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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A witch has power, but in some cases only as much as her commander allows.

Publisher: (self-published)
Pages: 293
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-0-6156-8357-7
First Published: 12th September 2012
Date Reviewed: 29th October 2012
Rating: 3.5/5

Emmeline has always lived in a secluded area with her father, a father who tells her very little about anything. Longing for friends, she runs to the window when the sound of horses approaches their house, but her father tells her to run. Soldiers have come to take her away, and by the time Emmeline decides that obeying her father would be a good thing she is too late to avoid capture. The soldiers have come to escort her to the neighbouring country’s palace to wed the Crown Prince, an arrangement agreed at her birth, in order to protect her country. But no one will talk to Emmeline at the palace, the prince isn’t there, and Mahlon, the captain, isn’t quite as kind as his words suggested. Emmeline is apparently a witch, but she never knew it before and has certainly never experienced any power – so what is there to protect her from, and how long will she be able to continue to visit the King’s gamekeeper, Erick?

The Last Witch is a fantasy, set in a faux-medieval period, that deals with a somewhat unique idea: witches who have limited power and can be controlled. It is obvious from the book’s title where Emmeline comes in, but a lot of the plot is about how she starts to experiment and discover what she can do.

The premise and storyline are strong, but unfortunately haven’t been developed enough to make up for the speedy narrative. The book is disjointed, events happen very quickly before moving ahead a few paces, and there is not nearly enough detail. For example the reader does not witness Emmeline being reprimanded for escaping when the threat was heavy, and she escapes again the next day, as though she was allowed to come and go at will.

The writing is sometimes very good, but at others out of place. There are unnecessary question marks and suffixes that appear to be the result of an erroneous search and replace, and many grammatical issues. At times otherwise good dialogue is spoiled by a reversion to present-day colloquial terms, such as “I figured”, “gotten”, and “I sure did”. Whilst it’s not a bad thing overall for characters in fantasy novels to speak in a different dialect to the one associated with their history-based location, when not used consistently it sounds jarring. There are also episodes where plot threads get forgotten, however these are minor threads. The main issue is the narrative speed and lack of detail, which is a pity because the book would benefit rather than be hindered by a couple of hundred more pages.

Given that the book would benefit, it is not a surprise that the overall fairy-tale atmosphere is compelling. The book at times seems like a rewrite, though it isn’t one, and the basics of it are the sorts of elements that many modern readers look for. Perhaps best of all is the way Dee deals with predictable plot points. The book is largely predictable, but Dee uses this to her advantage, providing contexts and explanations that mean you are far less likely to be put off than you would be otherwise. And whilst Emmeline seems weak a lot of the time, this is for the most part fully explained, the necessity of development causing a slow transformation of Emmeline’s inner strength.

It doesn’t mean, however, that Emmeline is always understandable, and the reader may find themselves wishing she would put her thoughts into action once she has grasped the essentials of her power. Hard to read, too, is the character’s acceptance when people will not tell her what she wants to know. But the way Emmeline struggles with her wishes for friendship and people, balanced with how she feels when she gets that wish, is well written and devoid of the discomfort that could have occurred due to her never having met anyone – Emmeline is new to the world, but Dee doesn’t spend too much time on Emmeline’s thoughts. This may sound strange, and to begin with it may seem peculiar that Emmeline gets on so well with Erick, but as you read on it feels natural and doesn’t detract from the story – if anything it makes it better.

There are not many secondary characters so the reader comes to know all of the characters well, and there is time for wit and romance. To go back to the predictability, there is one element that may divide readers in regards to whether or not they pick up on the suggestions. This element is worth a mention because of the way Dee continually causes the suggestion to be clear and then hazy. It may at heart be easy to guess, but Dee isn’t going to let you go without a fight.

The reader should know that there is a lot of violence in the book, most of it alluded to, that is quite horrific on paper yet is appropriate to the situation.

The overall concept of The Last Witch is very good; the angst is strong but not overbearing, and the romance well written. The story races by too quickly, however the last couple of scenes, which are lengthy, demonstrate that with a little more time for description – other than world-building because a lot is spent on that to good effect – the book would be up there with the popular Young Adult recent releases. It’s good that there are more books to come, The Last Witch doesn’t end on a massive cliffhanger, and the set-up for the future is promising. And it’s good because for all the negatives, it is incredibly difficult not to like what Dee has created.

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

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You may know where things are headed, and you may be right, but do you know all of it?

Publisher: (self-published)
Pages: 233
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-615-69607-2
First Published: 2012
Date Reviewed: 24th October 2012
Rating: 4.5/5

Jodie hates… everything, which is a rather difficult position to be in when you’re looking to replace your old, perfect, house mate. But Piper’s getting married soon so she can’t stay, and Drew and Amelia have their own homes anyway, as well as each other. Jodie’s the last one left single in their group, but she’s okay with that, really. And it’s good that Drew and Amelia finally made the leap from friends to lovers, even if Amelia has a trust issue owing to a history of bad relationships.

In this, her debut, Amos has written a book that is completely character-driven; thus to explain more than the bare basics of the story would be to ruin it; the plot itself is rather simple and in the hands of another would likely not have worked. The reason Exactly Where They’d Fall is such a success is due to Amos’s skill in creating characters that are not just memorable and sometimes funny, but fully realised, described, and unapologetically true to life.

Jodie hated the idea of a first date. She hated it to death. Especially a first date with a stranger who she already knew she wasn’t going to like.

What is particularly interesting about the character development is that the main characters appear at first to be as different as chalk and cheese, but as the book continues Amos shows how similar everyone is inside and how hard it can be to categorise others when they are, at base level, going through the same things you are yourself. In regards to personalities, Jodie, for example, is rather strong in her hating and dislike, yet as you read on you realise it’s not just part of the humour (for it becomes such) but also expresses to the reader just how difficult Jodie can be to get on with – and in a way that doesn’t make the character an anti-heroine but rather someone you can relate to. Jodie is annoying, but not nearly enough to turn you away.

There is a lot of angst in the book, though not overbearing. It’s there, it’s realistic, and it’s the everyday occurrences that so many people have to suffer through, and it therefore works very well. It may be nothing new to the reader, or it might shed some light over issues you may not have understood of others; it is dealt with in a proficient manner that goes deep enough for you to sympathise whilst not getting bogged down for too long.

Lastly with respect to the characters, the careers Amos has chosen are not your bog standard chick-lit careers; there are no florists, party-planners, or dinky shop owners here. Jodie delivers babies and Amelia is an accountant. Drew and Piper are more artistic, but they have regular jobs as well, and Amelia has her yoga classes that are presented, again, in a different way than you might find elsewhere. The careers are woven into the story smoothly and become, to some extent, part of the plot.

With the overall number of characters (indeed the secondary characters are described almost as well as the main ones) there are a few romance threads. And whilst relationships form the basis of the story, the romance never takes over, hearts and flowers remaining at a good distance. The sex scenes are tasteful, the innuendo funny, and there is a great deal of emphasis on what happens outside the bedroom.

It can be hard to remember whose parents are whose, because each set comes with their own story and baggage; but the reader may find it worth their while to keep track of everything due to how the parents provide an active context for why the main characters feel the way the do about life and their choices.

The writing is for the most part very good. There are some repetitions – descriptions, thoughts – that didn’t need to be there, and there are also a few unnecessary pieces of description, such as “pacing on his feet”. These elements are noticeable, but not enough to detract from the story or reading experience.

Try being the last one left on the planet who wasn’t engaged, when she didn’t even want to be engaged, but she also didn’t want to be not engaged in a sea of engaged people.

Exactly Where They’d Fall is an often-comedic book, somewhat in the style of Marian Keyes but baring a very individual atmosphere that illustrates just how much passion and work Amos put into it. Her flare continues throughout the novel, and her fondness for her characters shines to good effect. The Charles Dickens quote at the beginning sums up the story well and the ending is quick without leaving any threads loose. Which is more than can be said for Piper’s dresses, which are still being made.

Exactly Where They’d Fall introduces to us a writer who is full of potential, but who has not left all of that potential to their next book. And in a world where everyone looks for maturity in the second offering, that is a very good thing.

I received this book for review from the author.

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After slavery came acceptance in France, which allowed something remarkable to happen.

Publisher: Crown (Random House)
Pages: 330
Type: Non-Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-307-38246-7
First Published: 18th September 2012
Date Reviewed: 19th October 2012
Rating: 4/5

Reiss details the life and career of the novelist Alexandre Dumas’s father, General Alex Dumas, born of a white French father and black African mother, who led armies during the French Revolution.

The Black Count is a remarkable book that details what can be learned from previously unpublicised sources to introduce to the world a fantastic soldier whom history had forgotten due to later racial prejudice. A rather long book for the sources used, Reiss provides ample context in which to set Dumas’s trials and happiness. This context can sometimes be a distraction as there is a great deal of it, perhaps too much, and it often goes off on a tangent. It is brilliant for the overall history and especially the history of abolition, but doesn’t quite match the premise of the book, which is to tell Dumas’s story.

However what is provided inevitably ends up trumping any arguments for premise; Reiss has given the history of slavery, abolition, general life, and the journey from acceptance back to intolerance. Whilst books about the period will include information about freed slaves and otherwise, the coverage and particular angle the writer takes puts them to shame. Instead of simply detailing, Reiss gets to the heart of his subject, discussing such aspects as the aristocratic day-to-day lives of free mixed-race citizens of the Caribbean and how accepting pre-Napoleonic France was of such citizens when they arrived in Europe. The author opens the door to a world that the modern world in general does not know nearly enough about, and it is surely important that these facts, as they relate to our present day, are provided for general consumption. In fact, the first few chapters themselves are so detailed as to render a several week course in colonial slavery somewhat superfluous. Reiss even includes the irony that came with a society suddenly finding their fashions being lauded by ex-slaves, feeling the need to be meticulous in their rules concerning the ban of such fashion in the colonies.

When, years later and by then a war hero, he lost his lackey in a storm at sea, he would find himself in a true predicament: facing enemy attack was one thing; arranging his own clothes was quite another.

Reiss provides all the knowledge he can about General Alex Dumas, the hero of wars who single-handedly won battles whilst living in a racially liberal world. He, Reiss, goes back and forth between sources to surmise the most likely story and, crucially, includes excepts from Dumas’s letters that only serve to further what is said – Reiss’s conclusions and suggestions are the understandable product of reading primary source material. The writer makes pauses for thought no concern, there is no reason not to believe what Reiss says. Dumas is the family man, the freedom fighter who unwittingly becomes a victim of his side’s success, and a true humanitarian. Despite what later goes against him, his aims remain strong and well meant: a republic for the equality of all.

The cautious reader may wish to know whether or not a prior acquaintance with the novelist Dumas’s works are necessary for comprehension. At first it seems so, but although he may not say it, Reiss has made his biography accessible and details all the literature references needed. He repeats information when new facts are to be added. Also included are quotations from (the novelist) Alexandre Dumas’s own memoirs, and these are treated with respect whilst being analysed for what they are – Reiss explains that the son idolised the father and thus although his words are used, they are acknowledged to be biased when other sources present opposing material.

Reiss refers to himself throughout the book, and it feels very natural. The references are there to demonstrate the discovery and usage of sources, and also to better describe to the reader present-day situations, such as the difficulty in gaining access to a vault. It’s a unique way of writing, more often used in documentaries, but due to the overall style, it works. As for the style it is readable, casual. Reiss himself says at the end that he wanted to avoid making his work particularly academic. However there are some occasions when it doesn’t quite seem right, such as references to a modern person in order to provide an illustration readers will understand. It doesn’t work because the people chosen are not universal, and thus the handy metaphor can be lost.

Reiss has an evident enthusiasm for his subject, yet remains objective. Indeed considering the sources he presents it is incredibly difficult to see Dumas as anything other than who Reiss presents him to be. There is some bias, however, and obvious personal opinions – for example Reiss dislikes Marie Antoinette, who he describes as “frivolous” and “fierce Austrian music snob that she was”, and leaves it like that without elaborating. Yet he achieves his basic aim, to introduce to the world General Alex Dumas. The book may be lacking in Dumas detail, but it is difficult to put that down to the author himself. The availability of sources and the likelihood of their destruction means that Reiss has undoubtedly made the best job of anyone yet, if indeed anyone else has tried. Such a work and research are to be commended for the valuable information they have uncovered for study.

With The Black Count, Reiss has done his job. May others now extend it and let it set an example.

I received this book for review from Crown Publishers.

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The search continues, and this time they’re heading east.

Publisher: Corgi (Random House)
Pages: 436
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-0-552-14803-0
First Published: 1988
Date Reviewed: 26th September 2012
Rating: 3.5/5

Garion, his wife Ce’Nedra, and their friends, are still on the journey to find baby Prince Geran who was kidnapped by Zandramas. Fate unknown but destiny acknowledged, the company enter the land of the Murgos on the next step of their trek across the world. It will take them back to the Ulgos and land them in danger with the sacrificing Grolims, but there will be one or two surprises also.

Eddings’s story here is more of the same, which is a very good thing if you like his work in general but likely off-putting if you are looking for difference. There is, as always, the continuation of self-indulgent humour, coincidences that take away all worry that people will not survive a battle, and the unfortunate tendency to present murder followed by yet more humour. And whilst the latter can and often does work in television and other works of fiction, sadly in the case of Garion and company it can feel a little insensitive. Indeed of the humour one must find it particularly enjoyable for it to not become ingratiating, given that it is used in every book in exactly the same manner.

And yet in many ways this book surpasses the previous, Guardians Of The West, and the entire first series, The Belgariad. There is far less info-dumping – where Eddings has always included an entire battle strategy multiple times in one book, here he simply includes a few sentences or paragraphs, meaning that the afore-mentioned lack of worry that the reader has, considering the battles never end in tears, is less of an issue; it’s easier to accept the lack of true thrills when there isn’t any unnecessary logistical planning beforehand. The story features fewer instances of characters suddenly appearing to save the day, and more interesting conversation and revealing background context.

But the additional angles linked to battles and complications can be a disappointment. Indeed complications are never really complications – a ship is wrecked, magic heals, a holy fire is put out and the accused is easily let off. Magic and coercion are obviously going to be used, this is a fantasy book, but it does make conclusions more unbelievable than they would be otherwise.

Eddings has a view on women, but what is it is anyone’s guess. On the one hand we have an author who creates strong women who have no qualms about raising an army and leading it, but on the other we have a group of male characters that worry about their womenfolk seeing the bodies of slaughtered people. A woman will go into battle and kill, but her male friends will still worry about how “the ladies” might get upset over less than that. And in these series it could be argued that the women are far stronger than the men. One could say that Eddings was writing before gender equality became such a big issue, but this book was only released, if one may make a reference to popular culture, a few years before Girl Power entered the 90s. In addition to this there is the constant usage of “yes dear” both as a term of endearment and irritation and given the quasi-medieval yet futuristic landscape of the world Eddings created, it doesn’t sit right.

But for all this there is one striking element in this book that is not as apparent, if indeed it exists, in the others. This is the way Garion and Eriond react towards those who kill violently for no good reason. They, Garion and Eriond, have their values but these are never thrown at the reader, resting steadily with the characters. The reader is a mere observer; there is no lesson in morality, which is just as well because on one occasion there is quite a lot of violent retaliation. What is striking, then, is the way Eddings allows the feelings of the characters to pour onto the page – the way that whilst they will kill without thought when need arises, they see the difference between needs-must and glorified hatred, but their thoughts of action are in most cases given a lecture by the older members of their party.

For the most part, King Of The Murgos is surely a better work than any of the previous, but as it comes to a close the incidences that suggest otherwise rear their ugly heads all at once. One certainly needs to appreciate Eddings’s style considerably in order to find the book a spectacular success, but such appreciation is not required for simple enjoyment. There are a lot of issues with the book, but it is still a solid example of fun fantasy fiction that will appeal to various age groups and both genders.

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