Category: Reviews

Hera by Jennifer Saint

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In her previous novels, Jennifer Saint has retold the stories of several women from Greek mythology including Ariadne, Elektra and Atalanta. Her new book, Hera, as the title suggests, is a retelling of the life of Hera, Greek goddess of marriage.

The novel opens with Hera helping her brother Zeus to overthrow their father, the Titan Cronus, in a great war. With Cronus and the other Titans defeated and banished, Zeus divides control of the world between himself and his two brothers, Poseidon and Hades. Hera wants nothing more than to rule beside Zeus, so while her sisters Demeter and Hestia find new roles for themselves as goddesses of the harvest and the hearth respectively, Hera ends up marrying her brother. She isn’t able to gain the power she desires, however, and begins to grow increasingly resentful of Zeus.

Zeus makes Hera the goddess of marriage, presiding over weddings and childbirth, but their own marriage is far from perfect. Zeus is an unfaithful husband, cheating on Hera with nymphs, mortals and other goddesses, producing a multitude of children who either join the gods on Mount Olympus (such as Artemis and Apollo) or become heroes in the mortal world (Heracles and Perseus). Hera is determined to take revenge, but is this really her best route to happiness?

Hera is usually depicted in Greek myths as vengeful, jealous and vindictive and although Jennifer Saint has clearly set out to paint a more nuanced picture of her here, she doesn’t really do much to change that overall impression. I could certainly have sympathy for her as she’s repeatedly betrayed and treated badly by Zeus and struggles to achieve what she sees as her rightful position as his equal, but Saint’s Hera is still not an easy character to like. Her actions often seem petty and spiteful, taking out her frustrations not just on Zeus but on his children and their mothers, despite the fact that most of those women were actually raped or tricked by Zeus.

Hera is involved in many of the key moments and incidents from Greek myths and I felt that Saint tried to include absolutely everything in this book. Some episodes are fascinating and gripping, but I think others could probably have been left out. My favourite parts of the book were Hera’s visits to the caves inhabited by Ekhidna (usually spelled Echidna), the half woman-half snake who is mother to many of the most famous Greek monsters including Cerberus, the Hydra and the Chimera. In this version, Hera is the mother of Typhon, a monstrous snake-like giant, whom she gives birth to secretly and gives to Ekhidna to raise without Zeus’s knowledge.

This isn’t my favourite Jennifer Saint book – that would probably be Ariadne – but I did find it quite enjoyable and it was interesting to see Saint writing from the perspective of a goddess rather than a mortal woman for a change. Ultimately, though, I was left with a feeling of sadness because Hera seemed so bitter and unhappy; I wished she could have carved out her own path in life like Demeter and Hestia instead of allowing Zeus to do it for her. I’ll be interested to see who Saint writes about next; I would love a whole novel about Ekhidna and her monsters!

Thanks to Headline, Wildfire for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

The King’s Messenger by Susanna Kearsley

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The role of Royal Messenger is one that still exists, but has changed and diminished over time due to modern technology and the declining power of the monarchy. In the 17th century, when Susanna Kearsley’s new novel is set, the job involved acting as a courier to convey messages or important documents around the country, as well as carrying out other diplomatic missions on behalf of the monarch, in this case King James VI and I.

The King’s Messenger opens in London in 1613, ten years after James united Scotland and England under one crown. His eldest son and heir, Henry, Prince of Wales, has died unexpectedly and rumours of poisoning have started to spread. Determined to find out who is responsible, the King summons one of his Messengers, Andrew Logan, and sends him north to Scotland with orders to arrest Sir David Moray, who had been a companion to the young prince. James believes that capturing Sir David is the key to finding out what really happened to his son and he hopes to make him confess to his involvement.

A neighbour of Logan’s, Laurence Westaway, is commissioned to travel with Logan as a scrivener, or scribe, tasked with writing down any information Moray gives them that can be used as evidence. Because Westaway is in poor health, his daughter Phoebe insists on accompanying them to Scotland and back. Unfortunately, Phoebe has always hated Andrew Logan and her loathing for him has intensified since he became embroiled in a confrontation with her lover, the courtier Valentine Fox. It’s going to be an interesting journey!

The novel is written from four different perspectives. Andrew Logan and Phoebe Westaway are two of them and it’s interesting to see how they view each other and how their feelings change as the journey progresses. Sir David provides a third perspective, offering an outsider’s view of the other members of the party, as well as giving us some flashbacks to his time in Prince Henry’s service. Finally, there are a few chapters focusing on Queen Anna, the Danish wife of King James, who also wants to know more about her son’s death. I felt that the Anna sections weren’t really needed and added very little to the novel, but the other shifting perspectives worked very well, changing from one to another at appropriate times to move the story forward.

A large portion of the book is set on the road, as Andrew, Sir David and the Westaways make their way back to London from Scotland. I found the route they take interesting because it’s not very direct, but of course there are no modern roads or infrastructure in the 17th century and they also need to find towns and castles where they can shelter for the night along the way. Andrew’s scarlet livery, which identifies him as a King’s Messenger, can be either a blessing or a danger, depending on the political allegiances of the people they meet. Something else which could put him in danger, considering the witch hunts sweeping across the country during that period, is his ability to glimpse the future. Susanna Kearsley’s novels often contain elements of the supernatural and I liked the way they were handled in this book; Andrew’s second sight doesn’t form a big part of the story but does lead to a wonderfully eerie scene as the party are crossing the Tarras Moss in the land of the Border Reivers.

Susanna Kearsley’s author’s note is almost as interesting as the book itself! I was impressed by the level of research she carried out, including touring the Scottish Borders and north of England to trace the route her fictional characters would take. She also describes the history of the Royal Messengers which led to the creation of her fictional hero Andrew Logan and explains which of the other people in the book were historical figures who really existed. Sir David Moray is one of these, although usually referred to as Murray (she has a reason for using the Moray spelling). Whether real or fictional, all of the characters in the novel come to life; I loved both Andrew and Sir David and although it took me longer to warm to Phoebe, she did win me over in the end!

I loved this book; it’s probably my favourite by Susanna Kearsley so far. It’s also coincidentally the second book I’ve read in the space of two months about Anne/Anna of Denmark (the other was The King’s Witches by Kate Foster).

Thanks to Simon & Schuster UK for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Book 41/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

A Little Trickerie by Rosanna Pike

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This was surprisingly good! A few pages in, I started to wonder if I’d made a mistake in choosing to read this book – the writing style was very unusual and I thought I was going to find it irritating – but once I settled into the story I fell in love with the narrator and was gripped all the way to the end.

The novel is set in the early Tudor period, during the reign of Henry VII, and begins with the death of Tibb Ingleby’s mother. Tibb has never known a home of her own; she and her mother have lived the life of vagabonds, moving from one place to another to escape the consequences of her mother’s con tricks or relationships with unsuitable men. Now, left alone in the world with her newborn baby sister to care for, Tibb sets off across the countryside with one aim in mind: to one day have her own roof over her head at last.

Tibb soon finds that making your own way in life as a young woman in 16th century England is not easy. She gets herself into trouble now and then and despite her wish to settle down in one place, she is forced to stay on the move. Along the way she meets a multitude of people including a troupe of travelling performers, a villainous farmer and even royalty. There’s also Ivo, a young man who, like herself, is an outcast who doesn’t feel he can conform to society’s expectations. She and Ivo become close friends and although most of the novel is narrated by Tibb herself, Ivo provides us with an occasional second perspective.

Tibb’s narrative style, as I’ve said, is unique and takes a while to get used to. She seems unaware of the correct words to describe things – a balding head becomes a ‘thinning-on-top-head’, being naked is ‘wearing a no-clothes outfit’, an empty room is a ‘sad nothing-in-it room’, all of which make sense but are not what other people would say. It fits with her portrayal as an illiterate, unsophisticated, naive young woman, but at the same time she’s certainly not stupid and I would have thought that with age and experience her language would have improved, yet she sounds the same at the end of the book as she does at the beginning. Still, the unusual narrative voice didn’t annoy me as much as I thought it would and I did love Tibb. One scene in the middle of the book even brought tears to my eyes, I was so emotionally invested in her story.

I had assumed Tibb was an entirely fictional character, so I was surprised to learn that she was inspired by a real-life woman known as the Holy Maid of Leominster who, like Tibb herself, engaged in fraud and ‘trickeries’ (although at least in Tibb’s case, she acted with the best of intentions). I really enjoyed this book and will look out for more by Rosanna Pike.

Thanks to Fig Tree for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Book 40/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

Eighteen: A History of Britain in 18 Young Lives by Alice Loxton

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What sort of person were you when you were eighteen years old? What had you accomplished by that point in your life and what were your hopes and dreams for the future? Or, if you haven’t reached that age yet, what would you like to achieve before your eighteenth birthday? In her new book, Eighteen: A History of Britain in 18 Young Lives, Alice Loxton explores the stories of eighteen historical figures, some famous and some more obscure, with a focus on the first eighteen years of their lives and how their childhoods shaped the adults they would later become.

The book is arranged in chronological order, so the first historical figure to be covered is the Anglo-Saxon monk and scholar, the Venerable Bede, and the last is the fashion designer Vivienne Westwood. Each section is quite short – it’s not a long book and there are lots of lives to get through – but I think Alice Loxton achieves what she sets out to do, which is to shine a light on the early lives of her subjects and the ways in which they are influenced by not only their own family background and upbringing, but also the world around them. She looks only briefly at the achievements that make them famous after the age of eighteen, but that information is available elsewhere and this book is trying to do something different.

Loxton chooses her subjects from all walks of life and a range of different backgrounds, including royalty, artists, engineers, actors and writers. They are almost equally split between men and women and England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland are all represented. I was less interested in the people I’d read about before, such as Elizabeth I and the Empress Matilda, but there were others I was completely unfamiliar with and I found these chapters fascinating. I’m ashamed to say I knew nothing at all about the life of Jacques Francis, a diver originally from West Africa who attempted to recover the wreck of the Mary Rose during the Tudor period, or Sarah Biffin, an English artist born in the late 18th century without arms or legs.

Alice Loxton’s writing style is very readable and I flew through this book in much less time than it normally takes me to read non-fiction. Although it’s not marketed as being for any particular age group, it’s clearly aimed at readers closer to the age of her subjects, so she doesn’t bombard us with too much information and provides sources and notes at the back of the book rather than interrupting the text. She tries to find analogies that will make sense to young, modern readers, such as comparing a royal progress with a rock band going on tour, and imagines what the lives of some of her other historical figures would look like as a film adaptation or a slideshow. The main biographical chapters are also interspersed with other chapters describing a very special 18th birthday party, but I’ll leave you to find out more about that for yourself if you read the book!

Eighteen would be a fun, accessible way for teenagers to explore British history, but for those of us who are older it’s still an entertaining read and provides a good starting point for further investigation into some of these fascinating historical figures. I’m now interested in reading Alice Loxton’s previous book, Uproar!, about printmakers in Georgian London.

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

Finn Family Moomintroll by Tove Jansson – #MoominWeek

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Translated by Elizabeth Portch

I’ve never read a Moomin book until now – and if it hadn’t been for Mallika of Literary Potpourri and Chris of Calmgrove hosting #Moominweek this week (in time for Paula’s Moomin-themed wedding), I would probably never have picked one up. I’ve seen some of the cartoons/animated series, but it hadn’t occurred to me that I might enjoy reading the books. With no idea where to start – I’ve found several recommended reading orders, which aren’t necessarily chronological – I decided to begin with Finn Family Moomintroll and I think it was a good choice! As it was originally published in Swedish, it also counts towards Women in Translation Month.

First of all, what are Moomins? Well, they’re small, troll-like creatures who live in Moominvalley. There’s Moomintroll and his parents, Moominmamma and Moominpappa, and an assortment of friends including the Snork and the Snork Maiden (a related species, but with hair), Sniff, a strange little creature resembling a kangaroo who has been adopted by the family, and Snufkin, who wears old clothes and a wide-brimmed hat. You can see some of them, and others, in the illustration below:

Finn Family Moomintroll begins with the Moomin family preparing for their winter hibernation. After waking up again in spring, the book then takes us through the rest of the year, during which the Moomins have a series of adventures revolving around the discovery of a top hat belonging to a Hobgoblin. The hat turns out to have magical powers – some eggshells dropped into it become clouds for the children to ride on, and when Moomintroll himself hides inside it during a game, he too undergoes an unexpected transformation. The Moomins also go on an expedition to the Island of the Hattifatteners, are visited by two tiny creatures called Thingumy and Bob, and finally encounter the Hobgoblin, who has come in search of the missing King’s Ruby.

This book was first published in 1948 (and translated into English in 1950) and is the third in the Moomins series by order of publication. Although it would have been helpful to see how the various characters were first introduced, I didn’t really feel that I’d missed out on much by not reading the previous two books first – and in fact, this one was apparently marketed as the first in the series until the 1980s. I do wonder about the original Swedish title, Trollkarlens hatt, which translates to The Magician’s Hat; he is referred to as a Hobgoblin in the edition I read, but ‘Magician’ would have made more sense, I think.

The book has an episodic feel, with each chapter almost a separate little story in itself, linked by the common thread of the Hobgoblin’s Hat and its magical properties. There’s a focus on the relationships between friends and family members and on the various quirks and eccentricities of the characters. It’s obviously aimed at children, but as with all good children’s books it can be enjoyed by adults as well. I’m not even sure if I would have liked it as a child; I was never a big fan of the adaptations and I think I probably appreciated the book more now than I would have done when I was younger.

There aren’t really any deep themes here, but there’s a message of kindness and tolerance (the Moomins welcome all sorts of visitors and unusual creatures into the Moominhouse) which would have been more relevant than ever in the aftermath of World War II. I’ve heard that some of the later books in the series have more depth. I’ll probably try another one, although not immediately, and I’m interested in reading Tove Jansson’s adult books as well.

Cabaret Macabre by Tom Mead

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After enjoying the first two books in Tom Mead’s Joseph Spector mystery series, Death and the Conjuror and The Murder Wheel, I was pleased to see that he had written a third one. I think this might even be my favourite of the three! If you haven’t read any of them, you could start here if you wanted to; although there are some references to Spector’s earlier cases, there are no spoilers and all three mysteries work perfectly as separate standalones.

It’s December 1938 and retired magician Joseph Spector has been approached by the wife of Sir Giles Drury, a prominent judge, who wants him to identify the sender of some threatening letters. She believes the culprit may be Victor Silvius, who attacked her husband nine years earlier and has been confined in a private sanatorium ever since. Having noted Spector’s involvement in solving the recent Dean case (described in The Murder Wheel), she hopes he will be able to find out who is behind the letters.

Coincidentally, Spector’s friend Inspector Flint of Scotland Yard has had a visit from Caroline Silvius, sister of Victor Silvius. Caroline believes someone is trying to murder her brother and she’s convinced that person is Sir Giles Drury. With Spector and Flint both investigating the same situation from opposite sides, it’s inevitable that their paths will cross. Arriving at Marchbanks, the Drurys’ country estate, during a period of heavy snow, both men are baffled when a member of the family is found dead under very unusual circumstances. Can they solve the mystery before another murder takes place?

I really enjoyed Cabaret Macabre. It’s very cleverly plotted, with not one but two locked room style murders for Flint and Spector to investigate, but unlike the previous book, which I found too complicated, this one was easier for me to follow. That doesn’t mean it was easy to solve, however, because it certainly wasn’t! I had no idea how the murders were carried out or who was responsible for them, even though the clues were all there in the text. Tom Mead really is a master of this type of mystery and it’s easy to see the influence authors like John Dickson Carr and Agatha Christie have had on his work.

The book has a large number of suspects (and also potential victims) including Sir Giles, his wife and their four sons and stepsons, Victor and Caroline Silvius and an assortment of servants at Marchbanks. There’s also another murder case – or was it suicide? – from nine years earlier (the source of the animosity between Victor and Sir Giles), which could provide the key to what’s happening in the present. It’s impressive that Mead manages to pull all of this together without leaving any obvious holes in the plot. What I particularly love about this series, though, is the idea of a former magician becoming an amateur detective and using his special knowledge of illusions and deceptions to solve crimes and assist the police. Although Spector is still something of a mystery himself and reveals very little of his past or his private life, I think he’s a great character and the perfect partner for the more practical, less imaginative Inspector Flint.

If you haven’t tried a Joseph Spector book yet and are a fan of Golden Age mysteries, I do recommend them; this one and the first one, in particular, have quite an authentic 1930s feel, as well as being fun and entertaining. I’m hoping there’ll be more!

Thanks to Head of Zeus for providing a copy of this book for review via NetGalley.

Book 39/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024

This is book 20/20 of my 20 Books of Summer 2024.

Yes, I have completed my 20 Books of Summer list with nearly a week to go! I’ll be looking back at my 20 books and my experience with this year’s challenge in a special post at the end of the month.

The Golden Tresses of the Dead by Alan Bradley

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I had thought this book, published in 2019, was going to be the last in Alan Bradley’s Flavia de Luce series, so I hadn’t rushed to read it, thinking that once I had I would have no more to look forward to. Then I discovered that there’s actually another book coming in September – which will be the eleventh in the series – and decided to pick this one up now in preparation.

The Golden Tresses of the Dead begins in 1952 with our twelve-year-old heroine Flavia de Luce attending the wedding of her elder sister, Ophelia (known as Feely). I won’t tell you who she’s marrying, in case you haven’t reached this point in the series yet – or haven’t started at all. Everything is going well, apart from the usual naughtiness of Flavia’s annoying little cousin, Undine, but when Feely steps forward to cut into her wedding cake she screams in horror. There’s a human finger inside the cake! As Feely retreats to her room to recover from the shock, Flavia whisks the finger away to her laboratory so she can examine it and try to identify its owner.

The next day, Arthur W. Dogger & Associates, the new detective agency Flavia has formed with her father’s friend and manservant Dogger, receives its first client. A Mrs Prill is trying to track down some stolen letters and wants Flavia and Dogger to help. When they begin investigating, however, they discover that Mrs Prill hasn’t been entirely honest with them. Are the letters really missing – and could there be any connection with the severed finger in the cake?

As I’ve come to expect from the Flavia de Luce books, The Golden Tresses of the Dead (the title comes from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 68) is a quick, entertaining read; I did enjoy it, but it’s not one of the strongest and I think if I didn’t know there was another book on its way, I would have been disappointed with this one as a conclusion to the series. In general, I think the earlier books are more fun and have more charm than the later ones, so if you still haven’t tried one I would recommend going back to the beginning and starting with The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie.

Although this book has many of the same elements as most of the others in the series – it’s set, as usual, in and around the small English village of Bishop’s Lacey in the 1950s; Flavia still gets around on her trusty bicycle, Gladys; she still loves chemistry and conducting experiments in her fully equipped laboratory – there are also some differences. Feely leaves for her honeymoon early in the book and Flavia’s other sister, Daffy (Daphne), is tucked away working on her memoirs and only makes one or two brief appearances. The relationship between Flavia and her two sisters is one of the things that has always fascinated me about the series, so I was sorry that it’s not really explored any further here. We do see a lot of Undine, but I’ve never liked her and she doesn’t make up for the absence of Feely and Daffy! Also, as hinted at in the previous book, The Grave’s a Fine and Private Place, crime-solving is no longer a solitary activity for Flavia and she forms a new partnership with Dogger. It works well – Flavia does most of the trespassing, risk-taking and hunting for clues, but Dogger, with the benefit of age and life experience, knows how to interpret those clues. I’ve always loved him and was pleased to see him take such a prominent role in this book.

The mystery itself is complex, involving potential grave-robbing, poisonous plants and two missionaries who may not be quite what they seem, and I’ll admit that I found it confusing and didn’t really understand how everything tied together. I wondered if I just hadn’t been paying enough attention and had missed something, but looking at other reviews it seems that a lot of people had similar problems. This is not a favourite Flavia de Luce book, then, and I’m glad it’s not how the series ends! I’m looking forward to reading book eleven, What Time the Sexton’s Spade Doth Rust, and am hoping it will be better than this one.

Book 38/50 for the Historical Fiction Reading Challenge 2024