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 The love story of Marc Antony and Cleopatra is legendary. The question asked less often is what happened to their children after they killed themselves? Michelle Moran tackles this question by exploring the lives of the three children who were taken by Octavian and the rest of the Romans through the eyes of the one of the twins, and the only girl, Kleopatra Selene. Practically stranded in a totally new world, twelve-year-old Selene and her brother Alexander must learn how to live in ancient Rome while watching every step, perpetually in danger of losing their lives.
I don’t know how high my expectations for Michelle Moran are going to have to be set for her to fail to match and surpass them, but she has done so in this book. Cleopatra’s Daughter is a great read and proves that the author can portray Rome with just as much skill as she has applied to Egypt. The novel starts out in Egypt with a bang as Octavian and his warriors invade, causing Cleopatra and Antony to kill themselves in desperation. Selene, Alexander, and Ptolemy are whisked away on a boat, on which Ptolemy dies. Selene already knew her life was never going to be the same, and the loss of not only her parents but her baby brother causes her to both fear and gather her strength. She vows that she and her brother will regain Egypt.
In Rome, the already great characters of Selene and Alexander are matched with teenage Roman children as their friends. These kids are nice, well-rounded secondary characters, especially Selene’s friend Julia, who has plenty of her own problems to deal with. Moreover, they are figures from history, and reading about them as they might have been as children is exciting.
The twins interact with the highest levels of Roman society, but Selene in particular still feels like a young teenager, albeit an intelligent one. She experiences her first crush and develops her interest in architecture, while coping with Octavian’s horrible wife Livia, who is determined to thwart her and humiliate her at every turn. It’s easy to relate to Selene in the midst of a great deal of foreignness and danger, which is why this book also works as a fantasy YA novel. Plus, I adored the way the love story angle wound up. I knew it was one based on the dedication, but it took a good long time for me to figure out who Selene loved exactly. When the pieces fell into place, I realized I had seen it all along without really thinking about it.
These are not only dangerous times for Selene and Alexander but for Rome as well, which experiences the beginnings of a slave rebellion, and a mystery as to who the ringleader is. No one is safe from suspicion. This mystery definitely powers the plot along since Selene herself doesn’t have all that much to do. Luckily, her voice is strong enough that she is still an ideal choice for narrator; she has inside information and she is by far the most interesting character.
I’m happy to be able to say that I definitely recommend Cleopatra’s Daughter. This is a very solid historical fiction novel with enchanting characters, a richly described setting, and an enthralling plot.
 From the back of the book:
It is 1588, and as the Spanish Armada prepares to besiege England, Paris balances on the brink of revolution. To maintain her grip on the throne and on the dark magic that has become her obsession, Catherine de Medici turns to Louis Xavier, a ruthless corsair who was schooled in the dark arts and has mastered piracy along the Spanish main. But Louis’s basest instincts are held in check by the kindness of Lady Jane Danvers, a British exile whose innate sense of honor is but one facet of her complex and passionate nature.
On Faire Isle, Ariane Cheney, unaware of the escalating threat from the Dark Queen, struggles with the task of protecting the daughters of the earth and their vast story of ancient magical wisdom. Weak and desperate for an advantage, the ailing Catherine makes a devil’s bargain that will cast a shadow over all.
This is the fifth and final book in the Dark Queen series. I chose to provide the book’s summary because there are many plotlines here and I didn’t want to miss any! I intended to read the first four in the series before getting to this one, but then ran out of time, so I was worried I’d feel I’d missed something. To some extent I know I did, but this book stands alone extremely well. I understood everything that was going on without a problem and possibly wouldn’t even have noticed it was a series wrap-up if I hadn’t been told!
There are two threads to this story and they intertwine close to the end. The first is the Dark Queen Catherine de Medici’s search for Megeara, the former Silver Rose. Meg has memorized all the secrets from a dark book which Catherine believes is the cure for all of her ills. Catherine knows Meg is on Faire Isle, and tries to send Xavier there to get her. Xavier has no intention of doing so, until a storm blows his ship off course and sends him overboard, just in time for Lady Jane Danvers to find him nearly dead on the beach. Jane, a Catholic exile from England, is all but alone in the world, and Xavier proves to be just what she needs by way of a little romance and a lot of love.
This book proved to be a very enjoyable historical fantasy novel about how the late sixteenth century French court might have been with the addition of a little magic. Thanks to the various threads of the plot, there is a lot of action and the reader is often left wondering what is going to happen next, particularly thanks to Meg’s scrying abilities. We know the future, but not how the characters are going to get there nor what will happen afterwards. The love story is sweet and believable. I found myself attached to all of the characters, especially Meg, even though I had never “met” them before. I’m very much looking forward to reading the first four, which I have, and finding out just how they all got to this point.
In short, Twilight of a Queen comes very recommended, especially to those who like historical fiction with a touch of fantasy and romance.
 In besieged Sarajevo, a cellist, gazing out his window, sees more than 20 people die from a bomb while waiting for bread. In mourning for them, he decided to play at that exact spot for 22 days, to honor all of the dead, putting his life at risk. Meanwhile, Kenan ventures out most days, embracing danger to get water for his family and inexplicably the neighbor, an old woman whom he has never liked. Dragan feels a burden on his family, his wife and son sent away before the war, and finds some comfort in his job at the bakery. Arrow, a sniper, is determined to wreak revenge on the people in the hills who are killing so many of her townspeople. Together, these characters weave a picture of a city under siege, somehow seeking hope but not yet hopeless.
My favorite character, to whom I wished the narrative would keep returning, was Arrow. She is the most interesting of all of them, a killer, but somehow one that we can love and empathize with even as she chooses her targets and plans her strategy. She’s a murderer who has blocked off her heart somehow, drawing a direct line between the girl she was and the sniper that she is now. I can’t imagine not feeling for her. The other characters were less compelling, especially Dragan, who seemed obsessed with a variety of things and complained too much. The cellist didn’t have much of a personality. Kenan was also a compelling character and I enjoyed the discoveries he made and the thoughts he had over the course of the novel.
Perhaps the only problem I had with it is that I liked it while I was reading it, but now that it’s been a while since I finished, its core meanings have not stayed with me particularly well. War is wrong and savage, and it’s lovely that the cellist brought hope into its midst, but I have read other books about Sarajevo and I’m not sure this stands out as much as perhaps it should. I enjoyed its ruminations on survival while people are out to kill you, how the city holds together as one being, and Arrow’s protection of the cellist, but I’m not left with a desire to reread this one, perhaps because I just never developed a deep relationship with the characters.
I am glad I read it and I would recommend The Cellist of Sarajevo, particularly if you enjoy bleak stories about war with a light shining through the darkness.
 Mary Saunders has always longed for luxury. Born to working-class parents, she lives with her mother, step-father, and baby half-brother in a basement in lower-class eighteenth century England. Though she is somewhat educated, she really has only two options in life; sewing, like her mother, or service. Mary rebels and loses her virginity, health, and respectability for a single red ribbon, falling into a life of prostitution and alcoholism. Based on the story of a maid who killed her mistress for a beautiful dress, Mary’s story is heartbreaking but surprisingly compelling and evocative of her time.
I will admit that I struggled with this book in the beginning. Mary was extremely difficult to care about. She is so frivolous that she covets the lifestyle of a prostitute just so she can have pretty clothes. Her sojourn in a rehabilitation facility and later time with the Jones family both open her eyes a little to the respectability of honest work, but her craving for luxury undoes her good intentions every time. It is something that is a little mystifying, especially given when she sees how the Joneses have worked up the career ladder to a life which she craves.
On the other hand, however, she is a very well-rounded character. Frustrating as she is, it’s easy to see how her childhood, friendships, and longings translate into the way she lives her life. Surprisingly we can see how prostitution does suit her, creepy as that feels. She seems to enjoy her power over men while reveling in the fact that she can buy beautiful clothes and spend most of her time laughing and drinking with her prostitute friends. It’s only when she gets seriously ill that she has to pursue ways of healing and thinks about where she has gone wrong.
This is, unfortunately, an unrelentingly negative book. We learn that Mary is in prison in the first few pages and then are sent back to figure out how she got there. Even when happier things happen in her life, the reader is always aware that they aren’t going to last. I had a span of about 10 pages where I loved the book; I thought Mary’s life was going to take a turn for the better. I had been struggling with the book and then I fell in love. I fell out of love about as quickly and finished it more because I had to than because I wanted to. It was just so depressing and Mary’s obsession with money, escape, and luxury became all-consuming even though she was perhaps the happiest she’d ever been in her life.
This is a story about a girl who makes very poor choices, all of which catch up to her in the end. Knowing that from the beginning makes this a challenge, but it is still an excellent book for its portrayal of eighteenth century London, the countryside, and the insights into Mary’s mind. In startling contrast to most historical fiction which focuses on the wealthy and privileged, I do think this book is worth reading.
IndieBound | Powell’s | Amazon | Amazon UK
 Sixteen-year-old Lydia and her gorgeous mother Valentina have been living in Junchow, China, ever since they were exiled from Russia during the Bolshevik Revolution. All is not well for these two women; Valentina drinks too much and Lydia must steal just to pay the rent. Her thievery places her in danger with a terrifying underground gang, from which a young Chinese Communist, Chang An Lo, saves her. That doesn’t solve Lydia’s problems, however, and they only escalate as she realizes how deeply she feels for Chang An Lo and that her mother is falling into deeper and deeper disgrace.
There are a lot of things wrong with this novel. The story has a great premise in theory and one which should really appeal to me. I love the idea of a forbidden love. Here, though, it doesn’t work. For one thing, I didn’t believe in the connection between Lydia and Chang An Lo. I don’t know if I can isolate why. I just didn’t feel that they could have possibly known each other well enough to risk their lives in such a way. In fact, I felt a little bit like Lydia was a spoiled brat, despite the fact that she’s poor and knows it. She just must have her way all the time. As an example, she asks her mother’s lover for a rabbit, even though her mother despises it and they can’t afford to eat in the first place let alone buy greens for a rabbit. She insists on charging off into the dangerous section of town, only to get people killed and risk the life of a friend. She makes bad decisions and manipulates adults to get what she wants. She’s fiery, but fiery in a way that is not appealing. The one aspect of Lydia’s character I did like was the relationship with Alfred, which I thought grew in an organic and believable way.
This book also has far too many characters. It’s not just about Lydia and Chang An Lo. It’s about Lydia’s mother and her various paramours and her friend Polly and Polly’s parents and her teacher Theo and his Chinese lover and a variety of thugs and aristocrats and communists besides. It gets confusing and I wished it had been streamlined. The book just felt too long, like the story went on and on. And to top it all off, it’s open-ended, so the reader is forced to buy the sequel if she wants to continue the story. I feel like a warning should come with books like this.
I did like the setting; historical fiction in China is harder to come by than, say, historical fiction in England, and I appreciated that. There are little bits of history thrown in, like the origins of that rabbit’s name, Sun Yat-sen, and the history of the Communist movement in China. These, however, were not enough to rescue the plodding plot and unsympathetic characters.
Finally, a minor point, which someone who works in publishing could clarify for me. Since Lydia and her mother are Russian, sometimes they use Russian phrases in their speech. Unfortunately, these are spelled out somewhat phonetically, and almost always would probably give the reader the wrong pronunciation of the word. Is there a reason that she couldn’t have just used the cyrillic, aside from the fact that most people can’t understand it? If anything, it would look even more exotic. It also felt very tacked on to me, as in, they’d say “Thank you” and then the author would add spasibo and it just threw me out of the book. Though my Russian has greatly degraded, it was once fluent and sometimes it even took me a while to figure out what words she was trying to use. Since the overall writing isn’t that good to start with, mundane and choppy, this was not an incentive to keep going. I also hated how the book’s title didn’t match its content – there are no Russian concubines in this book.
Honestly, I don’t think I’d recommend The Russian Concubine. I wouldn’t have finished if I didn’t have to. You don’t need to start at all!
 One day in the year 1202, a British man breaks into the tent of a marquis, believing that he can both kill his enemy and be killed himself, achieving his ultimate goals in this life. Fortunately, the Briton is unwillingly rescued from suicide by a pious knight, Gregor of Mainz, something of a religious and martial icon at the start of the Fourth Crusade. Before they set sail, the Briton manages to rescue an Arab princess, who shares space on the journey with Gregor, his brother Otto, Otto’s concubine, and two dimwitted servants. Together, this peculiar crew embark on one of history’s most disastrous mistakes with thousands of other knights, clerics, and leaders.
It probably isn’t normal for most readers of this book to know all about the catastrophic Fourth Crusade. Catastrophic in hindsight, that is; this one was remarkably successful in terms of victories but horrid in terms of killing other Christians and not even coming close to achieving its goal of retaking Jerusalem. For the record, all the crusades were wrong and are actually appalling to think about, but this one is even so in medieval terms, which is quite impressive. So on approaching Crossed, I generally had down the politics, the outline of events, and the crazy people who were at the head of this insanity. If I hadn’t, I think the politics would have irritated me, but the history is great. No one can make this stuff up. It’s just too unreal for words, but it happened, and at a comfortable 800 year distance, we can even find it horrific in an amusing way.
Such is what Galland accomplishes with Crossed. She doesn’t really go for a medieval mindset with these characters. The closest is probably Gregor, who adheres to medieval standards very rigidly, but the rest of the characters are often used to play with the absurdities of medieval life rather than being approximations of the people who might have lived 800 years ago. I got used to this idea in Galland’s first book and it hasn’t really bothered me since now that I know what she’s doing. The Briton is mainly the character that she uses for this purpose, employing hindsight to fuel his clever retorts and lamentations on fate, such as in response to the glory of battle,
“Is Christ smiling down at you for this? Do you become more Christian if you smear yourself in Christian gore?” (302)
At all times, we’re fully aware that this crusade is horrible and what the knights are being told to do is completely wrong. It’s terrible, but it’s also showing us the absurdity of the entire idea by poking at its ridiculousness.
Not all of the book is great, though. Parts do drag. The history is fascinating, but the politics less so, and after a point the relationship between the Briton and Jamila has more or less been exhausted. The book is lengthy because it manages to cover almost the entire crusade, but it also covers a great deal more. I enjoyed it, but I’m not sure how much of that was remembering my favorite old history professor teaching in my head as opposed to how much I was genuinely enjoying the book. I think this is certainly worth a try for historical fiction readers and history buffs, taken with a grain of salt. It’s perhaps not Galland’s best book but I’ll still be eagerly awaiting her fourth novel.
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As a final note: has anyone read both this and The Fool’s Tale and think that the Briton is actually a certain character from that book, or am I crazy?
 One day, Bruno comes home to find a maid packing all of his things, even his personal things hidden at the back of his closet. He’s very unhappy and even more so when he discovers that his family is moving away from Berlin, his three best friends, and even his grandparents. At first glance, there are no children near Bruno’s new home, but there are a lot of people who wear striped pyjamas behind a fence. Because Bruno is curious, he wanders away from the house, and his adventure, and all those following, illuminate the mind of a little boy who has no knowledge of prejudice and the true horror to which that prejudice can lead.
I almost can’t talk about my reaction to this book. I sort of want to just say, read this, and leave it at that. That wouldn’t be a very good review, though, and I like to at least pretend that I can write decent reviews. Actually, I do think that if you haven’t read this, it might be a good idea to stop here, because this book is best knowing just what I’ve said and nothing more.
Easily, the best thing about this book is Bruno’s innocent response to everything. He is just a little boy and doesn’t yet understand that all little boys’ lives aren’t exactly like his. This is especially so because his three best friends have very similar lives to his. His parents have kept him ignorant of world events, so he doesn’t know that he is in the midst of World War II. He doesn’t know that he’s moved just outside of a concentration camp or that right now it’s a bad thing that his new friend through the fence is a Jew. In fact, he thinks it’s cool that everyone wears the same clothes, and doesn’t understand that when someone goes missing in the camp, they haven’t wandered off, it’s because they’ve been killed. He doesn’t realize that his father is a high-ranking Nazi and is causing these people to labor, starve, and die.
Bruno’s adorable personality made the book for me. The rest of the characters are shadowy and insubstantial, witnessed only through a little boy’s eyes. Shmuel’s suffering is obvious to us, for example, as people who are well-informed about history, but Bruno doesn’t understand, and as a result his character doesn’t develop very far. As the plot progresses, and Bruno witnesses atrocities and pure human cruelty, he develops hatred for those who perpetuate them, but he still doesn’t grasp the overall situation even as it begins to touch the reader’s heart.
Overall, the beauty and simplicity lies in the fact that Bruno is too young to understand why these things are happening to people who are just like him. His innocence makes the horror almost incomprehensible in comparison, and makes us wonder just how people can be so cruel, thoughtless, and prejudiced against others who are just like us but see the world in a slightly different way.
I loved The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, as much as I can love a book that is about the holocaust if that makes sense, and totally, completely recommend it.
 In October 1899, Elizabeth Holland, one of society’s most fashionable young women, is laid to rest with great ceremony, after tragically falling into a river. What was to have been her wedding day was in fact the date of her funeral. The story, however, is vastly more complicated than that, when the novel speedily backtracks so as to explain just how Elizabeth died. A beautiful, proper society girl, Elizabeth is opposed by her unconventional sister Diana, who refuses to follow the proper rules of behavior. Add in to the mix Penelope Hayes, Elizabeth’s best friend, who is determined to marry New York’s most eligible bachelor Philip Schoonmaker, as well as Elizabeth’s dissatisfied maid Lina Broud and all the pieces are in place for a scandalous tale of love, loss, and revenge.
Reading The Luxe felt a little bit like eating an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s by myself. This is actually an event that has never happened, but I imagine it would be the same: delicious and addictive, but I feel a pervading sense of guilt about it. The book was a very fun, very quick read, and I loved it for the most part. Everything kicks off with a bit of a mystery as we wonder what’s happened to Elizabeth and why on earth her sister is smiling at her funeral. While the resolution of this particular plot becomes very obvious very early on, it was a great way to snap the reader up and by the time we figure out what’s going on, the rest of the story has us engaged enough for the rest of the book to speed by.
Perhaps the unhealthy part about this book is that it is so scandalous. It felt somewhat different from the YA I normally appreciate because the girls are all so catty, promiscuous, and vengeful. Three of them hop into bed with men without much thought for the consequences; one of them actively uses her sexuality to get her way while tearing down her friend over a man who is, quite honestly, not worth either of their time. I suppose these are reasons that I’ve never been into the Gossip Girl series or really any drama about teenage girls since I stopped being one, because the outright backstabbing as shown here is actually common enough in the real world and I don’t need more of it.
Having said all that, there is no way to avoid that despite its questionable morals, I totally loved my time with this book. I found myself speeding through it and thoroughly enjoying myself. I especially came to love Elizabeth and Diana and I really want to know what happens next in their lives. I also loved the setting of New York City in the late nineteenth century. One of my two favorite books, The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton, is also set around this time in New York, and I’ve developed an immeasurable fondness for it as a result. I could just picture these girls heading to the Lord & Taylor on 5th Avenue for fittings!
So, in conclusion, I guess what I’m trying to say is that this book is hugely enjoyable but full of questionable moral standards and teenagers who are not to be emulated. I definitely recommend it to adults, because it’s a whole lot of fun, but I don’t think I’d buy it for a sixteen year old.
 When Meggie is a young girl, her poor family receives the opportunity to go live near and work for her rich aunt in Australia. After eking out a difficult living in New Zealand, her parents seize the opportunity, taking Meggie and their many sons with them to become ranchers on the Australian outback. While living in Australia, Meggie meets the preacher, Ralph de Bricassart, when she is still a child. The ambitious priest and innocent little girl bond unexpectedly, particularly as Meggie grows into a woman with her own wants and desires. This relationship is at the heart of a generational saga about strong, independent men and women determined to make the best out of lives sometimes marred by scandal, heartbreak, and tragedy.
I’ve been looking forward to The Thorn Birds for what feels like a very long time. I read and enjoyed one of Colleen McCullough’s books about Rome, but I’m not so into Roman history and never really went back to the series. When I heard that she’d written this one about Australia and that it was widely recognized as a great read, but mostly from before I was old enough to know about it, I knew it was a must read for me. When Alyce (At Home with Books) mentioned it as one of her before-blogging favorites just before I went home, I decided to take it on the plane with me, and I read the entire thing over one flight.
I love deep, intricate plotlines that span generations of one family like this, and The Thorn Birds was far from an exception to that. Meggie’s mother’s actions clearly have an effect on her, which trickles down to Meggie’s children and their decisions. Meggie’s relationship with Ralph spans most of the book, growing and changing as the characters themselves age and mature. And beyond that, this book really has it all; romance, grief, tragedy, scandal, joy, the struggle of immigration and fitting in, the difficulty of remaining celibate while falling in love, parenthood, sibling rivalry, and so on.
Most of the book is set in Australia and the depiction of it in this novel was stunning. I’m so curious to know if a layer of dust really did collect on everything, if the heat is always that oppressive, and what it’s like to really be a sheep farmer. Obviously the book is set in the early 20th century so things won’t be the same now – I’m sure most Australian homes have air conditioning and women don’t have to wear dresses anymore – but I love stepping back in history and imagining what it might have been like. The Thorn Birds does that wonderfully. The characters also travel; they start out in New Zealand, and eventually go to London, Rome, and Greece, as well as different parts of Australia and different places I’ve probably forgotten. Overall, the descriptions are gorgeous here and it’s very easy to see through the characters’ eyes.
I probably don’t need to tell you after all this that I loved the book, but I will anyway. It was emotionally gripping and compelling and had me spellbound for a good 6 hours as I raced through it. I definitely recommend this to anyone who wants to get lost in these characters and in a huge, decades-long saga.
 From the back cover:
Will and his brother Ned are on the long march from the Fens to North Wales, commandeered into the army of ditch-diggers heading west towards Flint, to prepare the foundations of Edward I’s new castle.
The lads are nervous, and rightly so, for not only is Ned a mute, whose abilities as a horse-whisperer and herbalist make him suspicious in the eyes of their English overseers, but they have been close to the enemy. Ned had been secretly taking lessons in music from Ieuan ap y Gof, an exiled bard, not long before the ‘recruiters’ came. The boys find themselves besieged on all sides – unsure of their own allegiances and in danger of being thought traitors.
Finding Ieuan and saving Ned tests Will to his limits. Finally, when all appears lost, he learns that love is sometimes harder to understand than death itself.
First, I think it’s worth noting that this book is narrated by Will but in three different time periods, denoted by a little symbol. The first is when he is a boy, marked by a shovel, and in third person. The second is the book’s main story, marked by a swan, and the third is narrated by an older Will and marked by a cross, and often this last is directed straight at the reader as if Will’s talking to us. For the most part I liked this, it allows flashback without too much confusion, but it did take me a couple of chapters to realize which symbol was which. After that, I enjoyed the multiple perspectives and almost instantly learning how the characters got to be where they are in the main story. It’s a short book, so the plot isn’t terribly complex, and the multiple viewpoints flesh out the story more.
I also really liked that this book feels medieval. A lot of historical fiction romanticizes everything, and generally I’m okay with that, but on occasion I like a book that is properly grim, violent, and stinky. There’s more to medieval life than that here, but it exudes the atmosphere I can definitely imagine existing around a medieval building site, especially for a castle when they are digging the moat. There is also some violence, people are murdered, but I wouldn’t say that it is too gruesome. Just realistic in a culture where people eagerly stood around to watch men be hanged, drawn, and quartered, and then saw various body parts gradually rotting away on their city walls every day.
Will is probably the only character worth mentioning in terms of likeability, since the other main character, Ned, is mute, but luckily he is likeable. This is something of a coming-of-age for him as he learns a lot about his family and himself over the course of the narrative. He often refers to himself as a skinny, mouthy brat, but I felt like he went beyond that limited definition and came to embrace more of his potential as the book went on.
I really liked Flint. It was a welcome break from more romantic historical fiction and a great, quick coming-of-age story with an endearing main character. I would definitely recommend it to others who enjoy historical fiction or are perhaps looking for something a little bit different than their normal read.
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