Review – The Ayah’s Tale

I found The Ayah’s Tale, by Sujata Massey to be entirely captivating. After what has been a dry patch of slightly disappointing books, here at last was another five star read.

Buy The Ayah’s Tale from Amazon.co.uk
Buy The Ayah’s Tale from Amazon.com

The Ayah of the title actually relates two different tales. The frame is set in 1950s Malaya, where Menakshi is an adult with children of her own. Inside that we are transported to pre-independence India of the 1920s, where she is Ayah (guardian/governess) to the young children of a high ranking British family.

Part of my motivation to read this book was a desire to encounter India through fiction as well as through daily contact with team members at work. The Indian voices in the book – Menakshi herself, as an intelligent and emotionally perceptive young woman, her friend and supporter Ram, and others – were immediately familiar to me. In 1920s India these people were trapped within the constraints of a social system which denied them opportunities to reach anything like their potential. A few Indians were starting to cross the social divide in terms of wealth and access to resources, but the vast majority could not move out of the circumstances of their birth.

The British voices are diverse, blending the unthinking arrogance of some with the kindness and compassion of others. For the children Menakshi cares for in the household, there is a gradual dawning of awareness of the realities of their family life. Some passages make for very uncomfortable reading for a Brit, along with a sense of relief that the underlying attitudes of assumed superiority have been considerably eroded since those days. It is, after all, nearly a century since the experiences of Menakshi’s youth.

The tone and vocabulary of the book make this accessible to young people as well as adults. However, it would take a certain level of maturity to be interested in the story line, and sensitive to the inter-personal dynamics. For those many of us who have no personal memory of the period of British Empire, it is a useful and timely reminder of what our nation took away from other countries as well as gave to them. But the focus of the book is not really on the dark side of British rule, but rather on the Indian potential for growth, and the ability to face challenges and rise above them.

The final chapter, closing the 1950s frame, is a beautifully crafted piece which both tidies up the plot line and also leads you to rethink what has gone before. Sujata has given us a fine example of how to use this particular structural device to conclude a story. All in all, a great book which I have thoroughly enjoyed reading. In case there was any doubt… five stars from me.

Cover - The Ayah's Tale

Review – The Last Caesar

This was another selected item at the book club I go to, and in stark contrast to the previous choice (The Garden of Evening Mists – which I reviewed on January 5th this year), I found The Last Caesar to be a profound disappointment. Henry Venmore-Rowland had, I think, carried out a considerable amount of background research, but the end result was, to me at least, rather uninteresting.

Buy The Last Caesar from Amazon.co.uk
Buy The Last Caesar from Amazon.com

Most of the book could easily have been presented as a wiki entry or series of blog posts rather than a historical novel, and there were very few places where I had a sense of a unique insight into the past. The writing is solid and uninspiring rather than delightful or poetic. Conceivably this reflects The Roman Way of Life, but I have read other books set in the classical period which have managed to portray a lighter and more delicate world.

This story is set in a turbulent year, when the family line of Augustus Caesar spluttered to a halt with Nero. This triggered a struggle between several contenders for the imperial mantle, and the main character in this story – Aulus Caeccina Severus, apparently loosely based on a historical individual – is part of that struggle, supporting one or other faction in turn as his own ambitions and anxieties indicate. But do not be fooled by the title – the book is neither about the last emperor of Rome (which one might have thought), nor Nero himself (who technically was the last member of the Caesar family). Severus appears to be at best a marginal figure in the imperial struggle and spends the whole book in the provinces and nowhere near the heart of the action in Rome. The front cover image has essentially nothing to do with the story but has the appearance of a boilerplate Roman image from a photo stock agency.

To my eyes the fictional Severus is a rather improbable figure, who succeeds in regularly rising above a whole series of problems and challenges without too much difficulty. This causes a mixture of admiration and envy in other people, but incredibly the surrounding characters who might have most reason to distrust or turn on him inevitably accept his unlikely explanations and receive him back into their collective fold. His chief flaw is a rather unwavering trust in his superiors (until they betray him), which leaves him vulnerable to their machinations.

That book is totally dominated by male characters. The few women who appear are either buxom, conveniently available tavern wenches of uneasy virtue, or else extraordinarily beautiful wives, typically with slightly sinister ambitions. The overall effect is to give the impression of a laddish game being played out without feminine counter-balance, and without any real concern for the human impact following on from the rough and tumble. Again, this might possibly be a fair reflection of the Roman world, but it left me cold.

The Last Caesar also stops quite abruptly, and you discover a page or two from the end that actually you only have half a book in your hands. The story continues in another volume (The Sword and the Throne), but I have not been wooed into acquiring it and will cheerfully let the story remain unfinished.

Readers who like Roman history might possibly get more out of this than I did. Or maybe readers who like books which don’t involve women to any real degree. If you like subtle books with a good balance of the sexes, or writing of flair and beauty, it would be well worth looking elsewhere. For me, it just didn’t work as a book. I am, however, prepared to give it three stars despite all this, because it was well researched, well produced and friends who know the period assure me there are no glaring historical errors.

The Last Caesar front cover

Men and women in Late Bronze religion

This post is another in my occasional series looking at aspects of second millennium BCE religion in the Levant – Canaanite religion, if you like. I am going to start with what we can infer from particular kinds of archaeological remains, and then move on to text afterwards.

University of Pennsylvania Museum figurine
Interpreting the significance of archaeological finds is not always easy. A few decades ago there was a tendency for items of obscure purpose to be simply classified as “cult objects” with an assumed religious function… after all, if you didn’t understand what it was for then it must be religion! The best-known case of this is, perhaps, the considerable number of nude female figurines that have been found throughout the area. Perhaps because of presuppositions about Canaanite religion, it was assumed that these were goddess figures used in some interesting way in worship. Since those days a whole variety of other explanations have been proposed, including fertility objects given as part of a marriage ceremony, goodwill offerings during pregnancy, and even educational devices for teaching the young. We just don’t know for sure, and simple single explanations are improbable. The picture is of an item from c.1400 BCE, now in the collection of the University of Pennsylvania Museum and originally found at Beth She’an.

If we look at the designs carved into personal authentication seals we find an interesting story. There were several common forms of these – some based loosely on Egyptian scarabs, others on oval amulet designs, and others of cylindrical form. The first two have a design typically on the flat surface, the last one around the outside curve to be rolled onto clay. This last kind, having more surface area to play with, usually has more elaborate and detailed designs worked around the circuit. They are also a common pattern from the Mediterranean across to Mesopotamia, whereas the others were more localised. At this early time, almost all are pictorial, with little or no textual content.

Now through the Late Bronze Age (so roughly from 1550 to 1200 BCE in this area) we find certain recurring patterns. Male and female figures, whether men and women, male and female priests, or gods and goddesses all appear in roughly equal numbers. The Canaanite tales that have become popularised tend to favour the interactions of gods such as El, Ba’al, Mot, Kothar etc. Goddesses such as Anat, Athirat etc appear to take a secondary role in these accounts. But the material evidence we have suggests a more even-handed balance between the sexes, and even in the tales a careful read finds women or goddesses playing key roles. Two of the longer tales (Keret and Aqhat) present women (Hurriy and Dantiy) holding a central position alongside the male figures that we name the stories after. The secondary details surrounding these stories are full of feminine figures including groups of midwives or goddesses, such as the Kotharat, a collective name for a group of “skilful goddesses’.

As we move into the Iron Age (from 1200 until the time of Alexander the Great, but here I am only really concerned with the first few centuries) then this changes. Firstly, representations of female figures diminish quite dramatically in comparison to their male counterparts. Secondly, female figures are more likely to be represented by some abstract symbol such as a star or tree, rather than a human shape. In earlier designs these symbols typically appeared beside the figure, but as time went on the symbol displaced the person. Something happened to the way women were portrayed – and quite probably the roles they played in society – over the transition from Late Bronze to Iron.

What about the text of the Hebrew Bible? There are huge and ongoing debates as to when the various parts of this were first committed to writing, and subsequently collated into a unified text. On the surface, the historical narrative from Exodus to the end of Kings and Chronicles claims to derive from a wide span of time, including both second and first millennia BCE. There are very good reasons for thinking that the text was assembled into a coherent story somewhere in the first half of the 1st millennium. However, there are also very good reasons from analysis of both prose and poetry to think that some parts go back into the second millennium. If so, can we see any trace of the earlier higher profile of women?

The short answer is ‘yes’. The opening chapters of Exodus have a much higher concentration of women actively participating in events than any other part of the Hebrew Bible – there are the midwives who covertly spare baby boys’ lives from execution. Their prominence is comparable to that of female human and divine figures associated with birth in Ugarit. Beside them, we find Miriam and other significant women in Moses’ birth family, the pharaoh’s daughter who raised him, and so on. The images associated with the departure from Egypt deliberately ascribe giving birth and breast-feeding to God, presenting a distinctively feminine aspect to a figure often perceived as male.

The book where the decline of women’s fortunes is presented most starkly is Judges. Within a few chapters (covering at minimum a couple of hundred years) their position declines from an initial ability to inherit land and lead tribes in a prophetic role, down to widespread subordination and exposure to rape, humiliation and death. In terms of historical periods, Judges spans the time from the end of the Late Bronze age through Iron I – exactly the time when images on material artefacts undergo a radical change. Does this reflect increasing situations of personal danger and social anarchy? Or substantial revisions in the framework and basic assumptions of society itself?

In terms of my own writing, In a Milk and Honeyed Land and Scenes from a Life are both set at the tail end of the Late Bronze. They present societies where women have defined and important social roles, and in Kephrath and her three sister towns, inheritance passes through the female line. Households are defined in terms of the mother of the house rather than the father. This reflects what we know of the Late Bronze Age from artefact and text. If I continue writing forwards in time then at some point this happy state has to decline… by the turn of the millennium, so far as we can tell, women in the Levant were routinely in a subservient and threatened position. But there are a lot of books between 1200 and 1000…

Review – Timepiece

Timepiece, by Heather Albano, was an experiment for me into a sort of steampunk plus time travel experience. A little to my surprise, it was set overtly in a very recognisable version of our own world, beginning on the day of the Battle of Waterloo. As the story progressed it became clear that other fictional elements had been woven into the plot, most notably from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. I suppose that I had expected something set in an invented world, or at least one in which the divergence from our own history had happened sufficiently early that there were many more differences.

Buy Timepiece from Amazon.co.uk
Buy Timepiece from Amazon.com

As it was, I did not find the basic premise compelling. It seemed altogether too easy for Heather to inventively write her way out of problems, and I felt that difficulties raised early on were side-stepped later. Certain constraints in the time travel part were set up, but did not seem to be followed through consistently if the plot seemed to require otherwise (for example, being in two places at once at the same time, or whether or not it was possible to revisit a time already accessed). On the one hand, the world was too much like ours, but on the other, there were too many added ingredients to know where things stood.

Like several other books I have read recently, it is just the first part of a story, and it finishes rather abruptly, almost in mid-narrative. To some extent this incompleteness is signaled by clues dropped quite skilfully into the storyline. Certain relationships are suggested but then left unresolved. As reader, you begin to suspect that these clues are building into a pattern, but the characters remain ignorant of this. Perhaps they will become aware of the pattern in the next volume, which I am guessing is going to see the main characters try and resolve the problem that they were left in at the end of Timepiece – it’s something of a ‘three wishes’ plot where at each stage the central couple have to try to sort out the problems that were created last time. At any rate, this device of simply halting the story mid-flow did not endear me to the book, and has not left me eager to pick up the next one: instead I felt frustrated that it was left incomplete.

The book necessarily handles some science / technology plot components as it goes along, and I had mixed feelings about these. Some felt about right for the early to mid 19th century, but others felt out of place. But then, if you’re writing about a parallel universe maybe it’s fair game to just swap things around? I wasn’t sure, and I think on balance I prefer dealing with the actual history of our own world, and the problems faced by people in it. From conversations with others I am aware of how hard it is to create a convincing imaginary world. In the world of Timepiece, I was never sure that I actually knew what the rules and boundaries were, and they seemed rather fluid as things moved along.

One of Heather’s main interests is clearly to explore how people from one era might cope with a culture reasonably close to their own – in this case about 70 years. That is an interesting endeavour – it’s almost within the protagonists’ lifetimes, but with enough changes (quite apart from the time travel stuff) to make for some unexpected dissonance as well as reassuring familiarity. This worked well for a while, but it seemed that having gone into changes of costume, and some aspects of the role of women, Heather dropped back into differences more to do with social rank than cultural development. I would have enjoyed something further along the original lines.

Technically this is yet another book where kindle features have not been properly coded. The the hardware navigation works, and there is an HTML TOC, but this has not been fully integrated and you cannot ‘goto’ table of contents. However, the content of the book has been carefully proof-read and is nicely laid out.

Timepiece is undoubtedly imaginative, but for me it slightly failed to reach a target, resulting in my four star rating. I do prefer books about the real past of this world, but am quite happy to delve into imaginary or parallel places… so long as the ground-rules are clearly set out and maintained. Alternate history books are a fascinating look into unrealised possibilities, but I did not find this one very compelling. Having said that, I am sure that readers who click more with steampunk than I do will have a great time with Heather’s book, and appreciate its particular flavour more than I did. Worth a look, if this is a genre you enjoy.

Timepiece front cover

Review – The Girl in the Photo

I had very mixed feelings about The Girl in the Photo, by Wally Wood. In the end I think four stars is about right – for all my many misgivings I did want to find out how things ended, and the changes of scene and character development moved things along at a reasonable pace.

Buy The Girl in the Photo from Amazon.co.uk
Buy The Girl in the Photo from Amazon.com

I had originally expected there to be a greater proportion of the story set in the past, but in fact the vast majority is contemporary, with just a few chapters relating events during the Korean War. Some people might well enjoy this mix, but I realised yet again that books set in today’s world don’t really grip me. There were quite a lot of casual references to American culture which for me were obscure and unexplained.

The story itself seems very derivative – without giving too much away, the plot seems far too much like The Bridges of Madison County, with a heavy dollop of Madame Butterfly. In part my quick reading through to the end was to see if the ending matched either of those sources. But repeatedly through the book I felt that there was too much similarity to other material.

The plot dwells a great deal on sibling dynamics, as well as wider family interactions revolving around the central brother-sister pair. Most of these carry conviction, and the central characters have a good blend of likeable and dislikable traits. Unexpected windows are sometimes opened into one or other person’s behaviour and attitudes. The story perspective switches quite often between several voices. That works quite well. I was not wholly persuaded, though, by the Japanese portion towards the end. It was clear that Wally had considered a range of possible options, but the final choice seemed to me to be rather rushed, skating rapidly over what was potentially the most complex and difficult encounter.

Technically as a kindle book The Girl in the Photo was very disappointing. It had obviously been prepared as a print edition and then just copied over. A fair number of words were force-hyphenated in the middle of words where this was not necessary, presumably because line breaks happened there in print. There are chapters but there is no kindle TOC, and the standard navigation controls do not work. Given how easy it is to prepare kindle books these days, the omission is striking, and makes it almost impossible to flick back to (say) one of the chapters set in the Korean War to check something out.

So all in all four stars so far as I was concerned. Readers of contemporary fiction set in the US, with brief forays into Japan, will probably like this. The historical elements are only a small part of the whole, and are more in the way of scene setting rather than actively developed.

The Girl in the Photo front cover

Review – Mistress Angel

Mistress Angel, by Lindsay Townsend, was one of those “if you liked this then you might like that” recommendations for me. In fact I didn’t really enjoy this book, mainly I think because I am too serious a reader of historical fiction to warm to its approach. Readers should be aware that this is essentially a light romance, which happens to be set in the past. Take it on that level, and if you like romances then this might be for you. But if you are wanting to immerse yourself in a past era, full of details and people unique to that time, perhaps another book would be better.

Buy Mistress Angel from Amazon.co.uk
Buy Mistress Angel from Amazon.com

The story itself is straightforward. A young widowed mother is exploited by her guardians, and is rescued by a coincidentally widowed eligible young man. Characters are pretty much black and white, and change little during the plot. The historical elements come in predominantly through the social setting – guilds, horses, blacksmiths, processions and the like. The couple themselves are of high enough rank that they can challenge the system successfully, but not so high that their actions are in any real way constrained by social convention. The consummation is obvious from the first time they meet, and the only complexity is how the male half is going to be able to sort out the potentially destructive legal backlash. However, he happens to have plenty of money, good friends, and considerable knowledge of a bunch of disparate but pertinent facts.

One of my biggest complaints is about the length of the book. The kindle progress bar makes it look as though the story is of a typical length. However, it stops at 62%, and Lindsay has filled the rest up with short extracts from no less than six other books. Regardless of my feelings about Mistress Angel, I felt slightly cheated by this. On the other hand, the book is very economically priced.

For me, three stars. It lacked most of the things I enjoy in a book, and the snippets from quite different stories could not make up for the abrupt end to a very short book. Worth checking out if you like short romances with a thin layer of historical setting.

Reading challenges for 2014

I have signed up for two reading challenges for this year – sort-of a more interesting form of New Year’s Resolution, I suppose, although I do not imagine that it will be especially hard for me to keep reading books!

'Scenes from a Life' cover image

But before that, some news about Scenes from a Life. Kindle copies are starting to sell nicely now, and – at least for those regions where this applies – I have enrolled the book in Amazon’s Matchbook programme. This means that anyone who buys the soft-cover print copy of the book can, for a mere $0.99, get the kindle copy as well. Fantastic… but not yet globally available.

I have also started drafting out the next novel in the series… more news when my ideas about that are a little bit more settled.

So, Reading Challenges. I decided to sign up for two – one specifically on historical fiction, and a more general one. The trend today seems to be that you pick cool names for different levels of the challenge, which is fine by me. So the two are:

  1. Historical Tapestry 2014 Historical Fiction Reading Challenge – I went for the Ancient History (25 books) level, as opposed to Medieval (15 books) or Prehistoric (50+ books)
  2. The Mad Reviewer Reading and Reviewing Challenge 2014 – I went for the Slightly Sane Reviewer (26 books) level, as opposed to Sane (12 books) or Crazy (52 books). There’s even a Mad Reviewer level calling for 104 books in one year. Phew.

Of course, some books can neatly be caught in both challenges 🙂 which should help. To date I have read and reviewed 1 book this year (other reviews in 2014 were for books read last year), plus have one that is read and awaiting review, and one that is in progress.

Historical Tapestry Reading Challenge badge
Mad Reviewer Reading Challenge badge

Review – The Garden of Evening Mists

I was introduced to The Garden of Evening Mists, by Tan Twan Eng, at a book club I frequent. I have enjoyed a good fraction of the books we have selected there, but this was the first one I thought was beautiful. Well-researched historical fiction often ends up being thorough and workmanlike, rather than elegant or stylish: this book definitely bucks the trend.

It is clear from comments at the book club, and those of other reviewers, that many people have disliked the deliberate ambiguities of time and memory in which Eng delights. The book shifts frequently, even within a chapter, often without overt clues, between several time periods in the life of the central character. The uncertainty is strengthened since she is also struggling with progressive memory loss as she ages, and has an understandable and deep-rooted desire to keep certain episodes concealed. Themes of both ordinary and wilful forgetfulness thread through the book, and the author plays his own part in this by refusing to give some issues the prominence which in inter-personal or plot terms they probably deserve. This book invites the reader to engage carefully and deeply.

Superficially the book is about the garden of the title, but both the garden itself and the act of designing it are used as metaphors of personal and social transformation. The garden, the gardener, the novice herself, and the various other people living nearby, all hide important issues within a facade of surface detail. The Second World War and its aftermath was experienced very differently in south east Asia as compared with Europe, and the tensions and traumas of those years have left indelible marks on the people and the land. They emerge in the lives of the characters of this book.

For me The Garden of Evening Mists was without doubt a five star book, and one which has continued to exercise both my imagination and family conversations for many weeks. However, it is clear that it will not appeal to all comers. If you are looking for an action book, or one in which the story flow is clearly signaled and unambiguous, you will not find it here. However, if you like exploring the psyche after it has survived trauma, and do not mind coping with the indeterminacies of memory leading you to and fro in time, this could be a great discovery.

Cover image - The Garden of Evening Mists

Reviews – Phantastes and Lilith

I was reminded of George MacDonald’s writing by a friend on Google+, and he has been a great find. I already knew that CS Lewis acknowledged him as a major inspiration, but had not expected to find out just how large an influence he has been on modern fantasy as an entire genre.

I devoured two of his works in rapid succession – Phantastes and Lilith – and found them to have substantial differences as well as similarities. In both cases, MacDonald felt the need to devise a means for his protagonist to make the transition from the world we live in, into the particular fantasy world of the title in question. This is definitely a feature of the era, also seen in some equally inventive traveller’s tales stories of the 19th century which never aspire to magic or the land of Faerie. Many modern authors would probably begin his or her story directly in the other realm, but Lewis used various devices such as the well-known Wardrobe, or the ‘Wood between the Worlds’ to this end. For MacDonald and his contemporaries, the transition, and the relationship between the worlds, was an important ingredient.

Some of MacDonald’s ideas have become so commonplace that some readers may think there is little originality in the books. Tolkien’s ents are here, along with Lewis’s courtly culture and virtues, and just about everyone’s goblins and elves. In common with a great many other writers, the societies are basically medieval in outlook. People ride horses, fight with bladed weapons, and communicate face to face. Limited magical abilities are present, but not as learned talents for just anyone – they are an innate faculty of some beings and inaccessible to others.

Of the two books, Lilith is much more overtly concerned with Christian themes, building on the tradition that the woman of that name was Adam’s first wife. Some familiarity with Christian elaboration of this idea helps, but is not essential, since the tradition MacDonald is using comes from outside the written text of the Bible. His profound commitment to principles of eternal hope and redemption drives the conflicts and resolutions of the book’s characters. Themes of life and death fill the book, together with the Christian duty to lay aside the everyday life in order to put on a new kind of life. It is a duty which comes no more easily to the book’s main character than to any of the rest of us.

Phantastes, subtitled ‘A Faerie Romance for Men and Women‘, is, perhaps, a more conventional fantasy tale. It describes a quest and trial of passage in which the central character has to identify and master his shadow side – just as Ged has to in Ursula LeGuin’s EarthSea books. There are mysterious beings, often women, locked inside wood or stone and waiting to be released by the right individual. There are warnings about particular actions or pathways, most of which are ignored by the protagonist who has a rather exaggerated sense not only of his own safety, but also the ability of the wider world to survive his rash deeds unscathed. The theme reaches back to Greek mythology (if not earlier), and forward to our own ecological travails. And finally there is the necessary noble deed which cannot be accomplished except through the gates of death.

The books, especially Phantastes, will not just appeal to fantasy fans, but are also of interest to students of psychology. Some passages anticipate the later formal development of psychotherapeutic understanding. Students of the life and work of, say, Freud and Jung will already know just how much of their thinking rested on earlier foundations laid by artists, philosophers, and authors. Here in 1858 we already have MacDonald writing about the “forgotten life, which lies behind the consciousness”, and the mutual dependence of external objects with the “hidden things of a man’s soul”.

Having said all that, some people will, no doubt, be impatient with these works. For me they were definitely both five star books, not least because many of my favourite authors have so obviously been influenced by them. They have survived over 150 years of literary development remarkably well, but inevitably use some constructions and habits of thought which will seem dated to the modern reader. If you are keen on exploring one of the foundational authors of modern fantasy, and willing to work with the conventions of the 19th century, these books are for you.

Cover image - Phantastes
Cover image - LIlith

Sons of the Wolf – a review

Sons of the Wolf, by Paula Lofting, is one of several books which have come out over the last few years exploring the period shortly before or shortly after the Norman Conquest of 1066. Paula has chosen the earlier time, and so the modern reader is aware of the encroaching invasion from the time markings which annotate each chapter. The protagonists are of course ignorant of this, though they are aware of the rising tensions in society at large. Readers should also be aware that Sons of the Wolf is only the first half of the full story which Paula has in mind, so the ending comes rather abruptly, with many plot threads still unresolved.

The book oozes with details collected from very extensive research into the period. As reader, I was left with a sense of thorough immersion in the age and the culture. Unfortunately, this also left me with a sense that I did not like either the culture or the age! To my own astonishment, knowing a little about the cruelty and harshness of the invading Normans in parts of the country (particularly the north), I found myself wanting to get to 1066 so that William and his army could sweep the lot away. I found none of the Saxon characters to be likeable. Whilst I am all in favour of characters being portrayed with flaws, I found myself unable to sympathise or empathise with any of these ones. I hope, and suspect, that Saxon men and women had more to commend them than this, even recognising the fact that the virtues Saxon society held in highest regard are very different from those of today, or indeed those of the ancient world which is my own favourite era.

The subject matter of the book switches between the family difficulties of a moderately important Saxon family head in Sussex, and the bigger political and military events of the early 11th century. Although the central character would say that family was important to him, his actions frequently undermine the possibility of a close-knit harmonious group. On the wider national stage, just as on the personal one, betrayal and rivalry often lead to unexpected difficulties or defeats. I imagine that most issues in both of these arenas are resolved in the second half of the story.

For me, this was a four star book. Paula’s research and attention to detail is beyond doubt, and the book was carefully and attractively presented. The plotline worked well, though as mentioned above some issues are raised and never resolved within these pages. The characters who are the main focus are drawn convincingly, and interact in what seem to me to be credible ways for their relative station and gender. However, I could not feel warm to any of them, and the writing style did not evoke for me anything appealing or beautiful about the age. I think other readers who do feel more at home in pre-Norman England might well enjoy the book more than I, and I would certainly recommend Sons of the Wolf as a thorough exploration of middle-rank Saxon culture on the threshold of the Norman invasion.

Cover - Sons of the Wolf

Writing, both historical and speculative