Book review: Mimi, by Lucy Ellmann

 

This is a review of the book Mimi, which tells the story of the relationship between Mimi and Harrison, two very different New Yorkers whose lives become irreparably intertwined.

The book is notable at first because it was written by a woman, but is told in first person from Harrison’s point of view. This isn’t hugely unusual, but I always find that writing from the perspective of the opposite gender certainly has its own challenges. That said, the author does a magnificent job of getting into the head of a middle aged man and showing us his catharses.

The characters in the book are also remarkably interesting. Mimi is larger than life and makes no apologies for it; Harrison is surprisingly pliable (or perhaps quite so not surprisingly, given his profession is plastic surgery and he therefore makes a living out of plying others); Harrison’s sister Bee is forthright and an excellent foil for him; Bubbles the cat is luxuriant and indulged; the ex-girlfriend Gertrude is ridiculous. Even the city of New York is almost a character in this tale, such is its presence in the narrative – which, again, surprised me given that the author’s biography has her residences in Illinois and England. All told it provides for a fascinating story of how these characters clash, interact and generally behave.

That being said, the novel is not without flaws. I wondered at the copious amounts of backstory in the first third of it; sure, some of it helps ground the characters (particularly Harrison) but much of it seemed unnecessary. It was almost like any random thought from the protagonist would be enough to propel the reader into ten or so pages of historical content which had little bearing on the story at hand. Much of it makes more sense once you reach the story’s conclusion, but even so I felt it could have been cut substantially and yet still had the same impact. This perhaps also had a bearing on my thought in the early chapters that a book supposed to be about the character Mimi had pretty much no appearances from her for a very long time. (It seems an easy enough equation: less backstory = more Mimi.) Once she appeared for good, of course, she was rarely absent from the page, whether in presence or thought, but it did feel like it took a longer time than usual to get there.

My other comment is more a musing than anything – when did the C word become so acceptable? When I was growing up it was almost taboo, and now every third book seems to have it in abundance. Sometimes I feel it’s just used for shock value, other times it’s making a political statement – but maybe I’m just getting old and prudish, and in general society it doesn’t have the impact it used to have. In any case it takes some getting used to, seeing it in print so regularly, and this book was no exception. I admit it was within character for Harrison to use it, but I still raised my eyebrows.

Finally, I would like to say that Mimi ends up a very different book from how it started. I dare say this is deliberate, and showcases Harrison’s changing thought processes admirably, but what started pretty much as a love story becomes very political by the end. Naturally Mimi herself has had a large role in this change, and therefore it is quite appropriate that the book is named after her, but again it took me by surprise a little. I suppose, in the end, it’s about the effect love has on a person, for better or worse, even when the beloved is not present. And it’s a journey of self discovery – a journey from the fake to the real, in many ways – by a man who wasn’t all bad to start with, but who has an epiphany which affects thousands of others.

All in all, Mimi is a well-told story with a number of unexpected twists and turns. Its characters are real, warts and all, and almost compel you to keep reading by their sheer vivacity. If you would like to read a craftily-constructed tale which explores people’s deepest insecurities and celebrates matriarchal solutions, then this is definitely a book for you.

 

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Mimi, by Lucy Ellmann
352 pages (paperback)
Published by Bloomsbury
Available on Amazon as ebook and paperback

Book review: Little Known Facts, by Christine Sneed

Little Known Facts is the debut novel of author Christine Sneed, who has previously published a number of short stories. It follows the world of Renn Ivins, a fictional movie star of the ilk (and generation) of Harrison Ford or Pierce Brosnan – highly successful, multi award winning, and highly sought after by both studios and women.

I was not surprised to learn that the author was known for her short stories prior to this novel, because in reality that is what it is: a collection of short stories with Renn Ivins as the central theme. There are chapters from the points of view of each of his adult children, both his ex-wives, his current lover, a props attendant and wannabe biographer, and Ivins himself, all told in different ways and different styles. Yes, there is a kind of a narrative that follows throughout the chapters, but in many ways it feels much more like a series of essays about a central character than a novel as such.

I will also add here that I was a little surprised that the focus of the novel was, in fact, Renn Ivins, mainly because the blurb on the inside front cover implies that it’s more about his children. Yes, they each get two chapters (more than anyone else does), but it feels like it is Ivins’ story which is really being told, through them, rather than their own.

That being said, it is certainly an interesting read. There is a part of all of us which is curious about the lifestyles of the rich and famous: even if you don’t read the supermarket tabloids or gossip magazines, there is still that bit that wonders what it would be like to have that kind of life. Some covet it, others would hate it, but most of us have at least considered it. This book is one way to satisfy that curiosity: it’s a peek into the life of a very successful Hollywood star, and how that stardom affects those around him and those that mean the most to him. It feels slightly voyeuristic, but it does the job.

I was also impressed with the ease with which Sneed jumped from POV to POV. All of the chapters are styled in a different way – some in first person, some in third, one (from an ex-wife) told in excerpts from her tell-all autobiography, one (Ivins) as notes from his journals. They all felt distinct from each other which is no mean feat: many established authors struggle to change the feel and narrative style of their different POV chapters, yet in this it feels effortless. It may be, as I have noted, due to her background in short stories, but it was certainly noteworthy in a novel of this length.

All in all I thought this was an excellent debut novel. Well-written, engaging and just that little bit voyeuristic, it captured my imagination and made me stay up way past my bedtime so I could finish it. If you have any curiosity about how fame can affect one’s nearest and dearest, then this is definitely one way to find out.

 

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Little Known Facts, by Christine Sneed
320 pages (paperback)
Published by Bloomsbury
Available on Amazon as ebook, hardcover and paperback

The Australian Women Writers challenge 2013

Today, I’m officially announcing my participation in the Australian Women Writers challenge. The what?, I hear you ask. Well, it’s a reading challenge that was established last year as a way to stop the gender bias that exists in so many book review pages, particularly in the established media. This bias isn’t necessarily deliberate, but it does exist, and so the AWW challenge is a way to help change that. You can read about the background here.

Now, to say that I’m taking part in this doesn’t mean that I’m ONLY reading Australian women writers. Heck, I read over 100 books in a year, and only a small proportion of those are going to fit the criteria. But some are better than none, and a lot are better than some. I’ve already read two books by Australian women this year so I don’t see it as being a particularly onerous idea.

Here are the categories (from the AWW challenge website):

• Stella – read 4 – review at least 3
• Miles – read 6 – review at least 4
• Franklin – read 10 – review at least 6
• Create your own challenge – do you plan to specialise in a particular genre or interest area, e.g. Science Fiction, self-published or Indigenous literature? Are you aiming for a high number, e.g. all the books you can read?

Last year I signed up for Stella, which was easy enough. This year, to push myself a bit, I’ve decided I’m going to go for the Franklin – read ten books, review at least six. With all the great Australian women writers out there, it should be a piece of cake, right?

And now, I am going to ask you to consider signing up to this challenge as well. Below I’ve listed a few common objections to participating, with my solutions.

• Not female? Well, who says you have to be a woman in order to read a story by a woman? I certainly read a heck of a lot of stories by male authors, Australian or not.
• Not Australian? Why should that be a problem? Is there a rule that says you can only read books by people you share a country with?
• No time? Hey, if I can do it, so can you. What’s the big deal in reading four books in a year?
• Don’t review books on your blog? No problem! If you have a Goodreads account you can just review on that site.
• Don’t know any Australian women writers? Well, luckily for you the people behind the challenge have set up a bookshelf on Goodreads for you to have a look at, with over 1000 books listed on it. That should be enough for anyone.

So, this is both my announcement that I’m participating, and my plea for you to consider it too. Just go to the AWW website and sign up.  It’s free, it’s easy and you might just discover a new favourite author.

Related articles

• Australian Women Writers Challenge Book Review (dionnelisterwriter.wordpress.com)
• Monday musings on Australian literature: Australian Women Writers’ Challenge 2012 Round-up (whisperinggums.com)
• Inaugural Stella Prize Longlist Announced (australianwomenwriters.com)
• Australian Women Writers’ Challenge (shawjonathan.wordpress.com)
• Australian Women Writers Challenge 2013 (woahmolly.com)

Book review: The Sword and the Flame: The Forging and The Sword and the Flame: The Purging, by CP Bialois

The Sword and the Flame, by CP Bialois

 

This is a review of the books The Sword and the Flame: The Forging and The Purging, by CP Bialois. I know I don’t normally review more than one book at a time but it seemed pointless to do only one here when they are very much a set. They are set in a fantasy world of magic, elves, dwarves, halflings and gods, and follow the adventures of a group of travellers seeking their freedom.

The series starts with the halfling Janessa and her human friend Viola, who is a Mage in training. In this world, halflings are known pickpockets and are treated with mistrust, so to have a friendship like this is rare. They venture outside their city walls to visit a travelling company of merchants & entertainers, where they encounter Mern, a Mage with ulterior motives who befriends Viola; Berek, a human with unexplained super-sensory abilities; and Galin, a dwarf who has forsaken his kind who live underground to instead live the life of a travelling salesman.

Normally I don’t like to comment much on editorial errors in self published books. The fact is, if you’re picky enough then you will find mistakes in even traditionally published works, and usually it’s not of any magnitude that matters. These books, however, could really have done with a good proof-read. Run-on sentences are commonplace, and the author seems to have trouble with homonyms – for example, a village was raised (rather than razed) to the ground, a character was moving his personal affects (rather than effects) on a cart, and there were references to a journey to another plain (rather than plane). Done occasionally, this isn’t a big deal, but it happened often enough to detract from my enjoyment of the story.

Once I got past that, though, it was an entertaining, if not high quality, read. The story of Berek’s escape from his slave-holder was well done, and the growing bond between Galin and Janessa was a pleasure to behold. Viola’s journey from trainee to mage was also enjoyable.  Parts confused me at first, like the cleric Gilliam’s mistrust of magic-users when he uses spells himself, but when that was explained later it made enough sense for me to gloss over the initial confusion. I also felt that some parts of it were rushed a little: Fleir’s addition to the company was one example, and the battle in Solava (especially its conclusion) was another. It was like the author had too many subplots and events that he wanted to fit into the story, and I felt that if some of these had been fleshed out a little more it would have made a better read.

Finally, I thought the title was a little misleading. I’m the first to admit that titles are really difficult to get right, and I’m not willing to offer an alternative, but I thought that they implied that there would be a special sword that was forged and used to win the war. Instead, what is forged is the strength of the unlikely company, and what is purged is selfishness and greed. It’s still relevant, but a lot more obscurely so than I had expected.

Overall, if you are looking for a decent fantasy read that tells an entertaining story, The Sword and the Flame is worth picking up. If, however, you are distracted by editorial errors and flimsy segues, then perhaps it might be worth waiting until a new edition is released. An entertaining series, yes, but not without it flaws.

 

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The Sword and the Flame: The Forging and The Sword and the Flame: The Purging, by CP Bialois
Published by Amazon Digital Services
442 and 397 pages (paperback)
Available from Amazon.com as paperback and ebooks

Book review: The Angry Woman Suite, by Lee Fullbright

The Angry Woman Suite, by Lee Fullbright

This is a review of the book The Angry Woman Suite, by Lee Fullbright, a novel spanning three generations and a host of characters in early-to-mid twentieth century America.

The story is about the family of Francis Grayson, a free-thinking famous and successful band leader in the 1940s whose career disappears with the advent of rock’n'roll. However, his career is almost supplementary to the story, which is really about the mysteries (and history) surrounding his mother, aunts and grandmother.

I’m the first to admit that in a lot of stories, it’s the tale of a previous generation that intrigues me more than the tale being told. Perhaps it’s because it’s something that is only hinted at, without being spelt out, but I have noticed it about myself. The Harry Potter books, for example, or the Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones) series, I find myself thinking more about what came before the events of the novels, than the novels themselves. (Okay, those are fantasy books, and this is historical fiction/mystery, but the point stands.) And, reading this book, I thought the same thing was going to happen again.

The novel starts in first person from the point of view of five year old Elyse, who is soon to become Francis’ step-daughter (and, later, adopted daughter), and her interpretation of what is going on around her. The next chapter, also in first person, tells Francis’ perspective on a number of the same events – much of which is at odds with the way Elyse told it. Even after reading the book twice, I’m still not sure whose is the accurate portrayal, or whether it was in fact a combination of the two. We later see the POV of Aiden Madsen, who had been Francis’ school master and mentor, as the story weaves between the early 1900s to the post-war era, telling bits and pieces of the Grayson family history as it goes.

However, my concern about not seeing the story that intrigued me the most was misplaced, as the story of Francis’ mother, and all the baggage that came with that story, was revealed as the novel progressed. In fact, the title of the book refers to Francis’ mother (albeit in a roundabout way), so I needn’t have worried. I suspect it was the fact that the book opened with Elyse that threw me, thinking that much of the story would be set in the 1950s rather than delving back into the past like it did.

This is, in truth, an awe-inspiring debut novel. It ticks all the boxes: engaging narrative, excellent characterisation, fascinating story, with even a couple of celebrity murders thrown in for good measure. Everything is linked by Francis’ seemingly unshakeable need to “fix” them all – the house, the women who raised him, and his relationship with Elyse, her mother and her sister – yet it is only when he accepts his own limitations that he finds peace. My only significant critique is that the voices all sound similar: the first person narratives of Elyse, Francis and Aiden, three very different people of different generations, didn’t sound particularly different to me as I was reading them. Several times I even had to go back a few pages in order to remember whose story I was being told. I completely understand how difficult it can be to change voices enough to differentiate them on the page to the reader, so I’m not suggesting any lack of skill on Fullbright’s part, but perhaps it might have been better to use third person in a case like this. (She may have tried this, of course, and it didn’t work for her, but that’s just my thought on the matter.)

Overall, though, it is hard to find anything bad to say about this book. If you like mystery, intrigue and a bit of romance, then The Angry Woman Suite is well worth picking up.

 

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The Angry Woman Suite, by Lee Fullbright
Published by Telemachus Press
382 pages (paperback)
Available in paperback and ebook from Amazon

 

Related articles

• The Angry Woman Suite by Lee Fullbright….Review Tour & Giveaway (katepatrick.wordpress.com)
• The Angry Woman Suite: My review (gabina49.wordpress.com)

 

Book review: Who Will Save the Planet? by Peter McLennan

Who Will Save the Planet? by Peter McLennan

This is a review of the book Who Will Save the Planet? by Peter McLennan. You may remember Peter from his three part series on my blog a few months back (part 1, part 2 and part 3), where he talked us through the self-publishing process. Well, I’ve agreed to review his debut novel, and let me say it’s a fine read.

The story centres around Jason Saunders, a fourteen year old boy from small-town Australia. Still smarting from losing the school debate on whether global warming is indeed an issue that needs to be dealt with, Jason goes to his local beach for some me-time, sees a man floundering in the water and swims out to rescue him. The man turns out to be the Australian Prime Minister, who in front of a bunch of media tells Jason he can have anything he wants. The answer? Emission control targets, which is topical not only because of the school debate, but also due to an upcoming global meeting on climate change.

It’s a well-written and engaging story, told not just through Jason’s eyes but also through the prism of Cabinet meetings and, well, let’s call it “secret leaders’ business”. The Government – which by the way could be either of Australia’s major political parties, as it’s not specified which one they are – isn’t necessarily sold on the idea of emission control targets, and wonder if it’s possible to make Jason change his request. After all, with the promise of whatever he wanted caught by the television cameras, they’re in a bit of a hard place politically.

The ups and downs of politics, the personal charm of the leader and the stubbornness – or otherwise – of a fourteen year old boy caught in the middle makes for an engrossing story. Engagingly written, I found myself unwilling to put it down, even when I had to.

That said, of course, I’m not saying that the book is without faults. Early in the book a girl in Jason’s class called Emma makes a few appearances, and it’s implied that Jason has a bit of a thing for her. This would generally make one think that she would have a role later in the story, but past the first few chapters she doesn’t show up again. To me that feels like a loose end – why include her if she’s not going to have a role?

The other thing that bothered me was Jason’s desire for a large, petrol-guzzling SUV. Sure, I can see a fourteen year old eyeing off something like that, and encouraging his father to buy one, but for a boy who staunchly claims over and over that “if it’s bad for the environment I don’t want it”, it does seem an odd preference. Maybe if he planned to convert it to run on used vegetable oil from the local fish and chip shop that would make more sense, but if he did it’s not mentioned in the narrative.

Overall, though, it’s an entertaining story for a young adult audience. Those from outside Australia might find some of the politics confusing, but then again it’s explained pretty well in the text (the PM does have to make sure Jason knows how the system works) so that shouldn’t be too much of an issue. Sure, if you’re one of the climate change skeptics you might take issue with Jason and his convictions, but then again I wouldn’t expect a climate change skeptic to pick up a book called Who Will Save the Planet? anyway. Assuming, though, that you’re not turned off by a few paragraphs of political explanation and a theme around fighting global warming, I would say it’s well worth a read.

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Who Will Save the Planet? by Peter McLennan
200 pages (paperback)
Published by Peter McLennan
Available on Amazon.com as e-book and paperback.

Book review: The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, by Aimee Bender

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, by Aimee Bender

This is a review of the book The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, by Aimee Bender. The first thing that strikes you about this novel is, understandably enough, the title. It’s evocative yet teasing – you get an impression from it but you’re not really sure what it’s about. After all, how can lemon cake be sad?

The second thing that strikes you when you start reading is the way Bender treats dialogue, which is without quote marks /inverted commas / whatever you want to call them. Third paragraph in you get the first taste of this, which I admit takes some getting used to, viz:

How about a practice round? she said, leaning past the door frame.

At that point I found myself flicking through the book, wondering if this was how dialogue was done the whole way through. The answer is yes. It’s clearly a stylistic choice, but it does mean that the way some of it is written is stilted, as you have to have a he said/she said type of tag for every item of speech. Otherwise, it would be seen as internal musing from the narrator. Perhaps if it wasn’t written in the first person it might have felt cleaner, I’m not sure, but as I said it did take a little while to get the hang of it.

Once you get past that, it’s quite a haunting book. I was happy to suspend disbelief for the main premise of the plot, which was that a young girl suddenly acquires the ability to absorb people’s emotions from the food they make. It starts on her birthday when her cheerful, loving mother makes her a lemon cake, and at the first bite all she can taste is sadness and desperation. Hence, the title. It’s a difficult ability to live with, as it permeates every part of her life – she can identify which farms grew produce, which factories put things together, what the mood of the person who was stirring it was.

While I was perfectly happy to accept this ability, though, I was less open to the world of her brother. A gifted yet socially isolated boy, he has moments where he just disappears, and no one can find him until he just as suddenly re-appears, seemingly no worse for wear. When the reason for that was revealed late in the book, I found my suspension of disbelief suddenly voided. Rose, the narrator, had a story I could go along with. Joseph, the brother, though – his story I had much more trouble with.

This, of course, is likely to be something that just bothered me, and there are bound to be thousands of other people who have read this book who have no difficulty with it at all. However, for me it meant that my enjoyment of the book diminished towards the end. While I found the writing style and Rose’s story haunting, evocative and invading my dreams at night, I found Joseph’s story vague, bizarre and obtuse. Sure, the fact that it was told from Rose’s point of view meant that of course the narrative would give more information about her own condition, but I still found it unsatisfying, like it was something the author hadn’t planned and needed to find a resolution to. I’m probably wrong, but that was how it felt to me.

Beside that, I did enjoy this book. The writing is excellent and the plot, particularly as it concerns Rose, is original and thought-provoking. The title got my attention and the story drew me in quickly. I’m only sorry that the ending wasn’t more to my tastes.

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The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, by Aimee Bender
292 pages (paperback)
Published by Windmill Books (UK)
Available on Amazon.com as ebook, hardcover and paperback

Book review: The Harbour, by Francesca Brill

The Harbour, by Francesca Brill

This is a review of the novel The Harbour, by Francesca Brill. Set in Hong Kong during the Second World War, it follows the story of Stevie Steiber, an American journalist, and her illicit affair with British Major Harry Field.

The tale is an intriguing one. With a backdrop of impending war in a colonial outpost foolishly clinging to the belief it is untouchable, we see the frustration of a woman wanting to write something substantial and worthwhile, but forced by circumstance to deliberate on the frivolous antics of the British ruling class. You know, what sort of frocks are being worn to the races, that sort of thing. She is trying to convince some of the area’s most powerful Chinese women to allow her to tell their story, but always there is something in the background that seems to be going against her.

Add to this her quite frankly odd relationship with her editor (they got married to give her Chinese papers, yet he is already married and his wife is quite fine with the affair) and her fateful encounter with Harry Field and you have a fascinating and potentially explosive mix. That said, however, I didn’t really feel it lived up to its potential. Perhaps it was the head-hopping – I have difficulty with more than one or two POVs being shown per scene, and sometimes in this there were five. I understand that Francesca Brill has a background in writing screenplays, which is where this tendency probably comes from, but that doesn’t make it any less dizzying for the reader.I felt that perhaps more effort should have been put into external narration in these cases, as it is perfectly possible to demonstrate what a character is feeling or thinking by describing their actions, and it leads to less of a mosaic of points of view.

The other thing that may have stopped this story from fulfilling its potential is the scant attention paid to the feelings of the main protagonists. This is supposed to be a love affair that transcended everything, breaking up marriages, leading to social ostracism a la Anna Karenina, yet I didn’t really feel it. There was a lot of attention paid to what these people did, but comparatively little on how they felt and how that impacted on their decisions. In other words, the longing that they were supposed to be experiencing just didn’t jump off the page for me. For a book whose cover boasts the quote, “We need more love stories like this,” it was distinctly underwhelming.

Despite these shortcomings, it was a well written book and the story it told was indeed fascinating. As a debut novel it shows a lot of promise, and the characterisation of Stevie in particular was outstanding. I particularly liked her responses to questions about her personal life once the war had finished and how people tried to cope with her decisions  I also liked the depiction of Harry in the POW camp and how he came to do some of the things he did. The truth is that people’s actions, particularly in wartime, are very rarely black and white, and the shades of grey shown in this novel demonstrate that brilliantly.

All in all, I enjoyed  The Harbour. While some aspects of it did disappoint me, it does give an outstanding depiction of life in Hong Kong in the 1940s and the challenges and troubles faced by its inhabitants, and as I said the characterisation was indeed excellent. For a good historical novel about the war in Hong Kong, it’s well worth picking up.

 

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The Harbour, by Francesca Brill
Published by Bloomsbury Publishing
342 pages (paperback)
Available from Amazon.com as  paperback and e-book

Book review: The Scent of Lemon Leaves, by Clara Sanchez

The Scent of Lemon Leaves, by Clara Sanchez

This is a review of the novel The Scent of Lemon Leaves, by Clara Sanchez, a fascinating story of when the present and the past collide.

The story tells the tale of two protagonists – Julian, an octogenarian former concentration camp inmate who has made it his life’s work to hunt down former Nazis to make them pay for their war crimes; and Sandra, a thirty year old woman who finds herself pregnant to a man she doesn’t love, and escapes to the Spanish coast to try to work out what she wants to do with her life. Their paths cross when Sandra meets an elderly Norwegian couple on the beach and strikes up a friendship with them, letting them adopt her (not literally) as a quasi-grandchild, only to discover that Julian is investigating them for their past sins.

I found it a difficult novel to get into, to be honest. I had high expectations from the blurb but the opening chapters didn’t really connect with me. After a while, though, I was hooked to the point that I didn’t want to put the book down. The two points of view have a fascinating juxtaposition, with Sanchez successfully going from the mind of an eighty year old man to a thirty year old woman without skipping a beat. Sometimes, particularly in descriptive sections, the voices were not very different, but then a reaction to something or an offhand comment would remind me forcefully that these were very different people.

Admittedly, some of Sandra’s decisions baffled me, as I would have done something totally different in her shoes. Then again, she and I are of very different character and, importantly, she remained in that character for the duration of the book. The other thing that I occasionally had trouble with was the fact that I am unfamiliar with Spanish customs, and therefore finding offices and shopping centres routinely open at eight in the evening had me scratching my head, until I remembered that in Spain it’s customary to have a siesta in the middle (and hottest part) of the day, and conduct business when it cools down later on. It’s a little thing, but it was just something I had to continually remind myself of so that some of the times used in the story made sense to me.

I don’t want to give the plot away, but I just wanted to mention a few things that really stood out for me. One was the fear Sandra had for the tenant in her sister’s house not far from where the Norwegians, Karin and Frederik, lived, after Karin saw him treat Sandra with disrespect. Another was the respective fates of Elfe, Bolita and Heim; yet another was the revelation at the very end by Elisabeth, also known as the girl on the beach. Finally, the explanation as to why Sandra’s pregnancy was relevant, which I had wondered about – why make her pregnant? What did it add to the story?Each of these revelations was a twist I hadn’t seen coming.

Congratulations must go to Julie Wark, who translated the book from Spanish into English. I have a feeling that a novel like this would have given a translator a few challenges but, unlike some translated books I have read, it flowed like it had been written in English.

All in all, The Scent of Lemon Leaves is a fascinating, intriguing and addictive book, showing the very human side of people the world sees as monsters and how they are, in many ways, just like everyone else. It asks whether it is worth chasing and prosecuting people for war crimes committed sixty or seventy years ago, or whether we should just let nature take its course as it does with everyone. And it shows how seemingly innocuous decisions and events can have repercussions that change your life. It makes you think and it infiltrates your dreams, and I thoroughly recommend it.

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The Scent of Lemon Leaves, by Clara Sanchez
Published by Bloomsbury Publishing
311 pages (paperback)
Available from Amazon.com as  paperback and e-book

Book review: A Lady Cyclist’s Guide to Kashgar, by Suzanne Joinson

 

A Lady Cyclist’s Guide to Kashgar, by Suzanne Joinson

 

This is a review of the book A Lady Cyclist’s Guide to Kashgar, by Suzanne Joinson. The novel follows the story of a female missionary in Kashgar in 1923, interwoven with a thirty-something woman’s search for self in present-day London.

I found this a fascinating read. Both stories hooked me in quite early, though I confess I found the story of present-day Frieda slightly more engaging. This is very likely because it was more relatable to a woman of similar age living in the same period, but it doesn’t make Evangeline, the writer-come-missionary, any less interesting. It was interesting to see how two quite disparate tales could have so many things in common, and it was quite some time before I made the connection of how they could possibly be joined into one story.

The amount of research that must have gone into this novel is staggering. To have the level of detail present in 1920s Kashgar (and elsewhere on the Silk Road) that’s given is incredible, but it doesn’t go to waste – the picture painted of the desert city ninety years ago, and the attitudes and behaviour of its inhabitants, gives a really vivid impression of what it must have been like.  Evangeline’s mix of naiveté and worldliness is also fascinating, but totally believable given her background; things which seem obvious to a 21st century reader are a mystery to her, but there is also a keen understanding of human nature which shines through and helps give her her strength.

Equally, Frieda’s story is full of vivid details that make it come alive and her adventures with Tayeb, the Yemeni refugee who she finds sleeping in her doorway one night, are symptomatic of someone who is still trying to find her way in life. I loved her confusion at inheriting the possessions of Irene Guy, an old woman she’s never heard of, and her attempts at working out the connection between them and of looking after the owl she finds in Irene Guy’s flat.

If there is anything that didn’t quite work for me, it is probably the myriad of minor characters who sprinkle both tales. Because the Kashgar and London stories are told in alternate chapters, they don’t flow as smoothly as they could and sometimes I had to find myself flicking back a chapter or three to work out who Evangeline (or Frieda) was referring to and what their role was. Once I had that sorted out, though, I had little trouble following either woman’s journey.

Overall, it is an epic tale of self discovery, happening over two centuries in two different continents. Both women learn a lot about their place in the worlds along the way, and both women eventually find themselves in situations in which, for once, they feel comfortable, their stories becoming inextricably interwoven along the way. If you like reading well-written, touching stories about adventurous women in very different circumstances, this book is for you.

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A Lady Cyclist’s Guide to Kashgar, by Suzanne Joinson
Published by Bloomsbury Publishing
374 pages (paperback)
Available from Amazon.com as hardcover, paperback and e-book