You can definitely have too much of a good thing, and it’s intended that this sentence refers to sex.

Publisher: (self-published)
Pages: 368
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-780-88574-2
First Published: 1st June 2013
Date Reviewed: 27th June 2013
Rating: 3/5

Alex and Matthew are back at Hillview but as the family grows and tries to enjoy life, soldiers keep visiting to investigate Matthew’s aiding of Presbyterian ministers. It’s true that Matthew is helping, but he cannot give up his faith and friends, no matter what Alex says. And with his son/nephew Ian spending much of his time at Hillview, issues with Luke might come to a head again.

The Prodigal Son is the third book in the Graham saga, but whereas Like Chaff In The Wind was rather good and suggested that this goodness would only get better, a backwards step has been taken. Whilst both the previous books (A Rip In The Veil was the first) suffered from editing errors, a lot of violence, and a bad use of language, unfortunately here these issues have doubled.

The most obvious of these is the writing. There are many editing errors, but more to the point the language Belfrage uses darts back and forth between an over-the-top Scottish dialect, historical language, some sort of nineteenth-century speech, and 21st century phrasing. Whilst the 21st century phrasing works, because Alex is from our present day – and the phrasing works for the children, too, as children emulate their parents – the rest makes the book disjointed. There is also a continual issue with people being relegated to things by the usage of the word ‘that’ when referring to them, in the particular way that absolutely needs to be ‘who’ in order for the sentence to work. Though the good thing is that there are very few questions ending in ‘no?’ this time around.

Undeniably, considering it forms the book’s basis, the best aspect of the previous books was the time travelling, the scene change between Stuart Scotland and 21st century Britain. There is no time travelling in this book and it is a shame because it was the most compelling aspect of the series. In relation to this there is but one short instance of Alex remembering her fatherless son, Issac, who decided to remain in the 21st century, and despite the fact that Alex doesn’t love Issac as much as she ‘should’, it is hard to accept that she wouldn’t be thinking of him, especially considering she often brings her father, Magnus, into conversations. There is a particular episode in this book that unfortunately underlines just how important to its success it is for Alex to remember Issac, as Alex becomes incredibly emotional towards another of her children. Alex may not have had the best ‘start’ with Issac, may even have resented his existence, but she would remember him from time to time.

The episode that causes intense emotion may divide readers. Just as it seems something very interesting is about to happen Belfrage makes a decision that can only be called convenient.

And it is convenient due to the next point that needs to be made. There is no true plot to this book. It is repetitious from start to finish – soldiers come to interrogate, Alex and Matthew have sex, Alex stops talking to Matthew, over and over again. The final resolution is minor. It’s nice that the story stays on the farm and that the family isn’t apart for any length of time, because the previous books already covered separation, but there is really not much going on apart from what has just been listed. If not for the repetition the state of the plot wouldn’t be so bad because of the character development (to be discussed shortly).

Sex scenes can be a wonderful addition to a book, they can contribute to character development and signify the love the couple shares, but here there are far too many of them. The scenes are all very similar, down to the phrasing. It’s wonderful to know that after nine years Alex and Matthew are still in love and lust but Belfrage infers that perfectly well in the dialogue, having the curtains open every night lessens the impact.

Again there is a lot of violence. In some ways just as extreme as before, in some ways less, but it’s the number of scenes that makes it difficult. Indeed it’s realistic, the law and justice were not at all like they are today, but when blended with the rest of the repetition it just becomes another filler element.

Thankfully the book has great characters, good enough to rise above the dialogue. Naturally, considering the amount of sex and the absence of contraception (and Belfrage does make the necessary point that the couple wants each other so much that timing sex would never happen) there are a lot of children in the book. Each child is very different and flourishes whenever the focus is upon them. And Belfrage continues to develop the historical characters in the manner you would expect considering their exposure to a time traveller. This is where the 21st century language comes into its own, where ‘okay’, Matthew’s understanding of the concept of reality TV, and children saying “so, too!” are brilliant additions. The family is a lot of fun and Ian’s story a fine idea.

Included in this time travelling influence is the strict level of hygiene Alex employs that works well except in times when people with or exposed to consumption are around and the woman doesn’t bat an eyelid. Baths are taken, vegetables are eaten, and people survive what are now easily fixable ailments thanks to her knowledge. And Alex’s education is in full swing here, the knowledge Belfrage referred to before is displayed in its glory.

And it must be said that Belfrage has made good use of the history. That she has researched her book is obvious, anyone familiar with the history will be delighted with the references, and those who aren’t familiar can rest assured that they can believe the information Belfrage gives them.

The Prodigal Son does not keep the promise made at the end of Like Chaff In The Wind, could do with another edit, and its filler-like feel is further cemented by the intriguing premise of the next book (suggested by the last pages). However the character development is good, the history fine, and it is hard not to like the set-up. If you have been enjoying the series you will likely want to read it, though it wouldn’t be too detrimental to skip it in favour of the fourth.

I received this book for review from the author for Historical Fiction Virtual Author Tours.

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Over and over again.

Publisher: Doubleday (Random House)
Pages: 465
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-385-61867-0
First Published: 14th March 2013
Date Reviewed: 30th May 2013
Rating: 4/5

Dying just after her birth, Ursula gets the chance to live again, and when she dies a little later in this second life, she is reincarnated a third time. Living many variations, covering many possibilities, Ursula slowly learns from the mistakes previously made.

Life After Life is a book that goes round in literal circles and has no end. Unlike similar though more specific stories – that of the film Groundhog Day and the Young Adult novel Before I Fall – Life After Life makes little note of the actual process, leading readers to work out the majority for themselves. This is both a positive and negative.

The only way, for most of the book, that the reader can know for certain why what happens happens, is through the book’s blurb. The book is structured so that Ursula constantly goes back in time, leaving out the sections she got ‘right’. It therefore does become difficult, on occasion, to know which version of events you’re reading at a particular time when there are multiple possibilities.

Atkinson deals with the deaths and rebirths in a swift manner, sometimes so swift the occasion doesn’t even get a full sentence. It is darkness and then birth, with very little wondering on what is happening and exactly why. If one considers other books that deal with a similar idea then one can assume Ursula has to get her life perfect in order to move on. Ursula makes a great many of the same mistakes each time, which adds to the confusion, and due to the way that the supposed goal is not reached, it does become difficult not to wonder whether Atkinson had any big plan for Ursula other than as a tool to present different periods and issues.

It may be, of course, that the structure of the book suggests that Ursula may never get it ‘right’ and that there are many more aspects to her life than the reader is privy to.

The book is understandably repetitious, and perhaps most interesting during times when Ursula experiences her so-thought deja vu. There is a lot of repetition about Ursula’s role as a warden during the blitz – it feels particularly repetitious but given that that was life, it is a fair shock about the reality of war, the gruesome details rarely displayed so much in other works.

This brings us on to the grittiness of the book. As well as the obvious idea, present from the start, that Atkinson wants to explore what might have happened had Hitler not existed or had been killed early on, there is also a great deal of feminism and sexism to be studied. There is one life in particular where Atkinson exposes the reader’s possible bias – you’ve been presented with a certain view of the family, got to know them, and then Atkinson provides a very different tale. This tale will likely colour the rest of your reading, quite rightly, and it packs quite a punch.

Because Atkinson highlights the way sexual education, when kept hidden from girls (her focus of course being early 20th century) can have dire effects. She shows how even after such effects girls still were not informed, and she displays the awful hatred of a parent who hasn’t bothered to teach her child anything but will curse them when a terrible event happens. This is perhaps far worse, in the context of the book, than the blitz. Atkinson successfully makes you love, makes you hate, and then she provides that necessary triumph of adversary in the next life that is so sorely needed. Her handling of every issue in the book is masterful, and due to Ursula’s constant reincarnation it allows for a particular modernity to grace the book. Being given many chances enables Ursula to be, if not a feminist, then pretty near one, and similarly she becomes a supporter or dissenter of other ideas, too. Having the hindsight everyone craves makes her, obviously, knowledgeable.

So then to the characters. Ursula is of course difficult to write about as her development is very different to your average person. She is likeable most of the time, and the rest of the time hard to understand. Given her vast experience, and the way it seems she needs to live correctly, it would be hard for her to be bad, though she does often make the same bad choices again and again. A lot of the other characters change depending on the life Ursula is currently living. There is a general focus on Teddy and Ursula’s other siblings, as well as many different versions of Izzie, who is another focus for issues.

In a book like this it’s difficult to find plot holes besides the end of the book, but given the way Atkinson rarely refers to the other lives a few things do feel amiss, for example at one time Ursula has a baby – assuming Ursula has a goal to work towards and there is thus some kind of Heaven or Nirvana in the future, where would the baby be every other time? All the other major and secondary characters are accounted for. And what exactly is the reasoning behind Ursula’s reincarnation? The blurb may suggest it, but considering that one ought to be able to read a book without the blurb, the book feels unfinished. Of course, again, that may be the point.

Life After Life is good, but it is repetitious in a way it needn’t have been, there is a great deal left unsaid, and the suggestion of intrigue at the beginning is nowhere to be found. Not explaining everything may work aesthetically, but it can leave you with a lot to think about and no way of being able to suppose correctly. At the same time the details are compelling and given the sheer number of lives, you do not end the book feeling dismayed that you’ll no longer know about the characters, because you’ve read so much about them already and truly do know them inside out, having had the opportunity to witness every part of their natures.

Ursula likely won’t mind if you like it or not. She’s already on to the next life.

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So that others may live…

Publisher: (self-published)
Pages: 338
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-0-615-78130-3
First Published: 2nd May 2013
Date Reviewed: 11th June 2013
Rating: 4.5/5

Incenaga witch, Emmeline, may have escaped Mahlon and Weldon and found happiness with the servant who turned out to be a prince, but as she always knew, that happiness would not last forever. As she and Erick prepare for their wedding another person seeks to claim her power…

The Underground Witch is the follow up to Dee’s début, The Last Witch, and whilst there are still issues with the text the book is leaps and bounds ahead of the first.

The book is plot-driven (at least in the main – Emmeline’s development is crucial). A fast pace runs throughout it and the detailing is good. Red herrings are used less this time around, but the somewhat predictable plot twists are not disappointing. Rather they might surprise you initially before you realise that in using them Dee has created more scope for future books.

The storyline, whilst inevitably sporting a ‘fight against evil’ thread as its base, is rather different otherwise to the last. Whereas there was a strong focus on romance before, here the romance is in the background, the love fuels Emmeline’s decisions but is less important than the action. And despite the fact that the chemistry is strong, Dee’s change in focus is one of the most successful aspects of this book, because she doesn’t spend any time letting the characters linger in angst longer than is necessary for the plot, which means that the story keeps moving.

This leads us swiftly on to Emmeline herself. The character was likeable before, but now she is a contender for strongest female character this year. Not once (again, unless absolutely necessary) does Emmeline give up her opinions, her will to fight, her sense of what should happen. She repeatedly stands tall in the face of evil adversity, but never so much as to overturn common sense. (This is of course partly because her power undermines anything her adversaries throw at her.) Emmeline is not simply a breath of fresh air, she is the entire gust of wind. When it’s necessary to give in she does so without losing hope, and never lets anything break her spirit for more than a few moments.

Erick is not as strong but then it aids the plot and the development of the relationship for him to see only what’s on the surface for a while. And Dee doesn’t draw it out for too long, practically piling the sense and other reasoning on him as soon as he comes to his nonsensical conclusions. The other characters are developed enough to make them interesting; given that the plot is the main event, it does not matter too much that they are not as detailed as Emmeline and Erick.

Whereas The Last Witch darted back and forth in time with little time spent where it should have been spent, The Underground Witch takes the literary equivalent of the scenic route, slowing down, detailing everything and generally seeking to create that which is now commonly termed ‘epic’. It’s true that the ending is quick, but given that this is the second book in a trilogy that was to be expected somewhat, especially given the obvious direction the third book will take (as intimated by the last paragraph).

Like before, the book is very violent. Emmeline is struck by her captor repeatedly and there are many murders. This is a series where the heroine is strong but ultimately lives in a world where men have the upper hand.

What unfortunately brings the book down is something that marked the last. There are many editorial errors – spelling, grammar, and there are times when the wrong punctuation is used (such as questions ending with full stops instead of question marks). If you enjoy the story enough they may not bother you too much, as this is a book where the plot is good enough to aid such a dismissal, but they are noticeable all the same. That said, there is good news in regards to the dialogue – the book lacks the proliferation of modern day expressions that mired the last, baring only a small number and all but one or two confined to description.

The Underground Witch may not be perfect but it is an incredible step up. Dee has advanced a great deal in the short time and it is a wonderful thing to witness. The book promises a strong end to the series and is a novel that one can recommend without hesitation.

Help Erick. Discover the princess. A very strong heroine awaits you.

I received this book for review from Sage’s Blog Tours.

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When worlds collide.

Publisher: Alma Books
Pages: 275
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-846-88241-8
First Published: 2012
Date Reviewed: 7th June 2013
Rating: 4/5

Japanese Reverend Oda was sent to the monastery as a child by his parents. The action saves his life and he comes to enjoy living in the temple. But the temple is moving on, modernising, and where there are now western Buddhists there is the requirement for a competent priest to move to America. The temple believes Oda is that person, but Oda feels very differently. And working with and teaching westerners who have not grasped the teachings may prove difficult.

Buddhaland Brookyn is a peaceful book, in its words, about cultural clashes and how they influence the working together of a group of people who must be a team. It demonstrates how, with more thought, people can overcome their differences and work together. Morais offers a poignant character in the person of Oda.

Yet it must be pointed out immediately that Morais’s Buddhism here is not at all the sort you are likely expecting, and this is true no matter how much or how little you know of the religion. Reverend Oda smokes and has sex, eats meat and drinks alcohol, and his fellow priests go shopping on the high street for golfing clothes. It is indeed best that the potential reader knows this beforehand so that they can decide whether or not it would work for them. This is in part because it means that so many of the cultural differences that would ‘usually’ occur in such a situation, are not here. (It should be noted that Morais says, in the acknowledgements, “My novel should in no way be considered a serious religious work…”.)

Yet the absence of the expected Buddhist tenets does allow for Morais to concentrate on the less general areas of conflict that might have occurred. Instead of dealing with, for example, the decadence of his American congregation, Oda must teach them that their faith is a little misplaced (for example believing that prayer helped a company survive). This is where the heart of the book lies, in the transitions that need to be made by the congregation, as well as the understanding Oda must develop of his adopted land.

Oda is at the heart of the book – his change as a person is the most important. This may seem odd considering that it should be the western believers changing in order to be true Buddhists, but Morais made the right choice. As mentioned, Morais’s Oda is a wonderful character, and it’s evident that the writer has spent a lot of time getting him ‘right’. And the flow of the story, the way it has the capacity to draw you in for countless minutes before you realise just how many pages you’ve read, is a very good thing. It ought to be said, however, that this does mean the secondary characters are not as developed and a lot of their inclusion is down to the easily-identifiable stereotypes they provide (Morais is not being prejudice, he uses stereotypes to make the conflicts simple to understand).

The book ends quietly, there is no great statement or revelation. It should be noted that depending on the reader’s feelings about Buddhism, or, more so, religion in general, they might find the compromises made – in light of what happens in reality – disappointing. Yet the book’s story and voice, and the feeling that it could have been a memoir, keep it relevant and engrossing.

This Brooklyn presents a very different Buddhism, but for what it is the book is a success.

I received this book for review from Alma Books.

Edited on 11th June to reflect the information later provided of Morais’s long-time interest in Buddhism.

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She was a punk, and he did ballet (or rather, played baseball), but there’s far more to say¹.

Publisher: Harlequin
Pages: 462
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-0-373-21063-3
First Published: 28th May 2013
Date Reviewed: 31st May 2013
Rating: 4.5/5

To win the current round of dares, Ryan has to get the phone number of the girl at the drive-thru counter, and it would have been a lot easier if she wasn’t a ‘skater’. Beth tries her best to protect her mother, whose boyfriend beats both of them up, and when she [Beth] takes the blame for Trent’s injuries, uncle Scott suddenly swoops in and takes her to Groveton. Beth hates Scott for abandoning her as a child, but the biggest issue she’ll have is when Scott introduces her to the boy who’ll help her find her way in school – and that person is Ryan, the jock from the taco bar. Baseball and grunge don’t tend to make a good match, but if Ryan’s to win the resurrected bet he’ll have to get past Beth’s curses. He’s likely to fall in love in the process.

She stares at my wrist, then at my jeans. “I see your tastes haven’t changed.”
“No,” I say. “But Ryan’s have.”

Dare You To is a book that will appeal to many readers, even those who would typically pass up on YA. McGarry’s story and writing style fit an older time – Dare You To is unlike the current crop of books out there and has an old school feel to it. The best way to describe it would be to say it’s akin to a darker, gritty, non-musical Grease, or 10 Things I Hate About You, where the hero and heroine are from completely different backgrounds and no one can see the relationship working. That said, the usage of the word ‘dark’ and the reference to these two films does not describe the book correctly. This book is similar at its foundations, but it is full of angst, domestic violence, drugs and alcohol. It could be said to straddle the border between YA and New Adult, and whilst Ryan may be innocent in his so-called perfect world, McGarry holds nothing back when detailing Beth’s life.

Given the above it may come as no surprise to hear that there is little weakness to the characters (of that annoying kind) and no silly choices. The characters are strong and although they both have issues, when they are upset, it remains realistic. There is so much detail and reality to these characters it’s evident that McGarry has put her heart and soul into the storytelling. There is a lot of angst and sadness, but none of it is excessive or there for little reason. The book never wanders away from its subject, and whilst the inevitable budding relationship between Ryan and Beth obviously changes things, invites love and romance, the characters do not change beyond loving looks and the odd understandable blushing and weak knees. They never lose sight of their dreams.

So to the darkness. This is not a book for teens at the beginning years of the life stage. Beth is 17, a drug user and a drinker. She has had one heck of a terrible life with her mother, a woman who will not protect her child (rather Beth protects her), and when Ryan meets Beth’s group of friends he provides the outsider perspective on what the group is (although in that last point, there is not so much worry for younger readers). And Beth is no stranger to sex. Her friends are supportive of her, rather than bringing her down, which one might have assumed from the first descriptions of their living conditions, Isaiah and Noah work to help Beth see that the life Scott has gifted her is the better one, that it would ruin her future to stay with her mother. Ryan’s own family has problems, though here it’s a case of perfection on the surface, and estrangement underneath. His town is religious, anything that bucks the trend and doesn’t conform is shunned. Everything blended together, it has to be said that McGarry has structured and written her book brilliantly, and without leaning on the support of extreme drama and the confrontation of multiple families.

As for the writing, as previously accounted for it is good. McGarry has a firm hand on the dialogue. Everyone gets to the point with little waiting involved, and characters say what you would expect them to. The book is told from the perspectives of Ryan and Beth, going back and forth between them. There are rarely any gaps in time; as soon as Ryan’s chapter ends Beth’s takes over in a heartbeat. This means that you get to see every shared moment from both points of view, and means that no curtains are drawn over uncomfortable situations.

There are but a couple of aspects that could have used a little more work. Firstly, there are several pages devoted to the plight of a bird that is clearly a metaphor for Beth. It’s not bad, but it continues for too long and the point is made repeatedly. Secondly, and this may not be a problem depending on the reader’s location and the media they consume, although Ryan and Beth are a ‘jock’ and ‘skater’, from the perspective of a reader not well acquainted with these terms and styles (for example a non-American) it may be the case that the wrong conclusion is reached about who the characters are. More description at the beginning would have worked well here, although it does become obvious later on. Considering that these two issues are not of paramount importance, it would be difficult to pursue them further, and in the case of the metaphor it is easy to see why McGarry used it, even if it is unnecessary.

Dare You To achieves something that Young Adult novels have not, recently, and that is a demonstration that one can write a romance into a book without glossing over the strength and common-sense of the characters. It offers knowledge of difficult subjects unapologetically and brings to the forefront the strife that is the social situation for many people, not just teens.

The decision for how to end this review is perhaps the most uncomplicated for a long time. Dare You To is an exceptional and different Young Adult novel that may be just what you’ve been looking for.

I received this book for review from Harlequin.

¹ A play on Avril Lavigne’s “Sk8ter Boi”.

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