I picked this book up after stumbling across the author's blog while scouring the internet for information on Rhodopis. ThAll in all, not a bad story.
I picked this book up after stumbling across the author's blog while scouring the internet for information on Rhodopis. The "original Cinderella" of Greek-period Egypt has a moderately-sized role to play in a book I'm currently working on, and it's darned hard to find any resources on her life -- either the character of the legend or the real hetaera who went by the professional handle of Rhodopis. So I was very pleased to find this novelization of Rhodopis' life.
Hetaera: Daughter of the Gods takes the reader from the famous courtesan's earliest days as a Thracian adolescent through some harrowing times up until her final triumph as the consort of Pharaoh Ahmose II (called Amasis in the novel.) Along the way she meets and joins forces with Aesop (he of the infamous fables), and has...some kind of interaction with Sappho, the famous poet. It's an engaging tour through a fascinating part of Mediterranean and Egyptian history.
I had a few quibbles with the book. I felt the writing style was a little dry and flat for my taste; I would have liked a lot more show instead of tell. And I felt like some plot lines were a bit unresolved. Some, like Rhodopis' interactions with Sappho, felt as if they were leading up to more story...but in the end were not explored any further, and I found myself wondering what the heck happened with that character (and some others.)
On the whole, though, it was a fun story that kept me reading until the end. I'll be glad to check out the author's next book, which is about Semiramis (another woman from history about whom not nearly enough has been written!)...more
Brace yourselves. I am about to commit Egypt Nerd Heresy.
This is the best work of Egyptian historical fiction out there.
Yeah. I said it. The best. IBrace yourselves. I am about to commit Egypt Nerd Heresy.
This is the best work of Egyptian historical fiction out there.
Yeah. I said it. The best. I have found a writer who, in my opinion, outclasses Pauline Gedge in bringing ancient Egypt masterfully, near-flawlessly to life. That's not to say I don't still love Pauline Gedge. Of course I do. It is to say that if you are not currently reading The Maya Papyrus, you are not doing yourself any favors. Welcome the raising of the bar, O Fans of Egyptian Fiction. This is a good thing for all of us.
Coady's astounding epic of a debut novel lacks virtually nothing. Expertly plotted with just the right interweaving of courtly intrigue and high-stakes action scenes, built upon a cast of exceedingly well-drawn characters, and furnished with accessible yet vivid prose and flawless dialogue, Coady has established himself for good and all as the writer to contend with in the ancient-history genre.
True fans of Egyptian history -- particularly of the Amarna period -- will delight in seeing literally every known name in the late-18th roster brought to breathtaking, wholly believable life, with the exception of Mutnodjmet, whom we can plausibly assume enters the scene just after the book ends, and the puzzling exclusion of Ankhesenpaaten-Tasherit, whose absence I could not account for given the seamless way the rest of the Amarnan rogue's gallery were threaded into the tight and compelling plot. Even Ta-Miut gets her moment on the page, and if you know who Ta-Miut is, I guarantee you you'll love this book as much as I did.
It is no spoiler to note that early on in the book the wheels of considerable, generations-spanning intrigue are set into motion by a source so unexpected and yet so entertaining that such actions feel like they might become Egypt-fiction canon: Thuyu. Yes, Thuyu, wife of Yuya, the charioteer. She wields a hefty intelligence and a craving for power that would put Petyr Baelish to shame, and Coady makes her grip over her family -- particularly Aye -- believable enough that her ambition and influence outlive the woman in all too plausible a fashion. As the doomed Eighteenth Dynasty careens toward its inevitable end, Thuyu's descendants behave in increasingly more despicable ways. Just when the reader thinks one or the other will not stoop any lower than the last, the next stoop is made.
The text alternates between a very competently written omniscient third narrator and the first-person account of Maya, here depicted as a son of Aye. Maya is physically bumbling but highly intelligent, earnest, and perhaps the only moral character in the entire book -- certainly one of the only moral males, at least. His goodness is a welcome frequent relief to the increasingly demoralized action of the power-hungry men around him.
But even the men who are difficult to like are beautifully written. Akhenaten earns the reader's deepest sympathy at first, slowly and quietly degenerating into a fiend. Tutankhamun, idealistic and kind-hearted, seems too wonderful to be real, and when the stark realities of life finally pile upon him, his downward spiral is painful to watch. I was terribly moved by both images of Tutankhamun in the toy room, before and after his awful wake-up call.
My one quibble with the book -- still not enough of a quibble to prevent my declaring it the best Egyptian novel extant -- is that the female characters did not feel quite as real as the male characters. Here some greater opportunity may have existed for Coady to flex his writer's muscles, especially in the personages of Nefertiti-as-Smenkhare (spoiler alert!) and in Ankhesenamun as she vied to keep the throne out of her enemy's hands. Thuyu was vivid but not as complex as either Nefertiti or Ankhesenamun, and it would have been impressive to see more of the inner workings and inner strength of either woman, or of both.
But this is a small criticism. On the whole, it is a resounding success of a novel, vivid and compelling, as strong as any in the subgenre of Egyptian fiction -- or as any in the genre of historical fiction.
My one regret upon finishing it is that it will undoubtedly take Coady a very long time to write another. This one was massive, spanning from the end of Thutmose IV's reign to the beginning of Horemheb's -- that's seven Pharaohs, for those of you keeping count. It's long, but difficult to put down, and worth the read. If only Coady could crank out more just like this one at a rapid pace. Fans of Egyptian fiction would never want for entertainment again.
This one gets the highest recommendation from me. If you enjoyed my own Egyptian novels at all, you will go nuts for The Maya Papyrus. Buy it now, in droves, and make Coady the full-time writer we all need him to be, or there may never be another like it....more
Wow, wow, wow. What a tremendous debut novel. This was one of those books that stayed with me whenever I was not reading it, and spookily, continues tWow, wow, wow. What a tremendous debut novel. This was one of those books that stayed with me whenever I was not reading it, and spookily, continues to stay with me after I read the final page. Spooky in a good way -- a way that makes me admire author Laura Rae Amos's craft in a way that is more astounded gobsmackery than mere admiration.
The plot of the novel is as thin and incidental as any literary novel's plot is permitted to be: three people, Jodie, Amelia, and Drew, run into personal conflict when their lives, already deeply entangled due to their shared history, intersect in new and challenging ways. Plot-wise, it's not much. But it doesn't need to be. The great strength of this book -- and it is a very great strength indeed -- is the incredible, subtle, deliberate craft Amos employs in depicting these characters and a cast of supporting characters who feel so real, so human and complete, that I actually found myself thinking about their predicament constantly whenever I had to put this book down. They are so well-crafted that they settled into my brain, occupying the same place my good friends occupy -- the people I have known forever, the people who are always real to me and always in my thoughts, even if I haven't seen them or spoken to them in a long time. You don't read this book; you feel it, and I felt it in a way I haven't felt many books before, with a deep and palpable bond to these people who don't actually exist. To be honest, the experience tripped me out some.
And yet it even feels somewhat wrong to call this book a literary novel, for although it relies entirely on the thoughts and emotions of its characters to carry the reader along, most readers associate "literary" writing with at least some amount of flourish and shazzam. But not once does Amos go over the top in her craft. The writing here is so gentle and assured, so confident, that the only word I can really think of to describe it is classy. It's classy prose, with perfect posture, a firm handshake, and wearing a well-tailored Chanel dress. It needs to prove nothing to you; it knows where it's going, where it's been, and how amazing it looks walking down the street. If Amos is not supremely assured of her own clarity and strength as a writer, she sure as hell knows how to fake it.
As I read the book, I was reminded of two other authors' works. In EWTF's exploration of the baffling complexities of friendship-love and its often hazy intersection with romance-love, it reminded me of several of Maeve Binchy's novels, which I love. In its frank exposure of the inner lives of its cast of characters, showing the reader all of what lurks inside their heads and hearts, it reminded me of Tigers in Red Weather, one of the best books I read in 2012. Yet where Tigers explores the inner lives of people barely clinging to the upper class, EWTF's characters are all middle-class, ordinary, and average. Their struggles, their desires, their sorrows and joys are not one whit less compelling than Liza Klaussman's characters even though they lack the tarnished shine of wealth.
As far as books that explore the strange and tender complexities of every possible variety of love-relationship (romance, family, friend, one-night-stand...you name it), this is the best I've yet read, bar none. And although we are still less than two months into 2013, I have a feeling Exactly Where They'd Fall might turn out to be the most impressive book I read all year.
This is the kind of book -- and the kind of author -- the traditional publishing industry has long since lost sight of. This is the kind of book and the kind of author the traditional publishing industry only wishes it could debut. Fortunately for readers everywhere, authors as skilled and nuanced as Amos have not withered up and died as publishers have turned away from subtler, more artistic works like EWTF in favor of Twilight fanfiction and books by Snooki. They're doing it on their own now, thank all the gods of pixel and pen. I cannot wait for more from Laura Rae Amos. And neither can you; trust me. Based on the strength of her debut novel, she just might be the first indie author to win a major literary award. Get it now while the getting's good, and tell your friends a few years down the line that you read her debut novel before anybody knew who she was, you hipster, you....more
A fun, enjoyable read...Goodreads "I liked it" 3 stars seems the best choice for my rating. More in-depth review coming when I have the time to write A fun, enjoyable read...Goodreads "I liked it" 3 stars seems the best choice for my rating. More in-depth review coming when I have the time to write it...this weekend?...more
I'll give this a middle-of-the-road rating. There are a lot of things to enjoy here, and some things that got in the way of enjoyment.
First, the good:I'll give this a middle-of-the-road rating. There are a lot of things to enjoy here, and some things that got in the way of enjoyment.
First, the good:
Max Overton is a strong writer with a great talent for conveying images clearly to the reader. The balance of exposition, dialogue, and description are perfect, and the descriptive passages are often quite lovely and memorable. Setting is well developed, as are certain characters.
I love the idea of showing the rise and fall of Atenism in ancient Egypt through the eyes of Beketaten, a very unassuming character. I felt it could have been done to greater effect (more on that later), but all in all it's an idea with a lot of appeal. Beketaten is a sympathetic character here, orphaned young and stuck into the harem and forgotten about. She's sensitive, quiet, and observant. Given the nickname "Scarab" under somewhat cruel circumstances by Waenre (Akhenaten), the name sticks and follows her around like a curse, and gives the reader a hint of some of the difficulties she'll face as she grows older and becomes a political pawn in her powerful family.
The things I didn't like:
In a word, the editing.
Overton's writing is so great, it really has the potential to be a powerful, exciting book with the help of a lot of judicious editing. There is a lot of unnecessary extra stuff in this book. Every other chapter follows the actual plot of the story -- the goings-on in the royal family as Waenre/Akhenaten and Nefertiti lead the shift from a Waset/Amun-centered state religion to Akhet-Aten and the Aten. Overton's depiction of the events and people involved are quite interesting, and the opportunity to see them unfold through the eyes of intelligent but meek Beketaten is irresistible. However, the action is broken with alternating chapters in the point of view of random characters showing the daily life of all manner of Egyptian citizens. Clearly the author has done a lot of quality research and he's skilled in conveying so many wonderful details of Egyptian life to the reader. But these interludes touch on the actual story only tangentially, and the characters are almost never revisited, so that it feels more like a bombardment or a distraction, albeit a well-written bombardment or distraction.
I also would have loved to see the entire Amarna story through Beketaten's perspective, as that was the setup at the beginning of the novel. However, the narrative shifts during the Amarna chapters from Beketaten to other major players such as Ay. Ay is an interesting fellow, but somehow the effect of watching Atenism unfold is not as shocking or intriguing when a confident, powerful man like Ay is the POV, compared to a likeable shrinking violet like Beketaten. To shift the narrative away from her now and then somewhat depleted the power and import of the political transition.
I dearly wish for this novel to be re-written, this time sticking to the main plot and leaving off the embellishments of outside stories. It has the potential to be a really great Egyptian historical novel, especially given Overton's strong, descriptive prose. The nice thing about self-publishing is that authors are always free to do a "Take Two." ...more
A fantastically done portrait of royal life in pre-Classical Mycenae, Sparta, and surrounding lands, Helen's Daughter takes the reader on a vivid jourA fantastically done portrait of royal life in pre-Classical Mycenae, Sparta, and surrounding lands, Helen's Daughter takes the reader on a vivid journey through the lives and experiences of some familiar characters of legend...but their humanity is very real.
I have lots to rave about here. It's a little difficult to find the right place to start, so I'm just going to jump in anywhere.
This is the way historical fiction ought to be done: packed with those little details which bring another time and place so clearly to life, yet Laura Gill never overdoes the explanation of the unfamiliar. Narrator Hermione doesn't take any time to explain in asides the house snake, the way a loom works, why there are only a few colors of dyed wool hanging in the drying shed -- these are facts of her life, and she lives her life while narrating her story, and because these little historical treasures are seamlessly normal to Hermione, they need no explanation for the reader's sake. Laura Gill plunges the reader directly into the pre-Classical world, trusting that her readers are intelligent enough not to need any hand-holding or baby steps, and because of that trust between author and reader, the world is exceptionally vivid and believable.
A perfect illustration of what I mean is the moment when Hermione, receiving some bad news, says that she feels as if she's just been stabbed through the heart with some particular kind of weaving pin (I can't remember its exact name now.) There's no need to explain what the pin is like. It must be long and sharp and terrible to pierce a woman's heart, and that's all the reader needs to know to feel the right emotions at the right moment.
While I am applauding Gill's confident writing, let me get up and do a dance of worship over maybe the best use of first-person perspective I've read in a very long time -- and certainly the best I've read in the genre of historical fiction.
Over the past year or two, first person has become the perspective of choice in HF (and in several other genres.) There's absolutely nothing wrong with it all by itself, but too many authors appear to be using it as a crutch. The idea seems to be that if you can replace the "she" and "her" pronouns with "I" and "me" then the story will automatically feel much more intimate and personal and immediate to the character. The stakes will be instantly higher, and the book will be better, just like that.
WRONG.
Any perspective requires more thoughtful writing than that, but perhaps first person is the most difficult to do successfully, because the author has to make it feel natural and plausible that this character is telling the story directly to the reader. If anything, first person can actually distance a reader from a story by inserting an additional wall of obvious narrative voice between the reader and the character's emotions. Add to that the special problem of writing first person in historical fiction: namely, that the author has to make it feel natural and plausible that a narrator from the distant past is talking directly to the present-day reader, and you have a recipe for disaster in the hands of newer or less careful authors.
None of the typical distance issues plague Gill's first-person writing. Because the period detail and the sensory detail are so rich and yet so subtly done, there is no barrier between Hermione's experiences and the reader.
(Authors take note: that has nothing to do with Laura Gill's perspective choice and everything to do with her attention to subtle yet gorgeous description and her commitment to making a historical time period feel authentic to her characters, which in turn makes everything -- setting, conflict, emotions, stakes -- feel authentic to her readers. I wish I could require every single historical fiction author who wants to write in first person to read and study this novel.)
The plot is relatively simple: Menelaus returns home to Sparta with his rescued wife Helen. Their daughter Hermione, now a young woman, has spent much of her childhood being raised by her aunt and uncle in Mycenae while her father is off reuniting the family (and fighting the Trojan war to do it). Now she must re-adjust to life in Sparta and get to know the cold, distant mother she blames for the war. In the process of learning to figure out her mother, who has gone through many of the same tragedies Hermione experiences, Hermione also comes to figure out herself, and grows into a more confident person worthy of the crown she will one day inherit.
There are more subplots, nearly all of them involving the various complex and nuanced relationships Hermione has, whether they be with family members or other people she must learn to coexist and work with. It's a novel very much about the complexity of all kinds of relationships, and the subtlety of their depiction is refreshing.
I especially loved the sweetness of the connection Hermione has to Orestes. It just made me want to say "Awwwww! <3" all the time. Orestes is frankly adorable from the beginning of the book to the end, growing from an extremely lovable if troubled child to a kind, gentle hero of a man who is still capable of incredible violence and who is susceptible to intense tragedy. I was happy to see that Gill has more novels dealing with Orestes' life, and I'll eagerly read them over the next few months.
And because I just remembered how it made me smile, I have to say that I loved the clever and quiet ways Laura Gill made some of the legends from the Iliad so very real: "Medusa" and the golden fleece were tasty little Easter eggs buried in the narrative.
A few things irked me, and made me fall just short of giving this otherwise fantastic historical novel five stars. First, I thought the book started and ended in the wrong places. In my opinion, I felt it would have been a much more powerful opening if Hermione watched the whole Iphegenia "thing" unfold in "real time" rather than recalling it in a flashback a couple of chapters into the book. The scenes where Clytemnestra grieves for her daughter and swears vengeance on Agamemnon were potent, and would have been even more astonishing and vivid had they been scenes in their own right and not Hermione's memories. I also felt like the true wrap-up of the story was (view spoiler)[the wedding between Hermione and Orestes, and that the final bits with her settling into a happy married life and worrying over Orestes' concubine didn't add anything to my sense of satisfaction that the story had come to its rightful close (which I felt clearly with the wedding.) (hide spoiler)]
My final quibble was that I really wanted everybody to stop demonizing Clytemnestra! Everybody in the book had a low opinion of her, and I didn't understand why. I understood why the men despised her, but I kept expecting at least some of the women to find her actions even a tiny bit sympathetic...especially Hermione, who loved Iphegenia. Instead, all the characters, including all the women, accepted Agamemnon's deception and Iphegenia's death without batting an eye, and all of them loathed Clytemnestra for doing the things she did without a shred of sympathy. (Though, to be sure, Clytemnestra has terrible taste in boyfriends.) I think I would have felt more satisfied with the whole Clytemnestra/Iphegenia/Agamemnon thing if a more clear, contextual reason for the characters' reactions was presented. Maybe I was missing the unquestioning devotion all these characters had to the will of Artemis, or something. It just felt to me like a daughter's life ought to come before a husband's need to placate a whimsical goddess so he could achieve his own personal goals.
By the way, none of that is a spoiler. It all happens very early in the book and sets up the rest of the story.
In spite of my few criticisms, this was a really excellent book, well worth reading for any fan of ancient historical fiction. I will definitely be reading more of Laura Gill's books in the future!...more
Four stars for a book I didn't finish? Yep. Read on. It will all make sense.
This book hasn't enjoyed a lot of good ratings from readers, and I think tFour stars for a book I didn't finish? Yep. Read on. It will all make sense.
This book hasn't enjoyed a lot of good ratings from readers, and I think that's because most readers approached it as a western. It lacks the things that make westerns fun: fights, chases, adventure in general. It is much more a literary novel, with beautiful prose and a focus on the internal conflicts of main character Mac as he strives for his various goals in Yellowstone Territory.
The writing is absolutely gorgeous, evocative and memorable. Blevins clearly has great skill with words. And the characters are interesting enough that I ripped through this book at an astounding pace.
When I got to the middle, though, I stopped. I realized that, after one tie-up of all the loose ends with a satisfying if somewhat bittersweet conclusion, that the characters' stories continued on with another conflict, another adventure...making the book more like a saga than a discrete novel. I decided that I wanted to leave them at that midpoint, with that satisfying conclusion, and opted not to continue reading. Maybe there is another fantastic story and ending for them in the latter half of the book. I chose not to find out, feeling satisfied with the midpoint ending.
I gather that Blevins got his rights back to his various books which were previously published by a trade publisher, including this one, and independently re-released them. I have no idea whether the continuation of the characters' story was in the original version of Yellowstone, or whether it's an addition he added, an extension of their tale he always wanted to make. If so, I respect his right to make the addition. But I am keeping their story, in my memory, where I felt comfortable with its ending.
It's a beautiful book, emotional and inspiring. Recommended to those who love American historical fiction, westerns, and literary fiction....more
Okay, so it took me longer to read this book than I thought it would. That's because I seldom read any fantasy and it seldom holds my interest for lonOkay, so it took me longer to read this book than I thought it would. That's because I seldom read any fantasy and it seldom holds my interest for long, not due to any fault in Pale Queen's Courtyard. The book offers up a welcome change: far from yet another iteration of "farm-boy goes on a quest, discovers he's the Chosen One...SURPRISE!", Pale Queen's Courtyard takes the reader on an exciting journey/chase where sympathetic characters exist on both sides, both the pursued and the pursuer.
Set amidst a pseudo-Sumerian world that is brilliantly and subtly portrayed, with flawless editing and clear, engaging prose, this one ranks up there with the best fantasy I've ever read. Very highly recommended!...more
In the late 1800s the United States was only beginning to see a social and governmental trend toward environmental consciousness and conservation. ThiIn the late 1800s the United States was only beginning to see a social and governmental trend toward environmental consciousness and conservation. This novel explores the drama of this shift in American policy and awareness, using the story of a young man, Fin McFaddin, who first hunts birds for their plumage (for the fashion industry -- specifically, women's fancy hats), then eventually becomes a ranger, protecting the same habitats he once over-harvested from the hunters who have now become illegal poachers. Tied in with Fin's story are the stories of his lifelong friend Aiden Elliott, who helps resuscitate the ailing Audubon Society and whose interest in politics helps bring conservation laws into place; Aiden's girl Phoebe; and Aiden's sister Maggie, who has always loved Fin.
There are strong romantic themes in the novel which sometimes, I felt, eclipsed the story I expected to read, which was a conservation/environmental drama, something that leaned more toward literary fiction. Yet the novel lacks the expected "happily ever after" ending found in the romance genre. Also detracting from the story I'd hoped to read was the omnipotent narrative voice, which can be quite effective in many novels but here served to create too much emotional distance from the various characters, particularly Fin, so that when the tragic climactic scene occurred the whole thing felt rushed, impersonal, and lacked the impact it should have had. Because the omniscient narrator never delved deep into any given character (as is appropriate for omni), I found it strikingly difficult to understand and empathize with any of the characters. For a story that relies on the intensity of love, passion, hate, fear, and a deep connection to nature, I question whether omniscient was the best choice. I suspect a close third for each given character would have drawn me closer to all of them and made the key emotional points of the story, particularly the tragic scene at the end, far more impactful. Perhaps due to the narrative distance I felt from the characters, I found them and their stories to be somewhat predictable, so that I was able to see each plot twist coming and nothing was a surprise.
...And that's not a bad thing, necessarily. This book feels familiar because it's full of archetypal characters, and archetypal characters speak to us on a fundamental level. The bad guy who is unequivocally bad (and unattractive to boot); the everyman, bumpkin hero; the plucky female lead who eschews traditionally womanish roles and follows her heart in spite of societal pressures; the irresistibly beautiful and proper woman whom the hero cannot forget. Familiar characters are good because they ARE familiar. Their presence and their very predictability can be comforts in fiction. The archetypes in The Plume Hunter welcomed me into a book that could otherwise have been difficult for me to enjoy with its standoffish narrative style.
All in all, it was a good book, and enjoyable read, but not quite what I expected based on the blurb. It did get me interested in learning more about the plume-hunting industry and the history of conservation efforts in the Pacific Northwest -- a subject I know woefully little about, given that I am really into conservation and I live in the PNW. So it has inspired me to learn more and to care more, and I think that was one of the author's chief goals: to make her readers care. In that, it was entirely successful....more
If you have spent any time at all on writers' forums, you've seen the endless debates over whether women can write convincingly from a male perspectivIf you have spent any time at all on writers' forums, you've seen the endless debates over whether women can write convincingly from a male perspective, and vice-versa. In my long observation, the general consensus seems to be that men are especially inept at writing well from the intimate perspective of a female main character -- the idea being, I guess, that men cannot possibly fathom the intricate emotions and depth of feeling inherently present in the female mind -- an opinion I find both laughable and deplorably sexist, for I don't buy for a minute that men and women are all that different psychologically.
Birkebeiner and Jeff Foltz are delicious pie in the eye of that tiresome and needless debate. Foltz's stunner of a novel opens with an exceptionally well-written birth scene, one of the most intimate and convincing I've yet read, and that close, utterly believable connection to Inga Varsteigsdottir, the primary protagonist of Birkebeiner, never flags or wavers.
Birkebeiner explores a sadly untrammeled territory in historical fiction -- the civil war of medieval Norway, a time when two factions clashed over the throne and the unity of church and country. This is the kind of rich, detailed, fast-paced storytelling historical fiction fans crave, and the kind they won't find in the world of trade publishing, driven now more than ever by trends and the influence of other media. In a sea of endless repetitions of the now yawn-inducing Tudor soap opera and similar been-there, done-that historical fiction themes, more adventurous historical fiction readers have lost track of original and enlightening tales such as Foltz presents. Innovative and original historical fiction has migrated more and more toward the realm of self-publishing and the smallest of the small presses, where intrepid readers can unearth brilliant treasures such as Birkebeiner, if they only dig far and hard enough.
Aside from the undeniable strength and believability of Inga as a protagonist, Birkebeiner shines in its intensity of detail. Foltz clearly knows his stuff, and no detail of life in frigid Medieval Norway is left unexplored, from what the clothing was made from to what was eaten and when and how, to how skis were made, to how travelers in the harshest of wilderness settings found and made life-saving shelter. Yet this detail is never provided in a heavy-handed way. Foltz is more than adept at knotting his ample research tightly into the fabric of an action-packed, intense, emotionally gripping story.
The plot is simple enough: when the opposing Crozier army is on the brink of overthrowing Lillehammer, stronghold of the people's chosen king Hakon, the mother of Hakon's heir (Inga) and two of the king's best soldiers must flee with the child for the safety of a sympathetic army many days away, traveling by ski through a forbidding landscape in the dead of winter. But the story itself is anything but simple. Inga is a complex woman, faced with the difficult choice to stay with the love of her life or risk the elements and pursuit to try to save her son's life. Magnus, the imposter king, could easily have been a melodrama bad-guy, but Foltz instead makes him just as complex as Inga, the unwilling puppet of his father and of a politically powerful but corrupt bishop. Magnus is plagued by his own terrible history and is uncertain of what he truly wants. This makes him a nuanced character, one it's hard to be entirely against. As the narrative switches back and forth between Inga's and Magnus' perspectives, the reader is pulled into the complexity of the Norwegian Civil War.
Foltz' writing is strong and evocative, often lovely and moving. The only quibble keeping this from being a five-star review is his repeated misuse of the noun "wretch" when the verb "retch" is meant. That, and some occasionally misused commas. These are small nits to pick -- nits that can be cleared up with another pass by a good copy editor.
Birkebeiner is not a novel to be missed for any fan of historical fiction, Norwegian history, or Medieval stories. It is exciting and touching, and a welcome relief from the same old tired drivel you'll find the trade publishers vomiting forth onto book shelves near you. At $2.99 for an ebook edition, Foltz is grossly underpricing himself, so steal it from him now before he comes to his senses and realizes he's at least as good a writer as any being promoted by the Big Six imprints, and should be making the same amount of money as they....more
A dark, disturbing, and unforgettably beautiful novel which pays homage to nature and examines man's place in it. There's a good reason why readers keA dark, disturbing, and unforgettably beautiful novel which pays homage to nature and examines man's place in it. There's a good reason why readers keep describing this book as a blend of Cormac McCarthy and Wallace Stegner. It's the most apt description I could come up with, too. Crooked Creek combines the compelling bleakness of McCarthy with Stegner's rapturous imagery of Western nature, and the mixture is surprisingly appealing. I have seldom read a more lovely and unsettling novel. It moves with a quiet power, a subtle terribleness, full of images the reader will not soon forget -- the dead bird in the spider's web opening its black eye, the crate full of apples rotting in the ground.
I am from the general region where this book takes place...more or less. I was moved by how perfectly Werner captured the awful sublimity of Rocky Mountain farming valleys. It made me feel like I was back home again, for better and for worse.
Strongly recommended for fans of McCarthy and Stegner. Just don't expect a happy ending....more
It's been a long time since I've encountered a book that takes such a hold of me that I feel tormented by not reading it. Once my weekend arrived, I rIt's been a long time since I've encountered a book that takes such a hold of me that I feel tormented by not reading it. Once my weekend arrived, I read this book in the bathtub, at the gym on two different pieces of workout equipment (I had to stop for a few minutes while I worked on my arms...have you ever tried to operate a Kindle while lifting weights? Not easy) and while folding laundry. I literally could not stop reading it.
Thank goodness for small presses. Thank goodness for adventuresome souls willing to take a risk on books which are out-there, different, beyond the typical, and worthy of preservation. The Scholar of Moab is not the kind of book that would find its way into a Big Six imprint in this day and age. But that, of course, is not an indicator of quality. As the economy continues to flounder the usual publishers seem to grow more and more conservative in their acquisitions, and while perhaps ten or fifteen years ago a book like this one would have been grabbed immediately by a big publishing house, today there's just no way in hell. Not enough zombies, vampires, or tragic family sagas set on the Asian continent. I am so grateful that Torrey House and other discerning small presses are hunting down and acquiring and offering such under-represented voices and settings in fiction. Few authors are working with the contemporary American West, but Steven L. Peck proves it's a setting full of beauty, character, and mystery.
The Scholar of Moab concerns one Hyrum Thayne, a sincere and curious man who lacks education and worldliness but who manages to impact the lives of several interesting people in his small red-rocks world -- Dora Tanner, a poet who may or may not be unhinged; William and Edward Babcock, a pair of polyglot conjoined twins with a penchant for cowboying; the Babcocks' mysterious sibling Marcel; and the Redactor, the amateur historian who presents their stories in the form of recovered documents, letters, and transcripts of interviews. Bearing up the stories of these unforgettable people is a mystery that keeps the reader hooked until the end: who killed Dora's newborn baby? Or was the baby killed at all?
Interwoven throughout are bits and pieces of Mormon theology and mythology, and the text plays in intriguing, clever ways with the concept of a trinity, a theme that bears out to the poignant final lines of the book.
The writing itself is compelling and confident, and shows a good deal of impressive craft. Even without the Redactor's headings on each document, it's obvious from the distinctive voices which characters are "speaking." Peck is a writer with impressive chops, one to watch and one to follow.
The Scholar of Moab is literary fiction at its finest: evocative, haunting, gorgeous, and more than a little strange. In its weirdness and humanity it reminds me of Geek Love, and fans of that book will certainly love this one. Those who found Geek Love too overwhelming will find The Scholar of Moab to be a softer, more accessible, more lovable version -- but still bizarre and still unforgettable.
An imaginative, weird, and often funny look at what happens when one man dies and finds out the true religion was Zoroastrianism, and he's bound for aAn imaginative, weird, and often funny look at what happens when one man dies and finds out the true religion was Zoroastrianism, and he's bound for a rehabilitative Hell. Don't worry; he only has to stay for a little while, until he's been brought around. Unfortunately God and his/her demons reckon time differently from the way humans do, and his short stay in Hell stretches for a virtual eternity while he searches for the one book containing the story of his life among more books than there are atoms in the universe.
Cleverly, this novella explores the origins of religion and the role of violence in human nature as background themes. The little society which builds itself up in Peck's imaginative Hell is fun and funny, but it certainly has its problems, and goes through familiar evolutions as the eons pass. A novella, though, may not be the perfect vehicle for such a story. In some respects it felt too short, too pat for the larger ideas it contained. I would love to see this scenario redone as a full-length novel, so the characters and setting could be more fully explored, so the ending could feel like more of an unmistakable wrap-up (even considering not much is actually wrapped up; the ending still seemed abrupt), and so the entire Rebecca situation could feel like a more convincing motivation for the narrator.
It's hard not to compare two different works by the same author. So I won't try to avoid that. I recently read and loved The Scholar of Moab, Peck's novel. By comparison with this novella, Scholar was far more engaging and poignant, to the point that I couldn't stop reading it, even at inconvenient times. Longer forms may be Peck's greater strength, though I've only read two of his works, so how can I say for sure? In all, though, A Short Stay in Hell is worth reading. It's quick, smart, and funny, and boy am I glad I'm not in Hell....more
It's been a long time since I've read a midgrade or young adult novel this complex and carefully planned. The Legend of Witch Bane takes its inspiratiIt's been a long time since I've read a midgrade or young adult novel this complex and carefully planned. The Legend of Witch Bane takes its inspiration from old-school fairy tales -- the German kind, the Russian kind -- the real kind, where unspeakably bad things happen to children, where the stakes are higher than just winning the prince's kiss as in the Disneyfied versions recent generations have come to know. In the rich world and characters of Hendrickson's work, fans of real fairy tales will recognize the staple conflicts and settings of the Fairy Book collections of traditional, gritty, hardcore fairy tales.
True, once the Fairy Books were some of the best kids' reading around, but modern kids may not be prepared to tackle the high stakes and terrifying situations of real fairy tales. Hendrickson does an admirable job of spinning the old-school into the new-school, making the realms of the Fairy Books a little more inviting to today's reading kids. But only a little bit. Only just enough not to scare them away.
There are high stakes in this book, believable stakes for all the fantasy setting. I can see children of eight to fourteen or so being deeply enthralled by the power of this story, the bravery of its young protagonists, and the exciting ending. Of course, it's also not to be missed by adults who love a good kids' book.
Also worth mentioning are the absolutely gorgeous illustrations inside the book, which are not only lovely in their own right, but help lend an authentic Fairy Book air to the entire reading experience.
The follow-up to The Year-God's Daughter, The Thinara King starts with a bang...literally...as the volcanic islaWow! Talk about an action-packed book.
The follow-up to The Year-God's Daughter, The Thinara King starts with a bang...literally...as the volcanic island of Thera erupts. Was this a natural disaster, or have Aridela and Chrysaleon done something to anger the goddess Athene? The uncertainties and the adventure continue as the Kaphtor royal family struggles to hold their fragmented population together, and to rebuild what was lost. With Kaphtor weakened, the rich and powerful island is ripe for the plucking -- not by Idomeneus, the father of Chrysaleon and Menoetius, but by a much crueler and more sinister enemy.
The reader is carried along on a rush of action that will satisfy even the most easily bored reader. Lochlann doesn't shirk from subjecting her cast of well-drawn characters to a list of atrocities and surprise deaths that would make George R. R. Martin proud. Her depiction of ancient Crete, a place ruled by superstition and religious fervor, is entirely believable as historical fiction. This book lacks (only slightly) the lovely poetic prose, the sensual description found in The Year-God's Daughter, but it more than makes up with its nonstop intrigue and tension.
I with-held one star for two reasons. Themiste's repetition of prophecy occasionally felt like my hand was being held -- like I, the reader, was being carefully reminded of important events. Lochlann's writing and world-building are more than ample on their own to keep a reader fully engaged; the exposition wasn't necessary, but may have been with a less competent writer at the helm. In places it felt as if Lochlann didn't fully trust her own skill as a writer, when she certainly has nothing to fear in that regard.
And...I just didn't like the sudden change in Menoetius right at the end of the book. (view spoiler)[To have him be so kind and sensitive to Aridela, and then to get all rapey on her, made his character feel inconsistent, and made me lose some of my enthusiasm for him. (hide spoiler)]
All in all, it's an excellent story, well told, that leaves the reader chomping at the bit for the next installment of the epic Child of the Erinyes saga. Highly recommended!...more
Forgotten charts rare territory in the historical fiction genre: It’s centered around medical history, and follows the early career of a healer/nurse Forgotten charts rare territory in the historical fiction genre: It’s centered around medical history, and follows the early career of a healer/nurse during the American Revolutionary War.
Abigail is a woman who has fallen from high society. When her abusive husband is mobbed and killed by Patriots under suspicion of being a Tory, Abigail eventually finds herself homeless and searching for a way to get by in life. A chance acquaintance with two Patriot soldiers leads her to the camp of the American army, under the command of General George Washington. Abigail’s small skill with home remedies affords her a place among the medical tents, where the staff is stretched thin and unable to cope with the disease and injuries of war.
As Abigail’s confidence in her new role grows, she becomes a favorite among the soldiers and eventually develops a cure for a disease which has been raging uncontrolled throughout the camp. Many camp personages are unhappy with her rise to minor celebrity, and despise her for reasons ranging from apparent jealousy to misogyny. Abigail faces perils and enjoys kindnesses as both her enemies and friends increase in number. Eventually she accepts a position working in a doctor’s surgery clinic.
It is my assumption that this is the first book in a series, for the story ends abruptly with little resolution of the open conflicts.
What I liked:
The book is short – a novella – and is full of familiar names from history. Abigail forms relationships with George Washington, his wife Martha, Alexander Hamilton (and there is a hint of a burgeoning romance there), and more important figures from the Revolutionary War. It’s a fast read with occasionally difficult moments, as the author has clearly done her research on medicine during the War. Wrenching details of the treatment of serious war wounds and illnesses are not spared. If more books are to come, the series promises to be engaging and informative, and it’s nice to see a medical historical series taking shape, as such specialty niches are rare in historical fiction.
What I thought could use improvement:
The consistent incorrect use of commas really interfered with my full enjoyment of the story. This could be fixed by having another go at the manuscript with the help of a copy editor, and releasing a new, more polished edition. Additionally, I found many of the characters hard to engage with or difficult to believe. Initially Abigail is callous toward her slaves and that didn't set me up to be favorably inclined toward her, even considering we're dealing with another time and place. And early on, Abigail shows no hint at all of having skill at healing or with home remedies. She seems to pull this talent out of nowhere when it's needed to get her into the camp, and as a result this important plot point felt more like a deus ex machina than a natural progression of the story.
Still, the prospect of a medical historical series is exciting and I enjoyed the fast pace of the book. It kept me entertained through a few lunch breaks at work, and I read all the way to the end, and that's always a good sign....more
**spoiler alert** **Edited review to 4 stars (from original 3) because I hear the book has been re-edited to chase out errors. Yay! Read it!**
Tecpatl **spoiler alert** **Edited review to 4 stars (from original 3) because I hear the book has been re-edited to chase out errors. Yay! Read it!**
Tecpatl is a Toltec warrior hired to act as guard and guide to an expedition of traders into the territory of the Cliff-Dwellers (Anasazi). Tecpatl discovers a ransacked village of Anasazi, all its citizens killed except one, a young woman whom he rescues from rape when his merchant bosses catch up to him and decide to have a little fun with the girl. She is Sakuna, the daughter of an important man at the larger and more powerful cliff village called Great Houses, to which she guides the merchants and acts as their interpreter.
In Great Houses, Tecpatl uncovers a plot by a marauding band of warriors to attack the people of Great Houses when they go into their fields to harvest the year's first crop of corn. He and Sakuna must convince the people of Great Houses that danger is imminent, and must convince them to stand with the strange Toltec outsider to fight against the marauders, or Great Houses risks the same decimation suffered by the other Anasazi village.
The downfall of the Anasazi culture is poorly understood, and author Zoe Saadia's postulation that it was wandering bands with distinct cultural reasons for killing Anasazi citizens rather than merely raiding their resources is fascinating and worthy of further exploration. The novel ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, setting up a continuation of the series that promises to make good on this further exploration. Pre-Columbian native cultures are a rare and welcome setting in historical fiction, and with moments of touching and memorable prose, Saadia is an excellent author with which to make this journey.
However, the book had some serious problems that interfered strongly with my ability to get into the story. Typos and other minor errors will occur in any book. My own book is not entirely free of them, despite a months-long crusade against them. After a while, an author's eyes just start to cross over her own text and she really cannot SEE the typos anymore. However, there is a notable difference between only a few minor errors scattered throughout the text and consistent, distracting errors, and I am afraid At Road's End had many consistent and distracting errors. Most common and most difficult to forgive was frequent disagreement of tense, but spelling errors and punctuation problems were found often (every couple of pages at least) as well as stylistic inconsistency in depicting characters' thoughts versus dialogue (i.e. sometimes thoughts were depicted in italics, sometimes not.)
The good news is that this book needs only a thorough editing to elevate it to four stars. Editing is not the strong suit of every author, so perhaps Saadia can locate a friend who is a whiz at proofreading and who understands stylistic consistency well enough to help her polish up this book and release a new edition with most of its errors hunted down and eradicated. Barring that, hiring a professional editor would be money well spent, as the setting and Saadia's memorable way with words deserve a fairer shake at attracting legions of fans than this current edition will provide.
The nice thing about self-publishing is how easy it is for an author to fix problems and provide readers with improved editions. I hope the author will consider doing so, because her book deserves a better go....more
This large and finely crafted novel is the first in a trilogy which seeks to bring The Secret History of the Mongols, the oldest surviving Mongolian wThis large and finely crafted novel is the first in a trilogy which seeks to bring The Secret History of the Mongols, the oldest surviving Mongolian written work, to life. The Secret History is part historical record, part fanciful myth, and all Genghis Khan – or Tchingis Khan, as he is more properly called, and Temujin more properly still, for that was the name of the real man who rose to legendary greatness on the Mongolian steppes.
The Old Ideal begins with a groundwork in Mongolian myth and religion, then builds to a family history of Temujin, and finally Temujin himself arrives on the scene, a baby born in the midst of war, on the day his father dies. Temujin grows up amid war – not only the war that took his father’s life, but also a war among his half-brothers. From early in his life, the reader can sense that this boy is more than a boy – he has an air of destiny, and courage that few possess. The novel tracks Temujin through his early adulthood and ends with his assumption of the title Khan. Further exploits – including much defeating of other clans – are promised in the next installment, appropriately subtitled “Tribal Brawls.” And, the reader assumes, the feat for which Tchingis Khan was best known, uniting the Mongolian tribes into one great empire, will surely follow in the trilogy’s final installment.
What’s extraordinary about this novel is the way the narrative feels both modern, as if the story is being related by your history-buff friend from 2012, and perfectly historical, as though your friend is also a time-traveler from some era around the middle of the thirteenth century. Bryn Hammond has accomplished a feat seldom seen in literature: Retaining the very distinctive character of her historical source material while injecting it with her own narrative voice; and this feat is all the more remarkable when you consider that this is a long book. My Kindle shows over 12,000 “locations” in the text, which converts to roughly 580 pages of printed text. The enchanting quality of the voice stays consistent throughout.
In part, Hammond has made The Secret History her own by weaving in bits of poetry and prose from other native literary sources who wrote extensively and rapturously on the subject of heroes. According to her author’s notes, Hammond entwined the hero-poetry of the Old English (including but not limited to Beowulf – Aha! I thought that passage was familiar!), the Germanic tribes, and even the Inuit. The result is a hero story that feels at once specific to Tchingis Khan and universal to all heroes everywhere; and the text itself takes on the flavor and rhythm of ancient poetry.
And there’s the rub. Hammond has been so faithful to her source material that a modern reader may find herself stumbling frequently. It is often necessary to stop and “unpack” the meaning of a sentence or a passage, in the same way that a modern reader new to Old English writing must ponder over Beowulf. Often I found myself a bit dazed by the sudden mention of an unknown character or event, only to have that character or event explained in full later in the chapter. The result was feeling as if I’d walked in on a conversation I was never meant to be a part of, and had to “catch up” later on. A bit less faithfulness to the original material could have provided a more accessible reading experience and a tighter flow of plot – but my wish for a slightly more modern reading experience doesn’t lessen my admiration for what Bryn Hammond has achieved in her near-flawless marriage of historical poetry and modern storytelling. Perhaps a good compromise for future editions would be the inclusion of front material alerting the reader to the existence of the extensive glossary at the end of the book. I didn't realize it was there until I'd finished reading on my Kindle!
Thanks to the author’s extensive research and her obvious love for the setting and characters, Amgalant is rich with historical detail. The smallest parts of life on the Mongolian steppe are clearly illustrated – household gods (and how to properly worship them), clothing, what constitutes richness versus poverty, and so much more. Yet the novel never feels like a “fashion show,” as so many historical novels do, nor are these details delivered in the dreaded “info dump.” Hammond has pieced together an education in Mongolian culture, an admiration for epic hero poetry, and the fascinating stories of real people using practically invisible stitches.
While we are on the subject of real people, the richness and depth of character in this novel is as remarkable as the rest. Amgalant: The Old Ideal has a good many characters – I hesitate to declare that there are as many as in your average George R. R. Martin novel, but surely the count comes close. But as much care has been given to the individuality of each and every one as has been given to the individuality of Temujin himself. Often characters are witty, too, so that this novel provided me with several laugh-out-loud moments as I read the snappy exchanges between all these well-drawn characters.
Amgalant is an impressive achievement. Mongolian culture is rarely explored in historical fiction, and Tchingis Khan is usually depicted in few dimensions – that is, as a big scary barbarian conqueror, not as a real man with a real history. Amgalant’s first volume shows much promise that, when the trilogy is concluded, the world of historical fiction will be able to enjoy the history of the Mongols from a different, truer, more satisfying perspective. I look forward to the next book.
Set amongst the mystery of the Minoan Labyrinth and the heart-pounding thrill of the bull-dancing ring, The Year-God’s Daughter is the first volume ofSet amongst the mystery of the Minoan Labyrinth and the heart-pounding thrill of the bull-dancing ring, The Year-God’s Daughter is the first volume of The Child of the Erinyes, a sweeping epic of a series spanning time from the Bronze Age to the near future.
In Rebecca Lochlann’s first novel, we are introduced to Aridela, a young priestess and princess – and to the mysteries of Athene, the inscrutable goddess whose hand guides Aridela’s fate. Aridela is the youngest daughter of the queen of Kaphtor (Crete). She was born under portentious circumstances and has grown up revered and pampered in her mother’s palace. She is headstrong and strangely wise for her age, seemingly born to rule – yet her meek elder sister Iphiboë is the heir to Kaphtor, and Aridela is pledged to a life of celibacy and service to the goddess Athene.
This novel, being the first in a long series, is largely set-up for events to come; yet The Year-God’s Daughter is packed with plenty of action. As the groundwork is being laid for the rest of the series, the reader follows Aridela through her coming-of-age – and follows, too, the lives of the people she touches, whose fates are altered by contact with this young woman chosen by Athene: Iphiboë, Themiste the high priestess, Selene the foreign warrior-woman, Lycus the bull-dancer, and more fascinating characters are subtly moved like pawns on a game board by Aridela’s unknowing influence.
Most notable on the list of characters entwined with Aridela are Menoetius and Chrysaleon, half-brothers and sons of the king of Mycenae. They are sent on a mission by their power-hungry father to discern Kaphtor’s weaknesses so that Mycenae might take control of the rich island nation. But both brothers soon find themselves in love with Aridela…and at one another’s throats.
The depth of historical information in this novel will delight fans of the genre. A surprising amount of history and archaeology has been slipped unobtrusively into the narrative. Lochlann has clearly done an astounding amount of research into her historical setting and culture, yet she never overwhelms the reader with specifics, nor does she lecture. The conveyance of historical facts and archaeological tidbits feels very natural, woven deftly into the dialogs and thoughts of her intriguing cast of characters.
The primary strength of this book is the writing itself, which I can only describe as sumptuous. Lochlann has a great flair for sensory detail and fills her novel with such a wealth of sights, sounds, smells, and flavors that the reader feels absolutely immersed in the world of ancient Crete from the first page. Reading The Year-God’s Daughter is a delicious experience – seldom have I read a historical novel with such a well-drawn setting, and the fact that this book is independently published makes the feat all the more remarkable. The rare grammatical gaffe occasionally pulled me out of the tale, but never for more than a moment – and while I often found myself wishing I understood some characters’ motives better, I have to assume that, since this is the first in a series with extreme scope, more will be made clear as the series progresses. In any case, the luscious sensory prose was more than enough to keep me reading, and has left me eagerly awaiting the next installment.
Note: A free copy of this novel was provided in exchange for an honest review....more
I'm unsure exactly where I come down on this book, so I'm splitting the difference and giving it a nice, safe middle rating.
There were things I enjoyeI'm unsure exactly where I come down on this book, so I'm splitting the difference and giving it a nice, safe middle rating.
There were things I enjoyed and things I did not.
What I liked: it's fascinating to watch the journey out of religion, and for many people/characters, it's also emotionally wrenching to experience that particular journey. This book struck a chord with me since, like the main character Marguerite, I was raised Mormon and eventually left the Church when I was in my twenties. Unlike Marguerite, the leaving was not so traumatic for me, but in my subsequent work with the atheism visibility movement I have met many, many people who suffered trauma far worse than that which Marguerite experiences as they separated themselves from religion. It is an important and very human journey, and a story I like to hear in all its various versions and iterations as often as I can.
What I didn't like kept me from connecting as strongly with this book as I had hoped to do.
First, as Marguerite is a philosophy student, she often couches her understanding of the process in philosophical terms. So often, in fact, that for somebody like me who has only the most rudimentary grasp of philosophy, the frequent reliance on philosophical imagery and reference made the narrative feel too dense and slow-moving, too confusing, and sometimes alienating. Because Marguerite understands herself so well in philosophical terms, the reader risks not understanding her well at all, unless she (the reader) is also very well-versed in philosophy. (As a side note, if you are a philosophy nut you ought to love this book!)
Unfortunately the two distinct narrative styles also forced a great distance between the reader and the main character. In parts, the book is related from a very distant third-person perspective, where the narrator relays Marguerite's thoughts and feelings to the reader in a "telling" sort of way, which has an apropos academic sort of feel to it, but which doesn't facilitate a deeper understanding of an already hard-to-understand character. In other parts, the book turns to a first-person journaling style, which is interesting, but so faithful to the feel of a real journal, with a filtered relaying of information, with a "telling" style, that once more I found it nearly impossible to connect with Marguerite.
There are two points where I felt I really saw Marguerite's feelings, where I understood not only her struggle with faith but who she was as a whole person (and where I saw what author Therese Doucet was capable of when her creative voice was given precedence over the more academic, philosophical writing.) Both were the parts where Marguerite expressed herself in poetry. In both instances, the writing was colorful, lyrical, an poignant, and allowed me to see, in just a few short lines, what was really going on with Marguerite -- what was really inside her. After the second poem, Marguerite says in her journal, "Sadly, like me, my poems are never opaque enough and lack all subtlety." But that's exactly what readers need in order to connect to a person undergoing such a radical, painful transformation -- not the filtration of narrative distance, but the immediacy of real emotion, no matter how raw or frightening that emotion might be.
All in all, it was an enjoyable book, with its too-accurate depictions of Mormon campus life and the pall of depression such expectations can throw over a young person. Marguerite's constant crushes on usually unobtainable guys were charmingly silly, and very endearing. I remember being a young Mormon woman struggling with how to reconcile my faith and my attraction to various young men. I liked those parts of the book, and I was happy to see that Marguerite does end up with a promising relationship in the end. I just wished I'd understood all the emotional nuances of the path that took her there better....more
Libbie Hawker
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