Kam

Thus far in the course of my reread of this series, I???ve generally compared my previous experience of the book from when I first read it, to my current experience as I???ve read it now 10-plus years down the line. And so far, what???s happened is that the book in question has either lived up to my memory of it, or (as in the case of the previous two books, but especially in the case of the Deception of the Emerald Ring) failed to live up to that experience.

But in the case of this book, I???m going to have to say that my current experience of it actually exceeds my previous experience. I remember being entertained by Charlotte and Robert???s romance, but not liking it as much as Letty and Geoffrey???s. Now, though, I think I might actually like Charlotte and Robert???s romance more than Letty and Geoffrey???s, mostly because I thoroughly enjoyed ups and downs of their dynamic - in particular, the way Charlotte deals with her disillusionment regarding Robert, and how they resolve that in the end. It was clearly painful, but I really enjoyed how Charlotte negotiated that pain and came out all the stronger for it at the end.

As for Robert, I found him interesting because he was so different from the previous four male leads. The way he thinks of the nobility and their habits and pursuits are very different from the way Richard, Miles, Geoffrey, and Lord Vaughn think about it, and it was really rather refreshing to get another perspective on that whole thing. His own concerns regarding the relationship he has with his family and his title are also interesting to read about, mostly because of how conflicted he is about both.

Speaking of family, I realize that in today???s online climate, the whole thing about Robert and Charlotte being cousins may lead to some rather...LOUD displays of scandalized horror from certain quarters. So to make things clear: it???s laid out in the first chapter that Charlotte and Robert are VERY distantly related, so their romance is rather like two people from a small town occupied by a handful of families getting together and settling down. Secondly, such marriages were common amongst the nobility from many cultures around the world as a means of consolidating and holding on to money, property, and power. Hell, in many cases the consanguinity would be MUCH closer than the very distant relationship Charlotte and Robert have, with first cousins oftentimes being viewed as acceptable for such marriages. It might not be right, but the fact remains that such marriages were practiced in the past, they were practiced during the Regency, and continue to be practiced today.

(If you???re interested in how such marriages can go awry across the generations, then look into the Habsburgs, whose family tree - and the consequent health concerns - make for morbidly fascinating reading.)

Additionally, this book dips into something that not of novels set during the Regency look at: King George II???s mental health. I won???t get into that too much because of spoilers, but suffice to say that there???s a reason why this specific period in time is so often called the ???Regency???, and George II???s mental health had much to do with it. This novel also gives readers a glimpse into how mental health conditions were treated, and it puts into perspective just how VERY far we???ve come in the 21st century when it comes to mental health treatment. Makes me damn thankful too.

So overall, this reread was a lovely ride - one that I think is better than the previous novels thus far, and ranks higher than Deception of the Emerald Ring, which was my favorite up until this point. Here???s to hoping the next one???s not so bad - though I???m also setting my expectations low because it takes place in British-occupied India.
 

Book-to-movie adaptations have been around almost since the beginning of moviemaking. One of the earliest book-to-movie adaptations was released in 1899: an adaptation of the fairytale Cinderella, as told by the Brothers Grimm. It was made by Georges M??li??s, a pioneer filmmaker who is more famous for his 1902 release A Trip to the Moon, which is a loose adaptation of Jules Verne???s From the Earth to the Moon and H.G. Wells??? The First Men in the Moon.

Since then the film industry has frequently mined literature for stories to make into movies, many of which become immensely successful: Gone With the Wind and The Lord of the Rings film trilogy come easily to mind. Both are some of the highest-grossing films every made, and are considered classics both as books and as movies. However, for every book-to-movie adaptation that makes it big, there are many, many more that fail. Take, for example, the film adaptation of Christopher Paolini???s Eragon, which was almost universally panned by critics despite its powerhouse cast (which included Jeremy Irons and John Malkovich in important supporting roles, and Rachel Weisz voicing the dragon Saphira). There were plans to adapt Paolini???s entire series into film, but the sequels never materialised because of Eragon???s poor critical reception and relatively modest earnings.

Both examples lead to an interesting question: why do some book-to-movie adaptations fail, and why do others succeed? There are many reasons: in some cases (as it was with The Lord of the Rings and Gone With the Wind), it was a combination of just the right director choosing just the right material, and choosing to execute it in just the right way. With Eragon, it was a case of the novel itself not being substantial enough or strong enough to really carry itself as a film, even if it did so as a novel. Sometimes it???s a matter of hype: Fifty Shades of Grey might be one of the most appalling novels ever written, but it succeeded in the box office because of the hype surrounding the novel - this, despite the main stars??? lack of onscreen chemistry; the manifold directorial and scripting issues before and during shooting; and the confusing and turbulent (to say the least) promotional tours for the film. On the flip side, there are the Harry Potter movies, which were driven by the devotion of fandom, cast, and crew to their source material to become one of the most successful film franchises in recent memory.

But not all of that influence is one-way, from book to film. In more recent years, and especially in genre fiction, the influence of film and television is becoming more and more apparent. This is most obvious in pacing and narrative: some novels read as if they could be movies in their own right, with the general story arc paced to hit all the points of an excellent film. Whether or not this is deliberate on the part of authors is not really the point: the point is that the influence is there, and clear for any reader to see.

This is very true with Michael Livingston???s The Shards of Heaven, the first book in the series of the same title. Set in the chaotic years immediately after the death of Julius Caesar, Livingston combines history and mythology in an adventure that would not be out-of-place on the big or small screen. It follows Juba the Numidian, adopted son of Julius Caesar, as he goes on a search for the fabled Shards of Heaven - immensely powerful artefacts that he believes will get him the one thing he wants most in the world: vengeance.

When I first picked up this book, I was more than a little leery. After all, the last book I picked up that combined history with magic was Mark Alder???s Son of the Morning, and I came to despise that book so much that I forced myself to finish it just so I could complain about all its flaws and be justified in my complaints. Fortunately, I do not have too many issues with The Shards of Heaven, which, while it has its pitfalls, has plenty to recommend it, as well.

Chief of those recommendations is the writing. I found it rather difficult to select quotes from this novel, mostly because Livingston???s writing is highly functional: that is to say, it does no more and no less than it ought to tell the story, with very little flourish. However, just because it is functional does not mean that it is poor - indeed, I think Livingston???s writing style highly conducive to the kind of story he is trying to tell. Given Livingston???s choice of setting, he does not really have to devote a lot of time describing it: the readers likely to pick up his novel will, in all likelihood, already be familiar with his chosen setting (even if that familiarity only comes from TV shows and movies).

This functional style comes in especially handy when writing fight scenes, where overly-elaborate prose can make it difficult to imagine just what, exactly, is happening. Take this scene, for example:

The two men flailed to the floor together, grunting as splintered wood fell like rain in the little room. Valerius hit the ground first, but he was able to kick his lower body up in continuation of the legionnaire???s momentum, sending the far bigger man hurtling against the barred door. The assassin then rolled quickly, recovering his balance even as the dazed legionnaire scrambled to get his feet under him and began pawing for the glades at his side.Valerius came forward at him, knife ready in his grip, but before he could strike he screamed and buckled to one knee as Caesarion jammed his little wooden blade into the soft flesh at the back of his right leg. The assassin swung his arm back at the boy instinctively, catching him above the eye with the butt of his knife, sending him sprawling.Gritting his teeth against the pain, Valerius turned back around in time to see the big legionnaire draw an arm back and forward, pushing a gladius into his belly, just below his rib cage. Gasping against the cold steel in his gut, the assassin still tried to swing his knife, but the legionnaire held fast to his sword with strong hands, and his thick arms flexed as he twisted it in his grip, scratching the blade into bone. Valerius groaned, strained, then dropped his weapon and sank against the killing stroke, watching, helpless and gasping in broken breaths, as the legionnaire stood, wincing from wounds of his own, and pushed forward until the assassin collapsed to his back.

There is another, move evocative fight sequence further on in the novel, but I have chosen to quote the one above because the other contains potential spoilers. At any rate, the clear and relatively clean description make it easy for the reader to follow along with the action: refreshing, especially when one considers how some writers describe fight scenes so muddled that the reader can skip over them and not have to worry about missing anything important.

The functionality of Livingston???s prose also does wonderful things for his plot and pacing. Given that this novel is basically an adventure story, ensuring that the plot keeps chugging along at a relatively quick pace is vital, and Livingston accomplishes that quite well. His plot hits all the same high points a good action-adventure movie like The Mummy or Indiana Jones does - probably the main reason why this novel reads like a movie in and of itself. The only time there is any hitch in the pacing is when Livingston slows down for exposition: necessary, of course, but he does have a tendency to repeat information that the reader already knows.

However, while Livingston???s writing works fantastically well for his fight scenes and his overall plot and narrative, it does undermine his characterisation somewhat. It???s not all bad: most of his characters are interesting and fun to read about, if a bit flat. Given the heavy emphasis on plot, it is unsurprising that characters lack a certain amount of depth. While I found this relatively easy to ignore for most of the characters, given the promise of deeper characterisation in the sequels, I could not let them all slide. I was particularly irritated with Livingston???s characterisation of Cleopatra VII, whom he writes as a seductress who seems incapable of turning off the charm, even when circumstances dictate that she turn the charm off. Take, for example, the following excerpt,which describes Cleopatra during a war council:

???Cleopatra moved around to stand behind Antony???s chair, her hips swaying beneath her fine linens and her wrists twisting to clink the ornate bracelets that wound around them like thin gold snakes.??????the long smooth fingers of Cleopatra draped over [Antony???s] shoulder, gently restraining him in his chair. ???They believe a woman on the battlefield is??????her painted lips parted sensuously, seemed to work around the word in Latin that she was searching for??????improper????

Elsewhere in the novel, various characters remark on Cleopatra???s beauty, both negatively and positively, and on the influence she wields over Antony, which she appears to accomplish via her ???feminine wiles???, generally accompanied by descriptions of how sexy (though that word is never used) she is. This was annoying in the extreme: after all, Cleopatra???s influence was not based solely on her powers of seduction. Historians and scholars all agree that Cleopatra???s appeal, for both Antony and Julius Caesar before him, was, in large part, due to her intelligence - she was Queen of Egypt for a reason - and her vast wealth. While there is no doubt that she turned to seduction when necessary, to assume that she relied on it exclusively, the way Livingston characterises her, is not only unrealistic, but insulting to all scholars who have done their best to understand who Cleopatra really was.

Another, albeit minor, issue that I have with this novel is the lore Livingston has come up with for the Shards. It is clear he is trying his hardest to make them into objects of true significance and not just another set of MacGuffins, but there are some aspects of that lore that I find somewhat questionable. However, I am choosing to withhold further judgment, since this is just the first novel and it is possible Livingston will refine it into something better in later books - or at least, I genuinely hope that is the case.

Overall, The Shards of Heaven is an enjoyable adventure novel in the tradition of the Indiana Jones and The Mummy movies: the plot moves quite quickly in keeping with the genre, and Livingston???s functional prose is well-suited to the task of keeping the story moving. This is especially clear in the fight scenes, where the descriptions make the action comprehensible and easy for the reader to imagine clearly.

However, this does come at the cost of characterisation. The characters do not come off as completely three-dimensional, though this is easy to ignore for the most part, once again because of the novel???s genre. Livingston???s characterisation of Cleopatra, however, is inexcusable, and I wonder how a historian could have written her in that manner. Some readers might also have some issues with the lore for the Shards, but there is the chance that it will be refined in later books, so it is possible to keep an open mind and wait to read the sequel before passing judgment on the series as a whole.

So I picked this up because I needed some more horror after finally wrapping up my reread (and read, in the case of The Lure of the Moonflower!) of the Pink Carnation series. I was in the mood for a little more horror after practically devouring Catriona Ward???s Sundial. And since I???m always game for some cosmic horror, Paradise-1 seemed right up my alley.

And in a way, it was! The overall concept was intriguing, and I was pulled into the whole thing by the first handful of chapters. I really wanted to know what was going to happen to the characters as they left the Solar System and headed for Paradise-1, and when the first disaster struck, I was ready to see how things would devolve and how the (surely) horrific mysteries teased at the beginning of the story would be revealed.

But that didn???t turn out to be the case. Fun as the concept is, the potential horror lost a LOT of its power when the story began to go on, and on, and ON. Put simply: this was way, WAY longer than it needed to be. In fact, there are twenty to thirty chapters - whole chunks of narrative - in this novel that could absolutely be taken out and it wouldn???t affect the narrative at all - in fact, it would be a significant improvement. Take it down to something in the vicinity of 300-350 pages, instead of the 600+ it currently has, and it might read much better. Trim out all the fat, as it were. 

As for the horror, I can SEE where it would be scary, but instead there???s a lot of parts where it feels like the author???s presenting a kind of set piece to play out in front of the reader, in the hopes that it???ll scare them. Which honestly, just doesn???t work for me: I???m someone who can watch a slasher movie while eating and not be put off my meal. I need something more insidious than blood, gore, and guts to really get to me - and the sad thing is? This novel HAS THE POTENTIAL FOR THAT. It was just stretched out for far longer than it needed to be, and many of the scenes that SHOULD have felt scary felt more like they were there for nothing more than shock value - which honestly becomes really old, pretty fast (especially when the same scenario is presented THREE TIMES, just in slightly different flavors).

The above also affects the characters. Initially they feel likable enough, but it gets kind of hard to keep on liking them when bad things keep happening to them and they keep on walking into them. I???m especially disappointed with the way Zhang was characterized, as there was plenty of potential there to explore the effects of PTSD when one is thrust into a scenario that reopens all those old traumas, but given how long the story dragged and how often he walked into the Same Scenario in Three Different Flavors thing, it???s easy to lose sympathy for him. The only one I think I actually liked was Rapscallion, but I can easily imagine him being an even more interesting character if the aforementioned flaws weren???t there.

You know what really gets me about this though? As long as it already is, as bloated as it already feels, IT ACTUALLY HAS A SEQUEL. Which I???m slightly intrigued by because I want to know what happens next, but if it???s another overlong monstrosity like this one? I might have to pass. 

I am not a very devoted music fanatic. I do not have a list of favourite bands or performers - or rather, I do, but that list is always negotiable and open to change. I do not anticipate album drops with any level of interest or excitement. And it always makes me nervous when someone asks me what my favourite song is, because, in truth, I do not really have one. I might have a song I favour during a specific moment, yes, but come back to me the next day, or even the next hour, and ask me the same question, and I am apt to give a different response.

Despite this, I enjoy listening to music. While there are times when I use music as a background-filler while doing something else, I am capable of appreciating a good soundtrack for a film, video game, or TV show, of pointing out when it works or when it doesn???t. I???m also quite capable of appreciating an artist???s performance, whether as a vocalist or on an instrument. And I am more than familiar with the kind of magic that occurs when a great piece of music is put in the hands of an amazing artist, and of that moment when music stops being something one just listens to, but becomes something one experiences.

It is that bone-deep experience of music, the kind that goes beyond the ears and into the heart and soul, that Richard Harvell attempts to capture in his novel The Bells. Set in eighteenth-century Europe, it follows the story of Moses Froben, know to the world as Lo Svizzero, the darling of opera from Austria to England. Structured as a memoir discovered by his son, Nicolai, the novel follows Moses, from his lowly birth as the son of a deaf bell-ringer of a tiny and isolated village in the Swiss Confederacy, to the moment he becomes the most famous opera singer in the world. Moses also reveals a secret he has kept from his son: the secret to his incredible talent as a singer and musician.

The best part of this novel is its language. Harvell has a rather amazing way with words, one that is capable of making something as ephemeral as sound seem more concrete in a way that has nothing to do with sheet music. To be sure, sheet music has proven an invaluable tool for archiving and recording music for posterity, but it does not capture the experience of listening to music, nor does it capture the other sounds that surround us: the music - and the noise - of life in general.

That is where Harvell succeeds. Much like Patrick S??skind manages to put the experience of smell into words (an experience more ephemeral by far than sound, in my opinion), Harvell puts into words the many marvellous and repulsive sounds that Moses hears throughout his life. For example, in the excerpt below Moses describes the belfry in which he and his mother spent most of their time, as well as the sound of the great bells his mother rang:

In terms of space, our belfry was a a tiny world - most would have thought it a prison for a child. But in terms of sound, it was the most massive home on earth. For every sound ever made was trapped in the metal of those bells, and the instant my mother struck them, she released their beauty to the world. So many ears heard the thunderous pealing echo through the mountains. They hated it; or were inspired by its might; or cried as the vibrations shook their sadness out. But they did not find it beautiful. The beauty of the pealing was reserved for my mother, and for me, alone.

While it makes sense to describe sound by way of emotion, Harvell does not stop there. In the following excerpt, he describes bells, and the sounds they make, in a manner that is strikingly visual:

A bell is a tower of tiny bands, stacked thinly one upon the other, and each of these bands rings a different pitch, just as a thousand shades of paint shine slightly different hues.

Anyone who has ever seen the paintings of the Impressionists, like Monet and Renoir, can readily grasp what Harvell is trying to accomplish in the above quotation. In an Impressionist painting, subtly different colours are applied next to each other so that, when one looks at the painting from a distance, one does not see the individual colours, but perceives them as blended together to create the necessary gradations of light and shadow that the Impressionists are famous for. In the same manner, every part of a bell has subtly different sounds, so that, depending on where the player strikes it, one hears a different tone or note entirely.

But where Harvell???s prose really stands out is in his descriptions of Moses??? performances, particularly of the listeners. Since Moses is so attuned to sound, he perceives the reactions of his audience differently, and Harvell shows that difference quite beautifully:

Like a crystal goblet rubbed with a wet finger along its rim, the faintest ringing gradually arose in her???my voice vibrating in the muscles of her neck and upper back. Is this how my mother would have heard my voice?As Amalia tuned herself to my song, I adjusted the pitch of my notes to her, and so it seemed I held her neck with my own warm hands. I felt, for the first time, that desire to know my voice in her, like the painter who falls in love with his subject because of the power of his own brush.

Again Harvell interweaves images and sounds together to create a picture the reader can feel almost viscerally. When one listens to music, after all, one is not just focused solely on sound: one attaches images, smells, even emotions, whole memories, to the music. Harvell is very good at bringing these concepts together and making them play so nicely that the reader can, if they try, all but hear the music even if they have never heard the piece mentioned in the story.

However, the glowing beauty of Harvell???s language actually masks a story and characters that are, in the end, not particularly interesting or compelling. As someone who loves beautiful language and enjoys a good turn of phrase, it is terribly easy to be dazzled by Harvell???s word-spinning and think this novel is something better than it actually is. However, once I held it at a distance, I quickly realised that, Harvell???s lovely prose aside, the novel really isn???t anything to write home about.

Take the plot, for example. Once the reader has stripped away Harvell???s prose, it becomes clear that the story is essentially a retelling of the Orpheus and Eurydice myth. Now, while there is certainly nothing wrong with retelling stories, especially one with as great potential for metaphor as the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, Harvell???s retelling is a particularly melodramatic interpretation, a tale of close calls and doomed love. For all that it is wrapped in beautiful language, the story itself, when stripped to its bones, lacks a certain poetic nuance; it is a story of bombastic gestures and extreme paroxysms of emotion. In short, it is very much like an opera - a rather interesting and appropriate comparison, because the latter third of the novel is focused on a fictionalised version of the 1762 premier of Christoph Willibald Gluck???s opera Orfeo ed Euridice.

This operatic tendency extends to the characters. With the exception of Moses, all the other characters lack a certain layer of complexity and subtlety: easy to remember because of some distinguishing aspect of physicality or personality that defines them entirely, or because of the role they play in Moses??? narrative. I suspect the only reason Moses has an subtlety in characterisation (though even that is in comparison to the other characters, not because he, himself, is subtly characterised) is because he is the narrator, and the reader is privy to all his thoughts and feelings. This knowledge allows the reader to contrast his thoughts with his actions, providing a layer of characterisation the others lack. However, when all is said and done, Moses is not really better-characterised than everyone else around him; he just happens to stand out because he is the narrator.

Overall, The Bells is a lovely read - at least, while the reader is engaged with it. Like listening to a song that is beautiful only when one is listening to it but is otherwise unremarkable, so it is with this novel. Harvell???s exquisite language renders the reader temporarily blind to what is, in reality, a rather mediocre story populated by middle-of-the-road characters. It is an enjoyable experience while it lasts, but is, unfortunately, not really something that will linger with the reader after they finish the novel.

I do like it when a series improves exponentially, and this is definitely the case with the Industrial Magic novellas. While Brother's Ruin was a fun-enough read, I thought the plot was a bit too thin and could have been longer. While Weaver's Lament doesn't feel much longer than its predecessor, it does feel a lot more substantial and self-contained. I attribute this to the themes: class and privilege and the way both contribute to inequality, oppression, and prejudice, using the treatment of cotton mill workers as a frame of sorts. The inhumanity of the mill workers' treatment as portrayed in the novella is real enough, but the added magical element and associated twist just really drive home how inhumane conditions were at the time for factory workers in general - and worse, can still be, even in these supposedly more enlightened contemporary times.

Other things that make me happy about this novella are the character development and the overall plot. Charlie grew a little in the previous novella, but this go-round really tested her as a character, and while it's clear she still has a lot of growing left to do, I'm now really looking forward to seeing how that happens. As for the plot, I think it's a lot more self-contained, and of just the right length. I'm now definitely looking forward to the next novella, and seeing where Charlie goes next, and what injustice she will attempt to take on.

Okay, so when I first read this years ago I remember putting together a fancast for the series, and I distinctly remember fancasting Tom Hiddleston for Augustus Whittlesby at the time. I had–have–an ENORMOUS crush on Hiddleston, and I knew I???d been ???saving??? him for my favorite male character in the series - and then I made him the face for Augustus.

And...I can totally see why. Quite apart from the fact that Augustus DOES share physical traits with Hiddleston (especially the curly blond hair), there???s something about Augustus???s characterization in this novel that just made him one of my absolute favorite male characters in the series, and which moves him to the top spot in this reread (which used to be occupied by Geoffrey). The way his story tackles the concept of constructing illusions, and then having those illusions fall apart, was something that I found wonderful to read about: whether that was his disillusionment in his job as a spy, or his feelings for Jane.

That???s also mirrored in Emma???s character development. While it???s easy to assume that her disillusionment already happened (and part of it did), there???s a lot that happens in the ???present??? of the timeline she and Augustus occupy, especially where it concerns how she deals with conflict. It was lovely rediscovering how she and Augustus deal with their respective crises, and come out the other side with a far better understanding of what love–true love–is actually about.

I???ve also noticed how, as of Blood Lily, the background historical events used in the plots tend to be a bit more rooted in history than they were in the first five books. This is an upgrade in my opinion; it makes things all the more interesting–and all the more dangerous–when you can see just how high the stakes are from the perspective of actual history. 

Full review here: https://wp.me/p21txV-Hy

“...a lighthearted, charming read, filled with wonderful characters and clever, gently humorous writing. But at the core of that charm and lightheartedness are themes of hopefulness in the face of great adversity; of finding strength in oneself after harrowing life events; and that love and happiness are not just for the undamaged, but for everyone.”

I picked this book up on a whim because I thought the blurb was pretty interesting. Seriously, when a blurb opens with “underground black market for arcane things” that's almost an insta-buy for me. But it turns out that, though the premise is absolutely fascinating, the execution leaves something to be desired. The action was pretty good and the worldbuilding was...functional, but the story itself lacked oomph. It was a lot of running around and humans and supernatural entities getting into trouble and getting horrifically injured and/or horrifically dying, but it was actually kind of blah. I think it's that the characters lack personality; they're all very bland. They're interesting when they're taking action, but in and of themselves they're not all that intriguing. Maybe that will improve in the later books in the series (yes, it's a series).

This is what I mean when I say that Creatures of Will and Temper reads like a variation in major mode of Dorian Gray: where Lord Henry???s cynicism destroys Dorian, Lady Henry???s sincerity uplifts Dorina, and where Dorian descends into duplicity, Dorina and Evadne quit lying to themselves and decide to be who they truly wish to be. However, all of that positivity is leavened out with a bittersweet note all throughout, which is only as it should be because if it was always upbeat all the time, then the variation would ring utterly false, and become something else entirely ??? something completely different from the original material.

Of course, Creatures of Will and Temper is its own, distinct work, and therefore has its own themes that do not exist in Dorian Gray. One of those is the theme of sisterhood. The emotional heart of this novel is the sisterly connection between Evadne and Dorina, who are almost completely each other???s opposites and yet still rely on and care for each other no matter what. The arguments and fights they engage in with each other throughout the novel are interesting to read because it is through those arguments that the author develops the characters, and to a certain degree the plot as well. Readers may find Dorina???s flightiness and/or Evadne???s narrow-mindedness irritating at times, but not all characters can be likeable all the time ??? even the ones we are supposed to sympathise with.

Full review here: https://wp.me/p21txV-G9

So after the disappointment of Deception of the Emerald Ring, I went into this book hoping it???d hold up to my memories of it better than the book that preceded it, and I???m glad to say that: it actually did! Well, sort of.

As expected, it was the romance between Mary and Lord Vaughn that actually carried this book for me. I know I said I liked Letty and Geoffrey as a couple, and that I empathized a lot with Letty, but I think I like Mary and Vaughn???s romance more than Letty and Geoffrey???s. A lot of that has to do with what Mary and Vaughn are like as characters: they???re both jaded and cynical, and both have an edge of arrogance handfasted to cruelty. Would I want them as friends IRL? No, because I strongly suspect that if they were real they wouldn???t be very good people. But as characters? They are VERY interesting to read about - especially their dynamic when they???re around each other. 

Speaking of Mary, there???s a thread here about the general misogyny of the era that was really put in the forefront in this book. The misogyny???s an undercurrent that runs throughout the books thus far, but in this book Mary has this conversation with Vaughn that lays the whole thing out in the open. She basically says that a man like Vaughn can make whatever choices he wants in life because his future is, for the most part, secure. A woman, on the other hand, has to marry well in order to ensure her future is stable. This is something Mary has known most of her life, and basically defined most of her actions - including her attempt to elope with Geoffrey in the previous novel, that was foiled by her sister Letty. She???s not HAPPY with it of course (she???d much rather have the freedoms of a man than be restricted by marriage), but she knows how society works and how the game is played, and her goal has been to play that game in such a way that she manages to gain some power over herself, instead of constantly being in the power of someone else. There???s also a passing reference to Mary Wollstonecraft - yes, Mary Shelley???s mother, whose work A Vindication on the Rights of Women is considered one of the earliest works of feminist politics and philosophy in the West. Mary observes that she agrees with the ideas put forward by Wollstonecraft and other feminists (though she doesn???t call them that; she calls them bluestockings instead), but doesn???t align with them in public because of the damage it would do to her desirability as a potential bride - plus, they???re not very fashionable. 

Speaking of romance, Eloise and Colin???s romance actually moves forward in this novel! Unlike the last two books where I was only peripherally interested in what was going on with them, in THIS go round they actually go on a date! Other things happen around that date too that I won???t get into because of spoilers, but it???s nice to see them finally moving their relationship into ???officially seeing each other??? territory. I???m sure their romance will continue in the other books, so I???m looking forward to reading about how they get along with each other.

So overall, this was a read that held up to the time since I last read it, at least for the most part. Mary and Vaughn are an intriguing couple who stand in almost direct contrast to the other couples in the previous novels, and they make for a very refreshing read - more along the lines of a Bronte couple than an Austen one, in a way. The only spots of tarnish on the overall shiny package of this book occur in the latter part of the novel. Won???t say much more on that because of spoilers, but: Outlander fans may find something to pique their interest in that regard.

 

Molo delivers on the creepiness a second time! This one starts off weirdly bittersweet, because even though the corpse is definitely spooky, the tender way Kaulap treats his dead wife is kid of sweet. And then the second half of the story happens, and, well??? Can???t say I feel sorry for the soldiers, to be honest, given when this story takes place and who the couple likely. Definitely worth using the QR code to have the song playing while I was reading; it helped make it even spookier. 

Okay, this turned out to be pretty fun, and informative too. It raises some important questions about how to deal with animals when they stray into the realms of humans, and how to do it in a way that allows both entities to get along - especially since only one party can really control what they're doing. There's plenty of anecdotes and stories from people who have to manage the in-between spaces: some from professionals, and some from Roach's own life and the lives of ordinary people. There's an interesting point made about how maybe humanity needs to learn to let Nature have its way in some things, and how maybe we shouldn't be trying to control it so much as learning to just live with it - go around, instead of trying to go through, so to speak.

But...IDK. This didn't feel as compelling or fun as the pevious Roach books I've read? It just might be the subject matter, which CAN get a little dry because it's mostly to do with laws, but... Not sure. Still informative, and still fun in places, just not as much as the other books of hers that I've read.

I remember coming across the announcement for this novella early this year, and knew I HAD to read it, because I???m a fan of things like Event Horizon and Dead Space, where horror intersects with scifi. (Though tbh I had to watch the former in broad daylight with the volume on low, and I haven???t played the latter because it scares me too much. Yes I???m a scaredy-cat why do you ask?)

As it turned out, this novella is more Alien than Event Horizon, which was not what I was hoping for, but it???s still an amazing read regardless! The prose reads very cinematic, and the novella format makes it feel like you???re more watching a fast-faced scifi thriller film than reading a story. I did find myself wishing that there???d been a bit more time devoted to developing some of the other characters, like Jolie and Michiko (especially Michiko, who seems like a total badass), as well as exploring the sociopolitical dynamics of the people onboard the ship, but I understand that there???s just not enough room for that sort of storytelling and development in the novella. If this???d been a novel though...

Regardless, the way the novella developed Jack and especially Watson over the course of the story hit a nice sweet spot for the format: enough that they felt fleshed-out, but without eating up too much of the action and the thrills of the plot???s main events. To be honest I found the circumstances around Watson???s creation and its (their?) relationship with Otto Watson a lot creepier and freakier than all the intruder on the ship, but then again isn???t that usually the case? Unknown intruder, you can kill, but there???s just something entirely terrifying about what goes on in other people???s heads - and how they enact what goes on in there. 

So overall, this was definitely a fun, quick read that made for a good break between the historical romantic fluffiness of my ongoing Pink Carnation reread. I find myself wishing that there???d been more to it, that some aspects of it had been explored a bit more, but that???s mostly just me wanting more of this fabulousness. I hope Ness Brown puts out something longer soon; I like the way they tell a story, and I like the stories they tell. 

So I think it's pretty much confirmed that I'm a fan of Mary Beard's work and will read/watch/devour pretty much anything she puts out. She's got a way of telling a story and talking about complicated stuff without it being too dry, and without sacrificing information (and gets her hits against the patriarchy along the way, which is deffo a bonus). This book is no exception - even though it's definitely a bit on the lighter side in terms of info. That's okay though, since this is really meant to be a companion to the docu series, so you're going to want to watch that and then read this book; they complement each other very well. And if all you got was the (terribly cut) PBS version of the docu, then you're DEFINITELY going to want to get a copy of this book so you can fill in the bits you missed out on.

Not too long ago Book Riot put out a video about how to manage expectations when reading. I admit that, while I try my best to manage my expectations so that I don???t disappoint myself too badly, I actually have a hard time doing so, mostly because I always expect the writer to put out the very best work they possibly can, with the very best audience in mind. This, at least, was what I was taught I was supposed to do while I was in university: write with the best audience in mind, and read as if the writer is writing for just such an audience.

But things can get a little wobbly when trying to define the word ???audience???. That is a very, very broad term, after all, and no writer can ever account for precisely what kinds of people will read his or her books. This is why ???writing for an audience??? is so tricky: that audience can be absolutely anyone, and as writer knows (or ought to know), there???s no pleasing everybody.

This is, perhaps, why I so very rarely read young adult nowadays. Since I am in my early thirties I don???t feel like I???m still part of YA???s target audience, and so I think: these books are not for me. But when I see people my age, or older, reading and enjoying YA, I tend to wonder: am I missing out on something? Could there possibly be YA that I can still enjoy with the same gusto as when I was in my teens and twenties? It???s possible: after all, there have been quite a few times when I???ve picked up YA books and enjoyed them thoroughly; I also still find quite a bit of pleasure reading the YA books I read when I was younger. Perhaps, then, it is not so much that I don???t like all of the current crop of YA, but that I just haven???t found the right books.

It was with those thoughts in mind that I chose to keep an eye out for Will McIntosh???s Burning Midnight, as part of my attempt to at least try and read a little more YA than I did last year (or in the years previous). However, now that I have actually read the book, I am sad to say that it did not quite live up to the expectations I had for it, though it certainly has its good points.

Burning Midnight is set in a world very much like the one we inhabit, with one small difference: the existence of things called ???spheres???, which look like marbles, but, if used together as a pair in a process called ???burning???, can grant the user a whole array of seemingly supernatural powers, ranging from an enhanced sense of smell all the way to accelerated healing, increased physical strength, and a higher IQ. They are scattered all over the world, and can be found practically anywhere anyone thinks to look, though they do tend to be concentrated in places of heavy human habitation. Since humanity found out about spheres and what they can do, an entire economy has been set up around them, with people paying millions of dollars for the rarest spheres, and large corporations funding hunters to find more spheres before they run out completely.

Sully is a part of that economy, albeit only a very small part, buying and selling spheres at a flea market in Yonkers. However, he is running out of time: unless he can make a big score and sell spheres with a higher rarity, he and his mother will be forced to leave their tiny apartment and go elsewhere, and Sully will have to leave all the comforts of his current life (such as they are) behind. But when a young woman named Hunter offers to sell him a rare sphere, he sees an opportunity to turn his life around - except he quickly gets far, far more than he bargained for, as the truth about the spheres finally unravels around him and his friends: a truth that could either destroy the world, or save it.

My experience with this novel has been a sequence of altered expectations: neutral, for the most part, but occasionally disappointing. For instance, when I first heard of this book I was under the impression that it would be a ???Lovecraftian-style??? horror novel. While it does have some elements of Lovecraftian horror, those elements don???t really come into play until towards the very end of the story. Before then, the reader has other material to get through: material that may or many not be of particular interest to them, depending on their preferences and/or their state of mind at the time of reading.

For my part, I think it???s not all that bad. McIntosh tries to explore some deeper themes in the first two-thirds of the novel: the complex relationship between financial status and advantage in life is one of the big ones, because only the wealthy can actually afford the spheres necessary to really improve themselves as they wish. Take this excerpt, for example:

Rob leaned in. ???Have you guys seen Jayla Washburn yet???????Have I seen her???? Sully asked, confused.Rob nodded. ???Her parents got her an early Christmas present. A pair of Cranberries. You???re not going to believe it.???Cranberry. Better-looking. Rarity seven. How did these people afford this stuff? Sully knew you could get twenty-, thirty-year loans from the bank to buy spheres, but he couldn???t believe people actually did that just so their daughter could be prettier.

It???s no secret that being good-looking is an advantage, and just like in our reality, where only the moneyed can afford the various cosmetic procedures necessary to improve their looks, only those with money can afford the spheres they need - or want - to get ahead. The novel, via Sully and Hunter, devotes a rather large chunk of storytelling to showing how spheres have changed the way everything, from education to sports to politics, has changed thanks to the spheres, and what the repercussions are for those who either cannot afford to use the spheres, or simply decide not to for various reasons. That the use of the spheres is always tied to great wealth makes them a useful tool for commenting on how money equals power and advantage, spheres or no spheres.

Also very interesting is the way McIntosh uses Sully and Hunter to tackle other, more sensitive issues, such as poverty, abuse, and privilege:

Sully thumbed through the pages, stopping at random: Mint (more outgoing), Magenta (night vision), Plum (erase memories).???I don???t know why someone would want to burn Plums,??? Sully said to Hunter??? ???Who wants to erase a part of their life, whether it???s good or bad? You couldn???t pay me to erase even my worst memory.???Very slowly, Hunter closed her eyes. ???That???s because you???ve never had something bad happen to you.???Sully laughed. ???Are you kidding me? My father???s an alcoholic. He once kicked me in the ass so hard he lifted me right off the ground. My life was miserable before Mom left him.???As Hunter turned to face him, Sully could see he???d hit a nerve. ???So tell me. Do you wake up screaming from nightmares of your drunken father kicking you in the ass really hard? Do you think about it every day? When you think about it, do you still break out in a sweat and get sick to your stomach after all these years??????? ???You know, you don???t have a monopoly on hard times. My mom just lost her job. ?????????You think that???s something we have in common, don???t you? That we both grew up poor. You???re not poor. You???re just growing up in the crappiest part of a tony suburb. You get three meals a day; you stop in at McDonald???s for french fries on the way to your soccer league.??? ??? ???You have your own room, for God???s sake. You???re not poor. You just feel poor because everyone around you is rich.???

There are other situations similar to the one above, and I find them interesting because of what they are trying to say, of the insight they provide about what it means to be poor, or abused, or mentally ill, as well as the nuances of class and wealth and how those complicate the former.

But that is where my feelings on the matter stop: at interest. I would say ???mere interest??? if it were not for the fact that it is clear how important those scenes are - or at least, important to the reader. I think McIntosh includes them because he thinks these are ideas the reader should learn and think about. Attempting to include and focus on such issues is noteworthy in writers, particularly YA writers, and I think McIntosh writes about them in a relatively sensitive manner. (I cannot confirm if he does a really good job of it, though, as these are issues I am not qualified to talk about.)

However, while the inclusion of such themes is indeed laudable, they are not very well-integrated into the overall fabric of the novel. The scenes seem to float, as if they are part of another story entirely, having very little to do with main action itself. This means they have the terrible tendency of slowing the narrative down in all the wrong places. I suppose it???s a good thing they are put early in the novel, because they would be an even greater hindrance towards the latter end when all the action comes into play, but it does make the book feel rather lopsided: all introspection and development at one end, and all breathless action at the other.

It might be because of this uneven thematic integration that makes the novel feel like it lacks a certain depth. This is the most common problem I currently have with YA: an inability to deal with certain important themes at any great depth, or to make it feel as if these themes are as weighty as I think they should be. While a part of me thinks that this is so because of the genre???s intended audience, I also think that writers should give more credit to said audience???s ability to disentangle, process, and discuss such themes even if they are more deeply-nestled within a story???s fabric. If the depth of meta discussions I???ve encountered in certain fandoms is any indication, teenagers can and will find themes that are of value to them and happily dissect them down to the minutest detail, so writers do not need to present them as baldly as McIntosh does in this novel. What matters more to them - and to myself, as a reader - is that the story is well-written and sufficiently entertaining, while at the same time incorporating any important themes in a way that does not interfere with either characterisation or plot.

Overall, Burning Midnight is something of a mixed-bag. The concept is quite interesting, and McIntosh attempts to tackle some themes related to class, poverty, and abuse, but some readers might notice a certain clunkiness in terms of incorporating those themes into the overall story. Said readers might also notice a certain shallowness overall: a lack of depth in characterisation and plot that they might find off-putting. While this book might be satisfactory, even absolutely enjoyable, for some readers, it is highly likely that other readers will find themselves disappointed with it and may decide to put it aside in favour of other reading.

Nice and fast read, with just enough tension to keep the reader glued to their seat and turning pages. The theme of corporate greed being the reason for the entire mess is also timely and appropriate. Also: sadly true in real life.

In the Philippines, the Christmas season starts early and ends late. The popular saying is that it starts as soon as the “-ber” months come in, meaning it begins in September, and continues from then all the way until January 6, the Feast of the Epiphany or Three Kings' Day. Others like to argue it's technically Christmas until February 14, Valentine's Day. This explains the puzzling phenomenon (to foreigners, anyway) of Christmas songs being played on some local radio stations or on mall sound systems as soon as September 1 rolls in, and why they sometimes continue to play for a few weeks after New Year's. This should come as no surprise: Filipinos have a great affection for the holiday, and many sentimental memories are attached to it, too. This is especially true for overseas workers, who come home during Christmas, and not during any other time of the year, because most other cultures, even the Middle Eastern ones, understand the importance of Christmas as a holiday.

But as for myself, I don't consider it Christmas just because September's arrived. The days are too long still, during September, and I always associate Christmas with shorter days and longer nights. The air isn't quite as cool, either, and Christmas is always about that little nip in the air that sends me towards a tin of tea in search of something warm to drink. Moreover, there's one more important holiday between the first of September and Christmas, and that's Halloween.

I suppose the reason why Halloween, All Saints' Day, and All Souls' Day aren't quite so popular (unlike in Mexico) is because Filipino culture as a whole doesn't like to put too much focus on death. The dead are dead, after all, and while they will never be forgotten, the living are still here, and still around us. But the concept of Halloween - the scary stories, the ghosts and the ghouls and other such things - are appealing to many Filipinos, and there are more than a few of us who do appreciate it if only for that. (Of course, there's a large contingent of Filipinos who view Halloween as a chance for some costumed debauchery, but that's their thing.) And since Komikon 2012 happened the week before the long Halloween weekend, it made perfect sense to pick up something horror-themed in time for the holiday, which meant only one thing: the latest installment in Budjette Tan and KaJo Baldisimo's Trese series.

Now, I've been following this series for a while now, since i was first introduced to them by a colleague at the university. At the time I was neck-deep in Mike Mignola's Hellboy, and to read something similar to it but set in the Philippines was very exciting. That first book got me hooked, and I got the second one as soon as I could, followed by the third and fourth when they came out. Of the four, it was the third book that I felt was the best. The first two were pretty episodic in nature, and while that was acceptable, I was very happy when the third book built itself around a cohesive storyline, one that explored the Trese family's past and laid down the groundwork for a possible future. Volume Four, titled Last Seen After Midnight, was something of a response to that, but it went back to the episodic feel of the first book, which was rather disappointing, to say the least. I had hoped for a cohesive storyline, one that felt more like a novel or a novella, creating one unified story arc that could be continued in the next volume.

That's precisely what I got in Trese Vol. 5: Midnight Tribunal. Ever since Volume Three (Mass Murders) so many questions had been raised - some were about Trese's family and her past; while others were about her future. Volume Four did not quite answer those questions, leaving readers eagerly awaiting the next installment. Fortunately, Midnight Tribunal does answer some of those questions. For instance, it's become clear that, contrary to popular belief, Trese's brothers were not all killed - if any were killed at all - in one of the central events of Mass Murders. Many of them have, instead, gone out into the world in their own way: one is a professor at the University of the Philippines; another is a priest; and yet another moves in and out of the underworld, returning every so often when he gets into too much trouble and needs help from his siblings. There's also a peek into the interactions between the different supernatural entities. It's easy to assume from earlier volumes that the supernatural creatures of Manila tend to keep to themselves, with Trese interceding of them as necessary, but that's apparently not the case, since the Higante (Giants) and Tikbalang clans do come together every so often at the Manila Polo Club for friendly games of football - or sipa, the Philippine version of sepak takraw, since the ball in play looks like the woven balls used for both sports.

It is these two things, along with the fact that the entire volume is one cohesive story arc, that I loved the most about Midnight Tribunal. They help to expand the universe in a way that Last Seen After Midnight didn't, providing insight into Trese's personal life, as well as laying the groundwork for possible future interactions, alliances,and even potential enemies.

But those things, unfortunately, are possibly the only things I found positive about Midnight Tribunal. It's clear to see that the whole thing had potential, that it was a great way to expand the Trese universe and lay the groundwork for something bigger down the line, but there was something lacking in execution.

My first issue is with the narration. There is a lot of “telling, not showing” going on throughout the issue, such as when Trese uses a small plastic bag showing the logo of a very well-known drugstore in this country as a focus to channel healing energies into another important character - something she'd already done in a previous issue, and which had already been explained. Also notable - and rather irritating - were the frequent explanations of the action “onscreen,” as it were, such as when Trese pays a visit to the Manila Polo Club to speak to the Tikbalang and Higante. The art already shows what' going on quite clearly; there's no need for a mysterious narrator to inform the reader what's going on. It doesn't help that sometimes the narrator appears to sound like Trese herself is narrating - which would be okay, if the scenario called for it, but more often than not the art was good enough to do the speaking on its own.

My second issue is with the dialogue: something was off with it, especially when characters were code-switching. Most of the characters speak English, but occasionally a Filipino word will slip in there from time to time - and no, Trese's spell-casting doesn't count. Unfortunately, the code-switching tends to feel very awkward, something made obvious if one reads it aloud to oneself, or can actually “hear” it being read in one's head. This is especially true in one particular conversation between the Kambal, when they're calling each other gago, or stupid (though “stupid” doesn't quite encompass the nuance behind the word gago, truth be told). For some odd reason, the use of gago doesn't ring true through the entirety of the conversation - and the use of “gago-er”, to indicate greater stupidity, made me cringe. I'm not entirely sure if there was a specific reason for this effect; if there was, I'm not quite seeing the point of it (or maybe I am and I'm not sure I like it); if there was no specific reason for that effect, then there's definitely something wrong with the dialogue, and that code-switching needs to be ironed-out. Sometimes it feels like the Filipino words (again, outside of Trese's spell-casting) merely serve a decorative purpose, placed there as a reminder to the reader of where the action is taking place and who these characters are. I'm not opposed to the incorporation of Filipino in a work that's mostly written in English, but I feel there should be a reason for that word to be there - such as when one single word can succinctly describe a concept that would, in English, take an entire paragraph to explain; or which has no equivalent concept in English; or whose nuances are better encompassed by the use of a Filipino word compared to the English equivalent.

My third issue isn't really an issue per se, but simply something that had me raising my eyebrow when it was first put out in the course of the story. For all this time Trese has been single - something that comes as no surprise, given the nature of her job. But in Midnight Tribunal, it's implied that Maliksi, a Tikbalang known from previous volumes, may - or rather does - outright have a crush on her, likely acquired after she busted his chops on illegal street racing some volumes back. While I have nothing against Trese being romantically involved with any other characters, human or otherwise, I just found it odd that this element to the plot should be introduced now. To be fair, it's early days yet in this new, developing storyline introduced in Midnight Tribunal (which includes a possible arch-nemesis for Trese), but I'm not entirely sure. Of course this could just be me, reacting to the way the concept was introduced in this particular volume, with minimal set-up from previous issues. Honestly, if I was asked to talk pairings and ships here I would say that there's far more evidence for Trese being paired up with one of the Kambal, but that's only because I've seen them work and grow together as characters for the last four volumes. Given time, perhaps, Maliksi's interest in Trese will be integrated more smoothly into the storyline in future volumes.

Overall, Trese Vol. 5: Midnight Tribunal, is a so-so addition to the Trese series. It does expand the universe some, and it does add more depth to Trese's personal history, but other issues, mostly pertaining to dialogue and narration may hamper personal enjoyment of the story. If approached with caution, and by a loyal fan, this may prove an enjoyable read, but it's not quite the best in the series so far, either. Hopefully, though, that will change with Volume Six.

This review is based on an ARC given to me for free by the publisher, Angry Robot Books. This does not in any way affect my review. This book is slated for release on June 5, 2018.

... As human populations grow and climate change alters entire ecologies, the demand on various natural resources ??? chocolate among them ??? will steadily climb and reach breaking point. The most frequently mentioned are the impending water wars, but even in the context of chocolate these dangerous changes are already happening; as I have mentioned earlier, the plantations in Ghana and the Ivory Coast are already being investigated for using child labour. Is it coincidence that these same plantations are the ones that supply the biggest candy companies in the West? Perhaps: after all, giant corporations like Hershey???s either do not see ??? or do not care to see ??? the kind of oppression and hardship they create in their wake, the lives that are lost, so long as they profit.

This is why it???s mildly disappointing that this novel doesn???t really go as in-depth into the issues created by HGB. Again, I understand that there will be more in the coming novels, but truth be told, I???d be happy to sacrifice some of the romantic interludes in this novel if it meant that there???d be more focus on those darker threads.

Not so much about the history of ancient Egypt, but the history of how ancient Egypt has been viewed, and used, with a special emphasis on the effects of the Western imperialist gaze on Egyptology, and how the Egyptians themselves perceive and use it - and the tension between those two poles. 

Everyone's got issues in this novella, and that's where the horror lies. Sure, the house is absolutely creepy, but this is the kind of horror story where the real horror lies not in the location or the monster; rather, those are merely reflections of the real horror that is the secrets and things unsaid that the people visiting the haunted place are hiding, both from those around them and from themselves.

 There's also something to be said about watching a barkada fall apart the way it does in this story. Kind of relatable, tbh. 

I???ll admit that the book absolutely sucked me in; that prologue was a REALLY good hook, or at least for me it was. The first-person perspective helps to obscure a lot of what???s going on, forcing the reader to try and piece things together before diving into the the novel???s main plot. As a way to keep the reader intrigued, it was very effectively done. After that it takes a while for the momentum to pick up again, because of the need to set the stage, but once Julia is on the island, things start moving pretty damn fast, in a rollercoaster kind of way that is difficult to predict - mostly by throwing in concepts that come totally out of left field. 
Which is where things become a bit troublesome with this novel. Now, I generally don???t have problems with authors throwing ideas together and stacking them one on top of the other to create a layer cake of concepts, but there???s something a little disjointed about the way the concepts in this novel came together. It???s a little hard to explain without going into spoilers, but: the first layer was already pretty interesting, if a bit of a stretch, but I was willing to suspend my disbelief because I REALLY liked the idea, especially given how it worked with the setup at the start of the novel. But then towards the end of the novel another layer was added that felt like it didn???t have enough decent setup to really work. Like it was tossed in there because the author wanted to up the ante beyond the (already pretty high) current stakes that had initially been laid down. 
Unfortunately, the addition of that extra, disjointed layer didn???t work any wonders for the ending. I don???t expect stories to always have a neat, tidy ending, but even when there???s questions left unanswered those questions need to at least work in context with everything else in the novel. Sadly, that isn???t the case in this book, so the ending feels a bit oddly-shaped, as if there was something tacked onto it that doesn???t belong - which makes sense, given how some concepts were tacked on near the end that didn???t seem to go well with everything else. 
It isn???t all bad though, because what this novel does really well is to portray the setting as a character itself, and a VERY dangerous one at that. It???s easy to look at a rainforest and be caught up in dreams of paradise, but as many Indigenous people know, that beauty hides some very deadly things - and not all of them make their deadliness obvious. Some of the characters are also downright chilling, especially when the reader figures out the reasons behind their actions. And the themes are also pretty interesting: the privileged nature of people from wealthy colonialist countries that makes them think they can profit off the land, resources, and bodies of Indigenous people; the use of religion and science to soften the way for colonial interests; and the tension between logic and faith. 
Overall, this wasn???t half-bad as a read; it was certainly enjoyable while I was reading it. But certain new elements get included in the latter third of the novel that throw everything off, and those elements throw the ending off as well. Up until the reader gets to that point, though, it???s a thoroughly enjoyable, and pretty terrifying, read. 

???That can???t be mango I???m smelling. Mangoes don???t smell like that.???

This was my first reaction after trying on some luxury-brand eau de toilette I???d received as a gift some two years ago. It was a large bottle, too, and I???d been pleasantly surprised to receive it because no one usually gives away anything as expensive as luxury fragrance unless one is very fond of the recipient. But as soon as I tried it on, I realised that the giver was probably eager to foist the monstrosity upon someone else: it was sweet to the point of nauseating, and the little that I???d sprayed on my wrist was clearly entirely too much. I tried washing the scent off, but even after doing so the smell still lingered on my skin.

Not to say that I don???t like the smell of mangoes, because I do. My grandmother owns an orchard, and though most of the fruits are exported to Japan, the ???rejects??? (fruits that are too small, too blemished, or just not up to certain specific standards, but are nevertheless still eminently edible) are sent to her children: my mother and her siblings. They fill the house with a delicious sweetness, thick enough that it almost mimics the custardy texture of the fruit flesh itself, with just a hint of tanginess that registers at the back of one???s throat when one inhales deeply; the smell is never overwhelming, never cloying, even when the mangoes have reached the point of overripeness. I associate the scent with the comforts of home, of family, and the pleasures of summer, which is probably why I really disliked the eau de toilette and its poor attempt to mimic the fragrance of something that lies at the intersection of so many things that are special to me.

It is this intersection, where scent meets and entangles with history (both personal and of the world), art, and philosophy, that Mandy Aftel tackles in Fragrant: The Secret History of Scent.

The book???s structure is a somewhat-familiar one, having read books by Diane Ackerman, Victoria Findlay, and Michael Pollan. Chapter One is an introduction of sorts, talking in a general sort of what about what perfume is, what is does, and what it has come to mean to different people down the course of history. It also deals a little with Aftel???s life as a perfumer: what led her there, and what she does now. The next five chapters are more specific, and focus on one particular ingredient used in perfumery, and a theme: Chapter Two focuses on cinnamon, and the idea of adventure and the exotic; Chapter Three deals with mint, and is the thematic opposite of Chapter Two, focusing as it does on the concept of home and the familiar; Chapter Four is about frankincense and the idea of transcendence; Chapter Five is about ambergris and the concept of curiosity; and finally, Chapter Six focuses on jasmine and the idea of beauty. At the end of every chapter Aftel includes a few recipes, focusing on the ingredient tackled in the chapter: most are for perfumery-related things, like body oils and solid perfume, but there are also a few food recipes in there, showing the versatility of the ingredients discussed in the chapter. The book concludes with copious notes, an extensive bibliography, and a list of sources should one ever feel inclined to try making perfumes for oneself.

If anyone is going to talk about fragrance and the special relationship humanity has had with scent and the art of perfumery, then Mandy Aftel is certainly one of the best. She is an artisanal perfumer based in Berkeley, California, where she not only makes perfumes, but conducts classes on how to make them. She also collaborates with chefs to understand how fragrance and food can work together to create a unique dining and olfactory experience. She???s written other books before, but those books have been somewhat more specialised, focusing primarily on perfumery and food. Fragrant, however, is considered to be a very fine introductory book for the beginning perfumer or just the curious looking for something interesting to read.

And I must say, that???s rather true. Though reading Patrick Suskind???s novel Perfume and seeing the movie adaptation of the same made me interested in the idea of perfumery as a whole, I was completely aware that what I was reading, and watching, was fiction. Suskind obviously took the time to do research, but his work was still fictional and probably not completely accurate to how perfumery is done in the contemporary world. Fragrant, then, looked like???and turned out to be???a good gateway into understanding how perfumery is done by people like Aftel, who take the small-batch, artisanal approach espoused by the slow food/locavore movement that is one of the most powerful driving philosophies in the food world today.

That philosophy is present in Fragrant. It???s especially prominent when she???s talking about her work as a perfumer, and in the recipes she includes at the end of every chapter, but it???s there, in the background, in the chapter-length essays for each individual ingredient. The slow food/locavore movement firmly believes that every ingredient has a story, and understanding that story is key to giving an ingredient its proper value, and, therefore, to treating it as it deserves to be treated. When Aftel tells the heartbreaking story of the cinnamon gatherers in Sri Lanka under Dutch colonial rule, or even the rather whimsical Chinese legend of ambergris being solidified sea-dragon drool, she is trying to impart to the reader a belief that these ingredients, though some have become more commonplace, are actually far more valuable than one imagines???and should be treated appropriately and with the proper respect for their origins and the people behind them.

Interwoven with this philosophy are other musings; as noted earlier, each chapter has a specific concept attached to the ingredient being discussed, and Aftel expounds upon that concept, quoting from a very wide variety of sources, from obscure medieval monks to Coco Chanel, to reinforce her ideas as well as to offer different viewpoints. While this is quite interesting, and something I personally find enjoyable, I do find that it made some chapters weaker than others, since my interest in a specific chapter was dependent mostly upon my interest in the theme in question. A certain imbalance among the chapters is also noticeable: for instance, the chapter on jasmine focuses a lot more on beauty and aesthetics, while the chapter on cinnamon focuses a lot more on history. I found myself wishing that there had been more of a balance in the topics covered in each chapter, just so that one can truly understand how all the topics work together to tell the story of the ingredient and how it connects to the theme of the chapter.

Fortunately, Aftel frequently includes her own anecdotes about her work as a perfumer, because I think that the book wouldn???t be quite as firm without them. It???s all well and good to discuss these intriguing philosophical questions, but without some binding thread the book would fall apart. That???s where the whole perfumery idea comes in, and where Aftel???s experience as a perfumer comes into play. If she had not included that aspect, the book would feel very loose and disjointed, something to merely flip through as one pleases, instead of something to really spend time with and delve into.

It???s also rather clear that Aftel???s writing really comes to life when she???s talking about perfume, or her work, or her life a perfumer. The book as a whole has a relatively unified tone, but where her writing stands out the most is when she???s talking about what she loves most???which is not, necessarily, history or economics or science. There is nothing wrong with this, of course, just something I noted while reading the book, because I realised that I always took a touch longer to get through a portion of text if Aftel was talking about some aspect of her work, or was telling a personal anecdote.

Overall, Fragrant: The Secret Life of Scent is an engaging read: it sucked me in the way any good book, fiction or otherwise, ought to, and held me there for its entirety. It???s not without some weak spots, however: there???s a lack of cohesiveness in some of the individual chapters, and none of those chapters really go in-depth into the ingredient itself, focusing instead on the theme that Aftel has associated with each one and discussing history and philosophy as necessary to emphasise her point. However, this tendency towards lightness is what makes this book such a good introduction to the craft of perfumery, and the recipes at the end of each chapter are sure to encourage more than a few readers to give making their own scents a shot. Fortunately, Aftel provides a list of sources at the end of the book, so that readers can find the tools and ingredients they need if they feel inspired enough to give perfumery a try.

... embedded in that interplay between the truth as Krona knows it and the truth behind Charbon???s motives as told by the man himself, is the question: if the world works a certain way, but that way is unjust, then is this how the world is supposed to be? One can live by rules and guidelines the whole of one???s life, accepting them as not only true, but correct, because that is all one has ever known. But what does one do if those long-held beliefs are revealed to be unjust? What does one do when one finds evidence that ???the way things are??? is in fact oppressive and harmful? It also asks: if one wishes to change the world, what???s the right way to go about it?  

Full review here: https://wp.me/p21txV-KP

Oh, this was good. I wasn???t sure what I was going into when I picked it up, but I???m glad I went along for the ride. 
So this is a classic murder mystery novel: a skeleton is washed out from underneath a post office in the wake of a violent flood, and the protagonist sets about figuring out who the skeleton used to be in life, and why they were buried under the post office. But that???s just the frame around which the other, more interesting aspects of this novel hang. 
Because what this novel is really about is about the life of the townsfolk of Santa Chionia, and how their lives are caught up in the tangled webs of corruption, neglect, and injustice that emerge from the political and sociocultural landscape of that particular time and place in Calabria. These darker elements are juxtaposed against the sheer, breathtaking beauty of the Aspromonte landscape - beautiful, but harsh, as that same landscape drives the residents of towns like Santa Chionia to live difficult, impoverished lives. That harsh life has created an amazingly tight-knit community and some beautiful traditions, all of which are described wonderfully in the novel, but it also breeds some very dark shadows. 
It is those shadows that Francesca Loftfield, the protagonist and narrator, run into as she attempts to open a nursery school under the auspices of the charity she works for. She tries to stay away from the case of the skeleton, but is unable to do so, and quickly finds herself tangled up in a web of crime, murder, and other sordid doings in the seemingly quiet town of Santa Chionia. Not that she knows anything about this of course - at least, not right away, as her naivete and unfamiliarity with the local culture mean that she???s either unable or unwilling to pick up on certain cues. She???s also flawed and troubled in her own way, taking action based on her emotions more often than a ???proper??? detective probably ought, but I think this just makes her more interesting to read about, as a character.  Another interesting thing about Francesca is how she represents a certain brand of activism that???s rather common among the wealthy, particularly those with a largely Westernized education and/or upbringing. They think that, with their ???superior??? education and moral standing, they can sweep into a community, assume they know what the community ???needs???, and then provide those needs without thinking about how the changes they enact will affect the community. This is the kind of ???top down??? activism that stinks of (white, but not always) saviorism, of the kind that generally does not go over well in the affected communities and tends to result in any positive efforts either being halted or not getting off the ground at all. 
Francesca is, unfortunately, cut from that cloth: she comes into Santa Chionia thinking that all she needs to do focus on opening the school and getting it set up. She also assumes that her outsider status will protect her from the politics of the town. She tries to stay away, but she is unable to - partly because she???s curious, partly because of her own personal troubles, and also partly because she is, down at her core, a good person who wants to help. That last aspect is of course laudable in anyone, but the way Francesca goes about helping others chafes against the very community she is trying to help. We all know what the road to hell is paved with, and Francesca is out there laying the paving stones herself. 
As for the aforementioned shadows haunting Santa Chionia, they are both depressingly familiar and current. Despite the novel being set in a rural Calabrese town in the 1960s, so many of the town???s concerns are familiar to me, a twenty-first century person from the Philippines. For instance: the deep mistrust the community has for the police and the government? That???s familiar, as is the deep-seated corruption that permeates both local and national politics. The willingness of a powerful few to take advantage of anyone with less power than they, as well as the willingness to ensure the powerless remain powerless? Entirely familiar. The way the national government neglects to support rural areas, especially in the wake of war and natural disaster? Familiar too. And the way the women are treated? The misogyny might not be as strong in the 2020s as it was in the 1960s, but it???s still there, and permeates the atmosphere of my life as a woman in a largely Catholic country. All of these things are dark and depressing, and an excellent antidote to the more anodyne portrayals of the Italian countryside seen in other books and media, which paint a more romantic view of the country???s rural areas. 
As for the mystery that forms the novel???s plot, it really isn???t all that extraordinary; in fact, I don???t think the mystery is really the ???point??? of the novel so much as it is the frame, as I mentioned earlier, upon which everything else I just mentioned hangs. Veteran readers of mysteries will likely easily identify, or at least guess, who the actual suspects are, but those suspects are merely representations of the real evils that are the source of Santa Chionia???s troubles: corruption, greed, and misogyny. 
Overall, this was a very intriguing read. Though it presents itself as a mystery novel, it???s not really about solving the mystery so much as using that mystery to show the troubles - and the joys - of living in these small mountain towns in Calabria in the 1960s. The prose brings the town of Santa Chionia to vivid life, in all its light, its shadows, and the shades in between, and giving the reader a chance to experience a place and way of life that is slowly disappearing, even just for the span of this novel, is probably this book???s greatest strength. 

Getting back into the groove of reading and reviewing books this 2020 isn't all that easy, given what happened in the past year, but I was determined to give it a shot. In line with that, a close friend of mine suggested I give Sisters of the Vast Black a shot, on the notion that a novella might be a bit easier to manage than an entire novel.

And, as always, said friend's recommendation proved a lovely way to ease back into the swing of things. While the setting itself is fantastic, what really stands out about this story is its theme of doing what is right - which may not always be what the government or one's own religion say one must do. It's a reminder that doing what's right isn't always easy, nor is it the purview of a religion: something more people could stand to learn and remember, especially in these times.