Category Archives: Review

A review on The Review Group, and looking ahead to July 4th

An American theme for today’s blog! July 4th is coming up which, while largely unnoticed over here, will be the cause of all kinds of celebrations over there. So I am joining in the vicarious fun with an American theme.

Arizona terrain
Arizona terrain

First, my review on The Review Group for a western called Chasm Creek has just gone live. I hadn’t read a western for many years – possibly not since school days, which surely has to count as many years – so found myself unexpectedly delighted by this book. The depiction of the natural world of Arizona completely sucked me in, along with the storyline. Check out the review on the Review Group (or Facebook) and add a comment if you want to go in for a free prize draw copy of the book.

Suzanne Adair
Suzanne Adair

Also, the next in my series of author interviews will go live on 4th – on this occasion I am inviting Suzanne Adair to tell us about herself. Suzanne (who of course is American) writes about the US War of Independence and I reviewed a couple of her books not so long ago – Hostage to Heritage and Camp Follower.

Here is Suzanne’s bio to whet your appetite:

Award-winning novelist Suzanne Adair is a Florida native who lives in a two hundred-year-old city at the edge of the North Carolina Piedmont named for an English explorer who was beheaded. Her suspense and thrillers transport readers to the Southern theater of the Revolutionary War, where she brings historic towns, battles, and people to life. She fuels her creativity with Revolutionary War reenacting and visits to historic sites. When she’s not writing, she enjoys cooking, dancing, hiking, and spending time with her family. October 2015, look for the release of her next Michael Stoddard American Revolution Thriller, Deadly Occupation.

Welcome back on the fourth…

First review of The Flame Before Us

This review appeared last night on the Breakfast With Pandora blog and also on Amazon.com.

Cover - The Flame Before Us
Cover – The Flame Before Us
Some extracts…

The time is 1200 BC, and the situation is dire for the established civilizations on the eastern edge of the Mediterranean Sea. A large group of marauders invades from the west, destroying Ugarit, the west Syrian metropolis, and threatening the Nile Delta itself, as well as Egyptian vassals in Canaan, including the cities of Gedjet (Gaza) and Shalem (Jerusalem).

These invaders are dubbed the “Sea Peoples” because of their preference for using ships as a means of transportation. Scholars have been divided as to where they come from, but Abbott settles on the hypothesis that they were Greeks. He goes one step farther as well and takes them for the Greeks who attacked and destroyed the legendary city of Troy.

So, ambitious this book is, but in characteristic fashion, Abbott focuses less on sea captains with wind whipping their hair than on what we have come to know after Iraq as “collateral damage:” the ordinary people affected by these events.

To be sure, Abbott can’t resist a scholar’s interest in the Sea Peoples’ ability to defeat conventional chariot-centered warfare. But there are actually zero eye-witness descriptions of large battles. Instead, the on-stage violence, so to speak, is always personal and jarring.

Several threads of characters, two from the sacked city of Ugarit, two from Egypt, two from Canaan, one from Greece, and one of the Ibryhim (Hebrews) form the material for Abbott’s tapestry; there are so many characters, in fact, and the historical situation is so complex, that Abbott helpfully includes extensive explanatory notes at the end of the book.

But despite their number and diversity, each set of personages is distinct and vivid in its own way, and helps to create a full picture of what life must have been like in the uncertain times at the end of the Bronze Age. A surprising tenderness in the face of brutality, loss, and displacement is the emotion that underpins the action.

The reviewer goes on to muse how his favourite character is Hekanefer, the Egyptian scribe attached to one of the Egyptian army units trying to defend the land. I must admit to very much enjoying him myself, especially the different ways he relates to different family members. I have seen several blogs recently doing “meet my character” posts, and this made me think that this would be a good plan for hear. Watch this space…

Recent activities on other sites

As readers will know, much of my time recently has been put into getting The Flame Before Us ready for publication. It is now available for Kindle pre order at Amazon.com, Amazon UK, Amazon India, and elsewhere. The softcover version is going through the last stages of production and will be available at round about the same time.

But outside that I have been involved with a range of other things. One that I was particularly pleased to take part in was a contribution to Suzanne Adair’s “Relevant History” blog. Entitled Stamped on these Lifeless Things, it was an exploration of early writing. A lot of fun to write, and judging from the comments, readers enjoyed it too. One lucky reader got a free copy of In a Milk and Honeyed Land which at the time of writing has just successfully made its way across the Atlantic.

There are a few reviews which have appeared on other sites recently –

Historical Novel Society

  • The Queen of Washington (Francis Hamit) – spies and intrigue during the American Civil War.
  • Will Poole’s Island (Tim Weed) – again in America, but this time in the early colonial days, exploring different interactions between the settlers and original inhabitants.
  • Turwan (Richard J Carroll) – over to Australia and a fact-based account of one man’s relationship with aboriginal groups.

The last two had a lot of points of similarity, setting personal cross-cultural friendship in contrast to a background of social prejudice.

The Review Group

  • Splintered Energy (Arlene Webb) – a near-future first contact science fiction book taking a different approach to the subject. This book is only the first in a series of four, so is far from complete at the end – plenty of material for enthusiasts to get their teeth into.

All of the above reviews are live at the sites indicated, and will be making their way onto Amazon and elsewhere shortly.

Other books – reviews planned but not yet written –

  • Camp Follower (Suzanne Adair) – again in the US, exploring military actions and intrigue in North and South Carolina in the War of Independence. I am slowly getting my head around the twists and turns of American history. I am part-way through Suzanne’s Hostage to Heritage at the moment, also exploring the same context from a different perspective.
  • Lincoln at Gettysburg (Garry Willis) – not a work of fiction, but rather an analysis of the rhetorical and social background to Lincoln’s speech. As a non-American I found this fascinating, particularly the place in American thought of this and other early documents, in contrast to our own British attitude to things like Magna Carta.
  • The Oblate’s Confession – monastic life in Northumbria after the synod of Whitby, tackling both personal and religious life.

Plenty of excitement there…

Review – Britannia’s Shark, by Antoine Vanner

Readers will remember that I was not going to be doing so many reviews on the blog this year. This one is an exception, since I am about to do an author interview with Antoine – it should go live over the weekend sometime.

Britannia’s Shark is the third published naval fiction book by Antoine, following the exploits of the 19th century Royal Navy captain Nicholas Dawlish. The books can each be read separately and there is adequate contextual material to fill in any gaps the reader might have.

Buy Britannia’s Shark from Amazon.co.uk
Buy Britannia’s Shark from Amazon.com

Cover image - Britannia's SharkDawlish’s career is characterised by a series of secretive operations to further British interests, well outside the publicly visible face of the Navy. He is one of the servicemen of that age who were willing to experiment with a wide range of emerging technologies, which together were rapidly transforming sea travel and sea warfare from the sailing ships of Nelson’s time to the ironclads of the First World War. Indeed, other than ship-based aircraft, all of the ingredients of modern naval warfare were well formed during Dawlish’s lifetime.

The main emerging technology of this story is the submarine. Antoine vividly captures the claustrophobic horror induced in a man who has been used to open horizons and fresh air, when faced with the constricting darkness, clutter, and polluted atmosphere encountered in this very early prototype. Only total commitment to his calling, and complete acceptance of the necessity of his actions, could overcome Dawlish’s visceral rejection of his situation. The mixed reception of the submarine as a weapon is clear – recognition of its military value alongside repugnance at connotations of cowardice and deceit.

I enjoyed this story considerably more than its predecessor. For one thing there was a much richer, and (for me at least) a much more interesting blend of politics and cultural dynamics alongside the ship and land based fighting. For another, Dawlish’s wife Florence reappears in a crucial role throughout this book, whereas she was relegated to a very minor scene in Britannia’s Reach. Florence is a fine character, and a splendid companion for Nicholas, so it was very pleasing to see her courageously facing danger alongside him.

The political backdrop is also fascinating, as Dawlish is forced to deal with several different factions, all competing for influence and technological advantage. British, Irish, American and Caribbean interests intersect in the story, providing a shifting ground of ambitions and frailties on both national and personal scales. Often in the story – as so often must happen in real service life – respect and friendship cut across the lines drawn by governments.

On a technical level, the book has not been quite so thoroughly edited and proofread as previous volumes, but the typographic slips are still few and far between.

In short, a fine addition to the life story of Nicholas Dawlish, and the extra human and political dimensions explored here push this one up to 5* for me. I shall be looking forward to the next in the series as and when it appears.

Review – The Rise of Zenobia, by JD Smith

The Rise of Zenobia is set in what is now called Syria, around 300AD, when the region was a Roman province facing apparently irrevocable decline. Although many local leaders remained loyal to the emperor, far to the west, military pressure from independent tribal groups as well as the Persians was almost intolerable. In consequence the trade routes which had brought wealth to the inhabitants had largely collapsed.

Buy The Rise of Zenobia from Amazon.co.uk
Buy The Rise of Zenobia from Amazon.com

Cover - The Rise of ZenobiaThis is the rather sombre setting, with its continual sense of impending doom, that JD Smith has chosen to write about. The cast of characters is a mixed group of individuals, mostly drawn from a single extended family and their retinue, who are striving to preserve the way of life that they know. The question which dominates the book is whether Rome will be either willing or able to help, or whether the region would be better served by cutting loose altogether.

The story is told in two threads – one in the “present day”, when the protagonist Zabdas is an old man, and a series of flashbacks describing his younger life and the key events in it. Zenobia, the woman of the title, is a key figure in the earlier events but missing from the later thread, and one is led to assume she came to a bad end somehow.

This brings me to a key difficulty – the book is only the first part in a longer series (“Overlord“). A great many issues are raised and put on hold, presumably to be revisited in a later volume. Personally I find this frustrating, and I was left with a sense that the work was unfinished. The specific break-off point did not seem particularly significant, as though it had been driven more by word count than plot.

On a technical level the Kindle copy I read had been nicely prepared. A noticeable number of errors had slipped through the editorial net, but not so many nor so serious as to be a real barrier to reading.

So, mixed feelings for me about the book. The setting is interesting and unusual, the characters are quite diverse, and the story is certainly worth telling. But on the other hand the lack of completion was a negative point for me, and I can’t say that I particularly warmed to any of the individual people. Perhaps too much narrative space was devoted to campaigning for me, or else to long and frustrating journeys, to get much feel for what was being safeguarded. I’m not sure I was led to really care what happened to the people or their culture; given the very obvious echoes in contemporary Syria this is a great shame.

Four stars, on balance, and I’m still undecided if I want to buy into the rest of the series.

Review – Omphalos, by Mark Patton

Omphalos is a beautiful book. Mark kindly provided me with a pre-publication proof copy which I eagerly devoured. I have enjoyed Mark’s writing since coming across Undreamed Shores a couple of years ago (see The Bookworm’s Fancy blog as well as Amazon and Goodreads). Omphalos is a more elaborately structured book, peeling layers of history back successively from the present day back to the time of Undreamed Shores, then returning layer by layer to the present day.

Cover image - OmphalosThe closest analogy I have read is The Source, by James Michener, but Mark achieves here something which in my view is more memorable and more human. The Source tended, despite the author’s efforts, to lose the personal dimension against the grand sweeps and calamities of history. Also it progressed linearly forwards through history rather than giving the sense of diving deep, and then slowly surfacing again. Mark, while still setting his various characters in times of flux and crisis, never allows these settings to obscure personal dramas and interpersonal relationships. Sometimes the links between the layers are obvious; other times there are only little clues in the narrative to spark the connection.

Omphalos explores one of the great themes of human life – what is it that unites us with past generations, and what is it that divides us? The divisions in term of social customs and attitudes are certainly present, but common threads abound. As well as individual emotions and actions, the theme of unity is externalised into aspects of nature, and most obviously into the centrality of the ancient sacred site on Jersey around which these many worlds pivot.

An obvious consequence of the layered structure is that we spend less time with any one person and context. There is a slight frustration here: I wanted longer with each of them. But that sense of Time’s Winged Chariot hurrying near is also a theme of the book – as new generations are cut free at birth from the navel of the world, their time is all too short.

Omphalos goes on sale very soon: December 5th, to be precise, and there is an online launch on that day. I can thoroughly recommend that you find out for yourself what this book is like. Five stars so far as I am concerned, without a doubt. Hopefully, like me, you will reach the end, lean back with a sigh, and think “ah, what a beautiful book this is.

Review – The Summer Queen, by Elizabeth Chadwick

I have to confess to being disappointed by The Summer Queen, partly because it had had a big build-up from friends. This was a book club choice, and one which I struggled with: at the club discussion there was a lot of talk as to whether it fundamentally appealed to women rather than men. Some of the other club members assured me that they had very much enjoyed others of Elizabeth’s books, so perhaps this was not the best for me to start with.

Buy The Summer Queen from Amazon.co.uk
Buy The Summer Queen from Amazon.com

Cover - The Summer QueenThe Summer Queen follows the life of Eleanor of Aquitaine (Alienor here, a more accurate representation of the name) up to the point where she is about to arrive in England as the new queen of this land. She is already a highly travelled and shrewd ruler of her own territory and others, and the expectation is set in the reader that things are on the up, after some unpleasant experiences in the first part of her life.

However, I found it difficult to enjoy the book. Elizabeth’s research, from the limited quantity of material available, has been thorough, and I understand that where her reconstruction differs from others there are good reasons behind the choice. But I found the writing itself quite formulaic – I had the feeling I was reading more of a Wikipedia article, liberally laced with sex scenes to liven up the narrative.

Elizabeth provides considerable amounts of detailing, but in spite of that I had no real sense of immersion in any particular period. I found myself having to confirm from outside sources that I was actually reading about a time less than a century after the Battle of Hastings and the Norman Conquest. I think this is because of the way in which the inner life of characters is portrayed: Eleanor herself often felt like a modern individual timeslipped into an older period. I found it very hard to have any sympathetic response for Eleanor, despite the several personal tragedies she faced, mainly because the difficulties of an extraordinarily rich and powerful woman don’t have a lot of resonance with me.

Had it not been for the book club I would probably have given up on it well before the end. My initial reaction was quite negative, but a few days reflecting on it has improved this somewhat, mainly because I have come away with more knowledge of the politics of the age. However, still a three star book for me, and I don’t think that I will be looking out for the other books to follow in the trilogy. Clearly many other folk rate it higher than I do, and if you enjoy this period of history it is worth a look. I trust the judgment of my fellow book club members and would happily try another of Elizabeth’s books, in one of her several other series.

Kumarasambhavam, or, what a pity ancient Egypt and ancient India never got together

I was recommended Kumarasambhavam, “The Origin of the Young God“, by Kalidasa, by a friend who had noticed the reprint of the English translation by Hank Heifetz and alerted me to it. I have read a certain amount of modern Indian literature (in translation) so here was a chance to absorb a Sanskrit epic classic. Kalidasa is thought to have lived around 500AD, but most details of his life have long gone. His work, however, has proved to be enduring, and this is an exceptionally great poem which became part of the standard against which other works might be judged.

Buy Kumarasambhavam from Amazon.co.uk
Buy Kumarasambhavam from Amazon.com

Cover image - KumarasambhavamThe theme of the work is the courtship of Shiva and Parvati, as imagined through their personal interactions, the participation of other individuals, and the rich echoes of their emerging love in the natural world. The 8th section celebrates their sexual union after their wedding. In due course this will lead to the birth of the Young God of the title, who will liberate parts of the natural and divine world from oppression. Over the years, this final section has been sometimes been regarded as an improper subject for poetry, and has often been omitted from published versions. To me this immediately brought to mind the Song of Songs in the Hebrew Bible, which has from time to time only gained acceptance by being read as allegory rather than literal delight.

For the curious, Heifetz explains the different kinds of metrical pattern used by Kalidasa, as well as highlighting other devices used, such as alliteration. He also speaks a little about his own choices in translation – when to be literal, when to add an explanatory phrase, when to try to imitate a pattern of sound. Sanskrit poetry was based on several patterns of long and short syllables, like classical Greek and Latin metres but unlike ancient near eastern or more recent European ones. This means that direct imitation of the variety of metrical forms, and their specific associations, is not possible in English, and Heifetz explores other ways of representing the differences.

But the poem itself can be read and enjoyed without troubling with any of this, so that the reader can immerse him or herself in Parvati’s determined efforts to win Shiva over, followed by Shiva’s gentle and sensitive arousal of Parvati’s desire. One of the outstanding features of the work is the extended use of imagery from the natural world – flowers, birds, animals, mountains, and the cycle of the seasons are all invoked and drawn up into the relationships of the divine couple.

At the end of the book I found myself filled with a great regret that the ancient Egyptians never had the opportunity to interact and cross-fertilise with ancient India. The ways in which both human and natural worlds participate seamlessly and shamelessly with the universe of gods became alien to Europe, but would have found a resonance in Pharaonic Egypt. Conversely, there is a haunting sense in some Egyptian literature that Egypt never really found another deep culture to relate to. I feel that there was a loneliness there that longed for, but never fulfilled, the possibility of being united with another. Perhaps Shiva and Parvati succeeded in marriage, where Egypt and India failed even to meet. But you have to wonder what kind of young god would have been the fruit of their union.

I have to give a star rating to post this review on some sites, even though that feels bizarre for an acknowledged literary pinnacle of its culture. Five stars, of course. The book will not appeal to everybody, but deserves to be better known and more widely read by those many people who cannot do so in Sanskrit.

Review – The Mirror and the Mage, by David Frauenfelder

The Mirror and the Mage is a young adult book – not my usual fodder – but is also a historical fantasy, which is more familiar territory. The story is set in the very early days of the Roman Republic, when the Etruscans were the most significant challengers to the growth of Rome. We follow a youth, Lucius, who wants to serve his king but whose real talents are intellectual. In other cultures he would be a scribe, but his society values Mars more than Mercury. It is a familiar situation for many. Basically, he is a geek trying to survive in the middle of the gang war which was early Roman political life.

Buy The Mirror and the Mage from Amazon.co.uk
Buy The Mirror and the Mage from Amazon.com

Cover image - The Mirror and the MageLucius finds a resolution for his dilemma by becoming an apprentice to an old magician, Publius Litterarius. The basis of magic here is partly verbal – you have to get the words correct in both meaning and grammar – and partly resource-based, requiring particular crystals to become effective. Lucius goes through a sense of progressively more complex and dangerous situations as he learns his art. He also, appropriately for a YA book, grapples with personal responsibility and a growing awareness of the other sex.

The book is not just an entertaining story, but aims to be a tool for learning Latin as well. If you want to be like Lucius, you have to learn your grammar! I have to say that I wish I had been taught Latin like this many years ago – like a lot of other people I was simply exposed to lists of word patterns identified by strange names I did not at that stage know from English – accusative, dative, ablative, pluperfect and so on. Nowadays I have a better sense of what these mean, but at the time they were so much phlogiston (and much less fun). I am fairly sure that if I had had the kind of imaginative presentation used in this book, I would have learned to like languages a whole lot earlier.

So The Mirror and the Mage can be read both as a fun story of magical apprenticeship, and a creative teaching aid. Either way I would recommend it if you like YA books, or are contemplating buying one for somebody else.

Two reviews for the HNS

As many of you know, I review books for the Historical Novel Society (HNS) and part of the deal is that they appear first on the HNS web site. So here are two reviews from the last batch: they can be found online at:

The Wessex Turncoat (http://historicalnovelsociety.org/reviews/the-wessex-turncoat/)
and
Do Not Forget Me Quite (http://historicalnovelsociety.org/reviews/do-not-forget-me-quite/)

Now for the reviews themselves…

The Wessex Turncoat
Cover image - The Wessex TurncoatThe Wessex Turncoat follows apprentice blacksmith Aaron Mews, from his home near Fordingbridge, Hampshire, through forced entry into George III’s army, over to Canada. The second half of the book describes his part in the disastrous 1777 campaign against the rebellious American colonies.

The period and setting were new to me, and it was an interesting narrative choice to follow – a failed campaign rather than a victorious one. This threw the focus on Aaron himself, who comes over as a passive character, though loyal and very much a survivor. Many of the characters are stereotyped – the nice corporal, the nasty sergeant who is actually well-meaning, etc – and the main strengths are the descriptions of the age. Aaron is propelled here and there by his superiors, and by the social structures of his time, and only near the end does he start to make decisions for himself. Appropriately, his dominant experiences are of loss and difficulty.

There are several plot lines which are raised but never resolved. This probably reflects Aaron’s own inability to pursue them, but in the context of a novel they are frustrating. Similarly, the ending was left unclear, and I would have preferred to know more about the choice Aaron is making: is this perhaps when he becomes a turncoat? The later chapters are rushed in comparison to the gradual unfolding of earlier ones.

The book is well presented and proofread and reads as gentle in content – war, hardship, sex and violence are constant parts of Aaron’s life, but are described in very mild terms, which would make this suitable for younger readers as well as adults. The story will appeal to those wanting to immerse themselves in depth into lower-class, seventeenth-century rural and military life. It also delves a little into the cultural mix of the emerging United States.

Do Not Forget Me Quite
Cover image - Do Not Forget Me QuiteDo Not Forget Me Quite spans nearly twenty years of a family’s life, starting on the eve of WWI. The main focus is on the father, John, who feels morally obliged to enlist in the medical corps as hostilities commence. His wife Emma resents this, and in part the book explores the ensuing personal and family distress that follows for the couple and their children. The most evocative section is when John is invalided home before the end of the war, and John and Emma are forced to confront the consequences of their choices. Towards the end of the book Emma fades out, and their eldest daughter replaces her as a female protagonist.

Readers should be aware that the book is, and feels, very long. The focus shifts between several family members, and intersects with the life of Ivor Gurney, a significant musician and poet of the time. I found myself wondering whether it would have been more effective for Richard to split the ideas between two or more books? The apparent coincidences bridging the different scenes were not easy to follow, and did feel very contrived.

Technically the book has been well proofread and presented, with chapter and section breaks clearly signalled with year indicators where appropriate. Cream paper rather than the white used is more relaxing for the eye, however. I wondered about occasional turns of phrase which seemed too modern, but mostly Richard uses variations of dialect to suggest the home areas in England of characters.

The book will be enjoyed by readers who like exploring the land battles of WWI from the perspective of comparatively unimportant participants who have no possibility of making significant change to the setting or the system.