Celia Rees is a popular writer of young adult fiction. Her focus is on history and magic.

Publisher: Bloomsbury
Pages: 367
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 0-7475-6469-8
First Published: 2003
Date Reviewed: 6th August 2009
Rating: 3/5

Pirates! isn’t as well known as it’s predecessor, Witch Child, in fact it’s likely that unless one is a dedicated fan of Rees they won’t know of it at all. As for myself I found it at random in a bookstore.

Nancy Kington lives in England in the time that Africans were taken as slaves and whites took over the Caribbean for their own selfish interests. When her father dies she is shipped to Jamaica where her brothers plan to marry her off in order to make money from a good alliance. When Nancy meets the man whom she is to marry she takes an immediate disliking to him, his villainous ways and middle age causing her to fear for her life. Help comes in the form of her befriended slave Minerva who, along with others, ensures Nancy’s safe passage to the outlaw camp. There she and Minerva make the decision to join the pirate ship that is on its way to the harbour. But in her dreams Nancy can see her betrothed on her trail. She must continue onwards while ever widening the gap between her and the young man whose ring she wears about her neck.

The story is told in the first person with Nancy narrating her and Minerva’s lives. This is akin to the method used in Witch Child that Rees is very adept at. Nancy begins by informing us, her readers, that she is writing her memoirs for an author of piratical books and then goes on to give us a history of how she came to be a pirate. This prologue, if you will, is rather long, stretching to about a third of the book, which is a disappointing surprise for a book named “Pirates!” In itself it means that an otherwise interesting story of the life of two women in the new world is a drag to get through as you wade through the pages hoping she’ll hurry up and board a ship.

The romantic sub plot is endearing and one of the major reasons to keep reading when the main narrative runs dry. Nancy promised herself to her childhood sweetheart, William, before her father died, but although they meet again a couple of times in the book it seems their lives will drive ever more apart. The book makes no promises of it’s own, you will not witness their marriage at the end and nor will their story tie up in the way that you’d like it to, but this becomes unimportant; the telling of the story is such that to give it a climatic ending would have cast any previous success out to walk the plank.

In some ways the mundaneness of the story is ripe. It echoes the boredom of endless days at sea. The problem is that you don’t really want that in a story, and in a pirate tale especially you want adventure. The character Rees created has a story to tell, no doubt about it, but it’s in the same category as those who wouldn’t make it into the history books for lack of interesting accounts. The idea of her betrothed pirate following her isn’t given nearly enough excitement and backing as it should and thus becomes just another addition. This means that when the man finally does catch Nancy one could care less, even if it is her fear realised.

The major flaw in this book is Nancy. She’s above most other girls of her status in that she condemns the treatment of the Africans and is more intelligent than most but still she is a weakling when compared to Minerva – who is far more interesting. In truth Minerva is the real heroine and Nancy simply serves as her biographer as without her Nancy would lose her readers within the first quarter of the book. This being her purpose it’s a pity Minerva isn’t given more time and is too often relegated to being Nancy’s saviour.

This brings us to the final flaw. Nancy gets captured, Minerva saves her, Minerva gets captured, Nancy saves her. It’s a poignant display of sisterhood but overkill, to make use of an accidental pun. They live for each other, we know that, it doesn’t need to be repeated in everything that happens. Nor do the situations the girls find themselves in need to be so obviously explained. If sex is too adult to be included then so too should the possibilities of rape be excluded.

Youth fiction should be adventurous, full of excitement, and heavy with adrenalin. Children need to make good use of their imagination; a dull book will count for nothing. This in consideration I cannot recommend Pirates! for young readers but only to those old enough to be prepared to lend their time in finishing it. It’s nice, but truly no match for Rees’s previous efforts.

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Freya North has numerous publications under her belt and often makes use of characters for more than one book without creating a saga. Her individuality within the chick-lit genre has earned her many fans and a literary presence nationwide.

Publisher: Harper Collins
Pages: 478
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-00-724594-9
First Published: 2009
Date Reviewed: 30th June 2009
Rating: 3/5

Secrets is currently one of the recommendations that comes up if you view chick-lit on Amazon – which is how I came across it, having never heard of North before. The cover is radiant in its shades of pink and it seems from the last few releases that the publishers aim to continue this unique style. It’s certainly eye-catching, something obviously worked on to achieve that effect. North herself has said that she judges books by their cover, and first impressions count.

Tess lives in London with her daughter Em. Her landlord wants his rent and there’s a knock on the door every day. But Tess has read an advertisement for a house-sitter in Saltburn and acts on impulse, setting up an interview and rushing north the very next day. Joe doesn’t take to her too well, her slightly over-powering nature over decisions for his big old house apparent before he’s even given her the job – in fact, did he give her the job? Didn’t she just turn up and end up staying? Neither Tess nor Joe particularly favour each other but as time goes on they inevitably find the things that irritated them turn to appreciation. Joe has many women on the go and a libido to equal the number. Tess also has her secrets. So how will they both fair when together?

The first thing that may strike you as a reader is the way North writes. She makes use of all tenses and refers to her characters herself (North plays narrator) as well as from their own viewpoint and in the third person. She jumps back and forth between tenses as though she’s set paragraphs to a formula. This will either be a welcomed change to most authors’ work or something you come to dread as you pick up your copy for another sitting.

Initially the story is vague, Tess is just someone, Em could possibly be her friend, and the knocks on the door might be her violent husband. All are explained in due course, though the latter much later in the book, though at first the reader is thrown directly into the present situation with no real knowledge of Tess’s background or character. It becomes quite confusing to learn that Tess is more cultured than you’d imagined from the descriptions given.

Yet North creates an even greater problem for our relationship with Tess. To being with, Tess is headstrong, intelligent, and ill-fitting of her humble London surroundings. As her story draws ever nearer the end she’s portrayed as weak, ditzy, and much more suited to her rented flat in the capital. Fortunately similar cannot be said of Joe who remains about the same. In fact the best aspect of the book has to be the way North has included Joe. He is given just as much time as Tess and is as detailed as her too. His inclusion makes North one of the only chick-lit authors men could be unashamed to read.

The story is solid – in its stoic way. There are no moments of excitement or really anything to keep you reading other than the descriptions of the characters which, to be fair, are top-notch, but unless you hit it off with the characters within the first few chapters there’s no reason to continue. The story, without revealing anything that couldn’t be predicted, is this: a penniless single mother runs away to look after a house where she falls in love with the owner and they live together. The only thing that isn’t predictable revolves around the house. Don’t get too attached to it, North causes quite the unnecessary upset.

Apparently there are secrets in this book, as the title suggests. But what’s “revealed” is nothing more than you’d already been introduced to or teased about and are simply things you knew but the characters didn’t share with one another. The book hangs on the premise of these so-called secrets – ultimately meaning that the book is a flop.

However all of the above pale in comparison to this, the last point I will make. As the characters get together and struggle through what life throws at them – which really isn’t much over the course of the book – Tess gets soppier and soppier. The narrative gets gushier and it becomes an incredibly cheesy romance book, the kind of thoughts and dialogue you’d expect from a Disney movie. If Tess dressed in a ball-gown and broke into song you’d either stomp back to the bookstore and demand your money back, or you wouldn’t bat an eyelid for all the surprising it’d provide.

With a little more thought, Secrets could have been a winner as it’s obvious North has the skill to be the best. As it is however, beyond the illustrious first chapters it’s no more interesting than your own summer holiday on the coast of a county near you and there is nothing to remember afterwards. You might as well just keep living your own regular life and borrow your other half’s books – it’s what Tess is doing.

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The story of the beginning of a triumphant creation.

Publisher: (Numerous, the one pictured is the Harper Collins 1998 edition)
Pages: N/A
Type: Fiction
Age: Children’s
ISBN: N/A
First Published: 1955
Date Reviewed: 10th April 2010
Rating: 5/5

This may be an old book and from a very popular series but it has been overlooked and forgotten by many. Thus I am making a point of writing about it.

Polly and Digory didn’t expect to find themselves in Uncle Andrew’s study when they went exploring in the attic. When Uncle Andrew catches them he gives them rings that send them to worlds far away from our own universe. The children visit an ancient world and finally Narnia, a place on the brink of life. But accompanying them is someone they fought to leave behind.

The Magician’s Nephew explains how Narnia came to be – the beautiful land, the talking animals, and, most importantly, explains the wardrobe into which Lucy later travels. It is a great short book, just long enough for children, and a quick read for adults.

Lewis conjures the perfect fantasy full of discovery. Although the children only visit two worlds there were plenty for them to choose from. An adult will register the humour in the book that a child will look over. That’s not to say it’s unsuitable for a child of course – Lewis has used the same tactic Disney do whereupon he fills a children’s story with comedy that the parent reading the story will appreciate. The writing style was clearly developed for children but that’s neither here nor there when there’s such a fantastic story on offer.

Something that has been discussed greatly in recent years is the correlation between the Narnia books and Christianity. You may have heard that Aslan is Jesus and that his humiliation at the hands of the witch in The Lion, The Witch And The Wardrobe is a clever retelling of the crucifixion; The Magician’s Nephew is Genesis, the story of creation and the serpent in the garden. It’s actually rather fun realising which parts of the book relate to what Biblical events.

This book is a timeless classic and you can do no wrong in picking it up and acquainting yourself with the introduction of a famous tale. Put on the yellow ring and see where it takes you.

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Just before the Second World War came the Spanish civil war. Its impact reached the deepest depths of the lives of the people.

Publisher: Headline Review
Pages: 574
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-00-718036-3
First Published: 2008
Date Reviewed: 5th April 2010
Rating: 4/5

Sonia likes to dance, but she didn’t realise this until she started Salsa lessons on impulse after finding a shabby-looking studio. It stood beside the boring old cinema she visited with her boring old and ever-so-slightly alcoholic husband. When she invites her friend Maggie to join her lessons Maggie becomes even more passionate than she and books them plane tickets to Spain for an authentic experience. But what awaits Sonia in Spain is more than dance lessons. Woven into the fabric of cheery, tourist-attracting Granada is a whole history seeped in conflict, one that draws Sonia into the heart of a world she never thought to explore and which seems to relate to her rather personally.

The Return begins as though a modern woman’s novel, a Chick-Lit if you will. Both Sonia and Maggie are likeable and the temptation to put your feet up and prepare yourself for a journey with them is hard to resist. What stops you is the blurb and it’s just as well because Sonia’s story is but one part in a saga of love and loss.

For a long time dancing is the focus. It offers a firm grounding in the traditional culture of Spain, and more authentically than any tourist package holidays. Rather than learn the steps you’re taught about the reasons for them and the history behind it. Accompanying this is a brief introduction into the discipline required in the bullring and the stages from assistant to matador. These stereotypes of Spain are engaged to help you submerse yourself in the setting while being valid as common occupations of the era.

The narrative of the friends learning Salsa comes to a pause when Sonia meets Miguel. From this encounter comes page upon page of information about the war told through the lives of the Ramirez family. Their function is exquisite – rather than tell the story of the war through the usage of a famous person or one with a unique account, Hislop has opted to manage her own creations. She has constructed a family akin to millions of others in Spain at the time, people with little claim to fame and with no influence, to illustrate the plight of the ordinary person in the street. It is very easy to become indifferent to something when you hear it from a second-hand source, a summary of lots of things put together, so by means of putting a bog-standard group of people in the spotlight Hislop forces the reader to take note and experience the feelings and fears of the people who suffered most. While it’s likely she interviewed many survivors and compiled their accounts into one it never comes across as forced or weighed down with different elements.

Laced into Mercedes Ramirez’s journey is a tale of love torn apart. While the cover of the book makes much of this romantic aspect the element is mostly confined to requited but unrealised love. It doesn’t lie at the heart of the book but rather to the side, as it’s not as important perhaps as the factual information but a defining part of the latter of the story. The character of Sonia is merely a vehicle until the end, where she holds the power to tie up the loose threads, more involved in this facet than your average character.

The book is very long and because of its nature one can at times sense a slowing down in the storytelling on the horizon. This does happen, but it’s not a burden on the reader because there are so many things you want to find out about that you’ll keep reading regardless – and sure enough, within the subsequent few pages you see the focus of the story change to another character. The different characters’ stories are provided for fairly and sections are split up allowing the book to move back and forth between them. The characters are as ordinary in themselves as the collective family, they each have varying interests and dreams but in war they are nothing special. Because of this you hear from the opposing side, the soldier, the traveller into exile, and the prisoner.

Hislop’s disclosure of the events that took place has been watered down enough for the disposition of readers easily affected by distressing descriptions, but only to an extent. Aeroplanes from both sides of the conflict rained down bombs, indiscriminate of the support of their victims for their parties. The aftermath of this was catastrophic but their further pursuit of the innocent when they fled their homes is incomprehensible. Hislop describes the gaping holes in massive crowds of exiled people as the planes followed their slow progress away from their native lands: the women burying their children and the suicides of those who could go no further. Being on the front line with the soldiers is only easier because of the greater publicity given to warfare. The novel also deals with the part religion played in the war. When the Nationalists took over they did so with the blessings of the Church, despite that fact that by taking over they had killed and continued to kill afterwards so many innocent people and ironically people of faith.

Without a doubt Hislop’s endeavour was to provide details of the Spanish civil war to a readership little informed, and a reminder for those who may have let it fade away. The Return will give you an insight into a long-spanning event left out of most basic curriculum. It will encourage you to see the atrocities committed, however for that you will also be welcomed into the world of Flamenco and be lead towards the beat of the music where the here and now are unwittingly left outside the confines of the bound and printed wad of paper in your hand.

Let yourself be entranced and educated, no matter how much you already know. The Return won’t let you down and yes, you will be rewarded with a happy ending. It may just be the one you’re guessing.

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Lesley Downer is a British-Chinese historian in love with all things Japanese. She has written many books on the subject but The Last Concubine is her first work of fiction.

Publisher: Corgi (Random House)
Pages: 596
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-552-15520-5
First Published: 2008
Date Reviewed: 20th June 2009
Rating: 2.5/5

The Last Concubine has been on the recommended list of Amazon’s Japanese fiction for some time. If you go in to look at another book of the genre it often pops up. As well as this, Waterstones bookstore has had it as part of its 3 for 2 offer for months.

Sachi is the adopted daughter of country Samurai. When the procession baring the country’s princess stops in her village the Princess whisks her away with her to the palace of the Shogun, the ruler of the land. There she becomes his concubine for the briefest of periods before he dies. Soon after the armies in the south rise up against those who support the new Shogun, wanting to reclaim the land for the emperor. Sachi is forced to flee under the guise of princess but her journey turns out to be far longer than planned as she meets significant people and learns more about her mysterious heritage.

The book is split into parts that are in turn split into chapters before once again being split into parts. Although this can make it confusing it allows the book to be read in bite-sized chunks, which is perfect when you don’t have much time. The locations are breath-taking and so well described that it’s easy to find yourself absorbed in the book from the first couple of pages; a mean feat that most authors don’t manage. It’s obvious that Downer has spent plenty of time researching 1800’s Japan; one of the many pieces of evidence lies in her elaborate paragraphs on kimonos.

On the face of it the storyline, until the end perhaps (which is one of the biggest cop-outs you could come across), is sturdy: a woman trapped by a life of ritual is given a second chance with the valuable insight that comes with having lived to the extremes. The main female characters are strong and likeable. They fight like men and know intricate tricks of the trade. The main male characters are happy enough to leave the spotlight to the women, the English character being particularly welcome as he arrives and shakes up the other’s beliefs on life.

But there are many flaws in this book. Downer’s plot descriptions are poor. The reason is this: she repeats herself. It’s as simple as that, and as it’s so simple one cannot understand why it wasn’t addressed during editing. Practically every time Sachi encounters something that sparks her memory into motion we are given a full run down of everything she remembers. Each time she remembers a particular place we are given the exact same structure of memories and as Sachi does a lot of remembering, far more than your average person, it becomes very wearing. In fact it’s rather surprising that Sachi never has a mental breakdown with all the remembering she does.

This takes us straight to the next big faux pas. The latter part of the book reads like a cheesy romance movie script that no director worth their salt would take on. From being a likeable and strong character Sachi turns into a drama queen, a fragile little darling who believes that the person trying to kill her should do it (the person in question thinks she is someone else and Sachi is happy for them to think that because she thinks she should bare the brunt of it). This is completed by a corny interlude where her friend rushes to take a bullet that was meant for another major character. All of the above happens within four or so continuing pages and if you weren’t already rolling your eyes and wanting to throw the book across the room you will be at this point.

Most of the book, the middle, is given to a journey, while the first part is wholly about the palace and the last about the war and then the war’s aftermath. This means that it has a tendency to drag; aptly like Sachi’s feet after all the walking Downer forces her to do. The beginning may have caught you and coerced you to enter into the palace with it, but the length of the journey will mean you lose your way. There are just far too many times where the characters are walking and looking at mountains. The only thing one learns is that Downer can fit the word “walking” in a paragraph several times over by using a thesaurus.

Downer makes Sachi remember time after time – is this to distract the reader from the fact that she cannot remember herself? Downer keeps reminding us that Sachi knows she can’t do what she wants as she is a woman – and then has Sachi think about the idea that if it weren’t for the war taking her mind away from her personal feelings she might have cherished her meeting with a foreigner so that she could tell her grandchildren about the event. As the late shogun’s concubine, we are told, Sachi must remain celibate for the rest of her life – and Sachi knows that, accepting it as her duty. Why then would she dream of having grandchildren to tell in the first place?

The saving grace of the book as a whole is the romance. The word of choice here is “you” which Sachi’s hero utters twice with no good reason and thus all the good reason in the world. You hope it will soar to dizzy heights but it doesn’t really go anywhere in style which is a shame as it was otherwise well handled.

Downer is a non-fiction author and undoubtedly this means that she spends a lot of time reminding her readers of facts they may have forgotten about in the mists of a book bogged down with dates and names. This has rubbed off on her work of fiction to bad effect. She is quite possibly a brilliant historian but that doesn’t equate to being a good novelist. She must learn how to convert her knowledge into a work of fiction that readers not acquainted with non-fiction will be able to relate to. She must also learn to use the English language correctly and wisely and keep track of her characters.

For a book that held so much promise, The Last Concubine fails in all aspects. As my boyfriend said on witnessing my frustration of the last chapter, at least the character is the last concubine so there won’t be any more.

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