When I was a kid, I hated books set in historical times. They were so obviously history lessons with a story grafted on, and the story was usually pretty corny or unbelievable too.
Not so Gary Blackwood's trilogy about Widge, the orphan who ends up working for William Shakespeare's acting company. This is no history lesson--although the books are so full of interesting details that I probably learned a lot without realizing it--and they are excellent stories.
In the first book, The Shakespeare Stealer, Widge is apprenticed to Dr. Bright, who teaches him a form of shorthand he calls charactery. Dr. Bright wants Widge to copy sermons from neighboring churches so that he, Dr. Bright, can pass them off as his own. But then a mysterious man who calls himself Falconer offers Dr. Bright an astounding amount of money for Widge. Widge is dragged from his home in Yorkshire to London, where is told to copy Shakespeare's new play Hamlet. Or else.
It's a rolicking adventure, tightly plotted and fast-paced. The two sequels, Shakespeare's Scribe and Shakespeare's Spy, are just as good. In Shakespeare's Scribe, Widge accompanies Shakespeare's acting troupe as they tour outside of London during the height of the summer plague season. In Shakespeare's Spy, someone is stealing from the company and Widge ends up investigating.
Widge is a thoroughly likable character. He lives by his wits but he isn't snarky or spunky or sly (kind of a nice change from so many YA books). He's kind to people because he likes them; he worries when he thinks he's let someone down. He's also struggling with his own journey in life: who he is, who his parents were, what he wants from his future. While the books are funny and adventurous, they realities of life in Elizabethan times give them extra depth. Some of Widge's friends die; others are forced by circumstances to leave the theater or even the country.
Blackwood is such an assured storyteller that nothing seems contrived or false. He weaves historical details into the stories deftly, and makes us care about even minor characters. The third book's ending is a little drawn out, but I didn't mind since Blackwood was tying up loose ends.
The books are full of action--if I tried to list the subplots to even one book, this review would be twice as long--and extremely readable. It looks like the trilogy is available in one volume, incidentally. I've linked to it below. And I'm now off to see what else Gary Blackwood has written.
B&N link
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok
I picked up Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok at the library and enjoyed very much this carefully crafted short novel about a Chinese girl who must work after school in a sweatshop beside her mother to help bring in money.
Jean Kwok knows her subject, having been such a factory worker herself as a young immigrant in New York City. The author, who went on to attend Harvard and Columbia, has told the story of Kimberly and her mother so poignantly and quietly that I found myself blinking back tears more than once.
At the opening of Girl in Translation, Kimberly is eleven and newly arrived in the city with her widowed mother. Aunt Paula, whose husband owns a sewing factory, has paid for her sister and niece's journey to the West and is happy to exploit the naive newcomers in the sweatshop. She finds them a tenement apartment that has no heat but does have cockroaches and mice, and she takes most of their paycheck for herself. The mother, who is being illegally paid by the piece instead of by the hour, is forced to bring Kimberly to the shop after school each day to help finish more pieces for income.
The public school the girl attends by day is mystifying and sometimes brutal. Her teacher is incompetent and prejudiced, and New York accents are hardly decipherable by a girl whose only English is from textbooks, but Kimberly is brilliant and her aptitude for science and mathematics eventually comes to the attention of the principal.
This is not deep writing, although it is well written and satisfying. The characters are well developed, understandable and likable. How Kimberly manages to triumph over incredible odds--she realizes that she must save her mother and herself using her gift for scholarship--makes for a touching and satisfying story.
B&N link
Jean Kwok knows her subject, having been such a factory worker herself as a young immigrant in New York City. The author, who went on to attend Harvard and Columbia, has told the story of Kimberly and her mother so poignantly and quietly that I found myself blinking back tears more than once.
At the opening of Girl in Translation, Kimberly is eleven and newly arrived in the city with her widowed mother. Aunt Paula, whose husband owns a sewing factory, has paid for her sister and niece's journey to the West and is happy to exploit the naive newcomers in the sweatshop. She finds them a tenement apartment that has no heat but does have cockroaches and mice, and she takes most of their paycheck for herself. The mother, who is being illegally paid by the piece instead of by the hour, is forced to bring Kimberly to the shop after school each day to help finish more pieces for income.
The public school the girl attends by day is mystifying and sometimes brutal. Her teacher is incompetent and prejudiced, and New York accents are hardly decipherable by a girl whose only English is from textbooks, but Kimberly is brilliant and her aptitude for science and mathematics eventually comes to the attention of the principal.
This is not deep writing, although it is well written and satisfying. The characters are well developed, understandable and likable. How Kimberly manages to triumph over incredible odds--she realizes that she must save her mother and herself using her gift for scholarship--makes for a touching and satisfying story.
B&N link
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Heroes Return by Moira J. Moore
Heroes Return is the fifth book in this series, which starts with Resenting the Hero. The books have terrible covers, particularly the first two. Ignore the covers. The books themselves are quite interesting.
Despite the covers' attempts to make the series look like wacky, wacky fairy-tale fantasies, the books are much more SFnal than fantasy, or they were until the last two books when magic starts getting more attention. Briefly, this is a world beset by dangerous natural disasters--earthquakes, typhoons, erupting volcanoes--that are severe enough and common enough that they would destroy civilization if it weren't for Sources and Shields. Sources are people with the ability to channel natural disasters and dissipate them harmlessly, while Shields keep the Sources from being ripped apart in the process. Sources and Shields work best when bonded for life.
It's a fascinating concept, and the main reason why I keep reading. The books follow Shield Dunleavy Mallorough--Lee--and her Source, Shintaro Karish, known as Taro. Lee is the calm one of the duo, while Taro is often fretful and emotional. In fact, since Shields tend to have slightly dulled senses and placid demeanors, Lee makes for an interesting main character. I can never really be sure if her inability to notice bad guys acting blatantly is a result of her character--in which case Moore is a brilliant writer--or if it's just clumsy characterization. I go back and forth on it. It's certainly frustrating. I do long for the day when Lee stops just thinking those snappish thoughts and actually starts speaking her mind--please--or hopefully just hauls off and slugs some irritating character in the face.
A lot of the characters in these books are irritating, abrasive, or just plain hateful. I like Lee and Taro (although so much of their issues could be cleared up if only they'd have a meaningful discussion instead of Lee being silent and Taro jumping to conclusions), but I rarely like anyone else. And yet I snap up the next book as soon as it's available--I snagged this one early and have set up this review to run (hopefully) on July 27 when it's officially released--and drop everything else to read it immediately.
Heroes Return is an excellent addition to the series. Lee and Taro have been posted to Taro's distant boyhood home, home to his poisonous mother, the Dowager Duchess. Taro has renounced his title and passed it on to a cousin, but his mother seems convinced she can make him change his mind. This unsettles Lee, who worries about Taro and who really doesn't want to spend the rest of her life in the middle of nowhere too. Not only that, but the Emperor seems convinced that the townsfolk and farmers of the area are working magic illegally and sends his agents to root out and punish practitioners, someone seems to be trying to kill Lee, and Lee and Taro are having trouble channeling the region's earthquakes properly. Unlike several of the previous books, this one kept me guessing about what was really going on. The relationship between Lee and Taro is as usual both sweet and maddening.
The books can be read out of order, but you'll run across a lot of spoilers that way. I recommend the whole series, though.
B&N link
Despite the covers' attempts to make the series look like wacky, wacky fairy-tale fantasies, the books are much more SFnal than fantasy, or they were until the last two books when magic starts getting more attention. Briefly, this is a world beset by dangerous natural disasters--earthquakes, typhoons, erupting volcanoes--that are severe enough and common enough that they would destroy civilization if it weren't for Sources and Shields. Sources are people with the ability to channel natural disasters and dissipate them harmlessly, while Shields keep the Sources from being ripped apart in the process. Sources and Shields work best when bonded for life.
It's a fascinating concept, and the main reason why I keep reading. The books follow Shield Dunleavy Mallorough--Lee--and her Source, Shintaro Karish, known as Taro. Lee is the calm one of the duo, while Taro is often fretful and emotional. In fact, since Shields tend to have slightly dulled senses and placid demeanors, Lee makes for an interesting main character. I can never really be sure if her inability to notice bad guys acting blatantly is a result of her character--in which case Moore is a brilliant writer--or if it's just clumsy characterization. I go back and forth on it. It's certainly frustrating. I do long for the day when Lee stops just thinking those snappish thoughts and actually starts speaking her mind--please--or hopefully just hauls off and slugs some irritating character in the face.
A lot of the characters in these books are irritating, abrasive, or just plain hateful. I like Lee and Taro (although so much of their issues could be cleared up if only they'd have a meaningful discussion instead of Lee being silent and Taro jumping to conclusions), but I rarely like anyone else. And yet I snap up the next book as soon as it's available--I snagged this one early and have set up this review to run (hopefully) on July 27 when it's officially released--and drop everything else to read it immediately.
Heroes Return is an excellent addition to the series. Lee and Taro have been posted to Taro's distant boyhood home, home to his poisonous mother, the Dowager Duchess. Taro has renounced his title and passed it on to a cousin, but his mother seems convinced she can make him change his mind. This unsettles Lee, who worries about Taro and who really doesn't want to spend the rest of her life in the middle of nowhere too. Not only that, but the Emperor seems convinced that the townsfolk and farmers of the area are working magic illegally and sends his agents to root out and punish practitioners, someone seems to be trying to kill Lee, and Lee and Taro are having trouble channeling the region's earthquakes properly. Unlike several of the previous books, this one kept me guessing about what was really going on. The relationship between Lee and Taro is as usual both sweet and maddening.
The books can be read out of order, but you'll run across a lot of spoilers that way. I recommend the whole series, though.
B&N link
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Reviewed by Sin - HIRAM GRANGE: The Chosen One
Hiram Grange: The Chosen One
By Kevin Lucia
Shroud Publishing
Gore: Not only do I have no complaints, I would recommend the shower of carnage to friends and loved ones!
Sex: Actual humping, no. But rest assured, this book is not for prudish readers.
Angst: One of the most likable things about Hiram is his angst.
Since I haven't read the previous Hiram Grange adventures (each by a different author), I can't comment on this novella in the context of the Hiram spectrum. I can say that he is a great antihero, and more than a bit of a filthy pervert. While Hiram may lack the brute masculinity of say, Wolverine, that only makes him more fun (and more human). Hiram is a social oddity, as much for his physical appearance as his very special profession: kicking supernatural ass. Tall, gangly, and greasy-haired, you won't see Mr. Grange on the cover of any bodice rippers. His nose alone would take up most of the cover. And yet, at this very moment, he could very well be having sex with your mother. Providing, of course, that she can still fit into a naughty school-girl outfit.
Just try not to think about it. I'm sure she's not having sex with Hiram Grange. Probably. In any case, I was relieved that "The Chosen One" stood on its own. Lucia does an expert job of weaving in backstory from previous Hiram novellas, without exaggerating the fact that the "Chosen One" is part of a series. I was especially impressed with the action scenes. They were so smoothly written that I could follow along, without the usual "what the fuck just happened?" feeling every three seconds. I hate having to reread something a hundred times, just to figure out who shot/stabbed/exploded what in the where. It ruins the momentum, as anyone who has read a poorly written action sequence can attest to.
Once you get to the meat of the story, don't expect to get up any time soon. I only meant to read "a little more" before bed, and ended up shot-gunning the rest of the book. I had to. There was no, "Oh this is a nice quiet moment," once the shit really hit the fan. One of the key factors to this is Hiram himself. If an author crafts brilliant scenes without a character worth rooting for, it's all bullshit. I rooted for Hiram. Underneath the ill-fitting suit and self-deprecation, he is a sweet man stuck with a job that would drive most people to madness. His "bad habits" are entirely understandable, and even endearing. This is a testament to Lucia's talent: To know Hiram is to love him, and Lucia bares the man in all his most vulnerable, and at times tragic, glory. I recommend this book to anyone who wants a story that doesn't skimp on the heart or the guts.
And as for your mother, well, the woman has needs.
Shroud Publishing link
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Books in the Mail
Just like the big book bloggers do, here's a 'books received' post. I had to throw in a contributor's copy I received this week to make it more than one book, but it's the thought that counts.
Received July 2010:
The King's Bastard by Rowena Cory Daniells (Solaris)
From the back cover:
Only seven minutes younger than Rolencia's heir, Byren has never hungered for the throne. He laughs when a seer predicts that he will kill his twin. But the royal heir resents Byren's growing popularity. Across the land the untamed magic of the gods wells up out of the earth's heart. It sends exotic creatures to stalk the wintry nights and it twists men's minds, granting them terrible visions. Those so touched are sent to the Abbey to control their gift, or die. At King Rolen's court enemies plot to take his throne, even as secrets within his own household threaten to tear his family apart.
Political intrigue and magic combine in this explosive first book in an exciting new fantasy trilogy.
Time in a Bottle, Volume I, edited by Paul Wittine (Altered Dimensions)
An anthology of stories with a theme of time. Contributors include Jim C. Hines, whose story is about Jig the Goblin as a baby, Lyn McConchie, Jordan Lapp, and, well, K.C. Shaw, who is writing this post.
Books received at Skunk Cat are distributed to the reviewer most likely to read, enjoy, and review the book in question. We can't promise to review every book received, although we try.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
The Magicians by Lev Grossman
Jackie read The Magicians last year and liked it so much she bought me a copy for Christmas. Here's her review.
I finally got around to reading it myself. Jackie's review sums up quite well what I felt about it, for the most part. On balance, I liked it very much: I loved the first part, where Quentin's a student at Brakebills College for Magical Pedagogy, which is almost half the book; the second half just devolves into a spiral of depression and philosophy and an extended section that reads like a scripted D&D adventure--probably on purpose, but I wasn't impressed.
The writing is very good throughout, but Grossman seems more interested in exploring his world than in making us care about it. As Jackie pointed out in her review, none of the characters are particularly likable, but I found most of them fascinating in one way or another. I liked Quentin until he graduated and turned into all the shiftless, drunken twenty-something guys I've ever known, and then in the latter sections of the book he just has no personality whatsoever. I should point out that I'm one of those people who cries very easily, especially when I'm reading, even when I'm reading really stupid books that I shouldn't be so emotionally invested in. But I didn't shed a single tear while reading The Magicians.
I'm trying hard to pinpoint my dissatisfaction with the book without making it sound like I was dissatisfied throughout. I can't stress enough how brilliant the first half of the book is. It perfectly captures the feeling of being a bright, unhappy college student without a meaningful future; it even perfectly captures the way bright, unhappy twenty-something guys act after college when their meaningless future turns into a meaningless present. It's when the story turns more definitively to fantasy that it falls apart. I got the impression that Grossman just didn't quite know how to end a book that's basically about how people remain unhappy even when they've got everything they've ever wanted.
It's a bleak book, but it's often very funny. The worldbuilding is excellent. And on a plus side, it probably won't make you cry.
B&N link
I finally got around to reading it myself. Jackie's review sums up quite well what I felt about it, for the most part. On balance, I liked it very much: I loved the first part, where Quentin's a student at Brakebills College for Magical Pedagogy, which is almost half the book; the second half just devolves into a spiral of depression and philosophy and an extended section that reads like a scripted D&D adventure--probably on purpose, but I wasn't impressed.
The writing is very good throughout, but Grossman seems more interested in exploring his world than in making us care about it. As Jackie pointed out in her review, none of the characters are particularly likable, but I found most of them fascinating in one way or another. I liked Quentin until he graduated and turned into all the shiftless, drunken twenty-something guys I've ever known, and then in the latter sections of the book he just has no personality whatsoever. I should point out that I'm one of those people who cries very easily, especially when I'm reading, even when I'm reading really stupid books that I shouldn't be so emotionally invested in. But I didn't shed a single tear while reading The Magicians.
I'm trying hard to pinpoint my dissatisfaction with the book without making it sound like I was dissatisfied throughout. I can't stress enough how brilliant the first half of the book is. It perfectly captures the feeling of being a bright, unhappy college student without a meaningful future; it even perfectly captures the way bright, unhappy twenty-something guys act after college when their meaningless future turns into a meaningless present. It's when the story turns more definitively to fantasy that it falls apart. I got the impression that Grossman just didn't quite know how to end a book that's basically about how people remain unhappy even when they've got everything they've ever wanted.
It's a bleak book, but it's often very funny. The worldbuilding is excellent. And on a plus side, it probably won't make you cry.
B&N link
Sunday, July 11, 2010
The Blood of Flowers by Anita Amirrezvani
The author of The Blood of Flowers was given an Iranian rug by her father when she was fourteen, and she began imagining what life might have been like for those who made it. The result is a fascinating novel about early 17th century Persia. The book took nine years to write. During that time, the author says in her notes, "I felt like Ali Baba in The Arabian Nights, who utters the magic words 'Open, sesame!' to reveal a cave illuminated by gold and precious gems."
The heroine of the novel is deliberately unnamed to "honor the anonymous artisans of Iran." She is a village girl of fourteen when the story opens, a nimble and creative rug-maker. Her indulgent parents adore her, but when her father suddenly dies, she and her mother are forced to travel to a great city where their only male relative lives, for in this male-dominated society women are possessions, owned and hidden away by men, and women without the protection of men are quickly reduced to begging or prostitution.
The girl's uncle is a wealthy master rug maker who designs rugs for the Shah's court. Soon after his brother's widow and her daughter are taken into his household, he discovers the girl's talent in rug making and design and allows her to learn his secrets.
The world of ancient Persia is beautifully described in this book. I savored the descriptions of the dazzling minarets, the markets where rugs and spices were sold, the lovely clothing worn by women in their secret courtyards.
Because she has no money for a dowry, the girl is forced by her family into a marriage contract still used in modern Iran today, a renewable three-month contract for a fee. Her hopes for a permanent marriage must be given up for money to support her and her mother.
The story of her misfortunes and fortunes is accompanied by lovely, magical tales of old Persia, and is a fascinating and richly detailed novel about an exotic and fascinating world.
B&N link
The heroine of the novel is deliberately unnamed to "honor the anonymous artisans of Iran." She is a village girl of fourteen when the story opens, a nimble and creative rug-maker. Her indulgent parents adore her, but when her father suddenly dies, she and her mother are forced to travel to a great city where their only male relative lives, for in this male-dominated society women are possessions, owned and hidden away by men, and women without the protection of men are quickly reduced to begging or prostitution.
The girl's uncle is a wealthy master rug maker who designs rugs for the Shah's court. Soon after his brother's widow and her daughter are taken into his household, he discovers the girl's talent in rug making and design and allows her to learn his secrets.
The world of ancient Persia is beautifully described in this book. I savored the descriptions of the dazzling minarets, the markets where rugs and spices were sold, the lovely clothing worn by women in their secret courtyards.
Because she has no money for a dowry, the girl is forced by her family into a marriage contract still used in modern Iran today, a renewable three-month contract for a fee. Her hopes for a permanent marriage must be given up for money to support her and her mother.
The story of her misfortunes and fortunes is accompanied by lovely, magical tales of old Persia, and is a fascinating and richly detailed novel about an exotic and fascinating world.
B&N link
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
