Alex – Last year I aimed to make my way through some of my unread backlog, read my mother's favourite novels, the twelve-part Anthony Powell creation A Dance to the Music of Time, and tackle Vikram Seth’s A Suitable Boy (huge, but apparently worth it). I was also going to review each book as I finished it.
Sadly, once again my resolutions were for naught. At the time of writing I'm just finishing writing up the dozen books read but unreviewed over the course of 2009. I read neither the Powell nor the Seth works, and my own unread book piles were added to rather than diminished even though I took a dozen or so overseas with me (and left them there). This year I will read a Powell book each month, and both Lynn and I have decided to alternate our own books with those from other sources like the library.
I did read marginally fewer books this year - of the 254 books I reviewed, 222 were fiction and only 32 non-fiction (and yet another year with no poetry, except by accident). I've been interested to see that the strength of the last part of the year has coloured my perception of the year as a whole, and I'd completely blanked out the odd run of books I hated or abandoned. Starting there we have:
Most disappointing novel: Dakota Cassidy's The Accidental Werewolf just didn't do it for me, particularly as it's one of only two books I recommended my library purchase. I thought Anton Strout's Dead to Me had more promise than it delivered, but did like the author's comment, which acknowledged that it wasn't for me without taking this on board as a vituperative attack on his very personhood (thank you, Anton).
Least rewarding non-fiction book: in a year where I put more books aside than ever before, the stand out of disappointment was probably Vera Brittain's autobiography Testament of Youth, mostly because I had quite high expectations which fell wholly flat.
Most disliked read: the Twilight series - I pushed myself until I just couldn't read any more of it. Greatest achievement: an overseas trip forced me, by virtue of taking them with me and refusing to buy any other until they were read, to finally tackle half a dozen long unread members of my To Read pile. The three longest lingerers were John Berendt's Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (perhaps 15 years), Richard Adam's The Girl in a Swing (almost 30 years), and Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose, (some 20 years after buying it). Completing Eco's work is without question the triumph of my recreational reading year! Favourite novel: No question the most compelling novel I read this year was Lionel Shriver's We Have to Talk About Kevin, a book so gripping it inspired me to start a book group (we meet for the first time next month and so far feedback's been mixed).
Favourite non-fiction book: I'm torn between the really compelling The Faith Club (by far my longest review this year), all of Danny Wallace's adventures, the always readable Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers, and the Milton Erickson tribute My Voice Will Go With You. But the winner has to be The Brain That Changes Itself by Norman Doidge.
Favourite newly encountered author: I thoroughly enjoyed Kylie Chan's Dark Heavens trilogy, Linwood Barclay's atmospheric mysteries, and my belated discovery of the almost-Bagleyesque quality of Dick Francis's racing mysteries. Simon Kernick certainly warrants a follow up, as do Olive Etchells, CS Harris, Perri Klass and SM Stirling. But I think the winner is Carolyn Parkhurst, whose two, extremely different, novels were resonant reads that stayed with me long after they were finished and which I've recommended indiscriminately.
Interestingly, I realised writing this that I haven't read a single novel by Elizabeth Berg, my favourite author of 2008, but have recommended her to several people and sent my sister three of her books for Christmas.
Reviewing the year has reminded me of several authors I want to chase up in the year ahead, particularly CS Harris, Aimée and David Thurlo, Sean Doolittle, Ben Bova, Olive Etschells and Simon Kernick. As always the good news is that there are always great books being written and released, faster than I can read them. The bad news, of course, is that there are great books being written and released faster than I can read them - Alex
Lynn: My 2009 reading list has proved to be a rather uninspired one. With a couple of notable exceptions my book selections this year have been mediocre to poor. This has left me spoilt for choice when it comes to naming a worst book of the year.
My biggest disappointment would have to be Sandom’s The God Machine. I had such high hopes for this one but I found it to be a complete dud-a view not changed by the passionate arguments in support of it made here by the author (or author’s best friend, biggest fan, whatever).
But I feel it would be unfair to award this one the status of worst book read in 2009 because as a ‘did not finish’ I can’t claim to have actually read it.
So in a very closely run race the worst book I read in 2009 goes to The Eight by Katherine Neville. The sheer pointlessness of her work means she edges out Mary Gentle’s 1610: A Sundial in a Grave, which at least made some sense.
Strangely enough, choosing a best book I read in 2009 was not as easy as I thought it would be. Sure I could fall back on the tried and true Rickman or Greenwood, both of whom are consistently great but how could I choose between them. Take it as said that they rate right up there and with those two out of contention the very level playing field left meant that many could vie for the title. So for its warped and twisted fun I’m naming Bloodsucking Fiends by Christopher Moore my best read of 2009.
My favourite newly discovered (by me) writer for 2009 is a three way of historical romance authors. I was delighted to discover Pam Rosenthal, Jo Goodman and Joanna Bourne may their backlists be long and their careers longer.-Lynn
In January 1991 an SAS helicopter dropped an elite eight-man team into the Iraq desert. Laden with somewhere between eighty and a hundred kilos of pack each, unprepared for the frigid temperatures of the desert in winter, and with faulty communication equipment, the mission was an abject failure. Discovered by the enemy on the second day and split up in the ensuing confusion, three men died, four were taken captive, and one escaped into the relative safety of Syria. Two of the survivors, escapee ‘Chris Ryan’ and captive ‘Andy McNab,’ wrote memoirs of the mission and have since parlayed their fame into non-fiction and military adventure fiction writing careers. They lay blame, along with a third member of the Bravo Two Zero force, on a number of bodies, including intelligence and the SAS hierarchy. But blame is also laid, particularly by Ryan, on one of the dead platoon members, Sergeant Vince Phillips.
When former SAS member turned author Asher read the accounts, something didn’t quite ring true. The versions differed in significant detail, and some of the aspects, particularly about the local people, didn’t cohere with Asher’s experiences as a volunteer teacher in the Sudan or his consequent time living with a Bedouin tribe. So, with the blessing of Sergeant Phillips’s family, and with a BBC film-crew in tow, he set off to retrace the team’s journey, almost ten years later.
I knew very little about the initial mission and sequela, though I’d heard of both McNab and Ryan as writers of military fiction (the former particularly for a YA audience) and had some vague awareness of military backgrounds, the SAS and heroism. The rapid immersion into the events was a little overwhelming but generally compelling, and I felt Asher was even-handed though with sympathies inclined toward Phillips from the outset – justifiably, as it turns out. He explores the possibility that his findings, from interviews with key Iraqi figures to the geography, may be untrue, falsified or manipulated by the Iraqi government (his research was conducted pre-September 11), and he given strong reasons in support of believing these versions over the textual ones.
That the men displayed feats of heroism and amazing endurance is never questioned, but many of the significant details are strongly called into question. As Asher concludes,
Their true heroism is only marred… by the dubious nature of much of what they have subsequently written. So why was the basic story not enough?
The blame must lie not with McNab and Ryan, but with us, the reading public, who demand of our heroes not only endurance, but the esolution of all problems by force.
I was interested in how strongly shaped the mission was by lack of understanding of what they were headed for, and of the essential nature of the majority of people they would encounter – Bedouin rather than Iraqi. As a social scientist I was fascinated by the idea of conducting this kind of operation without any sociological briefing, or with even one member of the party being able to speak any of the languages of the region. The SAS members’ attitude was heavily influenced by the kind of propaganda common in war, of the enemy as inhumane and brutish, and this is mirrored in the authors’ accounts of events. Asher compares the captured men’s treatment with that meted out by the Gestapo and by the Korean army during those wars, ending this section with:
it has to be said, in all fairness, and without excusing them in any sense for their brutality, that in retrospect the SAS might have done far worse than to fall into Iraqi hands. If it had been the Provisional IRA into whose clutches they had fallen, it is most unlikely they would have survived.
The comparisons between McNab and Ryan’s texts reminded me at times of theological comparisons of the Gospels, particularly John Shelby Spong's marvellous but somewhat inaccessible work surrounding the Crucifixion and Resurrection, which was unexpected. This is not intended to any way minimise the courage of the soldiers nor the strength, courage and endurance they demonstrated, but I found The Real Brave Two Zero all in all an interesting and well-written investigative piece into an event that has been mythologised in British military lore, and am interested in reading the two original versions of events.- Alex
One Two Two, the King of Demon's son is closing in on a rapidly weakening Shen Xuan Tian Shang Di - the Black Turtle of the North. Though Emma's skills at energy work and combat are proceeding at a phenomenal rate, her status as Xuan Wu's true love and betrothed make her an equally tempting target. Knowing that his time is rapidly drawing to an end, Xuan Wu and Emma try to make the most of the time they have, both for themsleves and to allow his beloved daughter to reach the fullest of her abilities to defend herself.
The powerful plotting, deeply grounded characterisation and compelling interweaving of Chinese mythology and theology, particularly the Tao, into an already captivating tale, makes this series stand head and shoulders above average. I can't remember the last time I was so immersed in a novel, not only going straight from one in the series to the next but forsaking other diversions because I wanted to know what happens next.Touched on in Red Phoenix, in Blue Dragon we get to see more of Emma’s family and explore her relationship with her parents and with her – very different - sisters. I appreciated the contrast between her family members, new and old, and their adaptation to Emma's changing fortunes.I also really liked the way Emma’s nationality influences her attitude and the way it’s portrayed - though no real-life characters are as Australian as Emma’s sister Amanda’s opal - and I loved the idea that Uluru is the Mother of all sentient stones. As I got toward the final third of Blue Dragon I was concerned that there wasn't enough room to conclude the trilogy. Chan does leave the ending hanging, but somehow I closed the book feeling satisfied, and hoping that the forthcoming Earth to Hell mentioned on the last page will continue the story. Just perfect. - Alex
Now more than a nanny for Chinese businessman John Chen, Australian Emma Donahue is engaged to the Shen who rules the Northern Heavens and is second only to the Jade Emperor. The King of the Demon's son One Two Two has not relented in his determination to take John's head to his father and thereby succeed as his number one, and he is going to new extremes - he's bred demon hybrids able to bypass the family's senses, leaving them vulnerable to attack.As Emma's own powers grow, she begins to suspect she may be more than just human, and worries that she poses a potential danger to her new family.This is an excellent series that combines one of the most powerful romances I've come across with a unique and gripping plot, brilliantly interweaving modern Hong Kong, East/West intersections and Chinese mythology. The characters, particularly of Emma's new family, are well wrought, and in this installment we also meet her blood family, beginning with her somewhat snobbish and competitive sister.
I think my favourite individual section is John’s angry defense of serpents as not evil, which not only contrasts with Emma’s western perspective but lays groundwork for her acceptance of this mysterious part of herself.I went straight from Red Phoenix to the third in the series, and so have a little trouble telling where one book ends and the other begins - although I knew this would be the case, I just couldn't wait to find out what happens next. - Alex
Eve McNabb had enjoyed getting to know her mother as an adult, a task made easier after May retired from her long-held position as head mistress to a village primary school. Her rapid death from breast cancer put paid to do that, and Eve took time from work to sort out the funeral and the house. Among the condolence cards was a curious letter, addressed to May from a woman Eve had never heard of, alluding to a lesbian relationship and mentioning Eve’s long dead father. It was enough to set Eve investigating, into her mother’s past and into the possible existence of a father Eve had never known and who may still be alive.
I’ve read Barnard’s mysteries for over twenty years, and his prowess has not flagged. They are slender but packed with plot and character, he has a real gift of capturing a personality, and his dialogue is natural and appears effortless. I was quickly invested in Eve’s search to uncover hidden truths, and really enjoyed the way Barnard caught up several threads into a narrative whole – in addition to the dual and related plots of May’s possible secret life and John’s reason for leaving England on short notice, there’s a murder and a romance that is warm and deftly portrayed despite its usually unsympathetic love interest, a married man. There is also one of the most resonant and shocking endings of a British cosy that I can remember for a long time. – Alex
The death of her academic father means that Lady Clare can no longer delay marrying – her island home Desire, centre of a perfumed toiletries industry, must have a protector, and she has no interest in the dastardly Nicholas of Seabern, who took her captive for four days and nights in hopes that besmirching her reputation would leave her no option but accept his suit. Even were it not for that Clare would never willingly take him to her bed, for in addition to his manifold other faults, he smells wrong to her.
Lady Clare sends her father’s liege lord, Thurston of Landry, a letter outlining her requirements for a husband – he must be of modest size, able to read, and of even temperament. Raised in his father’s household, but not of it, from the age of eight, Thurston’s bastard oldest son, Gareth, meets one of those requirements and has a thirst for land, a hunger for a place he belongs. On first sighting the beautiful but headstrong mistress of Desire, Gareth discovers a new hunger and thirst, and an additional reason to best his competition for the hand of Lady Clare.
Lynn has written previously about her affection for Quick’s work, and my first experience with her work has me on board. This charming and vibrant historical romance novel combines a mystery, dastardly foes, a spirited heroine who knows her own mind but is able to change it, a strong but understanding hero, and intelligent writing.
I could have done with the refrain of St Hermione’s sacred parts – Lady Clare references her finger, her ear, her brow and almost her maidenhead – but other refrains, particularly the many wedding eve offerings of chicken’s blood-filled vials Lady Clare is offered, are more amusing. I suspect more of Quick’s work will appear on these pages over the next few months, particularly as I know Lynn – who was more amused than I by Saint Hermione – has several actual bought Quick novels, including Desire, awaiting her. - Alex
Courtney, known to the world at large as Ace, is the poster girl for surfing supplier Ocean Pearl. A shoo-in for the team, going to training camp for selection is just a formality – she’s more concerned about her relationship with pro-surfer Tim. All he seems interested in is her body, but who will like her if they’re not together?
Georgie loves surfing, but over the past few months her enthusiasm has waned. Once she aspired to be like her role model, Ace, but now the idea of going to an elite training camp fills her with dread – something about the pressure of competition has taken all the joy of it and left only anxiety.
Georgie’s best friend Kia has a way to deal with her stress, but she can’t tell anyone. Above all she needs to show her father that she’s worthy of his love, but he’s so preoccupied with his best friend’s daughter he doesn’t ever seem to notice his own – Kia’s never met twelve-year-old Micki but she already hates her.
Micki’s been looking forward to the Elite Surfing camp for months, not only because she’ll get to hone her skills but also because she’ll get to meet Reg’s daughter, Kia. She just knows they’ll get along great. She has no idea that Kia will tell their cabin about her mother; it’s a good thing Kia doesn’t know about her dad, too.
This Australian YA novel combines narratives from each of the protagonists to create a story about surfing, competition, friendship and growth. I can see its accessibility for its target audience, and applaud Burke’s portrayal of young women invested in competitive physical activity in a traditionally male arena.
Despite this I couldn’t really get into Starfish Sisters, and not just because I managed to leave a library copy of the book on the tram (and am still hoping a kind person will return it). Perhaps I’m just too old and past the self-oriented angstyness, which I’m sure was a major factor in my missing the allure of the Twilight phenomenon. I just couldn’t get that invested in any of the characters, particularly Kia, who seems to have no redeeming features – she drops her best friend for the famous Ace, goes out of her way to make Kia miserable, and even though she’s tormented and at the end is shown to have the biggest problem of all, by that time she was so unsympathetic I really didn’t care. There’s a sequel, which I borrowed at the same time as borrowing a second copy, but I think I’ll pass on it for now. - Alex
Ed Kennedy spends his life alternating between working as a cabbie and playing cards with his three mates, Marv, who’s blindly loyal to his dilapidated light blue Falcon, Ritchie, who still lives at home with his parents, and the lovely Audrey, who dates losers and is unaware that Ed’s in love with her. When the four friends are caught up in a bank robbery, featuring possibly the world’s most inept criminal, it’s the closest thing to excitement that Ed’s known for a while. The would-be robber’s quickly caught, and Ed testifies against him, despite vows that he’s a dead man for doing so.
From this unpromising beginning arises a mission, one that Ed is conscripted into and afraid not to pursue. Following directions on a series of playing cards, Ed begins to observe a group of strangers, interfering with their lives for the general good. His interference comes at a cost – Ed is threatened, beaten up and terrified, by he feels a sense of purpose long missing from his life. And behind it all is the question – who is orchestrating it all?I really enjoyed the premise, the writing style, the character and voice of Ed, and the comedy laced through The Messenger. As Ed becomes involved in the lives of strangers he becomes more conscious of his own life, and is forced to confront truths about himself, his family and his friends that would otherwise stayed hidden.
However, I was hugely disappointed with the identity of the mastermind behind the whole thing. As a reader I was more interested in the journey than the impetus, and would probably have been relatively uncritical of a plausible, even if far-fetched, answer. Instead Zusak combines fourth-wall breaking, Literary style and a dollop of deus ex machine to create the written equivalent of Dallas's season eight it-was-all-a-dream ending – Ed is a character, the tasks were created by the author, and in the final words of the novel, “I’m not the messenger at all. I’m the message.”
Ick, yuck, moving on. – Alex
Bran, the North American Marrok, has decided it’s time to let humans know that werewolves live in their midst. He knows it’s not a popular decision, and has arranged a meeting of pack heads from Europe in Seattle to discuss the matter, though disclosure is not up for debate. His enforcer son Charles has been antagonistic about the idea - though he can’t articulate why, Charles senses strong danger. When Bran agrees to let Charles and his new wife Anna go in his stead, Charles feels an immediate release – his da will be safe if he stays away from Seattle.
The meetings will be overseen by one of the oldest and most powerful of the fae, a Gray Lord currently known as Dana Shea (a variant of the Gaelic daoine sidhe). She has vowed no harm will come to the participants, that attack will be met with swift retribution. But then Anna, the Seattle Alpha’s second, Tom, and Tom’s blind white witch wife are set upon by vampires and barely escape alive. It quickly becomes clear that at least one person has a hidden agenda, and while the Beast, Europe’s most sadistic and feared werewolf, is the likeliest suspect, there seem to be other forces also at work.
The second in the Mercy Thompson spin off series Alpha and Omega, Hunting Ground continues the story of Charles and Anna. He’s a centuries old born were, half Welsh half native American, at peace with his Brother Wolf but at odds with his father; until recently he’s been relatively content with his role as feared enforcer, comfortable staying apart from the pack, but his pair bonding with Anna has eased discomforts he didn’t know he had. Anna’s not yet twenty-five, a turned were of only three years, with an unhappy history before she was turned and a truly miserable past until Bran rescued her. She’s still coming to terms with the idea of trusting Charles, though her wolf is unquestionably connected to his, and as she learns more about him the more at ease she feels with this complex man she’s learning not only to trust but to love.
Though the plot is engaging and interesting in its own right, I was more captured by this unfolding, evolving relationship, and by the exploration of the characters of Charles and Anna. Briggs has created an engrossing world that stands out in an increasingly crowded genre. Although I enjoy Mercy’s adventures, I am more eager to read about what happens next to this Alpha and his calming but unquestionably not submissive Omega mate. – Alex
Lifelong friends Ben Schwartz and Abe Reich have fallen out, and as their disagreement becomes more entrenched both are less willing to budge. When the enmity threatens to disrupt the congregation, Jacob Wasserman turns to their rabbi, David Small, to intervene. Not everyone’s choice for rabbi, Small is young and more focused on Talmudic scholarship than assimilation and glad-handing. He decides to hold a Din Torah, akin to a rabbinic hearing, to resolve the problem, and turns to the general principles derived from centuries of analysis and debate of cases in the Talmud. Though he successfully resolves the matter, the board of directors is reluctant to renew Small’s appointment.
When the body of a murdered gentile woman is found on the temple grounds, suspicion is first cast on the rabbi – he was in his study around the time of the murder, and the victim’s handbag was found in his car. But Barnard’s Crossing police chief Hugh Lanigan quickly eliminates Small as a suspect. Against a background of in-fighting, fears of anti-Semitic ill-feeling, and debate over his usefulness to his congregation, the new rabbi tries to uncover the truth about the life and death of a young nanny.
The first in a highly successful series, Friday the Rabbi Slept Late is an engaging and very readable novel that combines Jewish culture and lore with a mystery. Unavoidably dated – it was originally published in 1964 – I was less surprised by the different emphasis on material possessions than by the level of ignorance about Judaism Small’s congregation has. In his introduction the late author explains that the novel arose out of his interest in the gap between the expectations of culturally Jewish second- and third-generation Americans and their new rabbi. This disconnect between experiences of Judaism as upbringing and ritual on the one hand, and adherence to and study of Jewish tenets on the other, was fascinating. I also enjoyed the contrast between life on the cusp of the twenty-first century’s second decade and small town America on the verge of the revolutionary sixties. There’s something about the sensibilities imbuing this novel that have a greater resonance on that level than a film, television series or retrospectively sited novel.
I seem lately to be coming across a seam of similar themes, and could not help but contrast this novel with the recently seen A Serious Man – also set in an early sixties American small town Jewish community. I found the comfort of religion in the novel, the tightness of the plot and the multi-dimensionality of the characters far more accessible and interesting than the dystopic film (however strongly acted and beautifully shot), and thoroughly enjoyed the use of discussions between Small and Lanigan as plot devices for contrasting Judaism with Christianity.
I did enjoy this kinder, gentler – despite the murder – novel and look forward to reading more. Sadly my library does not have the next two novels in Kemelman’s series, but I hope my parents do, and have vague memories of seeing the novels in the family library when I was younger. Watch this spot - Alex
Freya Daly’s life is completely under control. Well, okay, there’s this bizarre ocular issue that from time to time causes her to produce fluid that looks like tears and that none of the idiot doctors she’s been to can diagnose or treat, but otherwise everything’s going according to plan. Oh, and her father is reconsidering promoting her to take over his real estate business, which is how it is that she’s in this tiny little Idaho town. But Freya will prove to her father that she has what it takes to succeed, and no camp site-owning hot guy inexplicably unwilling to sell, even at the weirdly over-market price her father’s oddly prepared to pay, will stand in her way.
Chef Nate Brody is an honourable man – he stood by his girlfriend when she got pregnant, took sole custody of their daughter when his wife took off, and he’s not about to break the deathbed promise he made to his father. Breaking promises is the kind of thing his father did, and Nate is nothing like his father. All his decisions are made with an eye to the best interests of his ten-year-old daughter, Piper, and the last thing she needs is to get attached to a substitute mother figure, however hot she might be.
Reminiscent of Crusie or Phillips, Lani’s characters live on the page. She avoids the more common romance obstacles in favour of a strong mystery plot – before he can sell up, Nate has to find a mysterious object, hidden by his father. For Nate it’s a relatively light-hearted task, though not without a degree of urgency, as his restaurant is in need of attention in his absence. There are others, though, for whom the object has greater significance, and the reader becomes aware of threats to Freya and Piper that the main characters know nothing about.
Mix that with a plotline about Piper’s mother, the pain of mother-loss she and Freya share, a magical Irish wishing coin, frustrated parent/child relationships across the board, and a tension between duty and self interest, and this is an above average novel.
It was clear from early in that With You Were Here, a title whose relevance to the plot I didn’t quite get, continues a storyline from another of Rich’s novels, which I found at the end is Crazy in Love, the story of Freya’s younger sister. Although I think reading that first would have added a layer to my experience of Wish You Were Here, this book stood on its own. I did enjoy it enough that I’ll see what else my library has by Rich, though. And there are a couple of author blurbs at the end of the book – the period romance How to Seduce a Sinner by Hoyt and the possibly Brockmann-like Too Far Gone by Marliss Melton – that also sounded interesting. – Alex
When we last left Danny Wallace he had inadvertently founded a cult, and in the process lost his long-term girlfriend, Hanne. Catching up on three years of adulthood, Danny began doing grown up things, like shopping at Ikea, and in the process discovered he quite liked staying at home. So much so that he almost never went out, creating excuses for almost every social invitation. But one evening, coming home from work on a bus, Danny fell into conversation with a teacher from Aldgate, and with three simple words this nameless stranger changed Danny's life - "say Yes more." With that, Danny overhauled his attitude and life - he vowed that, whatever the opportunity, if asked he would say "yes." After buying his mate Ian several rounds, Danny then had to add a caveat, that this only applied to people who didn't know about his new life philosophy.
Along the way he pisses off a Very Serious man at a party, acquires a nemesis who sends him off on expensive and pointless adventures, reconnects with old friends, responds to spam, and rekindles a promising Antipodean relationship.
Wallace has two gifts - first, he is inspired to enact change where most wouldn't even notice the opportunity, and fearlessly carries these plans through to the bitter end, and second he is able to discuss the process with honesty, integrity and humour. Engagingly written, The Yes Man has moments of genuine hilarity - I particularly liked the two major interactions with ex-girlfriend Hanne - and deft humorous touches throughout. The mystery of the nemesis combines with Wallace's journey, and the romance threaded through is a bonus. I do hope he comes up with another stupid boy project, because they're such fun to read about, and on the way inspire me to make (far smaller) changes in my own life. - Alex
Linguist Paul Iverson is devastated by his wife Lexy's death - her body was found beneath an apple tree in their garden, and though the death was found to be accidental, he can't let go of the inconsistencies. Lexy had never climbed the tree before, she seemed to have eaten a steak without using any utensils, and she'd rearranged one of their bookshelves. But Lexy's not around to explain what happened, and the only witness is their eight year old Rhodesian ridgeback, Lorelei. Struck by inspiration, Paul takes a sabbatical from his university and concentrates on trying to teach Lorelei to speak. There are historical cases of talking animals, and Wendell Hollis, the 'Dog Butcher of Brooklyn' was convicted by the testimony of Dog J, one of the dogs he mutilated in his pursuit of canine speech. I delayed reading The Dogs of Babel for such a long time, because I so enjoyed my Lost and Found, my first Parkhurst experience, that I was afraid of ruining the memory of I didn't enjoy this. I need not have delayed - though very different from Lost and Found, The Dogs of Babel is as absorbing and fascinating. I intended to read only a chapter or two, but found myself reading the novel in a single sitting this morning. The plot combines a love story with a mystery, as we go between the present and the history of their relationship. Lexy is a nuanced, gifted, creative and enigmatic character, portrayed through the loving but clear sighted eyes of her loving husband. He reveals less of himself, primarily in contrast to her, but his voice is all the more powerful for that. And while the plot is gripping, it's the complexity and psychological makeup of the protagonists that drew me in and kept me spell-bound.Parkhurst has a gift for creating psychological profiles effortlessly - as Paul catalogues the order of the rearranged bookshelf, noting which books belonged to whom, layers of additional insight paint the reader's picture of them both.* Paul deconstructs names to uncover the words contained within them:Break open Lexy Ransome and you find omen and sexy and soar. Lost and rose. Yearn and near and anymore. See how it works? It doesn't bear thinking about. It couldn't be any clearer. Only one letter away from remorse, and one letter away from answer.
This is a powerful tale of loss, grief, forgiveness, truth, understanding, fear, compassion and above all love, with a touch of horror and an intermittent sprinkling of talking dog books. Masks, dreams and art recur, and I know that re-reading this book, after a little space, will give me even more to think about. - Alex* And for the wanton bibliophile, create a reading list on their own. How have I managed without reading Mary Had a Little Lamb: Language Acquisition in Childhood; I'd Rather Be Parsing: The Linguistics of Bumper Stickers, Buttons and T-Shirt Slogans; or The Toad Not Taken: The Linguistic Value of Puns?
As the Germans invade Paris, British spy Charles Henderson, along with French orphan Marc Kilgour and English siblings Paul and Rosie Clarke, must make a difficult decision - flee to the relative safety of Spain and from there return to London, or infiltrate a Nazi boat yard in the hopes of uncovering and possibly sabotaging the invaders plans to defeat Britain.I ended my review of The Escape, Muchamore's first part of this series, itself a prequel to the best-selling CHERUBs series, noting that I hoped the whole Henderson Boys series wouldn't be a chain of cliff-hangers. Though less the case here than in the Escape, this series is clearly destined to be less stand alone that the contemporary one. I suppose, given the work the series needs to do in forming a platform for the later, established organisation, this is inevitable and I have resigned myself to it.This resignation is made easier by the compensations of strong characterisation, vibrant writing, a perfect encompassing of time and place blended with an immediacy born of its historical setting, and a brisk plot.Muchamore infuses the novel with historical accuracy, footnoting translations for German and French terms rather than substituting their English equivalents, and interspersing sections with a brief update of the bigger picture of the war. The facts are succinct and digestible, and I imagine would be well assimilate by young readers rather than being seen as boring pedagogy.I do enjoy the original series better, and am quite excited by the prospect of another CHERUB installment in my To Read pile, but making my way through Eagle Day was no hardship and I'll certainly continue on for the time being. - Alex
Artist Alexander Kinoch has always been the odd one in his family - spurning London and convention, he lives in a remote bothy off the beaten path in Scotland. Arriving home one evening he is set upon by four men who pause the beating only to ask, over and over, "where is it?" Alexander has no idea what "it" is and has no response. Thrown over the side of the mountain and left for dead, when he crawls back home he discovers destruction - everything's been overturned or ruined. But his artistic talents allow him to recognisable sketch his assailants.Called to London to comfort his stricken mother - her husband, head of one of Britain's leading breweries, has had a heart attack in the wake of discovering that the company is on the verge of collapse due to the financial director's embezzlement of millions of pounds. Ivan gives Alexander power of attorney, to the utter fury of Patsy, Ivan's daughter, who has always suspected Alexander of trying to finagle his way into her inheritance.Less horsey than Francis' usual work, To the Hilt is just as pacy, engrossing and character and plot driven as the rest of his work. The hilt the title refers to is an immensely valuable sword given to one of Alexander's predecessors by Bonnie Prince Charlie; Scottish history and culture are woven throughout the narrative, with the bagpipes Alexander's chosen method of emotional expression, and golf not only a favourite pastime but also Alexander's more recurring painting theme.In addition there's missing treasure, skulduggery, an ex-wife, a hidden racehorse (not completely removed from Francis' more oft used setting), and a cast of convincing characters including the thoroughly likable firm of Young and Utterly, who I'd love to see recur in another book. This was a magnificently enjoyable action novel that beautifully balances character development with action. - Alex
Derek Cutter is excited at the prospect of his neighbours, the Langleys, going on holiday - their empty house will be the perfect trysting spot for him and his girlfriend, provided he can hide in the house before they leave. Not even his friend Adam knows that he plans to hide in the basement storage cupboard, and though he feels a little guilty at deceiving his friend it's easily outweighed by the prospect of space and time to just be with Penny. But after a seamless start, successfully pretending to leave Adam and his parents to their packing but really squeezing into the crawl space, everything falls apart. First Penny's grounded, then the Langleys come home because Mrs Langley has a stomach upset. And then the entire family is murdered.Jim Cutter lives with his wife and adolescent son down a laneway that you could easily miss if you didn't know it was there. He mows lawns for a living, and despite the derision his work inspires in some, he enjoys it. His wife is an academic, her boss (and former lover) a literary success on the back of his first - and, to date, only - novel, and Jim still resents his rival even though Ellen swears it was a mistake and all over. Jim's heartsick when he learns about the deaths of his neighbour, a criminal defense lawyer, his wife and son. Promise Falls isn't the kind of place you expect such tragedies. When no direct motive can be found Jim has to ask himself how well he really knew the family. But how well does he really know his own family? And what if the Langley's weren't the real targets? The writing is brisk, the plot interestingly but not confusingly twisty. The Derek section is a third-person prologue, contrasting with the first person narration of the rest of the novel, allowing the reader to have knowledge Jim only discovers part way through the chain of events and adding a layer of interest.I had some trouble with Jim's unwillingness to resolve his issues over his wife's affair - he forgives her but can't let go of his resentment and dislike, which is understandable but continually interferes with anyone's willingness to take his suspicions seriously. A statement I know is vague, but more specificity would spoil the plot.However, my biggest issue is that the heart of the novel is a secret left concealed because of fear that its revelation would be compromising, even though it's obvious people will be hurt. This was only a minor quibble, but it did grate a little. However, over all Too Close to Home is an intriguing premise well executed. - Alex
After months recovering from glandular fever, Indigo Casson is about to return to school and he's dreading it - when he left a gang, lead by a red-headed boy of spiteful nastiness, had tormented him, and the time away from school has just made him ganglier than ever. Youngest sister Rose is the only one to have noticed anything's wrong, and though she's eager to protect him if she can, she has her own worries - glasses, which have made the world distressingly sharp and focused. But on his first day back Indigo discovers there's an American student in class, and Tom makes a difference to all their lives.The second in a delightful series, Indigo's Star continues the story of the Casson family. As in its predecessor (below), McKay manages to seamlessly weave into the narrative serious topics without turning the accounts into lessons - bullying and pack mentality, separation and divorce, remarriage and new siblings, jealousy and resentment and alienation, the painfulness of growth, and love of many kinds. Unconditional love is a constant that threads through the series, and is most prominent in this instalment - it may not always be felt but it's always there. In many books for younger readers adults in general and parents in particular exist as somewhat stock figures, rather than being layered and characterised in their own right. In McKay's writing they are seen through the eyes of the child protagonists but are layered and textured, and though not free from fault are lovingly present (even Bill, the Casson's geographical and ideologically distant Daddy). As Tom's grandmother points out, "there are all sorts of families" and McKay demonstrates that what binds us together more than blood is love. - Alex
Saffy Casson was eight when she discovered that her name was not on the colour chart that hung in her family kitchen. Oldest sister Caddy was there - as cadmiums lemon, deep yellow, scarlet and gold, younger brother Indigo was there amongst the blue and purple section, and baby Permanent Rose (who had come very close to being not at all permanent) was there, but no Saffron, however hard Saffy looked among the yellows. When, frustrated, she asked why, the annoying Health Visitor who was checking on Rose, and who continually compared her genius twin daughters unfavourably to the Casson children, asked their mother "Doesn't she know?" Which is how Saffy found out that her mother was really her aunt, her siblings her cousins, and her own mother was dead.The first in a quintet, Saffy's Angel is a delightful, touching and comic story about a truly unique family. Though Saffy's its' focus, we learn as much about the other members - beautiful but unfocused Caddy, half in love with her driving instructor, only male Indigo, ferociously defensive of his pack, determined Rose, the most artistic of the lot, their vague and artistic mother, challenged by shopping and not very interested in anything but her children and her art, and their Serious Artist father, who lives in London and visits when he has to. But most of all we learn about Saffy, who since her discovery has felt wholly an outsider, and who needs to find proof that she is loved and belongs.McKay writes with immediacy. Her characters are beautifully crafted, engaging and amusing and emotionally resonant. This series is probably less accessible to young male readers but is a great choice for young female readers; I've recommended it to several godparents, grandparents and friends. - Alex
Aussie ex-pat Emma Donahue loves teaching the small students who attend Miss Kwok's Hong Kong kindergarten, but Simone Chen holds a special place in her heart. Her businessman father has filled all Emma's private teaching periods, and when an argument with Miss Kwok results in Emma resigning she's grateful but unsurprised when he offers her a full-time nanny position. Emma is attracted to John Chen, although he's older than her and a widower. But she senses something unusual about his household - the sheer wealth, American bodyguard and strange visitors are not strange for Hong Kong but Emma senses something else.John Chen is a Shen, a god-like immortal being. Known as Xuan Wu,the Black Turtle, he "is Emperor of the Northern Heavens, ruler of a quarter of the sky; he also owns a complete Mountain in Heaven, on the Celestial Plane." Somewhere along the line he has lost part of himself, the Serpent, but is still a powerful and great Shen. But when he married Michelle, Simone's American mother, he promised he would not take True Form. Though she was killed by demons, Xuan Hu has kept his promise but without returning to the Celestial Plane he grown ever-weaker and his enemies, spurred on by the demon king's vow to promote whoever kills him, are intent on his destruction. Chief among them are the king's son, Simon Wong - wily, powerful and determined, he launches a series of attacks of an unprecedented ferocity and has his eye on using Simone, Emma and John's household to get to the Shen.One of the richest, most textured novels I've read in a long time, White Tiger is a romance, an adventure, the opening of a paranormal series, and an exploration of Chinese culture, religion and mythology. The writing is exquisite, the dialogue rings true, the characters leap off the page, the action is vivid and the plot is engaging. One of the aspects of White Tiger (one of the other four Shen) that I particularly liked was the twist on that hoary staple of paranormal romances, most notable in the Twilight series - John and Emma can't consummate their relationship because his diminishing energy means that, without barriers between them, he would be helplessly unable to avoid draining her energy. The only solution is for him to return to True Form and depart Earth for the Celestial Plane and return to his full power - a move that would mean an absence of anywhere between ten and one hundred years.I am unable to convey the layers of texture and the seamless integration of Chinese culture in this novel. I can only imagine how much more satisfying this would be is the culture and religious stories White Tiger is rooted in were mine, but through her outsider heroine Chan does a brilliant job of incorporating enough detail to make these aspects accessible. As soon as I finished White Tiger I reserved the next two in the series - reviews of Red Phoenix and Blue Dragon to follow shortly. - Alex
Dennis is a killer for hire, but he's selective about who he's prepared to kill - he knows that the justice system favours the criminals, while the victims have to go on with their lives without benefit of state housing, food and higher education. Okay, so he's only done once before, shooting a bent businessman, but the principle's the same, and for the money he's prepared to kill three violent drug dealers. The first hiccup comes when he's witnessed - a hardened criminal would take her out, but Dennis can't. The second hiccup is when he's pulled over by a roadblock shortly after the girl raises the alarm - to get out of it he has to show his ID. And that brings him to the third problem, because Dennis Milne, killer for hire, is also a Detective Sargent in the British police force. The biggest problem, however, is that Dennis was manipulated - he shot and killed two decorated Customs agents and an accountant, triggering a massive investigation.Kernick's debut novel is accomplished and engrossing. Dennis is a fascinating protagonist, a bent cop with a moral code that reminded me of a UK version of The Shield's Vic Mackey, and was published the year that series debuted (but is otherwise wholly different). The first-person narrative is honest, captivating and compelling the writing is immediate and vivid, and the plot combines Dennis's back story and attempts to extricate himself from an ever-tightening web, with his investigation into the disappearance of one young prostitute and the violent murder of another.I came across The Business of Dying by chance, but after I make my way through some of the back log will be checking out his other works. - Alex
