Re-tellings can be just as just as masterful.

Publisher: Allison & Busby
Pages: 491
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-0-7490-1362-2
First Published: 20th March 2012
Date Reviewed: 14th March 2013
Rating: 5/5

Charlotte-Rose is banished to a convent after causing one too many scandals at the court of Louis XIV. It’s a terrible punishment, but she manages to befriend an old nun who tells her the story of a girl who was kept in a tower by a witch. But the witch has her own story to tell, dark and full of despair, and Charlotte-Rose, not always in the garden with Soeur Seraphina, has much time to look back on her old life, too.

Bitter Greens is an utterly fantastic retelling of Rapunzel, blended together with the factually-based story of the woman who wrote down the version we know today. Not at all suited for children, Forsyth’s book is an incredibly dark account and far more stupendous.

The novel is a constant succession of details, complexity, and magnificence. Set in France and Italy, Forsyth doesn’t simply introduce the reader to the history, the life at court and beyond, she soaks you in it. She adeptly demonstrates the hypocrisy of a Catholic court where people had many lovers, and shows that, for all its glamour, the court was a place of extreme cruelty. Indeed the book can be hard to read at times, gritty and depressing as it is, because Forsyth never holds back, she details sexual abuse, gang rape, murder, torture – in fact given the amount of it you could be forgiven for thinking it gratuitous. Unfortunately it cannot be said that it is – whilst Forsyth’s characters, other than Charlotte-Rose and some of those at court, are fictional, the horrors surely echo real life. It has been said on many occasions, especially recently, that fairy tales are in fact dark and cruel, but it’s easy to gloss over that darkness and look at all the glitter and magic. Forsyth reminds you what is behind that glare that blinds you to the truth.

The storytelling is exceptional. Even when the story is repetitious (and given the routine life at a renaissance convent and the sheer boredom of being shut in a tower for months, that is going to happen) it manages to keep its pace. Forsyth fills the pages with such detail and intriguing thought (her characters think of everything and are strong enough to recommend them to memory) that entire chapters may pass before you realise you’re still reading about the same dull life of Rapunzel (here called Margherita).

And Forsyth weaves the magic in beautifully. For a while she almost teases you – will there be true magic or will it be more of a metaphor? – and when it does arrive it is the sort of magic that fills childhood stories, yet the book never looses its darkness or the adult atmosphere. Forsyth invites you to leave reality behind and embrace all the stories that are ‘supposed’ to be denounced upon maturity. And it is every bit as thrilling as it was as a child, only now it also includes the necessary ingredients to keep you hooked as an adult.

It should be noted that there is a lot of social and religious history in the book. Charlotte-Rose lived in a time of Inquisition, when Louis XIV decided to revoke the tolerance afforded to Protestants. It is surely to Forsyth’s good fortune that Charlotte-Rose’s story aligned with this religious persecution as it allows the purely fictional elements to be ensconced in the history, sounding as true as it could ever sound. If the vast majority of men and women under suspicion as witches were innocent, then the author examines those few that could have feasibly made magic their career. And she looks at the known wise-women who were frequented for love potions and curses as well as for abortion and medicines, using fiction to wonder at the possibility of there being true magic assigned to them.

The social history includes a lot of inequality on various levels, for example class and gender. Forsyth shows how weak the position of women was and explores the strengths and intelligence of women to a point where you might just ask yourself why these clever (and sometimes understandably manipulative) women didn’t simply turn on their men. In other words, you could use this book as a study of women’s history, because it has information and both fictionalised and factual accounts in abundance. Examined too are, of course, the convents, where women were thought to be independent. Forsyth demonstrates that this was the case, but only to a degree, due to both male dominance outside the walls and the female hierarchy and bullying inside. A convent could be freeing, but also a death sentence.

It will not surprise you to hear that general sexuality issues are explored as well, with all the prejudices and biases history has provided it.

Lest you wonder where Forsyth could have possibly fitted any characters other than cardboard cut-outs into this, given all the time taken by issues and magic, let us consider the women at the heart of the three narratives (the narratives being Charlotte-Rose, Margherita, and the witch Selena Leonelli). As you may have expected, they are written superbly well. Strong in the face of adversity, cunning and clever, and just simply captivating, for all their strife there is reason to look forward to returning to each of their stories; the book switches back and forth between the tales. Margherita might give you pause, but is it not a case of her being too young and innocent? Selena is an evil witch, but is her own story not heartbreaking? And as scandalous as Charlotte-Rose could be understood to be, is she not just a force of independence and free will?

The romances and secondary characters are all interesting. Forsyth employs few curtains – there is a lot of sex in this book – and perhaps one of the elements that is most obvious to take away with you is the thought that worse than hate is indifference. This indifference being that of Louis XIV, a man so self-absorbed that the terminal illnesses of others were considered inconveniences, things not to be allowed to interfere with the King’s wishes. Talking of men, perhaps most interesting is the way Forsyth includes many instances of men being dominated themselves, by other men. A man was an independent, able to do what he liked in a way no woman could, but add hierarchy and family into the mix and suddenly a man was a prisoner of tradition and society not so unlike all women. Not as horrific, certainly, but still a pawn in the games of influence and pride. Incidentally, of men, Forsyth’s version of Rapunzel’s prince is a brilliant example of bringing mundane reality to fairy tales.

The ending could be considered convenient until you remember that the book is purposefully fantastical by its very nature. It might be less than expected but at the same time it is far from disagreeable, and by the end of all the terror, you’ll likely welcome it.

Having used up a lot of the most laudatory words in the English language, this review is going to have to have a moment of repetition: Bitter Greens is a masterpiece. A mix of history, fantasy, romance, and, let it be said, horror, it is completely worthy of your time. If you want a final recommendation, let this be it: if you don’t want to miss the book that might end up being your favourite of the year, you’ll want to read it, and soon.

I received this book for review from Allison & Busby for Historical Fiction Virtual Author Tours.

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If, to save their life, you tell someone that you’ll leave, what happens if you didn’t quite mean it?

Publisher: Definitions (Random House)
Pages: 264
Type: Fiction
Age: Young Adult
ISBN: 978-1-849-41428-9
First Published: 2011
Date Reviewed: 13th December 2012
Rating: 5/5

It’s three years since Mia walked out of Adam’s life, after she’d woken following the car crash that killed her family and left her in a coma. She never told him why she left him, and since then Adam has been a mess. It’s of no consequence that he’s now an A-lister with groupies and actress girlfriends aplenty, all he ever wanted was Mia, and when he walks past a theatre and sees that she’s playing a concert that evening, he can’t help himself.

Where She Went is the powerful sequel to Forman’s bestseller, If I Stay. This time narrated by Adam and set within an 18 hour period, it looks at what happens when people struggle to regain themselves and the harm that a lack or, rather, change, in communication can do to a relationship.

Although the “action” does take place in a short time, there are many flashbacks. However unlike in other cases, it doesn’t feel as though Forman should have set the book over a longer period – the flashbacks are natural and there is nothing superfluous. Each one demonstrates an important aspect of Adam and Mia’s relationship, or gives the reader information about a particular moment.

There are secondary characters, but apart from the flashback chapters, these people all remain minor. The spotlight is entirely on Adam, even when Mia is there. In fact, being told from Adam’s perspective, Mia even sometimes seems a secondary character herself as you only know what she tells Adam. With Adam you get every ounce of raw emotion.

“You were so busy trying to be my saviour that you left me all alone.”

And whilst what’s going on in Adam’s head is crucial except during times when Mia’s pain trumps it, it’s the dialogue that takes the book into award-winning territory. Forman has a talent for dialogue and characters that is remarkable. The dialogue is realistic, powerful, angsty, and the author knows exactly what the reader wants to hear about and hands it over. You may have to wait to know everything, but your waiting feels the same as Adam’s, you feel the same irritation he does whilst Mia babbles on about things that don’t matter, impatient to cut to the chase and learn her side of the story. And there are many times when the reader might wonder if Forman really will let you know, or whether she’ll allow Mia to walk off into the night and leave you to comfort Adam by the wayside, all the while crying yourself.

In an industry where, as of late, italics tend to be overused, Forman is an exception. She uses italics to excess, but due to her writing style it works where if anyone else would have written this book it wouldn’t have. Instead of becoming an annoyance, Adam’s constant usage of emphasis in his thoughts and conversation only serve to make his pain more obvious, and therefore to draw the reader in. The emphasised words always sound natural and they are spot on – there is never an emphasis on the wrong word. And the emotion and impact is ever more likely to hit the reader so that the lines between story and reality become blurred.

Incidentally it should be noted that Forman has written lyrics for Adam’s band, which are used throughout the story and complied at the end. The detailing and relevance of them shows just how much extra effort went into the book.

The development of the characters is of the utmost importance, and Forman continues what she started previously, making the characters so alike, in both situation and interests, but different enough that they could be strangers. In a way, they are. But they still think similarly and their thought processes mean that they’ll see things the same, then differently, and then the same, in a way that suggests that they ought to be together always – and not in that stereotypical romantic fashion. They are one, but they are also individuals.

Spirituality and hope forms part of the story, the way that Mia has come to accept the physical loss of her family, but has kept their memories alive in her heart. It aids the story a little but mostly stands for a person trying to live once alone, and moving forward whilst keeping that link to the past.

For all you do hear from Mia, there could have perhaps been more information about why she left Adam and what happened afterwards. Adam discusses his successive relationships, for example, but Mia’s past is more ambiguous. A good guess could be made, but if the guess were correct some further reasoning would have added even more to the story.

It is difficult to describe how much this book has the potential to affect the reader, how it may be one of those stories that brings you to tears. Even if it isn’t as powerful for some, the style is such that most if not all should at the very least be able to appreciate it. Forman’s talent for storytelling and creating characters transcends the need for perfect prose – though her prose is far from average.

Where She Went is a fantastic sequel and although it would be difficult to enjoy without having read If I Stay beforehand, the power that exists on those pages would have a certain impact no matter whether you are already familiar with Adam and Mia or not.

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An attempt to end the Reformation.

Publisher: Orion Books
Pages: 427
Type: Fiction
Age: Adult
ISBN: 978-1-409-13309-4
First Published: 28th February 2013
Date Reviewed: 26th February 2013
Rating: 4/5

Joanna Stafford, ex-novice at the dissolved Dartford priory, is trying to get used to the secular life. But when her cousin visits the town and it becomes apparent that his wife wishes to continue the proceedings of the prophecy Joanna heard from Elizabeth Barton¹, the novice has a choice to make. Does she refuse, and live in danger of those who wish Protestantism gone, or does she agree to work towards the deposition of the formidable Henry VIII?

The Chalice is a cleverly written novel that looks at the effects of the dissolution on those it impacted the most, and provides a semi-plausible and well-implemented reasoning for much of the happenings during the time between Jane Seymour and Anne of Cleves.

Considering the success of the book historically, it makes sense to discuss what does not work first. Whilst the secondary and “background” characters are factual, the main characters have been created by Bilyeau to varying effect. Some are mostly there to provide knowledge and opinions of the period – for example, although Brother Edmund is of importance to Joanna, his value to the reader is surely as a source of social information. Bilyeau’s creations may not always fit into the history entirely but their stories are woven into the factual events enough; it is less a case of pausing for thought, more a case of pausing for wonderment.

However Joanna herself is a complex and difficult character. She changes her mind constantly and although one can understand her hesitation and continuous worry there is something not quite right about it. One day she will adamantly be against something, the next very much for it, and she continually backs out when she’s already come too far.

Indeed whilst Joanna is a much-needed representation of the stricken Sister, she is perhaps too much an example of the stereotypical weak woman. Seeing that Joanna is supposedly well-read and strong in other ways it does cause confusion. An otherwise wise woman who suddenly decides to reveal her background whilst undercover is incomprehensible. She doesn’t think about how her actions will ruin careful planning and makes for an incredibly bad agent. Strange also is Joanna’s dislike of admirers when she constantly leads them on.

But however odd these factors are, they do not mean that Joanna is a bad character overall. As suggested she is a good source for learning about the affects of the Reformation and has been placed into the factual history with care.

All this usage of history is what sets Bilyeau’s book on a pedestal. The author never lets her own ideas come in the way of truth, and instead of pulling the reader away from it she finds the gaps where she can insert her characters so that they don’t disrupt. Bilyeau will take a snippet, for example the exact way an ambassador discovered information (which historians do not know), and pitch her characters as the sources. It is for this reason that even the most vigilant of readers, those on the lookout for liberties taken, should be able to relax. Bilyeau may not be the only author to value accuracy, but her method is rather unique and completely satisfying. She even supplies a reason for Henry VIII’s impotence in his later life – unnecessary really, but still absolutely gripping.

Whilst the premise rests on mystery and spying, the book does not move with any speed; it drifts along comfortably, taking its time. In the hands of another author this might have been a negative aspect, but Bilyeau’s focus on social history and detailing the setting mean that whilst you want to know about the intrigue, you are happy just to wait. And you can rest safe in the knowledge that Bilyeau will reveal all.

The Chalice is the book for those who love Tudor nobles but are bored with life at court (your average Tudor noble would have welcomed this book). It may be repetitive at times (everyone always says “no, no, no!”) but on the whole it is a very, very good book. Whilst officially a sequel it can be read by itself as the references to The Crown are detailed enough, and perhaps most importantly it gives a much needed voice to the victims of the changed society.

A superior novel of the dissolution and attempted restoration, The Chalice will delight readers of historical, spy, and perhaps even Christian fiction.

¹ The nun, or “Holy Maid” of Kent. Barton prophesied the death of Henry VIII if he married Anne Boleyn, and was killed for it.

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

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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.

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.

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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.

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