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 Determined to defy expectations, 16-year-old Ida Gaze sets out to be the first person to swim the Bristol Channel in 1928. Beside her, always encouraging her, is her best friend Freda Voyle, and in her mind, her idol, Amelia Earhart. Many years later, Cecily Stirling, an old woman, is comforted by the presence of a young, vivacious girl Sarah, who points towards a photo of a woman in bathing costume that Cecily’s partner Freda left behind after her death. This isn’t just a book about Ida’s goal; it’s a book about finding yourself, achieving your dreams, and discovering who and what really matters to you.
I received Wonder Girls unsolicited for review, but I was so immediately drawn into the idea of the story that I couldn’t help but pick it up almost right away. This is a book that is almost entirely about women, what drives them, and even how much things have changed (and not) over the years that the book spans. During Ida’s youth, women are making strides, campaigning for freedom, determining the course of the future for themselves. Her swim, while fictional, reflects the real-life goal setting of two women around the same time period across the Bristol Channel and is thus perfectly true to life. At the same time, when she’s finished, her drive to go to London and make something of herself, which she persuades her friend Freda to do as well, is similarly characteristic of her drive.
But then the big city happens to both of the girls in different ways, and it’s only through Cecily’s story that we discover where they ended up after the dust settled, though Cecily herself has also been affected by their journeys.
I liked the way this book explored all of the relationships within it; Ida and Freda’s close friendship, Cecily and Freda’s years-long romance as well as their relationship with a character who enters into the story later, and Cecily’s budding friendship with young Sarah. I liked that Jones treated the relationships between women, romantic or friendship, as normal love, just as valid as any other kind, and just as moving. I was swept up in these characters’ lives and grew to care for each of them in their own way.
We also see how much people change when their circumstances do. Ida, for instance, is blindsided when she moves to London, intoxicated by her effect on men, but losing sight of who she truly is and what her goals in life are in the swirl of rather frivolous consumerism that her new position grants her. The book, to a large extent, shines a huge spotlight on how shallow our lives can turn when we get too distracted by possessions and positions and forget to focus on what we love.
But truly, Wonder Girls is a fascinating book, set in different eras of change for women, with fantastic characters that will keep you turning the pages. Great first effort from Catherine Jones.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review.
 Sophia Noirot has her hands full, between acting as saleswoman for the shop that she and her two sisters run by day and by night as a writer for the scandal sheets of London. She makes her sisters’ dresses sound incredible by burying their descriptions inside the salacious stories that London’s gossips spread around town each and every day. But Sophy’s mission to make her shop a success keeps getting interrupted by the Earl of Longmore, who can’t get her big blue eyes out of his mind. When Longmore’s sister, the shop’s biggest patron, makes a monumental mistake and creates a scandal of her own, though, Sophy can’t abandon either of them to their fate.
I have a strange relationship with Loretta Chase’s writing. I didn’t really fall in love with several of her earlier books, like Not Quite a Lady. I flat out disliked Don’t Tempt Me. I liked Captives of the Night, but still haven’t managed to read Lord of Scoundrels. But one of her books that I did read was Silk is for Seduction, and I enjoyed that far more than any of the others, to the extent that I still remember it fairly well. So when I was offered the opportunity to continue reading that series, I didn’t say no.
I unfortunately can’t say I absolutely loved the emotions in this book like I did with the last, but Scandal Wears Satin is still a very satisfying and heart-warming read at the core of it. In this case, I loved Sophy, and Chase’s way of speaking in all capitals to indicate her slightly melodramatic tendencies. I found it honestly very amusing, and I could really see why Longmore was completely enchanted with her. I didn’t find one of the world’s most compelling heroes, though, to be honest; I could understand his worries about his sister, but nothing about him has particularly landed in my mind as a notable feature.
As usual, some of the plot here was more or less ridiculous. I had to roll my eyes at Clara running away on her engagement and where she actually ended up; it just seemed a little bit overdone, a clever way of throwing the hero and the heroine together. I was also very disappointed in Clara herself; after actually throwing off a duke in the last book, saying that she deserved better, and coming into her own, I’d never have anticipating that she’d immediately end up in a compromising situation with a fortune hunter and ruin it all.
There are also the standard barriers to an earl marrying a simple commoner which have to be overcome at the same time; bad enough that the duke who was supposed to marry Clara married a commoner himself, but for Longmore to do it creates an even bigger obstacle in society’s minds. I had to remind myself that I’m not actually reading this for a realistic portrayal of society.
In spite of all that, I did genuinely enjoy reading this book. While I can see its faults fairly clearly, the romance between the main characters somehow works, and works well. I’m definitely looking forward to reading about the third of the Noirot sisters, and I’m certainly hoping that Clara gets her happy ending. Maybe she’ll rediscover that woman she found in Silk is for Seduction.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review.
 This review will contain spoilers for Feed, the first in the Newsflesh trilogy. Please go to my review and read the book before you read this review!
After the heart-breaking conclusion to Feed, where he lost his sister and best friend Georgia to Kellis-Amberlee, Shaun is lost. He knows he should follow through on some of the things his sister was so passionate about, including the site they ran together, but his heart’s not in his position as an Irwin any longer. But Georgia hasn’t quite left him; her voice in his head drives him forward to solve some of the ever-eerier mysteries that she only began unearthing during the Ryman campaign.
I knew this book was going to have a hard time living up to Feed, the first book in this series, which I simply found amazing. I worried when I started this; would it have the same relatively slow build-up before I got engaged in it again? How would I adjust to the shift to Shaun’s narrative voice? Would he be distinguishable from Georgia at all? And so on. My worries were, for the most part, unfounded, and I was completely wrapped up in this book while reading it, speeding through its many pages in a single weekend.
What about those worries? First of all, there wasn’t a slow build-up. I still felt as emotionally attached to the new characters as I had to the old. I didn’t love them the way I really loved Georgia, not even Shaun, but I did find myself getting fond of him by the end of the book. There are some fairly tense events close to the start of the book that get the action going, and one moment that I suspect was intended to be as jaw-dropping as the first death in the first book was. (It wasn’t, but it was still pretty good). I could easily distinguish Shaun from Georgia, and his persistent melancholy didn’t bother me very much at all.
I did, however, have a few reservations with this book that I didn’t have while reading the first one. I didn’t like that Shaun spent the book talking to Georgia and hearing her in his head. Maybe he couldn’t cope without her; but it felt cheap, like she’d cheated death, unlike the absolute complete absence that took place when Buffy died. They still haven’t caught up without her, after all. Georgia may not have been conventionally alive, but the fact that her character still lives on bugged me, in a way.
I also noticed some repetitive writing here which I hadn’t in the first one; in Deadline’s defense, my “repetition” sensors were on full blast after Fifty Shades of Grey, and I’m not sure I’d have noticed otherwise. One character is constantly paling and the rest of them often start swearing on a very frequent basis. And they continue swearing for what should be minutes; I can understand uttering an expletive, but surely stringing many swear words together is not entirely a necessity when in a life-or-death situation. I suppose I don’t know; I’ve never been in one. But it happened very, very often.
Anyway, all that aside, I did actually genuinely enjoy Deadline, and I was happy that I’d already preordered Blackout so I could continue with the story right away. I’ll definitely recommend these as absorbing reads that are still very thoughtful in their own way, and I’m looking forward to wrapping up the trilogy in the very near future.
 Marguerite and Eleanor of Provence, close friends as well as sisters, are separated when their husbands are chosen. Marguerite is destined to marry the French King, Louis IX, while Eleanor is sent to England to wed Henry III. At first, quiet and malleable Marguerite seems the luckiest sister, for her husband is handsome and with him she finds what she believes to be love. Eleanor’s husband, Henry, is older and shorter than she is, but she soon gets to know him and falls in love herself, while Marguerite realises that her husband is ruled by his mother and his piety. These two women from the powerful family of Savoy never forget one another, and their bond changes medieval Europe as they begin to wield the only power available to women of their day.
The Sister Queens is precisely the kind of historical fiction I love, and which swiftly absorbed me within its pages. Marguerite and Eleanor haven’t been written to death already; in fact, Henry III and Louis IX are fairly absent from the historical fiction scene themselves, even though massive changes are taking place in both countries through the narrative, laying the ground for history to come which does have more conventional attention. The medieval atmosphere is very appealing, with plenty of smaller details sprinkled throughout the narrative.
Plenty happens, too; the sisters’ husbands go to war, sometimes with the sisters alongside them. Marguerite in particular spends years on Crusade with her husband, at one point making a stand of her own against the enemy with very little on her side at all. Henry III struggles, famously, with his barons, as his poor political judgement leads to problem after problem in the ruling of his kingdom. There are the inevitable lulls as both women have multiple children and time must pass by fairly quickly to excuse their pregnancies, but I found it very easy to carry on reading without feeling like the story bogged down at all.
It’s in part the relationships between the sisters, though, that makes this an excellent book. Yes, they have their children and their husbands, but they also always have one another, and it’s the sort of heartwarming female relationship that doesn’t always dominate mainstream fiction in quite the way it should. The mere fact that it was true, that these sisters really did bring about a peace between their two countries that lasted until Edward III shook things up again, added authenticity to the relationship and made the entire book more absorbing. This truly was a fascinating period in history (although if you listen to me I seem to think all of the Middle Ages is fascinating) and Perinot does it great justice here.
Finally, I must confess that I absolutely love that Perinot used Jean de Joinville’s chronicle as the basis of certain happenings around Marguerite’s court. I immediately had a strong desire to read de Joinville’s work for myself, and it’s an amazing way to fill in the historical blanks without stepping on the toes of what’s already been established.
In short, an excellent work of historical fiction that makes me think again about not remaining in love with the genre. Certainly the best I’ve read this year set in the Middle Ages. Highly recommended.
 For a few hundred years, the London Season began with a new crop of debutantes making their curtsey before the monarch – in short, being presented and coming out to society for the first time. Afterwards, a wave of balls took place, introducing each of these young women to the people with whom they were meant to socialise for the rest of their lives. The goal was always to find a husband, preferably a rich or titled one, and settle down nicely in the countryside, preferably in your husband’s mansion.
Fiona MacCarthy made her curtsey to the queen in 1958, the last year that any girls made their debut, and effectively the last year of the London Season as it had been known. Times were changing; women could do more than simply get married. The prospect of a career for women was not far off, and women like MacCarthy could be and increasingly were educated at England’s best universities. They learned quickly that talents gained while preparing to be a wife and run a great house could in fact be applied to trades, granting women more independence than ever before. Besides, the old landed families increasingly were pressed hard for the funds to present a girl properly. Old, inherited London townhouses were increasingly sold off and turned into flats, meaning that presentation balls and dinners took place in hotels while families rented expensive rooms for the duration of the season. After the two World Wars, Seasons and debutantes became a joke, and the aristocratic world shifted fundamentally.
This book piqued my interest immediately; as a long-time reader of romance novels, I’ve always been well aware of the London Season in the generally anachronistic way that it’s portrayed there. When you’re reading a romance novel anyway, there simply isn’t a better time for the heroine to find someone to fall in love with, especially when the same set of people get thrown together night after night. But the Season in real life hasn’t been something that I’ve personally researched. With this book, I seized a chance to change that and find out about the reality.
Because MacCarthy’s Season takes place at the very end, the book is half about social change and half about what actually happened during the Season itself. She notes the differences between her mother’s coming out years before and her sister’s two years later; at the former, balls still took place in old aristocratic houses, but by her sister’s (and much of hers) the balls were fewer and smaller. The actual narration of the Season was interesting as well; there were plenty of parties for her to attend, and she spends some time denoting who was who during those few months and what happened to them afterwards.
My only criticism, really, is that the book felt sort of disjointed; there wasn’t that strong a narrative running through it, no real point made at the end. It follows a rough chronological timeline, with elements explained where necessary, but it sometimes makes diversions from this and adds in bits and pieces that aren’t really necessary. It was an enjoyable read, yes, but I personally wanted it to go further and examine more social history, too. But given I knew nothing about the real London Season – much less that it was continuing right up to when my parents were born – I found that Last Curtsey expanded my knowledge and provided me with some intriguing food for thought.
 Tancred a Dinant has followed his liege lord, Robert de Commines, since the tender age of fourteen. Now that King William the Conqueror has taken England, Tancred finds himself in the north defending against the Anglo-Saxons who would prefer not to bow to the Norman lord. After a disastrous battle, Tancred barely escapes with his life; one of the men lost is his lord. Anchorless, Tancred ends up in the service of another Frenchman, Malet, heading to London to protect Malet’s wife and daughter in the face of overwhelming odds. But on the way, he must escort an English priest to a nunnery, where he discovers a curious plot that indicates treachery from within Malet’s household.
Sworn Sword promises to be the first in a new series of historical fiction focusing on England just after the conquest. Starting out in January 1069, this series is going to focus on the difficulty that William the Conqueror had in keeping his throne through the eyes of Tancred. It’s a book very much in the vein of Bernard Cornwell, though; battle-focused fiction with a slight element of suspense and mystery.
The opening has a fair share of Tancred’s grief; he’s injured and he’s lost two important people in his life, his lord and his “woman”. In the latter case, he was just beginning to develop feelings for her, and he spends a lot of time beating himself up mentally for not protecting her, for trusting that she’d be safe. He outright mourns his lord, who he respected and cared for, and particularly now that he’s without someone to fight for. When he’s gravely injured and can barely raise his head, the situation is much worse.
Fortunately for Tancred, and for those reading this book, he quickly recovers and is on his way, and that’s when the book starts to get a little bit more interesting. A mystery unfolds in between a number of battles, and there is a fledgling romance slipped in at the same time. It’s a solid read, if you enjoy this sort of book, and I enjoyed the atmosphere. Aitcheson has done enough research to make most of his choice fit smoothly into the historical world, and a lengthy author’s note at the end explains what did and didn’t happen in the real timeline. That’s one part of a historical novel I always appreciate; I like to know where the author has drawn from the historical record and where they’ve filled in with their imagination.
Sworn Sword is a solid read, well worth it for fans who like their historical fiction somewhat bloody and atmospheric, particularly those who have already developed a taste for it via Bernard Cornwell or Ben Kane.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review.
 Justin de Quincey has received an excellent education for 12th century England, despite the fact that he’s never known either of his parents. Finally at an age to set off on his own, Justin discovers that his father is actually the benefactor he’d already been familiar with, Aubrey de Quincey, nothing less than the Bishop of Coventry. When leaving, his thoughts clouded with anger and betrayal, he stumbles upon a murder scene, and receives a letter meant for Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine. The Angevin Empire is in a bad place, as King Richard has gone missing on his return from the Crusades. Justin’s successful delivery of the letter to the queen leads to his assignment – discovering who had this man killed, why, and who might know what’s happened to King Richard.
Despite having read and adored most of Sharon Kay Penman’s books, I’d never actually read any of her medieval mysteries before this one. I bought all four – because, of course, I knew I would probably enjoy them once I read them – but I’ve had this one sitting on the shelf for almost four years. Historical mysteries have been keeping my interest in the overall historical fiction genre keen, so I decided at long last to see what one of my favourite authors had in store.
The Queen’s Man combines Penman’s exceptional talent for evoking the medieval atmosphere with a mystery that was satisfactory. While I’d never really put this on par with one of her epics, not least for the fact that it doesn’t contain the huge range of pure human emotion and historical detail as those do, her skills are still very obvious in this shorter, faster paced format. The main character, Justin, is sometimes a little bit too obtuse, even for a reader that is as bad at guessing mysteries as I am. He’s obviously inexperienced, but he doesn’t always draw conclusions as quickly as I felt he should. The mystery itself isn’t really one that had my heart racing, but it was interesting enough to keep me reading.
I suppose that “satisfactory” really is the best word for the book; it was a nice way to spend the afternoon, a quick read that sent me back to medieval England which is something I always enjoy. If I’d started here with Penman’s works, I’m not sure I’d have fallen in love with her writing as much as I did with The Sunne in Splendour or Here Be Dragons, but as a fan already, I can tell you that I’ll finish the next three, and I expect I will like them as much as I liked this book. Don’t go in expecting another breathtaking historical epic and you’ll enjoy The Queen’s Man - although it looks like the only place you can currently buy the book is used or on Kindle in the US.
 Every book I’ve ever read by China Mieville has started with me feeling off-balance and uncomfortable. He has an utterly unique, in my experience, talent for feats of imagination in science fiction that are so completely unlike anything familiar but that manage to make a point about the world that we live in at the very same time. To some extent, his books require the reader to just let go, assume that we aren’t going to understand every detail of the worlds that pour out of his amazing brain, and to simply absorb the story he’s trying to tell.
Such is the case with Embassytown. We begin with our narrator, Avice, half telling the story as a small child and half as a grown woman facing the consequences of a diplomatic assignment in Embassytown. I felt like it took a while for me to actually grasp the world, but once I did, I fell right into it. Now that I’m a little more accustomed to reading science fiction, I noticed that either this took less than time in some of the previous books of his I’ve read, or that this one is more accessible, but there was still that period of confusion that slowed the start.
In the world he’s created, or rather in the world that contains a city called Embassytown, ordinary humans rely on the native alien race, the Ariekei, to construct their world using their biotech skills. Buildings, power, even replacement body parts are built using Ariekei technology. But communicating with the Ariekei is a challenge, as they can only speak absolute truth, and they have two voices which speak at the same time. To say something, they must witness it happening, and those who are chosen to act out these bits of language are special. Those who actually speak with the Ariekei are called Ambassadors, and are two people chosen and made to be exactly the same, so that their voices will resonate in a way that the Ariekei can understand.
The primary thing I loved about this book was the way that Mieville plays with language. I’ll keep quiet on the reasons why this becomes important, but he highlights the different aspects of language and the subtle ways we shift into metaphors to express what we’re trying to say, and how we can morph those all the way into lies. I found that aspect particularly fascinating.
Like other Mieville books, I didn’t really fall in love with any of the characters, not even Avice, but I found myself wrapped up in their story once I knew what was going on, and the book to be satisfying read afterwards which kept me thinking about it once I’d finished.
I wouldn’t recommend Embassytown to someone who wasn’t comfortable being tossed in and working out what was happening as the book went on, but for those who do enjoy speculative fiction, Mieville is a must-read.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review.
 The last thing Ana Steele wants to do is interview the wealthy, young businessman Christian Grey. She’s shy, klutzy, and completely inexperienced around men. But her friend Kate Kavanaugh is sick and has spent a huge amount of effort securing this interview, and so she goes to meet him. Within minutes, she finds that she’s fascinated with him, and he with her, to her utter shock. But when she starts to get involved with him, she discovers that there are many sides to Christian Grey, and some of them are sides that she’s not sure she’s ready for.
The buzz around this book is huge. It’s everywhere, on nearly every bestseller list you can imagine. Even my mother mentioned it to me, that she was curious about everyone loving it. And from what I’d read online, I knew that it was a variety of romance in a trilogy. So when a colleague offered to lend it to me when I expressed my own curiosity, I decided to give it a try. After all, I like romances, as readers of this blog will know.
I did not like this book.
Several caveats here, I suppose; I mainly read historical romance and I don’t really get that into contemporary romances, although there are exceptions. Jennifer Crusie springs to mind as one author who does it successfully. I’m not into reading erotica, although I’m not opposed to a good sex scene in a book I’m reading at all. And I didn’t like Twilight. I also don’t like being called “baby” or “babe” or any of that sort of endearment, which these characters do, and that always puts me off. Finally, I like nice men; I married one, after all, and it was the best decision I ever made.
That said, there are too many things wrong here beyond that for me to ever recommend this book to anyone, really. The writing style irritated me. It’s incredibly mundane, there are very few descriptions, and the ones that are there are repetitive. If I had to hear about Grey’s long-fingered hands or the way his pants hung off his hips again, I would have screamed. I didn’t need to hear every single detail of Ana’s existence; I can assume she’s shaved her legs and under her arms before a date, thanks. Some sequences just didn’t need to be there. The constant swearing irritated me; the amount of times she says “holy” something or other, or “oh, my”, really started to get to me. Swearing is not something I mind usually; I find it adds grittiness and realism to some books, but here, I just felt like the author should have showed those emotions some other way. Let’s not mention the constant gasping and squirming, often in the presence of other people, who don’t seem to notice.
Then there were the characters, neither of whom I actually liked. Christian is, to be perfectly honest, a controlling freak, and there is nothing I like less than a truly controlling person. I would have run in the other direction as fast as possible if I’d ever come close to someone like him in real life, and honestly I would have hoped the same of other women too. He wants to dictate how much she sleeps, when she eats, and he keeps turning up when she’s trying to get away from him. He traces her cell phone to work out where she is, looks up her mother’s address and where she’s having cocktails to see her, and buys her a computer and a second mobile phone to make sure she can email him whenever he asks. Ana herself isn’t any better; she tries to be independent, but she seems to have zero spine whenever Christian is actually with her, and she barely has an existence outside of his regard for her. I didn’t like her for falling so easily for a guy with a pretty face, for returning to him even when he’s made her cry, for ignoring her friends and their warnings for someone like that.
And I haven’t even talked about the sex scenes yet, and there are a lot of them, starting around page 100. They are disturbing, unrealistic, and written in such a way that I rolled my eyes at them rather than being interested. This couple seems to do it four or five times a day, occasionally one time right after the other, then again twenty minutes later. I didn’t need to read about every single one of these sex scenes; they do not further the story and they get, frankly, boring.
I have zero desire to read any of the rest of this trilogy and I am honestly depressed by the fact that so many people have chosen THIS series as the one that’s caused a public craze. I have read so many romance novels that respect and empower women by showing them that it’s their desires that matter, that they are worthy of love and attention, and instead women just seem to choose the novels where the female characters are spineless in the face of a dominating man.
Instead of reading this, please try Jennifer Crusie, Courtney Milan, or Eloisa James (links go to favourites of their books), or another of the fantastic historical romances I’ve reviewed on this blog. I think you’ll enjoy them far more.
 Tamar, princess of Georgia, can’t imagine her big, intimidating father ever losing a battle. But when an army attacks her country’s capital, Tamar is sent away to relative safety. Rebellious as she is, Tamar doesn’t stay hidden for long, and returns to the capital only to receive her father’s blessing as his heir, leaving her a female queen of Georgia when he dies. But in the countryside, Tamar met a boy that she can’t forget, even when she is forced to make a diplomatic match for her country’s strength. When the choice comes between the boy she loves and the country she would die for, which will Tamar choose?
I’d never read much about Georgia; to be honest, the only reason I even knew there was a country called Georgia is because it was part of the former Soviet Union, which I learned about when I studied Russian in school. But this book immediately took my interest; it’s set during the Middle Ages, and it’s about a woman who struggles with power. Queen Tamar genuinely existed and is a legend for current Georgians, with some buildings associated with her still standing. But from reading this book about the early part of her youth and her eventual reign, it’s obvious that a long and peaceful rule was by no means guaranteed, or even likely.
Told alternately between Tamar and her second husband, Lord Soslan, the book explores her struggles as the kingdom adapted to a woman on the throne. Tamar often demonstrates her intelligence, wilfulness, and determination to retain her throne and do her job properly. There are, as expected, a few uncertain first steps for her, particularly with a difficult aunt who comes to “advise” her on how to become a powerful queen, but her journey is an inspiring and compelling one. It’s really a coming of age tale, but that coming of age is one that an entire kingdom relies on.
I was completely fascinated by the history of this country I’d never read about before; the author includes touches of other parts of the world, particularly the Byzantine Empire, as Tamar’s sister goes to marry there and finds herself embroiled in, as usual, a succession crisis. This provides some essential context for the time period, but overall I loved reading about somewhere completely different. With deft touches, she shapes great characters in the space of a relatively short novel, making for a very pleasurable read over the course of an afternoon.
The Girl King is definitely recommended for other readers of historical fiction; if you’ve had enough of the Tudors and the Plantagenets, why not let Tamar take you back to 12th century Georgia?
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review.
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