Don’t forget your toothbrush.

Publisher: (self-published)
Pages: 370
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-780-88242-0
First Published: 1st August 2012
Date Reviewed: 20th March 2013
Rating: 3/5

Alex was pulled back in time, and all she was doing was heading to a presentation. Landing in the countryside, the 1600s version of where she was when her car stopped, she meets Matthew. Matthew is on the run from jail and agrees to help Alex, intrigued by her looks and story. Alex has family in the 21st Century, but there’s something about Matthew, and soon, despite the hardships that await her in Stuart Scotland, she might start to wonder whether the idea of returning is the opposite of what she wants.

A Rip In The Veil is a time travel novel with a twist. Here we have a woman who has fallen back in time to land in the Scottish Commonwealth, meeting a man who is on the run, and later trying to discover what happened to her mother.

Belfrage has done a good job of using her characters and plot to detail the time periods and their differences. Where others might info-dump she has Alex tell Matthew about what will happen in his own lifetime in order to help him understand what is happening. Belfrage has created a character that knows enough of history that means she doesn’t freak out when events occur – she does worry, because anyone would in the situations – but she has the knowledge and modern methods of, for example, fighting, to last the day.

The issue is that the characters aren’t developed enough. They are stereotypical and it would be difficult to describe them well if you were asked by an interested party. Alex is a career woman, has a child she didn’t want, knows some history, and has a multi-cultural background, but beyond that there is little to say. And the case with Matthew is similar.

This would actually be okay if the plot was not full of holes – because it’s obvious that Belfrage wanted a plot-driven book and there is nothing wrong with that. But there are major issues with the plot, such as Alex, someone who is otherwise very aware of how unhygienic 1600s Scotland is (she is always wishing for a toothbrush, understandably) beginning a sexual relationship with Matthew without any mention of STDs or contraception. One can assume that Matthew may have only been with one other woman before, but the way Belfrage presents Alex leaves no room for unprotected sex. And there is a lot of sex and lust in this book. Indeed there is also the issue of Alex saying how much she loves John, back in the 21st Century, whilst she lusts after Matthew. That can happen, but in this case it does not add up.

And for all her knowledge, Alex isn’t good at accepting the differences that come with being in Matthew’s era. She rallies against some occurrences, as would any woman from a modern western society, but some of her arguments, considering the way she is otherwise, sound at best impolite. And when you’ve a career woman not finding a problem with the relative boredom of a woman’s lot in the 1600s, it doesn’t come across well. Neither does the agreement to burn and give up the possessions that have accompanied her in time travelling. But that’s the issue; Belfrage is very good 50% of the time detailing time differences in regards to characters, and completely forgetful the other 50%. She’ll constantly highlight changes, and then has Alex tell Matthew she thinks she pregnant a few weeks before she suddenly realises she’s pregnant, for example.

The writing is okay, and Belfrage is able to use both old styles of speaking and, of course, modern day slang. However there is this odd element employed where every character tends to end questions with “no?”, as though using broken English. It works for the truly foreign characters, but is out of place and distracting otherwise.

The mystery of Alex’s mother is compelling, even if the sections on the men involved are less so. The violence is extreme and repetitive but it doesn’t stop the story moving forward. But reading the book, it can be difficult not to feel like the premise and various ideas were not taken advantage of. A lot more time could have been spent on Alex’s thoughts of home, especially as she is presented as so modern, and after the initial set up has been established, the characters in the 21st century are abandoned where they could have provided a good balance and more intrigue.

A Rip In The Veil has a great premise and a lot of unique ideas, and for all the issues it is difficult not to want to keep reading. But it must be noted by the prospective reader that threads are left hanging and the unrealistic can take precedent (besides the concept of time travel). It is the start of a series, so there is the possibility that Belfrage may fill in these holes later on.

I received this book for review from the author.

Related Books

If laughter is the best medicine, music is very close behind.

Publisher: Alma Books
Pages: 290
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-84688-238-8
First Published: 2012
Date Reviewed: 21st January 2013
Rating: 3.5/5

Kalu doesn’t remember his early childhood. Living on the streets he takes any job he can get and has made several friends of the people who live in the town he found himself in. But Kalu has a gift for music and when he meets a healer who helps him with the wounds on his foot he’s not quite prepared for the offer the healer makes. A famous now-reclusive musician for a brother, the healer knows that he can help Kalu achieve his potential and give him a home. But it’s up to Kalu to decide if it’s for him, and wrapped up in his indecision are all the friends in the town who he would have to leave behind.

Dancing To The Flute is an intriguing novel that focuses on music and the way it changes people, both as a passion/career and a way of helping others in whatever ails them. Looking at Kalu but also involving the stories and lives of others, Amin seeks to provide an introduction to India, its music and culture, and proposes an artistic way of dealing with problems.

Amin writes in an interesting manner that begs inspection. The style is simple, reflecting Kalu’s age and nature, however the writing is not childish in any way. There is magic in it, a flow that makes it easy to read, the very sort that is appealing as a bedtime story – even if the content is not for children. Indeed, in regards to Kalu, there are times when the writing style more aptly describes Kalu and his friends than do the words themselves.

Most of this can be attributed to Amin’s decisions and artistry, but furthering that the writing has a certain atmosphere that ties neatly into the Indian culture presented. The slow pace, the peaceful nature of the writing – music aside – and the way the words drift along match the idea of “Indian time”¹ where the pace of life is slower and things may take longer but everything is done well all the same.

There are gaps in time – the book is more a series of scenes than a flowing narrative – and whilst it is not a bad element, it does suggest that the author wanted to speed things up, to get through Kalu’s days quicker and to the end of the book sooner. This makes sense given that Kalu’s days as a student are somewhat monotonous, but it means that it may be hard for the reader to keep up with the changes that come with growing up, and it is hard to keep a hold on what is happening with the other characters, too.

This links in to a problematic aspect of the book, and that is the way the character of Kalu is presented and written. Amin seems to not be sure exactly of who her character is. When Kalu talks it is easy to gain an insight into him, as a child especially, however when Amin goes back to narration what she says confuses the picture and changes Kalu’s personality and feelings. It is difficult to truly immerse yourself when the main character is not developed in this key way, and sometimes there is even cause to wonder whether Kalu is truly passionate about music.

Whilst this issue does happen on occasion to other characters, for the most part they are well drawn and consistent. Malti in particular is a brilliant character, and the way Amin portrays the confident happy girl followed by the quiet sad woman is rather wonderful. Indeed at first it may appear as if Amin has simply changed Malti’s personality to fit the tale, but this is far from the truth. Where the older Malti is concerned, Amin at first denies the reader important information. The author provides clues but doesn’t spell it out until later on, giving the reader a chance to look at things from an outsider perspective before being informed as to the truth. It’s a very interesting method of storytelling and demonstrates just how much care and attention such situations require. Malti’s story is perhaps the best part of the book and whilst it may seem convenient to use Kalu’s gift in solving it, it fits the theme of the book and brings an atmosphere to it that may be puzzling at first but makes sense the more you read.

The book’s strength lies in the message, of music being an aid and of helping others in the way that best suits their needs rather than one’s own. Apart from the general narrative, Amin includes tales from Hindu mythology and people not included in Kalu’s life to further illustrate the power of music and in particularly the power and importance of music in India’s cultures and religions. She uses the famous musician of her story to relay facts about Indian raags at the beginning of each part of the book, and the book itself is thus structured to mirror this musical style. This means that the book does not conform to the usual build up and climax that many books contain, but moves along a different format, so to speak. To be sure there are climaxes but they are included in a way that allows the music to take precedent.

Dancing To The Flute may have its problems, but the music and the way it affects the people in the book make up for a lot. Incorporating Indian words followed by their English counterparts, the novel is a good choice for those who want to learn about language and culture without feeling lost (assuming the reader does not speak any Hindi, of course). The story could have been more developed but the sentiment is there all the same. Dancing To The Flute will appeal to those interested in culture, music, India, and the trials of life.

¹ A concept introduced to this reviewer by an Indian, which the reviewer realises may not be used across the board.

I received this book for review from Alma Books.

Related Books

None yet.

Returning to childhood when memories seem wrong.

Publisher: Alma Books
Pages: 308
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-84688-235-7
First Published: 19th June 2012
Date Reviewed: 28th February 2013
Rating: 4.5/5

After ten years in New Zealand and twenty years away from home overall, Suki has returned to London hoping to get back to being who she was; but it’s not going to be that simple. Friends have moved on and no one wants her staying with them, but when she returns to her old apartment block she discovers her family’s neighbour, Peggy, still lives there. She might have found some stability with Peggy and the woman’s daughter, but Suki finds herself haunted by the air-raid shelter that used to be in the garden, no longer there, and what happened the night she descended the stairs.

The Girl Below is a compelling novel, equally driven by characters and plot, that is perhaps best described as realistic magical realism. Mostly consisting of thoughts but having an element that suggests the otherworldly, the book focuses on the reasons a person’s life can spiral completely away from what they had intended, and the need to recover from it when it’s not been a positive factor.

Aiming for detail, Zander tells her story by way of a duel plot line – Suki describes her former life and what is happening in the present. Unlike many stories with such a structure, Zander’s tale invites, perhaps, an equal amount of interest in both storylines, meaning that whilst you inevitably want to get on with the story and find out what happened, there isn’t that ingredient part and parcel of many books where one era is more interesting than the other. There is no divide between the two periods, perhaps because they are not so far apart compared to other books. And the number of characters that inhabit both eras mean you don’t feel like you’re reading two stories.

‘Who am I and how can I be me again?’ is the theme, with Suki’s constant nocturnal travels, in the present day, taking her back to that night she could have died in the flooded air-raid shelter. Because of her parents’ style of living and her father’s choices there has been much for Suki to understand. Whilst understandable, Suki’s character may prove difficult for some, however her actions fit the time period. She does think some thoughts which seem odd for her age, yet this is the first sign of the issues of the book. And as Suki discovers more she realises her childhood memories may not be correct.

The problem with The Girl Below is that whilst Zander wraps some of the plot points up in that dark, complex, and not-quite-obvious-but-fully-implied way that authors of magical realism do, a good half or so of all the questions you have are never answered or referred to at all. You could make guesses of course, but there is scant evidence or reasons for which to back those guesses up, and unfortunately these lost points are some of the most intriguing, the ones most likely to have kept you up at night to find out the truth.

It is for this reason that Suki’s development is stilted at the end. The author has Suki tell you, if not in so many words, that she understands now, but there is not enough showing for the reader to know why. And so abundant are Suki’s strange thoughts, for example that a statue is real, that there really needed to be explanations rather than very very vague suggestions. Suki’s sexual decisions needed more time, too, especially as they are taboo. It’s a case of feeling that the author wants you to be able to relate to Suki without giving you the information you need to know. The reader has to get used to an anxious, childishly scared, and unmotivated person, without a full discloser. It would have also been good to have further insight into Peggy’s grandson, Caleb, who presented an interesting addition to the tale but, whether to illustrate Suki’s anxiety or otherwise, has the focus on his behaviour somewhat diminished in the end.

And this is a pity because overall the book is fantastic and with more attention paid to reasoning it would have been a triumph. The pace is steady, the plot and atmosphere spooky, and there are plenty of times where, for the magical realism, you wonder if you’re reading a suspenseful scene (this wondering itself causes the suspense). One can work out a lot about Suki in the realm of possibility, but it’s not enough.

Writing-wise the book is on the whole very good. The author switches between contemporary British language and some rather old fashioned slang. Zander’s skills as a journalist shine through and it’s obvious she’s brought her own story of the immigrant to the table.

So the difficulty comes, then, in explaining why in general this is a superb book and why you should want to read it. Perhaps the best way to recommend it is to say that in choosing this book you are choosing to be scared, choosing atmosphere over story. Certainly you have to be willing to use the untied threads as a springboard for your own imagination. This book will, without a doubt, divide opinion. It will cause many people to wonder at the fact of a seemingly incomplete manuscript being published, whilst yet providing a satisfactory way to spend reading time. Maybe you will come to a conclusion that trumps all others, the issue is there is absolutely no way of knowing if you are anywhere near correct.

Still, I got the thing open, and propped up the sash with a hardback Dickens omnibus from Harold’s schoolboy collection. With much trepidation, I leaned a little way out. the night air was still but also sultry, humid. With one eye on Dickens – his long-windedness holding fast – I leaned out a bit further and dared to look down.

The Girl Below is unfinished, but brilliant.

I received this book for review from Alma Books.

Related Books

None yet.

Meet the last male Kowalski.

Publisher: Carina Press (Harlequin)
Pages: 180
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-14268-9462-6
First Published: 21st January 2013
Date Reviewed: 25th January 2013
Rating: 3.5/5

Josh Kowalski is fed up of running his family’s guest house, feeling that life is passing him by whilst his siblings are free to do whatever they want. There are plans to put the house on the market but before that can happen the housekeeper has a relapse and her pneumonia returns. Her daughter Katie, Josh’s long-time best friend, moves in to help out. Katie has been in love with Josh for as long as she can remember, and knows Josh sees her only as a friend. But will living together change that, and what happens if Josh’s wanderlust never goes away?

All He Ever Dreamed is the sixth book in Stacey’s Kowalski series, and the third to focus on the families who live in Maine. Like the rest of the books there is a strong element of familial bonds however in this case much of it comes not from the Kowalskis themselves but rather from Katie’s mother, Rose, who is almost part of the family herself. This does mean, therefore, that the usual family element is somewhat lacking – it’s a case of being a fine story in a fine context if viewed by itself, but if viewed as part of a series it inevitably pales in comparison to, say, Yours To Keep, which featured the New Hampshire branch of the Kowalskis and included all the children. Stacey does make up for this somewhat by populating Josh and Katie’s story with friends, however because they are secondary characters they are not as developed and it may be difficult for the reader to bond with them.

The relationship between Josh and Katie is strong enough, even if it does simply repeat Sean and Emma’s to an extent (both books include cohabitation – the first for pretense, this one for the upkeep of a lodge). Stacey has done a good job creating characters who are a good fit, as well as making Katie an extended family member. It does seem odd, at times, that Rose and Katie are so integrated, because the New Hampshire stories are so confined to blood ties, but it’s not completely out of place; it allows Josh to have his own romance without the difficulty of having to change the entire atmosphere of these books by making him go on a journey to look for a girlfriend. At the same time, however, the convenience of it all does make it obvious that this will be the last Kowalski book unless Stacey bucks the trend and writes books about the sisters in the family.

The story may be predictable, and that predictability quite acceptable given that a big part of the success of these books lies in the reader being able to settle down with something they know well, but the story does seem too easy. Josh’s wanderlust is confined to a short space of time and he doesn’t go particularly far; in the end you can’t help but feel it was just a waste of time – indeed he went on about leaving so much that the short time he’s away seems a bit of a joke. Of course it allows for him to be with Katie, which is what the book is all about, but “easy” is the word. His mental conflict, what was supposed to be so important and the catalyst in his development as a person is relegated to a short trip and constant contact phone calls with his family. From the moment they get together, Katie rightfully worries that if Josh stays he will later blame her for making him feel pressured, but in the end Josh doesn’t really have a choice of where to be, even if he says he does. Unfortunately the author can tell you anything, and the character can tell you anything, but in reality Josh would not be completely happy with the choice he makes.

The chemistry between Josh and Katie is good. Perhaps because Stacey spends an ample amount of time documenting their history as friends and the lead up to their relationship – as well as the issues that arise from wanting to keep the friendship – the characters feel all the more right for each other and there is no need for over the top demonstrations of feelings. Stacey sets the background so well that she is able to write the story as though you’ve been reading about the characters for years – romance and dating is unnecessary, for example – and whilst this might make the narrative less exciting it can’t be said that it doesn’t work and doesn’t portray reality¹. The reader may also find some interest in the age difference – Katie is three years older than Josh.

Rose, like Kat in Yours To Keep (more similarities arise the more you think about it) has her own romantic storyline to keep her busy. It works better than Kat’s did (even if Kat’s wasn’t bad, per se) though it does pull the focus away from the main couple and, due to Stacey’s way of writing it does have an element of “so what” – in other words Stacey doesn’t give you enough reason to care. However it’s not a negative point because of the emphasis placed on Rose’s role at the lodge and in Josh’s life.

Yet for all the convenience and “lack of Kowalski” in Josh and Katie’s story, the book is a success. It is indeed due to the fact that it is one of a series that this book feels unsuccessful – when viewed as an individual “product” it is as strong as the next strongest novel. Josh’s monotonous life may seem boring but how many people get to be constantly on the move? As such, his life is a reflection of millions of others. If the other Kowalski men are fantasies, then Josh is perhaps the real guy next door, the man who would truly exist in reality. In fact it is the very times he mirrors other romantic heroes successfully that, due to his character, actually seem unrealistic, for example his sudden noticing of Katie being a woman when surely there was ample opportunity prior to their cohabitation. Indeed it could be said that it is the melding of the “traditional” Kowalski alpha male with this realistic unsettled-being-settled man that is the cause for a lot of the book’s issues. A very interesting point to consider.

All He Ever Dreamed may not be the best book in the series, but it is far from a bad book. Timings may be out but the relationship is as strong as any and the difference in story allows Stacey to explore new lives within the same context. And whilst it may be obvious that this may be the last book, it can’t be said that this show of winding down isn’t appropriate.

You’ve read about every other son and his amazing life; now read about what happens to the one who holds the fort to allow it all to happen.

¹ Primary source for this statement: my own relationship which was the same best-friends-to-lovers-and-everyone-knew-it-would-happen, if just on a much shorter time scale to Stacey’s characters.

I received this book for review from Carina Press.

Related Books

Love and war. They change everything.

Publisher: Mira (Harlequin)
Pages: 376
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-848-45203-9
First Published: 29th January 2013
Date Reviewed: 13th February 2013
Rating: 3/5

Margot, a German Jew, has spent the war (WW1) living abroad with her father whilst he works at universities. She has a fiancé who went to war but when he returned wounded, Margot decided to stay with her father. She loves Stefan, but not enough, and feels trapped by the idea of marrying him. In Paris, where her father has moved to attend the conference for the treaty at Versailles, she meets Krysia, a woman very different to her who urges her to be her own person in this new world. But because of Krysia, Margot is found by Ignatz, and when Margot meets Georg Richwalder, from the German delegation, she is no longer able to live her life through her own choices.

The Ambassador’s Daughter is a book that looks at the confusion that came with the war and its end, the way the world changed, and the way that a person was able to remake themselves accordingly. Focused on the main character, the war provides the context and backdrop for Margot’s decisions, but it also allows Jenoff to look at the effects of war in general.

The only issue with these two topics being placed together – a historic war and the trials of a young woman – is that one was always going to be used less than the other, and while it’s not bad, per se, that Jenoff chose Margot, it does mean that there is space for further problems.

The main problem with The Ambassador’s Daughter is the main character. Whilst it is in no way necessary to have a character a reader can like, Margot’s constant worries, repetitious thoughts, and poor choices make her rather unrealistic. It is true a person might be indecisive and worry, especially in times of war, but the fact of the first person narrative makes the tale complex for the wrong reasons; if written in the third person Margot may have come across very differently.

The war being considered very little unfortunately makes Margot seem self-absorbed. She is often oblivious to what people have said, even when it is paramount, and does not see what is staring her in the face. When there is hope and a real chance, she pushes it away. The era was not good for women but her father’s support for her education, even if he wished to see her settled, would have made for a stronger sense of reason and fight, if not strength itself.

So the plot is confusing and there are many points that are not expanded. This does mirror, however, the confusion of war and thus makes it difficult to say with confidence that Margot is unreasonable. Her religion, her relative wealth, her father’s position in the world, would have in reality made for a tricky situation, especially when her mother’s death is included in that mix. It’s the fact that Margot never really saw the war that makes her self-absorption so difficult to accept.

Apart from Margot there are some very well developed and poignant characters. Georg, emotionally wounded but striving to stay strong, provides a brilliant contrast to Margot’s indecision; Stefan, for all his misplaced loyalty, is understandable and if anything this makes Margot’s choices worse. Her father is a different story. Revelations in the book may make the reader’s feelings for him change, or at least create a reason for reassessment.

The book is full of lies; lies between the characters, lies towards the reader, indeed it could almost be said that the theme of the book is lies. By themselves they may be considered too numerous. When looked at generally, these are actually clever devices, drawing everything together in their deception and showing that the war might be over but nothing will ever be the same.

There are some plot points that may be considered too convenient. Jenoff deals with the result well, and in fact in at least one place there is a great show of not using it to get to an easy situation, however it does still detract from the book.

Whilst the writing is, overall, rather good, there are a number of Americanisms that do not fit. Margot uses terms such as “gotten” and “fall” (as in autumn). Considering she has spent years in England and never speaks of America except when referring to another’s discussion, the terms are out of place. There is also the matter of research and the usage of objects not yet invented.

However for all this, The Ambassador’s Daughter is not all bad. The romance is lovely, if spoiled by Margot’s indecision, and the focus on Germans is interesting. Looking at the Treaty of Versailles from the point of view of the everyday German provides much food for thought, and learning about the aftermath for the common person is interesting in general. The characterisation of Georg is so fantastic it could keep the book going even if Jenoff had everyone suddenly break into song.

The exploration of change after war, the way people were practically forced to change, is wonderful. The varying nature of the characters and the different ways they cope or choose to move on provides plenty of food for thought. And whilst it is difficult to write off Margot’s anxiety with this statement, Jenoff never gives the reader any need to feel that they must like the narrator.

The detailing may be misplaced and interesting threads lost to oblivion, but there is much to take away from this book. It will not suit everyone; it will likely divide opinion and cause contention for its structure and lack of adherence to history, but it is far from bad. The Ambassador’s Daughter has many flaws, but the ideas it imparts are appealing.

I received this book for review from ED Public Relations.

Related Books