When God is no longer that man in the sky but the father of a family that has no choice but to follow him.

Publisher: Crown Publishing (Random House)
Pages: 296
Type: Non-Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-307-58782-4
First Published: 16th July 2013
Date Reviewed: 30th October 2013
Rating: 4/5

Tom Kizzia recounts the story of the ‘Pilgrim’ family who appeared at first to be naïve wannabe pioneers in rural Alaska, but later proved to be problematic to the National Park Service, the local residents of McCarthy, and a group of people with a horrific secret.

Pilgrim’s Wilderness is the generally well-paced and well-written tale of a family that was not all what they seemed to be. Including tales of what came before McCarthy, and his own then-present reporting of the Pilgrims for the newspapers, Kizzia creates a strong and shocking story, reminding you that appearances can be deceptive.

Kizzia’s approach to the work is one of the biggest, if not the biggest, recommendations for it. Kizzia’s approach is both biased and highly objective. And whereas a bias can often detract from unpersonal non-fiction, here it is necessarily apt. The actions of Bob Hale (‘Papa Pilgrim’) warrant an incredible and understandable bias against him, and it is to Kizzia’s credit that he, the writer, stays away from slandering. Kizzia could not help but be biased, it would be intolerable any other way, and it is interesting that it may take the reader a while to realise why.

This is because for a long while the issues are all to do with land ownership and the way many dislike governmental take overs of land in the name of preservation. Kizzia is fair here, telling the reader why the Pilgrims had a good claim, and why the National Park Service had a right to feel irritated. He includes the various thoughts of the long-term residents of McCarthy. But the reader who is still on this section, if they haven’t realised where the Pilgrim’s tale is headed, may see Kizzia’s bias as unfair – it will all depend on which side of the debate (parkland or private property) they fall. Kizzia includes, one can assume, the whole debate, but he is bias towards the National Park Service whilst giving the Pilgrims’ opinions plenty of time.

Depending on how much prior information the reader has, it may only be after other details of the Pilgrims’ lives begin trickling into the narrative that Kizzia’s viewpoint can be truly appreciated. Providing all sides and quoting everyone when your story has a darkness to follow is admirable, and for all Papa Pilgrim and others’ thoughts on Kizzia’s reporting, he has strayed from the traditional picture of the entertainment-creating out-for-himself journalist.

Quotations are another element that should be noted. Kizzia’s book is full of the words of others; his sources are identified, his commentary backed up, and his views of people as objective as possible when possible. Crucially, he includes the words of the Pilgrim children, and rather than just telling the reader that they changed, he often writes in a way that almost hands the narrative over to them. It is obvious from the specifics of the writing style that Kizzia went straight to the primary sources whenever he could.

By now it will come as no surprise to say that the darkness in the tale is one of abuse. Whilst Papa Pilgrim based his life and rulings, in his mind, on a literal reading of the Bible, this was a man who acted in every way but the way his God wanted. Kizzia does not gloss over facts.

Referring once more to Kizzia’s style, the author has made a brilliant contrast, showing that whilst the Pilgrims did not live a truly Christian life (at least not so long as their father was controlling them) there are other families of similar appearance who do. When the Pilgrim children finally saw freedom it was in the form of a family who were not so different. The Buckinghams wore (and presumably still wear) the same sorts of clothes, share the same deference to gender roles, put God first, live in a cabin, and promote the virtuous way of life – but they are as different to Papa Pilgrim and his views as chalk and cheese. It is perhaps surprising to hear that the Pilgrim children did not escape their father to be introduced to the mainstream way of life but simply to a positive version of their own, and yet it feels very appropriate. These children were so far from twenty-first century life with its television, video gaming, sexual liberation, and shopping, that there is no saying how they would have faired, but the Buckinghams’ similar (but true) focus on God enabled them to stay true to who they had become. In any other book, the Buckinghams may have been regarded as a worry, given the Pilgrims’ background, but Kizzia shows that just because people do not meet expectations, that they share a visual similarity to problematic cases, it does not mean they are the same.

There are but a few places where Kizzia’s work is brought below masterpiece level. There is a lot of superfluous information in the book, of other people’s pasts and of Alaska, that could have been edited out to keep the pace of the narrative going – especially when those people play only a bit-part. There is a constant switch back and forth between eras of the Pilgrim family’s movements that becomes confusing to follow. And there is the unfortunate story of Kizzia’s wife who died from cancer. Sally’s life is of course important to discuss, but the tale of a law-abiding beloved wife who died of cancer included in the story of a lying, cheating, sexual and domestic abuser who raped his children and had no connection to Sally, is out of place. A memoir would be wonderful.

But, as suggested by this review, the work is, as a whole, an excellent one. Kizzia has given a long-lasting voice (as opposed to disposable daily news) to the children and wife of Bob Hale, as well as a voice to McCarthy. His handling of the subject matter and his approach to it are superb and it is safe to say that this book is one that won’t leave you any time soon.

Pilgrim’s Wilderness suggests reflection, asks for empathy, and relates triumph in the face of adversity. It is a difficult book to read, but it is a story that begs to be heard.

I received this book for review from Crown Publishers.

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Behind the decision.

Publisher: Salt
Pages: 113
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-907-77340-2
First Published: 1st March 2013
Date Reviewed: 22nd October 2013
Rating: 5/5

Ziervogel provides a fictionalised account of the last days of Magda Goebbels – wife of Joseph – and her family, giving a voice to those history left out and illustrating the sort of thoughts that could have led to the action Magda took.

Magda is a short and exceptional book that offers a bridge to the historical gap and a poignant look into the feelings of the Goebbels children. Blending well fiction and fact, Ziervogel’s book is an emotional ride with a swiftness that makes the story all the more difficult to read.

This swiftness is an interesting one and bares detailing. Whilst this is Ziervogel’s first book, her background as a publisher has brought a vast amount of specialised experience into the creation of it. Magda is short, but it is far from lacking. Indeed the book never once looses its focus; there is no superfluous content whatsoever. Of course the language can take a few words, as literary fiction is want to do, but the structure, plotting, and the execution (pardon the use of this word) of the story is top notch. What Ziervogel has done is remove everything but the one event she wishes to talk about, exploring other occasions only when an explanation of the characters is required. It is true that this means prior knowledge of Magda and her final days is needed for the reader to fully understand, but it is only the basics that are needed. The lack of historical information we have besides the fact of the end makes this a book that can be read with little context.

Ziervogel has given the children of the Goebbels a voice. She has altered the ages a little, in particular of the eldest child, Helga, but the reasoning for this is obvious. In making Helga older, Ziervogel has afforded the maturity needed of a minor to understand enough of what is going on to have an impact on the reader – without enough understanding for Helga to escape it. Of course the children did not escape, so a fictional escape would not do – and it is easy enough to believe that even at her true twelve years of age, Helga may have had some understanding regardless. Much of the book is told through Helga’s diary, and this brings us to the next point.

Ziervogel’s characterisation is excellent. The characters feel as true as they were and as much as we might say that the actual history would cause this story to be plot-driven, Ziervogel has made a case for the people themselves. Inevitably this all means that rather than thinking about Hitler, the Nazis, and their hatred, the reader is given an insight similar to that provoked by Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief – although Magda is about the very leaders of Germany rather than Zusak’s innocent citizens, Ziervogel reminds you that there were still true innocents involved even high up. Was Magda innocent? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Statements are made about her drive for wealthy happiness. But the children were far too young to be seen as anything other than innocent, unknowing victims of their parents’ choices. This is what the use of a diary for Helga creates; Ziervogel is not suggesting the reader should have a lot of sympathy for Magda – it is the children she weaves the emotions around.

However this acknowledgement of Magda is of course important. It is easy enough to see why Magda did what she did on a literal level, but otherwise we know nothing. Besides Helga’s diary, there are sections told by Magda’s mother to relate her childhood, and her childhood is also provided as a short of flashback by Magda herself. This is where the book is necessarily less concise.

Ziervogel doesn’t have answers – no one does. There were few witnesses and the event revolved around secrecy. But what the author does have is fair speculation for what might have gone on in the heads of those involved, and a feeling that we should consider the others who did not have a choice.

Magda is by its very nature a difficult read, but, as much as one can say so considering the subject, it is a stunning one.

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A fine story to introduce readers to ancient Egypt.

Publisher: (self-published)
Pages: 275
Type: Fiction
Age: Teen/YA
ISBN: 978-1-49230-609-2
First Published: 27th September 2013
Date Reviewed: 16th October 2013
Rating: 4/5

Twelve-year-old Tiy went to the bank of the Nile with her parents to watch the Royal barge as it sailed past, but when her curiosity wasn’t sated by the far off sight, she ran further downriver for a better glimpse. Hot on her tail was a sandstorm. As the prince and his friends leave the barge to play, Tiy has a choice to make – use her knowledge to save them and potentially harm herself, or leave them to their fate. She chooses to save them and her act of selflessness will be rewarded in ways she would never have imagined.

Tiy And The Prince Of Egypt is a story to fill in a gap history forgot. In writing her tale, Dee has relied on the history she was able to find (this is suggested in the author note) and constructed a story for young readers from what was left out. The target audience means that the book is by nature quite simple, lacking in detail, and often convenient.

And that is the way it should be. For the older reader, who must be referred to as this reviewer is one, the book may prove an incredibly easy read, but it would be impossible not to say that Dee has written something that is likely to open up the world of ancient history to her young audience. From the features of the story, one couldn’t recommend this to young children unless they were advanced for their age, but for the slightly older reader the book should prove appealing.

Just as she did in The Last Witch, Dee doesn’t coddle her reader. The violence of history, such as punishment for treason, is included as it surely would have been in the day – discussed as simply as if it were a question of who wanted coffee, and carried out without further thought.

It is this, along with the romance in the book, that sets it up as an older child’s read. There is no sex in the book, but there are scenes that might invite questions. The romance is drawn out and full of all the hearts and flowers. The theme of love envelopes the entire story; the characters are seventeen by the end of the tale.

There is not all that much action in the book, a lot of the time is spent on Tiy’s thoughts and day to day life with Amenhotep, but what action there is is thrilling. And whilst Tiy can be foolish and unthinking, she is generally a strong person.

What brings the book down a few notches are the errors and uses of modern day language. Perhaps many readers will not notice the language, but the keen historian will. The errors are of course a bigger draw back here than they might have been otherwise due to the target audience.

Besides the errors, the book is a fine story that will delight any reader looking for boys, adventure, royal status and to be a little awed. It is as much a fantasy as a regular story as much of what happens would never happen in real life, but reality wouldn’t be as appealing.

Tiy And The Prince Of Egypt blends a good dose of history with fun fiction and the sort of fantasy you look for.

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

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Mysterious writers and women at sea.

Publisher: SilverWood Books
Pages: 321
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-78132-017-4
First Published: 2012
Date Reviewed: 3rd October 2013
Rating: 3.5/5

Ben, a struggling writer in the late 1700s, joins other struggling writers for dinners at the house of a London publisher – a publisher he and his fellow diners hope to find favour with. When a book about a voyage to a new land is published anonymously, Ben jumps at the chance to discover the author’s identity and find that illusive favour. He believes he has a head’s start, having met a woman at the theatre who dismissed the tale of Cook’s voyage, but it’s not going to be that easy.

To The Fair Land is a sometimes rushed but informative story that includes the details of the fictional naval voyage along with its narrative of Ben’s search. Told from various viewpoints and including the female travellers that history would prefer we forgot, it offers a look at society in general too.

This look at society is in a way puzzling at times. The puzzle comes in the form of the main character, Ben, who does very little to recommend himself to the reader. Mainly he is simply an impulsive, thoughtless man, who is, although not particularly inviting, fair enough as a character – but there is a side to him that is incredibly historical, and however apt this may be it does make reading the book difficult. It will largely depend on the reader’s individual take on Boyce’s reasoning for Ben’s nature as to whether or not they are happy to read about him. Ben is prejudiced against women. He brushes off their opinions even when it is obvious these opinions are of importance, and goes as far as calling a calm, good, woman a hyena. This prejudice is not explained by Boyce and therein lies the issue – is this a commentary? Is this a device to show the reader the treatment of women in the era? Or is it just the way the character was written? The issue with Ben is of course that this is a book written in the 21st century for 21st century readers, and readers in our current time expect more detail and reasoning behind such views, whether commentary or otherwise.

For the most part the book reads as rushed, often to the point of confusion. In addition to Ben’s nature, there is rarely ample reasoning for certain turns in the plot. The lack of these things creates a situation where people seem fickle when they are surely not, and it can difficult to really feel for the characters.

In general the book could have done with more information on the characters (there is some info-dumping about minor characters) – Boyce has spent a great deal of time on the history so the potential was there for the characters. The history is fascinating, however. The information about the navy, the thinking behind the voyages, and the inclusion of other ships that set sale with women on board (there is a nod to Jeanne Baret, for example), is well presented. And, albeit somewhat fictional, the story-within-the-story of the exploration of the ‘fair land’ is engrossing.

The book employs changes in viewpoints during chapters which have the potential to throw the reader off course, though as they read, in many ways, as a compilation of reports and opinions, they would likely work if provided their own sections. On the subject of paragraphs, there are some editing errors in the book that require a mention because they are of the mixing up names and places sort.

Yet there is one character who has been written superbly. Sarah, in her ‘present’ form but most especially during the section which tells of her past, is a wonderful – if discomforting – character and very memorable. Indeed the addition of Sarah brings the question of Ben’s place as a device for commentary into the fore. If Sarah is so wonderfully written, then it does suggest that Boyce had a plan with Ben.

The writing itself is readable. Rushed narrative or not, the words flow quickly. And the account of the voyage is given slowly with much attention to detail. It is difficult not to get lost in the paradise Boyce imagines. The best part of this section is that it goes on for a very long while, and, due to the era in which it is set, there is a lot of harmony between the cultures that come together, making it a nice reprieve from the cruel white supremacy that soon followed.

Lastly, it should be noted that there is a certain sort of relationship in the book that may cause some discomfort, however Boyce has her cast of characters deal with it in a way you would expect of the era and situation.

To The Fair Land has its bad points and its good points. It may not work for everyone, and some readers may feel the scales tip in favour of the negative, but overall this is an aptly fair début.

I received this book for review from the author following correspondence with the publisher.

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To have and to hold – at arm’s length.

Publisher: Bantam (Random House)
Pages: 351
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-440-34431-8
First Published: 2008
Date Reviewed: 11th February 2013
Rating: 4.5/5

Camden and Gigi, married for ten years, have been living separately since the day after their wedding due to a betrayal on Gigi’s part. Now Gigi wants a divorce so she can marry her latest beau. It’s not going to be that easy. Camden doesn’t want to lose her, and at the end of the day was her betrayal so bad?

Private Arrangements was Thomas’s début. Whilst it may not be perfect, what a début it was (please excuse the usage of present and past tense here). The unconventional storyline – the infidelity of the characters – may divide opinion, but it cannot be said that this does not create originality in a genre that is already predictable due to its very theme.

The storyline is strong. It works in part because there is no infidelity within the confines of the book itself. Neither character has remained chaste throughout the separation, but when they are reunited there are no other physical relationships. Gigi puts off sexual relations with her lover for the duration of what is to be Camden’s yearlong time limit to get her pregnant with an heir. This on-page lack of extramarital sex may not be sufficient for every reader, but to those who are comfortable with the set-up of a marriage that is a marriage in name only, it will likely prove fair enough.

The characters are particularly well developed. Whilst neither could be called affable, they are strong people (to an extent) who know who they are, what they want, and take the necessary steps to get it. Gigi is the strong woman of wealth who has compassion for all, and Camden, whilst an alpha hero, has a sensitive side.

The chemistry is something special. The characters are a good fit and both their meetings and sexual relations are believable. Though in this there is cause for contention. It could easily be argued that some, if not most, of the sex is non-consensual – Gigi agrees to the plan of getting pregnant, but Camden’s solo decisions to suddenly ‘take’ her can seem rather selfish and arrogant. And whilst Gigi takes precautions (yes, this, because she’s not so sure about having children), Camden’s overruling of it is difficult to read, even if there is some thread of understanding in it.

There is also the issue of angst. This book is a fine recommendation for those who like hardships and, well, angst, in their reading, but as the story continues it can become difficult to take character decisions and assertions seriously. To put it simply, having a character continuously going against blatantly correct decisions just becomes silly. It is a reflection of stubbornness and some readers may enjoy it, but it doesn’t quite fit the rest of the book, making the characters weaker than they were. Then again, it could be said that their passion for each other has weakened their resolve.

The plot is proffered as a duel storyline with a secondary plot to boot. Flashbacks throughout keep you informed as to those first few weeks of the metaphorical honeymoon period and the literal but wretched honeymoon period, as well as everything you need to know about the ten year gap. It works well, meaning that when the present-day (1893) incarnations of the characters are in focus, their stubbornness is somewhat offset. It does mean you don’t know as much about the “now” but it is not a bad thing, per se.

The secondary plot line consists of Gigi’s mother’s attempt to find a new husband for her daughter. It may not be original, but if you enjoy reading about Austen’s Mrs Bennett, you’ll likely enjoy Victoria Rowland. It can detract from Camden and Gigi, but it is strong enough to keep you reading.

Lastly a special mention must be made regarding the writing. This is the sort of romance book that would likely appeal to typically non-romance readers. The writing is eloquent, almost historical itself, and it’s undeniably beautiful. Even language pertaining to things not considered beautiful, actions during intercourse, are written with taste.

Private Arrangements may not appeal to everyone for its story, but seen simply as a book rather than for its genre, it cannot be said that it isn’t good. Indeed it incorporates a great many elements considered crucial to a good novel and manages to break convention whilst not alienating the reader. It’s just as well the privacy of Camden and Gigi was breached else we’d be lacking a brilliant work.

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