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★★★★★★★★★★ (9/10)
Who ever said that unexplained rumors weren't fascinating? This novel delves into the "what if" of Arthur Dudley, the man who claimed to be the son of Elizabeth and Robin Dudley. His claims were never validated, but the rumor still circulates to this day as to whether he spoke the truth. The Queen's Bastard uses what little information was known about Arthur Dudley, and the known events of Elizabeth's life to piece together what might have happened.
Like any good story, Maxwell begins at the beginning. She starts with Arthur explaining the purpose of the memoir he is writing, and why he believes his words to be important. This also helps to explain who he is in terms of his relationship to the royal family and England. Then the story jumps to the history of Elizabeth's and Robin Dudley's decades-long affair, that everyone at court seemed to know about. While the private-life events are fictional, they do make Elizabeth a much more interesting monarch. She is always described as stubborn and determined, but Maxwell wants to show that this applied to how she lived her personal life as well as her public life.
As the novel continues, Arthur grows up. Maxwell shows his whole life, from birth to age 25, which is when all record of him disappears, although she does speculate what happened to him after that through his trip to the Americas. He grows up in a completely different world than the one his parents live in. Arthur is adopted as a younger son to a family that owns a dairy, and later, take care of a chase park (where hunting parties can hire horses to chase down deer and other animals). He has a remarkable amount of fortitude, even from a young age. He bears things that a child would not usually put up with. Despite his royal birth, he is subject to the pain, poverty, and difficulties of the life of a commoner: nothing in his life is certain, and he must take the best out of every situation.
Arthur is an amazing character, although a little unbelievable. His is a life meant to be fantastical because of the secrets surrounding his past, but some of the situations Maxwell puts him in are too much to swallow. One example is that he is made a spy, and though he has no training, no experience, no way to know what he is doing, Arthur is a genius. He has been able to acquire information no one else could. Also, he decides to become a soldier and ends up in the company of William of Orange. Not only does he meet William, he becomes recognized by him, and even becomes commonly known to William's family. This is highly unlikely for a young man from a chase, with only knowledge of horses to recommend him, to accomplish. Yet, it happens in this novel, and I take these plot points as just part of the larger story. They are important, but I was more interested in how Maxwell would portray his meeting with Elizabeth and Dudley.
In the meantime, between snippets from Arthur's memoirs, Maxwell puts the reader in the court, but with an intimate view of the happenings of Elizabeth's private life. I got to see the behind the scenes arguments, the passion, the anger, the intrigues, the inner workings of Elizabeth's mind and why she ruled as she did. Maxwell gives this perspective for almost 30 years of Elizabeth's life, from when she assumed the throne, to after she meets Arthur. It is a tragic life because of all of the obstacles she needed to overcome, both as Queen, and as a person. She dealt with foreign powers, betrayals from those she trusted, and the deaths of those she loved.
Through it all, Maxwell keeps up a steady stream of interesting scenes that kept me turning the pages as if my life depended on it. I even loved that in Arthur's memoirs, Maxwell added in the occasional misspelling, strange punctuation, or odd word choice that might have happened during the time period. I had never heard this rumor about Elizabeth having a secret child, who later came back into the picture, but I was enchanted by Maxwell's imaginative story about what might have happened. Like all good historical mysteries, there will never be a way to prove or disprove this scandal, but it's a little bit more fun to have stories like The Queen's Bastard to imagine "what if."
★★★★★★★★★★ (7/10)
Harsh, depressing, morbid, yet oddly uplifting. Simply put, this is a story about a prostitute, a doctor, body-snatching, and cholera in 1831. It's a stark retelling of the vast differences between the lower and upper classes of England, and the fears that each had about the other. It's a story about survival, death, hope, and resignation. And it's confusing as hell.
Gustine, our heroine, is a fifteen-year-old prostitute with a baby. She works in a pottery factory by day, and by night, she wears an elaborate blue gown (rented from her landlord) and roams Sunderland for hopefully higher-class men who will pay her well. She's a strange person, because she doesn't seem to really care that she sells her body, as long as she has a place to live, and can provide everything her child needs. Gustine seems to have no idea of love beyond the feelings she has for her child, even when it looks like she might be developing a crush on a young doctor. It turns out that she simply wants to use him, and Gustine sinks down in my regard for her.
The doctor is a completely different case. He is trying to escape his past; a past haunted by the knowledge that he and his teacher were unknowingly involved in one of the worst murder cases in Edinburgh. They purchased the bodies of murdered bodies, killed by two men, Burke and Hare, who killed anyone they wanted because they knew they could sell the bodies of those they murdered. It was the doctor, Henry Chiver, and his teacher who purchased these bodies, and encouraged the criminals to continue on their spree. Henry left town, to end up in Sunderland, where he tried to become a teacher as well, but was too terrified to produce a body with which to give his students practical knowledge. He was deeply afraid that his past would come back and destroy whatever life he had made for himself. He was only too right.
All through Gustine's and Henry's personal tribulations, the Cholera Morbus is threatening the lives of everyone in Europe. This is where the struggles between rich and poor take center stage. The rich (educated, wealthy, arrogant) believe the disease is real and deadly, and are willing to take whatever measures are necessary to prevent its spread. The poor (uneducated, striving to survive, and underprivileged) believe that the disease is something either made up or created by the rich to kill the poor. Characters like Whilkey Robinson, Gustine's landlord and pimp, are convinced that Cholera Morbus is nothing to fear, and refuse to submit to any sanitary precautions the Health Board set forth or suggest. By the time the story is over, most of Robinson's lodgers are dead from the disease, and many from the rest of the town as well.
This feels like a story about the educated vs. the uneducated, science vs. belief, morality vs. immorality. The classic struggles that face cultures around the world are what drive the plot. What makes this difficult to read is the setup. There are breaks in the novel where the narrative voice changes completely, and it's never quite clear who is speaking. Time jumps around as well in places, and it would take me a few pages to figure out what had happened. Still, it was a very engaging novel, and full of little historical tidbits (such as Napoleon's death, and the global spread of this strain of cholera). It was painful to read about such a debilitating disease, but I learned about the way the study of medicine was perceived, in contrast to how most people see it today.
The Dress Lodger was an adventure in the past, consisting of body-snatching, a deadly illness, and the ways of life in a seaside city. The ending had a weird ray of hope tossed in, that came from a thread that was woven since the beginning, and made a depressing plot seem not so terrible. Given enough time to recover from the terror of an epidemic, which I've never had to experience, I would probably read this again. It was a great find from the library, and kudos to Sheri Holman for a great read.
★★★★★★★★★★ (4/10)
First thoughts: "Wow! A alternate telling of Emma. This should be good."
Thoughts now: "Didn't really have all that much to do with Emma. Even Mrs. Goddard doesn't sound the same, and she's just repeating events I've already heard before."
This is Jane Austen's great-great-great niece retelling Emma from the point of view of Mrs. Goddard, the mistress of the school that Harriet attends, through a series of letters between Mrs. Goddard and her recently remarried sister in London, Mrs. Pinkney. I found the story Mrs. Pinkney was telling to be a great deal more interesting than the gossipy version of Emma that Mrs. Goddard gives.
Through Mrs. Goddard, Austen-Leigh gives us the behind-the-scenes reactions of characters that are important, but not as vital as Emma herself. Mostly, we hear about Harriet and her emotional turmoil, Mrs. and Miss Bates (who talk of almost nothing but Miss Fairfax), and the local gossip about what's going on. This Mrs. Goddard is just as motherly, but not as elegant, as she is in Emma. I find myself wondering why she's trading idle gossip, other than that her sister asked her to. Austen-Leigh tells a great deal about the daily goings-on of a school, such as cleaning, problems with the students, teacher issues, and disputes between the cook and the baker, but I didn't really learn any more about Emma. I guess I was hoping to find out something new, and was disappointed because it wasn't there, and maybe wasn't even meant to be there.
Mrs. Pinkney, on the other hand, is very engaging. She's a widow who recently married her late husband's friend out of convenience. She was left with little money, and decided that the safety of a new marriage would be her best option. Little does she know that she's in for a lot of work with her new husband, Mr. Pinkney. It's fascinating seeing how they work out their misunderstandings and form a bond I never expected when the novel started. Mrs. Pinkney's "adoption" of young Charlotte is also exceedingly interesting. She is supposedly an orphan and at the mercy of a great-aunt who cares nothing for her. Charlotte was sent to a school in London, with the expectation that when she turned 18, she would find a position as a governess. Mrs. Pinkney makes Charlotte her protege, and Charlotte leads a life full of fun, happiness, and love. Her other adventures in the novel, I'll let you discover for yourself.
I don't think I'll read this book again. Which is convenient because I borrowed it from a library. It just didn't have the same level of involvement as Jane Austen's Emma. I can't really expect this, but if anyone is going to try to write a sequel, retelling, or reinvention of an Austen novel, they need to try a bit harder than Joan.
★★★★★★★★★★ (9/10)
On the cover of Mistress of the Revolution, the Associated Press is quoted as saying that this novel is "Definitely a contender for one of the best reads of the year." Usually I don't believe the comments from book reviews because they are written by only one person; you only get one opinion, and it's usually not in keeping with my own view of a book. However, this one was spot on. I was so eager to finish this novel because I wanted to know how it would all end, and I was not disappointed.
Mistress of the Revolution centers around Gabrielle de Montserrat, the daughter of impoverished aristocrats in the French countryside. It starts when she is about eleven years old and ends when she is forty-six. As the author states in the historical note, Gabrielle is entirely fictional, but I found myself sharing her hopes, dreams, fears, and sorrow. Her story really brings French history to the forefront by giving a "first hand" (not really, because she wasn't real, but still) account of what life would have been like for the aristocracy during such a time of turmoil. The story of the French Revolution is widely taught, and most students learn of the fates of King Louis and Marie-Antoinette, but little is said about their supporters, their enemies, or those caught in the middle. Gabrielle is one such person caught in the middle, and as a woman at this time, she was mostly without any way of saving herself from the Revolutionary horrors.
Delors reveals the atrocities that existed within the nobility, those that were to come during the Revolution, and after. Gabrielle survived it all, but her journey was one that was filled with sadness, dashed hopes, and only fleeting moments of happiness. The novel begins with Gabrielle being dominated by her mother and brother, to the point where they deny her the only this she wants, and force her into a life of misery and physical pain. She is passed from one authority figure to the next, and when she can finally be happy with the one person she loves, this too is taken from her, leading to her life in exile (from where she begins this novel of her memoirs).
I couldn't help but cry at the end at Gabrielle's final revelations, when she admits truths that she concealed, even from her family. By the last page, I can assume that Delors means Gabrielle to be content with her life, but she is not happy. If anything, she regrets what happened, but does not give herself the pain of wondering "what might have been." Gabrielle accepts that nothing can be changed, but she writes that "I have the memory of love, and I have hope." That is enough to keep her moving forward, hoping that her future, or her death, will bring her happiness at last.
I thought that this book was amazing. I haven't read any historical fiction about French history, so I learned a lot about the events the Revolution (the big things such as the execution of the monarchy, as well as other historical figures and dates were true). Yet, what I got through to me most of all were Gabrielle's relationships. For the most part she was lucky, but Delors tried to show that by being honest, maybe a little backward, and true to yourself, you can make the best of friends, and keep your head. Gabrielle is a true heroine, despite her fictionality, and I'm glad to have known her in these pages.
★★★★★★★★★★ (8/10)
As much as I have loved this book in the past, I love it in different ways now, as well as severely dislike parts of it I hadn’t noticed before. Anne McCaffrey is one of the great world builders of fantasy fiction. The planet of Pern is so detailed and thought out, that one could imagine it to be a real place, and all the characters based on historical persons. Part of this is undoubtedly because McCaffrey was so prolific with her Pern novels, but it is easy to fall into the beauty and social interactions that she develops even within the first novel.
After the first read, I was enchanted with the level of sophistication of the society on Pern. There was a distinct hierarchy, but McCaffrey finds characters who are able to break through barriers and triumph under the most desperate circumstances. Lessa, for instance, goes from being an orphaned girl working as household labor, to being one of the most powerful people on the planet through a combination of determination, luck, and pride. Jaxom, a young man being groomed as a Lord Holder (something like a governor, but more directly involved with the people he is responsible for), creates a potentially hopeless situation at a young age, grows up in a loving but oddly affectionless home, and through his ability to carry on regardless of his chances, helped turn the tide of knowledge and opened an unknown part of the world. Granted, these are extraordinary circumstances, people, and places, even for the series, but somehow, they fit and make Dragonriders that much more enjoyable.
I believe that I first read this book (a collection of three novels really) probably when I was in early high school. I hadn’t learned much about literary criticism or cared about what made a good novel. I also hadn’t taken any classes that delved into feminism or gender hierarchy, so I found Dragonriders to be unbelievably fantastic. It’s only after finishing my degree and gaining a better understanding of the socio-politic nature of humans, and a better understanding of my own beliefs, that I now have problems dealing with certain aspects of the culture McCaffrey created on Pern.
Issue 1: Pern is a horrendously male-dominated planet. Women are constantly subjugated and forced to do as their fathers, brothers, or leaders bid them. This idea rankles simply on the basis that it is a situation that used to exist in our own world, but is something that modern society has worked hard to end. In a different part of the series, Menolly is another example of how rigid and strict the male-female dichotomy can be. It is also apparent that women are married off at their family members discretion, regardless of the girl’s or woman’s own desires. For instance, Lord Groghe was said to have wanted Jaxom to have married one of his daughters, whether Jaxom or the daughter were interested or not. In Dragonflight, Lessa, who lived at the mercy of cruel estate managers, triumphed over them only to now take orders from dragonriders (almost all men) who may or may not know what kind of instruction and help she might need. She could not ride her dragon, take up some traditional responsibilities, or go anywhere outside the Weyr. When reading this section, I got the impression that she was under some sort of house arrest.
On the subject of dragons, women are only allowed to bond to female queen dragons, even though there are four other colors. Men are the privileged ones who may bond with green (also female dragons, which is odd), blue, brown, and bronze dragons, and only bronze dragon riders can take the leadership of a Weyr (where the dragons live). Mirrim becomes an exception to the rule, but not after a great deal of argument against it.
Issue 2: The hierarchy of the planet itself. My initial impression was that Pern was a lot like feudal Europe, without worldwide rulers, but with dragons. It was intriguing, until I began to notice the living circumstances differences, as well as how the upper classes treated the lower. Again, this was something that I picked up after I started to take classes specifically about class distinction and discrimination. The Lord Holders, Craftmasters, and Weyrleaders basically were at the top of the hierarchical food chain and could do practically anything they wished. Craftmasters tended to be conservative in their actions, but Lord Holders and Weyrleaders (even other dragonriders) had the capacity to be greedy, cruel, and overreaching.
There are several examples in Dragonquest and The White Dragon, and a good number of them involve “Oldtimer” riders and the older generation of Holders, who would believe that their greed was within their own rights. Most everyone else on Pern was subject to the orders and whims of these powerful people. Some leaders were kinder and more understanding that others. Some examples of the better ones would be Fandarel, Robinton, F’lar, D’ram, N’ton, and Asgenar. Some examples of the worst of the greedy and power-hungry would be Fax, Meron, T’ron, T’kul, Kylara, and Mardra. The latter list cared nothing for the people around them, the ones they protected, or the ones who cared about them. (How anyone could care about Fax or Meron, I’ll never know.)
Issue 3: (Not a real issue, but one to be wary of when reading an early edition): TYPOS. There are so many times in the edition of The Dragonriders of Pern that I have where it’s not only typos, but characters are misnamed, or renamed, or mistakes with places, objects, crafts, circumstances are carelessly made. I could probably point out over 75 such errors in this collection. That’s about 70 too many for my taste. One such error that really made my brain cry was the replacement of the name T’ton in Dragonflight with T’ron in the subsequent novels. This made no sense whatsoever and I could only attribute it to the author changing her mind, or some typist having freakishly odd dyslexic and forgetful typing errors.
In spite of these personal issues of mine (which is exactly what they are, personal), these three novels make up one great adventure and successfully explore human (or Pernese) relationships as well as what happens when a civilization has to start from scratch. It’s interesting to read about what McCaffrey thinks would happen if a group of humans had to leave Earth to live somewhere else, and how they would adapt to that situation. Dragonflight, Dragonquest, and The White Dragon encompass a delightfully emotional romp through a fantasy world that, once you get past the obvious gender and social issues, might become a favorite on your bookshelf.
★★★★★★★★★★ (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.
★★★★★★★★★★ (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.
