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 After less than a year of marriage, Anna’s rigid clerical husband decides that she isn’t a suitable wife for him, and has her committed to a mental institution. She’s perfectly sane, but that doesn’t matter to anyone – not to the fake doctors whose signatures let him commit her to the hospital, not to the employees, not to the real doctors in the hospital, and certainly not to her husband. Anna is determined to escape, but she has no idea how, until she meets Lucas St. Clair. St. Clair is a young doctor who is attempting to use photography to discern the true nature of patients’ souls. Will his pictures show Anna as the innocent she is or the madwoman everyone believes?
I have to start off this review by saying I didn’t really manage to connect with this book. There were plenty of interesting elements, but they never combined for me into something that I genuinely liked much. It sounds like such an interesting premise; although we know that pictures aren’t really the key to the soul, when photography was a new art, people weren’t really sure what its purpose was. The idea that a doctor would try and use it to diagnose mental patients sounded very interesting to me. Moreover, the idea of an innocent woman condemned to one of these mental hospitals held a certain amount of appeal, even though I already knew that Anna’s life was going to be terrible once she was committed.
The main problem, unfortunately, was that I didn’t really connect with Anna at all. The reason that she’s deemed unsuitable by her husband is because she went to the seaside on her own to try and give aid to some shipwrecked sailors. To be perfectly honest, this does seem like a strange thing for a young woman in Victorian England to do without telling her husband. She even sells some of his things to get money for the sailors and proceeds to stay in an inn on her own without any supervision. Her behavior by no means justified the punishment, but she seemed foolish and naive, which made it hard for me to like her. I often say that I don’t really need to like a character to enjoy a book, but a lot of this story hinges on feeling sympathy for Anna, and it’s not really a complex character study that might justify her strange behavior. There is a reason for it, but not until the end of the book, and not quite earth-shattering even then.
While I didn’t fall in love with it overall, there were certain elements that I did like. One was the different ways that the women were constrained – maybe not appropriate to say I liked it, but it showed the limitations of a woman’s role once a man was in control at the time. The asylum is run by a man with a wife and teenage daughter, and both the wife and daughter are constrained because of what the men in their lives do. The other “patients” are obviously prisoners and generally with little wrong with them. Even the female employees in the institution have no control over their lives, and the one who does seize control comes to an unfortunate end. Anna’s own imprisonment is just one way that a Victorian woman could be trapped by the men around her.
With some interesting ideas, The Painted Bridge could have been an excellent book. For a different reader, it could be an exceptional read. Unfortunately, it wasn’t for this one.
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 The story of the Norlanders and the Shadari is that of conquest. Two decades ago, the Norlanders laid waste to the Shadari homelands, killing their strongest people and enslaving the rest. Nearby, the desert people, the Nomas, watched in silence, despite Shadari calls for aid. Now, Lord Eonar rules over the Norlanders still far from home, while his three grown children squabble amongst themselves for power. But the Shadari aren’t as subdued as they might seem, and it will soon be time for all three of Eonar’s children to grow up and face the people that they have lived with for their entire lives.
This book hit me at just the right time, when I was completely ready to read an immersive fantasy novel, and though I didn’t fall in love with it, I really liked it. All of the components fell together neatly and I really liked what the author did with the story.
The Norlanders, who reminded me of fantasy-Vikings with their often pale coloring and actual cold skin and blood, are very typical conquerers, reigning over a much larger popular of darker skinned “natives”, the Shadari, who have a king and culture of their own. The Shadari can hardly bear to touch Norlanders, and the language that Norlanders speak is actually impossible for Shadari to hear or understand, though the Norlanders can speak the Shadari language.
What I liked about this book, in part at least, is how well it demonstrated the way that conquerers can integrate into the societies completely by accident. Eonar’s children have grown up with the Shadari, in very close contact, and as a result see this supposedly conquered people as, well, people, rather than the “Other” their parents’ generation easily attacked. Many of the Norlanders who were later transplants don’t integrate quite the same way, and the learning process is still going on by the end of the book. There are examples of “good” and “bad” characters in both and the plot revolves around their machinations, rather than any external events.
With this in mind, I found myself caught up in the plot and wondering what was going to happen next. Manieri also includes a number of stronger female characters, though this is still largely a world where men dominate the highest leadership positions. There are a few worthy characters that had me rooting for them and I really liked where the author took the story. This is the first of a trilogy, I believe, but I thought the ending would have been quite satisfactory even if it wasn’t. Most things wrap up fairly well, with just enough still happening to keep readers ready for the next installment.
Blood’s Pride is a fantasy novel that I enjoyed greatly – and if you like character-driven fantasy, you might want to try it too.
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 Irene Blum’s world is falling apart. Certain that she’s going to be appointed curator of the museum where she works when her mentor retires, she’s devastated when the board appoints someone else instead of her. Though it’s 1925 and the position of women is uncertain, Irene thought that her hard work and determination over the course of her life would pay off. Then her mentor, Henry Simms, gives her a task; go to Cambodia and find ten copper scrolls that depict the history of the Khmer people. Irene has always loved Cambodia and learning that her parents were there before gives her a new incentive to go. Armed with knowledge and taking a few people with her along the way, Irene’s journey is about more than ten scrolls; it’s about finding a purpose in her life beyond a single museum.
I heard quite a bit about this book when it came out and I was really looking forward to reading it for its UK paperback release, which took place last week. I mean, it sounds fascinating and has some of my favorite elements; it’s historical fiction, centered around museums and exciting artifacts, and had the potential to delve into the history of the Khmer people. I’ve never been to Cambodia or to see Angkor Wat, the legendary temple complex that they built, but it’s on my wishlist of places I’d love to go, and so the setting was bound to captivate me. And while that happened, what was lacking for me was the characters.
The main character, Irene, does visibly grow and change over the course of the novel. Her life doesn’t go as she expected, and rather than break, she bends and grows stronger because of it. Her plan falls apart, so she puts together a new plan and forges forward. Despite this, though, I never felt that I liked her very much, nor did I really feel for any of the other characters. I got the feeling that certain revelations were meant to be deep and insightful, but I wasn’t there with the characters. I was never quite interested enough in the outcome of the story to actually pick the book up when I wasn’t already in a convenient position to do so. It was fine while I was reading it, but I wasn’t drawn in, and I didn’t feel that I was really experiencing an adventure story as I might have hoped.
All that said, there are certainly great points to this novel, and it’s been appreciated by plenty of other people. The writing is well done and I liked the atmosphere that it evoked, especially towards the end when Irene finally makes it to Cambodia. I think it’s more a book about one woman’s discovery, rather than quite what I’d expected. If you keep that in mind, I expect you’ll enjoy The Map of Lost Memories a great deal more than I did.
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 Just when Callie McFay thinks she’s returned her life to normal, having banished the incubus she very nearly loved from her home, she’s recruited to help save the world of Faerie. Convinced that the supernatural creatures which are entering the human realm are causing harm, a group of witches are about to close the last door to Faerie; as the doorkeeper, only Callie can stop them. Some of her nearest and dearest friends in her adopted town of Fairwick are fae and splitting the two realms will cause a disaster for many of them. But Callie can’t even work out her feelings for her banished incubus lover, her tutor in magic, or her new handyman, let alone save the connection to Faerie for all.
Somehow, when I requested this book from Netgalley, I completely missed that it was the second in a trilogy. I strangely assumed that it was the first in a new series, perhaps because I hadn’t heard of it before, but I kept wondering why so much had happened before the book started. Once I finished, I looked online, and I did realize that this is the middle book of a trilogy – so it’s worth keeping that in mind. I actually found that, while this meant that I had no real introduction to the world, the author did a fantastic job making sure I knew what happened in the previous book. While I as always would have preferred to start from the beginning, I didn’t feel I’d actually missed out too much.
Once I’d settled into the rhythm of the story and accepted that I wasn’t going to get a deep introduction to the world, I found myself quite enjoying the book and wondering if Callie was going to manage to actually save all the people she cared about. This was an extraordinarily fast read, and while I wouldn’t really say it was particularly deep, it was definitely fun. I also enjoyed the romantic side of the book, with Callie’s many love interests – although the three get narrowed down in different ways as the book rolls along. There were a few moments towards the end when I felt as though she was being blind and wanted to tell her what was going on, but since she’s traumatized from so much happening and figures it out, I couldn’t hold it against her too much.
The Water Witch would be a great read for someone who enjoys both fantasy and romance, although I’d probably recommend starting from the beginning. I intend to.
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 Emma of Normandy never suspects that she’ll be married before her sister – or that she’ll be sent north to England to wed King Ethelred, an aging monarch who disdains her immediately on her arrival. Emma’s life on arrival in England is far from what she thinks a marriage should be like. Her husband doesn’t respect her and she misses her family and all that is familiar from home. Worse, her husband’s seven children stand between her offspring and the throne of England. But Emma soon realizes that the only power she or her children will ever have is that she can seize herself, and the sooner the better.
Queen Emma is a fascinating historical figure. I’ve spent a small amount of time studying her life, though not in any great detail, enough to know what generally happened to her. It wasn’t long before I realized that Shadow on the Crown was covering only a tiny fraction of her life, because it went into much greater detail and imagined things I’d never considered before about the start of her life. While this part is often skimmed over in favor of her later life, I was riveted by Bracewell’s narrative and re-imagining of Emma’s young married life. I want to emphasize that a lot of this is imagining, and Bracewell includes the very useful author’s note so we can see where she’s changed history to better suit her narrative.
As I would have imagined, really, life in a foreign land as depicted here isn’t easy, especially when Emma is descended from England’s enemies, the Vikings. The Vikings were a scourge on England’s coast throughout Ethelred’s reign, so it’s no surprise that her relations to them cause distrust and unhappiness – even more so when a young, foreign queen marries an older king and ruins the chances for English women. Not only that, but while she doesn’t expect her husband to like her, he doesn’t even respect her, and he mistreats her frequently. It was easy to get attached to and feel for Emma, and I liked how the author put little hints in regarding where the story was going to go in the future.
I also felt that the author gave readers a great sense of what life might be like under a Viking siege. At one point, the characters’ lives are at risk, with events taking a terrifying turn. It was easy to understand how terrified they were and why some of them took the actions they did. Bracewell doesn’t use this event just for the sake of gratuitous violence, but actually uses the events of the raid to further the plot along. Several characters experience key events that help us understand their characters better and which will make a lot of sense going down the line.
Though by no means an entirely positive tale of a young queen, Bracewell’s ideas shed a lot of light on how Emma became the women she was later on, and I’m greatly looking forward to finding out how she fleshes out Emma’s story and reveals the multiple facets of her life as we go along. Recommended!
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review.
 Cherry continues her difficult balancing act between the aristocracy and the lower levels of society in this second installment of the St. Croix Chronicles. After the traumatic events of the last book, she’s determined to find out more about her family and where she actually comes from. At the same time, she is becoming aware how precarious her life is, and worse, how unsteady her behavior makes the lives of those around her. Soon Cherry is forced to make a choice, between keeping the life she’s used to and keeping those she loves safe, if that’s even a possibility …
I liked the first book in this series, Tarnished, but Gilded was magnitudes more involving. As happens quite often in a series like this, the part of the first book that’s devoted to setup can be devoted to plot in the second, and Cooper delivers on the promise of the first one in spades. I actually read them very close together, despite the fact that my reviews are scattered so far apart, and I was really rewarded by doing that. Unfortunately the result means I can’t separate them in my mind as much as I should be able to, except for the end.
This is in part because this book directly follows on from the last one. It has a little bit of a plot arc of its own, centered around a riddle that is posed to Cherry and which she can’t help but try and solve, but not as much as I was expecting. Since this plot arc follows on so well, though, I absolutely didn’t mind; I was quite happy to continue the story where it left off, because it left off in quite an uncertain place, with plenty of plot threads dangling.
As with the last book, what I really like about this world is the difference between literally the upper class in the upper part of London and the lower class down below. It’s impossible to walk from one to the other, you need transportation; it’s an actual separation between the classes. Cherry is dauntingly flitting between these two worlds, which effectively demonstrates to us that (of course) people are people and there are wonderful and terrible ones in both places, but breaking the barrier is the real challenge.
The love stories also progress, and I found my jaw on the floor at the ending – it was the kind of ending I’d expect to find later in a series, not in the second book. I immediately wanted to find out what happens next, and now I’m only sorry that there isn’t a publication date yet for it.
If you like the sound of a steampunk, alternate London urban fantasy, these two books are definitely worth picking up. Highly recommended.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review.
 Lady Philippa Marbury has always felt out of place in society; with her keen and intelligent mind, she’s far from the ideal debutante. Regardless, she’s managed to snag a fiance, Lord Castleton and she can’t help but be curious about the marriage bed, since no one has ever really told her what might happen. In search of a man with experience who won’t make her feel uncomfortable, she propositions Cross, part owner of the gambling den with her brother-in-law. She doesn’t want to do anything in particular, she just wants to learn what might happen, so that she’s prepared for her wedding night. Cross is immediately attracted to Pippa, but of course refuses; he can’t tell her what she really wants to know, it would be completely wrong, and besides that, his tortured past means he hesitates to let her in at all.
Sarah MacLean is one of the romance authors that I always give to newbies of the genre. Her books are accessible and brilliant at pulling in those who aren’t quite familiar with the tropes as the rest of us are. She’s a fantastic writer, and she has the ability to really make you feel for her characters and hope for the outcome that, despite knowing it’s assured, seems impossible in the meantime. This book is really no different, with a great, smart heroine and a tortured hero. Like many readers will, I desperately wanted Cross and Pippa to get together. I loved that Cross adored Pippa because she was a little bit strange, because she is intense and smart and doesn’t just flirt and tease as normal society girls do.
One aspect of this book that I particularly liked was the simple fact that Pippa’s fiance is not a terrible person. In fact, they might have even gotten on together well, it’s simply that there is no real spark of passion in their relationship. Comparing Castleton to Cross is difficult because that spark is there with him, but I liked that he was a kind, logical man and, more importantly, that there were no stupid excuses required for Pippa to get her own happy ending. He’s certainly not Cross, who for me was the star character of the book, but he’s a perfectly acceptable man.
I suppose I’d say the only thing I didn’t like, really, was the fact that for a woman who often comes across as very intelligent, Pippa also comes across as very stupid. Propositioning the owner of a gambling den, even though he knows her brother-in-law, is an extraordinarily stupid move no matter how understandable the motive, and some of the actions that Pippa takes indicate that she’s so comfortable in her own little world that she’s lost sight of how dangerous the real world can be. It’s a very classic case of intelligence versus common sense, and Pippa seems to have very, very little common sense at times. It’s not that she’s unrealistic, as I think we’ve all met people who are very clever and very dim at the same time, it’s more that in these circumstances I wanted her to act with some sense and caution.
Saying all that, One Good Earl Deserves a Lover is a book that I thoroughly enjoyed reading, and I fully intend to keep up with Sarah MacLean’s future releases in this series. Highly recommended for other romance readers.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review.
 Isabella of Castile is not expected to rise to greatness. Not only does she have an older half-brother, but she also has a younger full brother, and both are ahead of her in the line to the throne. But when crisis strikes her family and plunges Castile into civil war, Isabella finds herself fighting to claim the throne for herself and her own descendants. Alongside her is Fernando, heir to Aragon, and her chosen husband, even when her family wishes for her to marry someone else. Throughout Isabella’s struggles, one thing is always for certain, and that is her goal to do her best for her people.
Isabella of Castile and Ferdinand of Aragon are historical figures that are familiar to most American children (and likely plenty of others as well); they financed Columbus’s journey to “the New World” and, as much as I dislike what ensued from that journey, it’s taught to us from a very young age. As I grew older, I learned more about them. They unified a Christian Spain on something of a crusade and set off the Inquisition, an infamous institution throughout the early modern era. They’re fascinating figures, and Isabella herself is a perfect candidate for a historical fiction novel.
Fortunately, C.W. Gortner sticks to his excellent record and does Isabella justice. Gortner is one of those authors who can always remind me why I’ve spent so much of my life so far reading historical fiction. He really brings Isabella and her world to life, fully fleshing out her character and spending just the right amount of time on descriptions of the world around her and the events that shape her personality. Starting from a young age and going right up until she is the mother of several children, Gortner captures a huge chunk of Isabella’s life and explores how she might have felt over a number of both traumatic and inspiring events.
Before going into this particular book, I really wondered how Gortner was going to handle Isabella’s strict Catholicism. It’s very widely recognized that the Inquisition, and religious persecution in general, is an atrocity that practically everyone reading this review will wish was consigned to the distant past. He handles this with a delicate touch; Isabella regrets what she is doing and is forced into it by essentially riots. In order to satisfy the majority, she has to persecute the minority. I’m not sure how accurate this is in terms of real life, but it is a way of getting around this issue.
Another delicately handled situation is Fernando’s infidelity. Powerful men have received a pass on cheating for most of history, and Isabella’s husband isn’t an exception to this rule. How she deals with it is I feel surprisingly realistic, and I liked that Gortner didn’t invent fidelity when it was incredibly unlikely.
All things considered, The Queen’s Vow is a fantastic portrayal of Isabella of Castile, the story of a girl who grows into medieval Spain’s greatest queen, and an excellent book besides. Very highly recommended to those who enjoy historical fiction.
I received this book for free for review. All external book links are affiliate links.
 Anne Morrow is a shy college student when her father, the US Ambassador to Mexico, invites Charles Lindbergh, the world-famous aviator who has just completed the first solo flight from New York to Paris, to his family’s Christmas. Anne hardly knows what to say to Charles, and imagines that he’s fallen for her beautiful sister Elisabeth; but Charles surprises her, inviting her for a secret flight and eventually proposing marriage to her. Covering the whole of the Lindberghs’ marriage, The Aviator’s Wife is a striking portrayal of how Anne’s thinking developed, how she went from biddable, awe-struck wife to become her own person and chart her own course in life.
Having previously read and enjoyed one of Benjamin’s previous books, The Autobiography of Mrs Tom Thumb, I’ve been looking forward to reading The Aviator’s Wife. I don’t know much about the Lindberghs, but I had heard of Charles and his flight over the Atlantic in The Spirit of St. Louis, and so I was curious to read about his wife’s point of view. This is especially true once I’d learned that she was a pioneer in her own right, going alongside her husband to make records that no other woman had ever done. I’m all about historical women getting the recognition that they rightly deserve, and just because she was married to a more famous man doesn’t mean she should spend all of history in the shadows.
This was an insightful and thoughtful book; Benjamin has a way with words that makes you feel as though you’re inside her characters’ minds and living their experiences for yourself. I loved her depictions of Anne’s life particularly in the early years of her marriage to Charles, when she felt like everything and anything was possible, and I found her ways of describing how Anne behaved even when she disagreed with Charles to be realistic. Her research seemed thorough; as with all excellent historical fiction authors, she covers in the footnotes what was and wasn’t true, but throughout the whole book I did feel as though there was a ring of authenticity.
In particular, Anne struggles to find herself, especially after she’s had children and lived in the shadow of her husband for years. She isn’t sure what her own purpose is, and I think this will still ring true for many women who define themselves by the people around them rather than as themselves. It really brought her out as a realistic character for me, and the combination of historical fiction and women’s issues worked exceptionally well. Since I knew virtually nothing about these people’s lives, each detail was new to me, even the kidnapping, and so I was as desperate as the characters to find out what happened next and how their stories would progress.
I’d certainly recommend this book to others who enjoy historical or women’s fiction; I was captivated by it, and Anne’s story certainly deserves a second look. I’m now inspired to not only keep on reading Melanie Benjamin’s books, but to seek out a few of the many books that have been written by and about the Lindberghs to add some non-fiction to my newly acquired interest in them.
All external book links are affiliate links. I received this book for free for review.
 Blonde little Elsa Emerson loves the stage. Born in 1920, she’s just in time for the delight of the silver screen and the glamour of acting. She grows up around and on her father’s stage, playing small roles, and loving and being loved by her two sisters, especially beautiful Hildy. When tragedy strikes her family, Elsa decides that she should live her life on a bigger stage, and when Gordon-from-Florida Pitts comes to her small town in Michigan, Elsa heads straight for Hollywood. There, she’s christened Laura Lamont by the most famous producer in town, transforming from blonde and wholesome country girl to glamorous screen star.
The early days of Hollywood have always held a strange fascination for me. Modern celebrities don’t interest me at all, but the first years of films have passed into the realm of history, and the fact that we can still see all of these people on screen today makes their lives all the more interesting. Laura Lamont is, of course, fictional, but she’s been written in such a way that she could have been many famous actresses from our time. Her transformation from “ordinary” girl to superstar is actually quite remarkable; with the change of name, hairstyle, and diet, Elsa becomes Laura in a way that she hadn’t precisely anticipated, and the consequences of that are profound.
What I most liked about this, I think, was the way that Laura’s life was so far from perfect. The contrast between her public and her private lives was absolutely immense. Even when she grows older, the reaction that she gets from people who loved her old films is notable compared to her actual life outside them; it shows how little we really know about celebrities when they keep their personal lives quiet, and how eternal they seem to us when, in reality, they are flawed and age just as the rest of us do. We don’t really spend all that much time experiencing a “glamorous” lifestyle through Laura’s eyes; the book really focuses on her actual life behind the screen and her family, both at home in Michigan and in Hollywood.
Straub is naturally influenced by what happened in real-life Hollywood; I’ve even seen various guesses of who Laura herself is inspired by. Some of her silver screen friends are somewhat obvious, but I didn’t spend much time trying to pin who was inspired by who. For those who know more about Hollywood history than I do, there is undoubtedly quite a bit to spot here in terms of influences, but it’s not critical to liking the book, at least it wasn’t for me.
A thoroughly enjoyable read, although sometimes unsettling thanks to the ups and downs of Elsa / Laura’s life, Laura Lamont’s Life in Pictures is a good choice for anyone who enjoys thinking about the early days of Hollywood or is at all interested in the lives of celebrities behind the scenes.
I received this book for free for review.
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