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Macro and Cato are a pair of Roman soldiers who have saved the Empire again and again over the course of 10 different novels together. In this installment, they are embroiled in the intrigue that is commonplace in the capital city itself; as they learn, even the mighty Roman empire is just a few days from rebellion when the imperial stash of grain runs out. Macro and Cato are tasked with infiltrating the Emperor’s own Praetorian guard and discovering who wishes to topple the Emperor and cause chaos in the city before it’s too late to stop.
 I’m new to Scarrow’s series about Macro and Cato set across the Roman Empire, currently in the time of Claudius’s rule, but I am a big fan of Bernard Cornwell and this series is considered similar enough to grab my interest. You know the kind of historical fiction I’m talking about; usually that concerned with the grittier realities of battle and intrigue rather than any sort of courtly or royal high life. This is much more firmly on the gritty side, with a fair share of battle, swearing, and conspiracy.
I was curious from the first few pages; a large amount of silver bullion is stolen from underneath the Empire’s nose, leading into a complete scheme to kill the Emperor Claudius. What happens next differs depending who you talk to, but what matters is the Emperor’s life, and so Macro and Cato, who have proved themselves in so many other ways, are set in disguise and placed in wait to discover who is dissatisfied with the Emperor.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, jumping in without having read any of the preceding series, but I found I really didn’t need much prior experience with the characters to get into the story. There is a bit of the backstory between them revealed, mostly as and when it becomes relevant, but it seemed the perfect balance alongside the more fast-paced sections of the plot.
I also loved the touches of research that Scarrow threw into the book. I’ve never really studied the Roman Empire at all, but I have studied classical Latin, and I picked it up immediately when he included the famous phrase that gladiators said to the Emperor before a battle – “We who are about to die salute you” – which is known to have been genuinely said at least once, during the very battle that happens in this book. It was also a new and richer experience for me to read a book set in Rome now that I’ve been there; and Macro and Cato even take trips to Ostia, the port town that I visited which is still so complete. I could envision them walking down those streets, admittedly with a bit more flesh and plaster on the buildings, but the book itself did very well in giving me a mental portrait of Rome and the surrounding countryside.
Praetorian easily stands alone, then, and all by itself had me keen to look into reading the other ten volumes of the series. I’m very curious to see how the relationship between Macro and Cato has grown throughout the series, even if most of them aren’t set in Rome itself, and to pick up on the threads of backstory that were mentioned here. If you’re looking for historical fiction set in the Roman Empire, you can hardly go wrong with this one.
All external links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review from the publisher.
 The Buddha in the Attic is the collective story of Japanese “mail-order” brides who came to the United States before World War II. They arrived to husbands they didn’t know, lives they didn’t expect, and a country that refused to accept them. And just when the Japanese finally began to grow a toehold in the community, the accusation and racism that defined World War II took effect and eradicated them from a visible role in the country for years.
When I saw that this was a finalist for the 2011 National Book Award, I immediately knew I had to read it. I’ve been longing to read Otsuka’s first book, When the Emperor was Divine, for a long time now, but since this was short and available on Netgalley, I seized the opportunity to finally experience this wonderful author for myself. I’m very pleased with the choice I made because this was an excellent book and I enjoyed each and every heartbreaking moment.
Because this is a collective story, it isn’t presented the way you would expect. There are no individual characters. There are Japanese brides, seasick on a boat, leaving behind a multitude of struggles, hardships, and even a scandal or two. There are men awaiting those brides, who may or may not live up to the photos and descriptions they sent across, who may exceed their wives’ expectations or who may disappoint them immeasurably. In less than 200 pages, we’re treated to an extensive range of what may have happened to these Japanese women; even though their experiences can be very different, they start out at the same point and unfortunately all of their stories in this volume end at the same point, with sorrow, heartbreak, and detention camps.
I loved this approach because even though it clearly depicts the difference between individuals, it also highlights the absolute universality of their experiences. It didn’t matter if the women were married to farmers or businessmen or shop owners. The end point for all of them was the same, a camp. And while many women got out of the camps eventually, the experience and suffering was universal. And because they are marked out as individuals in the middle – not by name, but by experience – it’s easy to sympathize with the women and feel that they are human beings, not the “Other” that allowed their fellow human beings to sweep them from their lives and shove them all in one place as “dangers.”
In short, The Buddha in the Attic is an incredibly powerful book, and one that in my opinion is certainly award-worthy. The description on the publishers’ website states that it is a book about the American Dream, and I think that is a particularly apt description – but it’s more about the elusiveness of that dream, and how easily it can be taken away, than anything else. Highly, highly recommended.
 On Christmas Eve, 1800, three men conspire to assassinate Napoleon as he rides by on his way to the theatre. The plot is foiled and Napoleon lives to rule another day – but it’s up to Chief Inspector Roch Miquel to find the culprits. Under pressure from his boss, the famous Minister of Police Fouche, Roch has to weed fact from fiction on a heart-stopping deadline even as the lives of the ones he loves the most are at stake.
This was my first Read-a-thon choice, which generally means I sped through it and actually won’t have much long-term memory of the book. Still: a few impressions that will hopefully guide the curious into deciding whether or not they would choose to read it themselves.
First of all, this is actually a perfect historical fiction read for the Read-a-thon. It’s nicely short, so it can be finished in a speedy amount of time, and the story has enough tension and mystery to help keep those pages turning even later at night, I suspect. Roch is under a lot of pressure as the story progresses, and I really do mean a lot, with his loved ones carted off to jail and his professional expertise called into question even when he doesn’t deserve it.
The story is split between several different viewpoints, although they vary when they appear and generally Roch’s search drives the plot. The beginning of the book is brilliant – I felt immediately drawn into Napoleonic Paris’s dirty streets, fully aware of the hustle and bustle around the Emperor’s path as people jostled to see him. Then, the aftermath of the explosion, which didn’t kill him but did affect many others, was an excellent way to draw readers into the story and keep them wondering about these strange men who so clearly want to kill Napoleon. Not that many people didn’t want to kill Napoleon – but it becomes immediately personal.
Surprisingly, the book even manages to squeeze in a little bit of romance amongst all of this investigating, and some treachery too. It’s very well-rounded with quite a lot going on. I’d definitely recommend For the King as a fast yet absorbing and atmospheric historical read.
All book links to external sites are affiliate links. I bought this book.
 The Bauers are a prosperous, middle class family living in Czechoslovakia. They are patriotic, they celebrate Christmas, and while they’ve suffered their fair share of joys and sorrows, they don’t consider themselves too different from their neighbors. Unfortunately, they are Jews, and even if they haven’t practiced their religion seriously for years, that makes their lives impossibly difficult once the Nazis occupy the Sudetenland. Marta, their son Pepik’s nanny, has no idea what her background is, but her fate is inextricably tied with the Bauers’. It is little Pepik who has far to go, as the family weighs carefully their plan to put him in the Kindertransport system and send him to Great Britain, where they hope he will be free of the Nazi grasp forever.
This novel is presented in three different intertwining parts. The first is the past, the story of the Bauers told through Marta’s voice. The second is in the present, told by an unknown woman seeking a sibling. And the last is a series of letters which are related to the story’s characters and slowly reveal to us their fates as we go along. (The book is about Jews in the area we all know Hitler expanded into in World War II – we know what will happen to at least some of the characters). This was an excellent method for me of telling the story. It added a degree of uncertainty to the past segments, which feels frighteningly straightforward as far as these books go, and had me very curious about the outcome. I did find it a little bit disconcerting to switch around so quickly at the beginning of the book, but I got used to the alternate viewpoints quickly.
One of the most fascinating facets of the book for me was its thoughts on memory. How different was our childhood actually from the way we recall it? How much have we modified history within our own heads? This is so interesting because, as I grow older, I’m often wondering if everything happened as I thought it did. And, in the novel, this of course brings up the question of identity – who are we if we’ve misremembered our past? Without a past, how can we have a future? The book handles this in terms of individuals, but the question works on a much wider scale, especially given the period that this book is about and the essential remembrances we all must take from the Holocaust.
Anyway, I was really surprised by how much I got wrapped up in this book and how much it made me think. Within just a few pages – it’s a short book, roughly 300 pages in my version but with huge font and margins – I grew incredibly attached to some of the characters and interested in their well-being, particularly Marta and Pepik.
In those short chapters, the book conveys so very much – about motherhood, about prejudice, about human nature – that I’d find it impossible not to recommend. Combined with a compelling story, Far to Go is a fantastic choice for anyone interested in the Holocaust. You may start out thinking it’s just another World War II book, but I recommend you let it prove you wrong.
All book links to external sites are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review from Amazon Vine.
 Diminutive Mercy Lavinia Bump, just 32 inches tall, has never been content with her life as a girl in the country. Even when she’s appointed a teacher despite her size, she longs for more. So when her “cousin” arrives offering to put her on display for her singing talents – in reality to exhibit her in a circus – she actually jumps at the chance to escape and see the world. Little does she expect the fame and devastation that will come of her choices when she meets P.T. Barnum and becomes one of the most famous “little people” in the world.
I read a book designed for younger readers about Tom Thumb earlier this year and ever since then I’ve been fascinated by these people, who were clearly exploited but who also seem to have had a role in their own exploitation. After hearing boatloads of praise for Melanie Benjamin after Alice I Have Been, a book I still unfortunately haven’t read, I knew that this was one I really needed to get to. I’m very glad that it lived up to my high hopes and provided the story of a woman who simultaneously takes advantage of her size to get what she wants even as she hates that she is reduced to it; a fascinating practical person who sees the world through very clear eyes, most of the time.
After all, Vinnie, as she’s known to her friends, seems to have very distinctly made her own choices in real life, as she does in this book, and they were at least partly inspired by her desire to see more of the world. She may not have expected to be as exploited as she was, but here she is given a clear opportunity to go home and live out her life, probably as a childless spinster. Is it any surprise that she does take the chance, even if it means exploitation? It’s a fascinating thought process.
I have to admit that I didn’t like Vinnie throughout the entire book. At times, I think she actually makes the same mistake looking at others as she does when others look at her. She looks at her husband and doesn’t see that he’s a person, too; instead she measures his faults and pushes him aside. When she looks at her sister, she can’t see anything but her baby sister, smaller even than she is, even though Minnie is probably one of the strongest characters in the book. Vinnie is a stubborn woman and even as she frustrated me, I appreciated the roundedness of her character, and the fact that she really doesn’t let her size stop her from achieving her dreams.
The Autobiography of Mrs. Tom Thumb is the perfect choice for those who enjoy historical fiction, particularly about the complicated world of circus-style shows in the nineteenth century, and is certainly recommended by me. I look forward to reading Benjamin’s first book and any others she has planned.
All book links to external sites are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review from Amazon Vine.
 Jacquetta of Luxembourg is a woman who, according to Philippa Gregory, history has neglected, mainly for lack of information; married first to the Duke of Bedford and then rather scandalously to Richard Woodville, a commoner, Jacquetta was an observer of many of the most important events during the Wars of the Roses, indeed outliving most of the primary players. Her daughter Elizabeth married the English king Edward IV, catapulting her family even more into the spotlight than ever before.
We start off with Jacquetta as a young girl, where she meets Joan of Arc and learns first-hand what can happen to a woman in English hands who is accused of being a witch. Joan, obviously, had a lot more behind her death sentence than supposed witchcraft, but if that’s what they used to have her killed, it’s a threat to a girl who was supposedly descended from Melusina as well. At this stage, however, Jacquetta and the Duke of Bedford get married, and as it turns out, Bedford is only interested in her because she is a virgin and is supposed to have magical powers. Meanwhile, while trying desperately to see the future, Jacquetta is also busy falling in love with her husband’s squire.
While I actually liked both Jacquetta and Richard, and I enjoyed the alternate perspective on the Woodvilles, portraying them as not grasping social climbers but people, there were still too many flaws with this book for me to enjoy it thoroughly. Jacquetta’s constant foreboding and feelings about the future hindered the book and made her a much flatter character; she knew what was coming too often to have an authentic reaction when these things actually happened.
This also contributed to the massive slowdown in the middle of the book. Jacquetta alternates between court and having babies, and while I know having children should be a joyful experience, I really got bored here. Nothing else actually happens to Jacquetta, and the entire war happens outside of her purview. Her husband gets sent off, and then her son, and she frets about their safety, what feels like over and over again. Since I knew what happened to Richard Woodville, as will many people who’ve read anything else about the Wars of the Roses, this got old fast.
Honestly, part of the reason for this is that Jacquetta just isn’t a compelling enough character on her own, for me, to have a fantastic novel written about her. She would have worked much better as an alternate narrator paired with someone on the sidelines than having a book all to herself. There is too much telling and not enough first-hand witnessing. The beginning was interesting, especially the witchcraft element with Joan of Arc and Eleanor Cobham, but the book loses speed after that and peters out to an ultimately disappointing, though predictable, ending.
Philippa Gregory fans will probably want to add The Lady of the Rivers to their collection, but personally I much preferred both earlier books in this series and would recommend in particular The White Queen.
All book links to external sites are affiliate links. I received this book for free from the publisher.
 Joan of Arc – Jehanne the Maid – is the legendary virgin who heard the voices of the angels and led the French Dauphin to victory, finally, over the English. This book portrays her journey, from the first time she heard the voices of the angels and struggled with what to do up until her capture by the English and untimely execution. All of twelve when she first hears the voices, Jehanne struggles with her mission, her destiny, and with the people around her as she vows to do God’s will and save the French from the English.
I was really looking forward to this book. For me, like for many people obsessed with the Middle Ages, Joan of Arc is a fascinating person. This is more so because if she appeared in the present day, I’m pretty sure she would be sent to a psychiatrist and / or mental hospital, as most people who have visions and hear voices are. In this book, Jehanne (as it is spelled in the French) is also doubted and mistrusted. She must persuade people to believe her and let her lead an army, even though she is only a teenager. It’s a hard struggle, and the book portrays it as such.
But unfortunately, there were just some aspects of it I didn’t like. Jehanne is incredibly introspective for a teenager; even though she recounts the story from the moments before her death, she is almost unbelievably knowledgeable about the people around her. She knows the priests won’t believe her, for example, even though their lives are about religion and surely they would rejoice in her visions, as most of France does eventually.
She’s also puffed up with self-importance, which makes her hard to like as a character. She is The Maid, and people must bow to her as she is in the right. In part, though, I felt that could easily be true to life, because if you had the Archangel Michael whispering in your ear that you would lead the French to victory, I’m pretty sure you’d be self-important too, especially as a teen. It makes Jehanne more human, one aspect that I thought Cutter did extremely well. She is definitely a teenager, even if that concept was foreign to medieval people. None of the other characters really stood out, but they didn’t need to really because the star of the show is genuinely the star.
What I suppose didn’t work very well for me was the atmosphere. I never quite felt like I was in the middle of the Hundred Years’ War. Part of this is down to a lack of detail; not much is actually explained about the history of the conflict or what is actually going on. There is one scene where the tale of Agincourt is told around the campfire, but other than that I didn’t think the scene had been set particularly well. For people who actually don’t know the history of the war, I’m not sure whether they would learn much or feel confused. But then I am a glutton for historical detail, so perhaps this one is just me. I know the author did her research and her author’s note is very thorough, so I didn’t have any problems there; the book just never clicked with me and I didn’t fall in love with it like I wanted to.
I’m not sure what I wanted from this book, but it isn’t quite what I got. What it did give, though, was a very realistic, human portrayal of Joan of Arc, so if you’re looking for that, The Maid is for you.
All book links to external sites are affiliate links. I received this book as a gift from Kathy.
 This is the sixth book in the Saxon Chronicles series, focusing on Uhtred of Bebbanburg, by Bernard Cornwell. Read my review (one of the first on this blog) of the first book if you haven’t read this series before and want to avoid spoilers!
The great King Alfred is on his deathbed, and with that thought in mind, chaos is ready to strike the country that would become England. The Vikings still haven’t been completely vanquished and are a constant threat, but worse are the factions that threaten to split the fledgling kingdom up from within. After nearly being killed up North, Uhtred returns to his king to pay his final homage and to do his best to keep the realm from falling to pieces without a strong leader.
Uhtred remains true to his warrior roots in this novel, more or less constantly fighting to secure his kingdom. It wouldn’t be a book about him without a battle in the shield wall and the adrenaline of a fight well won. But though the battles are well written, they’re not all this series has to offer, and as in other installments, this sixth one has the power to keep us drawn to Uhtred and those he remains close to.
One of these is Aethelflaed, Alfred’s daughter, a true leader of her people. As soon as she appeared in this series, as a young girl, I was thrilled, and I’ve only been more pleased with her development as the series carries on. Naturally, she and Uhtred have become a couple, and very much contrary to the way Cornwell sometimes treats his women, Aethelflaed is developed as the strong, leading woman that history tells us she was, with a bit of loving to round out her character in fiction. I can’t wait to read more about her, and Uhtred’s devotion to her, as the series carries on.
As always, Cornwell successfully delivers a number of other fascinating encounters and adventures for Uhtred. One that sticks in my mind here is his encounter with a mysterious witch and “earth goddess”, a potent reminder that while Alfred’s kingdom is becoming increasingly Christian, the religious landscape of the time was far from black-and-white, even beyond Uhtred’s own Norse beliefs. It also adds a creepy interlude for Uhtred as he’s forced to contemplate the future of this realm he’s committed to defending.
For those who want an adrenaline-filled look into early England, with a fantastic main character who feels like he belongs in that time period, you simply can’t go wrong with this series. Death of Kings is an installment that will keep fans like me very happy and eagerly anticipating the next volume. This is a much grittier variety of historical fiction, perfectly suited to a society based around battle, and provides an excellent change if you’re a bit tired of reading about the same old Tudors.
All book links to external sites are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review from the publisher.
 In her early twenties, Soo-Ja makes a decision that many young women make; she decides which man she will marry. Bound by her family’s traditional values in Korea after the war, she finds herself with no choice but marriage. Her family will not countenance her becoming a diplomat, so when a young man who appears wealthy and influential makes her promises, she chooses him, even though she is in love with another. Once she realizes her mistake, it is too late, and Soo-Ja must come to terms with her life and make the best of what she has left.
This novel made a big impact on me when I read it. Soo-Ja’s despair at her choice, the lies that pile up around her, and her lost ambition all made me feel for her even as I recognized (as many readers will I think) that she makes the wrong choice before she knows why it’s wrong. She loves Yul, a young doctor, but by the time she knows she is wrong, she’s already sinned with Min, and her marriage to him goes forward. It’s only years later when Soo-Ja is run down from paying the bills, caring for her daughter, and pandering to guests that she meets Yul again and longs for him.
But if Soo-Ja were to simply feel sorry for herself, this wouldn’t be the book it is. Instead, she makes the best of everything. She handles the fact that her new family is poor, that her husband won’t work, and that her dreams are gone as best she can and soldiers on. She works to give her daughter a better life, even as she knows that her efforts mean that the young girl favors Min, who spoils her rotten. She takes everything and simply becomes a better person, rather than turning to the bitterness that would have been much easier in that situation. After all, her dreams have been lost to her, and she will probably never get them back.
Park’s writing also does the book a lot of credit. It’s well-done and moves smoothly, and it’s so easy to understand the complexities of the characters while still enjoying the setting, which was new to me. His deft characterizations had me a big fan of Soo-Ja and Yul before I would have thought; after they met again I was firmly behind them getting together again, even as I wondered how it would ever happen with both characters married.
This Burns My Heart is a beautiful love story tinged with sadness and hope, peopled with fantastic characters and underpinned by pitch-perfect writing. Highly recommended.
All book links to external sites are affiliate links. I received this book as a gift from Kathy.
 World War II wreaked havoc on men’s and women’s lives, changing them in ways they never could have anticipated. Next to Love takes us on a journey through the war and the following twenty years of aftermath, as characters learn to live with themselves and try and regain who they once were. The novel follows three women, Babe, Grace, and Millie, who were best friends and whose husbands and boyfriends went to serve in the war. Feldman examines the problems women on the home front faced and the devastation of war away from the battlefields – and the way it never quite lets go of its victims.
I knew I was going to like this book, but I never expected it to love it as much as I actually did. I read it in what felt like a flash, completely enthralled by the stories of these three women and the struggles they have to endure. While they mainly saw themselves as getting on with it, they were really witnessing a pivotal period for women and for the family; their growing strength speaks to the stronger women’s movement that was approaching.
Feldman doesn’t skimp on difficult subjects. Babe’s husband, for example, returns from war changed in ways Babe isn’t sure she liked. We hear about the joyful reunion often; what about the one that is fraught with anxiety? The husband that can’t sleep and suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder? That night before your husband goes to war and you might never see him again? Each woman deals with difficult issues directly related to the war, and then related to moving forward with lives that are irrevocably changed.
The world changes, too. Characters in the book are determined to fight racism. They witness huge changes in status as the American world fundamentally shifts around them. It’s the story of a generation, told through characters that really steal your heart and make you wish that you could keep them with you forever. Babe was my favorite character by far; she just seemed the strongest, the most capable of handling everything that got thrown at her. And there is a lot for her to handle. That isn’t to say I didn’t like the other women; I certainly did and I was invested in their stories, too.
A gorgeous novel, I’d recommend Next to Love to anyone who enjoys historical fiction, especially that set around World War II with amazing, strong women at its heart. This is an excellent book and I am so glad I read it.
All book links to external sites are affiliate links. I received this book for free from Netgalley.
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