Don’t forget your toothbrush.

Publisher: (self-published)
Pages: 370
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-780-88242-0
First Published: 1st August 2012
Date Reviewed: 20th March 2013
Rating: 3/5

Alex was pulled back in time, and all she was doing was heading to a presentation. Landing in the countryside, the 1600s version of where she was when her car stopped, she meets Matthew. Matthew is on the run from jail and agrees to help Alex, intrigued by her looks and story. Alex has family in the 21st Century, but there’s something about Matthew, and soon, despite the hardships that await her in Stuart Scotland, she might start to wonder whether the idea of returning is the opposite of what she wants.

A Rip In The Veil is a time travel novel with a twist. Here we have a woman who has fallen back in time to land in the Scottish Commonwealth, meeting a man who is on the run, and later trying to discover what happened to her mother.

Belfrage has done a good job of using her characters and plot to detail the time periods and their differences. Where others might info-dump she has Alex tell Matthew about what will happen in his own lifetime in order to help him understand what is happening. Belfrage has created a character that knows enough of history that means she doesn’t freak out when events occur – she does worry, because anyone would in the situations – but she has the knowledge and modern methods of, for example, fighting, to last the day.

The issue is that the characters aren’t developed enough. They are stereotypical and it would be difficult to describe them well if you were asked by an interested party. Alex is a career woman, has a child she didn’t want, knows some history, and has a multi-cultural background, but beyond that there is little to say. And the case with Matthew is similar.

This would actually be okay if the plot was not full of holes – because it’s obvious that Belfrage wanted a plot-driven book and there is nothing wrong with that. But there are major issues with the plot, such as Alex, someone who is otherwise very aware of how unhygienic 1600s Scotland is (she is always wishing for a toothbrush, understandably) beginning a sexual relationship with Matthew without any mention of STDs or contraception. One can assume that Matthew may have only been with one other woman before, but the way Belfrage presents Alex leaves no room for unprotected sex. And there is a lot of sex and lust in this book. Indeed there is also the issue of Alex saying how much she loves John, back in the 21st Century, whilst she lusts after Matthew. That can happen, but in this case it does not add up.

And for all her knowledge, Alex isn’t good at accepting the differences that come with being in Matthew’s era. She rallies against some occurrences, as would any woman from a modern western society, but some of her arguments, considering the way she is otherwise, sound at best impolite. And when you’ve a career woman not finding a problem with the relative boredom of a woman’s lot in the 1600s, it doesn’t come across well. Neither does the agreement to burn and give up the possessions that have accompanied her in time travelling. But that’s the issue; Belfrage is very good 50% of the time detailing time differences in regards to characters, and completely forgetful the other 50%. She’ll constantly highlight changes, and then has Alex tell Matthew she thinks she pregnant a few weeks before she suddenly realises she’s pregnant, for example.

The writing is okay, and Belfrage is able to use both old styles of speaking and, of course, modern day slang. However there is this odd element employed where every character tends to end questions with “no?”, as though using broken English. It works for the truly foreign characters, but is out of place and distracting otherwise.

The mystery of Alex’s mother is compelling, even if the sections on the men involved are less so. The violence is extreme and repetitive but it doesn’t stop the story moving forward. But reading the book, it can be difficult not to feel like the premise and various ideas were not taken advantage of. A lot more time could have been spent on Alex’s thoughts of home, especially as she is presented as so modern, and after the initial set up has been established, the characters in the 21st century are abandoned where they could have provided a good balance and more intrigue.

A Rip In The Veil has a great premise and a lot of unique ideas, and for all the issues it is difficult not to want to keep reading. But it must be noted by the prospective reader that threads are left hanging and the unrealistic can take precedent (besides the concept of time travel). It is the start of a series, so there is the possibility that Belfrage may fill in these holes later on.

I received this book for review from the author.

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The prelude of the Tudor dynasty.

Publisher: Mira (Harlequin)
Pages: 607
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-848-45215-2
First Published: 1st March 2013
Date Reviewed: 8th March 2013
Rating: 3.5/5

Katherine of Valois, neglected by her parents, is chosen to become the wife of England’s Henry V, bringing the claim to the French throne with her. But Henry is focused on wars and the young Queen’s infatuation does nothing to interest him. At the King’s death, Katherine is not expected to remarry, but that means little when you’re 21 and have never known love.

The Forbidden Queen is O’Brien’s endeavour to bring into the spotlight the grandmother of Henry VII and illustrate the plights of medieval queenship. Drawing both on factual evidence and speculation, she crafts a tale to suit both fans of history and readers looking for romance.

Katherine herself can be a rather annoying and ignorant character, but it is difficult to fault her for a long time due to the background context O’Brien has written (the childhood neglect has neither been confirmed or dismissed by historians so O’Brien’s usage is fair). Considered by themselves, Katherine’s actions are childish, not thought through, and fully of naivety. They are the sorts of actions that readers of strong female characters deplore. However, given Katherine’s childhood – the lack, no, complete absence, of parental care, the punishments and particular upbringing – whilst she may irritate there is a sound reason for it. Indeed O’Brien doesn’t simply list the elements of the childhood and then move on, she provides the details necessary for the reader to understand Katherine’s continuing desperation for love and all the anxiety and bad choices that go along without.

But there comes a limit to how much of the same will work in one book. Over the course of the novel Katherine makes the same mistakes time and time again, quite literally repeating herself. Some have factual basis, but most do not, and whilst the romantic choices are based on speculation that has been passed down through the ages, it was up to O’Brien to fill in the gaps with events that are interesting rather than more of the same. It feels at times as though you’re reading the book a second time, and a lot of it could have been cut out without loosing anything important. The repetition of Katherine and all the mistakes do start to become difficult to understand as the book continues. Despite the background context it is difficult to believe that after a decade of life in England and at court, the Queen would not have learned a thing or two.

Katherine’s inner thoughts are highlighted in italics but she repeatedly ignores the voice of reason and does not understand others’ concerns. She is relentlessly anxious in her repetitive thoughts – angst is the element of the day – and as the book is told in the first person the reader is never given an opportunity to see things from another point of view. This means that whilst there are wars going on, and undoubtedly issues in England due to her son not yet attaining his majority, you do not hear about it, even though it would have surely been in her mind.

Yet because you are stuck in Katherine’s head, there is ample opportunity to get a feel for how it must have been for those who were wronged, and how laws and politics could affect even the most powerful, or in this case simply highest, of women. Locked as she is in her weakness, Katherine rarely puts her heart into rebellion, easily giving up, but through her continual isolation it is possible to draw a picture of what it must have been like for the many other women who suffered similarly. In this way the book will prove interesting to those who feel dowager queens have been forgotten by literature.

And it must be said that Katherine’s utter ignorance creates the perfect situation to educate the reader about society and court expectations for foreign brides. There is also the difference, even if not great, between a mother’s teaching and expectations compared to how the future husband expected his wife to behave. O’Brien demonstrates how a lot of the marital and sexual distances in history might have been shortened had women been brought up to be bold.

The romances in the book enable O’Brien to explore how politics ruled over emotions and how nobles suffered for their riches. They are viewed from the diplomatic angle Katherine must see, except on those occasions when passions triumph over regulations. Understandably the men in the book are secondary characters, even when they are Katherine’s lovers, and O’Brien has moulded them to suit her story.

Liberties are taken but not to extremes, basic anxiety is backed up by context, and the examination into the affects of a mad father and (speculated) debauched mother is undertaken with aplomb.

The Forbidden Queen is admirable for its desire to bring Katherine to the fore, and it’s not a bad book on the whole. But without a solid focus or interesting developments, there isn’t much to recommend Katherine, herself, to memory. If you are looking for romance, however, you may have come to the right place, and the inclusions of well-loved elements will likely keep you reading.

I received this book for review from ED Public Relations.

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An attempt to end the Reformation.

Publisher: Orion Books
Pages: 427
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-409-13309-4
First Published: 28th February 2013
Date Reviewed: 26th February 2013
Rating: 4/5

Joanna Stafford, ex-novice at the dissolved Dartford priory, is trying to get used to the secular life. But when her cousin visits the town and it becomes apparent that his wife wishes to continue the proceedings of the prophecy Joanna heard from Elizabeth Barton¹, the novice has a choice to make. Does she refuse, and live in danger of those who wish Protestantism gone, or does she agree to work towards the deposition of the formidable Henry VIII?

The Chalice is a cleverly written novel that looks at the effects of the dissolution on those it impacted the most, and provides a semi-plausible and well-implemented reasoning for much of the happenings during the time between Jane Seymour and Anne of Cleves.

Considering the success of the book historically, it makes sense to discuss what does not work first. Whilst the secondary and “background” characters are factual, the main characters have been created by Bilyeau to varying effect. Some are mostly there to provide knowledge and opinions of the period – for example, although Brother Edmund is of importance to Joanna, his value to the reader is surely as a source of social information. Bilyeau’s creations may not always fit into the history entirely but their stories are woven into the factual events enough; it is less a case of pausing for thought, more a case of pausing for wonderment.

However Joanna herself is a complex and difficult character. She changes her mind constantly and although one can understand her hesitation and continuous worry there is something not quite right about it. One day she will adamantly be against something, the next very much for it, and she continually backs out when she’s already come too far.

Indeed whilst Joanna is a much-needed representation of the stricken Sister, she is perhaps too much an example of the stereotypical weak woman. Seeing that Joanna is supposedly well-read and strong in other ways it does cause confusion. An otherwise wise woman who suddenly decides to reveal her background whilst undercover is incomprehensible. She doesn’t think about how her actions will ruin careful planning and makes for an incredibly bad agent. Strange also is Joanna’s dislike of admirers when she constantly leads them on.

But however odd these factors are, they do not mean that Joanna is a bad character overall. As suggested she is a good source for learning about the affects of the Reformation and has been placed into the factual history with care.

All this usage of history is what sets Bilyeau’s book on a pedestal. The author never lets her own ideas come in the way of truth, and instead of pulling the reader away from it she finds the gaps where she can insert her characters so that they don’t disrupt. Bilyeau will take a snippet, for example the exact way an ambassador discovered information (which historians do not know), and pitch her characters as the sources. It is for this reason that even the most vigilant of readers, those on the lookout for liberties taken, should be able to relax. Bilyeau may not be the only author to value accuracy, but her method is rather unique and completely satisfying. She even supplies a reason for Henry VIII’s impotence in his later life – unnecessary really, but still absolutely gripping.

Whilst the premise rests on mystery and spying, the book does not move with any speed; it drifts along comfortably, taking its time. In the hands of another author this might have been a negative aspect, but Bilyeau’s focus on social history and detailing the setting mean that whilst you want to know about the intrigue, you are happy just to wait. And you can rest safe in the knowledge that Bilyeau will reveal all.

The Chalice is the book for those who love Tudor nobles but are bored with life at court (your average Tudor noble would have welcomed this book). It may be repetitive at times (everyone always says “no, no, no!”) but on the whole it is a very, very good book. Whilst officially a sequel it can be read by itself as the references to The Crown are detailed enough, and perhaps most importantly it gives a much needed voice to the victims of the changed society.

A superior novel of the dissolution and attempted restoration, The Chalice will delight readers of historical, spy, and perhaps even Christian fiction.

¹ The nun, or “Holy Maid” of Kent. Barton prophesied the death of Henry VIII if he married Anne Boleyn, and was killed for it.

I received this book for review from Historical Fiction Virtual Books Tours.

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Speaking to Nancy Bilyeau about the Joanna Stafford trilogy, The Blue, and Dreamland (spoilers included)

Charlie Place and Nancy Bilyeau discuss the lifestyle of Dissolution-era nuns, using a website’s ‘contact me’ form to great success, there being more relics than there were items, using your family’s name in your work, and the grand amusement parks and luxury hotels of New York’s past.

If you’re unable to use the media player above, this page has various other options for listening.

Love and war. They change everything.

Publisher: Mira (Harlequin)
Pages: 376
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-848-45203-9
First Published: 29th January 2013
Date Reviewed: 13th February 2013
Rating: 3/5

Margot, a German Jew, has spent the war (WW1) living abroad with her father whilst he works at universities. She has a fiancé who went to war but when he returned wounded, Margot decided to stay with her father. She loves Stefan, but not enough, and feels trapped by the idea of marrying him. In Paris, where her father has moved to attend the conference for the treaty at Versailles, she meets Krysia, a woman very different to her who urges her to be her own person in this new world. But because of Krysia, Margot is found by Ignatz, and when Margot meets Georg Richwalder, from the German delegation, she is no longer able to live her life through her own choices.

The Ambassador’s Daughter is a book that looks at the confusion that came with the war and its end, the way the world changed, and the way that a person was able to remake themselves accordingly. Focused on the main character, the war provides the context and backdrop for Margot’s decisions, but it also allows Jenoff to look at the effects of war in general.

The only issue with these two topics being placed together – a historic war and the trials of a young woman – is that one was always going to be used less than the other, and while it’s not bad, per se, that Jenoff chose Margot, it does mean that there is space for further problems.

The main problem with The Ambassador’s Daughter is the main character. Whilst it is in no way necessary to have a character a reader can like, Margot’s constant worries, repetitious thoughts, and poor choices make her rather unrealistic. It is true a person might be indecisive and worry, especially in times of war, but the fact of the first person narrative makes the tale complex for the wrong reasons; if written in the third person Margot may have come across very differently.

The war being considered very little unfortunately makes Margot seem self-absorbed. She is often oblivious to what people have said, even when it is paramount, and does not see what is staring her in the face. When there is hope and a real chance, she pushes it away. The era was not good for women but her father’s support for her education, even if he wished to see her settled, would have made for a stronger sense of reason and fight, if not strength itself.

So the plot is confusing and there are many points that are not expanded. This does mirror, however, the confusion of war and thus makes it difficult to say with confidence that Margot is unreasonable. Her religion, her relative wealth, her father’s position in the world, would have in reality made for a tricky situation, especially when her mother’s death is included in that mix. It’s the fact that Margot never really saw the war that makes her self-absorption so difficult to accept.

Apart from Margot there are some very well developed and poignant characters. Georg, emotionally wounded but striving to stay strong, provides a brilliant contrast to Margot’s indecision; Stefan, for all his misplaced loyalty, is understandable and if anything this makes Margot’s choices worse. Her father is a different story. Revelations in the book may make the reader’s feelings for him change, or at least create a reason for reassessment.

The book is full of lies; lies between the characters, lies towards the reader, indeed it could almost be said that the theme of the book is lies. By themselves they may be considered too numerous. When looked at generally, these are actually clever devices, drawing everything together in their deception and showing that the war might be over but nothing will ever be the same.

There are some plot points that may be considered too convenient. Jenoff deals with the result well, and in fact in at least one place there is a great show of not using it to get to an easy situation, however it does still detract from the book.

Whilst the writing is, overall, rather good, there are a number of Americanisms that do not fit. Margot uses terms such as “gotten” and “fall” (as in autumn). Considering she has spent years in England and never speaks of America except when referring to another’s discussion, the terms are out of place. There is also the matter of research and the usage of objects not yet invented.

However for all this, The Ambassador’s Daughter is not all bad. The romance is lovely, if spoiled by Margot’s indecision, and the focus on Germans is interesting. Looking at the Treaty of Versailles from the point of view of the everyday German provides much food for thought, and learning about the aftermath for the common person is interesting in general. The characterisation of Georg is so fantastic it could keep the book going even if Jenoff had everyone suddenly break into song.

The exploration of change after war, the way people were practically forced to change, is wonderful. The varying nature of the characters and the different ways they cope or choose to move on provides plenty of food for thought. And whilst it is difficult to write off Margot’s anxiety with this statement, Jenoff never gives the reader any need to feel that they must like the narrator.

The detailing may be misplaced and interesting threads lost to oblivion, but there is much to take away from this book. It will not suit everyone; it will likely divide opinion and cause contention for its structure and lack of adherence to history, but it is far from bad. The Ambassador’s Daughter has many flaws, but the ideas it imparts are appealing.

I received this book for review from ED Public Relations.

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Unfortunately for some it was more of a fool’s gold mountain.

Publisher: Bloomsbury
Pages: 307
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-4088-0112-3
First Published: 2009
Date Reviewed: 24th January 2013
Rating: 5/5

When Pearl and May’s father loses the family’s wealth and is threatened by a gang, the girls must marry the sons of another client and leave Shanghai for Los Angeles. The Japanese have started bombing China, but the sisters hope to trick the gang and somehow stay put, keeping their lives as models intact. But that cannot happen and instead they find themselves in dire circumstances before beginning the journey to a country that does not welcome Chinese people, seeking the protection of their new husbands and the family that claims to be making lots of money on the gold mountain.

Shanghai Girls is an excellent novel that looks at how the Japanese invasion of China, and then Communist China, affected those people who had left for America. With a well-developed cast of characters and a detailed backdrop, the story has an atmosphere that few readers, if any, could pass up.

Suffice to say that the story by itself is fantastic – See is a master at writing characters, story, and prose to hook the reader – but the brilliance of the book is the detailing and handling of the conflicts. Set over a couples of decades, beginning in the 1930s and ending in the late 1950s, See places the sisters in situations that allow her to fully explain the events of the times.

This does mean that the story is often gruesome. As in previous books See never shies away from in-depth examination of bound feet, for example, but whereas Snow Flower And The Secret Fan and Peony In Love were set in an earlier period and focused on different types of women, the modernity and setting in Shanghai Girls means that there is a look at how violence towards women escalates during war, and how intrusive and immoral people could be to those they saw as below them. However as much as the violence is explicit, See manages to balance her writing, staying on the line between unnecessary content and lessons.

One of the major aspects of the story is the way the Chinese who immigrated to America reacted to events at home, and how they balanced their old lives with the new ones. One part of this, for example, is the way in which many people wanted to keep traditions, but were not in favour of Mao; this is focused on when See brings in the interrogation of the Chinese by the American government who wanted to rid their land of Communists (and, indeed, simply rid the country of Chinese, full stop). Not only had the Chinese been held, sometimes for months, on their arrival during the Japanese occupation (when America was seeking to deport any illegal immigrants) but the beginning of Communism in China stopped the slow progress of tolerance and began a new wave of discrimination and hate, all in the name of keeping America’s liberty and freedom. Of the initial interrogations, See devotes whole chapters, letting the reader live with May and Pearl throughout the months they tried to gain freedom to travel to Los Angeles, rather than giving readers the easy task of simply knowing it happened. See’s wish to inform her readers of the history may be obvious and hard to read at times, but it is never overbearing or preachy.

See’s characters, for the most part, were all born in China, and whilst May and Pearl begin as modern Shanghai women – intent on being western – Pearl especially starts to see her parents’ traditions as something to adopt herself. This means that for a long time See is restricted to viewing the historical events through their eyes and in the context of immigrants. So when American-born Chinese characters are introduced, See not only shows the arguments that can arise from a culture clash, but also the way young minds can be susceptible to outside influences. And whilst her focus is on communism, See’s handling of the subject enables her message to be timeless.

As to the characters themselves they are developed to the extent that the reader may feel that longing for a continuation after the final pages. (In this regard it’s wonderful that there is a sequel, even if Shanghai Girls‘s cliff-hanger ending is difficult to accept.) And of course there is a vast scope – young and modern, modern but somewhat set in tradition, and strict tradition. Not only are the characters interesting in themselves but also the grouping of them as one family allows for the exploration of family and religious values.

There is a lot of information on the film industry at the time. The sisters, immigrants, can see the way in which Hollywood looks for the exotic rather than the realistic – portraying China as something it never was – as well as the discrimination and stupidity of relegating Chinese people to the roles of extras whilst employing caucasians to play the prominent Chinese characters in the script. The differences between the sisters gives See the opportunity to look at these issues from the view of the person who didn’t care, and the person who saw the hate for Asians. It also gives her the chance to comment on the way in which Asians often look the same to Westerners, where one character with talent is interchangeable with another who lacks it and the director does not realise why he needs so many takes. This issue is looked at further when the American Chinese have to take to wearing clothes with text that says they are not Japanese.

A particularly interesting aspect of the story is the way the sisters feel about each other. The reader may think time and again that this time they will have a bond-breaking argument, but See shows how arguments are different in families as well as showing how allowances are made.

Shanghai Girls spans many years but never feels rushed. The periods See chooses to skip are understandable and lets you see how life trundles along despite hardship. Because of the events See wanted to include in her story, the gaps make sense – this had the potential to be incredibly long when it is just the right length as it is.

Shanghai Girls is a look at war, culture, and everything that is included. It looks at the affects of war on family and country and gives a timeless message of what can happen if people do not work together during those wars. Above all it is the story of a family thrown together by circumstance where the one true bond is between two sisters, and includes the added effect that lies and suspicion have on lives. The book is a triumph in every way and whilst it ends on a huge cliff-hanger it is the sort of book that makes you desperate to move straight on to the sequel.

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