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 As a result of an unfortunate accident with another boy, young Prince Patroclus is exiled from his homeland and sent to grow up in a foreign land with a set of strangers. In Phithia, his new home, he is merely one of many boys growing up under the shadow of the king and his half-god son, Achilles. Almost immediately, Achilles takes Patroclus under his wing and draws him into a new, mythical world, where Achilles is destined to become the world’s greatest warrior and Patroclus his steadfast, fervent lover.
I can’t do justice to this book with my review. It is simply incredible – moving, emotional, mythical, and simultaneously epic and close in scope at the exact same time. If I had to say one thing to you about it, I would say, please read it, it is incredible.
Let’s start with the setting. The Trojan War is relatively familiar for people versed in mythology and literature; if not, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Trojan horse and the face that launched a thousand ships. This takes place around that war, primarily because it is there that Achilles will become a legend. This is The Iliad, but personal, close, and loving; for the first time I felt like I could understand Achilles and Patroclus’s relationship and just how they got to that final, brutal, excruciating point of both their lives.
This is truly a fantastic retelling, one that manages to be both timeless and relevant. Achilles and Patroclus have existed for thousands of years in readers’ minds, but in our society today, many people wish that a relationship like theirs would not exist – a travesty, if you ask me – but a book like this demonstrates just how beautiful that relationship can be, and moreover, how appropriate. It’s partly a romance, writ large on the world stage as these two players tangle with gods and the most powerful of men.
Speaking of gods, there are plenty here, and they walk the world right alongside the characters. Patroclus and Achilles encounter figures of their own legend, like those who trained Hercules, and Achilles’s mother Thetis is a goddess. Their power is appropriately terrifying, especially for Patroclus, who has the dubious role of keeping Achilles from fathering further children, and thus earns his mother’s wrath.
For anyone who may have the slightest interest in a literary, romantic take on The Iliad – The Song of Achilles is a book for you. Very highly recommended.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review.
 Barbara is a young Polish orphan when she enters the Russian royal palace seeking the assistance of Empress Elizabeth, who once vowed to help her. Barbara, called Varvara by the Russians, is taken on as a spy, trained by the Chancellor in hearing careless remarks, sneaking down passages, deciphering facial expressions, and making love. When young Sophie comes to court as a bride for the Empress’s heir, Varvara is placed near her, urged to watch her every move. Sophie is not merely a docile bride for the future Tsar; she is the future Catherine the Great, and every disappointment she endures as a young woman is merely fuel for the great reign she will have over Russia.
Russia has always enchanted me, and lately it seems that it has enchanted many readers, too; after the popularity of Robert K. Massie’s newly released biography of Catherine the Great, The Winter Palace has arrived as an excellent fictional retelling of Catherine the Great’s life, capturing another tier of readers with the enthralling story of this Empress of All the Russias. This is the first of two halves, covering the period from Catherine’s arrival to the Russian court as Sophie, an obscure German princess, to her triumph as Empress Catherine the second.
Stachniak’s approach, showing us Catherine through the eyes of a woman who was her friend, is a very clever one, because it not only introduces us to a character we can care about, who is aware of all of the secrets in all aspects of Russian courtly life, but it also lets us view Catherine’s development through another pair of eyes. Varvara could have become a mute vehicle for Catherine, but instead she is a fully fleshed out character in her own right, with her own mistakes, successes, and loves outside of Catherine’s sphere. Her position makes her vulnerable and powerful simultaneously; as a bookbinder’s daughter with access to the most powerful people in Russia, she suffers from this odd dichotomy more than once. It’s easy to feel for her, especially when she uses the agency she has to make the wrong decisions, the repercussions of which she only comes to understand later on.
Of course, it’s probably Catherine who should be considered the star of the show here; from a young girl studying relentlessly in her room to understand Russian language and culture to a woman conscious of her power, she undergoes radical change in the course of this book. But because Varvara is close to her, it’s never hard to understand how that change has happened. We can almost witness her hardening, her learning, her ferocity growing as the politics begin to change and warp her innocence. The end of the book confirms that, perhaps, it happens sooner than we’d like to think, but it is a fascinating journey nonetheless.
All of this excellent character development is wrapped up in the gorgeous settings of the Russian court, beautiful trappings for a scheming court. It’s easy to get lost in Stachniak’s writing and her evocative descriptions. The story is smoothly crafted, too; there were a few moments towards the middle of the book where I got impatient, mainly because I knew what was going to happen and I didn’t like waiting, but looking back, I think everything was necessary for the plot to wrap up completely. My mood matched that of the characters.
An excellent choice for historical fiction readers, especially those who are eager to learn about Russia or Catherine the Great. Highly recommended.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book free for review from Amazon Vine.
Today I’m thrilled to welcome Eva Stachniak, the author of The Winter Palace, to Medieval Bookworm, on the little things that make history come alive for novelists.
Once in a while one comes across a sentence that makes history alive in ways one hasn’t anticipated. As a writer, I find such instances priceless, for they allow me to imagine aspects of my characters’ lives in ways I might have overlooked.
In her Memoirs, which she attempted to write a few times, thus giving the posterity several versions of her early life, Catherine the Great describes a palace fire she witnessed from the safety of her carriage when she was still the Grand Duchess of Russia. The description is quite conventional at first: the burning balustrade, the furniture being hastily carried out, the servants’ desperate attempts to salvage as much as possible, the heat of the burning building becoming more and more impossible to bear. But for me the whole scene becomes truly alive at the moment Catherine writes: “Then I saw a singular thing. It was the astonishing number of rats and mice that descended the staircase in a line, without even really hurrying.”
The image of rodents in single file leaving the burning palace made me think of life in these mice-infested dwellings. What would I see if I were there? Droppings everywhere? Mice scurrying along the walls? Hiding in shoes? Among fire logs? Rats drowning in jugs of cream? I started researching ways people tried to protect themselves from vermin: placing dried rosemary sprigs in their linen drawers, covering food in the pantry with heavy lids, placing bed legs in basins of water.
After a little bit of such digging, I was not surprised to find out that the Winter Palace was a home to over a hundred of palace cats. Catherine’s predecessor, Empress Elizabeth Petrovna, I discovered, loved cats and encouraged them to settle in the palace. Some travelers report seeing Elizabeth’s cats dressed in velvet suits, lolling about on her bed. Others complain that the imperial felines were so well-fed that they didn’t even try to catch mice. Soon I collected enough references to the palace cats to begin imagining their traces. There must have been hair on the furniture, smudges left by their whiskers on the window panes. There must have been endearing antics in their favourite spots: by the fireplaces, in the laundry room where fresh linen was kept. They must have claimed their spots on Elizabeth Petrovna’s shoes, or on her bed.
The cats made the Winter Palace vivid in my mind.
 A little more about the author: Eva Stachniak was born in Wroclaw, Poland, and came to Canada in 1981. She has been a radio broadcaster and college English and Humanities lecturer. Her debut novel, Necessary Lies, won the Amazon.com/Books in Canada First Novel Award, and her second novel, Garden of Venus, has been translated into seven languages. Her third novel, The Winter Palace, has been published in Canada (Doubleday), US (Bantam) and the UK (Transworld). She lives in Toronto, where she is working on her second historical novel about Catherine the Great, The Empire of the Night.
Don’t forget to come back tomorrow for my review of the book!
 Living in a stall, selling carpets, is not really what one dreams of at night, no matter how successful. In Abdullah’s dreams, he is a prince, destined to marry a beautiful Arabian princess. But they’re just dreams, until one day, a merchant walks by Abdullah’s stall bearing a magic carpet. Abdullah can hardly believe his luck, even as he doubts the merchant, but he buys the carpet regardless and sleeps on it to ensure no one steals it. To his surprise, he wakes up in the garden of a castle, with a beautiful princess, Flower-in-the-Night, by his side. Abdullah quickly falls in love, but his dreams shatter when Flower-in-the-Night is stolen by a djinn. He must travel far and wide, to another castle in a foreign land, to save his princess before she is wed to another.
How I didn’t read Diana Wynne Jones until last year is a complete mystery to me. She writes the type of books that I would have completely fallen in love with as a young adult – not that this means I love them any less now, but my younger self could have spent days wading through her books, off in various dream worlds inspired by these books. I loved Howl’s Moving Castle, which I read last year, and so it’s no surprise that I also enjoyed Castle in the Air – though not quite as much.
This book felt very much like a fairy tale to me, though also distinctly reminiscent of the Arabian Nights series of stories, especially in the beginning. As Abdullah’s quest takes him off north, he meets a number of curious individuals who scramble this somewhat, including a renegade soldier, a cat who seems to turn into a massive feline when she or her kitten is threatened, and a genie in a bottle.
As his journey begins to come to an end, he starts to realize that everyone has put up an illusion of some kind, and nothing is quite what it seems – but none of this is at all bad for him or for those concerned. Diana Wynne Jones seems to take some pleasure in turning stereotypes on their heads while emphasizing core strong ideals with honorable characters, which makes these perfect reads for young adults.
Though the sequel to Howl’s Moving Castle, it takes a good long while for any connections to become obvious. They’re clear by the end, but this is very much its own book, and can be read on its own. (Although why you’d want to, I’m not sure.) It’s still a very good read, and I’m looking forward to continuing with the third of this series.
All external book links are affiliate links. I purchased this book.
 Isn’t it fantastic when an author sends you little goodies to promote their products? I’ll be reviewing Christine Blevins’s newest book, The Turning of Anne Merrick, in a couple of weeks for the blog tour put together by Historical Fiction Virtual Book Tours, and Christine sent along a lovely little collection of items designed to get readers in the mood for the seventeenth century while enjoying her historical novels.
 That’s two little bags of tea, one from before the Revolution, and one from during, small scented lavender soap, two bayberry candles, and a letter. This was such a fun package to open and I was particularly impressed that it came across the pond to me. Last time I reviewed The Tory Widow, Christine also sent along a couple of surprises, but I hadn’t expected it this time. I’m looking forward to the book even more now!
Secondly, I’ve developed a surprisingly intense desire to read more science fiction, but my own shelves seem a bit empty when it comes to this – I’ve got one book left by John Scalzi after reading all of his, and another book left in the Miles Vorkosigan series by Lois McMaster Bujold. I also have Leviathan Wakes sitting on my shelf. I’m only not participating in Carl’s Science Fiction Experience because I always fail when challenges are made official, but I’d love to know what you’d recommend to me to add to the shelves, as I know I’ve read nowhere near enough.
Have a wonderful Sunday and a fantastic week, everyone!
 Humans will never stop trying to find a cure for death and disease. In Rhine’s world, scientists thought they’d figured it out – until they realized that the disease simply killed everyone, girls at 20 and boys at 25. Just four years before her inevitable death, orphaned Rhine is kidnapped from her twin brother and married to wealthy Linden with two other stolen sister-brides. Rhine longs for nothing more than to escape – the last thing she wants to do is bear Linden’s baby and spend the rest of her life under the thumb of his scheming, aging father as he attempts to find the cure for the disease that kills all of the perfect generation.
I so badly wanted to like this book. It caused a huge splash when it came out, and I’m not capable of resisting dystopias that sound awesome – plus, when it arrived as part of my Secret Santa gift, signed and everything, I started reading almost immediately. Couldn’t resist. So maybe this is a case of expectations getting too high, or me reading too much amazing science fiction and fantasy over the past few months, but this book didn’t live up to my expectations.
First of all, I’m not one to question too much, especially in books like this; I’m really good at suspending disbelief and going where the author takes me. In this book, I had way too much trouble doing that, particularly because the book hammers the discrepancies into your mind. Rhine’s life before the kidnapping is terrible, and she says that she fares better than most in her home city of New York City. She and her brother get by, with both of them working, hiding from the kidnapping gangs that want to take Rhine away. Other orphans get shut out to die in the cold by these two, because they can’t support any more people.
But when Rhine arrives at Linden’s mansion, she is truly in the lap of luxury. She’s a prisoner, in theory, but a very well-treated one. What I don’t understand is why there aren’t poor orphaned girls banging down Linden’s gate trying to get into this life of luxury. Do they simply not know what awaits them? But why shouldn’t rich people tell them, so they have a choice of wives, instead of kidnapping and killing girls? Wouldn’t it be better to have a willing wife than one you had to kill sisters to get? Maybe someone else can explain this to me – not the obvious wealth disparity, but the fact that rich, single men are not in demand. And that they kill the wives that weren’t selected – surely they’d want all the women in the world alive to continue producing children?
The other aspects of the book were enjoyable – it was well-written and well-plotted as it kept me turning the pages – but the world-building simply didn’t make sense. Some of the blurbs compared it to The Handmaid’s Tale and implied that this is a future we could imagine happening, but to be honest, I couldn’t, so it lost the whole creepy point of dystopia where we can see what our world could become. I couldn’t see our world turning into this one, unfortunately, and the best writing in the world wouldn’t be enough to cover that lack.
So, Wither is an enjoyable quick read, but don’t expect to believe in the world.
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 Arthur and George are born in Great Britain in the mid-19th century, but their lives couldn’t be any more different. Arthur grows up in Edinburgh, in a shabby but intellectual and loving family, becoming an eye doctor and then a world-famous author. George grows up in rural Shropshire, tortured by farmboys due to his dark Indian skin, but nevertheless persevering to become a published solicitor in Birmingham. George is one of many; Arthur is one in a million. But when George’s life begins to unravel completely, it is Arthur who must come to his rescue, in this deep exploration of race, prejudice, circumstance, and deeply-held beliefs.
Julian Barnes recently won the Booker Prize for The Sense of an Ending, which I immediately wanted to read, but since I had Arthur and George on my shelf, I decided it had to come first. To be honest with you, that was a brilliant decision, because I loved this book. It made me think on so many levels, while at the same time providing a cleverly told story set in a fascinating part of history.
The short description I wrote about probably makes it obvious that the Arthur is question is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, ridiculously famous for creating Sherlock Holmes, a figure who resonates with us still so strongly that he’s having films and revival novels made about him. He’s less famous for his efforts to reform the law and grant justice to the wrongly accused. One of those cases was that of George Edalji, who is naturally the George in this book. Wrongly convicted of a series of horse murders and threatening letters, even though the letters threatened his own family and the mutilations continued when he couldn’t have committed them, George winds up in prison, and sends a letter to the author of the famous detective stories for help. Luckily for us – and Julian Barnes – Arthur came to help.
Knowing that this was a true story gave it particular resonance for me. The letters quoted within are real letters, including the threatening ones sent to George’s family. What was recorded has been included. Barnes has instead stepped into the minds of the characters and explored what these people might have been thinking and feeling.
In particular, this is a deep exploration of the injustice that was once inherent in the criminal system, but which invites us to work out our own prejudices in the process. We may not condemn George for his half-Indian heritage now, as these Englishmen did, but who do we accuse in his place? I’ll let you read the book to consider this for yourself, as Arthur must when he studies the suspects, but it’s the sort of book to place a reader just slightly on edge, fervently aware of how much and how little has changed.
It’s also an incredibly fascinating case study of two completely different men, who might have grown up in two different worlds, but for the cozy feel of England that seems to steep the book in tradition while carefully probing at these stereotypes that we’re still working to smash. I was kept reading, eager to learn more, and I found both halves of the narrative equally consuming, even before the central characters finally meet. It’s completely engrossing, beautifully written, and convincingly fleshed out. Very highly recommended – thank you, Julian Barnes, for getting my 2012 reading year off to a fantastic start.
All external book links are affiliate links. I purchased this book.
 Spartacus is famed as a warrior, a Thracian who led a band of rebellious gladiators against the might of the Roman republic. Ben Kane has taken this story, only the bare bones of which exist in historical record, and crafted a duology of fiction novels around those bones. This, the first, covers the story of Spartacus’s rise from a trapped and betrayed gladiator to the leader of an army capable of striking fear into the heart of the experienced Roman legions.
Spartacus: The Gladiator isn’t the first book Ben Kane has written about Rome, but it is the first of his that I’ve read so far. In the tradition of Bernard Cornwell and Simon Scarrow, this is a book about the darker side of historical fiction, full of battles, rough men, and treachery. Amongst all this is Spartacus, a man who clearly stands apart due to his natural sense of leadership and his stringent moral code, which extends completely outside the battlefield.
Like many choosing to read a book like this, I was seeking an active and exciting plot, and in this respect, Spartacus: The Gladiator delivers handily. Even though we know the lead character must survive – how else would there be a second book about him? – that doesn’t mean everyone else will. Several of the other characters have viewpoints, namely Ariadne, Spartacus’s wife, and Carbo, a Roman who becomes a gladiator after falling deeply into debt. We also sometimes witness events from the other side, usually through the eyes of Roman consuls and generals who are about to get massacred by Spartacus’s ever-growing army.
I liked both Ariadne and Carbo; each served a different purpose for seeing Spartacus through other eyes, albeit adoring ones. The great warrior wins their loyalties differently, by treating Ariadne with respect she’s never received from other men, and by believing in Carbo despite his Roman origins. In this way, we can see just why Spartacus was a natural leader, and start to believe why his rebellion started to meet with success.
This is not a book for those who actively dislike battle scenes. It may also contain triggers because there is more than one rape scene – I wouldn’t call any of them gratuitous, as each furthers the plot and causes significant reactions in different characters – but I could easily imagine them becoming upsetting. This is the Roman world, however, and when you’re reading a book about a war fought by deprived and vengeful men, it’s unfortunately to be expected.
I’m not particularly familiar with the legend of Spartacus, but Kane fills us in with a handy endnote, explaining what exists and what he extrapolated from the evidence. It’s fantastic when authors do this. Naturally, some of the characters are fictional, and no one is even sure Spartacus actually came from Thrace, because he might have been assigned that once he’d become a gladiator. But his battles and his comrades are recorded enough that the story follows the timeline as it happened.
If you’re seeking more historical fiction set in Rome in the days of the Republic, from the viewpoint of the oppressed, Spartacus: The Gladiator is a good choice.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review from the publisher.
 Richelle Mead’s Vampire Academy series is one of the few YA series I’ve actually kept up with over the past year or so; as a result, I immediately latched on to this book as soon as it was released. I was curious to know more about the minor characters from the first series, and Bloodlines follows on seamlessly from those with a change in characters. This means the review will contain spoilers for the Vampire Academy series, but I’ll try and keep them to a minimum.
Sydney Sage worked together with Rose to help save the Moroi world from catastrophe, but her close association with vampires and dhampirs has gotten her into trouble with her fellow Alchemists. After all, the goal of the Alchemists is to keep vampires and other supernatural races from discovery, not to associate with them personally, and as a result Sydney’s motivations have been called into question. But when Lissa’s sister Jill needs cover and a protector, Sydney goes in the place of her sister, who is judged too young for the responsibilities. Living life as a normal high school student, Sydney, along with series regulars Eddie and Adrian, must keep Jill out of harm – but there’s something strange going on at the school, and Sydney decides that finding out might just be worth the risk to her reputation.
Like the rest of the VA series, this was a light read that provided a lot of page-turning entertainment. I’ve always liked Sydney – I’m immediately attracted to fellow nerds and Sydney knows a lot – and I was happy that Mead chose to turn this new series around her story. At the same time, it also feels like we’ve set up a larger story for the rest of the series, which didn’t bother me but might with someone who was looking for a book without a cliffhanger ending.
Also, because it follows on directly from the Vampire Academy series, I feel it’s well worth having read the previous books before digging into this one – you’ll feel immediately familiar with the world and the issues contained in the novel. Otherwise, I feel as though you’ll miss out on the purpose for protecting Jill – the book says, but unless you’ve experienced the rest of the series, the importance may be diminished – and won’t understand the severity of Sydney’s plight.
Overall, another solid, enjoyable entry in this series, worth the read if you’re already invested.
I purchased this book.
 As I’m trying to catch up on my reviews from 2011, and now my five six reviews from 2012, I thought I’d better start putting together some mini reviews for those books I can get out of the way quickly! Here are the two short, lighter non-fiction books I read at the end of 2011.
Life Below Stairs, Alison Maloney
Inspired by the success of Downton Abbey, Alison Maloney has composed a brief, easily digestible book about the lives of servants in Edwardian England, around when the period drama is set. The book covers a huge variety of topics and, for me, actually made some of the show’s choices more understandable. For instance, I now understand the purpose and history behind the difference between Miss O’Brien’s clothing and the rest of the maids’, the servant’s ball, and even why Mrs Hughes is a “Mrs” even though she’s not a married woman.
It also highlighted a few of the differences between the show and real life, and the genuine struggles and difficulties that servants had. Life was definitely not as rosy for these folks as it is for the below-stairs servants at Downton. The book has plenty of quotes illustrating this, including one of a poor girl who missed her day off because she was so exhausted from work that she slept through it!
Life Below Stairs also has a few illustrative photos and is a brief overview that will suit fans of the show perfectly, but it’s probably too shallow for anyone who has previously read about the Edwardian period.
 The King’s Speech, Mark Logue and Peter Conradi
Like almost everyone else who has an interest in English history, I saw The King’s Speech in film form last year and absolutely adored it, so it was a no-brainer for me to pick up its written counterpart. Pleasantly, the book contains a few surprises even for those who have seen the film, particularly because it tells the story of Lionel Logue chronologically and includes plenty of background. Naturally, no one could or desires to fit all of this into a biopic framed around a speech, but I delighted in the extra details and in particular the genuine letters and photographs that accompanied the text.
One thing that struck me was that, even though this was less than 100 years ago, the social gap between Logue and George VI was massive. Just reading their letters to one another makes that clear – and also emphasizes how unusual and important their intimacy was. I found the book almost more valuable for that, in my mind, than for the extra details about that particular case. It’s a window into a world that hasn’t been gone for very long, but which is still utterly fascinating.
Highly recommended for those who enjoyed the movie and who are interested in social history.
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