Content Call: I Need Books To Review!

Let's get straight to the point here, friends - I'm back, and I'm in business.

That's right - the big project for this year is going to be the beginning of book reviews. Brilliant, right? I finally get around to doing that thing that I used to do but do no longer but have been planning to do properly for the better part of three years.

All sarcasm aside - I'm super excited to get started on this, and even more excited because it means you guys get to join in. You see, for something like this, for once my own self is not sufficient (if ever it had pretentions to being such a thing).

For book reviews, I am going to need something from you. Your souls.

. . . And by that I mean your favourite books, of course. Same thing, after all.

My little list here will likely keep me sated for a few weeks, maybe longer if my work pile mounts up, but nobody wants to watch a video about a book they don't have a lot of interest in. Or a video blogger who isn't interested in taking recommendations.

So, my dear readers, you silent army lurking somewhere behind my view count but never quite making it to the comment boxes, time to screw your courage to the sticky place and offer up your darlings on the altar of my page-lighting, spine-bending, tale-devouring ambition.

Come now, don't be shy. I don't bite. Often . . .

~ Charley R

P.S. Fear not, there are plenty of new projects in the pipeline for this blog, too. But you'll hear about those in their own time. Watch this space.

Top Three Retold Myths For Adults

There's been something of a trend in the reworking and revamping of classic myths and figures in books of late, most obviously in the Young Adult spectrum. Percy Jackson pushed the boat out, and it's a party every night on the S.S. Mythic since. Let's just hope no one goes whistling up any krakens any time soon.

But today I'm going to do something a little different, and do some little mini-reviews come plugs for some of my favourite books inspired by or reworking of myths on the more adult-oriented end of the spectrum. Not that YA readers couldn't enjoy these too, but some of the themes and styles on hand demand classification as adult. Just in case some poor twelve year old reads the wrong book and is forever scarred / traumatised / converted to non-standard ways of thinking, amirite?

"Grendel" - John Gardner

A story about a man-eating monster reworked as a philosophical think-piece about the role and importance of fate and purpose? Are you gnawing on my elbow joint?

Being the massive Beowulf fangirl that I am, I was all over this thing. It's by no means the easiest read, and it took me a while to get into it, but even if you don't entirely follow the vein of thought expressed, the absolutely stunning prose absolutely makes up for it. 

Grendel's first person perspective reminds me rather of the monster from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein - horrifying and sympathetic all at once.  The philosophy itself, and its relationship to the timeless issues of perceived monstrosity, and the effects of internalised self-hate on one's treatment by and of the world around us, is beautifully handled as well. 

A hard read, but well worth it.

"The Penelopiad" - Margaret Atwood

Do you like The Odyssey? Do you like female protagonists? Do you like getting your heart pulled out
of your chest and played like a harp from start to finish?

Then you're going to love this.

The Penelopiad does exactly what it says on the tin, and then some. Both prequel, companion piece, and what-happened-next to Homer's original text, Atwood's feminist retelling takes the perspective of Odysseus' overlooked wife Penelope, giving voice to her experiences before, during and after Odysseus' ill-fated trip to Troy.

The best thing about The Penelopiad, for me, was the reality of it. Penelope is a woman both out of and deeply immersed in her time, critically examining the structures that govern her actions moreso than she herself does, even as she expresses her exasperated but nonetheless abiding love for her husband and family.

No pulled punches, no holds barred - a beautiful, powerful piece of womens' writing.

"The Song Of Achilles" - Madeline Miller

Small confession: I haven't finished this book yet. I know. Stone me for a fool and a traitor. And for that one overdue library book.

One thing that has consistently irritated me throughout my experience with re-tellings of myths is their tendency to be rather homogenised in terms of their romance. Very safe, very standard - one man, one woman, a few kisses, maybe a scandalous sex scene if you really want to be rebellious (but not too much).

Finally, then, we get a book that smacks that over the head with a shield and spray paints some colour over the bland suburban magnolia. Not only are Achilles and Patroclus rightly re-instated to their proper, passionate romantic relationship (oddly removed from most retellings, surprise surprise), but the emotional punches and pulls of their relationship, and the story around them, are brought to life in a method at once so compelling and timeless that Homer himself would probably be proud.

Gaudy, gory, and glorious.

~*~

Anybody else read any of these beauties? Or would you like to recommend some more for me? Leave a comment, and let me know!

~ Charley R

Ineffable Brilliance - Charley R Reviews "Good Omens" by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

According to the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter - the world's only totally reliable guide to the future - the world will end on a Saturday. Next Saturday, in fact. Just after tea...

* *  *

Featuring a book-hoarding angel, a Bentley-driving demon, a cantankerous old witch-hunter, two dukes of hell, and the eight-year-old Antichrist (as well as assorted Tibetans, Americans, and ducks whose routine feed comes from the hands of the world’s most powerful politicians) the premise of Good Omens holds so much potential for chaos it’s practically flammable. 

And that potential is executed superbly; the combined skills of the two authors make for a marvelous tale of giddy mayhem with moments of touching humanity, executed with such flair and style that I could not help tumbling head over heels into the narrative, pausing only now and again to loose uncontrollable hoots of mirth. Which, considering I read this over the two days I was in Oxford for my application interview, could be considered either a good or bad thing depending on your perspective.

The novel’s storyline is multi-stranded, following the courses of multiple narrators through a story that begins in the early days of Eden and ends on “the first day of the rest of our lives”. That said, it's not a hugely long book; I was through it in about four hours, in about half as many sittings. The pace is excellent, and the brilliantly humorous prose (Sir Pratchett, teach me your ways!) keeps you absolutely glued to the page, even during the slower chapters. There's a little bit of complex language that creeps in every now and again, but it's nothing a little context, and maybe a quick glance at a dictionary, won't solve.

Another massive bonus is that, despite the contentious content, the actual religious aspects of the text are kept to a minimum and handled tastefully, with no judgemental statements, and no specific religion coming into mention at any stage - it's a book of practical ethics rather than theological perspectives, you might say. Meanwhile the wonderfully original takes on characters such as the Four Riders of the Apocalypse add a new freshness and vitality to the long-suffering apocalypse genre.

The whole book is a combination of engaging realism and clever parody, with plenty of hidden nuances and jokes for the sharp-eyed reader to spot. Furthermore, although it's a stunning example of quality comedy, the story’s achingly simple moments of humanity are the sort that'll stick with you. Especially due to their use of dolphins. 

The final major highlight is, of course, the characters - what else would we expect from Gaiman and Pratchett? The cast of the novel is a big one, but even the characters who we meet fairly late in the narrative are individual, exciting, and wonderfully crafted as both caricatures of archetypes and flawed human beings (figuratively speaking) as well. We get to know them all personally, and even their moments of introspection are handled so well that you hardly notice what might otherwise be a horrific infodumping eyesore. A word of warning: Crowley the demon's strategy for dealing with his houseplants is probably not one best copied by those of us who can't smite things on command. 

All in all, a fantastic, hilarious, and thoroughly enjoyable read, especially for those with burning questions regarding the intrinsic evil of the M25 and the seeming omnipresence of Queen CDs.

An ineffable five stars from me!

~ Charley R

Castles! Cackling! Flying Helmets! - Charley R Reviews "The Castle of Otranto" by Horace Walpole

"The Castle of Otranto", first published in 1764, is often credited with being the first Gothic novel, a literary genre that would become extremely popular in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. 

Purporting to be based on a (fictitious) sixteenth-century manuscript containing a mediaeval story about spooky goings - on in an Italian castle, it opens with the death of the heir of the castle of Otrantro, on both his wedding-day and his birthday, crushed by an immense helmet. It is a sensational and suspenseful story (of the type parodied by Jane Austen in Northanger Abbey) complete with sorcery, an underground passage, a ghost, an enormous sword, a cave in a forest, a masked knight, a storm, unearthly groaning, a statue dripping blood and a spectral skeleton.





Just because a book has "classic" next to it doesn't mean it's automatically a masterpiece.

This is by far one of the most terrible books I have ever read.

The book opens, as the blurb says, with the heir to a fictional castle being crushed to death on the eve of his wedding to the beautiful maiden Isabella by nothing less than a giant flying helmet. While his saintly mother and sister cower in the corner, and the servants scrape the splattered remains of poor birthday-boy Conrad off the floor, the novel's villain, his father Manfred, veers between reasonable head of the household and crazed, cackling, cape-swishing nutcase in the space of seconds.

And that's all within the first thirty pages.

And that's before we get to the giant armoured legs in the attic, scary bangs in the night, and the secret trapdoor that nobody knows about (except the girl who's lived there for two days and the boy who's never been there in his life).

One-dimensional stock characters are given equally one-dimensional backstories in the space of a second, and a prophecy straight out of the attempted high fantasy of a twelve year old - complete with usurpring minister, degraded prince and wrathful outcome - is shoved haphazardly over the myriad plot hole halfway through the book. Furthermore, anything that might be considered a plot twist, or some twisted cousin of character development is so contrived it's almost hilarious.

The plot itself is solid, but poorly executed - the language veers between omniscient and limited narration, and the prose is so presumptuous it's as if it thinks we're idiots. Listen, we know there's only one other recognisable male in the castle besides crazy ranting Manfred . . . you can drop the "mysterious stranger" pseudonym now. Please.

That said, though, the book is an absolute must-read if you want a high-speed journey through every Gothic feature in existence - terrified maidens, scary castles, crashing thunderstorms every other day, prophecies, dungeons, curses . . . there's even a couple of scuttling minions for the bad guy. Because of this overdose of hyperbole, though, even the blood-oozing statue seems more Scooby Doo than Paranormal Activity.

In short, The Castle of Otranto is a horrendously bad book. Read it for the historic value and the introduction to the Gothic, perhaps, but call it a "classic"?

Helmets really will fly before there's a chance of that.

~ Charley R

"The Castle of Otranto" is available in ebook and paper format from Amazon, as well as multiple high street retailers.

Rich and Strange ~ Charley R Reviews "Daughter of Smoke and Bone", by Laini Taylor

Around the world, black handprints are appearing on doorways, scorched there by winged strangers who have crept through a slit in the sky.

In a dark and dusty shop, a devil's supply of teeth grows dangerously low.

And in the tangled lanes of Prague, a young art student is about to be caught up in a brutal, otherworldly war.

***

Meet Karou. She fills her sketchbooks with monsters that may or may not be real; she speaks many languages - not all of them human; and her bright blue hair actually grows out of her head that colour. Who is she? That is the question that haunts her, and she's about to find out.

Fact: this is one of the best Young Adult books I've read all year.

Right from the first page, Karou's story pulls you straight into her world. No long explanatory digressions, minimal scene-setting; just Karou's voice introducing us to her and her world. Although the novel is third person, the writing is engaging and personal. Karou herself is eloquent, interesting, and more than slightly quirky. I liked her almost instantaneously . . . oh, come on, how on earth could a girl who entertains ideas about dyeing her hair ridiculous colours resist the pull of a blue-haired protagonist? 

Furthermore, although the book deals with supernatural elements - including the devil mentioned above, as well as many other things weird and wonderful - nothing is presented to either extreme of underappreciation for their strangeness, or over-described so that it loses its imaginative draw. Although the setting is described sparingly, there is enough of it involved to create atmosphere, without being too underpowering. Sometimes we may be  confused as to exactly what is where, but as the setting has relatively little influence on the tale itself, it's a fairly negligible point.

Likewise, the story's plot is pacy and quick off the mark. Things are revealed gradually to the reader without too much intrusion into the narrative and, after a slightly jerky introduction to our second narrator, the book settles into an easy-to-follow rhythm. It's not without its complexities, too - there's more than one sting hidden in this tale - and the sub-plot that later merges with the main part of the story is handled spectacularly, but, mostly, it settles for a quiet cleverness over anything more complicated.

What really won me over, though, was the prose. It is lyrical, taut, and deployed with excellent skill. Some of the metaphors were so lovely they could have melted on my mouth. The author is clearly in love with her craft, and it shows. The imagery occasionaly reaches for something abstract, but never pushes itself too far in its quest for poetic evocation.

The prose really comes into its own in the latter stages of the book, when we come across a flashback narrative. The otherworldly elements of the story are handled deftly and with confidence, and as there are relatively few complex revelations, everything is fairly easy to keep track of until it is all pulled together in the closing stages. 

The magical element of the story is original and fascinating, though it can be more than a little disturbing if you think about it too hard. Secondary characters, meanwhile,  maintain a bubbling vivacity of their own without impinging too much on the narrators. Lines between the good and the bad are kept suitably blurred to remind the reader that this is not a war of "good vs bad", as its premise might suggest. We see the good and bad aspects of characters from both sides of the war, and, although we can sometimes lose track of the bigger picture through Karou's personal standpoint, we are left mostly to make our own judgements on who's got their foot in their mouth.

Admittedly, the book does stumble over a trait rather typical to Young Adult novels - everyone is so pretty. There are very few characters described as being ugly, and most of our central cast - even the antagonists - are physically stunning. Even some of the more outlandish demons made me look in the mirror with disgust. I'm not usually one to gripe over shallow things like this, but I did get a little tired of everyone being so damned attractive all the time.

On the whole, though, the book is a refreshing take on the supernatural theme; it's original, it's exciting, it's emotionally involving, the prose is gorgeous, and I half wish I'd been the one who wrote it. The romance element may be somewhat discouraging to some, but it's not as intrusive as it might be, and merges with the story, rather than invading and squashing all else out of it.

Couple this with an ending with enough momentum to launch the Voyager spacecraft, and I can assure you that I will be getting my paws on the sequel, come hell or high water.

"Daughter of Smoke and Bone" is available in hardback and paperback from all major online retailers. I am unsure on its ebook status, however. Its sequel, "Days of Blood and Starlight", is due for release next month.

~ Charley R

Human Storms - Charley R Reviews "Pure", by Andrew Miller

Deep in the heart of Paris, its oldest cemetery is, by 1785, overflowing, tainting the very breath of those who live nearby. Into their midst comes Jean-Baptiste, a young provincial engineer charged by the king withe demolishing it.

At first Baratte sees this as a chance to clear the burden of history, a fitting task for a modern man of reason. But before long, he begins to suspect that the destruction of the cemetery might be a prelude to his own.

Normally, whenever I see awards on the front of books, I’m the first one to sniff and decide to judge the choice of the critics myself. Sometimes I walk away wondering if someone’s swapped the prize winner’s cover with the interior of some indiscernible mass of overcomplicated prose and anaemic grammar. Other times, I nod and think “good choice”.

Pure resulted in an eyebrow-raising combination of both.

It’s beautiful.

Present tense and third person narration have never looked so gorgeous on a page together. The sentences sound as if they’re tumbling straight out of someone’s head; raw, unpolished, and with that strange abstract nature that could only originate in the weirdness of the human brain. It’s a book of paradoxes – we’re so close inside our narrator’s head that sometimes I found my own thoughts getting tangled up with his, and I forgot which belonged to who. We see people so clearly through his eyes that we hardly notice his personal biases because we’re thinking like he does, learning like he does, feeling like he does. And we’re not even told his name until the second chapter.

Yet, at the same time, it feels like we’re watching the world through some sort of celestial mirror. While we are living pretty much inside Jean-Baptiste’s head (yes, that’s his name, though most of the time it’s never used and we simply know him by his gender-specific pronoun) but perhaps it is this closeness to his raw thoughts and feelings that distances him from us. His actions are described briefly and sharply on the page, with no embellishment, and hardly an adverb in sight.

There’s also an odd feeling of readerly intrusion in the writing. We feel, like our narrator, out of place, unable to grasp why things happen quite as they do. Even with the most engaging and friendly of the large cast of characters – gentle, elfish Jeanne; charming rogue Armand; sensible, robust Lisa – one feels detached. For all I was fascinated by them, I could never tell you that I liked or disliked a character, because it is so impossible to empathise with them. And I never knew how it felt to be honestly afraid to trust a narrator before I read this book. Because, as far as I can tell, Jean-Baptiste is the least trustworthy of them all. The inner workings of that man’s mind are a dangerously unbalanced place, even at the best of times.

However, as is often the trend with books like Pure, the actual storyline is marginal. It’s not dull in the slightest; there’s lust and anguish and self-discovery and pure mad humanity aplenty – as well as a particularly interesting attempted murder with a brass ruler – to keep you turning pages. Nonetheless, it’s not the events themselves, but their causes, outcomes and messages, which are important. Subsequently, there is a general lack of climax and closure that could be a cause of bother to some readers; the end of the book, in particular, I found rather lacking. Plenty of important events were skimmed over, or not explained fully, and the final chapter doesn’t seem like it ought to be final at all. Perhaps that was the point but, a mon humble avis, it wasn’t as good as it could have been.

Thus, altogether, I’d give this book a thousand awards for its gorgeous prosal style and sheer gripping humanity, while at the same time for making our fellow human beings seem like complete strangers. We see, hear, smell and feel everything as they do, and yet at the same time we do none of these things. By the end of it I’d say one either wants to throw the book across the room in frustration, or fights to stop oneself narrating your thoughts in the style of the book (as I had to do, for about three hours).

A plot-driven page-turner it may not be, but you can’t deny there’s a certain macabre fascination in watching the slow destruction of a person’s mind and soul, and then see them rise, a changed stranger, from the heart of the storm.

"Pure" is available in paperback from all major booksellers, as well as in ebook format.

~ Charley R

Thieves, Princes and Worse - Charley R Reviews "Among Thieves", by Douglas Hulick

Drothe is a Nose, an informant who finds and takes care of trouble inside the criminal organization he’s a part of. He also smuggles imperial relics on the side. 

When his boss sends him to Ten Ways to track down who’s been leaning on his organization’s people, Drothe discovers hints of a much bigger mystery. Someone is trying to stir up trouble between lower-level criminal organizations, including the one Drothe belongs to. And there’s a book rumored to contain imperial glimmer (or magic) that a lot of very dangerous people seem to be looking for - including two crime bosses known as the Gray Princes. 
When Drothe discovers the book, he finds himself holding a bit of swag that can bring down emperors, shatter the criminal underworld, and unlock forbidden magic…that's if he can survive long enough to use it. 



Thieves? Intrigue? Inconvenient books? What more could a girl who’s had to spend half a year reading Ian McEwan want?

I pretty much buried myself in this book from the minute I plonked myself into my beanbag. There’s no bother with an introduction or prologue of any sort – the reader is dropped head-over-tail into the stinky, sneaky city of Ildrecca, and the chaotic life of our first-person narrator, Drothe (whom I decided I wanted to befriend within about five pages, despite still being mystified about how on earth you pronounce his name).

The view through Drothe’s eyes is fascinating. Ildreccan phraseology and slang add a sense of gritty authenticity to a world that is, otherwise, pretty sparingly described. Though it takes a little time to get your head around all the terms for different types of criminal, there’s a sort of conspiratorial wryness in the writing that smooths it over. However, some may feel cheated of not hearing more of Ildrecca’s history, mythology and culture as, being a local, Drothe has no reason to describe much of it beyond the things he trips over. Drothe’s own history is never fully explained either, including tantalising crumbs regarding his uber-cool night vision, and a dark past involving drug use. Furthermore, what we do get is pieced together in a rather haphazard fashion, which doesn’t entirely make sense unless you are paying quite close attention to the momentary relapses or explanatory passages.

But I didn’t really give a fig about all of that. I was too busy enjoying myself.

If you thought Among Thieves opened in the middle of a mess, then what happens next will be nothing short of a pyrotechnic display. Although not riddled with overly complex twists and turns, the storyline is certainly nimble enough to run you in a few circles as the multiple dangers, discoveries and deaths link together. The pace is fairly swift, but one doesn’t need to note down every excruciating detail in order to keep up with the mystery. The clichéd use of a book as the central MacGuffin is something of a damper, but thankfully the book itself isn’t harked on about all that much – a great mercy for anyone who’s survived the tales where we’re bashed over the head with the importance of the sought-after item every other sentence.

No, the important thing in this story is the glorious mayhem that the book causes. Despite wielding knives, rapiers, and a best friend who could send armies running for mummy, Drothe manages to pull off the art of being both enviably skilled and ridiculous as only humans can be. Rather than escaping James-Bond-style from every scrape, climbing along ceilings and bugging rooms to listen to his enemies’ conversations, he spends more time crashing through rooves, tripping over the edges of tables, irritating the local law enforcement and fending off assassins with a laundry basket.

Alongside this, Drothe’s sister Christiana, aforementioned best friend Bronze Degan, and the colourful cast of gang bosses, assassins, informants and fruit stall owners who accompany the tale are all well-developed personalities in their own right, and make wonderful additions to the tale.  Perhaps not always sympathetic, but they’re certainly forceful enough to remind us that Drothe isn’t the only one who's got something to lose. What’s more, although the “main” villain (if I can use that term – there’s an awful lot of people out to stick holes in our accident-prone narrator throughout the course of the story) bears a somewhat stereotypical name and motive, he genuinely rackets up his points on the scary-and-probably-crazy-o-metre. Especially in the closing stages of the book. Eat your heart out, Lord Voldemort.

But the story’s not all flash-bang and murderous front doors. Though there is little in the way of romance, the author has made a concerted effort to work in the emotional side of the story’s happenings. Drothe’s relationship with Christiana is the ultimate love-hate sibling rivalry– while she may set assassins on him every other week, she’s fiercely defensive of this sole right to fratricide, and although Bronze Degan has a habit of being incredibly unsympathetic over anything less than a missing limb, his loyalty to Drothe is nothing short of astounding. Dare I admit that I felt my heart breaking just a little bit when we see what that loyalty leads to?

A final spoiler-free note on the ending of the book, before I go: asthmatics may want to bring a spare tank of oxygen. In fact, everyone else should probably bring one too. Boxes of tissues are advised, but not obligatory.

Until next time, my friends. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to acquire myself a rapier . . .

"Among Thieves" is available for purchase on both UK and US Amazon (and presumably other major retailers), in paper and ebook format.

~Charley R

Hailsham and Humanity - Charley R Reviews "Never Let Me Go" by Kazuo Ishiguro

As a child, Kathy–now thirty-one years old–lived at Hailsham, a private school in the scenic English countryside where the children were sheltered from the outside world, brought up to believe that they were special and that their well-being was crucial not only for themselves but for the society they would eventually enter. Kathy had long ago put this idyllic past behind her, but when two of her Hailsham friends come back into her life, she stops resisting the pull of memory.

And so, as her friendship with Ruth is rekindled, and as the feelings that long ago fueled her adolescent crush on Tommy begin to deepen into love, Kathy recalls their years at Hailsham. She describes happy scenes of boys and girls growing up together, unperturbed–even comforted–by their isolation. But she describes other scenes as well: of discord and misunderstanding that hint at a dark secret behind Hailsham’s nurturing facade. With the dawning clarity of hindsight, the three friends are compelled to face the truth about their childhood–and about their lives now.

A tale of deceptive simplicity, Never Let Me Go slowly reveals an extraordinary emotional depth and resonance–and takes its place among Kazuo Ishiguro’s finest work.

***

If I'm honest, I doubt I would have picked this book up if it weren't on my set text list for the dystopian unit of our English Literature course next year (which, actually, I'm ridiculously excited about). While I found the tale's premise - a mysterious school, students who know they are different from their carers, but can't quite work out why, strange inconsistencies and little happenings that point to a darker undertone - intriguing, "Never Let Me Go" is not the sort of book I would usually pick up under my own steam.

With all the awards the book has won, I suppose I was probably being a little bit over-expectant. The sheer number of my schoolmates who have told me I simply have to read the book is somewhere beyond the reach of my fingers, and that's without mentioning my teachers harping on about it. 

I myself wasn't so sure. The opening sentences of the story look like the sort of thing I used to open a story with when I was about thirteen - a standard, rather uninteresting introduction to the character and their current situation. For me, one of the crucial things in a first person narrative, is the tone of the narrator, and how that helps me engage with them and their story. Kathy H, unfortunately, was not a character I was encouraged to be terribly interested in. I found her rather bland, uninteresting, and perhaps even a little self-absorbed. Though a few short divergents in the text indicate that she is writing as if someone is reading (things like "I don't know what it's like where you came from"), she doesn't seem particularly interested in engaging with us.

Kathy's recollections of her childhood and youth do not come to us in chronological order, which does save the uninspiring narrative voice somewhat - encouraging the reader to keep up with a stream of consciousness in your lead character is always a fun way of drawing them into a story. Learning about Kathy's life and world is interesting too, as a lot of the time we have to make our own links between the significance of certain events (Kathy, at least, seems to believe her readership has enough of a brain to follow where she's leading without needing a re-cap every three pages).

Hailsham itself is rather fascinating, although it may have been a little less so for me, as I happen to live in a boarding school instituation, and thus the novelty of such an environment had long since become normal. Little things seem to matter so much more to the characters there, and we find ourselves poking our noses through proverbial windows to wonder why. Unfortunately, the characters we follow were - I thought - rather uninspiring. Aside from Kathy, we only really meet two others in any great detail. While Tommy's childishly innocent approach to life is endearing at first, I very swiftly grew irritated with his cluelessness over even the most basic situations, and as for Ruth . . . maybe I saw too much of my own self-aggrandising side in her, because I spent more of the book than I would like to admit wishing to reach through the text and bash her face into a wall.

That said, however, the characters were very well presented, and realistic, given their circumstances. Even though I never grew fond of, or terribly interested in, any of the characters, it was fascinating to see how their sheltered, detached lifestyle altered their views on everything from food to clothes to more *ahem* intimate doings behind closed doors. Though the relationship that later develops between Kathy and Tommy was one of the most unrealistic romances I have ever read, their thought processes and background made the whole experience that bit more credible - not to mention creepy.

Overall, though, I would not rate this story as highly as many others might do - a three stars from a proverbial five, perhaps. While the setting and background is intriguing, the drab, unlikeable characters and hum-drum narrative style (there is never much sense of tension, or any emotion beyond the occasional unfriendly spat between the characters, thanks to Kathy's voice). This, coupled with the fact that the "alarming" plot twist at the end is presented in such an uninspiring way - not to mention the fact that most readers will probably have worked it all out by about ten chapters before we're supposed to - mean the story never quite achieves the shock and emotion it might otherwise have achieved.

"Never Let Me Go" is available from all major ebook and paper-book sources.

~Charley R

P.S. Don't forget to keep your "Writerly Tips" suggestions coming!

What the Dickens! - Charley R Reviews "Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens

Great Expectations charts the progress of Pip from childhood through often painful experiences to adulthood, as he moves from the Kent marshes to busy, commercial London, encountering a variety of extraordinary characters ranging from Magwitch, the escaped convict, to Miss Havisham, locked up with her unhappy past and living with her ward, the arrogant, beautiful Estella. Pip must discover his true self, and his own set of values and priorities. Whether such values allow one to prosper in the complex world of early Victorian England is the major question posed by Great Expectations, one of Dickens's most fascinating, and disturbing, novels.

For much of my life, the words "Charles Dickens" were enough to make me keel over, frothing at the mouth, screaming "No, sir, no sir, I do not want some more!" It wasn't that I didn't respect his work, it was simply the fact that I found the prose indigestible. It may be a result of the fact that a lot of his work was designed to be serialised in newspapers, but I found ploughing through pages and pages of descrptive language, which was all set out in suck a blockish, grey, uniformed manner, was just too much for me.

I also have my suspicions that having to near memorise the thoroughly lacklustre short story The Signalman for GCSE didn't help much either.

And thus, when I picked up Great Expectations as part of the reading for my Extended Essay on idealised characters, I had braced myself up for the worst. I was expecting horrors - it's a big book, split into three parts, and the premise of a plucky young man going out into the big city to make a name for himself put me so much in mind of Oliver Twist (which I have read, detested, and buried somewhere in the Corner of Shame underneath my dressing gown and a large pile of old magazines) that I nearly ran for the door then and there.

You'll be pleased to know I was so horribly wrong that I almost find it laughable.

Unlike the other Dickensian works that I have perused in the past, Great Expectations is written in first person, in a very conversational, almost companionable, tone of voice. Thus, we become much closer to the narrator and central character, Philip Pirrip - or, as we know him, Pip. Pip himself is a lovely character; engaging, honest, and at times highly amusing. Long transgressions of descriptive prose are rare, and the few that remain were dusted with such a delightful tone of gentle mockery that I actually found them rather enjoyable.

Because of this sleeker, more personalised narrative, Dickens' famous social caricatures really shine. Not only are the characters' names enough to induce several giggles - how could you not laugh at a name like Pumblechook or Wopsle? - but Dickens' snarky social observances are perfect. From the high-born lady who is so obsessed with her own history, and so utterly useless because of her closeted upbringing, that it's a wonder she doesn't kill her own baby; the small-town "thespian" who single-handedly turns Hamlet into a one-man circus act, to the thoroughly detestable young snotbag known as Bently Drummle, all of them, as well as being sources of great amusement and ridicule, make wonderful walking examples of Dickens' life view and - at times - vents for his own political beliefs.

What's more, the plot itself is an active little beastie. Rather than simply having Pip roam between rowing regattas, the blacksmith's forge and the home of his very creepy guardian Mr Jaggers, Dickens throws in convicts, love triangles, attempted murder and a very messy incident involving a boat engine ... though not, actually, in that order. There are some very poignant moments too, and sometimes you really do not expect some of the plot twists - I know I, for one, nearly fell out of my chair when the source of Pip's "inheritance" came to light! The blend of action and Pip philosophising is not always equal, but for the most part there is plenty to keep the reader interested.

On the other hand, even Dickens can't get everything right. Victorian literature is infamous for its sentimentality, and Great Expectations is no exception. Yes, Charles, we know Joe is a lovely, honest, bashful blacksmith. Yes, we know he deserves God's blessing. Yes, you can stop eulogising now.

In places, the realistic aspect of the dialogue has been sacrificed for the sake of making the conversation a means to expressing a point of view. Reading through the somewhat overcomplicated and deliberately mispronounced, garbled speech of Joe and the other more rustic characters is also very difficult until one gets the hang of it - though, admittedly, it's never easy. Some of the plot elements - sure such as the motive and backstory of Magwitch, and the sudden change-of-heart and serendipitious circumstances involving Estella at the end of the tale - are never made fully credible either, which is a pity, because the setting itself is beautifully accurate (which is hardly surprising, given that Dickens lived there his entire life).

Overall, I would say Great Expectations is a wonderful book - and I would thoroughly recommend it to anyone who is looking to get a good introduction to Victorian literature. In fact, I'd recommend it to anyone looking for an engaging protagonist, a strong setting, a cast of colourful characters and a feeling of cultured smugness as you sit down reading it on the train to London. One word of advice: make sure your edition has a glossary. Working out what in the name of sanity some of the colloquial slang means is a little tricky - and more than a little misleading - without it!

You can find this book at any local bookstore, and most web-based booksellers.

~ Charley R

Spies and Sneakery in Mediaeval Wales - Charley R Reviews "The Good Knight", by Sarah Woodbury

Woohoo! My first guest post invitation! Lights! Camera! Actually...  - my views on how adaptations of our favourite books need not always be on the silver screen. Thanks to the awesome Liam for allowing me to invade his lovely corner of the blogosphere.

In the meantime ... it's time for Charley's first book review!

"The Good Knight", by Sarah Woodbury.

Intrigue, suspicion, and rivalry among the royal princes casts a shadow on the court of Owain, king of north Wales…

The year is 1143 and King Owain seeks to unite his daughter in marriage with an allied king.  But when the groom is murdered on the way to his wedding, the bride’s brother tasks his two best detectives—Gareth, a knight, and Gwen, the daughter of the court bard—with bringing the killer to justice.

And once blame for the murder falls on Gareth himself, Gwen must continue her search for the truth alone, finding unlikely allies in foreign lands, and ultimately uncovering a conspiracy that will shake the political foundations of Wales.

I was gifted a selection of Sarah Woodbury's books by the lovely Mark Williams to tide me over during the trials of my Lower Sixth year. However, I only got to reading them two weeks ago during a long stretch of study leave between my penultimate and last exam. Four days is a long time to spend loitering, and where better to disappear into than Mediaeval Wales, on the trail of a murderous mystery!

The story kicks off in media res, and we are given quick, easy introductions to most of our main characters right from the off - even if we don't see them at the scene of the events directly. Though I'm not normally a fan of abrupt starts, I enjoyed this, as the characters were clear-cut and easy to recognise, and the mystery was quickly introduced without the need for an over-long buildup.  Our two narrators take the story from there, with each character narrating a chapter one after the other, keeping the pace just as quick and clean as it started. The ancient setting is described in a smiliar fashion; brief, with little elaborative or descriptive language, but with enough detail to give us the right sense, and allowing our imagination to fill in the rest.

The characters themselves are well-crafted and engaging right from the off. Gwen, our heroine, manages to be competent and likeable without falling prey to Rebellious Princess Syndrome, while her male counterpart Gareth keeps a distinctly different, but no less interesting, narrative tone. The elements of the mystery are brought together relatively quickly, but rather than abandoning the characters' own stories for the sake of a purely plot-driven construction, the author has made excellent use of the third person narrative style to meld the characters' intrepid sleuthing with their own thoughts. My brain cells positively purred at the ease with which the old relationship between Gareth and Gwen was brought to light piece by piece, with no brain-battering info-dump, remaining relevant to their actions in the story, rather than being a hastily shoehorned attempt at attaining sympathy.

The secondary characters, too, are lovely. From the whining, sneaking Cadwaladr (about whom I entertain pitchfork-and-entrail-related daydreams); snarky, dangerous Cadfael; Owain's adorably labrador-like heir Rhun and - my personal favourite - his cunning, understated brother, Hywel. The inter-familial links, and everyone's somewhat confounding names, take a bit of time to wrap your head around, but once one gets the hang of it there is a fantastic sense of political inter-relationship. Even Gwen's role as Hywel's spy - something which I, admittedly, found out of place for the period - becomes more clear as we learn about the motives and personalities of each of our key players. 

On the other hand, I did find one small component of the narrative to be slightly off. After an interesting start, and the amalgamation of the evidence regarding the painful end of the murder victim Anarawd, the lead suspect seems to catch on a little too quickly to Gwen and Gareth's snooping. The story shifts rather abruptly from a covert mystery into a more thriller-esque style of story involving sea-crossing, kidnapping, sieges and Vikings (not quite in that order). Thought the narrative remains taut and interesting, I found the jump a little hard to get round at first, and felt that our supposedly dastardly suspect could have taken a little more care.

However, the novel ends on a magnificent high - a plot twist that made me wriggle with glee. We know from the story that our narrators are far from thick, but when, at the end, a seemingly inconsequential item leads to quite the eye-opener, and I at least was left snorting with glee at the thought of how little of the political backstabbery and sneaking we had really seen - even though there is plenty of exciting double-dealing and tongue-twisting to keep us on our toes. 

Although I found some of the motive-related revelations to be a little tenuous - especially those regarding the murder with which the story begins, with regard to the personality of the revealed killer - I liked the twist itself as a game changer. Rather than simply letting the story crawl into the expected box for catalouging, it turns around and makes a vicious attack on our toes before sprinting into another box, on its own terms.

You can find links to "The Good Knight" in all its available formats on Sarah Woodbury's website, as well as a link to its sequel, "The Uninvited Guest".

All in all, a fast-paced entertaining read, especially for afficionados of plot twists, murky politics and mediaeval settings.