|
|
 If you’re hiking somewhere in the UK and you’ve bought a map, you’re probably holding a little piece of the Ordnance Survey in your hands. The governmental organization responsible for mapping the nation, the Ordnance Survey faced a difficult road in its early years to successfully covering the entirety of the UK, including England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland. In the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, maps were inaccurate, expensive, and incomplete, leaving travellers in most of the world unsure about the shape of the space in which they lived. The Ordnance Survey was created for the military, but it quickly became something that ordinary people eagerly followed as the outlines of their world were defined correctly for the first time. In this book, Rachel Hewitt traces the origins of the Survey through to the completion of the “First Series” of maps, where the entirety of Great Britain and Ireland was completely mapped in detail for the first time.
I don’t really know all that much about the Ordnance Survey, except for the fact that most maps seem to come from them, but I was very intrigued by the prospect of the origins of accurate map-making. Another little niche part of history that I know nothing about? Please, tell me more. Hewitt, in great detail, does exactly that, creating a readable early “biography” of an institution, peopled with many intelligent characters and full of descriptions about just how maps were created several hundred years ago.
I will completely at first admit that I didn’t actually come away from this book understanding precisely how maps are made, although I do have a greater knowledge than I did before. The geometry just baffled me; it’s been over ten years since I studied actual geometry and more than eight since I did any sort of mathematical subject, so I would suggest you hold this against me, not the book. I sort of understood the process of making triangles out of the land based on visible landmarks to check accuracy and map everything in between, but if I was ever asked to do such a thing, I’m pretty sure no maps of the world would have existed before satellites. There is enough of this sort of thing here to slow the book down occasionally, but I wouldn’t let it put you off.
What I personally found far more interesting were the people that Hewitt profiles, especially the earliest ones and those who successfully run the Ordnance Survey from its inception on to the conclusion of the book. Their efforts and seeming belief in their hard work was admirable, and I was left with a distinct sense of awe at the actual enormity of the task they were trying to accomplish. There is a fantastic reminder that all of these men (because of course the project was exclusively run by men, unfortunately) were really just people on page 225 of my edition. As a reward for working diligently over four months’ surveying in Scotland, the men are treated to an enormous plum pudding, nearly 100 lbs of it, for which they conscripted many spare pots and pans and bits of cloth, and all took turns watching it boil so it didn’t burn.
The sections I also really liked had to do with place names, or toponymy. Coming up with accurate place names, especially as detailed here in Wales and Ireland, was a severe problem. The mainly English surveyors struggled to understand what people were calling their towns, much less how to spell it, and in Ireland the surveyors met with some reticence on behalf of the Irish (for which no one can blame them). The early Welsh maps were riddled with inaccuracies and the system used to determine place names had to be revised several times – in Ireland, eventually a separate team of all Irishmen was hired just to work out what the accurate names of places were.
In all, I found Map of a Nation to be a completely fascinating piece of history on a subject I really did know absolutely nothing about. I also trusted it more as it originated as a PhD thesis and the huge number of notes and works cited led me to believe that the author knew exactly where she was coming from. At the end, the author has bolded her works cited to indicate which books are most appropriate for further reading, a nice touch which has inspired me to see if I can get my hands on any of her copious recommendations. Those who aren’t particularly used to reading history might find it a bit dry and hard to get through, especially during the parts describing how the map-making happened, but it’s an endeavor that is well worth it.
All external book links are affiliate links. I purchased this book.
 Andrea Nash is broken. Still traumatized in some ways by her childhood as a beastkin, kicked out of the Order of Knights of Merciful Aid, and seemingly single after losing the love of her life, Andrea has no direction. She finds herself sleeping in cupboards, avoiding her friends, and hiding from her true nature. She’s trying to put her life together, in part by running a new investigative firm called Cutting Edge with her best friend, Kate Daniels. One of the first cases that she needs to handle is an investigation at a dig site run by that former lover, Raphael, the alpha of Clan Bouda. Several shapeshifters have lost their lives and it’s Andrea’s job to find the killer, setting her feelings aside for the good of the Pack and all of Atlanta.
This excellent expansion of the Kate Daniels universe is expertly well crafted, giving us a new main character who is distinctly (thankfully) different in voice from Kate and a real character in her own right. Andrea is clever and interesting but hurting constantly, and parts of this book definitely had my emotions in tangles. Her real problem is her nature as beastkin; her father was a hyena first, which means she’s considered a target by much of the shapeshifting world, as she can’t shift properly. Instead, she becomes a hybrid human and hyena, more beautiful and natural in appearance than a normal shapeshifter’s “warrior” form, but discriminated against because of her father’s beast-like nature. Her inability to accept who she is due to this discrimination has led to many of the problems she’s facing and a big part of the book is her acceptance of who she really is and just why she should be loved.
As usual with the rest of this series, the novel is action-packed. I loved the way that Andrea and Raphael interacted; I have always been a fan of them as a couple, but this novel in my opinion took that to new heights. Raphael’s quest to win Andrea back, knowing that she harbored feelings for him, was fantastic. One of my favorite moments was when he carved “MINE” into her kitchen table, a perfect summation of shapeshifter feelings and courtship. If she hadn’t loved him, this might well have been creepy, but in the book it works perfectly, as does Andrea’s retaliation.
Overall, I didn’t find that Gunmetal Magic ever really reached the heights that the books featuring Kate do, mainly because it didn’t quite give me that feel of desperately saving the world that Kate’s books usually manage, but I sincerely hope that there are more featuring Andrea. This could be the start of a fantastic spin-off series.
Also included in this volume is the novella Magic Gifts, which does feature Kate, and lines up with the story in the first part of Gunmetal Magic. Some reviews have advised to read this first; I didn’t read those reviews, so I read this one second. I did think it would probably have been better first, because those parts would have been fresher in my mind, but I certainly wasn’t complaining. I missed this story when it was posted on the Ilona Andrews website (I have since become a devoted follower) and I was very happy to get it, and a little bit of Kate, at the same time. It helps that this story is a good one and brings Kate and all of her gathered crew together to save a little boy from a choking magic necklace.
All I have left to say, really, is when is the next book coming out again? I’ll be first in line to buy it.
All external book links are affiliate links. I bought this book.
 Retiree Harold Fry has spent most of his life, he thinks, being a failure. He’s let down his son, never advanced very far in his career, virtually separated from his wife Maureen despite living in the same house, and lost the only friend he really made. When he receives a letter from that friend, Queenie Hennessey, dying of cancer 600 miles away in Berwick-upon-Tweed, Harold at first simply writes her a nice note and leaves the house to take it to the post box. When he reaches that post box, he thinks – why not go a little further into town? And so begins Harold’s walk up England and his quest to keep Queenie alive, transforming the remainder of his life for good.
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry has been getting tons of press lately; lots of reviews from bloggers and a lot of attention from mainstream media too. Longlisted for the Man Booker Prize 2012 and highlighted by Waterstone’s, I found it impossible to resist reading this charming little book for myself. In fact, I bought and started reading it on the same day, very curious to see what all the fuss was about.
What I found was an insightful, truly heart-warming and moving book about an old man’s quest to find the friend he adores. Harold is such a timid soul; he despises attention and has no confidence in himself whatsoever. He’s not seeking attention and he’s not even sure that he can do it. But he reckons, inspired by a girl he meets in a garage, that if he can walk 600 miles, his old friend from work, Queenie, can stay alive, and maybe even get cured. He loves his wife, Maureen, but the gulf between them is now so wide that he doesn’t even tell her he’s going, bringing us to the other half of the story; the woman left behind.
It’s hard to review this book without really giving away much of the story. I didn’t really know much at all and I liked it very much that way. The story is by turns sad, sweet, and even funny sometimes, as we follow Harold on his unlikely journey north. My heart broke for him and Maureen on a regular basis, it seemed, as they played out the memories of their life together, the slow road they travelled together away from love and towards estrangement. The slide towards taking each other for granted, towards settling rather than striving, towards mediocrity. It makes Harold’s journey so, so poignant and perfect in comparison, the completely unexpected act of a man who has always done the expected.
The book itself is written in beautiful, at times deceptively simple and easy to read yet perfect prose, making the story come to life. Harold’s hardships are by no means ignored; he spends a large part of the early walk in serious pain from lack of preparation until he meets a woman who was a doctor once. The descriptions of the English countryside are beautiful, especially in the beginning of the book, and the level of Harold’s reflection is directly tied to his mood. As I read and experienced their past, I was completely swept away by emotion and found myself near to tears more than once.
There is a reason that The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry has received so much acclaim. It is a simply beautiful, charming, at times heart-rending book that is very much worth your time.
All external book links are affiliate links. I purchased this book.
 Chess Putnam is a ghost hunter, a member of the Church of Real Truth aiming to save humanity from the risen dead. Her job is to investigate hauntings and banish the ghosts that arise, reimbursing citizens for their genuinely reported spooks. But Chess isn’t all good; she’s seriously addicted to drugs and in debt to a dangerous drug lord, Bump. When Bump needs her help with a very dangerous job, Chess has no choice and must oblige him, but with corruption in the church and an alarming attraction to Bump’s lead enforcer and a rival gang leader, she’s in for trouble.
I’ve never managed to say no to more urban fantasy, and when I stumbled upon this book half price at the Strand in New York City back in April, I really couldn’t resist buying it. At first I found it more difficult to get on with, but the origins of a new fantasy world are always daunting. There are new rules of magic to learn, characters to get acquainted with, and bad guys to worry about. Once I was 100 or so pages in, I started to get invested in the story and, as usual, really enjoyed my latest foray into a more city-focused world of magic.
This book is definitely set in the underworld, despite Chess’s job as an ostensible protector of the public. I was really surprised by the fact that she has a drug addiction and that she is severely torn between two different men. Love triangles are fairly typical in books like this, but the fact that she’s attracted to and goes relatively far with both men was a surprise for me. I’m used to the tamer conflict in the October Daye series as an example, where there are competing love interests but the feelings are somehow subtler. With Chess’s drug addiction on top of this, I was surprised I liked her at all, since she’s a person so completely different from me; but I really, seriously did, and I wanted the best for her. I also managed to have a favorite of her two love interests, of course, and I’m looking forward to seeing how that turns out in subsequent books.
I also liked the historical component of the ghosts and the reason behind the haunting that she investigates for Bump; there is a lot of mystery going on here, although I did manage to guess the culprit of one of the mysteries well before Chess managed to figure it out. By the end of the book, I became very swept up in her story and completely sympathetic to her, and I immediately wanted book 2 (and 3, and 4) of the series so I could continue. I’ve read reviews and I know it gets even better, so I’m definitely looking forward to delving even deeper into this world.
Recommended for urban fantasy enthusiasts, Unholy Ghosts is a dark yet enthralling read that will immediately leave you craving more.
All external book links are affiliate links. I purchased this book.
 Bletchley Park is now widely known as the center of British codebreaking during the Second World War, leading to huge advances in intelligence and in computing by some of the geniuses who were recruited to work there. But during and for years after the war, Bletchley Park was treated as a complete secret by the government and the many people who held jobs there during those years. McKay interviewed a number of the Bletchley Park veterans once the information was finally available to the public and has compiled his book in large part from their stories as well as archives held in the Bletchley Park museum.
This book received a lot of coverage towards the beginning of the year and, curious sort that I am, I decided that I should read it for myself and find out exactly what happened at this well-known place. It hasn’t always been well known; the secret was kept for over thirty years after the war and many who worked there went to their deaths without breathing a word of its purpose. More recently, though, the achievements of those who worked within the park have been acknowledged and celebrated, with many of these intelligent people decorated for their efforts.
McKay covers the period right from the start of Bletchley Park, with its purchase and first use, until its eventual abandonment and resurrection as a museum. In between, of course, we meet several of the enigmatic people who worked there. Alan Turing, for example, is given a prominent place within this book, as he is one of the most well-known people who worked on the code-breaking machines which were the forerunners of today’s computers. He interviews a number of people who worked there, including some couples who met and fell in love while working there, and emphasizes mainly what life was like for them, from the conditions of their billets to the meals they ate and the truly grueling work that many of them performed.
For quite a few of them, who were brilliant young people recruited into the service without knowing much about what they were doing, Bletchley Park was something of a continuation of school and university, full of like-minded people who worked hard but enjoyed themselves in the little bit of downtime that they got. But their work was of critical importance to the war, and McKay never dodges around the simple fact that their hard work resulted in a massive amount of intelligence and huge steps taken in the war. He explains how they cracked the codes and the intelligence that resulted, which adds an interesting layer to the history I already know about World War II.
Despite the book’s discussion of computing systems there, I don’t think this is quite the book for those who are more interested in technology, but there are aspects of it involved here. I didn’t really feel like I grasped what was going on in this respect, other than some machines decoded encrypted messages in brilliant ways. Overall the writing in the book is relatively basic; the focus is much more on what happened than literary eloquence.
Very recommended to those who are interested in the history of World War II, The Secret Life of Bletchley Park is an engaging read that delves into the lifestyle behind the scenes in every way.
 Miss Pettigrew is a lonely, desperate fortyish spinster in the whirlwind of social change happening between the two World Wars. Desperate for work, she’s sent by her agency seemingly by accident to work for a nightclub singer instead of the normal group of unruly children. Almost immediately on meeting Delysia LaFosse, Miss Pettigrew’s life starts to change drastically in this heart-warming Cinderella-esque tale. After this day, will her life ever return to normal? Does she even want it to?
I’ve been hearing about Persephone books for nearly the entire time I’ve been blogging, but I’ve never actually owned one before. This is not a proper Persephone, but rather one of their newer Classics editions, highlighting the books that have enjoyed the most success out of those they’ve published. And what a classic this book truly is; I can see why some people hold it up as their favorite book ever, period.
That’s because it really is a proper feel-good novel. It’s a fast read and I loved Miss Pettigrew instantly. Her timidity and anxiety immediately wraps you up in her problems; she’s exactly the same as a shy unemployed single woman would be now in terms of attitude, if in little else. And as soon as Miss LaFosse opens that door, we’re lost right along with her in this madcap comedy, where a proper spinster meets a woman with no less than three lovers and several glamorous friends. It feels completely unlikely and delightful at the exact same time; a fantasy that it’s easy to imagine a woman having at this point in time.
One aspect of this that I really liked is that Miss Pettigrew completely transforms when she is given just a little bit of nudging. In reality, she’s not a timid shy woman; or, rather, she is, but she’s also brave and bold and capable of defying expectations. Society has placed a cloak on her and this novel is all about casting that away and embracing what life might throw at you. And fantasy or not, that’s something that most of us could use a little reminder about ourselves. Miss Pettigrew’s story alternately thrills us and dares us to think what might happen if we stepped outside the boundaries as far as she begins to.
For example:
Flattered, bewildered, excited, Miss Pettigrew made for the door. She knew she was not a person to be relied upon. But perhaps that was because hitherto every one had perpetually taken her inadequacy for granted. How do we know what latent possibilities of achievement we possess? (7)
It’s incredibly delightful. Combine that characterization and transformation with a fantastic atmosphere, complete with a visit to an actual nightclub, Miss Pettigrew’s complete innocence and discovery of the world of men, and a first taste of alcohol, and you have what is a remarkable, charming, adorable read that simply deserves the hours of your time required to read it. I loved it, and next time I’m in a bookshop, you might just find me in front of the row of Persephones, pondering just how many will fit within my budget.
 In 2020, John Boone sets foot on Mars for the first time. Seven year later, 100 colonists arrive, a mix of Earth’s most intelligent people best suited to create a new world in order to deal with the ever-more-crowded Earth. The new colony has been completely prepared for them, with large deposits of materials dropped on the planet over the course of several years, and it’s up to the colonists to set everything up and determine the future course of Mars. As ever, divisions appear almost immediately, between those who aim to preserve the beauty of the planet, those who would like to turn it into another Earth, and those who serve a corporate agenda, among many others. Kim Stanley Robinson’s novel is an epic journey into precisely what it might be like to create an entirely new civilization in the face of pressures from many varied directions.
I took a leap into a new territory with this book and I’m very glad I did. Red Mars is an example of so-called “hard” science fiction, the sort that actually makes plausible sense and has been thought through from a scientific perspective. I chose to buy it because I really wanted to read 2312, but thought I should probably go for a cheaper paperback before I decided I knew I wanted to read the newer release. Red Mars is one of Robinson’s best known books and has garnered a huge amount of high ratings – and that choir is one I’m about to add my voice to.
That’s because I really loved this book. It took me a very long time to read, about a week and a half, which is intense for me, but I was really savouring it and getting involved deeply into the world that Robinson creates around the new Mars. I loved some of his descriptions so much that I even marked out pages, something that I virtually never do. Here is one of my favourites:
She recalled vaulted ruins she had seen years ago on Crete, at a site called Aptera; underground Roman cisterns, barrel-vaulted and make of bricks, buried in a hillside. They had been almost the same size as these chambers. Their exact purpose was unknown; storage for olive oil, some said, though it would have been a n awful lot of oil. Those vaults were intact two thousand years after their construction, and in earthquake country. As Nadia put her boots back on she grinned to think of it. Two thousand years from now, their descendants might walk into this chamber, no doubt a museum by then, if it still existed – the first human dwelling built on Mars! And she had done it. Suddenly she felt the eyes of the future on her, and shivered. They were like Cro-Magnons in a cave, living a life that was certain to be pored over by the archaeologists of subsequent generations; people like her who would wonder, and wonder, and never quite understand. (145)
That passage sums up a lot, to me, about why this book is such a wonderful read. It really is a civilization, but it isn’t exactly created from scratch; instead it’s created from our culture, that which is already all around us, and it’s an incredibly intriguing vision of a future that might yet be. This is science fiction’s purpose, to make us consider what might happen in the future, and I was hypnotized by Robinson’s version of that future.
That’s not to say that the characters aren’t brilliant in their own ways, too. We only spend time with a few of the first 100, but by getting to know them, we experience a whole range of pure human emotion. The span of the book is fairly lengthy, and by the end, most of the first hundred have grown older, old enough to see the civilization they essentially birthed take on a life of its own. But while they are celebrities for that, they are also just people, with all of the little struggles and drama that all of this entails. Despite their intelligence, they suffer grief and loss and experience love and joy in equal measure; they might all be clever but they completely disagree in many ways, and the fabric of civilization stretches and tears to accommodate their dynamic personalities.
It’s all just plain fascinating. There is a small amount of science in this book; they do build various things to help keep them alive, after all, but I never felt particularly overwhelmed or frustrated by any of it. Instead, it just seemed plausible, that the author had considered all sorts of odds and ends that others don’t, and the pure logic behind it made the entire book that much more credible.
In short, a fantastic read, and highly recommended if you’ve ever wanted to try science fiction, or are looking for an addition to your speculative fiction library.
And just to round this post off, two more quotes:
He was losing the crowd. How to say it? How to say that they alone in all that rocky world were alive, their faces glowing like paper lanterns in the light? How to say that even if living creatures were no more than carriers for ruthless genes, this was still, somehow, better than the blank mineral nothingness of everything else? (17)
“The beauty of Mars exists in the human mind … Without the human presence it is just a collection of atoms, no different from any other random speck of matter in the universe. It’s we who understand it, and we who give it meaning. All our centuries of looking up at the night sky and watching it wander through the stars. All those nights of watching it through the telescopes, looking at a tiny disk trying to see canals in the albedo changes. All those dumb sci-fi novels with their monsters and maidens and dying civilizations. And all the scientists who studied the data, or got us here. That’s what makes Mars beautiful. Not the basalt and the oxides.” (212)
 These are my thoughts up to the fifth book of this series. It does continue to a currently available sixth and soon to be released seventh book, but the first five fill a natural plot arch, and seemed a good time to jot down my thoughts on the series. I have reviewed the first book, Spider’s Bite, in with some other mini reviews.
All the books focus on Gin Blanco, who begins the series as The Spider, so named for the silverstone runes that were embedded in her flesh during an attack on her family when she was just thirteen years old. The attack destroyed her family home, orphaned her, and landed her in the street, where she was saved by Fletcher Lane, the man who turned her into the assassin that she is. We learn that the culprit, incredibly powerful Fire Elemental Mab Monroe, is the leader of the gang that effectively runs Gin’s town of Ashland, and that Mab would certainly kill Gin if she connected her with her real identity, Genevieve Snow. Throughout, Gin has to deal with a number of lesser criminals, love affairs, and the complications inherent in most urban fantasy series.
I’ve had a lot of fun with this series, and around the third book, became so addicted that I had to acquire the next two immediately in order to keep going. I’ve read most of it within the space of a couple of months, and have become attached to the characters and very curious about what’s going to happen next. I’m reasonably satisfied with the conclusion of this particular plot arc, but I’m also intending to follow it through to the actual conclusion.
One of the highlights of the series, for me, is Gin’s intense relationships with the people she cares about. She didn’t really need her shell to break down for her to care about people, as she’s been connected closely with Fletcher and Finnegan Lane, Fletcher’s son, since before the book’s beginning. But as the series progresses, we really get to know all of these characters, and to an extent understand why Gin feels the way she does. Her family is full of many different types of people, but all of those are interesting, from Jo-Jo and Sophia, the dwarf sisters, to the flirtatious Finnegan.
 The book also has a number of detailed descriptions of food; Gin is a cook and a baker, and she’ll often prepare a dessert for her friends while discussing some important plot point. This will make you hungry and longing for the various things she’s cooking, whether it’s steak-cut fries (one of her favourites) or some sort of chocolate brownie and ice cream. I did enjoy these and wish I was eating what she was talking about as soon as she started.
One of the big negatives of the series for me, though, is the repetition. The same things are described in every single book at the beginning. Mab is always the Fire Elemental. I learned how Gin got those silverstone runes in her hands, and about the silverstone knives she carries secreted in various places around her body, multiple times per book, I think. I’m not sure if the author assumes we have an impossibly tiny attention span or is simply trying to get new readers into the groove, especially with the plot summaries at the beginnings of each book, but for someone addicted enough to read them right after each other, I will admit that this did get annoying. Gin also has a habit of describing her boyfriends and saying “Mmm” at the end, like she was eyeing a tasty dessert, which put me off as well.
Regardless, this is a series I’ve enjoyed greatly, and would certainly recommend to someone looking for another light urban fantasy read. It’s been a lot of fun, and I’m looking forward to continuing Gin’s adventures.
 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.
 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.
|
|
Recent Comments