What happens when no one is telling the truth about how they feel?

Publisher: Gallic Books
Pages: 253
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-908313-29-4
First Published: 12th September 2012
Date Reviewed: 30th September 2012
Rating: 4.5/5

Original language: French
Original title: Le Confident (The Confidant)
Translated by: Alison Anderson

Upon the death of her mother, editor Camille starts receiving letters from a sender who only gives his first name. Believing the letters to be a clever method of mailing a novel, Camille does not realise for a while that the correspondence relates to her own life. The story of lovers split by outside events and other people, of babies conceived for questionable reasons, and of the hatred of everyone for everyone else, does not register as real until Camille finds proof of its relevance. The meaning of the words is catastrophic, and it seems the sender is the only one who knew the truth. Until now.

The Confidant, translated from the French by Alison Anderson, is a story about how selfishness, and misplaced belief and love, can become so twisted around each other that they leave truth to be confined to the mind – never spoken, with dire consequences. Set against the backdrop of the German invasion of France during World War 2, the factual history included weaves its way into the narrative to create situations that further destroy the humanity of the characters.

And like all stories with a similar narrative – in the way that it feels, the atmosphere, the confusion – it may be difficult to enjoy the book in the usual sense. In regards to the characters, it is difficult to be impressed by a group consisting of a sexual pervert, an obsessed and allegedly dangerous childless woman, and a younger woman who appears to lie to everyone. These aspects take a while to become apparent, but they may be difficult to comprehend when they do. What is interesting, however, is the way one may question their opinion of Camille as the book continues.

The book is told using a series of letters – all sent by Louis but formed of both his words and the words of others – as well as the thoughts of Camille as she comes to the end of each instalment of the story. The formatting is a little unorthodox, the use of a typeface generally spurned by the publishing industry, but it has the interesting affect of not only ensuring the reader knows who they are listening to but of actually adding to the atmosphere; Camille, is incoherent at times, her world a confusion to herself. Indeed the first couple of pages are so peculiar in their written style that you could easily believe Anderson’s translation poor, were it not for the elegance of the rest of the book.

The book is actually rather short, due to both page count and the easy-to-read nature of the text. But Grémillon makes the most of what she has – everything included is important, there are no “filler” events and there is no feeling that the book would have been better served by additions. The narrative gets right into the action, Camille provides a brief but sufficient background, and whilst Louis rushes on occasion it is not a drawback. It is a very welcome style in a world where books continue unnecessarily.

One ought not to feel disappointed by the predictability of the tale, indeed if you read the blurb you will know a lot, and the reason is that Grémillon wishes to explore her topics with a reader who will know, confidently, what she is talking about.

And if the most obvious theme is cause and affect, then the major theme is surrogacy (this comes to light as the major theme in part due to the acknowledgements in the back of the book). Being infertile in the 1930s and 1940s was of course nothing like it is today with all the advancements we have made both technologically and socially. Grémillon shows how society placed such a role in the expected life of a woman, and how it could affect those women who did not live up to the standard set. Due to the narrative structure, and the way in which the author divulges the characters’ beliefs and thoughts, the suggested routes to happiness are laid bare, often with the consequence of creating burdensome personalities. Grémillon portrays the historical infertile woman in the extreme – which creates some of the gross horror in the book – as well as discussing surrogacy in more simple terms. And to a great extent her discussion is relevant today, highlighting the issues that can surround a woman who agrees to carry a child for another without the experience of knowing how such an occasion will make them feel.

It is impossible to retain the same opinions one had at the beginning of the novel once the end has been reached, such is the fine decision Grémillon made to explain the story from different angles. The book does require diligent attention but it rewards with clarity and confirmation. And in addition it also provides a basic knowledge of the lives of the French in German-occupied Paris, which describes in subtext, if not always via direct experience (of the characters), the martial law of the time.

When I try to understand the reasons behind the whole tragedy, I always come to the same conclusion: if Annie had not been passionate about painting, none of this would ever have happened. I am as certain of this as are those who maintain that if Hitler had not failed his entrance exam to art school the world would have been a better place.

It may not be easy to like what happens in The Confidant but that is not the point and Grémillon is not worried if you feel that way. What matters is the subject at hand, the details imparted, and in that the book has surely succeeded in its conquest.

The Confidant was originally written in French, and was translated into English by Alison Anderson.

I received this book for review from ED Public Relations.

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When “forever” doesn’t mean “forever” for reasons that no one’s considered.

Publisher: Broadway (Random House)
Pages: 294
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-307-71988-1
First Published: 2011
Date Reviewed: 18th June 2012
Rating: 4.5/5

Shelley’s husband died from a bomb in a backpack on the subway in Madrid, a few years after they had met. Two years afterwards Shelley is still grieving, and when she answers the door to a man who looks like her husband and says he is Max’s grandson, she wonders if the bruise to her head she gained when she fainted on the doorstep is the reason why she is seeing the impossible. But Paulo isn’t Max. Indeed Paulo has issues of his own, he wants to know who his grandfather is because he knows the man is still alive. And for Paulo to find out who Max is, he must ask Shelley, even if this will be the first she has heard of it too.

Before Ever After is the debut novel of an author who shows much promise. It successfully combines a range of ideas and genres to create something not merely magical but also extremely romantic, up-to-date, and informing. At once a travel log, a historical fantasy, a comedy, and a tragedy, the book presents itself as something incredible.

The story is told through a compilation of flashbacks and present-time reflections. As the basic idea is for the characters to discover who Max is, the flashbacks are used in order to show how Max had hinted at things all along, and the present-time is used for Paulo and Shelley to work out what was going in. Indeed the flashbacks are stories within a story within a story, the book is three layers thick, but the structure and format means that you will never be at a loss for what time period you are currently reading about. The setting of the present day is mostly a plane, which gives the characters plenty of time to chew things over, and while you may find yourself wanting it to be over already so that you can meet Max, the fast pace of the novel means that the satisfaction of reading it and taking in all of the information is much more exciting. Indeed you never know if you actually will get to meet Max in the present time, and that in itself spurs you on because he’s such a great character that you really hope you will. All of the suggestions and especially the very first page of the book, tell you that he is very likely paranormal in some way, but Sotto does a good job of letting you wait to find out if it is true or not. And you will be wondering until the end.

“Now listen campers,” Max said. “Take note of this place in case you get lost during our field trip and need to find your way back home. If you don’t think you can remember where we started from, you can purchase a baguette and leave a trail of bread crumbs. Oh, and before we head off, there are three things you must remember. First, don’t talk to strangers. Second, you need to be aware that your travel insurance does not cover acts of stupidity or alien abduction. Please do your best to avoid them. And third, hold on to your mates.”

[…]

Shelley raised a brow. “Mating?”
“Mating,” Max said, “from the word mate, a word derived from the Old Dutch word maet or companion, which shares the same root as mete, which means ‘to measure’.”
“I see,” Shelley said. “So what you are in fact offering me is a measure of companionship, correct?”
“Indeed.” Max stuck out the crook of his arm. “The length of my arm to be exact. All in accordance with the guidelines of the Poultry Club, I assure you. You won’t get lost, I have a place to rest my arm, and the chickens are secure in my fidelity.”

Max is one of those characters who comes along very rarely. This reviewer would liken him to Mr Rochester of Jane Eyre and Max de Winter of Rebecca for his difference – whilst he is not like them he shares with them this certain uniqueness in quality. Max is surely a great romantic hero, yet on the face of it, for his dialogue, he is anything but. Shelley may be a strong heroine in herself, but Max is the winner here.

The inclusion of Shelley allows Sotto to show her reader a widely known issue, that of being afraid of relationships because of prior hurt. Shelley is almost paranoid about being a relationship, keeping a list on her at all times that tells her when to jump ship from dating a man – to ensure she doesn’t end up like her widowed mother, who in turn showed her how much depression could come with loss. Max too is worried about losing people, and this is apparent throughout the book; it is the way the couple figure out their relationship in a way that works for them that is so compelling.

Another factor in the book is the number of everyday issues and taboos Sotto fills her story with, and the way that she includes them like any other element. This is done through the secondary characters. Max and Shelley met when Shelley decided to sign up to join the tour group Max was taking to the continent, and it is the people on the tour with them that make the novel so valuable. The tour group consists of a young American called Dex – Shelley’s cultural male counterpart, Rose and Jonathan – an elderly couple in the prime of their sexual lives, and camera-wielding Brad and his partner Simon. Rose is very open about her sex life, and Brad and Simon are just a gay couple – there is no reasoning behind anything, Sotto has included subjects to be as normal as anything else, and this lack of pointed political correctness in a book that otherwise oozes it is particularly refreshing. With the historical content and present-day happens race is also included, and Max’s nature as a possibly paranormal person is drenched in issues of morality.

She sank her teeth into melted cheese and summer, unleashing a silk stream of eggs and cream in her mouth. A buttery earthiness lingered on her tongue. She gulped orange juice to keep from moaning from the world’s first egg orgasm.
Rose gave Shelley a knowing look. “I came as well, dear. Twice.”
Jonathan sputtered, turning a shade brighter than the raspberry preserves on his baguette. “Ah… um… yes, yes, wonderful eggs, Max. Très magnifique.”
Shelley did not recover quite as elegantly, and was still choking on the juice that had spurted out of her nose and onto Max’s shirt. Max came to her rescue with a couple of solid pats to her back, a napkin, and a grin.

Considering Rose’s frankness about her sex life, it should not surprise you that at times the book is hilarious. Whilst it is not graphic, Sotto lets the jokes run wild and there are numerous references to loud noises and length as much as there is travelling around the continent.

And travel makes up a huge section of this book, providing the basis for the character’s meeting, the reason for the history, and what Sotto wanted to talk about as a keen traveller herself. There is a great deal of information on the places visited, which are diverse in location and culture. What is interesting is that Sotto is relentless in her goal of introducing her characters, and thus her readers, to lesser-known gems in Europe. Through these lesser-known places, Sotto is able to create the world she wishes for Max to explain to his tourists, and it gives her free reign in the historical fiction department. Quick research will show you what is factual and what is not, and this is another part of what makes the book so appealing, that you are reading a blend of travel log and history and learning so much all at once. The historical rewrites are something in themselves, with Sotto often referencing well-known figures in order to provide background context, and twisting both facts and possibilities, such as the idea that Marie Antoinette’s Petit Trianon was a place of debauchery, in order to produce the result she wants. Stretching from the 1970s all the way back to Ancient Rome, across different religions and cultures, with a variety of fantasy characters and just plain interesting ones, there is bound to be something to interest you in the history chapters.

“I told you it was nothing,” Adrien said. “Although the duchess did appear to be the tiniest bit cross with me. But then again, I could be mistaken.”
“Mistaken? How so?”
“Well, I was rather busy dodging the various heavy brass objects she was throwing my way to really pay attention to what she was saying.”

There are a couple of less positive factors to the book and these concern the way Sotto uses description. There is an excess use of similes where what is really happening is sacrificed for descriptive and poetic metaphors. The issue with the similes is that they create melodrama in places where melodrama is not needed and can sometimes cause confusion as to what is happening. And there are short bursts of info-dumping and a few clunky dialogues. However these negative parts are rather like the excessive use of humour in a Terry Pratchett Discworld novel – it is easy to accept because the good vastly outweighs it and it is understandable that Sotto is still coming into her own as a writer, still working out her style and voice. The plot and characters are what’s important, and they are enough to keep you reading when the written word falls down a bit.

Before Ever After is a very apt name, giving you everything you need to know about the book without really giving you anything at all. If this is what happened before, then what happens after? Is there an after? Was there ever really a “before”?

The scent of strawberries, or rather what strawberries might smell like if they were made from melted plastic and disinfectant, filled the white-tiled room.

It is impossible to do justice to this story. Let that statement be the conclusion.

I received this book for review from Crown Publishing Group, Random House.

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Speaking to Samantha Sotto about Before Ever After, Love & Gravity, and A Dream Of Trees (spoilers included)

Tune in as Charlie Place and Samantha Sotto discuss characters that join you in your car in the midst of a traffic jam, time travelling with Issac Newton, switching from your fully researched work in progress to a story that needs to be told, and… chickens?

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

Death awakens life.

Publisher: Peirene Press
Pages: 157
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-9562840-7-5
First Published: 2009 in Danish; 2012 in English
Date Reviewed: 14th June 2012
Rating: 5/5

Original language: Danish
Original title: Mordet på Halland (The Murder of Halland)
Translated by: Martin Aitken

Bess is woken by the sound of someone being shot – her husband. She had fallen asleep in another room when he’d want to go to bed and she’d wanted to keep working. Who murdered Halland? The neighbours think it was Bess, but it soon becomes obvious that that idea is wrong. Bess tells the reader of her life with Halland, and how they had grown apart. She loved him, and she is grieving, but is she grieving for him?

If there’s one thing reading Peirene Press’s translations for the last year or so has taught this reviewer, it’s that she needs to time her readings with when she is most mentally awake. The Murder Of Halland, like Tomorrow Pamplona before it, is an incredibly complex novella that runs to the rooftops screaming a need to be discussed before full understanding can be reached. You can imagine how difficult this book is to think about by oneself.

Central to the story is the seemingly misplaced sadness of Bess. The woman appears to be suffering from depression, and from what she says at first you’d be forgiven for thinking she is upset with the hazy nature of her relationship. But what develops is a situation where the reader understands, better than the character, how she, Bess, feels, and why she is feeling that way. You might wonder if there was, storyline wise, another purpose for Halland’s death. Juul’s plotting is magnificent for the way she brings it all together.

Apart from this, from all the complex domestic-social-psychological discussion, there is a crime story. Who killed Halland and why did they do it? This part of the book is relatively easy to unravel and the motivations usual enough. What is interesting about it is that is shows a parallel way that people deal with a situation, and this of course links back to Bess’s misplaced sadness. Yet amongst all the complexities there was surely real love behind Bess’s decision to be with Halland.

Every character in this book is there to help Bess find herself, even if at first they just seem to be there as a friend or in the background as scenery. The secondary plot shows itself as a potential affair, for example, and the reader must work out if there really was one, or if the character is being truthful in the story they provide. And what does the sub-plot do to alter Bess’s state of mind? – in every case read the included quotations carefully to fully explore every issue and consequence.

The Murder Of Halland is confusing, intricate, and appears to be a whole lot of mixed up storylines pulled together. And it can take thinking about it afterwards to realise it, indeed this review has reached its conclusion precisely because it was written.

This is so much more than a murder mystery, and for that it should satisfy the delights of many a reader. It may be a short book, but don’t let that fool you any more than the suggestion that Bess was the killer.

The Murder Of Halland was originally written in Danish, and was translated into English by Martin Aitken.

I received this book for review from Peirene Press.

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None yet.

The issue is that the right path is considered the wrong one by many.

Publisher: Picador
Pages: 305
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 0-3304-1526-3
First Published: 2003
Date Reviewed: 31st October 2011
Rating: 4.5/5

Please note that I wrote most of this review over a year ago and that the tone is different due both to the shift in my writing style and the fact that I wanted to make reference to the book being a re-read. I suppose you could call it the ultimate reflective review.

Please note that as this is the second book in the series, there are likely to be a few spoilers of the first book in this review.

So Takeo chose the Tribe and forsook Kaede, but it’s not over yet. The Tribe are demanding things of him that he does not like and feels he cannot do, but how can he leave? For Kaede, the heartbreak is too much yet she knows she must remain strong and take what is hers.

You may remember me saying that I first read Across The Nightingale Floor, the debut of the series, when I was young, and that my recent re-reading led to revelations that I found uncomfortable. In my maturity I could now understand that Takeo was bisexual and that he had slept with the monk, but it wasn’t this that led me to lose some of my love for the book, it was rather that Takeo was so quick to sleep with someone else after having chosen a different path, no matter the gender of the person he slept with.

However sex was simply not viewed as it is today and thus anyone expecting Takeo to wait for Kaede should know that although his heart does, his body does not. In Grass For His Pillow he sets himself up for issues later on by the actions he takes. Though I agree with the book being true to history in such a way, I still cannot comprehend this man with an all-consuming love going and sleeping with others so easily. And while the book may reflect life back then, it jars with modern morality and does make Takeo difficult to accept. (I’m aware that I’m saying this even as someone who disagrees with projecting the present day onto history.)

Kaede is the complete opposite and a good comparison. For she is just as strong as Takeo, perhaps more so, and does very well despite the man-orientated society she lives in. It would be easy enough for Kaede in her growing power to have a fling with anyone she wants, yet she doesn’t.

Aside from this moral aspect however, the book is very good. There is some upset and Kaede is on occasion prone to fall ill when she recalls her passion for Takeo, which is a little over the top, but Hearn is setting up both of them for some amazing battles in the later books.

Many of the chapters are novellas in themselves, indeed if you’re a person who likes to read a chapter before bed you’ll have to abandon that idea here and go by page numbers. Hearn has her story well planned and does not let length hold her back. Despite this the book is an easy read and not particularly long. There are few dull patches. Where either of the characters are waiting for something to happen the author gives a reason and follows it through well and there is always Takeo’s narrative in his sections to keep the story interesting.

The reader learns a lot more about the Tribe in this book as well as some exciting genetic news, and Hearn pads out her world with information about the temples and the afterlife. The blend of history and fantasy becomes natural, so that when Takeo becomes invisible to escape an enemy it doesn’t wreak of convenience as it would in many other books. This reviewer was rather surprised when Kaede was visited by a goddess, as it is so easy to forget just how much fantasy plays a part.

The narrative is quick owing to Hearn’s equal division of the book between the two characters, and it all ends rather suddenly meaning that it’s good to have the next book to hand.

Although billed as a young adult book, the series will be better understood by those approaching the end of their teens. The adult content is at times shocking even to the older reader.

Grass For His Pillow is a book to set up the next one, yet it does not feel like a filler for the amount of effort Hearn has obviously given to it. The latter third more than makes up for the uncomfortable start, and many old characters return so that it feels very much like a book from the series rather than something new. Highly recommended.

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A rather epic historical flavoured with fantasy.

Publisher: Picador
Pages: 292
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 0-330-49334-5
First Published: 2002
Date Reviewed: 9th February 2011
Rating: 4/5

Please note that I wrote most of this review over a year ago and that the tone is different due both to the shift in my writing style and the fact that I wanted to make reference to the book being a re-read. I suppose you could call it the ultimate reflective review.

On the day his village was burned to the ground, Tomasu was found by a Lord who named him Takeo and took him under his wing. Now Takeo joins Lord Otori in wanting revenge, and it appears Lord Otori chose well, for when Takeo stops speaking through shock, magical talents begin to show themselves. Takeo’s not sure what’s happening but he knows that with these talents he may be able to defeat the tyrant.

I first read this book around its publication date and absolutely loved it, I remember staying up all night to finish it; through this I came to discover how fantastic February mornings are as the sun rises, something I try to be awake to experience at least once a year to this day. Because of my reading speed at the time, the climax took me 45 minutes to get through and along with the historic subject I was in heaven. But reading it again I can see the flaws I didn’t see then.

The book is a brilliant example of Young Adult Asian historical fiction (albeit written by a white westerner), and it takes the reader to various different locations without any big changes in plot. The main characters are strong, the heroine especially, and the reader is able to get to know them well in a reasonably short period of time. The talents are supernatural, but they aren’t over the top, they are in the main the sorts of talents that we often think might be possible to develop, such as acute hearing.

But something that I didn’t notice the first time I read the book, due to my age, was the main character’s sexual promiscuity. The character actually appears to be a closet bisexual, but this isn’t the point, rather the point is that the romantic storyline revolves around an intensely passionate love and then a moment later the hero will go and sleep with someone else. For this reason I had a lot of trouble accepting the romance in the book whereas the first time I read it I thought it was amazingly romantic. All I felt was that he was disrespecting Kaede and their supposed love.

However apart from this the characters are exceptional. They are very much a product of their writing time, written before Young Adult books became what they are today, and are all the better for it. The plot switches between them, Takeo’s chapters being written in the first person, and Kaede’s in the third.

The book is not for the faint hearted. Hearn never shies away from descriptions of torture and death, and scenes of a sexual nature are relayed in their historical truthfulness. For fantasy this may be, but the Japanese historical aspects are rather factual.

The story has it all, the keen warrior, mystery and magic, adventure, political issues concerning leadership, and a sweeping romance. It shows why political alliances were important, but family more so, and how devastating the wrong choice could be. It displays the extreme prejudice towards women, the strong Kaede struggling to be accepted as her father’s heir and having to pass up being known as the heroine of a part of the plot that cannot be told here if the plot isn’t to be spoiled.

This is not your contemporary Young Adult novel, and should be recommended to young people with care. However that said, for its realism it is nothing more than true to historical life.

Across The Nightingale Floor is fiction for anyone who has seen a wuxia film and fallen in love, for the historian who wants to know more, and for the dreamer who believes. It is not flawless, even if the hero’s movements are, but it is a book that will hopefully stand the test of time.

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