Curses at the convent.

Publisher: Orion Books
Pages: 470
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-409-13579-1
First Published: 1st January 2012
Date Reviewed: 25th March 2014
Rating: 4/5

Joanna, a novice at Dartford Priory, leaves secretly to be at the execution of her cousin. She expects to bear witness and return to Dartford, but when the fateful time comes, her father rushes to assist the condemned and she, Joanna, finds herself in the Tower of London. Few leave the Tower alive but Bishop Gardener has a proposition for Joanna. He’ll spare her father if she’ll seek the crown of the old king, Athelstan, a legendary item said to bring greatness – and ruin.

The Crown is a particularly well-researched and well-written Tudor suspense that may not have the shock factor of some books but continues on steadily and with a good few surprises in store.

The strongest element, the stand out element, is the writing and construction. Whilst of course not written completely correctly (because a book written in true Tudor text would be difficult to decipher) the language is good, there are no sudden uses of modern slang, and the times when modern phrasing is used are slight, few and far between, and in such small supply that it doesn’t matter.

This leads on to construction – Bilyeau has done her research. As in the later The Chalice – mentioned here because this reviewer read it beforehand – the history is accurate, the biases are taken from the historical views of the people rather than placed upon the characters by the author, and the times when Bilyeau swerves towards fiction fit together with the factual history like gloves. Joanna is a fictional character, but her family and those she meets are often not, and there are never any occasions where it is unbelievable that these events could have happened. Those looking to learn about the Henrican era will find plenty of true history here, and Bilyeau does not shy away from discussing where her imagination plays its role.

Except in the case of the cursed crown, of course. But this is supposed to be. In the creation of the Athelstan crown, Bilyeau has drawn from the questions for which we have no, or at the very least scant, answers. The crown’s curse affects those royals who did not live long or who died of mysterious causes. The make-up of the crown is not unbelievable when given all the relics in the world and in many ways it echoes such legends as the holy grail and the shroud of Turin.

Bilyeau has populated her book with a vast number of primary and secondary characters. The most developed are fictional, which makes sense; it must be said that in terms of history itself a basic grounding, perhaps even a fair grounding, in the Tudor dynasty and court politics will add to the understanding and enjoyment – the factual characters are well-known. There are a few meetings that can seem too easy but the suggestion of romance means that it is not necessarily a drawback, and of course in a book where the dissolution of the religious houses is a key point, Joanna’s future is a constant question.

Also included as themes are sexual abuse and prejudice against women. Both of these are explored as potential reasons for a woman to choose the life of a nun. A religious life was a way for women to escape the average existence of a woman of the times, to gain an education and make their own choices rather than be subject to the whims and demands of their families, and Bilyeau brings in these and a variety of other reasons to her book.

The book ends quite swiftly, being perhaps a little less striking than you may think, but in choosing the path she has, Bilyeau looks at yet another issue in Tudor England, one which is likely to strike a chord with the reader as the world has changed so much since.

The Crown focuses on not just a person but a community rarely studied in fiction. It examines what is often simplified to a brief schedule the day-to-day life of a nun and the true happiness that could be found therein. And it does this whilst being accurate to the time, unbiased, and packed full of information.

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Speaking to Nancy Bilyeau about the Joanna Stafford trilogy, The Blue, and Dreamland (spoilers included)

Charlie Place and Nancy Bilyeau discuss the lifestyle of Dissolution-era nuns, using a website’s ‘contact me’ form to great success, there being more relics than there were items, using your family’s name in your work, and the grand amusement parks and luxury hotels of New York’s past.

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

An alternative to the British occupation of India.

Publisher: Premier Digital Publishing
Pages: 312
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-624-67096-1
First Published: 27th August 2013
Date Reviewed: 17th March 2014
Rating: 3/5

In 1800s Londinium, those with power want to use the bridge that spans from their land to Bharata so that they can control the inferior continent and destroy the magic that has made its way from the east. Astoria wants to go to Bharata, too, but for a very different reason. Having been schooled in botany by her grandfather, and with no possibility of marriage ahead of her due to disability, she wants to find the legendary golden lotus, complete the herbarium, and find acclaim. But in a world where men rule, this will be difficult, and as the Bharati people begin to rebel against foreign rule, everything is subject to change.

A Thousand Perfect Things is a book with an interesting premise and thematic concept, but one that doesn’t always deliver.

The most obvious issue is the writing. The narrative, and more so the dialogue, are full of modern phrasing and Americanisms, meaning that the story reads as though not enough research was conducted. American ways of speaking such as ‘in back’ and ‘also was’, where Britons, and most definitely the Victorian middle classes, would say ‘in the back’ and ‘was also’, are jarring.

Along with the writing comes the transliterations of Hindi words. This isn’t an issue as such, but there are some well-known words, even to people otherwise unfamiliar with the language, that are written in a confusing form, such as ‘rani’ being written as ‘ranee’. Some of these words are actually more correct – that is to say that in Hindi the spelling is ‘raanii’ – but it does tend to be written as ‘rani’. Words like ‘pyaari’ become confusing when spelt ‘piari’, and again whilst the former is not completely correct, it is as correct as it could be without making words too long. There is a lot of Hindi which is then always translated, suggesting the dialogue is more a language lesson than part of the story.

There are some characters that aren’t developed enough, or are inserted into the story suddenly, that for the lack of information about them are hard to care for. These tend to be the characters who are killed off, but it is sad that they can be so easily forgotten.

Kenyon has included enough factual information about both England and India to make the story appealing as a historical, but the best part is undeniably her focus on the British occupation of India. In Kenyon’s Londinium and Bharata, Indians travel easily to London and vice versa, making, if not for equality (because after all, the English built the bridge for their own gain) then a good prelude to the later action. This is because Kenyon has, by way of historical fantasy, written the occupation in the way we might wish it had happened – namely that the English didn’t gain much control and were pushed back, the Indians retaining control of what was theirs. (Comparisons can be drawn between Kenyon’s story and the Sepoy Rebellion, however Kenyon’s action is on a larger scale.) In A Thousand Perfect Things, Kenyon shows how the cultural exchange, even if largely a one-way import of English to India, could be of interest to the receiving country, but that that should have been where it ended. The author sticks to history enough to make her point obvious – she has the English seeing the Indians as inferior, and takes a sharp look at the entitlement to discipline the English felt they had – and then changes the continuation and conclusion.

Through Tori, Kenyon shows how cultures can work more in harmony if given the chance, and whilst it’s the case that Tori’s change and views of Bharata are fanciful and sometimes a little condescending, they fit the idea of magic and the exotic fantasy that Kenyon uses. In some ways the exoticism is over the top, but it works as an extra study into how the Victorians saw India.

It should be noted that although the book begins with Tori being interested only in science, there is some romance in the book, and less time spent on science as the story continues. In regards to this romance, by itself it is an interesting element. First there is the sad fact that a woman with a relatively minor condition (at least we would view Tori’s club foot as such today as it is easily treated) has been told she’ll never marry. She is essentially a second-class person. The prejudice of Victorian society is matched by the second, happier, fact that by not having any thoughts of marriage, Tori is free from the limitations placed on married women. She may not be allowed to be a female Faraday, but she could devote herself to a scientific path nevertheless. It is these factors that make the romance one to watch – who will accept Tori; how will a romance impact her studies? The answer to these questions, and your reception of them, will depend on your reading preferences and whether you’re after a romantic thread. It must be said that Tori’s wish for a sexual awakening does appear out of the blue, but either way you feel about the romance you will likely appreciate the way that difference was not as much of a problem as Tori’s family believed.

The book has issues, but it also has an excellent theme, a very different idea in the design of the world, and a section on travelling that never becomes boring.

There may have been A Thousand Perfect Things for the people of Bharata to find, but in this story the better things help to overturn history and the book is finer for it.

I received this book for review from the publisher.

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In hopes that the last breath isn’t the last at all…

Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Pages: 307
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-451-62153-2
First Published: 8th April 2014
Date Reviewed: 14th March 2014
Rating: 3.5/5

In 1500s France, an apothecary’s apprentice is saved by Catherine de Medici and becomes one of her favourites, providing her with perfumes, potions, and poisons. He is happy in his position but his ultimate goal is to put into practise the theories of his old friend who believed life could be reborn. In present-day France, Jac looks at continuing the work of her brother Robbie, who died of a mysterious illness. History and modernity come together and Jac knows she is taking on the past. She also knows about her brother’s belief that her hallucinations are windows into days long gone, but she doesn’t know just how far it goes.

The Collector Of Dying Breaths is a dual-story book that uses history to good effect but to mixed results.

The story is predictable but it in a way that doesn’t spoil it too much – there is nothing that suggests the answers shouldn’t have been easy to guess. What may prove difficult, however, is the notion of dying breaths that the book rests on. Superstitions and theories about magic and the unknown where rife in the 1500s, but it can be hard to believe that anyone nowadays would consider the possibility that a breath captured in a bottle could recreate life. Whilst the theory is of course fine as a fantasy element, there is not enough of the genre overall to aid in the suspension of what is realistic required by the reader and so the resolution of the story may not be as compelling as it is supposed to be.

This is also true of the way the two time periods are woven together. Because Jac’s ‘ability’ is known from the start, the conclusion of this theme may not seem as interesting. However the biggest issue with the way the periods connect is one of belief, similar to that of the experiments. The past lives idea works by itself, but the way it is dealt with by the characters is overdone – and this is because the main character switches back and forth between being strong and weak, knowledgeable and naïve in odd ways, that make the answers unsatisfying.

Part of the issue has to do with the writing style. There is a lot of telling involved, in fact Jac remains undeveloped for a fair amount of time. Information about her is suddenly included as though you’ve walked in during the middle of a conversation, and facts are dropped randomly that it’s hard not to feel should’ve been stated within the first few pages. Where there is a lot of unnecessary information about historical people and perfumes (more than is needed for this story of perfumers) the book could do with more information on Jac, shown. Nationalities are also difficult to discern and the historical language, whilst generally good, does veer towards the 21st century on occasion.

The history itself is believable and well written. Catherine de Medici is portrayed in a somewhat bad light that might be worse than reality but is far from awful, and you can see where the author has filled gaps in history and used certain factors as a springboard into fiction. The author has no qualms about showing the dark side of court and how quickly an enemy or simply a person of higher standing would be quietly removed.

There are sex scenes in both eras, fairly graphic and in the case of the 1500s showing the religious hypocrisy apparent. One of the contemporary scenes provides a moment of contemplation for the character that seems to be a way for the author to explore a trend and is a little out of place overall, but otherwise, especially where the historical chapters are concerned, the scenes work.

Due to the predictability and sudden switches in thoughts early on, it is hard to get a handle on the story and difficult to say you really know the characters and care about them – the story can be confusing. That said, the history is interesting and accurate enough, and the mystical aspects appealing if not used to full effect.

The Collector Of Dying Breaths is unlikely to make your best of list, but it isn’t bad and the history is informative.

I received this book for review from for Historical Fiction Virtual Book Tours.

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Yet another point in history where people were treated badly.

Publisher: Sceptre (Hodder)
Pages: 323
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-444-70401-3
First Published: 1st July 2010
Date Reviewed: 20th January 2014
Rating: 4/5

Born differently-abled, Grace later contracts polio and becomes, as far as the 1950s were concerned, ineducable and severely mentally impaired. Taken from her parents, she is institutionalised along with hundreds of other children and adults, forced into a situation of poor hygiene, neglect, and abuse. Grace’s inner world is full but she has difficulty being understood by those who believe she is stupid; the exception to this is Daniel, a boy who lost his arms in an accident and takes a shine to her.

Grace Williams Says It Loud is a semi-biographical story. A look at the horrors of institutionalisation and the way disabled people used to (and still are to some extent) seen, the book is a good starting point to learn about the truth of disability and social discrimination.

Henderson wrote the book in honour of her sister, whose disabilities were never properly diagnosed. Henderson herself is therefore very much a part of the book – whilst it may take an interview to learn that this is so, the author never excuses herself; her presence as the oft-hateful younger sister Sarah is unapologetic, realistic, and at times very damning.

Whilst the institution in this book may not be as quite as awful as some were, Henderson never holds back from detailing the horrors that occurred. She shows the abuse that was meted out by the staff – sadistic, sexual, forced medication (the latter often increasing the patients’ mental and physical issues) – as well as the numerous slurs and taunts. The words ‘spastic’, ‘mong’, and other denigrating phrases are here in abundance. It is of course worth noting that unlike other books written in our times, where authors use ‘retard’, ‘spastic’, and ‘spaz’ without thinking of the hurt this causes (consider that these words are similar in this way to the N word) Henderson’s use is medical, historical, and relevant.

The author shows just how much severely disabled people – at least ‘severely’ in the sense that they seem so on the surface – can be misunderstood. Grace may not be able to speak, but she is as intelligent as she could be given her lack of a formal education. She is capable of a sexual relationship and love. Her friend (or ‘boyfriend’ – whilst Grace speaks of love a little and has sex, love is one area that Henderson does not elaborate on) Daniel, treats her as he would any other person and whilst Grace is limited in how much she can tell us, being the only narrator and stuck in an institution, there is the suggestion that it is society that is the reason for the disability. This common idea, that society is the cause of disability, the person themselves more able if society helped them be so, is very much suggested in this book. Grace often responds, or starts, or tries, to respond to questions asked by those around her. The way Henderson writes shows that those people answer for Grace before they’ve even given her a chance, never seeing the issue that their belief in stupidity before proven guilty causes.

Henderson’s writing is easy to read but the necessarily restricted-to-a-few-locations story may sometimes prove boring. This is of course both the point and an inescapable truth. Grace is stuck in the hospital, she is not allowed to live to the full extent of her capability, and the narrative is written solely from her viewpoint. Indeed if the narrative switched it would be like a get-out card – if Henderson allowed the reader time away from Grace they would never be able to appreciate just how awful, how dull, how wrong these places were and can still be.

However, beyond this, the writing can at times prove difficult. The author mixes a highly literary style with short bullet-point-like sentences and paragraphs, and whilst you could say that Grace could well think this way, it just doesn’t work. If it is to show that Grace does have a mental impairment of sorts then it is understandable, and admittedly Henderson never tells the reader exactly what Grace’s differences are (this is a nice reprieve from the world’s obsession of having to know what is wrong with someone instead of just getting on with it), but it may prove confusing and it can change the pace in a way that it seems shouldn’t happen. Apart from this the constant and sudden switches between the current time and flashbacks can be confusing as there is nothing to separate the two strands of thought – you learn that Grace is now thinking of her childhood, for example, halfway through, because an age or year is mentioned. Switches happen, we change our thoughts constantly and suddenly, so it is realistic, but the difference in reality is that we of course know what we are thinking about, and if someone else is talking and switches subject we can ask them to explain. Grace could find explaining difficult of course, but the problem is that as readers, bystanders, we don’t have the chance to so much as ask.

The writing is problematic in places, but otherwise Grace Williams Says It Loud is an excellent book. It is incredibly important, it tells of the people that tend to be looked over in the media, it uses words in their true medical and historical contexts, and albeit that it is written by an able-bodied woman, it gives a voice to those society likes to forget.

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Struggling for independence in a man’s world.

Publisher: Sphere (Little Brown)
Pages: 467
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-84744-545-2
First Published: 20th June 2013
Date Reviewed: 16th December 2013
Rating: 5/5

When Eleanor’s (of Aquitaine, and referred to as Alienor in the book and for the remainder of this review) father dies, the thirteen-year-old marries Louis of France to become queen so that lands can be bound together. It begins as a happy marriage but Alienor’s independence is curbed by the relationship and Louis is not the husband she hoped for. Strong-willed and now Queen of France, Alienor will not become the docile wife she is expected to be, nor will she allow Louis to rule her family’s land. But it will be a long fight to gain what she sees as her right.

The first book in a fictional trilogy about Eleanor, The Summer Queen is of almost epic proportions and spans from Alienor’s childhood to the beginning of her time as Queen of England. Blending fact with fiction (the latter to both fill in gaps and study possibilities) the book is a wonderful journey for the reader even when it is a trying journey for the queen.

There is a lot of content in this book, indeed Chadwick has packed this first section with the same quantity of information you might expect to be in a whole trilogy or at least the first two books. It is therefore safe to say that if you are thinking of reading this book you must be prepared for the long ride. Whilst Chadwick does skip over months, sometimes years, of Alienor’s life, as is her style, it is fair to suggest that this was actually necessary given both the length and nature of Alienor’s life.

Is it worth it? Most definitely. Chadwick is on top form; her characters are written brilliantly, there is a lot of attention to detail and (presuming you enjoy reading about the period) the only dull moments are aptly those moments that Eleanor herself is not enjoying. By including Alienor’s teenage years the author shows how the woman became powerful (in mind and thought), which means that there is all the more time spent on gender expectations too. And it means that Alienor is written as far from infallible meaning that she feels as realistic as she would have been.

Realistic also are the other characters. Even of the ‘negative’ influences in Alienor’s life Chadwick is fair. Louis, who causes a lot of pain, is still portrayed in a good light, which means that the reader can see exactly how monarchs could be manipulated and their good name destroyed by the ambitions of others. Chadwick never strays from this, and so even when Louis is at his worse you can still see where his actions stem from. Even if you can’t quite forgive Louis, because he could have been stronger and resisted some ‘advice’, the book may make you question just how reliable our sources really are.

As acknowledged in the afterword, Chadwick has made use of ‘what ifs’. One such question that has never been answered, the speculation over whether Alienor had an affair or, at the very least, feelings, for one of her countryman, is employed here. The resolution that Chadwick writes may seem convenient but at the same time it is understandable. When you consider the fact that this is an author who likes facts beyond all else, the brief foray into fiction that is neatly tied up so that it is almost detached from the factual content is something to be read without contention.

However it is this relationship that causes the one ‘major’ (in quotes because it is the biggest but far from being off-putting overall) issue of the text – the author’s repeated references to the subtext of Alienor and her lover’s letters and gestures. They touch, it is intimate to them but no one else would notice, they speak, there is a hidden meaning in their words that no one else would notice.

Beyond this there is little to find fault with. One can only wonder how much research must have gone into this book and there is so much information included – shown, not told – that you may finish the book feeling as though you’ve had the most interesting history lesson. The Queen does not stay in France, her progress and journeys are documented at length so that you are provided a brief introduction to various eastern European monarchs and customs.

The Summer Queen is a story of an independently-minded woman learning how to exert that independence when society is against her. It is a story of a woman who defied convention, and a story of partnerships and how equality could lead to good things even when the world did not believe in the notion.

The Summer Queen is as magnificent as any of Alienor’s sumptuous gowns and will delight those who enjoy reading about the medieval period.

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