Because the cinema is always an escape, no matter how bad the world outside.

Publisher: John Murray (Hodder & Stoughton)
Pages: 400
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-848-54031-6
First Published: 24th July 2008
Date Reviewed: 16th January 2013
Rating: 4/5

Lilly Nelly Aphrodite was sent to an orphanage after a failed adoption, and in the first years of the 20th century, living in such a place is bleak. She loves the nun who runs the orphanage, however, and makes friends with Hanne, who brought her (Hanne’s) siblings to the door following the suicide of their mother. But the orphanage will not always be around and life is destined to lose its peacefulness. And in war-torn Germany, it’s hard to get by when you have no relations to help you.

The Luminous Life Of Lilly Aphrodite (titled The Glimmer Palace in America) is the story of a girl’s struggle to live a good life and break free of the stigma of her background. Not quite the luminous life you might expect (more on this in a moment) it manages to not only show how awful the First and Second World Wars were but also puts them in the context of life in Germany. Some of the main characters are Jewish, which gives Colin the opportunity to explore the strife of Jews in a first-hand manner. The inclusion of the film industry allows her to show how life went on despite major social problems, and how the government exploited the media for their own gain.

To be sure this book isn’t, for the most part, about film, despite what the summary and title (both British and American) suggest. Lilly does become an actress but she must make it through several hardships first. Indeed one could consider the title to be ironic, looking at the realities of the backgrounds of film stars who have not come from wealthy families, and the way that Lilly’s early life is the very opposite of happy and luminous. What Lilly’s life is, however, is incredibly interesting, both as a work of fiction and for the factual content it offers the reader. In a world where the villain is not given a voice, Colin’s focus on Germany, and on its citizens, is poignant.

There is a lot of sexual content in the book; there are affairs and the odd sex scene, but what is put in the spotlight is the way adults reacted to children. Colin never implies that paedophilia was widespread, but she does imply that it happened a lot – in other words she never glosses over it. The author tells of street corners and girls dressed as women. Lilly’s friend, Hanne, enables Colin to look further, as Hanne becomes a prostitute and performer at a seedy bar. Where Lilly demonstrates liberation and bettering oneself, Hanne demonstrates what happens when people are neglected and left to fend for themselves. Colin deals with this well and never casts any character as bad unless necessary. It should be noted that there is also a lot of love, both platonic and romantic, and not all of it is mutual or appreciated. Yet behind all this is the fact of the war and the way it made sex more prominent, taboo preferences no longer hidden, and meetings for payment rife.

Given that the book focuses on Lilly’s early life, there is in fact little overall about the German film industry. For the most part, the industry is confined to the first page of each chapter and Colin accounts film premieres, the relationships between stars, and the reaction of people to the extras on screen that they recognise and denigrate for appearing in propaganda. Whilst these events relate to Lilly few times, they provide plenty of new voices to aid Colin in the description of war-torn and then Nazi Germany.

And war-torn Germany was as awful if not worse than other countries. Colin describes the starving, the effect of disease on an already weakened population, and the lengths desperate people go to obtain food. All this is contrasted with wealth, as Colin not only details the lives of those who had no reason to worry about inflation or hunger, but has some of her characters be part of that set also to the effect that the reader, who has just witnessed utter poverty, is thrown with Lilly into a world of expensive toiletries and plentiful amenities. Not only does it give you something to think about, it exposes the corruption and has the ability to truly impact the reader on the average person’s behalf.

The book may be about Lilly in name, premise, and angle, but really it is the story of a nation. It could have used more detailing about the film industry and not been quite so convenient at times, but it cannot be said that it fails to make an impact. The Luminous Life Of Lilly Aphrodite is not so much about Lilly but about anyone of the time. And it is that that makes it a winner.

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When you look with your eyes, everything seems nice. But if you look twice you can see it’s all lies¹.

Publisher: Hamish Hamilton (Penguin)
Pages: 292
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-2411-4414-5
First Published: 27th August 2012
Date Reviewed: 29th December 2012
Rating: 5/5

Leah opened the door to the desperate girl seeking money for a taxi to the hospital. Later she found out the girl was not who she seemed to be. It’s just another mistake in a long line of mistakes and disappointments for Leah, who has a good relationship with her French husband but many issues that she has not spoken about to anyone. Then there is Natalie, or Keisha, Leah’s best friend who seems to have a perfect life and a great job. And there is Felix who plans to be married and works at a garage. The characters’ stories may not always be connected, but for one element: London.

NW is a particularly experimental novel that explores the plight of those in the less wealthy suburbs of London; the ways in which they live, the ways they are stuck in their current lives, and the ways in which they try to move up in the world. The storytelling is split into three sections – experimental, regular storytelling, and a series of vignettes. Each section roughly focuses on a different character to present an overall visual of urban London.

The busy complicated writing of the experimental section mirrors the madness of London. For example there is one chapter in which Smith includes lines of songs in the middle of a description of a market, incorporating too a description of the individual people. Any confusion caused by the experimental writing (for example a lack of speech marks) is offset by the sheer artistry of the work – a chapter where words are used to form a tree, a visual painted with words, or the chapter called 37 that is about that number and is located on page 37. The vignettes, the latter section, demonstrate that one doesn’t have to include everything to create an effective and fully-described story, especially considering Smith titles each with a summary. So it is the case that just when you think the whole book is going to be ambiguous, because the experimentation goes on for a long tine, Smith turns to traditional storytelling. Indeed it could be argued that the length of the first section is a test for the reader, to see whether they trust Smith enough to go along with it, before the regular narrative takes shape in part two.

Owing to the different characters, the book does not have a linear narrative, and indeed the stories do not connect as much as the reader might assume they would do. The novel is more of a look at London and its people; the relationship between Natalie and Leah being an exercise in comparisons to show the effects of choices on a life, the different effects that “going up in the world” and staying where you were born can both have the same impact, as well as the impacts you would more commonly associate with the other – a switching of life happenings if you will.

Thus the book involves expectations. Expectations of parents for their children, unvoiced expectations, and those we place on ourselves. And what happens when expectations are met but do not satisfy? – Smith provides answers through the choices of her characters.

The story is mostly concerned with the successors of immigrants, Leah being the sole “main character” of white descent. This gives Smith the scope to view events from many angles and to highlight, if in subtext rather than words, the ordinariness of the life of the second generation.

On the way back from the chain supermarket where they shop, though it closed down the local grocer and pays slave wages, with new bags though they should take old bags, leaving with broccoli from Kenya and tomatoes from Chile and unfair coffee and sugary crap and the wrong newspaper.

You would expect such a book as the one described to be somewhat cheerless and to a certain extent that is exactly what NW is. But then the pressures of life are bound to be greater for many in a place which such a focus and determination as London has. NW shows how it can be for those living in a capital when they don’t quite fit the publicised demographic, and in doing so demonstrates how even those who want to change their status can find it difficult. Smith shows a glimpse of the way out, providing an alternative even if it is difficult or impossible to get there. Indeed it is this impossibility that makes the book poignant and at once both timeless and grounded in current affairs.

It may be different, it may be odd, it may present the important in new and sometimes baffling ways, but that is the way Smith chose to say what she wanted to say and as an overall product it works very well.

¹ “LDN” by Lily Allen.

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Nothing but the castle.

Publisher: Bywater Books
Pages: 454
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-61294-027-4
First Published: September 2012
Date Reviewed: 10th December 2012
Rating: 4.5/5

Please note that this book is the fictionalised story of the author’s family and therefore there are a lot of references to “Blackadder” that will not necessarily refer to the author herself.

Alison Blackadder, instructed by her father to become invaluable to Mary Queen of Scots with the aim of retaining Blackadder castle, begins a life of deception. Having been brought up as a boy in order to mask her from the family’s enemies, Alison finds it easy to be Mary’s eyes and ears in the city, as well as the sovereign’s guard when Mary wants to see the city for herself. Whilst Mary is unattainable, Alison finds herself attracted to other people, however for all her desires one remains the most important – to stay in the Queen’s favour until the castle is regained.

The Raven’s Heart is a grand epic that combines history, politics, and romance, accompanied throughout by a lot of suspense. Indeed the suspense rarely lets go of the narrative; the story speeds along in no time. And considering that almost the entirety of Mary Queen of Scot’s time in her homeland is included, that is a very fine thing.

The epic nature is very much apparent in the storytelling. The beginning of the book focuses on love – Alison’s feelings for the Queen, and the later relationship with one of the maids – creating a sweeping romance, mini plot points arising where Alison’s sexuality causes religion and taboo subjects to enter the fray. But as the book moves on and decisive blows are struck (literally, if you consider the use of execution in those times), romance takes a step back to allow politics, domestic situations, and social history to stake a claim. In other words, the events that do not relate to Blackadder Castle are from popular record and therefore the author lets the dynastic history take over. This in itself is rather wonderful when you consider that the author set out to tell the tale of her ancestors (albeit somewhat fictionalised to fill in the gaps) and means that both the Blackadder tale and the story of Mary Queen of Scots are given ample time; thereby creating a book that is very broad in appeal. The author wants to tell her family’s story, but she never forgets the period of which she is writing and the interest her contemporaries have in it.

Nevertheless, for all the book moves swiftly, it must be said that at times it can seem a bit like a bullet-pointed list. Whilst there is nothing that feels overly quick or lacking in detail, the reader may wonder why the narrative moves quite so fast, even if it’s obvious that Blackadder has made a conscious effort to strip away any text that is unnecessary. Yet the author does look at some events, both fictional and factual, in great detail, and it should be said that the speed and change of scenes and time are a big part of why the book keeps its suspense. Whether the written structure is complimentary or not will likely depend on the reader.

Regardless of the fact the book incorporates romance, attention should be brought to the way sexuality has been approached. Looking at the surface, so to speak – the reference to same-gender relationships on the book’s cover – it must be said that Blackadder’s use of a cross-dressing bisexual woman provides a fantastic contrast to the violent aspects of male perversion present in the novel. The author shows to good effect the difference between harmless same-sex relationships, and perversion. Given that same-sex relationships and bisexuality are often still linked with perversion today, Blackadder demonstrates the marked difference that surely makes the cause for acceptance easy to see. And most interestingly, in choosing these subjects as well as the references to the liberal court of France, the author openly displays the fact that such ways of living have always been a part of humanity. In so doing Blackadder makes use of the opportunity presented to comment on the way different people responded.

The character of Alison, a woman more aligned with manhood, also allows Blackadder the chance to comment somewhat on gender as a whole, and to study the way in which society’s restrictions on what makes a man or woman creates expectations of how people should act. For example, Alison, having lived as a boy all her life, finds talking in a lower register and walking with a wider gait comes more naturally than the dainty traits of the stereotypical woman, and is able to make a decision as to which traits she would like to adopt from her days as a lady-in-waiting.

Unfortunately, with all the events that have been included, the book does start to loosen its grip on suspense before the end. Depending on how invested the reader is in the story of the castle, this may happen when that thread is tied, partly because it can be a surprise, otherwise the natural winding down of the narrative whilst aiming to detail the rest of the reign inevitably slows everything down. In the case of the castle, the story has finished, and thus the continuation of the narrative, albeit necessary to the dynastic tale, shines less brightly. There is also a short period of personification that whilst aligning with the thoughts of the main character, can feel a little convenient and forced.

However the few negatives are relatively minor. Finding anything really off-putting is rather difficult and it has to be said that Blackadder has done a fabulous job of not only introducing her family to the world, but in providing an accessible account of Mary’s reign. There are times when artistic liberties have been taken with the history, but it is easy enough to discover the reality.

The Raven’s Heart is an extraordinary tale of society, politics, love, and one woman’s aim to get back the heritage that ought to have been hers. It will delight the literary interests of a myriad of readers, and perhaps most of all it warrants that the name Blackadder should no longer be confined to a British television series.

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

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Visuals, the written word, and a vast reach.

Publisher: Negative Press
Pages: 171
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-9573828-0-0
First Published: 2012
Date Reviewed: 14th November 2012
Rating: 5/5

Still is an anthology of short stories by an international mix of 26 writers. Each story is based on inspiration gained from a certain photograph. The concept of Bakker, credited as the editor, the book invites new interpretations of his photographic work. With submissions from writers such as Evie Wyld and Jan Van Mersbergen, and including some up-and-coming authors, the book is an assortment from the industry as a whole.

Combining artistry and writing, Still is a work stunning in both presentation and textual content. Not only are the photographs wonderful to look at – the oft-used macro details, the sharpness and detail, the sheer truth of the emptiness that engulfs you perhaps even more so than it might in real life – the design of the book is as much a strong point as the rest. Whilst for Bakker the photography is important, the book itself almost favours the writing, the photographs covering only 3/4s of a single page per story, the rest of that page given to the title. This makes it truly a book for those interested in either subject as well as those interested in both. Bakker took centre stage for his photography exhibition, and in continuing the theme by incorporating the stories and putting them first he has ensured the longevity of his own work, longer than it might have been otherwise.

The fantastic thing about the stories in Still is something Bakker notes in his introduction – often the writer has taken the photographic inspiration and run with it, leaving behind the notion of the derelict town hall. This means that there is a rough three categories of writing: the story based entirely around the photograph and its context, the story that starts with the photograph before leaping somewhere else, and the story that uses the photograph as a cleverly integrated device. Whilst the stories are in nature quite similar, which will be discussed in due course, the differences mean that the book never loses its brilliance, never becomes dull.

‘…entering or exiting through a doorway serves as an “event boundary” in the mind, which separates episodes of activity and files them away.’

The book is incredibly international, with authors from all over the world contributing stories that highlight particular cultures, and bring into focus the similar experiences that everyone faces. And “faces” is the right word – these are not joyous stories, indeed some are harrowing, and most share an interesting sort of disconnect. This disconnect is between reader and the character and it almost emphasises the vacant nature of the town hall, which when you think of the way some stories do not reference the hall, makes for a whole new topic of discussion. Similar too is the basic storytelling method, one of the reasons the book is so disturbing in that fascinating way. The often sparse language, the difference in dialects and speech patterns that don’t necessarily conform to the author’s choice of setting, and the hard-hitting atmosphere these elements bring to the table.

There is a specific theme that runs through most of the book, that of politics, society, and domesticity. They may be different subjects generally, but the way they are all compiled in one binding effectively puts across the fact that they are connected. Though it is not as simple as saying that politics affects society that affects domesticity. In addition there is the theme of self and how one fits into the world. There are stories focusing on themes such as cleaning an old work place that was important to the person, a loss of place in the life of one’s child, seeking sanctuary in the church, the difference between sisters, and the loss of self and identity that can happen after an accident.

Burdensome womanhood: inviting unwanted attention from unsavoury men who give themselves permission to see a young sapling as a full-grown tree, ready to be mounted. Tiresome womanhood: bringing with it expectations of marriage, of fecundity and of the fruit of the womb. Worrisome womanhood: ushering in responsibilities and tentative, anxious dreams for one’s offspring. Militant womanhood: in a state of perpetual readiness to do battle, a lioness ready to kill for her cubs.

Bakker has achieved his aim of creating something new from something already existing, as well as creating an art book, a literary work, and a combination of both. Still would make a superb addition to the shelves of anyone who favours the freedom provided by short stories and the quick dose of cerebral reading that accompanies them.

The quotations used in this review were taken from the stories of Justin Hill and Barbara Mhangami-Ruwende respectively.

I received this book for review from the editor, Roelof Bakker.

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Can obeying the king lead to happiness?

Publisher: Carina Press (Harlequin)
Pages: 284
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-4268-9400-8
First Published: 2nd July 2012
Date Reviewed: 4th November 2012
Rating: 4.5/5

Katrin was trapped in a wretched marriage, a match made in the interests of her uncle, the king. Now her husband has died, Ethelred wants to make another match for her in order to suit his interests, but Katrin does not want to be sold again and tries to resist. She can’t resist her uncle’s sword-theyn, however, albeit that he is much lower in status than her. If her uncle finds out it may be their undoing, however Katrin may find the outcome better than she’d thought to hope.

Whilst the official blurb of this book gives a lot more insight into the narrative, having, as it does, two heroes, it seemed a good idea to provide only the basics here in case this is your introduction to the book.

Navarre’s Anglo-Saxon tale is in a similar league to the famous Elizabeth Chadwick, featuring sweeping romances, politics, and a cast of believable characters. Navarre’s heroine may seem weaker, but she fits the time. In fact there is a balance within Katrin; she is strong in personality and aims to be as active in domestic society as possible, but she realises where it is better to step back and be meek in order to save her skin. Navarre aptly portrays the men of the time, in fact the first hero, Eomond, is a particularly alpha hero, being incredibly domineering though obviously enthralled by Katrin. It might take the reader some getting used to, this strong woman who will bow down when the pressures of her era take over, but Navarre always keeps her heroine steady – Katrin will always find certain situations difficult and won’t change her personality or feelings at any time. She recognises danger and takes the safest route, and when she knows she can be bold she will be. There is development in the way that Katrin decides to act, namely that she will throw caution to the wind after a time spent assessing the situation, and the way that Navarre makes the development of Raphael match that of Katrin is wonderful.

As said, Eomond is a rather strong character. At times the reader might wonder where the story is headed due to the way he treats Katrin, but Navarre balances it out via his love and his frustrations at his low situation in life. It is interesting, due to Eomond’s character, that the later Raphael is so different. The better match Katrin finds in him seems to demonstrate the difference between the woman naïve about love, and the woman who knows what she wants. Where the heroes are strong but likeable, the author deftly illustrates the fact that Katrin is rather lucky – the other men in her life are not as caring, and indeed King Ethelred himself makes for difficult reading.

It must be noted that Navarre has taken artistic liberties with the history she uses. The good thing is that this is discussed at the back of the book. Anyone who finds Ethelred hard to bear can take note that Navarre made him that way (and it’s nice that whilst the fictional Ethelred is rather horrid, he’s not nearly as misaligned as Gregory’s Anne Boleyn). That said, the basic period has been adhered to, and the interested reader will find that the politics and basic society of the day mirror Navarre’s portrayal.

The romance(s) are well written and mostly devoid of discomfort (the odd phrase may sound over-much, it’s up to the reader to decide how much historic-sounding phrasing they are okay with). Navarre does not always draw the curtains around the bed; when described the scenes are such that they add to the story. For surely scenes where the sex is accompanied by a burgeoning sense of emotional realisation can only develop the narrative further. What is interesting is the way, given the characters Navarre created herself, the strict Christianity is woven into the romance. Rather than simply relegating ideas of pleasure to prostitution and mistresses, and pro-creational intercourse to a marriage, Navarre demonstrates how the church viewed such concepts and how the people sought to align with them – or not, as sometimes happens, which in itself provides a good insight into how early Christianity could hinder relationships when adhered to.

The writing is generally good. There are a couple of occasions when words sound a bit off, for example near the beginning characters say “I say” and “look here” as though they’ve just stepped out of a wardrobe, chain mail is called ring mail, and there is perhaps a bit too much effort made to make the dialogue historic, but these do not detract from the overall experience. Accents remind you of the native lands of the characters as well as the fact that the story started in Scotland, and there is ample medieval phrasing that does work. Katrin has a tendency to think to herself a lot, which sometimes feels strange after all the third-person narrative, but it suits the story to have the insight it provides and offers a real chance for the reader to see what went on in the mind of a strong medieval woman. And it gives evidence and reasoning for the way Katrin acts where dialogue and regular narration does not suffice.

By Royal Command is a stunning epic that spans a long enough period of time for the reader to feel they’ve learned something, without being so long that gaps are present. Whilst being incredibly serious in its illustration of life the book glitters with fantastical romantic elements and plenty of emotion. And whilst having romance at its heart, it doesn’t shy away from the difficulties of the day in terms of gender, political marriage, and sexual relations, as well as showing well how these same elements affected both men and women. In Navarre’s case, men especially, which makes the social history all the more poignant.

History, fictional but fine characters, and a good dose of true politics. By Royal Command rivals the best.

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