War affects everyone involved in different ways, and sometimes it doesn’t just stop with those around at the time.

Publisher: Harper Press (Harper Collins)
Pages: 329
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-00-728637-9
First Published: 2009
Date Reviewed: 21st July 2010
Rating: 3/5

A few years after WW2, Claire moves with her husband (a marriage of convenience) to Hong Kong, setting herself up as a piano teacher for a local family. She starts to become acquainted with the community yet always remains on the outside. At one of these parties she meets Will, an Englishman employed by her own employers, and the two begin an affair. But Will is constantly distant and there’s something amiss about the Chen family. As the story unravels we are introduced to another tale – Trudy Liang ten years earlier, a beautiful woman who once called Will her lover.

Before reading The Piano Teacher I’d gone for a good few months without historical fiction and the setting of this book and the summer-read aspects meant that I read it incredibly fast. But speed-reading isn’t so much a positive thing with this book – you find yourself reading it quickly because there’s nothing to peak your interest. It isn’t until much later on that it begins to show promise. A big factor in this is that it is mostly era-driven. It’s the war that is paramount here. Lee has written her book akin to the way Victoria Hislop did a year earlier in The Return, it’s very much a case that the characters serve a purpose as vehicles – they are simply there to aid the explanation of the wretchedness of the war. However, unlike Hislop, who used a number of characters to explain different situations, Lee has focused on specific features, she mentions the bombing but focuses on the predicament of the civilians, for the most part the foreigners (Americans, Britons, Europeans) who were stuck in Hong Kong when the Japanese took over. The information is fascinating and horrid in it’s own right but as the focus is on the war you can’t help but feel disconnected from the characters for whom there are parties and a little love but not much else to recommend them to your memory.

Then it all changes. From era-driven the narrative nose-dives straight into the characters, suddenly they are everything and the war is still important but more the cause, it’s no longer in the spotlight. Where Claire was the only character available for comment there is now a crowd of willing participants.

By themselves the characters are fabulous. Claire begins a possible racist and ends as perhaps the most open-minded of the lot. It takes a while to warm to her and even then sometimes you want to change your opinion, but you can’t because you know that she knows of her flaws and that she’s struggling to work through them. Will’s aura is enticing and his distance and pain understandable, but maybe he could have handled things differently. The Chens remain unlikeable and plummet further as the story goes on, and Trudy, though but a memory, is an enigma.

Because the different aspects are so disjointed it’s easy enough to close the book at the end. You feel sad for what’s happened but because you weren’t acquainted with the characters for long enough it’s difficult to feel their plight beyond the general understanding that what happened was awful. Part of this can be explained by taking into account the book’s title – it doesn’t really say what the book is about as Claire (the piano teacher) is very much apart from the rest of the story even when she meets those involved. She develops into a strong character and the end suggests she would be an interesting person to read about further – only of course you can’t because the book has ended. Claire made a few people talk about the issues, but nothing she did caused anything that wouldn’t have happened anyway because although she gains information she never uses it. This book could have easily been called something in reference to Will, Trudy, her cousin, the Chens, or the war. It is so unspecific that yes, I do believe it impacts upon your enjoyment because you open the book having ideas of a completely erroneous nature.

Lee provides ample time to the different nationalities. She writes about a country ruled by foreigners but never slanders anyone, and when it comes to the invasion she simply details, never condemns. Her characters get on with everyone. There is still racism about but in most cases the characters have already rejected it.

Lee’s writing is lovely, not incredible, but noticeable. She prefers some words at strange times however, for example, “brackish”: “The sea was green and brackish” – the word is like a crack in an otherwise perfectly smooth pavement, it doesn’t fit in with the rest of her writing. The chapters move between tenses and while Claire’s flow well it seems that when it came to Trudy, Lee wasn’t sure how she wanted to write it. There are a couple of times when both styles are used in the same chapter and you find yourself reading the same sentences over to try to work out exactly what you’re reading.

I think that if you’re looking for a breezy summer read with a bit of substance you’ll be satisfied but in my personal opinion The Piano Teacher does not fill the criteria for a good political historical novel.

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A dedicated coming-of-age story more detailed than most and set against the backdrop of a boarding school.

Publisher: Black Swan (Random House)
Pages: 478
Type: Fiction
Age: YA
ISBN: 978-0-552-77684-4
First Published: 2005
Date Reviewed: 12th July 2010
Rating: 4.5/5

Prep is being been re-published by Transworld on 22nd July 2010 and features a stunning cover that conveys the atmosphere of the story well.

Lee went to boarding school at fourteen after doing all the research into schools herself and being drawn in by dreamy-looking prospectuses. But on formally joining the school she realises that all those images of happy-looking students aren’t quite true to life, at least not in the way she expected them to be. Perhaps being a scholarship student makes it difficult when everyone around you seems to have a money tree in their room, but as Lee comes to understand herself better she finds that most of her issues are solely to do with herself. Prep is set some time in the late 1980s or early 1990’s – around the time mobile phones first came into use, when cassette tapes outdid compact discs, and young people listened mostly to their parent’s music collection.

I came to choose Prep as my first Transworld challenge read due a similarity in situation between Lee and myself, and to my pleasant surprise I found that not only could I relate to Lee in that afore-mentioned way but in many others; a great deal of what she experiences are things that young people face as a whole so I will discuss these in detail.

Firstly however, I’m going to talk about the setting. Sittenfeld presents us with Ault boarding school and it’s as picture perfect as Lee’s preconceptions suggested. Reviewers have likened the book to Sweet Valley High and Sittenfeld’s writing to Salinger and Plath – I myself think of Mallory Towers, The Templeton Twins, and St. Trinians, the books I knew of as a child thanks to the older generation, which I enjoyed myself. Although there is a lot of time given to Lee’s personality there is enough here to enjoy the book for the school’s sake, in other words if you’re wanting to read something akin to any of the books I’ve just mentioned you won’t be disappointed. A great deal of the first third or so of Prep is dedicated to student life as Lee settles herself in the secluded world she’s entered.

“What am I writing?”
All of us fell silent, a loaded, electric silence. “I know where you live,” Alexis suggested.
“I see you when you’re sleeping,” Heidi said.
“I smell your blood,” Amy said. “And it smells” – she glanced at Madame – “tres delicieus.”
“We will not bring the French into this,” Madame said.

The catalyst for everything Lee experiences is her nervousness, her inability to accept the fact that she is as good as everyone else and that really no one’s out to get her, she’s just overly paranoid. It’s said that if you want something bad enough you’ll get it and that applies to negative things too – Lee is a normal person but her personal worries and issues sometimes lead her to open up cans of worms that hadn’t previously existed. Of course as soon as this happens she revels in her false belief that she was right all along, which is sad. You feel you want to root for Lee, especially when she finally gets a boyfriend, but you can’t help feeling frustrated at the way she handles things.

Nevertheless this frustration is good – because it’s the frustration that our parents quite likely felt for us, so now of course we, as readers, through Lee, can pick up on times when we chose the wrong path in our own childhood – and it’s also good for readers around Lee’s age (while she is at Ault – the story is told as a first-person recollection years later) because they might be able to pin-point where their own lives are the same at this present moment and do something about it before they have time to look back with regret.

Sittenfeld deals with loneliness in a way that is subtle but completely effective. Clearly she remembers her own school life well and has applied plenty of her own knowledge in order for her readers to relate to this fictional character seamlessly. Lee thinks she’s lonely and that she has no friends but in fact there are many people she meets and gets to interact with, including one of her class’s most-sought-after boys. Most people feel alone at some point but what Sittenfeld has done is to hint that all that loneliness put together, as in everyone’s loneliness, makes for a happy and full life. You have to be willing to accept invitations when you get them rather than be put off by the person’s own loneliness. We all get lonely but somehow we’ve developed this mindset that if a social activity is proposed to us by another person, and that person is themselves lonely, then our taking up of their offer is shameful and embarrassing. In these moments of possibility, of not being alone, we are unwittingly scared by something that has already consumed us – we are, in effect, scared upon seeing a reflection of ourselves in another. But it always looks worse when you see it in someone else.

A lot of the lesser-acknowledged issues observed in the book are conquered via short dialogues and quotations. Consider the following:

Little’s blackness made her exist outside of Ault’s social strata. Not automatically, though, not in a negative way. More like, it gave her the choice of opting out without seeming like a loser.

This is true for many different social groups, but it hasn’t been fully realised yet. When you’re on the outside looking in, and even sometimes when you’re on the inside, you don’t always see the advantages to being uncool when it’s related to something that’s difficult, nay impossible, to change.

In such proximity to Cross, I stared at the floor, feeling clammy and unattractive from having been outside with Conchita.

This quotation backs up the idea of us being lonely and put off by other’s loneliness as well as explaining where exactly Lee’s place is at Ault. Lee actually straddles both “cool” and “weird” social groups but she doesn’t understand that. As in Little’s case, Lee is in a position of advantage but her mentality towards being seen as uncool means that this isn’t realised. The quotation also explains that as soon as people make it higher in society (Lee was talking to a popular student) they like to pretend that their less high acquaintances (usually the ones who got them there in the first place) don’t exist to them.

This leads into:

There are people we treat wrong, and later, we’re prepared to treat other people right.

We hurt people, dump our friends, but these relationships give us practise for next time – and we’re probably practise for other people ourselves anyway.

And lastly, in relation to the wider-world:

“Why do you think so few students receive financial aid?”
“We don’t add diversity to the school”

Be sure that race is another issue featured heavy in Prep and that again, Sittenfeld knows how to tackle it efficiently.

Something negative I would like to point out, in relation to Sittenfeld’s writing, is her reference to “spazzing out”. It’s the kind of thing many authors say but in Prep it is particularly bad because not only is Sittenfeld using the term but she’s saying that if you spaz out you can’t have boyfriends. Considering all her other political commentary, this is very poor.

Aside from the disability awareness issue however there is little else to find fault in. Sittenfeld’s writing style is on the whole beautiful and the words slide across the page effortlessly, though she should have considered more her word order at times. I’m not sure if it’s a new American convention but sometimes her sentences are clunky and read like gravelled driveways rather than smooth ones. Lastly, many of the names she uses are… not names. Horton is a surname, not a first name; Gates is the term for the doors that separate a person’s home from the road, and Cross is the mood you’re in when your sister yanks your hair out.

Speaking of Cross and who he is to Lee, I should talk about the romance in the book. There’s not much of it, but it’s in keeping with the rest of the story and with Lee’s personality. The finer points are explored in keeping with Lee, so that although the period of intense focus on it is specific to a situation others may not have experienced, it suits the book well.

It often seemed to me that boys preferred to be by themselves, talking about girls in the hungry way that, I suspected, they found more gratifying than the presence of an actual girl.

In addition to Lee’s crush, sexuality as a whole is explored, the damning consequences of taboo lifestyles and stress brought out into the open. While they may be less of a taboo today and widely accepted an explanation is apt and warranted here and it reminds you how different we are as a society now.

Something that isn’t nice about Lee is when she feels unable to be there for her friend who’s just been elected prefect. Lee doesn’t want to be there for her because she’s worried about having to reassure her. Her jealousy at finding out that her friend is popular and the fact that she (the friend) has been given something that would’ve changed Lee’s own life makes her unable to be happy for her. This is the extreme result of Lee’s nervousness and it puts everything else into perspective. In truth Martha is the same as Lee herself and in having her present Sittenfeld shows us the other side of the equation, what you can do if you’re aloof from others to gain respect, what Lee could have done. Martha is Lee’s opposite in the ways that it matters to this story.

In essence, Lee is a regular teenager who doesn’t take opportunities and then wallows in her self-pity. In essence she’s not simply a misunderstood character at all, but what she is is a reflection of real life for many people and an illustration in how we should conduct ourselves. She is a good main character because we can relate to her either all the way through the book (and see her flaws) or some way through and then react with distaste to how she handles situations and be able to use this distaste to set ourselves on the right path.

Prep is a fantastic look into life as a teenager, focusing in depth on issues that many other books cover only as a subplot or general part of a character. In writing it Sittenfeld has provided the reader with something not unlike a manual on how to get yourself out of unwanted situations and how to deal with social interactions when you’re just finding your feet amongst your peers. It doesn’t really matter how old you are, there’s something here for everyone and everyone could benefit from reading it whether they actively apply it’s “teachings” to their life or not.

I received this book for review from Transworld Publishing, Random House.

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None yet

Do to others what you would have done to yourself – or you may find yourself in a terrible predicament.

Publisher: Phoenix (Orion Books)
Pages: 259
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-753-820483
First Published: 2005
Date Reviewed: 11th June 2010
Rating: 2.5/5

If you wish to read this book you may have to search for it, for it appears to be out of print. Articles on Julith Jedamus are nowhere to be found.

A fallen princess comes into possession of the diary of the woman who slandered her name. She presents this diary, unedited, to the reader, whom she hopes will understand how awful this woman was. In 10th Century Japan two women sought to gain the heart of one man. The writer of the diary, our narrator and the one pushed aside, tells of her plight to get him back after he was sent into exile for damaging the emperor’s reputation and the virtue of the high princess. She spreads rumours to hurt her rival but comes to fall in love with another; however those old rumours are not easily shifted in a world where thousands can hear them.

It took this reviewer ages to get into the book. Up until half-way through it’s easy to get distracted from it, even if you’ve nothing to be distracted by because essentially you’re thrown into the middle-end of a story. It bypasses the tale of how things were, going straight into the time after the main event – the triangle between the man and the two women – has happened rather than telling you about it as it happened. All there is to read about, therefore, is the aftermath. How is one supposed to feel for a character they haven’t spent time with? An important factor in a book is being able to relate to the characters in some way, whether that’s with fondness, an understanding, or dislike. This fundamental concept has been left out by Jedamus to dire effect. We have a situation where the title of the book is perfect for it’s contents, but for all the wrong reasons.

The distance between reader and character is a pity because the writing errs on the side of beauty – with nothing to keep your interest you’re not going to recognize the poetry as many times as you should. However, this said, Jedamus has made too much of her favour towards metaphors anyway. I can’t be the only one coming up with images of a writer sat in silence, unmoving at her desk, desperately searching her mind for anything, anything, that she can turn into a metaphor. I put to you two quotations, the first an example of goodness, the second perhaps the biggest clanger of all:

My needle flashed back and forth through the blue silk, like a wasp darting amongst a bed of delphiniums.

His limbs as pale as peeled willow.

Where did Jedamus find the idea for the second one? She has written a sentence that will boggle most of her readers because let’s face it, how many people will have seen peeled willow? It’s a good metaphor for the time period perhaps but it’s too specific, niche, for us today.

Going back to the plot of the story and the content that should not have been missed, the reader is thrown straight into the “action” without sufficient background knowledge. “Action” is put in quotations because in actual fact there is no action, not of the generally presumed kind (although if by “action” you read “sex”, well yes there is a bit of that). Most of the story is taken up by the spreading of rumours, rumours that you couldn’t care less about because, as said, there’s no reason to feel anything for the characters. You may feel a little dislike for the narrator but while that may have been the aim of the fallen princess who presented the work, it doesn’t seem to be Jedamus’s aim. Certainly she wants us to look at both sides and see the cruelty produced by these sides, but she seems to want us to be forgiving too.

The plot eases up where there is dialogue as it gives you something current to focus on. The scenes between the narrator and her new lover are especially easy to read simply because this man is a new acquaintance of hers and thus their story is brand new, the one thing the reader is given that started in the book itself. Finally, as the lover gains overall importance and the narrator begins to forget her malicious ways the plot turns into something you look forward to reading. The narrator seeks redemption, and even if it’s too late there are from then on reasons to become emotionally involved.

The romantic scenes are in the main short and passionate, without being graphic. Sex is mostly simply alluded to (though there are a few descriptions) and more emphasis is placed on feelings and emotions.

The ending is interesting: the princess, in a postscript that suggests what happened afterwards, concludes it, but not fully – there is room for your own conclusion. Whether the end is satisfactory you’ll also have to decide for yourself.

Quite honestly it’s not difficult to see why this book is out of print. There is not enough explanation of culture and too many heavy references. Jedamus would make a stunning poet, non-fiction author, and even commentator, but as a novelist her future is unlikely to get any better. This is the story of a woman cast into hell by a man who soiled the reputation of many women; a woman so hurt she saw it necessary to drag others along with her. It has a good message but takes far too long to find it.

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…And then you sit down to some Chick-Lit for some light relief – and find it to be anything but.

Publisher: Harper Collins
Pages: 422
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-00-718036-3
First Published: 2005
Date Reviewed: 26th March 2010
Rating: 3/5

Just to make it clear: the title refers to rules, policies. It isn’t a statement akin to “love’s awesome!”

Thea believes in true love conquering all, knights storming castles to rescue the princess, and also – perhaps wrongly as she later considers alternatives – sparks from the start defining which men are the ones worth going for. Alice doesn’t mind love, in fact she likes it very much but tends to get diverted by the physical and has never chosen the right man. As Thea meets a man who sweeps her off her feet Alice plans to marry her best friend, the antithesis of the men she’s dated. But as both continue their lives they find that simple choices may not be so simple in reality and that they’ll have to re-assess their ideas once more.

Love Rules appears to promise a dose of easy summer reading, just what you’d expect from a book of its genre, and for a while this is the case – in fact the book is so easy to read at times it’s dull. Admittedly it can’t be said that Chick-Lit is as riveting a genre as some, but there is generally a plot that evokes interest and the want to know what happens. The vast majority of Love Rules sadly requires you to question whether you can be bothered because it just saunters along like main characters Thea and Saul around the streets of London. However this may well be a clever device used by North to further explain the latter quarter of the book. Be sure that the book does not stay boring, it turns it’s back on the Chick-Lit genre to provide hard-hitting and oft difficult to read material. North convincingly lures us into thinking that the lives of her characters are ordinary – and then crashes down on us with the idea that it’s ordinary life that can often have the problems. We always assume that it’s busy lives, unstable families, and the like that have problems – that’s natural, right? But North shows that “ordinary” can be a cover up for darker elements. In a way she’s saying, “watch out for ordinary” and you can understand her cautions – you never expect things out of the ordinary when things are ordinary to begin with.

North confuses us adeptly – is Alice wrong in her thoughts, shouldn’t her husband be around more? This has the effect of subtly skimming over Thea – her story is nice, it doesn’t require thought. There are a few things that don’t add up, but unlike Marian Keyes’s This Charming Man you can’t even say that they’re hinted at – they are, but it’s less than a hint, it’s more a fifth of a hint. Later, once the crux of the story is in full throws North turns her attention directly to the reader, to you. She asks you, as though you’re discussing the book together, what should happen, what we should feel, who is wrong, who is right, are we really sure about that, but isn’t it…? She does this just before launching into the book’s conclusion, in a way that explains, without actually saying, that there are many conclusions to come to. Hers is just one of them. As the reader you start to question yourself, no matter what opinion you’ve come to. I would take a guess as to what the majority of readers would feel should happen and say that in that respect it is an easy read. North wants to approach the boundary but she knows not to alienate her audience and so moves carefully, giving you something to think about but not letting you get too disheartened – while yet not appeasing completely. This all sounds very confusing but in fact it’s a stroke of genius on her part.

As said, the book becomes very difficult to read near the end and although the ending is good it’s not the happy ending you’re likely expecting. Beyond the issues raised there is a lot of upset to contend with and a lot of thoughts to digest. There’s also the addition of the other side of the story, although the other side itself isn’t so represented the associations of it are brought to the fore and evaluated. The characters may not change their minds but they debate on the issues and while people may challenge this and say it’s a good step but not enough it’s enough for the book.

Writing-wise the book is average. North has employed an interchangeable style; for the most part the book is in the third person but it sometimes moves to first and every so often to present tense as a fly-on-the-wall. When a change in tense happens during a chapter, which becomes more often as the plot takes off it’s mask, a re-read of the first few sentences is necessary to adapt to that change. North obviously likes the individuality it provides but for the reader it’s an irritation. Also of an irritation is the constant use of the word “effervescent”. Indeed it’s a fine word, but it’s obvious and memorable when big words are repeated and there are plenty of synonyms available. In the case of the chapters they could have been better defined, whole chunks of the book go by without a proper break.

As someone who is supposed to supply details that will help you decide if this is a book for you I apologise for being so vague. I can’t tell you any more because it would render the book spoiled and I feel that this is alright.

Love Rules takes love and what it means and causes and dissects it. It is not a valuable read, per se, but it is a good look on morality not usually so observed in the genre (and that’s forgetting the issue itself and concentrating on time and effort given). Pick it up if you will, we decide our own boundaries.

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Sometimes an author’s light fades miserably. And sometimes it’s their fault entirely.

Publisher: Bloomsbury
Pages: 404
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-0-7475-9808-4
First Published: 2008
Date Reviewed: 28th February 2010
Rating: 2/5

Sovay finds that her family are more caught up in the political turmoil than she thought. She assumes the role of highwayman to steal documents that incriminate her family and won’t rest until her father and brother are safe. The country is on the brink of civil war and the male members of the family are high up in the ranks of the revolt for freedom.

The subtitle on the front of the book and the blurb on the back suggest that the story revolves around highway robbery. This is not the case. Sovay robs for love for all of 5 minutes and only robs otherwise a handful of times. The book is far more about politics and struggle than adventure and scandal. It’s also a very slow read; towards the last quarter the story picks up significantly, but it remains easy to put down.

There are many main male characters in this book who enter at different stages of the story and remembering them all can be challenging, but the upshot is that Sovay is strong enough a character herself, even in her weaker moments. In her Rees has created a perfect example of the balance between strength and courage and the expected hesitations and thoughts of a teenage girl. Sovay is forward thinking and would be fine as a character in a present-day novel, while retaining her historic features.

Rees’ previous novel, Pirates!, dealt with the concept of rape and if you’ve read my review of the book you’ll remember that I discussed the fact that it went too far for the teenage target audience. Sovay goes further and it is incomprehensible why the publishers thought it could be categorised as a book for children. Sovay becomes friends with a boy who lives in a brothel. The boy is a prostitute and he and other boys dress up in drag for their older male clients. The idea of prostitution is bad in itself for a children’s novel, but to include such perversion and deprivation of young people is incredibly worrying. Rees doesn’t describe what goes on in detail but she drops big obvious hints of it, and although the characters aren’t happy with their lives they are content enough. There isn’t the big escape or lesson for the brothel owner or clients and the whole subplot is very disturbing. There’s the definite sense that Rees wants to write more freely – so she should try adult literature instead where her stories would be acceptable. If the style of adult literature and forming appropriate characters is difficult then maybe she should realise that children need to be protected from such ideas until they are old enough to understand; and if she can’t perhaps she should stop writing altogether.

The book takes an abrupt turn about two thirds of the way through, first sending Sovay to a scientist’s home and then packing her off to France. Although France is referenced several times it isn’t implied that she’ll go there at any point and the whole thing feels forced, as though Rees wanted to add more adventure to it. This doesn’t work when you’ve set your story in a hideous period of history and the seriousness of events that follow, in this book, swing back and forth between coming across as not so bad and being horrific in nature. Rees should also have spent more time on the ending as there are threads left loose.

For a long while there are a possible two or three men that Sovay could end up with. The final result could prove a shock; it comes out of nowhere but is treated as something you knew all along. Badly handled would be the right phrase here as anyone harbouring notions of Sovay becoming attached to one of the other men will be bitterly disappointed, it’s rather like someone entering an auction just as it finishes and taking the item from the auctioneer’s table.

One thing stands out and is exquisite, so it’s a pity it’s contained within only several pages and that at the end. The revolution in France causes all the main characters to be suspected of being against the changes and Sovay ends up in prison. Rees makes the poignant observation that the revolution itself had failed in it’s promise to make everyone equal, condemning anyone who was so much as in the wrong place at the wrong time without a proper jury or any defence – and that it’s ironic that it was on those journeys of people from court to the guillotine that class and wealth lost importance and everyone sort to give solace to each other. We then experience this court and the prison to which the condemned spend their last night for ourselves. We share in the knowledge that those who first sort equality had images of domination, and rejoice when those who killed thousands for no reason are brought to justice.

Sovay had potential, but it was not realised. The book would be a good basic, and I stress basic, introduction of the French revolution – for adults – but it is not appropriate for the target audience and definitely not recommended for any children who are of a nervous disposition, especially if the parents or guardians are uncomfortable with the idea of a discussion that will compromise their innocence at such an age.

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