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I enjoy a good story, never more than at this time of year, when Hallowe’en has come and gone and the nights are drawing in and Christmas is on its way. I particularly enjoy a good Susan Hill ghost story – The Woman in Black has rightly become a classic, and earlier this year I had a thoroughly good time with The Small Hand as I explained here. So when her new story, Dolly, was released it was no-brainer that I would buy it and devour it in one sitting, as I did.
It’s a short tale, narrated to us by Edward Caley about his lonely orphaned childhood and especially one summer, the first that he spent with his Aunt Kestrel in her forbidding house in the Fens. They are joined by his extraordinarily spoiled cousin Leonora, a wilful child with serious anger management issues, effectively abandoned by her mother and uncontrollable. During her stay she becomes fixated on being given a doll for her birthday, and when she doesn’t get exactly what she wants she becomes enraged and lashes out, an action which has appalling repercussions for them both down the years.
This is nicely creepy in many ways and I enjoyed the experience of reading it at the time, but didn’t get quite the sense of foreboding or the air of melancholy that you get from a really good ghost story. I couldn’t quite get it to make sense for me in terms of actions and consequences. So a bit unsatisfying compared to her other work in the genre but still better than most of the ghost stories out there.
A tiny wee review for a short but compelling ebook. Ink in the Blood is Hilary Mantel’s diary of her hospital experiences when seriously ill a few years ago. It’s an unflinching portrayal of what must have been a horrible experience, but Mantel brings her unique perspective to her situation, the hallucinations and other effects of medication, as well as the books she is reading.
Favourite line = “Which makes me ask, what kind of wuss was Woolf?”
Having seen a brilliant interview with her earlier this year (I think) I have a serious girl crush on Hilary Mantel – if only I could just finish Wolf Hall…….
I wasn’t sure what to expect with Every Last One. I could tell from the Amazon reviews that knowing anything except for the basic plot could really spoil the impact of the story, but I think its safe to say that it is a book of two halves – with a tragic event in the middle, which came as a total shock to me (as it seems to have done to other readers).
This is the story of the Latham family, told from the perspective of Mary Beth Latham,mother, wife, businesswoman, friend, all of those things and so much more. I really liked her – can you tell? It’s a picture of a happy family life, not perfect by any means (which is great because I don’t believe any family is perfect, we all have our oddities and tensions and skeletons) but generally pretty good, a couple who care for each other and their three children, all teenagers. We get a very clear picture of their family dynamic and as the eldest of three and the only girl I especially enjoyed the interaction between the Latham daughter and her younger brothers. And then something awful happens and the tone and focus of the book changes.
Some reviewers found this jarring and are divided between whether the first or second parts of the book are better or whatever, but I have to say I thought the whole thing was quite remarkable and I cried solidly during huge chunks of this relatively short book and especially at the end. I often cry at books and films but when I talk about crying here I mean real, genuine sobbing and I felt bereft when I finished it. I have thought about it a great deal since I read it, one of those that pops into your head when you least expect it.
Some will be cynical about the whole thing, others will wonder what all the fuss was about, but I thought this was great and it was one of the top reads of my holiday, and also one of the few e-books I’ve read so far (admittedly there aren’t that many I’ve finished) that I have seriously considered getting in hard copy.
The blurb on the back of the book gave a pretty skewed impression of where this was going to put all of that out of your mind. But if you give this one a try just make sure there are tissues near at hand. I wasn’t prepared and the puffy pink eyes and running nose look is not a good one believe me!
I know I say this a lot, but I really mean it this time: I feel as if I am the last person in the Universe (or the blogosphere at least) to get around to reading Cloud Atlas. I have seen it so many times stacked on tables in bookshops with its lovely coloured cover and I’ve wondered what it was all about but never thought to pick it up, even on a 3 for 2 deal when I’ve been scouring the bookshop looking for something to add. I’m still not entirely sure why I bought it for my Kindle app; I suspect it’s been to do with reading about the film adaptation and thinking that looked interesting and my tendency to want to read a book before I see the movie version.
I should also give a shout out to Silvery Dude who, when I mentioned it to him as a possible read, thought that I would enjoy the experience.
I have to say I’m really intrigued about the film, because I cannot for the life of me see how they are going to do it (or have done it as I think it may already be out in the US?). I can’t even adequately explain the novel to myself having read it, let alone visualise how the structure will translate to the big screen.
For the structure of the book is really important; there are six or seven stories all nested within each other, radiating forward into the future and then back into the past. It’s really disconcerting if you don’t know that, because when I got to the break in the first story I thought there was something wrong with the download (I know, what an eejit) but I persevered and realised what was happening. I’m not even going to try to explain the various stories told but they range over time and there are connections between them all, especially in relation to a comet shaped birthmark (as I remember – the curse of (a) waiting this long to write the post and (b) having it as an e-book is it isn’t always easy to refer back (haven’t yet got the hang of bookmarks and highlighting yet))
And apologies for the excessive use of parentheses here but it sort of fits the book somehow.
I thought it was a compelling read with some interesting things to say about identity and human relationships and all that sort of thing and I would recommend it to anyone else out there who has perhaps not read it yet.
Still haven’t got a clue how they’re going to do it justice on the screen but I’ll look forward to finding out.
The Adoration of Jenna Fox is a bit of a milestone for me, as it’s the first book I read from start to finish using the Kindle app on my iPad. When the Book God and I went on holiday to Italy in September with my brother the Stanley Scot and his Good Lady we had to limit luggage and so we decided to leave physical books behind and rely on electronic means, and I have to say it was a huge success.
I read all of this in the hotel we stayed at in Spoleto.
This is a YA novel and tells the story of Jenna Fox, who has somehow survived a terrible accident and is rebuilding her life in a new community, and about her struggle to remember what happened and to deal with the oddities that surround her, because there is clearly something going on around her that she doesn’t understand, and she is somehow special.
I really enjoyed this one, the mix of teenage angst and science fiction worked well for me, and I found myself really liking Jenna (though wanting to give her a real shake on occasion). As with lot of YA fiction the writing is clear and direct and just the sort of thing for a holiday read – I finished it in a couple of sittings.
I believe that there is already a sequel and may get that on Kindle at a later stage, as I’d be interested to see where the author takes this given that (in my opinion anyway) the ending didn’t really leave much of an opening.
Rather unfairly, I feel as if I had been reading this book for decades, and that’s a shame because (a) it was really very enjoyable in many ways and (b) I have the other two books in the trilogy still to read so am taking a break and trying very hard not to not read them.
If that makes sense.
Because both the Book God and Silvery Dude enjoyed the story (SD has I believe now read them all) and I am not one to give in when the recommendations of bookish cohorts are causing me trouble (not that it’s a competition, no of course it isn’t, don’t be silly).
But it took me AGES to get through this. It’s not that I wasn’t having a good time with the lush prose and the melodrama and the plot twists and the villains, alliances made and lost and made again, all with some naughtiness to boot.
It was just a reluctance to pick the thing up; it was HEAVY in hardback, though undoubtedly a pretty book – what you can’t tell from the picture is that this is a white hardback with transparent blue plastic overlay (which I was always anxious not to damage, so that didn’t help) and an embossed black mask – masks are very important to this story. And it was tiring to read – something about the prose style which was so over the top (though it suited the story) that it was at times exhausting. But I struggled on through all these hardships because I liked the three main characters and I wanted to know what was going to happen.
So you have Celeste Temple, a young woman in a strange city who has just been dumped by her fiancé; Cardinal Chang who is a hired killer whose intended victim has already met foul play; and Dr Svenson, a medical man looking after a rather unpleasant prince engaged to be married to some poor girl. The stories of all three become intertwined with a far-ranging and diabolical conspiracy involving a mysterious painting and, of course, the glass books themselves. Which are blue.
The men are either dashing or villainous and on occasion villainously dashing; the women are chaste but brave, or vampish in a dastardly way, but all have heaving bosoms and a tendency to use their womanly wiles to manipulate the other characters for good or ill. The plot itself cracks along but I’m not entirely sure I understood what the point of it actually was. But there are steam trains and mines and converted castles and airships and a body count of significant proportions and it would probably make a brilliant TV series, and I will read the others at some point.
Honestly.
So there’s a bit of a story to this one. I am a huge fan of Mr Aaronovitch after being introduced to his books by Silvery Dude; in fact the very first one, Rivers of London, helped get me through a particularly nasty cold back in the day. So when I realised that the man himself would be talking and signing books at the Waterstones in Piccadilly, well, I just had to go along, didn’t I? And because I’m a good friend * cough * I got a ticket for the Silvery One as well.
The evening dawned and after numerous “it’ll be fine” exchanges poor old SD couldn’t attend because of domestic (poorly small boy) circumstances so I had to go along by myself, a bit reluctantly I must admit because these things are often more enjoyable when you have someone to chatter with, but it turned out to be huge fun. Mr A is extremely entertaining and a pleasant hour passed as he talked about what bits of the London that appear in his books aren’t real (although it hasn’t stopped me looking for a particular building every time I go through Russell Square), the usual ‘where he gets his ideas from’ stuff and most importantly a hint about how many more volumes there will be in the series (very much a ‘keep going until I run out of stories’ vibe). And as you can see I got my book signed (and got one for SD as well to make up for his missing a night out – and his little boy is OK so smiles all round)
Whispers Underground itself is well up to standard; starts off with a bit of ghost-hunting on the London underground, followed swiftly by the murder of the son of a US Senator which has something whiffy about it and attracts the attention of the FBI and off we go on a really enjoyable story which as always takes in lots of interesting stuff about London and has a nice arc building up in the background.
It’s always tempting to compare this series with the Bryant and May books by Christopher Fowler (which I also adore) but despite the superficial similarities (police investigating odd things, London as a character in the books, lots of interesting facts) they are very different, the supernatural element being the most obvious, but most people I know who enjoy one author also enjoy the other.
So a series that is going from strength to strength and I can’t wait for the next one.
So once again I’m facing up to the fact that I am appallingly behind with my blog posts and I have set myself the task of catching up with the backlog so that I can start next year (gulp) with a clean sheet. A big ask as I have nine book and six film reviews (at the other place) to write and some of them go way way back to the time of the year when I was actually reading.
Such is the case with The Last Werewolf which I first heard of before Christmas last year when I was having drinks with Silvery Dude and friends in a pub in London. And I did that thing that I always do which is avoid reading what everyone else is reading which is why once again I feel like the last person in the known universe to have read this.
Which I did. In June. And am only writing about it now.
But it’s a keeper, this one, and I’ve already bought the sequel which tells you something I hope. Quick synopsis just in case there is some other soul out there who wants to read this but hasn’t (I’m always reminded about the old advert for Lord of the Rings – the world is divided into those who have read LoTR and those who are going to – missing out those who wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot barge pole no matter how you try to convince them its brilliant) so this short review is not for everyone except those who don’t read books about werewolves and vampires and conspiracies with lots of blood and sex. if that person is you then you should step away from whatever electronic device you are using.
For everyone else this is definitely the anti-Twilight; grown-up, sexy, gory, morally ambiguous and gripping. Jacob is the last werewolf, tired of life and resigned to dying himself sometime soon as the folk who hunt his like down are closing in. And then something happens which makes him realise that he has a lot to live for and he decides to fight back.
Or something like that.
The story is of course important but its the characters that really drew me in to this book, and especially Jacob and the uncompromising nature of his first kill which taints the rest of his life and was really a ‘wow did he actually do that?’ moment for me. I wanted to know how it was all going to play out and it was incredibly satisfying to accompany him on his journey right up to the impressive ending.
So if you enjoy a really good horror novel then this is for you.
So this is one of the books that Silvery Dude was trying to persuade me to read because he had read and enjoyed it, and it certainly sounded interesting and became a must read (a) when the Book God mentioned he had a book of short stories by the same author which he regarded highly and (b) it became necessary to quieten Silvery Dude down.
And it really did turn out to be a smashing little story, and I don’t use those adjectives as a means of putting this book down, because it is just lovely with charming characters and a simple but effective plot structure, and the story moves forward at a solid pace and it was a really positive experience to read.
And I really should learn to breathe grammatically. But never mind, I’m sure you catch my drift.
The Kings of Eternity takes place across two time periods – 1935 when Jonathan Langham and Edward Vaughan go to the country to help their friend deal with what turns out to be an incursion from another world (really not giving anything away here, its in the blurb and the front cover artwork kind of gives it away), and 1999 when we find Daniel Langham, a famous author living a life of seclusion on a Greek island , where the secrets of the past threaten to catch him up.
So on the one hand we have a marvelous HG Wells type story and on other we have what turns out to be rather a sweet love story, and of course the two will merge and we will understand what’s been going on all along.
Actually, anyone who has read a lot of sci-fi will work out quite early on what’s going on and I certainly found it quite easy to work out how this was all going to end. But that doesn’t matter. Because the HG Wells bits are fabulous, the love story is really sweet and all the characters that you are supposed to be rooting for are really nice.
I don’t think it is a “novel of vast scope and depth” as it says in the blurb on my edition, but it is “imbued with humanity and characters you’ll come to love”
I certainly did so, and can recommend it.
Bury Her Deep is the third of Catriona McPherson’s detective novels set in 1920s Scotland and featuring her amateur sleuth Dandy Gilver.
I actually started this during the last few hours of the Readathon in April but didn’t finish it for quite a while afterwards, which is strange as I normally gallop through this sort of book and had enjoyed the previous two volumes. I’m not going to say that I didn’t enjoy this one at all, but something jarred with me.
I don’t think its Dandy herself although I was becoming a bit weary of her pulling the wool over her husband’s eyes about her sideline in detecting with her chum Alec, and was glad (not a major spoiler here) that this has now been resolved sensibly.
I don’t even think it was the mystery itself, which was quite interesting – who is attacking the ladies of Fife village on their way home from the Rural Women’s Institute meetings.
I think it was the supporting cast of characters – the women in the village, the vicars daughter and particularly the incomer toffs that I found grated with me, and I will confess that I skimmed my way through the climax of the story, wanting to see the solution but not wanting to linger in the company of some of the protagonists. I know it was set in 1920s Fife but I really wanted to shake most of the women, including Dandy herself on a couple of occasions.
So mildly disappointing but not a total disaster which is just as well as I have two more in the series to read.
Bride of the Book God 