|
|
 Henry Skrimshander is an outstanding shortstop and it’s that which draws Mike Schwartz to recruit him to Westish College in Wisconsin. Within a very short space of time, Henry has revitalized the Westish team and brought them victories that had been vastly beyond their reach. But with one missed throw, Henry’s entire life is thrown off balance. Who is he, if he can’t always throw perfectly? And what is the team without him? Surrounding Henry are all of the dramas of closed-in literary college life; affairs with professors, mature students, deadly dull jobs, and even a bit of studying every now and again.
It’s taken me a while to review this book, which I’m not sure is entirely positive; I loved it and I felt like I had a lot to say about it once I’d finished, but I left it a long while to actually sit down and write. The Art of Fielding is a book that, without question, has received an enormous amount of hype. Even before Kathy brought it across an ocean for me, she told me that it was going to be one of the big releases of 2011, and I’ve watched it receive review after review. I managed to keep myself away from spoilers of all kinds and experience the book for myself, though, when I was ready for it.
I made the right decision, because I loved this book. I felt as though it tapped right down into a deep sense of American nostalgia, a story about being the best you can be and what happens when you’re not sure you can achieve that any longer. Where do we go once we’ve hit our peak? Not only does Henry experience this, but each of the other characters are faced with periods of monumental change and the fact that their lives simply can’t be the same again. It reminded me of my own leaving college; I loved my time there and even now when I look at the pictures I’m blasted with a ton of nostalgia. But I’ve moved on, and these characters have to move on, too, regardless of whether their stardom is behind them or right in front of them.
At times, I did feel the book was a little bit long; there was one particular spot in the latter middle where I felt the story was dragging. But for the most part, I got completely swept up into this world. I’m not a fan of baseball, although I certainly know my way around a field mostly because I grew up amongst Yankee fans and went to a public high school. That may have helped, but I think the book is deeper than that and touches something universal – it might apply to baseball, but it might equally apply to a writer who isn’t sure he or she can ever write a novel as good as their first, or a musician who fears becoming a one-hit wonder. If that should happen, when do we let go? Or do we carry on trying?
I know this review is not really a review – it’s very obscure, instead. But I think The Art of Fielding is a book that is well worth your time. It was a surprisingly fast read, for its size, and it swept me up in its simultaneously grandiose and personal story. I recommend it.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free – thanks again Kathy!
 After falling in love with Jack Hampton during the course of The Tory Widow, Anne Merrick has fully devoted herself to the Patriot cause – but because she’s still known as a Tory, she’s infiltrated their camp with her loyal maid, Sally. Anne and Sally have the dangerous job of not only discovering information, but passing it on to the men without being spotted. Naturally, this means tensions are constantly running high, but never higher than when the Patriots and Redcoats clash in battle, and Anne and Sally fear for all of their lives as they try to win the day for their cause.
I’ve enjoyed all of Christine Blevins’s books so far, and this one isn’t an exception. It takes a slightly different approach than the first two; because it isn’t a romance at all really, since Jack and Anne are together at the start and remain in love throughout the book. It’s a direct continuation of the first book. In all, the sole thing that confused me was the title – Anne already turned, and I didn’t really see her going back to the Tory cause after falling in love with Jack. I’ll forgive the book that, though, as I quite enjoyed the story as it progressed onwards.
Like in the last book, Anne is a strong, independent woman with a taste for the world. She and Sally are very successful in what they do; the book demonstrates this effectively by opening with the two of them accidentally killing a massive snake. They’ve made themselves indispensable to the Tories, but all that means is that Anne can see both sides of the war. She firmly believes in independence, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t find herself befriending various other people in the camp and witnessing the horrors of war for herself. Since she’s not directly in battle, these don’t come about too often, but Jack’s often in the thick of things himself.
I also enjoyed the atmosphere that permeates the book. There’s a real sense of desperation, hope, and upheaval among the patriots. Blevins has set the book right at the turning point of the war, as she explains in her author’s note, which makes for an exciting read. Having those little trinkets that she sent really helped, too – as soon as a character mentioned a bayberry candle, I knew what it was going to smell like, and I could fall a little bit deeper into the world she created. This is a great book to read with a cup of tea by your side anyway, not only to help with the atmosphere – we’re still right in the midst of the American Revolution, after all, and the characters are often drinking tea when they can.
I would definitely recommend these books to historical fiction fans – The Turning of Anne Merrick has less romance than the previous two, so if that was putting you off, don’t let it stop you here. I would however recommend you read The Tory Widow first; the backstory becomes more valuable as the novel progresses. I’m looking forward to seeing what Christine Blevins writes next!
This review is part of the Historical Fiction Virtual Book Tour – here’s the full schedule and information for more reviews!
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review as part of the tour.
 Subtitled “The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking”, Susan Cain’s Quiet takes us on a journey through history and into the present, understanding why exactly introverts and the skills that they have are devalued in present day American culture. We also take a look into the brains of introverts and whether it’s nature or nurture that turns some of us inward and others outward. She then offers helpful hints on how introverts can deal with modern careers and find space for themselves in a world that demands meetings and presentations as indicators of business success. Rounding out the book with interviews and advice for parents with introverted children, Cain has provided an interesting study of many different aspects of “sensitive” personality types.
I am decidedly an introvert, and I imagine most people reading this blog are too – in general, we are people who need space away from the world to recharge our batteries, people for whom speaking in public is a struggle, and who essentially work best on our own. Cain offers a lot of definitions and also provides a little list towards the start of the book to help readers identify if they are actually introverts – she also takes pains to stress throughout that many people actually have aspects of both introversion and extroversion. This is not a black-and-white science.
I found it quite inspiring to read about how many introverts have changed the world. As an introvert who has learned to cope surprisingly well (I’m always shocked when someone doesn’t think I’m shy, and it happens more often than you’d think), I definitely felt refreshed by the knowledge that lots of other people do better with space to contemplate. The history of the subject was also interesting, especially the ways different cultures handle these personality types. It’s not surprising that more Americans count themselves extroverts than Chinese – part of it is definitely culture emphasizing ideals. But the other part is genetics, and even though we can learn to cope quite well, her strategies gleaned from interviews and personal experience are thoughtful.
I did feel a little bit at times that she swung a little too far in the direction of introverts – but given this is a book attempting to empower us, I can’t be too surprised at that. The other part I (obviously) did not find useful as a childless woman was the advice for children, and having read it I’m not sure it would have helped me as a kid. But I’ll leave that up to parents to decide – life isn’t easy for shy children, and helping them accept their personalities while giving them the skills to succeed can never be a bad thing to attempt.
Quiet is a worthwhile read for both introverts and extroverts – so the former can feel much more at home in their own skin and so extroverts can learn more about life on the other side of the divide. And if you’re in between, even better.
All book links to external sites are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review from Netgalley.
 As a result of an unfortunate accident with another boy, young Prince Patroclus is exiled from his homeland and sent to grow up in a foreign land with a set of strangers. In Phithia, his new home, he is merely one of many boys growing up under the shadow of the king and his half-god son, Achilles. Almost immediately, Achilles takes Patroclus under his wing and draws him into a new, mythical world, where Achilles is destined to become the world’s greatest warrior and Patroclus his steadfast, fervent lover.
I can’t do justice to this book with my review. It is simply incredible – moving, emotional, mythical, and simultaneously epic and close in scope at the exact same time. If I had to say one thing to you about it, I would say, please read it, it is incredible.
Let’s start with the setting. The Trojan War is relatively familiar for people versed in mythology and literature; if not, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Trojan horse and the face that launched a thousand ships. This takes place around that war, primarily because it is there that Achilles will become a legend. This is The Iliad, but personal, close, and loving; for the first time I felt like I could understand Achilles and Patroclus’s relationship and just how they got to that final, brutal, excruciating point of both their lives.
This is truly a fantastic retelling, one that manages to be both timeless and relevant. Achilles and Patroclus have existed for thousands of years in readers’ minds, but in our society today, many people wish that a relationship like theirs would not exist – a travesty, if you ask me – but a book like this demonstrates just how beautiful that relationship can be, and moreover, how appropriate. It’s partly a romance, writ large on the world stage as these two players tangle with gods and the most powerful of men.
Speaking of gods, there are plenty here, and they walk the world right alongside the characters. Patroclus and Achilles encounter figures of their own legend, like those who trained Hercules, and Achilles’s mother Thetis is a goddess. Their power is appropriately terrifying, especially for Patroclus, who has the dubious role of keeping Achilles from fathering further children, and thus earns his mother’s wrath.
For anyone who may have the slightest interest in a literary, romantic take on The Iliad – The Song of Achilles is a book for you. Very highly recommended.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review.
 Barbara is a young Polish orphan when she enters the Russian royal palace seeking the assistance of Empress Elizabeth, who once vowed to help her. Barbara, called Varvara by the Russians, is taken on as a spy, trained by the Chancellor in hearing careless remarks, sneaking down passages, deciphering facial expressions, and making love. When young Sophie comes to court as a bride for the Empress’s heir, Varvara is placed near her, urged to watch her every move. Sophie is not merely a docile bride for the future Tsar; she is the future Catherine the Great, and every disappointment she endures as a young woman is merely fuel for the great reign she will have over Russia.
Russia has always enchanted me, and lately it seems that it has enchanted many readers, too; after the popularity of Robert K. Massie’s newly released biography of Catherine the Great, The Winter Palace has arrived as an excellent fictional retelling of Catherine the Great’s life, capturing another tier of readers with the enthralling story of this Empress of All the Russias. This is the first of two halves, covering the period from Catherine’s arrival to the Russian court as Sophie, an obscure German princess, to her triumph as Empress Catherine the second.
Stachniak’s approach, showing us Catherine through the eyes of a woman who was her friend, is a very clever one, because it not only introduces us to a character we can care about, who is aware of all of the secrets in all aspects of Russian courtly life, but it also lets us view Catherine’s development through another pair of eyes. Varvara could have become a mute vehicle for Catherine, but instead she is a fully fleshed out character in her own right, with her own mistakes, successes, and loves outside of Catherine’s sphere. Her position makes her vulnerable and powerful simultaneously; as a bookbinder’s daughter with access to the most powerful people in Russia, she suffers from this odd dichotomy more than once. It’s easy to feel for her, especially when she uses the agency she has to make the wrong decisions, the repercussions of which she only comes to understand later on.
Of course, it’s probably Catherine who should be considered the star of the show here; from a young girl studying relentlessly in her room to understand Russian language and culture to a woman conscious of her power, she undergoes radical change in the course of this book. But because Varvara is close to her, it’s never hard to understand how that change has happened. We can almost witness her hardening, her learning, her ferocity growing as the politics begin to change and warp her innocence. The end of the book confirms that, perhaps, it happens sooner than we’d like to think, but it is a fascinating journey nonetheless.
All of this excellent character development is wrapped up in the gorgeous settings of the Russian court, beautiful trappings for a scheming court. It’s easy to get lost in Stachniak’s writing and her evocative descriptions. The story is smoothly crafted, too; there were a few moments towards the middle of the book where I got impatient, mainly because I knew what was going to happen and I didn’t like waiting, but looking back, I think everything was necessary for the plot to wrap up completely. My mood matched that of the characters.
An excellent choice for historical fiction readers, especially those who are eager to learn about Russia or Catherine the Great. Highly recommended.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book free for review from Amazon Vine.
 Spartacus is famed as a warrior, a Thracian who led a band of rebellious gladiators against the might of the Roman republic. Ben Kane has taken this story, only the bare bones of which exist in historical record, and crafted a duology of fiction novels around those bones. This, the first, covers the story of Spartacus’s rise from a trapped and betrayed gladiator to the leader of an army capable of striking fear into the heart of the experienced Roman legions.
Spartacus: The Gladiator isn’t the first book Ben Kane has written about Rome, but it is the first of his that I’ve read so far. In the tradition of Bernard Cornwell and Simon Scarrow, this is a book about the darker side of historical fiction, full of battles, rough men, and treachery. Amongst all this is Spartacus, a man who clearly stands apart due to his natural sense of leadership and his stringent moral code, which extends completely outside the battlefield.
Like many choosing to read a book like this, I was seeking an active and exciting plot, and in this respect, Spartacus: The Gladiator delivers handily. Even though we know the lead character must survive – how else would there be a second book about him? – that doesn’t mean everyone else will. Several of the other characters have viewpoints, namely Ariadne, Spartacus’s wife, and Carbo, a Roman who becomes a gladiator after falling deeply into debt. We also sometimes witness events from the other side, usually through the eyes of Roman consuls and generals who are about to get massacred by Spartacus’s ever-growing army.
I liked both Ariadne and Carbo; each served a different purpose for seeing Spartacus through other eyes, albeit adoring ones. The great warrior wins their loyalties differently, by treating Ariadne with respect she’s never received from other men, and by believing in Carbo despite his Roman origins. In this way, we can see just why Spartacus was a natural leader, and start to believe why his rebellion started to meet with success.
This is not a book for those who actively dislike battle scenes. It may also contain triggers because there is more than one rape scene – I wouldn’t call any of them gratuitous, as each furthers the plot and causes significant reactions in different characters – but I could easily imagine them becoming upsetting. This is the Roman world, however, and when you’re reading a book about a war fought by deprived and vengeful men, it’s unfortunately to be expected.
I’m not particularly familiar with the legend of Spartacus, but Kane fills us in with a handy endnote, explaining what exists and what he extrapolated from the evidence. It’s fantastic when authors do this. Naturally, some of the characters are fictional, and no one is even sure Spartacus actually came from Thrace, because he might have been assigned that once he’d become a gladiator. But his battles and his comrades are recorded enough that the story follows the timeline as it happened.
If you’re seeking more historical fiction set in Rome in the days of the Republic, from the viewpoint of the oppressed, Spartacus: The Gladiator is a good choice.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review from the publisher.
 Many of the most famous love poems were inspired by a real life love story. This is certainly the case with John Donne, whose romance with Lady Ann More led to some of the most beautiful, and sometimes risque, poetry in the English language. Though living in relatively stringent Elizabethan England, where societal rules and status were carefully enforced, the relatively high-born Ann falls deeply in love with John, a man who could not properly support a wife at the time. Free-spirited, devoted Ann isn’t willing to let that stand in the way; this is a story of courtship, of frustration, and of literary genius.
I can’t remember where I got this book; I think it got sent to me for review a while ago, and ultimately that was the reason I finally gave in and picked it up. I haven’t been properly in the mood for historical fiction for some time now, but The Lady and the Poet is such a beautiful, deep, provoking book that it held and indeed rewarded my attention once I finally began reading it.
First of all, let me say that this particular book truly feels historic. It doesn’t just throw relatively modern characters into a setting with fancy dresses, but instead has characters who fit seamlessly into their environment and give us a thorough idea of what an Elizabethan couple might have had to deal with. Ann and John’s love story is actually documented, and the sacrifices they made for one another are firmly rooted in history, which makes this book all the more enchanting, at least for someone like me. I loved the re-imagining of the lives of these two people. The Lady and the Poet reminded me why I enjoy historical fiction so much in the first place.
Secondly, the literary appeal can’t be overstated. Donne wrote a lot of poetry; I even managed to study some of it during my English major days. Haran doesn’t let all that richness fall to the wayside, instead incorporating Donne’s work into the plot, into the love story, and strengthening the story as a whole by using what probably was inspired by Ann in the first place within the book. Much of his work rings true, and knowing that it was written by the man himself adds that extra layer of authenticity and emotion to the book which just doesn’t exist otherwise.
Finally, the book is both gorgeously written and seamlessly plotted, stringing the reader’s attention along the years and the struggles, providing details and descriptions enough but never overwhelming the reader with useless historical detail (although I’ll be the first to admit that I would be happy with more than most). We feel as though we’re in Tudor England, but we’re in the expert hands of a guide we can trust.
The Lady and the Poet is a quiet book, a love story, but one that will worm its way into your mind and heart and refuse to leave. An exceptional choice for those who love historical fiction.
 William the Conqueror is one of the most well-known figures in English history, and for good reason; with a single battle, he ended the Anglo-Saxon rule of England and changed many aspects of governance, aristocracy, and even language. That’s simplifying things just a bit, but the impact of the Norman invasion on England can’t be overstated. Left behind in the traditional story of great-men-doing-great-things is Queen Matilda, William’s wife and a power in her own right. What influence did she have on William? On the conquest of England? On her children, who went on to rule the country themselves? That is the story Borman aspires to tell in this biography.
I’m not unfamiliar with Matilda; not only have I read about her in fiction, I learned quite a bit about the actual history of her life, too. This book regardless had a lot new to offer and a lot of fodder for thought, especially when it comes to the role of the woman in the medieval world. Borman posits that Matilda’s strong leadership role was preceded and followed by women who expected the same, and that truly there was more of a step backwards after her reign.
For instance, one of Matilda’s namesakes, “Empress” Matilda or Maude, is the prime example. Henry I made her his heir and asked his people to swear loyalty to her – so while he clearly had worries about it, he didn’t pass over her to choose a male heir. Was this the influence of his mother? It’s a fascinating question, and makes the social dynamics that followed Henry I’s death even more intriguing.
Borman also takes a relatively in-depth look at the myths surrounding Matilda and the motivations behind what other people said about her. This is always fascinating stuff for me – I love thinking about how various chroniclers and historians have twisted and portrayed things in ways that suit them best. Matilda suffers this quite a bit and it’s interesting to see Borman’s perspective on which bits are more or less correct. She puts to bed some of the more outlandish tales, like William beating Matilda to a pulp for her to agree to marry him – the world was different then, but probably not THAT different, and Borman’s logic is reasonable.
I also loved that Borman asserted Matilda’s power and influence as both duchess and queen. She witnessed a large number of charters and was personally responsible for ruling in her husband’s absence, something most of us don’t really associate with the Middle Ages. For a piece of chattel, she made and helped with many decisions, and it’s a mark of her influence that she was deeply mourned upon her death. Borman does the usual speculation, pondering what effects Matilda’s “softening” influence may have had while she was alive, as she vividly contrasts William’s rule after her death with those years before.
Overall, Matilda: Queen of the Conqueror is a truly fascinating book for anyone who is interested in female power just before the High Middle Ages. Matilda presents a thoughtful contrast to those who came after; this book would actually fit in wonderfully with Helen Castor’s She-Wolves. Highly recommended.
 Annabel simply cannot wait to marry her fiance, even though she doesn’t really love him. Why? Because he’s an earl and he can finally confer upon her family the respectability she knows they deserve. Growing up in a Mississippi backwater and learning that love doesn’t lead to anything other than heartbreak has taught her that status and contentment matter above all else. But that’s not enough for Annabel’s family, none of whom likes her fiance, and in act of desperation, her uncle pays Christian du Quesne, the duke of Scarborough, to persuade her to call off the wedding.
Christian can’t turn down an offer like that, not with his estate in ruins and his refusal to marry an heiress himself. He needs the cash to start investing and making money back. So he agrees, but finds himself longing for more than the money once he meets Annabel and realizes that she really belongs with someone better than Rumsford – himself.
I can’t believe I only discovered Laura Lee Guhrke with this series. How could such an awesome author have been writing books for longer than I’ve been reading romance without me noticing? It doesn’t matter anyway; I’ve discovered her now, and I’m quickly learning that I am going to simply inhale anything she writes. As with the first two in this trilogy of books about being abandoned (or doing the abandoning) at the altar, I just loved the emotional journey of this book and I’m thrilled I had a chance to read it.
On a shallow note, just look how gorgeous that cover is. I’m so pleased that yellow seems to have taken over historical romance covers temporarily, as it’s my favorite color and it suits them well.
Anyway, this book ticked all the right boxes for a wonderful romance. Annabel is a heroine who has been hurt before, suffering from a man who took serious advantage of her and then left her to fend for herself. With a little sister to look after, Annabel’s mission ever since has been to ensure that nothing like that ever happens again. A fortunate endowment from her long-absent and now-dead father means that she can buy her way into the nobility, and so she settles for a man who will provide her with the firm position in society that all poor girls dream of.
Enter Christian, a man who is hell-bent against marrying after the disaster that happened to his first wife. He falls head over heels with Annabel almost at first glimpse; he’s then fixed on helping her avoid her no-good fiance at all costs. But Rumsford, the fiance, isn’t really a villain, just a fairly typical aristocrat with a bit on the side; he’s a foil to get Christian and Annabel together. Once he does so, the book simply sparkles, and had me riveted to the Kindle’s screen as these two come together with, in the end, everything they have.
Trouble at the Wedding is a wonderful, emotional, sometimes funny book that will win the heart of any romance reader. Highly recommended.
All external links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review from the publisher through Netgalley.
 Carrying on with her series inspired by fairy tales, The Duke Is Mine puts a twist on the tale of the Princess and the Pea with this historical romance. Tarquin, the Duke of Sconce, is seeking the perfect bride – or at least his mother is on his behalf. Miss Olivia Lytton – not even a lady – is hardly the perfect choice, particularly as she’s been betrothed to another duke since her birth. While Olivia’s sister Georgiana fits the bill, Tarquin can’t take his eyes from curvy, funny Olivia – but how can they surmount her betrothal and his mother’s expectations in order to be together?
I liked the concept behind this book a lot, but it was one of those where too many obstacles fell away from the couple’s feet almost effortlessly so they could be together. In fact, I think it may be the first romance by Eloisa James I’ve had problems with, because I ordinarily love her books.
Let me explain; it’s not that I didn’t have a good time with this book. In fact, I flat out loved the first two thirds. It’s impossible not to feel for Olivia, a girl who describes herself as fat and loud and who tries to suck in her stomach so she doesn’t offend anyone, simply because she doesn’t fit the willow-thin, mouth-shut society-dictated stereotype. To make things worse, she’s not particularly fond of her future husband, but she considers herself resigned to her fate. In Tarquin’s eyes, she is curvy, hilarious, and immediately attractive. She’s a breath of fresh air amidst a crowd of stick-thin debutantes, one of the only romance heroines I’ve read about who does actually have a healthy amount on her bones and is decidedly not a wallflower.
After the couple do fall in love and all secrets are revealed, though, I really started to get frustrated with it. I felt as though all the romantic layers had fallen away so the couple could be together with an incredibly contrived situation to remove any problems. Obviously, many romance novels do this, but good ones shouldn’t make it so obvious. It’s the case of a perfectly good romance spoiled by the addition of a subplot that does incorporate the fairy tale but otherwise seems far, far too convenient. I wanted the couple to face what they’d done and come out stronger, not just escape without anyone ever actually realizing what had happened.
Anyway, if that’s what you go in expecting, I know you’ll enjoy this book; and for what it’s worth, it may have been my mood that made this so irritating to me at the time. But for a book that started out so well, I ended up disappointed. I’d recommend the other two fairy tale books instead, or at least to start, before you venture into reading The Duke Is Mine. Eloisa James really is a fantastic author, and it would be a shame to miss out on the rest of her work.
All book links to external sites are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review from Netgalley.
|
|
Recent Comments