds some humanity to Shakespeare’s characters. His Juliet was beautiful and loving, but Maxwell gives us a clue as to how she really felt about her life and some insights into the culture of the time.
It didn’t hit me until about halfway through the novel that the setting was wrong. The original play takes place in Verona, but Maxwell decides to place her novel in Florence. Her decision makes a lot of sense after I thought about it. She introduces the Medici, who would have no place in Verona, and they are essential to her plot. Juliet’s best friend is about to become a Medici, and the Medici family are key to the peace between the warring families. Florence is also appropriate because it was the center of the Italian Renaissance, which explains Juliet’s education and views on life. I especially love the details that Maxwell includes about daily life, the status of women, and the secret nightlife of the city. She is very even about it: she tells about the wealthy as well as the poor. Well, somewhat. I’m sure that the depiction of Viola and Massimo is exaggerated to make their lives seem happy and easy.
Maxwell also does an excellent job of giving you both sides of the story. She tells more of Juliet’s side, but Romeo gets his say. Shakespeare’s is very much told from the position of an outsider who heard everything and wrote a play about it. In O, Juliet, Romeo and Juliet tell their feelings as they happen. I could feel Juliet’s heart beating faster as Romeo came to her balcony. I could sense Romeo’s joy at being with his family again. I sympathized with the despair both felt at Juliet’s proposed marriage to her father’s business partner.
I knew a bit about what was expected of women from wealthy families, but Maxwell really brought to light the horrors that some women faced to help their families. One woman was practically forced to marry a man who treated her badly, and since she had to live with his family, she was ill-treated by her mother-in-law, and there was nothing she could do about her situation. Once a woman married, her family could not really help her. She was expected to have children and endure her treatment, and hope that things would get better with time. Juliet faced the same fate if she could not be with Romeo, and it would have been a much more heart-breaking tale if she had been subjected to a man like Jacopo Strozzi.
This novel was entirely enjoyable, but it was painful to read only because I knew the ending already. Romeo and Juliet had to die. That’s just the way it ends. It’s history. However, that did not keep me from holding out hope that somehow Maxwell would find a way to keep them alive and send them to live out their happily-ever-after in some faraway place. Every page turned brought me closer to the tragic ending that I knew was coming, but when it did come, it was strangely joyful and perfect. It wasn’t nearly as depressing as Shakespeare’s original, and that made me wonder if I was reading the novel wrong. Maybe I was putting in words that weren’t there, so I read the last few chapters again, and it came out to the same ending. And still, I didn’t cry like I do for Romeo and Juliet; I wasn’t upset; I didn’t toss the book away wishing it had ended differently. I liked it. I liked that they died because it was poetic, just as their romance had been.
O, Juliet will now have a special place on my bookshelf, and now I might want to reread Shakespeare’s play to see if I can find any shadow of the passion, emotion, and love that appeared in Maxwell’s novel. Again, I’m going to have to find more from this author.
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