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patchworkbunny's Reviews (2.12k)
The fae of the land and the sea are on the brink of war. When the sons of the rulers of the Undersea Duchy of Saltmist are kidnapped, all fingers are pointing to the Queen of the Mists. October must discover who’s responsible and bring the boys back safe and sound in just three days. Or the fate of her friends will rest on her shoulders.
The story starts with Toby having got together with Connor. Considering all the looks and unspoken communication between her and Tybalt in the past, this seems a bit sudden. His pyscho wife has left and that means they’re together with no build up at all. In previous books it was mentioned they were childhood sweethearts but they grew apart, especially when Toby fell in love with a human and had a child. Then she’s a fish for 14 years and comes back and thinks he’s cute but there’s not really anything there. He’s a bit of a damp squib and a romantic lead, showing none of the sexual tension that exists between Toby and Tybalt. OK, am on team Tybalt and he does tend to disappear off for long periods of time, but he’s a cat. That’s what cats do. I would be more inclined to accept the relationship were there some sort of event which got them together. I have noticed there is a short story that falls between Late Eclipses and One Salt Sea so I will have to dig that out to see if it’s expanded upon.
It doesn’t take long for Connor to be called back to the sea and I couldn’t help feeling good riddance. I made the mistake of reading an Amazon review which contained the hugest spoiler ever, however there was enough other story to keep me interested. However Toby seems really detached from her emotions when it comes to her daughter. I thought this in the previous books but put it down to her stint as a fish, numbing her memories and emotional connotations. So when her daughter is in mortal danger, she goes through the actions of what is expected but the prose doesn’t really offer any emotional distress.
The thing with the Luidheag and her past with the sea and the selkies tugged at my heart strings. She is a fantastic character and I’m glad she and Toby have formed an awkward sort of friendship. I’ve come to notice that Tybalt keeps taking his jacket back sneakily and boosting his scent in the leather. It seems his way of subtly marking his territory but it also brings a sort of comfort to Toby. There’s a moment when it no longer smells like him and it really feels like it’s marking an end. His coat has become an important symbol which added to the sense of confusion with the whole Connor thing. Toby has acknowledged there’s something there on a few occasions and he is always looking out for her. In his growly ways, he is adorable.
Sometimes you can absolutely love a series even when some of the parts are lacking. I still ploughed through the pages and can’t wait to read more (I ordered the next book as soon as I finished). I am emotionally attached to certain characters and can forgive the flaws in each individual story.
The story starts with Toby having got together with Connor. Considering all the looks and unspoken communication between her and Tybalt in the past, this seems a bit sudden. His pyscho wife has left and that means they’re together with no build up at all. In previous books it was mentioned they were childhood sweethearts but they grew apart, especially when Toby fell in love with a human and had a child. Then she’s a fish for 14 years and comes back and thinks he’s cute but there’s not really anything there. He’s a bit of a damp squib and a romantic lead, showing none of the sexual tension that exists between Toby and Tybalt. OK, am on team Tybalt and he does tend to disappear off for long periods of time, but he’s a cat. That’s what cats do. I would be more inclined to accept the relationship were there some sort of event which got them together. I have noticed there is a short story that falls between Late Eclipses and One Salt Sea so I will have to dig that out to see if it’s expanded upon.
It doesn’t take long for Connor to be called back to the sea and I couldn’t help feeling good riddance. I made the mistake of reading an Amazon review which contained the hugest spoiler ever, however there was enough other story to keep me interested. However Toby seems really detached from her emotions when it comes to her daughter. I thought this in the previous books but put it down to her stint as a fish, numbing her memories and emotional connotations. So when her daughter is in mortal danger, she goes through the actions of what is expected but the prose doesn’t really offer any emotional distress.
The thing with the Luidheag and her past with the sea and the selkies tugged at my heart strings. She is a fantastic character and I’m glad she and Toby have formed an awkward sort of friendship. I’ve come to notice that Tybalt keeps taking his jacket back sneakily and boosting his scent in the leather. It seems his way of subtly marking his territory but it also brings a sort of comfort to Toby. There’s a moment when it no longer smells like him and it really feels like it’s marking an end. His coat has become an important symbol which added to the sense of confusion with the whole Connor thing. Toby has acknowledged there’s something there on a few occasions and he is always looking out for her. In his growly ways, he is adorable.
Sometimes you can absolutely love a series even when some of the parts are lacking. I still ploughed through the pages and can’t wait to read more (I ordered the next book as soon as I finished). I am emotionally attached to certain characters and can forgive the flaws in each individual story.
Emilie’s running away from home. Her plan is to stowaway on the steamship to Silk Harbour, to live with her cousin who runs a school. But stowing away isn’t as easy as it sounds and after being mistaken for a thief, she ends up on the wrong ship. A ship on a mission to travel to the world that exists beneath the world’s crust.
Emilie and the Hollow World is a wonderfully fun adventure story for the younger reader. I read it when I was ill and it was the perfect antidote. The story is a little reminiscent of The Journey to the Centre of the Earth, with a fantastical world hidden below the sea floor. Emilie finds out that seaweed isn’t always harmless, stumbles into a rivalry between philosophical sorcerers and does her very best not to get involved in all-out war.
Emilie’s world above ground, is an alternative steampunk earth. The sorcerers specialise in the study of aetheric currents which powers the ships and gives them the ability to travel to the hollow world. Emilie’s a fantastic, if a little naive, character who is learning that life isn’t always fair for girls. She has a great role model in Lady Marlende and discovers that first impressions shouldn’t be relied on. However, there’s no in-depth character development, which I don’t think matters for this kind of story. As one of the blurbs states it’s a “rollicking adventure” and the ideal book to give to a child who is between children’s books and young adult (warning: Emilie does mention her Aunt and Uncle think her mother was a whore).
I’m looking forward to more adventures with Emilie.
Emilie and the Hollow World is a wonderfully fun adventure story for the younger reader. I read it when I was ill and it was the perfect antidote. The story is a little reminiscent of The Journey to the Centre of the Earth, with a fantastical world hidden below the sea floor. Emilie finds out that seaweed isn’t always harmless, stumbles into a rivalry between philosophical sorcerers and does her very best not to get involved in all-out war.
Emilie’s world above ground, is an alternative steampunk earth. The sorcerers specialise in the study of aetheric currents which powers the ships and gives them the ability to travel to the hollow world. Emilie’s a fantastic, if a little naive, character who is learning that life isn’t always fair for girls. She has a great role model in Lady Marlende and discovers that first impressions shouldn’t be relied on. However, there’s no in-depth character development, which I don’t think matters for this kind of story. As one of the blurbs states it’s a “rollicking adventure” and the ideal book to give to a child who is between children’s books and young adult (warning: Emilie does mention her Aunt and Uncle think her mother was a whore).
I’m looking forward to more adventures with Emilie.
Jeanette was adopted by the Wintersons in the sixties and raised in a terraced house in Accrington, Lancashire. The evangelistic Mrs W was eternally disappointed in her, comparing her to the son they never had. Why Be Happy When You Can Be Normal? is the true story behind Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit and Jeanette’s far from happy childhood.
I do wonder if I would have got more out of this having read Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit as the first half felt very close to being a misery memoir, if a well-written one, which is something I like to avoid. Her childhood was depressing by all accounts and I was unsure if some bits were meant to be funny. It felt uncomfortable to be laughing at her mother; I guess it's a case of you either laugh or cry but I found the whole thing tragic. As I was reading it for book group, I did carry on and felt the book improved once she left home.
Jeanette does have some interesting things to say about books and reading. I liked her secret stash of books and her trips to the library to read English Literature from A to Z. I even enjoyed the parts which dealt with the history of Accrington and the culture of the North at the time. Perhaps it’s just hard for me to relate to her; the gender politics of the Thatcher era are so different from anything I’ve had to deal with. Whilst it's good to know these things, it's not really something I enjoy reading about.
I can see why this has been chosen as one of the World Book Night titles. It does show how reading and books can change your life. It will be interesting to see how people take to it with no knowledge of the author.
I do wonder if I would have got more out of this having read Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit as the first half felt very close to being a misery memoir, if a well-written one, which is something I like to avoid. Her childhood was depressing by all accounts and I was unsure if some bits were meant to be funny. It felt uncomfortable to be laughing at her mother; I guess it's a case of you either laugh or cry but I found the whole thing tragic. As I was reading it for book group, I did carry on and felt the book improved once she left home.
Jeanette does have some interesting things to say about books and reading. I liked her secret stash of books and her trips to the library to read English Literature from A to Z. I even enjoyed the parts which dealt with the history of Accrington and the culture of the North at the time. Perhaps it’s just hard for me to relate to her; the gender politics of the Thatcher era are so different from anything I’ve had to deal with. Whilst it's good to know these things, it's not really something I enjoy reading about.
I can see why this has been chosen as one of the World Book Night titles. It does show how reading and books can change your life. It will be interesting to see how people take to it with no knowledge of the author.
A while ago an article went round at work about how to spot a psychopath in your office and that they were often very successful in business. Jim Haskin reminds me of that. His job is to sell you a lifestyle and he doesn't care who he walks over to get there. Supposedly “green”, his public image is drastically different to the world inside his head.
The tone is very cynical and I find it hard to work out if McLeod is anti-green or anti-consumerism or just anti-America. Haskin's wife is in a coma and he blames his own marketing world to some extent. His relationship with her and the circumstances behind her coma are glossed over and I personally would have preferred a bit more insight to how he became such a dislikeable man. It's OK to hate characters, but there needs to be something for me to empathise with.
Haskin's first person narrative is interspersed with letters from his son who is at university in England. In some ways he takes after his father but I think there's still hope for him.
It's a book of the times; recession, Prop 8, hybrid vehicles, gadgets, Morgellon's disease and a world of constant marketing. Unfortunately plot is playing second fiddle to the social commentary and it just didn't grab me. There's just too much packed in for any one topic to really latch on. I think the presence of Morgellon's gives it an extra half star from me, though it's not a huge part of the story, it's a fascinating condition, driven by the suggestive nature of the internet. But I digress!
The tone is very cynical and I find it hard to work out if McLeod is anti-green or anti-consumerism or just anti-America. Haskin's wife is in a coma and he blames his own marketing world to some extent. His relationship with her and the circumstances behind her coma are glossed over and I personally would have preferred a bit more insight to how he became such a dislikeable man. It's OK to hate characters, but there needs to be something for me to empathise with.
Haskin's first person narrative is interspersed with letters from his son who is at university in England. In some ways he takes after his father but I think there's still hope for him.
It's a book of the times; recession, Prop 8, hybrid vehicles, gadgets, Morgellon's disease and a world of constant marketing. Unfortunately plot is playing second fiddle to the social commentary and it just didn't grab me. There's just too much packed in for any one topic to really latch on. I think the presence of Morgellon's gives it an extra half star from me, though it's not a huge part of the story, it's a fascinating condition, driven by the suggestive nature of the internet. But I digress!
Amaranth is on the run with her two teenage daughters, Amity and Sorrow. Exhausted after driving for days without sleep, she crashes the car, leaving them stranded. Help comes in the begrudging form of a farmer, Bradley, who lets them sleep on his porch despite their weird ways. For she is running from a cult, where she was the first wife among fifty and her daughters have never known anything other than the rule of the Father.
The girls very much reflect their namesakes. Amity, once she has got past the breaking of rules, is eager to make friends and wants to help everyone. Her joyful discovery of the world beyond the confines of the cult lifts the novel from what could be a disturbing tale. For Sorrow is broken beyond repair. Older than Amity, her experience within the cult were different and she is thoroughly brainwashed. When we meet her, it is during a harrowing scene of a miscarriage in the gas station toilets and whilst it doesn’t take long to piece two and two together, the extent of her devotion to the man who, quite frankly, abused her.
Amity is an endearing character and it’s her faith in her sister that makes you want things to turn out well for Sorrow. Otherwise, her pyromania and unpleasant nature would paint her as evil, but they are far more complex than that. You can tell Amity is torn between thinking for herself and protecting Sorrow, because everyone’s always done what’s best for Sorrow. There’s a thing with a kitten which is just awful (fair warning to animal lovers) and really makes you doubt any hope redemption.
All the names appear relevant; Amaranth’s significance may not be revealed until the end but Hope was certainly a sign of hope within the cult. You certainly got a sense that the women looked after each other and the sense of community was not necessarily a bad thing, even if the end result turned disastrous. Although Amaranth’s guilt is littered through the pages; as a mother, how did she let this happen to her children when all she wanted was to be saved? Even the name of Bradley’s current crop, rapeseed, is an ominous reminder of what has passed.
The novel alternates between the present day and the family’s time within the cult. At first, the timescales confused me a little, but the past plot line runs in reverse chronological order, so it is only at the end where you come to realise Amaranth’s motivation for joining him. It is interesting to see how something escalates in reverse.
I loved the dynamics on the farm. Bradley’s wife left him and he doesn’t have much faith in women but slowly forms a quiet friendship with Amaranth despite telling them he wants them gone. His father is an unlikely participant in the family’s wellbeing, bed-bound and curmudgeonly but sparking seeds of inspiration in them. Bradley’s adopted son, Dust, is charming and patient with the girls.
The girls very much reflect their namesakes. Amity, once she has got past the breaking of rules, is eager to make friends and wants to help everyone. Her joyful discovery of the world beyond the confines of the cult lifts the novel from what could be a disturbing tale. For Sorrow is broken beyond repair. Older than Amity, her experience within the cult were different and she is thoroughly brainwashed. When we meet her, it is during a harrowing scene of a miscarriage in the gas station toilets and whilst it doesn’t take long to piece two and two together, the extent of her devotion to the man who, quite frankly, abused her.
Amity is an endearing character and it’s her faith in her sister that makes you want things to turn out well for Sorrow. Otherwise, her pyromania and unpleasant nature would paint her as evil, but they are far more complex than that. You can tell Amity is torn between thinking for herself and protecting Sorrow, because everyone’s always done what’s best for Sorrow. There’s a thing with a kitten which is just awful (fair warning to animal lovers) and really makes you doubt any hope redemption.
All the names appear relevant; Amaranth’s significance may not be revealed until the end but Hope was certainly a sign of hope within the cult. You certainly got a sense that the women looked after each other and the sense of community was not necessarily a bad thing, even if the end result turned disastrous. Although Amaranth’s guilt is littered through the pages; as a mother, how did she let this happen to her children when all she wanted was to be saved? Even the name of Bradley’s current crop, rapeseed, is an ominous reminder of what has passed.
The novel alternates between the present day and the family’s time within the cult. At first, the timescales confused me a little, but the past plot line runs in reverse chronological order, so it is only at the end where you come to realise Amaranth’s motivation for joining him. It is interesting to see how something escalates in reverse.
I loved the dynamics on the farm. Bradley’s wife left him and he doesn’t have much faith in women but slowly forms a quiet friendship with Amaranth despite telling them he wants them gone. His father is an unlikely participant in the family’s wellbeing, bed-bound and curmudgeonly but sparking seeds of inspiration in them. Bradley’s adopted son, Dust, is charming and patient with the girls.
David doesn’t believe in God but he has devoted his life to the study and teaching of Christian mythology with a focus on Milton’s Paradise Lost. When he receives a mysterious job offer involving a trip to Venice, he sees it as nothing more than a chance to take his daughter on holiday, away from the disruption of his impending divorce. But what happens in Venice shakes his entire world view. Do demons really exist?
Professors get into loads of trouble don’t they? I had high hopes of this leaning towards The Historian or A Discovery of Witches territory however it turned out to be a fast paced thriller with a dollop of Milton. The story starts off establishing David’s history of depression and his family troubles before he experiences life changing events in Venice, which not only rock his faith but have a huge impact on his mental health. But instead of shying away from his problems, he is determined to get to the bottom of them, driven by a determination to save his daughter, even if no one else believes him.
I liked the idea of exploring Milton’s mythology in a modern day setting, and was entertained by the demon quoting Paradise Lost. However, it came across as a rather typical demonic possession. I wanted the demon to be more complex, especially since several passages focus on the idea that the fall of man wasn’t quite as black and white as portrayed in religious texts. For demon merely means “knowledge” and Lucifer was an angel that disagreed with God’s plan; a plan which kept mankind ignorant. I kind of like that version of the story, so to make the demons plain evil was a bit of a let-down. All the quoting of Milton was wasted.
There’s a certain cinematic quality to the novel. Interestingly Robert Zemeckis is on-board for a film adaptation already and I think it will be well suited to the big screen. The locations are perfect; Central Station, Venice and the open roads of Middle America. The pace moves quickly throughout and the demonic possession might work a bit better in a visual medium.
Professors get into loads of trouble don’t they? I had high hopes of this leaning towards The Historian or A Discovery of Witches territory however it turned out to be a fast paced thriller with a dollop of Milton. The story starts off establishing David’s history of depression and his family troubles before he experiences life changing events in Venice, which not only rock his faith but have a huge impact on his mental health. But instead of shying away from his problems, he is determined to get to the bottom of them, driven by a determination to save his daughter, even if no one else believes him.
I liked the idea of exploring Milton’s mythology in a modern day setting, and was entertained by the demon quoting Paradise Lost. However, it came across as a rather typical demonic possession. I wanted the demon to be more complex, especially since several passages focus on the idea that the fall of man wasn’t quite as black and white as portrayed in religious texts. For demon merely means “knowledge” and Lucifer was an angel that disagreed with God’s plan; a plan which kept mankind ignorant. I kind of like that version of the story, so to make the demons plain evil was a bit of a let-down. All the quoting of Milton was wasted.
There’s a certain cinematic quality to the novel. Interestingly Robert Zemeckis is on-board for a film adaptation already and I think it will be well suited to the big screen. The locations are perfect; Central Station, Venice and the open roads of Middle America. The pace moves quickly throughout and the demonic possession might work a bit better in a visual medium.
Juliet Moreau must make a meagre living scrubbing the halls of King’s College. She was once part of a respectable family until the scandal broke. Her father, a doctor, was suspected of horrific experiments on animals and fled the city. Juliet had long suspected him dead. The discovery of her childhood friend and servant, Montgomery, in a London inn, brings with it news of her father’s fate; living on a tropical island with no desire to reconnect with his daughter. When desperate times call for desperate measures, she begs Montgomery to take her back to the island.
The Madman’s Daughter is a retelling of The Island of Doctor Moreau from the perspective of his daughter and brings the story to a new audience. The narrative voice is perfectly balanced to reflect both the story’s gothic heritage and the tone of a young, yet modern for her time, lady. I’ve not read H.G. Wells’ novel but I have seen the 70s film a few times. Despite its derivative nature, I didn’t find it predictable in the slightest. Where one mystery is solved, another creeps into view and it’s a compelling and atmospheric read right to the very end.
For those not familiar with the original, I don’t want to spoil it too much. The questions of the ethics of medical research are still ones that are asked of today. In true science fiction fashion, both tellings ask the question, “How far is too far?” Juliet is not an objective observer; she truly wants to see the good in her father, to know that the blood of a madman isn’t in her veins. Whilst she is often afraid, she sees good in people, but she also is horrified by cruelty. Nothing is black and white in this world.
There an awful lot of to-ing and thro-ing between the two love interests, however we have to remember it’s set in a time when unmarried women just weren’t allowed to be friends with the opposite sex. So of course she has to consider marriage potential every time she meets a man she likes the company of. However there were also some lovely moments of friendship between herself and the island inhabitants. Overcoming her instinctual fear and trying to decide what’s right, can become a very difficult thing indeed.
I did spy somewhere that this was the first in a series. It’s perfectly complete as a standalone novel and I’d be hesitant to drag the story out. However I would love to revisit the island some time, so I will keep my beady eyes out for a second book if it happens.
The Madman’s Daughter is a retelling of The Island of Doctor Moreau from the perspective of his daughter and brings the story to a new audience. The narrative voice is perfectly balanced to reflect both the story’s gothic heritage and the tone of a young, yet modern for her time, lady. I’ve not read H.G. Wells’ novel but I have seen the 70s film a few times. Despite its derivative nature, I didn’t find it predictable in the slightest. Where one mystery is solved, another creeps into view and it’s a compelling and atmospheric read right to the very end.
For those not familiar with the original, I don’t want to spoil it too much. The questions of the ethics of medical research are still ones that are asked of today. In true science fiction fashion, both tellings ask the question, “How far is too far?” Juliet is not an objective observer; she truly wants to see the good in her father, to know that the blood of a madman isn’t in her veins. Whilst she is often afraid, she sees good in people, but she also is horrified by cruelty. Nothing is black and white in this world.
There an awful lot of to-ing and thro-ing between the two love interests, however we have to remember it’s set in a time when unmarried women just weren’t allowed to be friends with the opposite sex. So of course she has to consider marriage potential every time she meets a man she likes the company of. However there were also some lovely moments of friendship between herself and the island inhabitants. Overcoming her instinctual fear and trying to decide what’s right, can become a very difficult thing indeed.
I did spy somewhere that this was the first in a series. It’s perfectly complete as a standalone novel and I’d be hesitant to drag the story out. However I would love to revisit the island some time, so I will keep my beady eyes out for a second book if it happens.
This is not a story about Jack the Ripper. The year is 1888 and London is living in fear and with a morbid fascination of the serial killer but there is another killer on the loose. When remains are discovered on the construction site for Scotland Yard, police are eager to pin them on Jack. But when more parts are found, it becomes clear to Dr Thomas Bond that the deaths are not connected. The doctor, in a bid to overcome his insomnia, spends his nights in the city’s opium dens. One night he observes a strange man who watches the addicts as they slumber; a man who could be the link to solving the Thames Torso Murders as they were to become known.
For a year so well known for Jack the Ripper, it is interesting to note that there were other murders, just as terrifying, taking place within London. The concept of Mayhem lies within the sense of “mayhem and wickedness” that spread throughout the city. That something else, an ancient and dark evil, may have influenced those already criminally inclined, to act out. Jack is just a side story, as although Dr Bond was involved in both cases, this is a slightly more supernatural theory behind the Thames Torso Murders, based on historical events.
I’m pretty sure all the newspaper clippings within the text are taken from actual historical records. Dr Bond’s observations on Jack the Ripper definitely are, and a few of the others can be found amongst those collated by Ripper enthusiasts. I kind of love old newspaper reports so this was a nice touch, although they have been cropped down. I definitely think it will appeal to fans of Lloyd Shepherd’s style of historical fiction with a twist.
The main problem for me was that the story lost momentum about half way through. At the start of part two, it is pretty much revealed who and what is responsible for the crimes. Sometimes I don’t mind this, but there wasn’t enough suspense in Dr Bond’s investigation. He gets an inkling quite quickly but dismisses it and I started to get annoyed that he wasn’t following his instincts.
The beauty of these kinds of books is that they introduce you to little moments of history you might otherwise overlook and I find they lead me into reading up more on the subject. I went on to find out more about Dr Bond; he really was an insomniac who was driven to narcotics. There is a lovely note from Sarah in the preface on fictionalising historical figures:
For a year so well known for Jack the Ripper, it is interesting to note that there were other murders, just as terrifying, taking place within London. The concept of Mayhem lies within the sense of “mayhem and wickedness” that spread throughout the city. That something else, an ancient and dark evil, may have influenced those already criminally inclined, to act out. Jack is just a side story, as although Dr Bond was involved in both cases, this is a slightly more supernatural theory behind the Thames Torso Murders, based on historical events.
I’m pretty sure all the newspaper clippings within the text are taken from actual historical records. Dr Bond’s observations on Jack the Ripper definitely are, and a few of the others can be found amongst those collated by Ripper enthusiasts. I kind of love old newspaper reports so this was a nice touch, although they have been cropped down. I definitely think it will appeal to fans of Lloyd Shepherd’s style of historical fiction with a twist.
The main problem for me was that the story lost momentum about half way through. At the start of part two, it is pretty much revealed who and what is responsible for the crimes. Sometimes I don’t mind this, but there wasn’t enough suspense in Dr Bond’s investigation. He gets an inkling quite quickly but dismisses it and I started to get annoyed that he wasn’t following his instincts.
The beauty of these kinds of books is that they introduce you to little moments of history you might otherwise overlook and I find they lead me into reading up more on the subject. I went on to find out more about Dr Bond; he really was an insomniac who was driven to narcotics. There is a lovely note from Sarah in the preface on fictionalising historical figures:
Personally, if someone chooses to breathe life into me again, between the pages of a book a hundred years after I die, I hope that whatever is left of me in the wind and the rain would smile a little, and take whatever changes they made to my life with good humour.