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 The love story of Marc Antony and Cleopatra is legendary. The question asked less often is what happened to their children after they killed themselves? Michelle Moran tackles this question by exploring the lives of the three children who were taken by Octavian and the rest of the Romans through the eyes of the one of the twins, and the only girl, Kleopatra Selene. Practically stranded in a totally new world, twelve-year-old Selene and her brother Alexander must learn how to live in ancient Rome while watching every step, perpetually in danger of losing their lives.
I don’t know how high my expectations for Michelle Moran are going to have to be set for her to fail to match and surpass them, but she has done so in this book. Cleopatra’s Daughter is a great read and proves that the author can portray Rome with just as much skill as she has applied to Egypt. The novel starts out in Egypt with a bang as Octavian and his warriors invade, causing Cleopatra and Antony to kill themselves in desperation. Selene, Alexander, and Ptolemy are whisked away on a boat, on which Ptolemy dies. Selene already knew her life was never going to be the same, and the loss of not only her parents but her baby brother causes her to both fear and gather her strength. She vows that she and her brother will regain Egypt.
In Rome, the already great characters of Selene and Alexander are matched with teenage Roman children as their friends. These kids are nice, well-rounded secondary characters, especially Selene’s friend Julia, who has plenty of her own problems to deal with. Moreover, they are figures from history, and reading about them as they might have been as children is exciting.
The twins interact with the highest levels of Roman society, but Selene in particular still feels like a young teenager, albeit an intelligent one. She experiences her first crush and develops her interest in architecture, while coping with Octavian’s horrible wife Livia, who is determined to thwart her and humiliate her at every turn. It’s easy to relate to Selene in the midst of a great deal of foreignness and danger, which is why this book also works as a fantasy YA novel. Plus, I adored the way the love story angle wound up. I knew it was one based on the dedication, but it took a good long time for me to figure out who Selene loved exactly. When the pieces fell into place, I realized I had seen it all along without really thinking about it.
These are not only dangerous times for Selene and Alexander but for Rome as well, which experiences the beginnings of a slave rebellion, and a mystery as to who the ringleader is. No one is safe from suspicion. This mystery definitely powers the plot along since Selene herself doesn’t have all that much to do. Luckily, her voice is strong enough that she is still an ideal choice for narrator; she has inside information and she is by far the most interesting character.
I’m happy to be able to say that I definitely recommend Cleopatra’s Daughter. This is a very solid historical fiction novel with enchanting characters, a richly described setting, and an enthralling plot.
 This work of history takes a look at the multi-generational Paston family throughout the years immediately after the Black Death and through the Wars of the Roses. The Pastons left behind an immense number of letters which have been miraculously preserved for six hundred years and as such are a historical treasure trove for those of us who wonder how gentlemen lived in the fifteenth century. Helen Castor recounts the rise and fall of their fortunes here, illuminating their individual personalities; the tenacious women, especially Agnes and Margaret, the hard-working William and John and the at times disappointing John II. Using the Pastons as a lens, Castor picks up larger issues at work in fifteenth century England and provides a fascinating biography about a surprisingly ordinary family.
I read this one for my dissertation, so I paid much closer attention to it than I would have otherwise. To my surprise, I still really enjoyed it. Helen Castor writes clearly and succinctly, so that while we’re learning facts, we don’t feel bogged down by too much academic language. She also summarizes quite a bit of information about the period, so I think this would be useful for even those who aren’t too familiar with fifteenth-century England. Even though I’m well acquainted with the Black Death and the manueverings of the Wars of the Roses, it is integrated enough into the Pastons’ story so as not to become boring.
I have personally read quite a number of the Paston letters; they’re invaluable because the Pastons were intimately involved at court and reflect the surprising amount of social mobility available shortly after so many died in the Black Death, so they have both an insider’s perspective and a consciousness of where they had come from. Castor reflects this well and does a very admirable job condensing the contents of the letters and quoting them where necessary to provide a steady, smooth narrative. It does falter occasionally because the Pastons were embroiled in a seventeen year struggle to reap some benefit out of Sir John Fastolf’s will after John I became closely involved with him. This can get boring, but the way the families’ characters show through the struggle kept me reading and it was certainly worth it in the end.
This would be a wonderful book to start with for anyone who is interested in familiarizing themselves with fifteenth century England. For those who have enjoyed the recent spate of historical fiction centered around the Wars of the Roses, Blood and Roses would be an excellent choice to broaden your knowledge of the period while avoiding writing that feels too academic or stilted. I highly recommend it.
 Leopold Dautry, the duke of Villiers, has a serious problem. He’s just realized that his six bastard children are not in the reliable schools that he thought, but rather shoved off into the cheapest places possible so that his soliciter can keep all his money. While he sets about finding his children, he knows that he needs a noble wife to help him introduce them into society and keep them in his house. He needs the daughter of a duke, which leaves him two choices, Eleanor, the daughter of the duke of Montague, and Lisette, the daughter of the duke of Gilner. Eleanor is beautiful and makes him laugh, but Lisette, while considered mad, cares nothing for society’s dictates and adores children. Villiers must make a difficult choice between them in order to find the woman who will not only be the mother of his children but the companion of his dreams.
This is the sixth entry in Eloisa James’s Desperate Duchesses series, and while knowledge of what’s gone before would help, I think this one actually does a great job standing on its own. This is because it’s focused directly on the couple at hand and their relationship is all new. While Villers’ character has been brilliantly developed over the course of these six novels, this one builds enough on that to make it stand alone, particularly when he finally falls in love. And it’s all done in Eloisa James’s witty, clear prose, which immediately draws me in and won’t let me stop reading.
I hestitate to spoil exactly which woman Villiers falls in love with, although it is somewhat obvious from page one. If you’d like to read this without any indication of what’s going to happen, please stop reading now! The back cover is right in that he chooses between logic and passion. He believes for a while that Lisette would be a perfect choice for his children. She likes to play with them and she ignores society completely; but what he doesn’t see (and what is fairly obvious to the reader) is that she is like a child herself and as such would be completely incapable of caring for them. I’m not sure what’s meant to be wrong with her, but it certainly doesn’t make her an appropriate mother and wife.
Eleanor, on the other hand, is an amazing heroine. Having set her heart aside for her childhood love, who also happens to be a duke, Eleanor declared long ago that only a duke would do. If her love was forced to marry someone else, she would remain true to him. After a number of years, however, Eleanor is lonely, and wishes she hadn’t issued that silly statement. At this point, a duke appears on the horizon, searching for a wife, and almost immediately Villiers and Eleanor strike a deal. Watching them become friends after that and then fall in love is a beautiful thing. It’s made even more so by the fact that Eleanor believes – and at times I believed even though I knew this had to have a HEA – that he is going to choose Lisette. They can’t help loving each other because they genuinely like each other, and in my opinion the fact that they have both this and the chemistry going on is a wonderful achievement.
This book was for me the capstone on a series that has turned out to be wonderful. At first consumed with too many secondary characters, by the fourth book they begin to come into their own and steal the show. Over the series, I have grown to love Villiers most of all, and this is the perfect ending for him. I can’t recommend A Duke of Her Own enough. I kind of wish I could read it for the first time all over again.
 Ever since Katie lost her mother, she and her father, who restores old paintings, have rattled around in their big house, almost consumed with grief. Nothing is the same without her mother; Katie abandons her friends, her interests, and spends time remembering. As a balm for her soul, Katie gets away by taking a summer job at a nearby estate, digging up the garden and soon enough a mystery to go with it. In the midst of discovering another woman’s story, Katie begins to clarify her own, to reach out and embrace life and love in just the way her mother might have wanted.
It’s easy to explain why I loved Nothing but Ghosts. It is deep and meaningful and poignant, relieved by the mystery and the hint of a love story, written in absolutely stunning language. Kephart’s prose is the kind that you get lost in; almost poetic in its beauty, it had me thinking about certain lines, going back to pick up the pieces of something I’d just discovered, and at times just marveling at how effectively, simply, but gorgeously she gets Katie’s feelings across. There are connections throughout the book and I can’t wait to go back, read it again, and pick up a little on what I missed, because I know it’s there. This is a YA novel, but is easily appreciated by adults, particularly because it is so full of substance.
This book truly gets Kephart’s talent across in its depiction of Katie’s grief. Grief is impossible to define and at times it certainly feels that everyone’s grief is different, every loss is different. Yet somehow in this little novel, Kephart has written the most realistic depiction of grief that I have ever read.
Everything looks like caution afterward, everything inside me feels old and used and cracked, and people say, “Oh, Katie, you’ve handled your mother’s passing so well,” and I think, Handled. Handled? I’m barely breathing, can’t you tell? And somewhere out there Jessie and Ellen are laughing, just the two of them, in the back of an old theater, and they think that I’ve forgotten them, maybe, but I haven’t. I never would – they just remind me of my mother, they just ask about my mother, and that’s not a question I want to hear, even if I knew how to answer.
– p. 132-3.
Caution is a theme that runs through the book, as if Katie needs to step carefully without her mother’s protection, as if she needs to warn off the world because she has been damaged and hasn’t healed enough yet. There are so many meanings within this book that I’m sure someone else will draw something completely new from it that I hadn’t even considered. It’s thoughtful, quiet, but huge in its impact.
The plot itself is intriguing and I didn’t see where the mystery was going. I loved the little touch of romance. I thought a careful, slow romance with a boy heading off to college soon, someone unconnected to her mother, was perfect for this stage in her life. I sat down and read this book in only a couple of hours, it was that addictive, and then I kept thinking about it when I’d finished. For me, this is a hallmark of a great book. So often I put them down and forget all about them, but this one, I’m remembering. I can’t wait to read more by Beth Kephart.
 Sixteen-year-old Lydia and her gorgeous mother Valentina have been living in Junchow, China, ever since they were exiled from Russia during the Bolshevik Revolution. All is not well for these two women; Valentina drinks too much and Lydia must steal just to pay the rent. Her thievery places her in danger with a terrifying underground gang, from which a young Chinese Communist, Chang An Lo, saves her. That doesn’t solve Lydia’s problems, however, and they only escalate as she realizes how deeply she feels for Chang An Lo and that her mother is falling into deeper and deeper disgrace.
There are a lot of things wrong with this novel. The story has a great premise in theory and one which should really appeal to me. I love the idea of a forbidden love. Here, though, it doesn’t work. For one thing, I didn’t believe in the connection between Lydia and Chang An Lo. I don’t know if I can isolate why. I just didn’t feel that they could have possibly known each other well enough to risk their lives in such a way. In fact, I felt a little bit like Lydia was a spoiled brat, despite the fact that she’s poor and knows it. She just must have her way all the time. As an example, she asks her mother’s lover for a rabbit, even though her mother despises it and they can’t afford to eat in the first place let alone buy greens for a rabbit. She insists on charging off into the dangerous section of town, only to get people killed and risk the life of a friend. She makes bad decisions and manipulates adults to get what she wants. She’s fiery, but fiery in a way that is not appealing. The one aspect of Lydia’s character I did like was the relationship with Alfred, which I thought grew in an organic and believable way.
This book also has far too many characters. It’s not just about Lydia and Chang An Lo. It’s about Lydia’s mother and her various paramours and her friend Polly and Polly’s parents and her teacher Theo and his Chinese lover and a variety of thugs and aristocrats and communists besides. It gets confusing and I wished it had been streamlined. The book just felt too long, like the story went on and on. And to top it all off, it’s open-ended, so the reader is forced to buy the sequel if she wants to continue the story. I feel like a warning should come with books like this.
I did like the setting; historical fiction in China is harder to come by than, say, historical fiction in England, and I appreciated that. There are little bits of history thrown in, like the origins of that rabbit’s name, Sun Yat-sen, and the history of the Communist movement in China. These, however, were not enough to rescue the plodding plot and unsympathetic characters.
Finally, a minor point, which someone who works in publishing could clarify for me. Since Lydia and her mother are Russian, sometimes they use Russian phrases in their speech. Unfortunately, these are spelled out somewhat phonetically, and almost always would probably give the reader the wrong pronunciation of the word. Is there a reason that she couldn’t have just used the cyrillic, aside from the fact that most people can’t understand it? If anything, it would look even more exotic. It also felt very tacked on to me, as in, they’d say “Thank you” and then the author would add spasibo and it just threw me out of the book. Though my Russian has greatly degraded, it was once fluent and sometimes it even took me a while to figure out what words she was trying to use. Since the overall writing isn’t that good to start with, mundane and choppy, this was not an incentive to keep going. I also hated how the book’s title didn’t match its content – there are no Russian concubines in this book.
Honestly, I don’t think I’d recommend The Russian Concubine. I wouldn’t have finished if I didn’t have to. You don’t need to start at all!
 One day in the year 1202, a British man breaks into the tent of a marquis, believing that he can both kill his enemy and be killed himself, achieving his ultimate goals in this life. Fortunately, the Briton is unwillingly rescued from suicide by a pious knight, Gregor of Mainz, something of a religious and martial icon at the start of the Fourth Crusade. Before they set sail, the Briton manages to rescue an Arab princess, who shares space on the journey with Gregor, his brother Otto, Otto’s concubine, and two dimwitted servants. Together, this peculiar crew embark on one of history’s most disastrous mistakes with thousands of other knights, clerics, and leaders.
It probably isn’t normal for most readers of this book to know all about the catastrophic Fourth Crusade. Catastrophic in hindsight, that is; this one was remarkably successful in terms of victories but horrid in terms of killing other Christians and not even coming close to achieving its goal of retaking Jerusalem. For the record, all the crusades were wrong and are actually appalling to think about, but this one is even so in medieval terms, which is quite impressive. So on approaching Crossed, I generally had down the politics, the outline of events, and the crazy people who were at the head of this insanity. If I hadn’t, I think the politics would have irritated me, but the history is great. No one can make this stuff up. It’s just too unreal for words, but it happened, and at a comfortable 800 year distance, we can even find it horrific in an amusing way.
Such is what Galland accomplishes with Crossed. She doesn’t really go for a medieval mindset with these characters. The closest is probably Gregor, who adheres to medieval standards very rigidly, but the rest of the characters are often used to play with the absurdities of medieval life rather than being approximations of the people who might have lived 800 years ago. I got used to this idea in Galland’s first book and it hasn’t really bothered me since now that I know what she’s doing. The Briton is mainly the character that she uses for this purpose, employing hindsight to fuel his clever retorts and lamentations on fate, such as in response to the glory of battle,
“Is Christ smiling down at you for this? Do you become more Christian if you smear yourself in Christian gore?” (302)
At all times, we’re fully aware that this crusade is horrible and what the knights are being told to do is completely wrong. It’s terrible, but it’s also showing us the absurdity of the entire idea by poking at its ridiculousness.
Not all of the book is great, though. Parts do drag. The history is fascinating, but the politics less so, and after a point the relationship between the Briton and Jamila has more or less been exhausted. The book is lengthy because it manages to cover almost the entire crusade, but it also covers a great deal more. I enjoyed it, but I’m not sure how much of that was remembering my favorite old history professor teaching in my head as opposed to how much I was genuinely enjoying the book. I think this is certainly worth a try for historical fiction readers and history buffs, taken with a grain of salt. It’s perhaps not Galland’s best book but I’ll still be eagerly awaiting her fourth novel.
IndieBound | Powell’s | Amazon
As a final note: has anyone read both this and The Fool’s Tale and think that the Briton is actually a certain character from that book, or am I crazy?
 From the back cover:
Mechanic Mercy Thompson can shift her shape – but not her loyalty. When her former boss and mentor is arrested for murder and left to rot behind bars by his own kind, it’s up to Mercy to clear his name, whether he wants her to or not.
Mercy’s loyalty is under pressure from other directions, too. Werewolves are not known for their patience, and if Mercy can’t decide between the two she cares for, Sam and Adam may make the choice for her …
With this book, this series became my favorite in urban fantasy. I really enjoyed the first two, but I loved this one. To some extent, I can pinpoint the difference, but largely, it’s because I have grown to love these characters. Over the past two books, they’ve begun to develop, but here things start moving in a solid direction between them. The strength of a series is in how the characters grow and change over the course of it, not necessarily how they stand up on their own (for me at least) and Patricia Briggs has done everything right.
As always, Mercy is a fantastic heroine and remains that way. She knows what’s right and what she has to do to save her friends. She takes unnecessary risks, but she calls for backup when she needs it. She is a strong woman and deals with some incredibly difficult stuff in this novel, which is handled extremely well and in what I thought a realistic way (having never experienced it myself, thankfully, I can’t say for certain). She chooses between Sam and Adam, finally, and her choice makes perfect sense in context of what is revealed in the book and how those characters begin to develop. Nor is the romance heavy-handed, but just perfect and organic.
The plot is an exciting one and, for me, completely unpredictable. I had no idea who the villain was until the reveal, even though it all made sense. Some new details about the world, especially with regard to the fae, are revealed which fit in nicely with what happened in the previous two books. Tensions between the human world and the supernatural world are increasingly clarified. Eerily, this is an echo of what happens in history; people band together in protest groups and seek to persecute the Other, regardless of how similar they are to that Other. This makes Mercy’s world feel even more real and fleshes out the dangers she and her friends encounter.
If you enjoy urban fantasy and aren’t reading this series, you should by all means start ASAP. As soon as I finished Iron Kissed, I bought the fourth one, Bone Crossed, and I’m going to recommend this series to all who are interested in speculative fiction.
 Elijah and Jemma, the duke and duchess of Beaumont, were married far too young. Jemma adored her new husband, but Elijah didn’t quite get it and kept his mistress on the side, for a variety of reasons. When Jemma surprised Elijah at work with a picnic, she was completely devastated to find him making love to his mistress on his desk, and fled the country, hoping he’d follow and make it up to her. Needless to say, he didn’t. Years later, Jemma is a hit in France and has had a few affairs of her own when Elijah passes out in Parliament. He realizes that his health is precarious and he needs an heir, so he asks Jemma to come back. Before they return to their marriage, however, both realize that they must come to terms with each other and understand what went wrong the first time in order to make their marriage work this time.
This is the fifth book in Eloisa James’s Desperate Duchesses series. At the beginning, I thought the series had too many characters, but by book four, which I loved, it became clear to me that Elijah, Jemma, and the duke of Villiers were the true stars, and as a result I’ve been very excited for the last two. It is a bad idea to start here; I had a look on Amazon and virtually everyone who rated this book negatively had not read the first four. If I hadn’t read the first ones, there is just no way I would have already had the attachment to these characters that makes this book work so well, so for anyone who is interested in This Duchess of Mine, keep that in mind.
That said, I loved this book. It starts off with a bang as Elijah saves Jemma, the background of which is fully detailed in When the Duke Returns, then slows down into a more sedate pace. I will admit that the first half of the book after this was a little too slow. Jemma attempts to set Elijah up with another woman so he has some fun and realizes that he only wants her, but it mostly backfires, as anyone who has been reading the series will know. When that ends, and Elijah and Jemma finally fall in love again, the book picks up in a big way and becomes beautiful and heartbreaking. Skip this next bit if you don’t want a spoiler:
Essentially, Elijah has a condition which could kill him at any time, and there is no known cure. Jemma’s realization that when finally all is right in the world, all is really wrong, is well done and touching. I knew that because it was a romance novel, there had to be a happy ending, but I still worried for him and felt for her as they searched for a cure.
As usual, the duke of Villiers plays a part in this novel, namely searching for his missing bastard children once he realizes how horrible their circumstances must be as he unknowingly put a dodgy solicitor in control of them. His book, the last, is next, and I am practically dancing in my seat with anticipation. His character development over the series has been just amazing and I can’t wait to see who gets him in the end.
This review has gone on and on, but I just want to end with a quick comment on Eloisa James’ writing. Her intelligence and education really shows with stunning prose that stands out in the genre. Her books are a cut above the rest and at this point, I know I’ll be out looking for more after this series is over.
 When Meggie is a young girl, her poor family receives the opportunity to go live near and work for her rich aunt in Australia. After eking out a difficult living in New Zealand, her parents seize the opportunity, taking Meggie and their many sons with them to become ranchers on the Australian outback. While living in Australia, Meggie meets the preacher, Ralph de Bricassart, when she is still a child. The ambitious priest and innocent little girl bond unexpectedly, particularly as Meggie grows into a woman with her own wants and desires. This relationship is at the heart of a generational saga about strong, independent men and women determined to make the best out of lives sometimes marred by scandal, heartbreak, and tragedy.
I’ve been looking forward to The Thorn Birds for what feels like a very long time. I read and enjoyed one of Colleen McCullough’s books about Rome, but I’m not so into Roman history and never really went back to the series. When I heard that she’d written this one about Australia and that it was widely recognized as a great read, but mostly from before I was old enough to know about it, I knew it was a must read for me. When Alyce (At Home with Books) mentioned it as one of her before-blogging favorites just before I went home, I decided to take it on the plane with me, and I read the entire thing over one flight.
I love deep, intricate plotlines that span generations of one family like this, and The Thorn Birds was far from an exception to that. Meggie’s mother’s actions clearly have an effect on her, which trickles down to Meggie’s children and their decisions. Meggie’s relationship with Ralph spans most of the book, growing and changing as the characters themselves age and mature. And beyond that, this book really has it all; romance, grief, tragedy, scandal, joy, the struggle of immigration and fitting in, the difficulty of remaining celibate while falling in love, parenthood, sibling rivalry, and so on.
Most of the book is set in Australia and the depiction of it in this novel was stunning. I’m so curious to know if a layer of dust really did collect on everything, if the heat is always that oppressive, and what it’s like to really be a sheep farmer. Obviously the book is set in the early 20th century so things won’t be the same now – I’m sure most Australian homes have air conditioning and women don’t have to wear dresses anymore – but I love stepping back in history and imagining what it might have been like. The Thorn Birds does that wonderfully. The characters also travel; they start out in New Zealand, and eventually go to London, Rome, and Greece, as well as different parts of Australia and different places I’ve probably forgotten. Overall, the descriptions are gorgeous here and it’s very easy to see through the characters’ eyes.
I probably don’t need to tell you after all this that I loved the book, but I will anyway. It was emotionally gripping and compelling and had me spellbound for a good 6 hours as I raced through it. I definitely recommend this to anyone who wants to get lost in these characters and in a huge, decades-long saga.
 I’m going to be a little different and review these together. They are different books, but they have essentially the same overall plot seen through two different characters. John experiences different things than Zoe does, but the main events are the same and I thought it would be easier on my blog schedule to just combine!
After spending eight years on Huckleberry, John Perry and his wife Jane, a former Special Forces soldier, are recruited to help start a new world on Roanoke. Their daughter, Zoe, doesn’t have as much choice in the matter, but is completely ready herself to move on, with her two Obin companions in tow as always, since she is revered as a near goddess by the Obin race. From the moment the family and their settlers first see Roanoke, they know that nothing is going to be quite what they expected and soon they find themselves embroiled in what may be an intergalactic war. John, Jane, and Zoe must each use their special advantages in order to keep the colony alive and save all of those they love.
First of all, I just loved the way these books worked together. I am actually quite a fan of the same story told from two different perspectives, although it was surprisingly difficult for me to yank myself out of John’s head and place myself into Zoe’s since I read the books in a row. John Scalzi’s brand of prose is very distinctive and while Zoe is certainly a teenage girl (and many props to him and his female test-readers for pulling that off) I have gotten used to the idea that his writing = a man. This is one of the instances in which having a very distinctive writing style worked against the book. I got over it eventually. I loved the way that certain holes left in The Last Colony were filled masterfully by Zoe’s Tale in particular. What’s amazing is that Scalzi didn’t even plan it that way, but rather came back and thought about how things came to be from Zoe’s perspective.
The story itself is, as always, a very interesting one. More and more problems occur from almost the first pages of the books onwards as the Roanoke colonists realize just how very much trouble they’re in. Both of these books are very quick reads; they’re on the short side and it’s difficult to put them down. By now I love all the characters and I have them firmly in my head, but they still develop here. This is especially so for Zoe, who is a teenager and changing faster than you can imagine with all the pressure placed on her. She learns so much about the world but I didn’t find any of it to be too much, if that makes sense. She develops but in a more realistic way given her extraordinary lifestyle.
I love these books. I’m a little sad that we’ve left these characters behind, probably for good. I adored the entire series and I highly recommend it, even if you don’t like science fiction. I know I didn’t. These are still fantastic books, with strong characters, an exciting plotline, and plenty of laughter and emotional intensity.
The Last Colony | Zoe’s Tale
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