Book log archives - February 2008

Archives - February 2008

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John Dickinson, The Cup of the World, The Widow and the King: Phaedra, the beautiful daughter of the Warden of Trant, knows that she must marry, but none of her suitors can live up to the mysterious man she has met for years in her dreams. When she chooses to elope with him, she finds that he is a sorcerer and the son of a feared noble family, and their marriage sets off an explosive chain of events, which continues on into the sequel, The Widow and the King. I found these slow to start, but very absorbing. The style is terse and elegant, and the atmosphere is unsettlingly creepy, particularly in the first book, as Phaedra learns more and more about her husband and his powers. I thought The Widow and the King didn't quite live up to the first book; the pacing was a little too slow, and the alternating POVs didn't hold me as well as Phaedra's sole POV, but the worldbuilding and atmosphere remained excellent.
P.L. Travers, Mary Poppins from A to Z, Mary Poppins in the Kitchen: a pair of slight but cute additions to the Mary Poppins books, recently reprinted. The A to Z simply has two pages per letter, with a small story featuring that letter and a Mary Shepard illustration. Mary Poppins in the Kitchen has a little bit of a story to go along with it; Mr. and Mrs. Banks, Mrs. Brill, and Ellen are all away, and Mary Poppins and the children must do the cooking for the week. Various characters from other books show up to help, and there are recipes, once again from A to Z. When Liam is older and has read the Mary Poppins books, perhaps we'll try some of the recipes, which are clearly intended for kids. (Though if I had some gold stars, I might try making the Gingerbread Stars and see if Mrs. Corry shows up one night to collect the gold stars and paste them up in the sky.)
Deborah Crombie, the Kincaid and James detective series: I reread all of them before reading the latest, Water Like a Stone, new in paperback. The first four are fairly standard, though good, British police procedurals, with a growing current of romantic tension between the two leads, Detective Superintendent Duncan Kincaid and his partner Sergeant Gemma James. The fifth book, Dreaming of the Bones, is the breakout book in the series, I think; Kincaid's ex-wife draws Kincaid into a literary mystery, as Kincaid and Gemma's relationship becomes deeper. I like how Crombie's characters grow and develop, even those who are only in one book; their histories matter, and their choices. History is generally important, in fact, as each book evokes the past as well as the present; Dreaming of the Bones has echoes of Rupert Brooke and his circle and of WWI, while Kissed a Sad Goodbye remembers WWII and the bombings and evacuations. I didn't actually think that the newest book was quite as good as some of the older ones, but still, this is an excellent series, reminiscent of Elizabeth George, but not nearly so depressing (I stopped reading George several books ago).
Robin Hobb, Shaman's Crossing, Forest Mage, Renegade's Magic: I read Shaman's Crossing when it came out a couple of years ago and mostly liked it, with some reservations about its very slow pace. I figured that the pace was due to its being the first of the trilogy, and that once she'd set everything up, things would start to happen faster in the second and third books. Unfortunately, the slow pace continues; combined with the relative passivity of the first-person narrator, this made me almost stop reading the books, because it felt like nothing happened until nearly the end of each book.

Hobb's worldbuilding is still very good; I liked that she got away from the all-too-usual medieval-ish setting and came up with something more like the American frontier in the 1800s, with several complex cultures set against each other. But I wish there'd been less description and more movement to go with the interesting setting. I've read all of her books (all of those written as Robin Hobb, anyway), and these are definitely my least favorites of them; I'm not sure I'll ever reread them.
P.G. Wodehouse, The Luck of the Bodkins: This is a top-notch Wodehouse. Oh, sure, it doesn't have Jeeves and Wooster or Lord Emsworth and Duchess or even Psmith, but who cares? It does have Monty Bodkin (whom I encountered in Heavy Weather as one of Lord Emsworth's endless string of secretaries) and an extra complicated, extra delightful plot, which takes place mostly on a ship from England to America. Wodehouse is at the top of his form with his marvelous idiom, beginning with the very first, irresistible sentence: "Into the face of the young man who sat on the terrace of the Hotel Magnifique at Cannes there had crept a look of furtive shame, the shifty, hangdog look which announces that an Englishman is about to talk French." It's sheer hilarity from cover to cover, and wonderfully, it's even a little longer than most Wodehouse novels, a lovely bonus.
Charlotte Mosley, ed., The Mitfords: Letters Between Six Sisters: I've been waiting for this for what seems like forever and then had to keep myself from devouring it once I got it. It's a fat hardback and generally blissful; of course I've read many of Nancy's and Decca's letters, but I really loved reading Deborah's (the youngest sister and eventual keeper of the family archives). I find I still do not get on with Diana, in spite of her intelligence and wit, because her political views and devotion to the loathsome Mosley are really indefensible, but I rather expected this reaction from myself after reading her autobiography several months ago. It was interesting to see how each sister interacted with each other sister, the various closenesses and rivalries and alliances and infighting.
Lettice Cooper, National Provincial: In the late 1930s, Mary Welburn is forced to interrupt her successful London career to return her hometown in the industrial north of England and take care of her mother when her sister marries; soon she and a cast of sharply observed characters are caught up in a provincial political struggle with national implications. National Provincial has echoes both of Winifred Holtby's South Riding (protagonist returns to provincial town of origin) and of Cooper's own The New House (protagonist is expected to take care of her aging mother). This was a tough book to find (it's long out of print), but worth the effort. I especially liked Cooper's engagement with the characters' political beliefs and her examination of the differences (some very small) between various social classes.
Margaret Forster, Lady's Maid (reread): I felt like rereading this after reading Woolf's Flush, since they both have to do with Elizabeth Barrett and Robert Browning from the point of view of more minor players in their story. Forster's novel is about Lily Wilson, Barrett's longtime maid, who joined Barrett in 1844, helped her elope to Italy, and stayed with her as maid and nursemaid to the Brownings' son Pen until 1861. As you'd expect, Lady's Maid is very good on class differences and the role of women in Victorian times, and the characterization and historical background are excellent. I think maybe soon I'll reread Forster's biography of Barrett Browning, which I recall being quite good (though it's been years since I read it).
Pamela Brown, The Swish of the Curtain: A group of talented children comes together to form the Blue Door Theatre Company. I figured I would like this, because I do like backstage-type books (like Noel Streatfeild), and I did, though oddly, it took me a while to get into, perhaps because it took a while to get to know each of the characters. I did like how the group's experience with creating and acting their own plays turns into, possibly, actual careers, rather than just being a one-time or holiday thing, and it makes me particularly eager to track down and read the sequels. (Though since they're all out of print, I think that's going to take me forever.)
Adam Stemple and Jane Yolen, Pay the Piper: In spite of various recommendations and good reviews, I can't say that I was terribly interested by this tale of a teenager who takes on a faerie rock band. Maybe I'm just burned out on urban elf books? I rather liked the Pied Piper conceit, but there just wasn't enough else there to interest me.
Georgette Heyer, The Reluctant Widow: On her way to take up a governess position, Elinor Rochdale gets into the wrong carriage; she arrives at an isolated country house, where she meets Lord Carlyon, who manages to persuade her to marry his ailing cousin Eustace, who's soon to die. His death precipitates Elinor, Carlyon, and Carlyon's younger brother Nicky into an adventure involving murder, espionage, and secret passages. I thought the romance could have been made more of; it's very understated, and the hero and heroine are certainly not among my favorites of Heyer's. But I loved several of the minor characters (Nicky, and the foppish Francis) and thought the rollicking plot was very entertaining; I caught myself laughing out loud more than I normally do with Heyer.
Justina Chen Headley, Nothing but the Truth (and a Few White Lies): Half-white, half-Asian Patty Ho is sick and tired of being out of place; she doesn't fit in with either side of her heritage, at school or at home. She's horrified when she finds out her mom signed her up for math camp at Stanford, but when she gets there, it seems like she's finally found somewhere she can learn to be herself. I really liked the direct, honest way Headley tackles racial issues, and her exploration of Patty's various relationships (particularly with her mother and her aunt Lu). I thought the style was a touch too facile and flippant occasionally and wanted a deeper look at Patty's family history and some of the supporting characters, but on the whole, I enjoyed it a lot and am looking forward to reading Headley's second novel, Girl Overboard.
Joan Aiken, Morningquest: When Pandora Crumbe's mother dies while she and Pandora are visiting the Morningquest family, Pandora is unofficially unadopted by the Morningquests and grows up among their large, eccentric, musical family. Unfortunately, though the characters are interesting, there's such a multitude of them that Aiken doesn't really spend enough time on anyone; there are frequent jumps in time, and a lot of what happens to Pandora and the Morningquests feels sketchy. I enjoyed it, but I thought another hundred or so pages would have made it much more enjoyable.
Joan Aiken, The Smile of the Stranger (reread): the first of three related books about the Paget family (not so closely related that they must be read in order, but interesting that way). Juliana Paget is the daughter of an Englishman who lives in self-imposed exile in Europe after a family disagreement. When a mysterious Englishwoman arrives in Florence, Juliana's father insists that they flee back to England (via a wonderful hot air balloon escape), where he hopes to be reconciled with his family...and where Juliana is drawn into a sinister plot to steal her inheritance. It's a Regency romp with Gothic overtones, and a lot of fun.
Joan Aiken, The Weeping Ash: far more Gothic than The Smile of the Stranger, this second in the Paget family series follows two distinct plot threads which come together explosively at the end. When 16-year-old Fanny marries 48-year-old Thomas Paget, they go to live at the Hermitage, while its owner, Thomas's cousin Juliana (from the previous book), is away in Europe. Fanny doesn't take long to realize the error she made in marrying the brutal Thomas, who controls her just as he controls his daughters, his mother, and even the ash tree outside their window, which he has tied down to prevent its growing up to seek the light. While Fanny is learning to deal with her new life, so are Thomas's cousins Cal and Scylla, who have grown up in India but must leave hurriedly and make a dangerous journey back to England. I occasionally have trouble with books with parallel plot threads, ending up more interested in one than the other, but Aiken kept me interested in both and tied them together very nicely at the end (though the climax did feel a bit rushed). The Gothic atmosphere in this book is particularly effective; Fanny feels the pain of the imprisoned tree as her own pain, while Scylla and Cal dream of it along their own dangerous journey.


Last updated 13 May 2008. All text and photographs © George Mitchell and Margaret Johnston, unless otherwise noted Comments, questions, suggestions to margaret@lonelymountain.net.