Rebel Queen by Michelle Moran

June 22, 20157 Comments

I love historical fiction set in India and was instantly intrigued when I saw that Michelle Moran’s new novel, Rebel Queen, was described as the story of Rani Lakshmibai who rebelled against the British by ‘raising two armies — one male, one female — and riding into battle like Joan of Arc.’ Once I started to read the book, I found that it wasn’t quite what I’d expected, although that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I have read two of Michelle Moran’s other novels and while I think my favourite of the three is still The Second Empress, I still enjoyed this one and thought it was much better than Cleopatra’s Daughter.

Rani Lakshmibai (or Lakshmi as she is called throughout this novel) rules the state of Jhansi along with her husband, Raja Gangadhar Rao, until his death in 1853. As the raja has died leaving no biological male heir, Jhansi is annexed by the British East India Company, and during the Indian Rebellion of 1857 the rani and her people find themselves caught up in the middle of the conflict. By the rani’s side are her ten Durgavasi – a small, elite group of highly-trained, highly-skilled women who serve as both guards and trusted friends. It is through the eyes of one of these women, Sita Bhosale, that the story of Jhansi unfolds.

Sita Bhosale grows up in a small village many miles from the city of Jhansi and, like the other village girls and women, she lives in purdah, secluded from the view of men outside her family. After her mother dies in childbirth, her father tells her that there will not be enough money to provide a dowry for both Sita and her little sister. With very few options open to a young woman who fails to marry well, he suggests that she begin training for a position in the Durga Dal, the rani’s personal guard. Following several years of hard work, Sita has learned all the skills she needs – she can ride a horse and knows how to use a sword, a pistol and a bow – and soon she is on her way to Jhansi to become the rani’s newest Durgavasi.

As our narrator, Sita is a character who is easy to like. I enjoyed watching her train for the Durga Dal, I was fascinated by her descriptions of her early days in Jhansi where everything – the rani and raja’s court, life in the palace, the absence of purdah – is new and strange, and I sympathised as she found herself the target of the raja’s beautiful, scheming cousin, Kahini, one of her fellow Durgavasi. But from the title, Rebel Queen, and the description of the novel, I had expected this to be the story of Rani Lakshmibai rather than the story of Sita. We don’t really get to know the rani at all until the second half of the novel and only a few chapters at the end are spent on the events of the Sepoy Rebellion (the promised ‘raising of armies and riding into battle’), which was disappointing.

The author assumes the reader has no prior knowledge of Indian culture or history, so she has Sita explain to us how the British East India Company came to be in India, the meanings of customs such as purdah and the Hindu caste system, and the basics of Ayurvedic medicine. While I already knew some of the things Sita tells us, there were still lots of facts and details that were new to me, so this was both an entertaining and an educational read. However, I was surprised to read that the British were flying ‘the red and black Union Jack’ from the buildings of Jhansi, and this made me wonder about the overall accuracy of the novel!

Despite the few problems I’ve mentioned, I did find this an interesting and compelling story. I do think it would have been good to have had at least part of the novel written from the rani’s perspective, but I still enjoyed getting to know Sita and the women of the Durga Dal.

Note: This book has been published in the UK as The Last Queen of India and I think the UK title and description are more appropriate, giving a better idea of what the story is about. However, I have referred to the US edition throughout this post, as this was the version I received for review through NetGalley.

The Tutor by Andrea Chapin

June 17, 201515 Comments

William Shakespeare is probably the most famous name in literature, yet there is still so much we don’t know about his life and his work. Despite centuries of research by academics and historians many questions remain unanswered. In particular, very little is known about Shakespeare’s activities between 1585 and 1592. In The Tutor, Andrea Chapin gives a fictional account of one of these ‘lost years’.

The novel begins in 1590 and introduces us to Katharine de L’Isle, a widow living in her uncle’s household at Lufanwal Hall in Lancashire. Katharine has no plans to marry again and is enjoying spending time with her cousins and their children and discussing poetry with her Uncle Edward. However, the family are Catholics, and with a Protestant queen on the throne of England they know that their peaceful lives could be interrupted at any moment. Their troubles begin when the family priest and schoolmaster is murdered and Edward is forced into exile, but for Katharine, as well as being a time of tragedy, this is also the start of an exciting new episode in her life.

The death of the priest leads to the arrival of a new tutor at Lufanwal – a young man from Stratford whose name is William Shakespeare. Will’s task is to teach the children Greek and Latin, but Katharine soon discovers that her own knowledge of these languages is better than his. When he confesses that what he really wants to do is write poetry, Katharine agrees to read his verses, offering advice and criticism, and in this way the poem Venus and Adonis begins to take shape. As they continue to work together, Katharine finds that she is falling in love – but does Will feel the same way?

The first thing you need to know about The Tutor is that there is no historical evidence that Shakespeare was in Lancashire during this period or that he ever knew a woman called Katharine de L’Isle. I’m not really sure how I feel about books that fictionalise a whole episode in the life of a real historical figure – I think I prefer to read novels that either deal with wholly fictitious characters placed into historical settings or that follow the life of a famous person while sticking closely to the facts – but the author does make it clear that the relationship between Katharine and Will is imaginary. The romantic aspect of the story was developed well, though I couldn’t really understand why Katharine was so attracted to Will, as I found him arrogant, manipulative and generally annoying. It’s not a very flattering portrayal at all – though having said that, I don’t think I’ve read a fictional portrayal of Shakespeare yet that I did like!

Katharine’s relationship with Will and her influence on his work is one element of this novel: the historical setting is another. I loved reading about life at Lufanwal Hall – the clothes people wore, the food they ate, the superstitions and beliefs they held, how they occupied their time – and we are also given some insights into the dangers of being a Catholic family living in Elizabethan England. Elizabeth I may have been more tolerant of religious differences than her sister and predecessor Mary I, but persecution did still occur under her reign as we see throughout this novel. I found this part of the story very interesting and I think there would have been enough material for a fascinating novel here even without the Katharine and Shakespeare storyline!

I hosted a guest post by Andrea Chapin as part of a blog tour back in April in which she talked about her research for the novel and it’s obvious that she did put a lot of thought into what Shakespeare may realistically have been doing during those lost years. I have read other novels which also explore possible theories regarding Shakespeare and the women who may have inspired his work (Dark Aemilia by Sally O’Reilly and Shakespeare’s Mistress by Karen Harper) and this book compares well with both of those, although I still wasn’t entirely convinced that the writing of Venus and Adonis could have happened exactly as described in the novel.

The Tutor is Andrea Chapin’s first novel and while there were some aspects of it that I thought worked less well than others, I still found a lot to enjoy and will be interested to see what she writes next. Meanwhile, I have added a new page to the Journey Through Time section of my blog in which you can find more suggestions for Shakespeare-inspired reading.

The Fatal Flame by Lyndsay Faye

June 12, 20158 Comments

Since reading The Gods of Gotham, Lyndsay Faye’s first novel to feature New York ‘copper star’ Timothy Wilde, I’ve been looking forward to each new book in what I’d hoped would be a long series. I was disappointed to discover that it’s actually a trilogy and The Fatal Flame is the last we’ll see of Tim and his friends – but pleased to have had the chance to read what has been a very enjoyable set of books.

Timothy’s story began in 1845 when his home in Manhattan was destroyed by fire and his brother, Valentine, helped him find work as a copper star in the newly formed New York City Police Department (the name comes from the copper stars the officers wore to identify themselves). In The Gods of Gotham you can read about the early days of Timothy’s career and how his crime-solving skills gained him a position as one of the NYPD’s first detectives, while the second book, Seven for a Secret, followed his investigations into a gang of ‘blackbirders’ (people who hunted down runaway slaves and returned them to slavery in the south). Ideally, these two books should be read before The Fatal Flame as there are some recurring characters and storylines, but it’s not essential.

In this third and final book, set in 1848, a mysterious arsonist appears to be targeting properties belonging to the unscrupulous politician and businessman Robert Symmes. The main suspect is one of his former employees at the New American Textile Manufactory, a woman with a grudge. But as Tim begins to dig deeper into Symmes’ business dealings and his treatment of his female workers, things quickly become much more complex than they seemed at first – especially when Tim’s brother, Valentine, announces that he will be running against Symmes in the next election. Meanwhile, Mercy Underhill, the fascinating, eccentric woman Timothy loves, has returned from London and it’s not long before she befriends Dunla Duffy, a young Irish girl who could hold the key to the mystery.

Most of the other characters we got to know in the previous novels are also back again in this one, including Bird Daly, Silkie Marsh, Jim Playfair and Elena Boehm. With this being the end of the trilogy, the personal story of each character is brought to a close, in one way or another – I would have hoped for a happier ending for one or two of them, but was satisfied with the way most of their stories concluded. I’ve particularly enjoyed watching the relationship between Timothy and Valentine (my favourite character) develop throughout the three books and I loved their scenes together in this book, especially towards the end.

I have mentioned in my posts on the previous two Timothy Wilde books the use of flash (the language of the criminal underworld) and how it adds to the atmosphere and authenticity of the story. Each novel includes a glossary which translates the flash terminology, although by the time you reach the third book in the series you’ll find yourself relying on it less and less (and the meaning can often be worked out from the context anyway). In this book, we see flash being used for the purpose for which it was originally intended – as a secret language to enable the speakers to hold a conversation that is unintelligible to anyone else who may be listening.

Another of the highlights of this trilogy has been seeing how Lyndsay Faye brings to life the New York City of the 19th century and tackles some of the important issues facing the people who lived there during that period. I have hinted at two of the main themes in The Fatal Flame already: political corruption and the exploitation of female employees (particularly Irish immigrants). Sometimes, though, Timothy’s attitudes towards the injustices of 19th century life make him feel slightly unconvincing as a man of his time, which is really my only criticism of the book and of the trilogy as a whole.

The language, the setting, the atmosphere and, most of all, Tim and Val Wilde – I’ve found so much to enjoy in these three novels! Now I’m wondering what Lyndsay Faye will be writing next.

Thanks to Headline for providing a copy of this book for review.

The Morning Gift by Eva Ibbotson

June 2, 201517 Comments

This is not the first Eva Ibbotson novel I’ve read – I have previously read Madensky Square and The Secret Countess, both of which I enjoyed – but I’ve been particularly looking forward to this one as so many Ibbotson readers speak so highly of it.

The novel opens in Vienna and introduces us to Ruth Berger, the twenty-year-old daughter of a professor of Zoology, whose life revolves around music, nature and her cousin Heini, the concert pianist she has always expected to marry. When the Nazis invade Austria in 1938, Ruth and her family are forced to flee but while her parents make it to safety in London, Ruth is left behind due to a problem with her student visa. A friend of her father’s, the British scientist Professor Quinton Somerville, comes to the rescue with the suggestion that Ruth marries him as a way of getting to London. Once Ruth is safely in England, the marriage can be annulled.

Of course, things don’t go exactly as planned and dissolving their marriage of convenience proves to be harder than they expected. Ruth becomes a student at Thameside University and finds herself in Quin’s class where it will be impossible for them to avoid each other as the lawyers have advised. While she and Quin struggle with the growing attraction they feel for each other, another complication arrives in the form of Heini who has made his way to England and expects Ruth to marry him as soon as possible. Will Ruth and Quin’s secret marriage be discovered?

The Morning Gift is a lovely, romantic story; it took me a while to get into it as the beginning was quite slow, but I became completely absorbed in the story somewhere in the middle and although it was really quite predictable, I still didn’t want to stop reading until I’d found out how things would end for Ruth and Quin. But there is more to this book than just the romance; among other things, it also offers insights into what life was like for a family who escaped persecution in Austria just in time and took refuge in London. This aspect of the novel is based on the author’s personal experiences – her own mother had to flee Vienna and Eva joined her at Belsize Park in London, where the Berger family live in the novel.

I also liked the academic setting and all the little scientific references that are dropped into the story as Ruth studies for her Zoology degree. I particularly enjoyed the descriptions of the field course at Bowmont, Quin’s estate in Northumberland. Ruth takes genuine pleasure in the natural beauty of her surroundings – the waves tumbling against the cliffs, the smell of vanilla drifting from a gorse bush, the sound of a curlew calling – and I loved seeing the Northumberland coast through her eyes.

I liked both Ruth and Quin, but there’s also a good selection of strong secondary characters: the other refugees who meet for tea and cakes in the Willow Tea Rooms; Ruth’s Uncle Mishak who copes with his wife’s death by planting radishes; Quin’s formidable Aunt Frances who will do anything to prevent Bowmont being given to the National Trust; and Ruth’s fellow students at the university, especially Verena Plackett, the closest thing to a villain in this novel. There are many more – too many to mention here – but all of them have something to add to the story.

I did enjoy The Morning Gift but it’s probably my least favourite of the three Ibbotson novels I’ve read so far. There was nothing in particular that I disliked about this book (apart from the slow start); it’s just that I preferred The Secret Countess and Madensky Square. I’m looking forward to continuing to work through the rest of Ibbotson’s novels!

Thanks to the publisher for providing a review copy via NetGalley.

The Chosen Queen by Joanna Courtney

May 28, 20157 Comments

In 1066, one of the most famous years in English history, three men were fighting for the throne of England: Harold Godwinson, the powerful Earl of Wessex; Harald Hardrada, the king of Norway; and William, Duke of Normandy. All three men had wives and in this new historical fiction trilogy, Joanna Courtney explores the lives of these three Queens of the Conquest.

The Chosen Queen is the first book to be published in the trilogy and follows the story of Edyth Alfgarsdottir, daughter of Alfgar, Earl of Mercia, and granddaughter of Lady Godiva. When Alfgar falls out of favour with the current King of England, Edward the Confessor, in the year 1055, the family are exiled to Wales. It is here that the fourteen-year-old Edyth meets and falls in love with the man who becomes her first husband – Griffin, King of all Wales. With unrest in the south of Wales, the chance of Viking invasions and the constant threat from the English side of the border, Griffin’s life is dangerous and uncertain – as he says to Edyth, he could be king for another twenty years or for just a few more hours.

When Edyth’s time as Queen of Wales eventually comes to an end, she finds herself back in England where she becomes caught up in the battle for the English crown. The childless King Edward has died, leaving Harold Godwinson as his successor, but neither Harald Hardrada of Norway nor Duke William of Normandy is willing to accept this. The new king needs a strong queen by his side, and Edyth, with her experience of the Welsh court and her family ties to both Mercia and Northumbria, is the ideal choice. The only problem is, Harold already has a wife…Edyth’s beloved friend, Svana.

The Chosen Queen is a fairly light historical novel and some readers may feel that there’s too much focus on Edyth’s romantic relationships, but I still found it quite an emotional and gripping read. It probably helped that I know very little about the Norman Conquest so most of Edyth’s story was new to me. With the story being told from a feminine perspective, I particularly enjoyed the portrayal of Edyth’s relationship with Svana, Harold’s handfast wife who befriends her as a child. Svana’s marriage to Harold took place outside the Catholic Church, which meant there was nothing to prevent Edyth from also marrying him, and the novel explores how both women may have felt about this.

Whenever I read historical fiction, I like to know how much of the book is based on fact and how much has been invented, so an author’s note is always appreciated. At the end of The Chosen Queen there’s not only an author’s note, but also a section giving further details on some of the historical figures, events and terms mentioned in the book (this is in addition to a map and two family trees at the front of the novel). It seems that some artistic licence has been taken (there is no evidence of a friendship between Edyth and Svana for example), but this is understandable when writing about a time period so far into the past; only a limited amount of factual information is available, so some imagination is obviously needed to fill in the gaps.

What I don’t understand was why it was necessary to change so many of the characters’ names. The original names are listed in an appendix together with the modernised forms found in the book and while I can maybe see the sense in referring to Harold’s first wife as Svana rather than Eadyth Swanneck (to avoid confusion with the story’s other Edyth), changing Gunnhild, Siward and Burgheard to Hannah, Ward and Brodie felt unnecessary and pulled me out of the 11th century. I like to feel fully immersed in the time period I’m reading about and that never really happened while I was reading this book. Accuracy is important to me, but it’s not the only thing I look for in a novel – I also look for a good story, and I do think Joanna Courtney has a lot of talent as a storyteller. She made me care about Edyth and she kept me turning the pages until I reached the end.

After finishing this book, I checked Joanna Courtney’s website for details of the other two novels in the trilogy. The second will be about Harald Hardrada’s wife Elizaveta of Kiev and the third will be about Matilda of Flanders, wife of William the Conqueror – two more women I know nothing about!

Thanks to Pan Macmillan for providing a copy of this book for review.

Dark Fire by C.J. Sansom

May 5, 2015May 5, 20154 Comments

This is the second in CJ Sansom’s Shardlake series set in Tudor England and following the investigations of hunchbacked lawyer Matthew Shardlake. The action in Dark Fire takes place a year or two after the events of the first book, Dissolution, which I loved, but although I would recommend reading the books in order it’s not essential and this is a complete story in itself.

Dark Fire is set during the summer heatwave of 1540 as Henry VIII prepares to cast aside his fourth wife, Anne of Cleves, and marry Catherine Howard. Thomas Cromwell, the man who was instrumental in arranging the marriage to Anne, has fallen out of favour with the King and needs to regain Henry’s trust as quickly as possible. When he witnesses a demonstration of Greek Fire (sometimes called Dark Fire), a legendary Byzantine weapon capable of destroying a ship in minutes, Cromwell thinks he has found the perfect way to impress Henry. The problem is, only a tiny amount of Greek Fire remains and the secret formula to produce more has gone missing.

Meanwhile, Shardlake has been approached by a client, Joseph Wentworth, whose niece, Elizabeth has been arrested for murder. Shardlake is convinced she is innocent, but as the girl refuses to say a word in her own defence it seems that even our hero’s skills as a lawyer will not be enough to save her. At the last minute Cromwell intervenes; Shardlake can have more time to investigate and to attempt to clear Elizabeth’s name – but in return he must help to discover the ancient secrets of Greek Fire, which Cromwell has promised to present to the King in twelve days’ time.

I enjoyed Dark Fire; everything I remembered from the previous book was here again – the thorough research, the atmospheric descriptions and the insights into 16th century society. Where this book is even better than Dissolution, in my opinion, is in the characterisation of Jack Barak, the rough, outspoken young man whom Cromwell chooses to assist Shardlake in his task. Barak and Shardlake are such different personalities, with such different strengths and weaknesses, that they form the perfect partnership. Watching their relationship develop was one of my favourite things about this novel.

The first Shardlake novel, Dissolution, was a murder mystery set almost entirely within the confines of a monastery. Dark Fire has a wider scope, with Shardlake and his new assistant, Barak, embarking on a race around London as they try to locate the ancient formula and prove Elizabeth’s innocence before their time runs out. Their journey takes them from prison cells and taverns to law courts and churches, and along the way they experience the best and the worst Tudor London has to offer: one day Shardlake is attending a ‘sugar banquet’ at the elegant home of the aristocratic Lady Honor, the next Barak is climbing down a well in the middle of the night to look for evidence.

Both of the novel’s central mysteries were intriguing, particularly the Greek Fire one – and both present their own set of difficulties and dangers to Shardlake and Barak. It appears that the Wentworth family (with the exception of Joseph) are more than happy for Elizabeth to take the blame and don’t want outsiders trying to interfere, while the Greek Fire mystery seems to result in death for anyone who gets too close to the truth. The appeal of this book for me, though, was not so much the plot as the wonderful portrayal of Tudor life. I’m pleased that I still have another four Shardlake novels to read, beginning with the third in the series, Sovereign.

Edwin: High King of Britain by Edoardo Albert

April 29, 2015April 29, 201513 Comments

He attempted to unite the warring tribes of Britain under one crown. He converted to Christianity in 627 and many others followed his example. After his death he became a saint. These are some of the achievements of Edwin, the 7th century King of Northumbria, but how many of you, without having read the title of this post, would have known who I was talking about? I always think it’s a shame that so much is written about some historical figures and so little about others, but in this, the first of the Northumbrian Thrones trilogy, Edoardo Albert gives Edwin the attention he deserves.

Edwin: High King of Britain is a fictional account of Edwin’s life. The story begins with Edwin in exile at the court of King Rædwald of East Anglia and follows him as he attempts to regain the throne of Northumbria. With his kingdom secure again, Edwin goes on to conquer several of his neighbouring kingdoms, believing that strength lies in unity. To secure an alliance in the south of the country, he marries Æthelburh, daughter of the King of Kent, but when his new bride heads north accompanied by her two Christian priests, Paulinus and James, Edwin has an important decision to make both for himself and for his people.

This is a fascinating novel and I feel that I’ve learned a lot from it, but it’s also a gripping, entertaining story. My description above might make it sound a bit dry, but it’s really not dry at all. In the first chapter alone, while seeking refuge at King Rædwald’s court, Edwin learns that his Northumbrian rival Æthelfrith has bribed Rædwald to assassinate him, and later that same day he has a moonlight encounter with a mysterious stranger who predicts that he will become a great and powerful king.

In the pages that follow there are battles and duels, feasts and feuds, and lots of political intrigue; there’s always something interesting happening or something new to learn and I was never bored. One very important thread that runs throughout the novel involves the coming of Christianity to Northumbria and the choice Edwin and his people are forced to make between the old pagan gods and the Christian God. This religious conflict is portrayed particularly well through the characters of Paulinus, the Italian missionary, and Coifi, Edwin’s chief pagan priest.

Writing a novel set so far into the distant past means that there is obviously a limit as to how much information is available, but Albert does seem to stick to the known facts as far as possible; his author’s note at the end explains where it was necessary to change things. The main sources he acknowledges are the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and the Ecclesiastical History of the English People by the Venerable Bede. He also includes some riddles and poetry from the Exeter Book (one of the few remaining works of Anglo-Saxon literature), which I thought was a nice touch.

I have read about this time period only once before, in Nicola Griffith’s beautifully written Hild, but while Hild gives us a female perspective, this is more of a male-dominated story so the two books complement each other very well. It was nice to be able to begin this book with some familiarity with the period, however slight, but I didn’t really need it because the author makes Edwin’s story easy enough to follow even if you have no previous knowledge at all. He also provides a list of characters and a glossary at the front of the book – and a map, which is very useful if you’re not sure where the various kingdoms that make up 7th century Britain are located.

Edwin: High King of Britain is one of the most enjoyable historical fiction novels I’ve read so far this year. I’m now looking forward to reading the sequel, Oswald: Return of the King.