Book Review: Silent on the Moor by Deanna Raybourn

Dear Internet,

How do I convey my utmost respect for the beguiling Lady Julia Grey series ? My words simply spill out exhorbitantly when I attempt this endeavour, and the verbiage is enfused with such hyperbole that you'll think I've gone off on a bender or something.

And that is my attempt at trying to write like Deanna Raybourn. It simply can't be done.

Darling, darling, darling Deanna Raybourn. Thank you for saving my faith in romance novels. Twilight didn't do it. Neither did The Time-Traveller's Wife, The Notebook, nor anything by Debbie Macomber (Sorry Debs).

With that first electric kiss in the shadows of a gypsy camp, you made my heart sing. I was so taken, I had to text a friend.

The last time I was so moved by a book, I was sitting on my mother's couch, weeping over a bespeckled Catholic school boy.

Just go out and find Silent on the Moor. It's on-sale March 1 and it makes me smile so. (But don't forget to read the first two!)

Love,

Get Thee to a Punnery!

Bad Sex Award Proves Literary Heavy Weights Can't Handle Sexytimes

Paulo Coehlo, John Updike, and Simon Montefiore all have something in common—they should leave the love scenes for the professionals. All three have been shortlisted for the Literary Review Bad Sex in Fiction Award.

As a woman who has read a lot of sexy books and written some exceptionally distasteful sex scenes in her time (read on for an explanation), I am not surprised that these illustrious literary heavey-weights have been brought down a notch. It's not easy writing sex. There's a fine balance between just enough exposition and the purple prose that keeps the reader wanting more.

Plus, is sex really something a novel needs anyway? Obviously if the literature has been published, and it hasn't been cut in the rigorous editorial process, one can assume that some one made the executive decision to keep it. Sex sells, right? So maybe if we keep Coehlo's love scene (set upon a park footpath), we'll sell a few more copies. What say you, Coehlo?

"At last, she could no longer control the world around her," Coelho continues, "her five senses seemed to break free and she wasn't strong enough to hold on to them. As if struck by a sacred bolt of lightning, she unleashed them, and the world, the seagulls, the taste of salt, the hard earth, the smell of the sea, the clouds, all disappeared, and in their place appeared a vast gold light, which grew and grew until it touched the most distant star in the galaxy."

If I had read this in context, I still would have snorted out laughing. Then rolled my eyes, because never have I emitted "a vast gold light." But then, I'm probably too artless for the type of sex Mr. Coehlo composes. For the longest time, my literary sex life was rooted in fanfiction written by and for teenagers like me, a world full of dominant males and eager to please sexual novices. Heck, I even wrote some of that garbage myself. And no, you cannot see it.

And nowadays I've got a pile of Harlequins a meter high, waiting to be devoured in between Don Quixote and On the Road.

I'm not saying that sex should stay in genre fiction. Heaven knows there are great examples of good sex in literary novels (The Time Traveller's Wife, anyone?) But it's awfully difficult to write a good love scene.

Image source: Stewf

Book Review: The Fountain by Darren Aranofsky and Kent Williams

Darren Aranofsky’s The Fountain (published by Vertigo Comics in 2005) is a visually interesting over-sized graphic novel based on the movie of the same name. Published a year before the film was released, Aranofsky’s intentions were to preserve a part of his project just in case Hollywood “f**ks him over.” A prudent notion, considering his film was met with mixed (and confused) reactions.

Having never watched the film, I borrowed The Fountain from the library thinking I could read this instead and get pretty much the same thing, albeit with ninety percent less Hugh Jackman. The film runs at about an hour and a half; in today’s world of thirty hour Lord of the Ring marathons, this is a fairly quick watch. But at 176 big pages full of cool drawings, the graphic novel wins. I think I read this in under an hour.

As can be imagined, the story is similar to the film. It revolves around the same couple in three different time periods—1535 Spain and Central America, present day, and “the future” wherein we will all be riding around in giant space bubbles in the nude, if Aranofsky gets his way.

The central theme of all three stories is the loss of the great love. Tomas traipses through each time period, bellowing, crying and nearly stamping his feet in effort to save the woman he loves. Inevitably, they all die, though. Sorry, I didn’t give away the ending. It’s pretty much a given.

I wasn’t terribly impressed with the graphic novel, and I can understand why the film was met with mixed reviews. The story is a great idea. It has so much Romeo-and-Juliet potential, it could be Romeo and Juliet. But the execution falls flat on its face. The novel is drawn by Kent Williams, an artist widely respected in the industry. While some images are visually spectacular, there are parts of the graphic novel wherein background characters are little more than drawn lines. Perhaps one could argue that Williams and Aranofsky are trying to emphasize Tomas’s intense focus on his love, and so the rest of the world appears little more than hazy outlines, but it just looks unfinished.

See for yourself:


Each story ends with Tomas’s love dying in some fashion. In 1553, she sacrifices herself for the glory of her queendom. In the present day, she quietly dies in a hospital bed as Tomas receives word that they have found a cure for her cancer. Most bizarrely, in the future (remember, floating through space in a bubble), she is sacrificed to give life to the tree inside the bubble.

That I don’t get. The first two, I’m cool on. Tragic, romantic, ideas I can grasp. The final pair I can’t come to terms with. Why are they in that bubble? What’s the point of her dying if Tomas is just going to float through space alone?

Perhaps it’s just too meta for me.

Rating: Three stars

Book Review: Mistress of the Art of Death by Ariana Franklin (aka Diana Norman)

Mistress of the Art of Death has been in my TBR pile since its publication. In fact, it probably should have gone on my TBR Challenge list at least a couple of years ago, but the list is so long, it sort of got lost in the depths of it.

Like a lot of books that find their way into my TBR pile, this one happened to casually announce itself through my former job as a sales girl at the local big-box bookstore. I would scower the shelves and the display tables for something new and interesting (and there was always something new and interesting), then write down the title or the author to take home. My pockets were full of slips of paper by the end of most of my shifts.

Despite the fact that I would ritually spend half my pay cheque on new books, I never picked this one up. I thought about it during my weekly trip to the bookstore. As I was checking out the graphic novels, for some reason my eyes shifted to the next shelf over. Lo and behold, there it was, staring me in the face.

Mistress is set in twelfth century England. Four children from Cambridge and the surrounding area have been kidnapped and murdered in a horrible fashion. The first child was found crucified and the local Jews have been accused of the murders. Cambridge, incensed by these brutal killings, force the Jews to flee to the castle, where they are protected by the sheriff, but not before Chaim, Cambridge’s most successful moneylender (and the unfortunate soul who discovers the first murdered child), is lynched, along with his wife.

King Henry I is shrewd—he is not interested in seeing the most profitable citizens of his kingdom expelled or massacred. Not when there are wars to be won and coffers to be filled.

His answer arrives in a pilgrimmage. An unlikely trio arrive in Cambridge: Simon, the best investigator the King of Naples can send, Mansur, a Moor, and Vesuvia Adelia Rachel Ortese Aguilar—mistress of the art of death. Salerno, home of Europe’s best medical experts, is where they come from, and they are commanded to find the murderer, and (hopefully) exonerate the Jews.

Adelia is a wonder—a female doctor in a world where even male doctors are considered an oddity, she is faced with the task of examining the corpses to determine who could have committed such a heinous act, while evading the notice of the Cambridge townfolk. It isn’t always easy to avoid notice, being the only group of foreigners in town.

Of course, this is Adelia’s story. But Franklin does not allow the other characters to become one-dimensional. They each have their quirks, which makes the book much more than just a mystery—it’s a novel about ordinary people in a historical setting reacting to extra-ordinary circumstances.

Child-killers are rare even in today’s society. To find your community invaded by a serial killer during that time must have been a truly frightening experience, and you can see how such events can create monsters and demons to frighten us in the dead of night. Indeed, Franklin ultimately turns him into a demon by his ritual--when he kills he transforms himself into an animal by wearing a pair of antlers, and he lures children to his den with jujubes, the Pied Piper of the fens.

I enjoyed learning the history of the fenland people, their accents especially. At times it was hard to get the gist of what they were saying, and I can only imagine how much harder it would have been for poor Adelia.

I didn’t enjoy Mistress right from the beginning. For one thing, the book’s language is frilly. But as the mystery soon enfolded, I was quickly sucked in. It’s part-CSI thriller, part-historical fiction, with a dash of romance thrown in to round it out completely. I’ll add The Serpent’s Tale on the TBR pile, because I like Adelia a lot and I’m interested to learn more.

Having also read Ken Follett’s Pillars of the Earth, I have a greater appreciation for the history as well. Franklin’s novel paints a different side of Henry I—in Mistress he is more than just the instigator of Thomas á Beckett’s death, he is a sensible and fair king who struggles with the limits of his own power. He also has some of the best lines in the book.

Definitely worth a read if you’re interested in the time period, or enjoy medical mysteries.

Rating: 4 stars

Book Review: Silent in the Grave by Deanna Raybourn

A co-worker here at the Romance Factory (aka Harlequin) suggested I read Deanna Raybourn's Silent in the Grave after I told her how much I love historical romance. Not being a regular fan of mystery, though, I wasn't too excited about picking it up. However, this particular co-worker was sweet enough to hunt down and steal copies of both Grave, and its sequel, Silent in the Sanctuary for me, so I had little choice but to put it on the TBR pile.

Honestly, I am so glad I did! Even for the casual dabbler of mystery such as I this book was fantastic.

Silent in the Grave begins at a party in Lady Julia Grey's lavish townhome. Her husband Edward collapses and dies in front of their guests, a victim of his family's history of heart illness. Julia, left to ponder the next stage in her life, is visited shortly after the funeral by Nicholas Brisbane, a mysterious tall drink of water that I picture as either Gerard Butler or Stephen Moyer (Bill from Showtime's True Blood). To her surprise, he informs her that her dearly departed husband may not have simply died from a weak heart—he may, in fact, have been murdered!

It starts off incredibly well and keeps you glued to the pages as you dive deeper and deeper into intrigue. There's gypsies, there's lesbians, there's even absinthe! The writing is clever and whitty, and, best of all, it's a good whodunnit. While there are no "lemons" to be found, the most romantic moment in the book actually made me swoon. Swoon! I immediately put down the book, and texted my best friend to tell her she needed to read it.

Perhaps I'm too enthusiastic, but I don't particularly care. In a world where romance novels can be dreary and tepid at best, with a single kiss Raybourn ignited the romantic tension in the book. It's a perfect case for how less can somtimes be so much more.

Book Review: Slightly Single by Wendy Markham

Wendy Markham's Slightly Single was a good read. Her story revolves around Tracy, an overweight twenty-something living in NYC. Her boyfriend, Will, is an actor and as the summer begins, Tracy is faced with her biggest fear--spending the summer alone. Will is off to upstate New York for summer stock. Without her.

I could relate to Tracy's character in a lot of ways. We're both overweight, we both have overbearing families at least an hour's drive away from us (her's is a bit farther...in Jersey no less!), we're both broke and we're both horribly self-aware. On the other hand, Tracy and I are different. While I battle issues with self-image, I'd like to think I'm not quite as abusive to myself as she is. Maybe I should be, though. Through the course of the summer, Tracy ends up losing forty pounds.

I liked the ending because it was hopeful. While Tracy ends up breaking up with Will, she's not utterly devastated by it. She realizes she can go on. I recently broke up with my long-term boyfriend and, despite it being really effing hard, I'm trying to keep that same mentality. Reading this book at this point in my life is sort of like a nice girlfriend reminding me I'm totally not alone. You can never have enough of those girlfriends.

Well-written and full of good characters, I really liked Wendy Markham's Slightly Single. I'm looking forward to reading Slightly Married next.

Book Review: Beyond Compare by Candace Camp

Candace Camps' Beyond Compare is a fun and quick romantic adventure centered around Kyria "The Goddess" Moreland and Rafe McIntyre, an American oil tycoon. Kyria and Rafe have some great moments together--their first romantic encounter is particularly steamy. I've always found that Camp writes romance well and she certainly didn't disappoint.

The story is fairly interesting, in that it kept the novel moving quickly. Rafe and Kyria meet at her sister's wedding to his best friend, and are soon befallen by an intrigue around an ancient, possibly stolen reliquary that arrives at her door. I didn't feel at all like it was dragging and the action was well written and stayed true to the time period.

All in all, I enjoyed the book. Camp's Regencies are well-written and the characters are likeable. Four out of five stars!

Book Review: Breaking Dawn by Stephenie Meyer

Sweet glittery vampires! This book...well, I have to be kind, don't I?

I'll be honest. I haven't finished it. I'm trying very hard to finish (mostly because I want to return it to Chapters, but that's another story...) but boy does Meyer make it hard.

I've been hauling this 700 + page tome around for the better part of a week and a half and I just can't get into the story. It's long, it's over-wraught with ridiculous emotions that make absolutely no sense and - can I just say - the name Renesmee is quite possibly the silliest one I have ever heard. Mashing two people's names together to create a new one is only awesome if you do it to mock them (e.g. Brangelina); it's rarely going to turn into a good name, as evidenced by Meyer's poor, linguistically-challenged attempt. Most of the characters start calling the poor kid "Nessie" for short. Personally, I would have gone with "Smee", but that's just because I hold a candle for Peter Pan's Smee (and it's fun to say)!

I'm sorry...I'm trying to be nice. It just makes me mad, though. Here was a perfectly nice trilogy of silly, fluffy, teenage vampire romance (fairly certain that's how she sold it to Little, Brown) and she had to go and ruin it by cashing another cheque. You can't convince me otherwise.

Shoulda stuck to three, Meyer. This one's an F for me.

Book Review: Outlander by Diana Gabaldon

Pirates. Vampires. Ruthless tycoons. Lately, hot cops. Those have been the men that turn me on fictionally. Never once did a Highlander come into the equation. They wear kilts! As a Catholic schoolgirl, I wore a kilt and it was none too comfortable, let me tell you. I can't fathom wearing one in a balmy Ontario winter, let alone while traipsing across the Scottish moors.

So you can appreciate my level of skepticism when I purchased Diana Gabaldon's Outlander, the first book in the Outlander series. To be fair, I bought it during my brief stint as a bookseller and I was convinced by the cohorts of women who would ask me where the book is kept that it was worth the read.

I can finally say that they were right. Having had a bit of a stressful May and June, I wanted something light and fun to read - I certainly got it.

We meet Claire Beauchamp (my ten years of mandatory French refuses to let me pronounce it "Beach-am" as Gabaldon states in the book), a pragmatic young nurse, on her honeymoon with Frank, in the Scottish Highlands. Having been married for several years already, they haven't had the time to go on a honeymoon due to a little thing called World War II. Frank is a stodgy sort of fellow, a historian by profession, who seems more interested in Scottish history than he is in Claire.

Claire is transported into the strange and unfamiliar world of sixteenth century when she falls through a rocky portal on an ancient hill called Craig na Dun. There she meets a young Scotsman named James Fraser. Fraser is the exact opposite of her twentieth century husband - a clansman by birth, an outlaw by circumstance, he is courageous, swarthy and fills out a kilt like nobody's business. I'm not even a fan of red-haired men, but boy, did I fall in love with Jamie!

Invariably, Claire does as well, which makes this one of the best historical romances I've read. No wonder the series is so popular - Gabaldon infuses the characters with such personality that it's hard not to love them. Claire is a spitfire - smart, funny and handy when you need a shoulder relocated. As I said before, Jamie makes me swoon.

Still, I'm not convinced I'll read the rest of the series. I want to think they will all be as good as the first one, but they never really are, are they? I'm a fan of quality, not quantity, and if that means I have to settle with just a taste of Claire and Jamie, I don't really mind all that much!