The lovers are married in a ceremony lasting minutes and then flee from the king. It’s the stuff fairytales are made of.

Publisher: Sphere (Little Brown)
Pages: 673
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-7515-3939-4
First Published: 2000
Date Reviewed: 21st March 2011
Rating: 4.5/5

The Fitzwarin family seat was at Whittington until it was taken from them. For years Fulke’s father strove to regain it but when he died it was still in the hands of another and thus Fulke and his brothers took over the fight. Yet Whittington doesn’t remain the only thing in the young man’s mind and once he meets Maude, who he’d first come across when she was a headstrong girl of twelve, his loyalty will be split.

Something that may interest you to know, and to give you a general sense of the book, is that the man this book is based on, Fulke Fitzwarin III, is one of the possibilities for the inspiration of the legend of Robin Hood.

For the longest time I lingered on the fence between wanting to review this novel to let you know how good it is, and not wanting to review it because the idea of reviewing Chadwick’s work seems to me blasphemous. It is just so difficult to explain how amazing her creations are, and indeed the first book I read of hers, Shadows And Strongholds, has still not seen a review from me since two autumns ago when I read it.

The success of the book, above anything else, above the themes, even above the story, is the way that Chadwick makes the history accessible. The style of writing doesn’t so much invite you as envelope you without warning into the world in the book, Chadwick’s style is very much show rather than tell and the details she goes into about the domestic life mean that imaging everything is delightfully simple. Unlike many books where you can be hard pressed to create a whole picture of the scene in your mind, Chadwick’s work fills you in on everything; you hear about the different weapons, the way clothes were made, the cultural traditions such as the bedding ceremony. And as you can no doubt tell from the way I have written it, this paragraph applies just as much to her other books as it does to Lords Of The White Castle.

Because there is not much factual information to go on, and what information there is about the Fitzwarin’s cannot always be trusted, it was inevitable that Chadwick would adopt a more fictional outlook than authors who write of later periods. As someone who thrives on historical fiction that is more or less factual I have to say that it really doesn’t matter here, and dates are included which makes it easier if you later wish to research the factual elements.

The book takes a while to come into it’s own but the lead up to the romance is far from boring, the reader is provided with all the necessary background details and then some, and the characters are strong and well developed. When the romance does enter fully the narrative speeds along because of everything else that is going on. It’s thrilling. Perhaps the best aspects are the times the characters know they are assuming a stereotype and exploit it magnificently.

Fulke smiled at the apprehension in Ivo’s voice. Put his brother in the midst of a melee or ask him to charge across open ground at opposing cavalry and he would not balk. But give him the massive greenery of the Welsh mountain forests and the possibility of wild Welshmen lurking in ambush and he became as anxious as a nun in a brothel.

Humour places a substantial role, although you wouldn’t call the book a comedy. There are some great lines in the story and the metaphors tend to enlist the time period.

“You may seduce me as much as I like,” she declared with a wrinkle of her nose, “but not until we are wed.”

The sex scenes in the book often take place “behind the curtain” so to speak, but when they don’t they are hot and sensual. This doesn’t mean it is erotic fiction, and the words used are not crass, but Chadwick goes further than many romances.

The characters are strong, and Maude, the leading lady, strives to be on a par with her husband – apart from societal constraints, they are equals. There is a brilliant scene where Maude pulls out her crossbow and, after seeing her husband’s hesitation, reminds him that she is better than most men. If you’re looking for a kick-arse chick, you’ll find one here. Fulke is just as good, his dialogue is often priceless and his manner admirable, at least usually. And to bring in the Robin Hood reference I spoke of at the start, Chadwick’s story does include things that relate well to the legend. The rest of the characters are no less developed and the Fitzwarin household and their allies are a joy to read about.

Unsurprisingly Lords Of The White Castle deals with social issues, including the differences in gender. Chadwick generally lets the laws of the period hold sway but often points to times when men were happy to have their women be knowledgeable in politics. The two elements balance well and from her 20th century position she illustrates how some people were ahead of their time. Poignant is the retort made by a man to his father-in-law that if a woman can marry and run her household then she should be able to own land. It strikes as similar to many of the debates we have today regarding the placement of age restrictions, such being able to drive and be married before having the right to vote.

The only problem I had with the book was its length. It carries on for a long while after the threads are tied and although you can understand why it does, because Chadwick is wanting to present you with her version of the relationships, after the afore mentioned threads are tied there is nothing particularly interesting to keep reading for.

Lords Of The White Castle brings a piece of history that is often forgotten to life and fills in the gaps with fiction that is interesting, fun, and believable. If you are at all interested in swords and shields or if you have ever wanted to travel back in time and live in the medieval period then this book for you. And if you’re anything like me then the idea of bread and cheese becomes an incredibly viable option for dinner when hunger strikes and you have to put the book down.

Marketplaces, kings, tournaments, traditional cooking methods, and knights in shining armour coming to rescue their lovers. It’s all here.

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History is always changing because we are always finding out about new aspects of it.

Publisher: Atria Books (Simon & Schuster)
Pages: 357
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-4165-9059-0
First Published: 17th February 2011
Date Reviewed: 31st March 2011
Rating: 5/5

It’s 1947 and American Evie has come to India with her husband and son while her husband documents the fall of British rule. Martin has changed since the Second World War and though Evie hoped the move to India would re-ignite their marriage it seems unlikely to happen. In heartache she turns to cleaning in order to gain control where it was lost and it’s here that she discovers a loose brick in their hundred-year-old house. Hidden inside the gap is a bunch of letters dated 1850’s – suddenly Evie has a purpose of her own.

Although I’ve read a lot of books recently that I enjoyed perhaps even more than The Sandalwood Tree, on no occasion have I been able to read without checking every now and then on my progress – until this book. I finished it without really noticing. The book is full to bursting with delightful contents.

Admittedly it probably helps that I’m interested in India and its many cultures and can speak a bit of Hindi (the book contains a smattering of the language) but I’d hope that the immense richness of detail is undeniable to anyone. Newmark may to a certain point exoticise the country, this makes sense considering the time periods she writes of, but it’s the overall research and the way she describes the places that make the book what it is. The colours of the cover match the story perfectly.

The Sandalwood Tree flips back and forth between 1947 – the time of Partition – and the 1850s, when relations between the British and Indians were understandably bad. It details the events that happened during those times (although the book ends before Partition happens so it’s the lead-up that is examined) but the emphasis is on the lives of the characters and the particular social issues relevant to them. Evie, as an American, finds herself more open-minded than the Brits in her circle and so you get to see a few different points of view. Her own story becomes very much effected by the letters she reads, leading her to find India more homely and enabling her to really consider the impact her husband’s years in service have had on their marriage. Her son, Billy, is a joy in himself, being rather bold and knowledgeable and, being five years old in 1940s India, his own development as a character is particularly interesting.

The letters Evie finds become a second plot in their own right. Even though it is Evie who reads the letters and finds out about the women in them, so much time is given to the letters themselves that it’s easy to forget that. This sort of story has been done before, but because of Newmark’s writing style and the connection she makes between the women and Evie, it is fascinating. I should probably say that Evie’s story is told in the first-person, the 1850’s via the letters and a diary. The various social issues covered due to the two characters love interests make the book very compelling.

I would observe and understand India without India actually touching me.

One of the most interesting elements of the book is the way the domestic squeezes its way into the social, and vice versa.

A second conflict of cultures happens as the back-story to Martin’s plight in the form of the Germans and anyone against them. Consider the following:

He said it bothered him that German sounded so much like the Yiddish of his grandparents; then he shook his head as if he was trying to understand something.

Newmark’s point is poignant, that there was no real difference between Jews and Germans other than religions. Martin’s experiences, when put against the issues surrounding partition add another layer of thought to the book, show in both cases how society can change so quickly when a line is drawn in the middle.

The only thing I took issue with was the phrase “buttoning the curtains down” within the letters written in the 1850’s by British people. I have come to recognise the phrase “button down” through reading American literature, but it’s not something we say in Britain and thus is out of place in an old English letter. But I feel I have demonstrated my feelings overall: this book is pretty near perfect.

The Sandalwood Tree brings many different generations, cultures, religions, nationalities, domestic situations and opinions to its relatively modest 357 pages, and deals with all effectively. Whether the research is spot-on I can only say as much as I know personally, but it definitely comes across as a triumph all round.

The answer to would I recommend this book is a resounding “yes”.

I received this book for review from the author thanks to Pump Up Your Book.

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Over the tip of the iceberg but not yet on the ground of the other side…

Publisher: (self-published)
Pages: 428
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-1-4537-7503-5
First Published: 2010
Date Reviewed: 8th March 2011
Rating: 3.5/5

In Haddie’s town in Maryland, America, it’s the 1960’s and African Americans are now able to live lives more equal to their European neighbours. But there is still segregation and there are low opinions of the people still called “Negroes”. It is this conflict between equality and low opinion that leads the death of an African American boy to create a furore. The town may be able to get over it but this issue isn’t their “only” problem.

I have to admit that I was skeptical when I received Deed So because discovering it was self-published and then reading the blurb that heralded it as “astonishing” and “gorgeously written” didn’t bode well in my mind. For a while I did indeed have reason to keep comparing the content to what the blurb declared true.

Unfortunately there are a mass of typing errors in the book, including a few which change the meaning of what’s written and thus have to be pondered over. The majority of the book walks along seeming to not go anywhere – although there are subplots they are wrapped up quickly enough and one can wonder where the book is truly heading. The climax is too convenient, the story gets to a point where it’s racing along like nobody’s business and the event is a good length, and then suddenly it ends in a very unsatisfactory manner.

But there is a lot of good in this book that, by the time you do reach the end, has balanced out the bad. One of these good things is that Deed So is very much one of those works where the reader can live the life through the words. Because the plot takes a long while to show it’s true colours you are able to sit back and really explore life in the 1960’s, which if you’re at all interested in historical domestic situations and were not around at the time, is a real treat. Russell does a good job with the descriptions, speaking personally I began the book not really knowing what made the 1960’s what they were – in other words my knowledge of the distinctions between culture, dress, and technology between the 1930’s and 1960’s is a little blurry – but by the end I could say that I was far more knowledgeable and able to conjure up images, albeit if they weren’t completely perfect.

If the strongest overall aspect is the invitation to the reader to immerse themselves, then so close in prominence that it could be argued just as strong, is the social aspect. On the face of it the major issue covered is directly related to the acceptance of African Americans but in fact the issue is broader than this, encompassing social relations as a whole. Whether due to fact or Russell’s creation (this I do not know) the situation provides a good introduction for further contemplation. The town sits in the middle of the two sides of debate – they have accepted blacks into their community, and talk to them as equals, but there is still some segregation upheld, and the past inequality continues to affect the choices of the community in the way that the whites are higher in society. Because Russell gives the reader this quasi-balance and you get to hear each side of the story every time, you come away much more knowledgeable than you would have if only either segregation or complete equality had been spoken of.

In referring to a broader social issue I look to the problems with class and how the family and community at home related to the return of soldiers. One of the subplots involves the complete change a boy undergoes after having been in Vietnam and how he is unable to speak out about it because of the suffocation of an uninformed community and a society unwilling to discuss the issues he has had to face. In addition to this there are also several domestic troubles.

Russell has created a cast of characters bound by family. All her characters belong to families and each family is important in the community and known by all. Yet, whether they acknowledge it or not, every single one of those families have problems of varying natures.

It would be impossible to point to a particular motive Russell may have had to write this book. Like many other writers, no matter whether they use the period to comment on a social or long-term domestic issues, Russell has created a story with her own spin that is thus at once similar yet vastly different. Each story of this nature brings different thoughts to the foreground.

As a reader I feel privileged to be able to have so many viewpoints and opinions in mind on which, if I so chose to do so, would make for a well-debated essay.

Deed So has it’s fair share of technical hitches and could have done with more polish, but it’s safe to say that it’s a pretty decent novel and informer.

I received this book for review from the author thanks to Pump Up Your Book.

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Most likely your unremarkable life is full of the remarkable.

Publisher: Faber
Pages: 333
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-571-35187-2
First Published: 4th February 2010
Date Reviewed: 1st November 2010
Rating: 4.5/5

In 1672, Jonathan Dymond’s routine – living with his parents, making cider for the neighbours in autumn – comes to a halt upon the death of his uncle Robin. His father is upset that he didn’t make it to the deathbed in time and Jonathan is harrowed by a dream in which the ghost of his uncle accosts him along the road. Jonathan wants answers and it just so happens that, his aunt having an orchard herself, she might have a place for him; he goes under the guise of cider maker. There’s a strange servant at aunt Harriet’s, a girl who is very forward. And then one day she disappears. Something’s up, and it’s more than simply his father’s upset and his aunt’s formidability. Jonathan’s found a mystery to solve and by God will he solve it, no matter what happens to him.

When I picked up The Wilding I was expecting a story that would trundle along like a wooden cart, and for the most part this is indeed what happens. What is so unique about the book is that McCann involves a mystery to solve but doesn’t make it all that compelling until later on, instead she focuses more on life at the time and social issues. This may sound off-putting but it enables the story to rest gently over a number of genres and thus exhibit appeal to readers of many persuasions.

For the characters, The Wilding is unlike any other story I’ve ever read of this time period. There are differences in class and wealth but there are no extreme riches, or poverty without any sort of redemption. Everything happens within a radius of several miles and most journeys are made for cider.

“I marvelled at the shamelessness with which she turned thanks inside out. She was not a vagrant for nothing: here was one who could beg an apple peel and end by carrying away the tree.”

Tamar is a wonderful character. She has been so well created and written by McCann that she is real beyond any other character I have come across. For the first time in my life (that I can remember) I have been able to form a character head to toe in my imagination without resorting to an actress or someone from my own life. My Tamar is true flesh and blood, a real person with movable features, except that she resides solely in my head. And yet McCann’s writing doesn’t seem, when you’re reading it, to possess any special quality – but my inability to create a face has waned, at least for now. I may see Jonathan as a faceless narrator (which is the usual way I see characters) and Aunt Harriet as Pam Ferris (a result, I believe, of having watched the TV adaptation of Jane Eyre recently) But I’m glad to have one fully-fledged character in my head at last.

And the best bit of that? My Tamar has not in any way been influenced by the girl on the book’s cover. Except for the red hair, of course.

To move away from my cooing, Jonathan Dymond, the narrator, has been perfectly created – being not so much the subject but certainly the reason, he is provided with a lot of emotion and is always rethinking issues while allowing the focus to be on the other characters. He’s an average working class citizen of the day, with a very interesting family.

McCann deals with a number of issues that have eternal relevance; these she discusses quickly and skilfully. As an example, she touches on prostitution, saying that being with so many men for such a reason as money a woman can become deadened to emotions during sex and unconcerned about the man afterward. This may sound bad, but it’s something that the narrator must talk about during the book and you have remember that the woman in question is young and ignorant in ways.

The text is mainly modern but McCann sometimes writes in the way people of the time would’ve spoken. The modern language, made more realistic by the social standing of the characters makes the narrative easy to follow. One of the initial secrets is no hardship to work out dozens of pages before it’s revealed, but this was quite possibly something McCann meant to happen for reasons that you will understand when you read it.

As the book revolves around a family, the emphasis is on them and their daily lives rather than any key moments in history. A few events, and some fictional yet all too possible ideas, are looked into but briefly. This isn’t a book for learning about the period so much as a book for those who want to live it themselves.

Because on the face of it, McCann’s writing is nothing special, I’m wondering if she enlisted Joan’s help in making it come across as enthralling. If nothing else she definitely stole an amulet from the thorns at the front of the cave. The Wilding will let you breathe for a long time before it takes your breath away. But once it does, you might not get it back.

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A young girl secretly takes on the rebellion before the war.

Publisher: Tribute Books
Pages: 148
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-0-9814619-5-3
First Published: 2008
Date Reviewed: 24th September 2010
Rating: 3/5

When I was asked to join the blog tour for Call Me Kate, saying “yes” was easy. Having read recently about the creation of the United States, but knowing nothing about the issues faced by the Irish, the idea of adding to my knowledge interested me greatly.

Katie McCafferty lives with her family in the newly created United States, but their Irish heritage does not permit them the same freedoms granted other Americans, and they are forced to live in a community with other Irish families, mining for coal. The mines are dangerous places – the owners not caring if they lose workers to avalanches – and slowly the Irish people have come to form unions. Those in power want them to join the war but why should they when they are treated as second-class citizens?

The first thing that struck me about Call Me Kate was the chapter list – yes, something before the story! Roe has made a big effort to title all chapters with words beginning with “C”. There are only three that don’t begin this way but they do have a word beginning with the letter somewhere in their title. For a book with twenty-two chapters I reckon that’s pretty damn awesome.

The book is very short and unfortunately this means that a lot of detail is invariably missed out. Dialogue is preferred in favour of description and scenes move from one to the other without time to get your bearings, the chapters themselves don’t feature the subtle gaps that most books do. All this means that the story moves far too quickly, never staying in one place long enough, it’s as though author only had a couple of days in which to write it. The narrative is at times melodramatic, caused in part by the plenty dialogue. Because of Katie’s age the scene where a few tragedies happen at once seems unrealistic and more akin to a soap-opera storyline, no matter how realistic it actually is.

But despite this the novel manages to pack some great issues into its slim width. It brings to mind issues that were at the forefront of Lisa See’s On Gold Mountain, where the reader can’t but find the whole set up of infant America ridiculous. The Irish were treated as nasty immigrants, but wasn’t the majority of the population made up of immigrants? And there was a lot of awful prejudice against the native people but it’s absurd how the white Americans, a great number not being many generations from born and bred British themselves, thought that the Irish shouldn’t be allowed. Many of them probably had Irish ancestors.

Something that really makes you think is the opinion of the Irish, and this links in to the way the Americans treated them. In many respects you have to concede that the Americans had a point in wanting to keep the Irish out – because the Americans had got there first and you can understand that they might have been worried about resources being taken from them (consider the current issues of immigration in Britain). However, the Americans treated the Irish like dirt and had no intention of giving citizenship to those who fought for the country – so it is with that said that the situation was wrong. And you can’t forget that previously the Americans had taken the land from the natives anyway.

Roe’s character, and the narrator of the book, is a fourteen-year-old female. Katie is a strong character and Roe has portrayed her brilliantly. You must approach this book remembering her age because it atones for a lot of the simplistic style of writing in the book. Having a female as the main character also makes the story more fictional and thus less open to dispute about historical accuracy because of the point of view allowed by society for Katie to see. The problem with a female lead in this situation refers to that point of view – you don’t get to read about as much of the action and atrocities that went on. Of course you do read about them because Katie sees the wounded, hears the news, but it feels as though Roe’s research hasn’t been able to flourish. While Katie is a great character, Roe appears to have a lot more information to impart, and I for one would love to read a book by her written about the same era and from a character possessing more first-hand experience, a character like Con, for instance.

I couldn’t help but compare Call Me Kate to Celia Ree’s Sovay. In both the main characters are strong but Katie definitely shines over Sovay for her more realistic qualities.

Something that I hope Roe will continue to focus on, because she can be very inventive, is the use of similes. As an example, here is a quote that stands out:

I was as jumpy as a rasher of bacon on a hot griddle.

The book improves in the last several pages, including more descriptions, but the end is too sudden. As a debut Call Me Kate is good, but Roe needs to work further on the difference between compiling fact and being a novelist because while it’s in recounting historical fact that her talent lies chiefly, there’s no reason why her creations in future should not be first-rate.

I received this book for review from Tribute Books.

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