Book Review: The Gemma Doyle trilogy

Title: A Great and Terrible Beauty, Rebel Angels and The Sweet Far Thing

Author: Libba Bray
Year Published: 2003-2007

Genre: Young adult, supernatural, gothic, historical fiction

The Gemma Doyle trilogy is a supernatural Victorian boarding school story for young adults. That alone should tell you whether you want to read this series (for me the answer was, of course: hells yeah). There’s an indulgent, ‘comfort read’ quality about it despite its dark themes. While this normally would be fine for me, some of these themes weren’t your typical dramatic fantasy problems but rather actual real life issues. And that’s why I ultimately found the series problematic.

There are a number of seeming contradictions in the nature of the series itself, as if it is trying to be too many things at once. On the one hand, it's easy to luxuriate in the girly girl passages about the girls’ shopping expeditions and the social niceties of Victorian London – reminiscent of your Jane Austen type of stories, which the author references a number of times. On the other hand, there are plenty of gruesome ghostly things mentioned in the supernatural part. Then again, there are your ‘serious’ scenes describing family dysfunction, abject poverty and child sexual abuse – the latter of which I really wasn’t expecting in such a squishy sort of read.

There was so much going on that I felt that a number of these heavier themes shouldn’t have been included at all. Other than creating mood whiplash, I felt they weren’t given their proper dues. I kept thinking of the phrase ‘out of sight, out of mind’, as each ‘problem’ rarely transcends the scene in which it’s mentioned. For example, Gemma spouts a lot of pretty and ~profound~ insights about her dysfunctional family, but only ever seems to think about them when she’s in their actual physical presence.

While Gemma describes problems – particularly the ‘ordinary’ real-world ones – and how horrific they are, we can’t disagree; at the same time though, they’re given so little attention that there’s almost a passive tolerance of them. In this regard, it was Gemma’s musings on child sexual abuse that really made me irrationally angry – she talks as if she knows all about it, but then she doesn’t seem too bothered about it in the next scene, nor does she ever do anything about it – to be fair, I don’t know what she could do in those cases, but nevertheless I felt it made her concerns seem ungenuine.

Despite it being 1895, the behaviours and voices of the heroines are very, very modern. When the girls have ‘radical’ thoughts, it doesn’t feel very radical at all as they haven’t actually moved very far from who they already are. As for Gemma, well, her decision at the very end came as a surprise to me – her thoughts were so varied and unfocused throughout the series that it was surprising she even had that goal in mind: she never once mentioned it during the entire series.

Now, despite all my groaning, there’s still a lot you can enjoy in this series. I don’t doubt that a lot of people would be attracted to the gothic setting of the series, and there’s an indulgent pillowy quality you can get lost in – indeed, despite my misgivings I read all three books pretty quickly. This is the sort of series you let wash over you, without trying to keep track or think too much about, lest you spot the problems. There isn’t a lot of plot to be honest – it gets worse in the second and third books, where there’s more and more telling instead of showing, and the tale expands in breadth rather than depth. It seemed to unravel as things went on, and became a bit of a chore to read in the end. Be warned also that the ending isn’t exactly a happy one.

I did like that the main love interest was Indian, but I’m in two minds as to whether this series provides a positive example of non-white characters. There was surprisingly more sensuality than I would’ve anticipated, particularly given how simple the language is, so I’d probably say it’s suitable for those aged 13+. I was a little disappointed in the character development too – some of Gemma and Kartik’s relationship is retconned in the third book, and I was surprised to hear Felicity, Pippa and Ann described as Gemma’s “best friends” in Rebel Angels after their uneasy and bullying-tinged interactions in A Great and Terrible Beauty, as well as the fact that none of them seemed to actually like each other, except for Felicity and Pippa. I’m not sure what it says about me, or the book, but I found Felicity and Ann to be a lot more likeable and interesting than our heroine Gemma.

So in conclusion, I had a number of issues with this series – namely plot, character development and the handling of themes. It’s also very faux Victorian, if that’s something that will bother you. What’s left to recommend it then? Well, there’s an addictive quality in the writing, and an attractiveness in the mood and setting. There are also moments of great tenderness and poignancy, though these instances were too few and far in between. I don’t regret reading this series, but I doubt I’ll read it again.

Alex’s Rating: 2.5/5

Book Review: The Liveship Traders

Title: Ship of Magic, The Mad Ship and Ship of Destiny

Author: Robin Hobb
Year Published: 1998-2000

Genre: Fantasy

The Liveship Traders is the second trilogy set within the world of Robin Hobb’s ‘Realms of the Elderlings’, for which there are currently fifteen books. While you don’t need to know anything about the first trilogy – The Farseer Trilogy (a.k.a. the Assassin books) – in order to understand this one, The Liveship Traders contains major spoilers for its predecessor so you may want to read The Farseer Trilogy first. In fact, if you’re a fantasy fan and you haven’t read the Assassin books, don’t bother with this review and just go read them now. The first book is Assassin’s Apprentice. Go on. You can thank me later.

Anyway, back to The Liveship Traders. Though it’s comprised of three books (Ship of Magic, The Mad Ship and Ship of Destiny), The Liveship Traders is better characterised as one somewhat very large novel. To put it another way, what you have here are three books, each being some 900 pages long, none of which work as standalones – so be ye warned.

The name of the trilogy essentially describes its premise. In the Cursed Shores, there is substance known as wizardwood – a sentient wood that can only be sourced from the Rain Wilds. A ship built from wizardwood will “quicken” and come to life only after three family members from successive generations have died upon its deck. At the start of the trilogy, the liveship Vivacia is about to quicken – an event to set in motion everything else in the series. The plot is almost impossible to describe without spoilers, so pro-tip: don’t read the blurbs. The Liveship Traders involves multiple plots and characters and is a slow burn sort of deal in the bestest sort of way. If you like seafaring adventure stories, fantasy, and being patient, this is the series for you.

Hobb has built a fully realised fantasy world both traditional and unique; its features are rich but not obnoxiously so; everything in the world, from its seal hunters, its religions, its cultures and its magic, simply belongs. Hobb brings a spark to traditional fantasy elements like mythical serpents, to innovations like wizardwood and even to the small domestic rituals shared between Bingtown folk and the Rain Wilders. The Rain Wilds in particular inspire a sense of wonder – something all too often lacking in fantasy fiction.

In addition to a multitude of settings, we are witness to a multitude of points of view. As a sample of this variety, we have Wintrow, the boy in training to be a priest; Althea, the tomboyish daughter of the Vestrit family; Kennit, the ambitious pirate; Paragon, the mad ship; Ronica, the pragmatic Vestrit matriarch; Brashen, the disgraced Bingtown son; and Malta, the girl you want to smack in the face. Personal, political and fantastical plot lines are woven together masterfully for all these characters, and if you ever get weary of one story-line, you know that a fresh point of view is not far away. Similarly, there is a mixture of light (ooh~ island exploration~) and dark (sexual violence) material. The Liveship Traders is one of those rare series where the tone, plot, setting and characters are balanced, so that you rarely feel overwhelmed or underwhelmed by any one aspect.

My only issue was that the ending seemed way too unrealistic (and yes, I do realise this is a series about talking ships).

Being a human myself, I found it very hard to believe the way everyone just capitulated to Tintaglia’s demands – I mean, I understand why, but these people seemed happy to cause and ensure the eternal subjugation of their entire species forever. I may be exaggerating a bit, but well, as far as I can tell, this does not seem like people at all.

Well, most people anyway.

While this plot-point is a minor proportion of the story as a whole, it altered my esteem for the entire series – a series that, up to this point, had been pretty consistently awesome. Otherwise, The Liveship Traders wrapped up in a relatively satisfying, albeit open-ended way.

<Spoiler alert, obviously>

While this may be a tired comparison, I’d say that if you enjoy Game of Thrones, you’d probably like this series too. It’s similar in that it covers a broad scope of characters, settings and dilemmas and it’s different in that it’s actually finished. In any case, your priority here should be to read The Farseer Trilogy – not only will it enhance your reading of The Liveship Traders, but it’s also excellent. I mean, it’s less “balanced” than The Liveship Traders, but if I’m to be completely honest, its wildness is precisely why I like it better of the two.

Alex’s Rating: 4/5

Book Review: Love in the Time of Cholera

Title: Love in the Time of Cholera
Author: Gabriel García Márquez; English translation by Edith Grossman
Year Published: 1985, translation 1988
Genre: Romance, General and literary fiction, Erotica, Drama, Historical fiction

Florentino Ariza falls in love with the beautiful Fermina Daza, but just as the two are about to marry, Fermina breaks it off. Worse, she marries the prestigious Doctor Juvenal Urbino instead. Florentino lives a dissolute lifestyle as he pines for his true love, while the seemingly perfect Urbinos struggle with their marriage. Some fifty years later, the old paramours reunite, giving Florentino a second chance to declare his feelings.

Put this way, the plot sounds very straightforward, and I suppose it is. And yet, the book is absolutely captivating. Márquez brings his characters to life in a way that is simply masterful. The protagonists are only ever almost likeable (for me, at least), but there is no doubting that they are human in all their flaws and virtues. As you read their stories, you become intimately acquainted with who they are, how they feel and how they think, though at the same time, there is something about each person that is left a mystery. An exquisite depth and breadth of human experience is captured within these pages, from the mundane to the alarming. The book covers events as varied as Fermina’s and Urbino’s greatest argument (there was soap!) to Florentino’s defecation in a carriage and the brutal murder of a woman following infidelity.

Cholera is set in an unnamed city, presumably in Colombia, during the turn of the 20th century. It’s a context with various social, political and yes, medical concerns which all go to shaping the identity of the characters. Though the flavour of the setting suffuses the entire book, it never overwhelms; rather, it forms a natural part of the story, the characters and the writing. On that note, there is something sensual, visceral and almost sweaty about the way this book is written. I admire the English translator for having achieved (or preserved) this atmosphere, but at the same time, I can only at speculate as to how much has been lost in translation.

I will mention now that while romantic love is the focus of the book, sex and sex-related topics feature prominently. It is at this point that I turn to our hero Florentino Ariza. While some may see him as the ultimate romantic, to me, he is, more than anything, one seriously creepy dude. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that he’s the most polarising character of the book. Be ye warned for the spoilery discussion below (though you might want to know about these things if you intend to read the book as a romance) – highlight to read.

<major spoilers>

So, how is Florentino creepy? Well, he “falls in love” with the thirteen year old Fermina at the moment he first he lays eyes on her, transforming into what we nowadays would call a stalker. While we get a great sense of his passion and obsession, there is no real sense of why he “loves” her so fiercely; he just does, or thinks he does. When he is rejected, he swears to stay faithful to her: after all, her husband has to die at some point. Later, after Florentino is sort of raped on a boat, he becomes a sex maniac. He dedicates himself to seeking out women who’ll have sex with him and he documents his encounters in writing. His various affairs (622 apparently) comprise a large portion of his life and of the book. But of course, our hero must stay true to his One True Love, meaning he basically treats these women as (thankfully consensual) sex objects.

As overblown and ridiculous as Florentino’s feelings might seem at times, it’s easy to believe that he believes them. Despite his shifty behaviour, it’s also possible to root for him and wish for his happiness… for most of the book.  For this reader, our hero crosses the moral event horizon when he goes all Humbert Humbert on us near the end, which, as a friend deftly put it, is “totally not cool”. At this point, I found him so morally repugnant that I was all the more amazed at my ability to still kind of sympathise for him. It’s a testament to the author’s skill that he can write a character so vile and so human, whose actions can be seen as both romantic and sociopathic at the same time. I found the ending, with all its romantic airs, to be highly unsettling. The book’s brilliant like that. 

</spoilers>

Love in the Time of Cholera is an exploration of love and lust; it demands its reader to think about love and what it is. You may conclude that this is a story of the deepest love, or alternatively, that none of the characters know love at all. It makes you wonder what you know of love. Additionally, the book touches on themes of time and mortality. The foibles of the human body and the vicissitudes of aging are thrown into the limelight, adding another dimension to our thoughts on love – how it lasts and how it changes. There are no easy answers. These notions are integrated organically within the story, and to read and think about them is thus never a chore (…and that is all I will say about the book’s ~themes, for I am neither doing homework nor writing a set of CliffsNotes).

Beautifully written and startlingly human, I highly recommend Love in the Time of Cholera. While it’s an immersive read, you should know that it’s not a necessarily a comfortable one. It’s primarily a meditation on love, but it also deals with sex, perversion and degenerating bodies, which might not be what everyone is after. For what it’s worth, I personally found it tender, sad and disturbing – and much too ominous to be romantic (seriously, look at Florentino, man). It’s not so much a love story as a story about love. The book can be wonderfully romantic, frighteningly sinister, or something else entirely, depending on your interpretation, and that’s what makes Love in the Time of Cholera such a masterpiece.

Alex’s Rating: 4.5/5

Book Review: The Book Thief

Title: The Book Thief
Author: Markus Zusak
Year Published: 2005
Genre: Historical fiction, Young adult

Set in Nazi Germany, The Book Thief tells the story of Liesel Meminger, a German girl who goes to live in the fictional town of Molching after being fostered to new parents. It’s a Holocaust bildungsroman that’s proven massively popular, so much so that it’s now also a movie, coming soon to a cinema near you.

The first thing you notice about the book is the writing style. Death serves as the narrator, and in addition to the story proper, we occasionally get Death’s commentary, which comes in the form of asides.

~* An Illustration of what I mean *~

This is what Death’s commentary looks like in the book.
Passages like this interrupt everything and they’re everywhere.

Just everywhere.
Is ‘commentary’ even the right word?

Extensive use of imagery pervades the novel and the prose itself can be rather stylised. For the most part, it’s very readable, but now and then you get the feeling that words and phrases were carefully chosen and polished for maximum poetic effect.

~* A Sample of Mr Zusak’s Writing, taken from Page Fourteen *~

“For hours, the sky remained a devastating, home-cooked red. The small German town had been flung apart one more time. Snowflakes of ash fell so lovelily you were tempted to stretch out your tongue to catch them, taste them. Only, they would have scorched your lips. They would have cooked your mouth.”

It’s a very quirky style and it demands to be noticed. Its popularity with readers is understandable: it’s unique, it’s lyrical and it has that lush quality about it. However, I personally was put off by the self-consciousness of it all; it just wasn’t to my taste.

~* Heck, here’s another, this time from Page Three Hundred and Eighty-two *~

“At times, in the basement, she woke up tasting the sound of the accordion in her ears.”
There are more like this, but I can’t be bothered finding them.

You get the gist.

Most of the time, the style is relatively simple and neutral, but every so often some particularly ~poetic phrase comes along and takes you out of the story and into the mechanics of the writing. In these cases, the language and format feel particularly clumsy and childish, kind of like something a teenager would write (no offence to the Rimbauds out there). For these reasons, I also wasn’t entirely convinced by Zusak’s portrayal of Death as an entity. Having Death narrate your story is a brave choice, but I’m not sure it’s one the author pulled off.

~* Oh, and the German *~

Another minor problem I had was with the use of German words. They were sometimes translated into English and sometimes not. This just left me confused as to whether I was supposed to know the meanings of all the German words to properly read this book.

For a novel entitled The Book Thief, I expected more books and more thievery than what there actually is. Instead, the main concern of the book is Liesel’s day-to-day life, full of childhood adventure, schoolyard fights and nostalgia. We have the kind father, the shouty but loving mother, the boy who loves you and the enemy neighbour. They’re the ingredients for a slice-of-life sort of tale, and while there is nothing wrong with this – indeed, I liked it  – I believe that the title and blurb of The Book Thief give the impression that the story is a lot more epic than it actually is. So if you’re after an ‘exciting’ Holocaust novel, this probably isn’t the book for you.

On that note, one thing that irked me was the somewhat facile treatment of the historical context. Now, perhaps it’s because the first pieces of Holocaust fiction I read were The Reader and Maus, but I found this book to be almost insultingly simple. While this may all be very well for a middle grade or (young) young adult reader (a story where Germans are the good guys? woah!), I would have liked more complexity all around. The characters are all pretty much either good or evil and what little exploration of moral issues there is seems rather shallow. For example, consider ‘The World Shaker’ (which, bizarrely, is printed in tiny, hard-to-read font), a book that features within The Book Thief. Written and illustrated by the persecuted Max, it includes an illustration of a man in The Führer Shop (page 475) selling containers of “FEAR”, “HATRED” and “small moustaches ½ price”. Now, if this isn’t the stuff of Year 8 Art projects, then I don’t know what is. I know this is classed as a young adult novel, and perhaps I’m being unfair, but I expected, well, more. Like an emo teen’s poetry on the livejournal of yore, The Book Thief isn’t nearly as deep as it wants to be.

~* The Reader and Maus *~

are both excellent books, by the way

(or at least, they were when I read them some ten years ago, wow, crap I’m old.

They’re by Bernhard Schlink and Art Spiegelman respectively.

I’d recommend The Reader if you want a bit more of an exploration into the ‘German side’ of things and I’d recommend Maus (which is a comic) generally, but also as an introduction for those just starting to learn about the Holocaust).

In addition to the pretentious style and the simplification of the context, another thing that irritated me was the ending. Now, we all know that this tale won’t end with flowers and sunshine, but still, it was so sudden and abrupt to the point where it felt almost like laziness. It’s as if the author thought, hmm, crap, how do I end this? Oh, I know! And yet I found myself getting teary-eyed even in my annoyance.

I know this review reads like a litany of complaints, but I did enjoy this novel overall. It’s hard not to feel for – or at least like – Liesel and her family and the other ‘good’ characters. Her coming-of-age in a small town was, as odd as it sounds, a pleasure to read. It’s warm and bittersweet, with a healthy dose of charm. Her relationships, and especially that with her father, shine with a real humanity and sense of love. All in all, there’s such a bright-eyed earnestness about The Book Thief that I couldn’t help but be moved despite all my problems with it.

~* One Last Thing *~

Happy New Year!

Alex’s Rating: 3/5

Book Review: The Lions of Al-Rassan

Title: The Lions of Al-Rassan 

Author: Guy Gavriel Kay
Year Published: 1995
Genre: Historical fantasy

I was desperate for a standalone historical fantasy set somewhere other than in ye olde generic medieval European village, and I picked this one up on the basis it was set in an analogue of Islamic Iberia. Knowing nothing about the author, I could only hope that the book did its setting justice. Not one chapter in, I knew I’d made the right choice when I stumbled upon the words “urine flask”.

Full of rich and evocative detail, The Lions of Al-Rassan is a sweeping epic about the lands of Al-Rassan and (former) Esperaña. The Asharites, who conquered the peninsula in years past, have splintered after the fall of the khalifate, and the once united Al-Rassan is now a collection of warring city-states. In the north, three Jaddite kingdoms have emerged after Al-Rassan’s decline. Of Al-Rassan’s petty kings, King Almalik of Cartada is on the rise, and this stirs tensions throughout the entire region. It is in this volatile environment that our story begins.

To describe the plot would be to spoil the novel – even the events of the blurb don’t happen until a good way into the book – so I will only say that it involves political manoeuvrings both at court and on the battlefield. Kay moves masterfully between matters of state and matters of the heart, allowing you to follow the broader history of Al-Rassan as well as the personal journey of its protagonists. There are battles, quiet family moments, verbal smack-downs and daring escapes. The balance between all these different elements is done so well, the transitions so natural, that it’s all a joy to read. Overlaying all of this is an almost painful sense of poignancy. The transience of power and greatness is a recurring theme. The fall of an empire is mourned even as it is celebrated and wars are inescapable even before they begin. In my opinion, this exploration of war, politics and human nature is really what sets The Lions of Al-Rassan apart from your typical fantasy novel.

The book features a large cast of colourful characters, though the story largely revolves around three. The first is Jehane bet Ishak, a Kindath physician and owner of the aforementioned urine flask. As a “neutral” and relatively apolitical figure, we are introduced to the Asharite/Jaddite conflict through her eyes. The others are the legendary assassin/poet/diplomat Ammar ibn Khairan of Cartada and renowned military leader Rodrigo Belmonte of Jaddite Valledo. Our trio develop deep friendships in a time of unrest, and one of the most interesting aspects of the book was how their personal, religious and political affiliations influenced their relationships and vice versa. As I feared, however, a dreaded love triangle did emerge – though thankfully not as the focus of the novel.

All three are improbably super special awesome and yet, shockingly, remain likeable. In fact, so many people in this book are so super special awesome that it beggars belief. Despite this, I found it hard to dislike most of the characters in the book. Kay allows you to relate to those on different sides of the conflict and I believe that this help balances out the Sue-ness to some degree.

If you’re a fan of historical fiction, I’d recommend The Lions of Al-Rassan to you with reservations. There are barely any fantasy elements in this story, with the closest thing to “magic” being a boy’s (rarely used) psychic abilities. The focus, rather, is on politics and people and a world that is ours but not. Kay draws heavily from Spanish history but refuses to be bound by things mundane as ‘facts’. It’s fantasy after all, and Kay has been able to pick and choose all his favourite bits and shape them into whatever story he wants. However, being so close to history, Kay’s Al-Rassan may seem overly simplistic. For example, the Asharites, Jaddites and Kindath are quite overtly analogues of Muslims, Christians and Jews. The relationship between these three groups is surprisingly complex and layered – when compared to other fantasy worlds – yet as soon as we compare these dynamics to real life it feels like history-lite. Adding to this historically superficial feeling is the sizeable number of tropes and clichés (action girls, a masked carnival, prostitutes with hearts of gold) as well as the improbably advanced state of medical knowledge evinced throughout. Similarly, some of the characters – particularly the women – and their interactions and values feel very, very modern. Again, this is fine if you read the book as a fantasy, but it sort of falls apart if you’re trying to picture an historically sound 11th century Spain.

The writing itself is very descriptive, drawing a rich picture of Al-Rassan’s sumptuous palaces, lively cities and crowded markets – which, funnily enough, are a refreshing change from ye olde forests and castle towns. At the very beginning, all the various terms, characters and historical references might feel overwhelming, but it gets a lot easier once you become familiar Kay’s world. The writing style is a little on the dense side, and the author seems to like telling us about some event upfront, then going back and describing how things got to be there. For this reason, I found it easy to put down the book at times – I enjoyed the read, but didn’t always feel compelled to read on.

The Lions of Al-Rassan wormed its way into my affections very quickly. I really loved reading about an Islamic-influenced world and I was also glad at how richly that world was developed. Further, the story and its characters are vibrant, and this, in addition to all your favourite tropes, lends some fun to what otherwise could have been a dry and serious piece of historical fiction. Granted, the cheesy bits made me roll my eyes at times, but being in the perfect mood for this, I found myself charmed overall. There is a lovely, bittersweet mood that suffuses the book. Despite seemingly endless warfare, Kay paints a vision where the common bond of humanity offers hope for the future. If you’re after something different from the usual fantasy fare, definitely give this one a try.


Alex’s Rating: 4.5/5

Book Review: Pull of the Yew Tree

Title: Pull of the Yew Tree (The Chronicles of Crom Abu #1)

Author: Pauline Toohey

Year Published: 2013

Genre: Historical fiction, Drama, Romance

Set in 15^th century Ireland, Pull of the Yew Tree tells the story of three rival clans: the Fitzgeralds, the O’Byrnes and the O’Tooles. Brought together in an uneasy alliance, they must deal with local Irish rebels, the English conflict between the Houses of York and Lancaster, each other and themselves. Amidst this political minefield, there’s also a love story: Jarlath Fitzgerald and Ainnir O’Byrne fall swiftly and deeply in love, but events conspire to keep the two apart.

There’s so much happening during period of history that it’d be easy to lose track of what’s going on and who everyone is, especially if you (like me) know next to nothing about the War of the Roses. However, the author narrows the focus down to a couple of conflicts – some political, some personal – so by and large it’s easy to follow. One thing I liked was how the author included a character list at the beginning to indicate which characters were fictional. The blurb sort of makes Pull of the Yew Tree sound like a dramatic retelling of historical fact, but it’s more historical fiction than anything else. At any rate, the book is mostly about Jarlath and Ainnir (both fictional), so if you’re after a young, passionate and aching sort of romance in a historical setting, this could be the book for you.

The characters and their relationships with one another are easily the best part of the novel. They all have distinct, vibrant personalities and it’s hard to not sympathise with them. The Jarlath/Ainnir romance felt really fresh to me; I normally dislike “love at first sight” kind of set-ups, but in this case, it felt natural. Both characters can be somewhat stereotyped – Jarlath as the loveable rogue turned brooding hero, Ainnir as the feisty young princess – but they make a very lively pair and it’s hard not to like them. I will mention that I think their main problem could have easily been resolved with a few conversations, but I’ll give it a pass for now. You want them to find their happy ending and I found myself reading the book for the romance rather than the political intrigue.

On that note, if you’re after some juicy political intrigue, you might be somewhat disappointed. Since the focus is on the Fitzgeralds and the O’Byrnes, there’s not much on the other Irish clans, and the Yorkist/Lancastrian conflict remains largely distanced and strangely separated from the smaller scale conflicts at hand. Personally, I would have liked more intrigue. As it is, there’s only enough to show that conflicts exist, but not enough to give them meat. The politics feel superficial even when they come to the fore – for example, (spoiler) when Jarlath goes to England, I didn’t really get what he was actually doing there and why, other than some vague sense of fighting for York (/spoiler). Similarly, some of the characters’ reasons for doing things don’t quite feel fleshed out. We have some characters change their minds or make decisions all in the space of a few paragraphs, where the change seems to have come about because the plot required it, rather than because of any deeper sort of motivation.

The broad-strokes approach to historical fact allows you to fill in the gaps as you please, which may or may not be a good thing for lovers of historical fiction. I’m no history buff myself, so I can’t say how accurate the book is. The only thing that caught my eye was the presence of “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” in Earl Thomas’ library – “Romance of the Three Kingdoms”, I’m assuming, being a translated version of the 14^th century classical Chinese text of the same name. I mean, I guess it’s not physically impossible for such a thing to exist in the library of a 15^th century Irish Earl, but it is highly implausible, so, if you’re a history pedant, you might want to take note.

Most of the narration is written in neutral prose, with the occasional foray into lyricism. The best examples of this come in the rich descriptions of the setting, with its rolling hills and green forests, and the various literary and mythical references to figures like Tristan and Isolde. While I appreciated a pretty turn of phrase here and there, I wasn’t sure if they were always used to best effect. Sometimes they added to the atmosphere, other times they felt like dead weight cluttering up the story. Overall, however, I thought the descriptions were done nicely, and that the author evoked a sense of place very well.

For me, the main problem with the writing occurs in some of the dialogue, which sometimes gives the impression of Ye Olde Englishe – and not in the Shakespearean way, but the way where it feels like someone is trying to give an impression of Ye Olde Englishe. At other times, the dialogue was a bit more modern or neutral, which I preferred, and which was more consistent in tone with the rest of the book. At other times still, there was a bit of “show your research” going on, and gratuitous facts were added, sometimes in an almost textbook tone. The narration, in third person, also jumps from character to character, sometimes between paragraphs, and this confused me more than once. There were a few times where we get inside a character’s head and the next paragraph begins with “Eyes looked to the sky” or something similar, where it turns out that said eyes belong to the narrating character. I’m not sure if I just got used to it or whether it evened out, but I noticed these things less as I got towards the end.

I’d be lying if I said I never judge a book by its cover, and I totally judged this book for its use of Papyrus (though I’ll hasten to add that my dislike of Papyrus has no bearing on my rating). A word of warning: the cover image may give you the impression that the book is Young Adult, but I wouldn’t quite say it falls into that category, given the loose references to sex. The book also has a nice velvety feel and is without a doubt the nicest feeling book I own. My other cover-related complaint concerns the publisher’s logo on the back, which looks suspiciously like it was created using Microsoft WordArt, the likes of which you may remember from PowerPoint presentations circa 1998. Now, I understand that it’s an independent publisher, that there may be budget constraints, and that it’s not related to the actual content of the book itself, but this sort of thing projects a lazy and unprofessional sort of image, which is not a good look for either the publisher or its authors.

Pull of the Yew Tree is Pauline Toohey’s debut novel, and I get the sense she’ll only improve over time. Parts of the book fell a bit flat for me – namely, the “nakedness” of the plot and the occasional changes of heart or events that didn’t quite convince. Another problem for me was the patchy writing, though as this is a debut novel, it seems like the sort of thing that will even out in future. For these reasons, there were times I didn’t want to pick the book up again after having put it down. The strength in this book lies in its characters, as well as the atmosphere the author is able to evoke; hopefully the next book in the series will demonstrate stronger writing and delve further into the politics underlying the setting.

Alex’s Rating: 2.5/5

(Disclaimer: I received this book for free through Goodreads’ First Reads.)

Movie Review: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

Title: Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

Director: Timur Bekmambetov

Year released: 2012

Running Time: 105 mins

Classification: R

Genre: Action, Fantasy, Horror

Even the thought of Abraham Lincoln being a vampire hunting is preposterous and they decide on making it a non-comedy. Did it deliver? NO.

For anyone who doesn’t know this already, Abraham Lincoln was the 16^th President of the United States and is famously known for ending slavery. He was assassinated in 1865.

Oh and he hunted vampires.

For a movie like this, I expected action and/or horror and/or comedy. From the trailer, it didn’t seem like a horror or comedy. Even so the trailer looked good. It made the title Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter look appealing...... ok so maybe just appealing to me. I was disappointed. 

Personally I am not a big fan of vampire movies, but I’ve seen enough to know how standard vampire movies are. I know vampires are not real therefore vampire hunters are not real, but in the Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter world they are. The vampires still have super strength etc etc and humans are still boring with no special power. So, how can a measly human boy fight vampires without any chemical/biological/technological help?

We start with a young Abraham getting thrown into walls by a ‘bullet in one eye socket’ vampire to a older Abraham throwing vampires out of trains with no assistance. No ‘super strength biological serum’ injection was used and no advanced technology was used. This does not sound plausible.

I get that most people watch it for the action and don’t mind if there’s no reason to Abraham’s super strength but I’m just one of those people who believe if you’re going to make a movie, don’t make it sloppy.

These vampires are not very convincing either. Be romantic or be scary. The vampires in this movie just confuse me. I wasn’t sure if they healed or were just immortal with a human shell. They weren’t particularly scary and obviously not romantic. (Which is fine since vampires are a type of walking dead. Why would anyone fall in love with a corpse? I don’t care how good looking they are.) It felt like the writer wasn’t sure which vampire rules they should stick by. Vampires with powers or vampires who heal and are scared of sun?

There’s a poor effort to integrate the vampire war with the Civil War (I may me be mistaken about the Civil War). I understand the attractiveness of it. To have a non related vampire story integrated into real history would be fun but this was poorly achieved. This is due to the weak background of the story and the awful editing. One day Abraham is young, the next he has a massive beard, a cane and his famous top hat. The texture of the movie design was probably the only thing that was consistent throughout the film.

Before I forget, Abraham’s wife is played by Mary Elizabeth Winstead... not much else to tell since this movie does not play on romance either.

The only thing I was impressed by was how much they made Benjamin Walker look like Abraham Lincoln near the end of the film.

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter has nothing to offer. Maybe if it wasn’t for the bad editing and unfilled gaps, the movie might have had some potential. Overall, it is not worth anyones time unless of course you want to waste time.

If your looking for a vampire movie, please seek else where as these vampires are busy trying to set their own fictional rules. 

Terri's Rating: 1/5

Book Review: Tinkers

Title: Tinkers
Author: Paul Harding
Year Published: 2009
Genre: General and literary fiction, Contemporary fiction, Drama

Paul Harding's Tinkers is an interesting work. The plot, as it is, concerns an old man who begins to hallucinate eight days before he dies. Through an odd, dream-like lens, the novel reveals snatched glimpses of his life, his father's life and his grandfather's life. It's a strange and stunning experience from beginning to end.

Harding's use of language is masterful and evocative, descriptive yet lean at the same time. As you read about George's childhood with his travelling salesman father Howard, and Howard's childhood in turn, you really feel the stark isolation of life in early 20th century New England. You also sympathise with George as he lies in his living room with his family, waiting for death, and you can also believe that Howard experiences his epileptic seizures as episodes of the divine. As in memories and dreams, things are at once hazy and clear and logical and not. Simply put, Tinkers contains some of the best writing I've read in a long time.

The book shifts back and forth between different points of view, different tenses, different stories and different times. The author uses no quotation marks, which further blurs the line between thought, dialogue, hallucination and narration. Sometimes, the prose erupts into stream-of-consciousness mode, resulting in sentences so long they leave you breathless. At other times, passages are interrupted mid-story to make way for fictional extracts from The Reasonable Horologist and another, unknown work. This can all be quite maddening. If the thought of reading something “literary” makes you shudder, then this is most definitely not the book for you. Indeed, the way it's written feels almost like Harding's thrown in the whole Eng Lit bag of tricks. On its face, the narrative is just a bunch of events, told in no apparent order, with no apparent connection (other than the familial connection of the characters), and no apparent conclusion. It seems deliberately confusing and gives the impression of being one of those books where the author is just showing you how much smarter and deeper s/he is than you are or ever will be, you pleb, you.

Ultimately, I was moved by the book's characters – you really do become immersed in their lives – and I marvelled at Harding's ability to craft finely captured “moments” in almost every scene. The writing truly demands to be noticed; it is beautiful in a strangely refreshing way and reading it was like being dipped into a clear, still pool of water. Everything is so well done that I couldn't help but like Tinkers, and yet, at the same time, it was so stylised and so aggressively ~literary~ that I almost hated it. Just as well it's a short read – any longer and admiration could have easily turned to disdain.

Alex's Rating: 4/5

Adaptations of Jane Austen's 'Emma'

Jane Austen's works are the subject of many a film adaptation and today, I'm focussing on Emma. Our titular heroine is a rich, handsome and clever young woman who plays matchmaker in her little Regency England social circle. Romantic misunderstandings ensue. Like Austen's other works, there is a Happy Ever After for the heroine, in which she ends up with a man. But unlike some of Austen's other works, it is not immediately apparent who that lucky man will be. So if you'd like to keep the suspense going, then I suggest you look away. On the other hand, if you want to know whether you'll like the romance in this story, read on. This piece is intended to help you find an adaptation you'll like. To date, I have only seen four film adaptations of the work. Here they are in no particular order.

But first, a quick rant on the book...

Austen predicted that she had created in Emma a heroine whom no one would like but herself. I'll admit: the one (and only) time I read the book, I disliked Emma. As clever and as lively as she was, I could not forgive Emma's superior manner and selfishness. She treats her “friend” Harriet like a toy – to be picked up and discarded at whim – and I with my 21st century values found Emma's snobbishness to be very off-putting, despite how “appropriate” such behaviour might have been two centuries ago.

Even so, I thought she could have done better in her choice of romantic partner. I mean, Mr Knightley is perhaps the only decent fellow of the lot, but I did not feel their romance at all. Their pairing seemed too convenient, almost but not quite as bad as Marianne and You-Know-Who at the end of Sense and Sensibility (but that's a different rant). Mr Knightley was also old (can you tell I read this when I was young?) and felt more like a relative. When he talks about having known her since she was a baby and starting to love her since she was thirteen – he, at the time, being almost thirty – then yeah... not sexy. At least, not for me with my prudish 21st century Western sensibilities.

Still, it's Austen, so I don't think I need to say that it's a good book, my dislike of the heroine aside. As you might expect, the characterisation is deft and there's a lot of comedy in this comedy of manners. Further, if you're watching a Regency drama then you at least know (in an Austen story) that the plot and character arcs will come together in a largely satisfying way.

1. Emma (1996)

This version, starring Kate Beckinsale as Emma, was the first adaptation I watched. I don't remember much of this other than thinking, at the time, that it was a faithful adaptation of the book. It has a similar look to the 1995 Pride and Prejudice miniseries and there's a muted darkness to the colours. Beckinsale is appropriately girlish and haughty as Emma while Mark Strong is decidedly avuncular as Mr Knightley (also, I have no idea why he mentions holding her as a baby during his freaking marriage proposal and it haunts my mind to this very day). His hair is also distractingly bad. The Knightley/Emma relationship feels like an adult/child relationship (I got the feeling he'd be the sort to constantly scold her while she'd maybe sulk and cry), but hey, you might like that. Alternatively, you might interpret it differently. I enjoyed the film but liked neither of the main characters. I liked even less that they got together. Otherwise, I remember it being pleasant to watch.

2. Emma (1996)

The Gwyneth Paltrow movie is a lighter take on the story, with the comedic aspects of the tale being played up. There are more active, outdoors-y scenes in this one and there's a warm, 90s sort of feel to the aesthetic, not unlike the 1992 version of Little Women. The beginning feels rushed – a lot of information is dumped on the viewer – and for the first half hour or so it feels like everyone is Acting (I also spent way too much time pondering Paltrow's accent than I should have). It took me a while to get into the film, but when I did, I was surprised to find I rather liked it. Emma seems kinder and more of a goody-two-shoes in this version and I liked her the better for it. Jeremy Northam's Mr Knightley exudes a sort of off-duty sexy professor vibe, and as he's much less imposing than Mark Strong, I much preferred this Emma/Knightley pairing to the one in the other 1996 Emma. However, the performances in general are nothing to write home about and I didn't much care for the side characters (though Mrs Weston was distractingly gorgeous). Still, it's good if you want a sweet, romantic film.

3. Emma (2009)

This 2009 adaptation really benefits from being a miniseries, as the increased length gives it the opportunity to flesh out both the novel's story-lines and characters. In some ways, everything about the atmosphere of this series feels like a revenge against those criticisms of “stuffiness” as regards Regency costume dramas: there are plenty of bright colours and exterior shots and there is a much greater sense of familiarity (perhaps to the point of excess) between the characters. Romola Garai's Emma is lively and energetic; she's snobby but she seems so eager to do well that it's easier to like her. While largely faithful to the book, there is a major departure from the source in terms of Emma's own romantic arc. The series places more of a focus on this and there is no slow-build “reveal” of Mr Knightley as her One True Love: from the very moment you see Mr Knightley, here played by Jonny Lee Miller, you know he's the Designated Love Interest. Here, Mr Knightley comes across as reasonable and kind, and his relationship with Emma feels like one of equals, so that gets a thumbs up from me. The Frank Churchill/Jane Fairfax business seems to drag on towards the end, but overall I think this version is one of the more cohesive ones and has one of the better casts. Michael Gambon is a hoot as the hypochondriac Mr Woodhouse.

4. Clueless (1995)

The fact it's a very loose adaptation set in a modern American high school might scare some of you off, but really, it's great fun. Emma is reincarnated as Cher Horowitz (Alicia Silverstone), a rich white girl who along with her black best friend Dionne (Stacey Dash) takes it upon herself to “rescue” new student Tai (Brittany Murphy) from the horrors of unpopularity and loser-dom. What I love about this movie is how it plays with all the movie/high school tropes and how funny and quotable it is. Cher is snobby and silly but she's so well-meaning that you root for her nonetheless. She's taken down a peg or two in this film too, and I appreciated seeing more of her personal growth. I don't have much to say about the Mr Knightley character in this one, other than that he's there, he seems alright and he does what he needs to. I also liked how the Emma/Harriet storyline takes centre-stage over the romance. Worth watching, regardless of whether you like Emma. Probably my favourite adaptation and undoubtedly one of the best American High School films out there.

So there you have it. All these adaptations are different and all have their pros and cons. I don't think any of them are “definitive” adaptations but I do think they cater to different tastes. If you have recommendations or favourites, let me know; I'd be interested to see what else is out there!

(A/N: As you can see, I'm trying something a bit different from the usual reviews. Let me know what you think :))