Review: See What I Have Done by Sarah Schmidt

I freely admit that I picked up See What I Have Done simply because it's beautiful. I was browsing in Waterstones and just doesn't resist the embossed grey cover and the neon orange pages. I even put it down a few times and tried to walk away, but I just couldn't follow through. Luckily, I ended up enjoying the story almost as much as the aesthetics (even though I spent an unreasonable amount of my reading time stroking the cover).

Plot summary: When her father and step-mother are found brutally murdered on a summer morning in 1892, Lizzie Borden - thirty two years old and still living at home - immediately becomes a suspect. But after a notorious trial, she is found innocent, and no one is ever convicted of the crime.

Meanwhile, others in the claustrophobic Borden household have their own motives and their own stories to tell: Lizzie's unmarried older sister, a put-upon Irish housemaid, and a boy hired by Lizzie's uncle to take care of a problem.

This unforgettable debut makes you question the truth behind one of the great unsolved mysteries, as well as exploring power, violence and the harsh realities of being a woman in late nineteenth century America.

I knew parts of the Lizzie Borden story - I knew that her parents had been murdered and that it was publically accepted that 'she done it,' but somehow it couldn't be proved in Court and she was subsequently acquitted. Turns out I was wrong about some of the most fundamental parts, however - it occurred in Boston, not London as I had thought, and she was a full-grown adult. Maybe it was just because she features in a skipping rhyme, but I thought I knew she was a child when it happened. This was king of jarring, to be honest, but my lack of knowledge is hardly the author's fault.

See What I Have Done is primarily a story about the people surrounding the death of Mr and Mrs Borden, not the facts of the case. The narrative of the chapters alternate between Lizzie, her sister, their maid and their uncle's colleague (weirdly) as they discuss the events of the fateful day and shortly afterwards. There wasn't a great deal of distinction between the four as their voices sound eerily similar, with the exception of the heavy implication that Lizzie has some sort of mental illness. Still, they were all very readable and the function of all four characters was evident.

I'm slightly confused about the inclusion of their Uncle's friend, Benjamin, however. I've done a bit of googling and I can't work out if he was a real person, or if he was just included to provide an alternative theory as to the murders. I know it's a very character-driven piece of fiction, but I can't quite see the benefit of completely fabricating a person who became heavily involved in the plot of the novel. It may be that I've just missed him in my 'research' (although it's a bit of a stretch to call it that) but even if so, some parts of the story could never be verified.

With that in mind, I'd imagine it's only very loosely based on actual events. The author states in her Afterword that 'the case didn't interest me in the slightest,' but she became interested in the people after Lizzie had come to her in a dream. As you may have guessed, it's a very... floaty Afterward.

I enjoyed reading this book, although even now I'd be hard pressed to tell you even now what the evidence was, who the suspects were and why Lizzie wasn't convicted. The story ends immediately after the funeral and before the Police investigation really starts, and then there's a quick epilogue ten years or so later. There's no discussion of it at all and it's odd that even the characters barely wonder in their narratives who murdered Mr and Mrs Borden.

As I said, the characters were interesting and it's well-written enough. Lizzie herself was crafted remarkably well, particularly with regard to her twinges of instablity. There's only a hint of it, but it's there. It's just bizarre that a book about Lizzie Borden doesn't discuss who murdered her parents. There's a heavy implication throughout that she was responsible, but this is mostly based on her mental state and not factual evidence, and the novel doesn't actually reach a conclusion. The different factors aren't tied together very well at all and it's very vague about what could have happened. It's even difficult to piece together a chronology as the narratives of the characters doesn't always match up with regard to timings - they jump around a little and it's quite jarring.  

See What I Have Done is an interesting idea and it definitely captivated my attention. It also corrected the erroenous information I had about Lizzie Borden's age and the geographical location. However, I finished the book a little unfulfilled. I just don't understand the point of writing a book that feels unfinished. Why discuss Lizzie Borden and not theorise who the murderer was!?

You can stay in Lizzie Borden's house! Is this not the best thing ever!?  

Review: The Godfather by Mario Puzo

Let me start out by saying that I actually didn't want to read this in the slightest little bit. It was offered to me by my secretary at work, who I actually really like, and my super brilliant social skills kicked in and I panicked and said 'Yes please!' That's right, I read it out of obligation. Do I have any regrets? No, I do not. The Godfather is, to my absolute surprise, actually very good. It's a classic for a reason.

Plot summary: Almost fifty years ago, a classic was born. A searing portrayal of the Mafia underworld, The Godfather introduced readers to the first family of American crime fiction, the Corleones, and their powerful legacy of tradition, blood, and honor. The seduction of power, the pitfalls of greed, and the allegiance to family—these are the themes that have resonated with millions of readers around the world and made The Godfather the definitive novel of the violent subculture that, steeped in intrigue and controversy, remains indelibly etched in our collective consciousness.

The only previous experience I had with The Godfather was when a boyfriend sat me down to watch the three hour movie... of which I promptly slept through at least two and a half hours. Ever since then I've used the movie as an example of one of those massively over-rated pop culture tripes, that everybody (especially men, in this case) feels compelled to say they like but nobody actually does. I couldn't follow who the characters were, there didn't seem to be much of a plot and, to be honest, I couldn't understand a damn word they were saying.

I haven't rewatched the film since reading the book, so I can't comment on it fairly. I barely remember it (sleeping through the majority of a film will do that to you) but I've read that it sticks very close to the book. With that in mind, it may just be that I find it easier to follow fiction in print than on the screen. There has to be a reason for it, because I ended up liking The Godfather book an awful lot more than I did the film.

It still took me twenty to thirty pages to work out who was who, but in a 600 page book that's hardly the end of the world. It seemed quite heavy going at this point - it was mostly explanatory prose with some dialogue thrown in - and I still wasn't sure if I was going to like it. There are a lot of characterS in The Godfather and it does take some time to get to know them all.

That's the thing about this book though. For all its reputation and controversy, there's not all that much action. There's some, obviously, and I'll get back to that later, but it's more about the Family ties, the atmosphere and the dialogue. For that to work, you do need to know a little of their background, so I can forgive it for being a little slow to start.

I'm not sure at which point I realised I was enjoying this book. It's quite slow-paced, but I was engrossed before I really knew it. I liked the tone of it, I think. It's very dark - whenever I think of it, I picture it hidden in the shadows somehow. There are some amazing twists and turns that I didn't see coming and made me literally gasp out loud.

It is brutal, in parts, but it's more that the decisions and plans made are brutal rather than the actual violence itself. It's a lengthy, notorious novel about the Mafia so obviously there is some violence but it's no more graphic than what you'd see in an everyday thriller (and less graphic than some).

However, The Godfather isN'T perfect. The thing that irritated me the most is Mario Puzo's apparent need to explain what a character means when they've finished speaking. As an example:

*Somebody speaks*

'What was important was that Barzini by speaking out was saying that...'

This happens a lot and it's profoundly irritating. I know what the inference was from his speach, I read the damn thing. I don't need to have a translator bobbing along next to me. God. It's otherwise written to a reasonable standard, which made this particular issue stand out all the more. 'What Kay Adams meant by this was...' ARRGGHHH.

Secondly, the author's view towards women. I know, I know. 1960s Italian-American mobsters. I know. But it goes further than that. Minor spoilers, but only for the minorest of sub-plots:

Highlight to read.

Okay, so there's this woman who won't sleep with a particular Doctor for months. She eventually does, and then cries, and then the Doctor says, "Oh, it's because you have a giant vagina! Women have killed themselves because of that before. I'll pay someone to fix it and then I'll test out the results!" And then she says, "Oh, thank you for still being willing to have sex with me!" to which he replies "No, no. We'll have to have anal instead." So she cried and thanks him even more.

It gets worse. She goes for the surgery and they detail it explicitly. A whole page is dedicated to how to surgery is performed - 

'Kellner was working on the diaohragm sling, the T forceps held the vaginal flap, and exposing the ani muscle and the fasci which formed its sheath. His gauze-covered fingers were pushing aside loose connective tissue.'

A whole page. It's just weird and unnecessary. But seriously, WHY IS THIS HERE!?

I can deal with the whole 'women deserve to be beaten if they don't behave properly.' I don't like it and I certainly don't condone it, but it was somewhat to be expected in a book like this. The above section is unnecessary, crude and incredibly offensive. The whole thing (her reaction included) bothered me to such an extent that I had to put the book down for a day.

If I discount that scene, I did really enjoy The Godfather. There are a few other bits that didn't really make sense for them to be there at all and that scene bothers me a lot, but we're talking four pages out of a 600 page book. I loved the slow pace and the atmosphere of The Godfather. The twists take you completely by surprise because I felt as though I knew every character completely, and genuinely felt a little lurch in my stomach as I realised what was happening. I don't think I'll read the next book, The Sicilian, as it follows somebody completely different, but I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed The Godfather and I will be looking for my own copy soon.

Read Laura's review of The Godfather at Devouring Texts.

 

 

Review: Curtain: Poirot's Last Case by Agatha Christie

It's rare that I bother to post a review of an Agatha Christie book. They're sort of like the Discworld books in that I like them all and they all have the same quirks. Plus, if I'm honest, they all tend to blend together. Curtain though... Curtain needs talking about because I just can't get it out of my head.

Plot summary: The crime-fighting careers of Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings have come full circle - they are back once again in the rambling county house in which they solved their first murder together.

Both Poirot and Great Styles have seen better days - but despite being crippled with arthritis, there is nothing wrong with the great detective's 'little grey cells.' However, when Poirot brands one of the seemingly harmless guests a five-times murderer, some people have their doubts. But Poirot alone knows he must prevent a sixth murder before the curtain falls...

On the face of it, this is a fairly straighforward Agatha Christie novel. There's a big country house, a murder and lots of guests of varying genders, ages, professions and potential motives. The 'twist' with this one is that Poirot's knocking on a bit in years. He's confined to a wheelchair because of his arthritis so he has to use Captain Hastings as his eyes and ears... much to his evident (and fully justified) frustration. More on Captain Hopeless later.

Turning to the actual plot, this is possibly the cleverest Agatha Christie novel I have read, with the exception of perhaps And Then There Were None. It's certainly the cleverest in the Poirot series. I think what made it stand out for me was how sinister it is. It's very, very dark, much more so than any of the others. It's possibly why it's stuck in my head more than a  week later. I keep thinking about it and shuddering a little. 

The ending is... unexpected. I ran round asking everybody I knew, 'Does Poirot die?'  before I even dared to pick it up. The answer is almost irrelevant -  it's so much more than that. I also liked that this book, the last of the series, takes place at the same manor house that features in the first book, The Mysterious Affair at Styles. It's a perfect end to the 84 novels, stories and plays featuring the little Belgian detective. 

I'm not sure this book would have the same impact if you didn't have a few of the previous novels under your belt so that you really understand Poirot's character. It is quite depressing that that he's is old and poorly but I felt better when I realised his mental faculties were completely unimpaired, and that he retained his inherent cheerfulness (and lack of faith in Captain Hastings).

Speaking of. I've ranted about Captain Hastings on several occasions before, but he really takes the cake with this one. Look. You have been a sidekick to this detective for three decades, during which time Poirot has never once, NOT ONCE, been wrong. This means that you could probably stop from questioning his sanity, experience and sense every single time he implies he might have reached a conclusion. His age is immaterial. SHUT UP.

It's just that he seems even sulkier in Curtain. His best friend is stuck in a wheelchair, has suffered multiple heart attacks and can't run around solving the murder he desperately wants to... and you're going to sit there and give him the cold shoulder because he won't tell you who he suspects in case they murder you next. How unreasonable. I haaaate you.

Curain is genuinely amazing. I'm not sure I'll read it again in a hurry, partly because I don't think it would have the same impact if you already knew what was coming, but also because I'm not quite ready to be this traumatised again in the near future.
 
Read my review of Death on the Nile, my favourite Hercule Poirot novel.  

Review: The Collector by John Fowles

I would never have read this if it wasn't for Charlotte, although I say that about a lot of books. Usually in a good way, but every so often I like to poke her about the misery of Hope: A Tragedy. Thanks Charlotte.

She's headed a little closer to forgiveness with The Collector though. I knew very little going in, but I ended up with a dark and twisted novel that I absolutely couldn't put down.

Plot summary: Withdrawn, uneducated and unloved, Frederick collects butterflies and takes photographs. He is obsessed with a beautiful stranger, the art student Miranda. When he wins the pools he buys a remote Sussex house and calmly abducts Miranda, believing she will grow to love him in time. Alone and desperate, Miranda must struggle to overcome her own prejudices and contempt if she is understand her captor, and so gain her freedom.

I really, really loved this book. The first half is told from the perspective of Frederick, who is an avid butterfly collector. He loves having beautiful specimens that he can admire in his own home whenever he chooses. It's told in a sort of stream of consciousness way, but not too obnoxiously. I didn't quite realise until a good portion of the way into the book, so it doesn't halt the flow of the narrative in the slightest.

Frederick is so perfectly described. I feel like he could jump out of the page and judge me from a distance. I didn't hate him, but then I'm not entirely sure you're meant to. Some of his views and mannerisms annoy me, but those are aspects of his general personality, not his kidnappery ways. It's a sign of the truly amazing characterisation.

And Miranda. I loathed her. She didn't seem like a real person at all, but then I suspect that, again, that's sort of the point. She's a twenty year old art student who's incredibly concerned with the impression she makes and looking down on everybody that doesn't understand art the way she does. Her diary, then, is possibly her just writing as the person she's trying to be, which is therefore why it doesn't always seem overly genuine?

And partly, too, it's been a sort of indulging in wicked vanity about myself. Knowing I am a rather special person. Knowing I am intelligent, knowing that I am beginning to understand life much better than most people of my age. Even knowing that I shall never be so stupid as to be vain about it, but be grateful, be terribly glad to be alive, to be who I am - Miranda, and unique.

Ugh. Her perspective is interesting though, to see her view on the events already described by Frederick. The only flaw in the book at all is that her descriptions of her life before do tend to go on a bit too long. She has a complicated relationship with an older artist and she's studying at the Slade... it's frankly just not as interesting as the fact that SHE'S BEEN ABDUCTED, FOR GOD'S SAKE. 

He is solid; immovable, iron-willed. He showed me one day his killing bottle. I'm imprisoned in it. Fluttering against the glass. Because I can see through it I still think I can escape. I have hope. But it's all an illusion. A thick round wall of glass.

I wasn't sure about the ending, but it's been going round and round in my head since I finished reading and I don't think it could have ended any other way. It just fit the theme perfectly. Speaking of, the theme of 'collection' is hinted at throughout the book, but in an oh-so-subtle way and it's very clever. The final paragraphs are appropriate and haunting, and I LOVE THIS BOOK. 

Read Charlotte's review of The Collector at Lit Addicted Brit.

Review: The Dinner by Herman Koch

As previously promised, this is the second installment of 'That Month Where Hanna Could Only Read Her Birthday Books.' Not that I'm complaining though, as I've had a 100% success rating so far. Bex bought me The Dinner after hearing about the 72 times I dithered over it whilst book shopping, and it turns out that I should have just bought the damn thing in the first place. It's amazing.

Plot summary: A summer's evening in Amsterdam and two couples meet at a fashionable restaurant. Between mouthfuls of food and over the delicate scraping of cutlery, the conversation remains a gentle hum of politeness - the banality of work, the triviality of holidays. But the empty words hide a terrible conflict and, with every forced smile and every new course, the knives are being sharpened...

As the dinner reaches its culinary climax, the conversation finally touches on their children and, as civility and friendship disintegrate, each couple shows just how far they are prepared to go to protect those they love.

The entire novel takes place over one meal at a fancy restaurant. Paul and his wife are soon joined by Paul's brother, a high-ranking politician, and his wife, Babette. It starts out trivially enough but eventually it's revealed that there's a purpose for that a meal; an issue relating to their children that needs to be discussed. Slowly, with the aid of flashbacks, more is revealed about what the teenagers have done and which adult knows which part.  

It's done very, very well. It's fast-paced; incredibly so when you consider that hardly anything actually happens - it's all in the past. I absolutely couldn't put it down as I needed to know how the meal was going to end as we slowly progressed through the many courses with the two couples.

It's not for the squeamish. Don't read it if you can't deal with violence. It's not just that there is a lot of explicitly-described gore but even the language and tone are somehow aggressive. It's very cleverly done and I'm sure the translator deserves some credit there as well.

The Dinner also raises some interesting moral issues - how far would you go to protect your children? At what point do your actions stop being for their benefit? How much does a children's upbringing affect their mental state? Unfortunately for Paul, these questions are incredibly clear-cut.

I'm struggling to think of a negative for The Dinner. The main character is incredibly irritating, but it's more of a plot point than a failure of the writing. The other characters are also quite flat and two-dimensional, but again - plot point. It's a very short book so there's not much more I can say without beginning to give away spoilers, but I really do recommend reading it. Just perhaps not in the queue for a Sarah J. Maas book signing, like I did.

What did you think of The Dinner? 

Review: They Do It With Mirrors by Agatha Christie

I love Agatha Christie books - they're the perfect comfort read. Accessible and light, but with just enough twists to keep you guessing. I usually much prefer Poirot to Miss Marple, as he's just somehow cooler, the latter is just occasionally worth keeping an eye on.

A man is shot at in a juvenile reform home – but someone else dies…
Miss Marple senses danger when she visits a friend living in a Victorian mansion which doubles as a rehabilitiation centre for delinquents. Her fears are confirmed when a youth fires a revolver at the administrator, Lewis Serrocold. Neither is injured. But a mysterious visitor, Mr Gilbrandsen, is less fortunate – shot dead simultaneously in another part of the building. Pure coincidence? Miss Marple thinks not, and vows to discover the real reason for Mr Gilbrandsen’s visit.

All the plot summaries for all the Agatha Christie's books sound the same, which isn't really appropriate. I mean, fair enough, they often have similar components and the tense atmosphere is generally present but each book is very unique. The setting is different and the ingenious denouement has never been replicated in a different book that I know of. I've said it before, but once again- even if you've read one of her books and didn't like it, try another. They're just so different to each other.

Anyway. Usually I dislike Miss Marple for just ambling around asking everybody personal questions which, for some reason, they answer. I don't understand this. We live in England. People don't spill out their innermost feelings to people they haven't known for 25 years, much less to an interfering old lady who sits next to them on a bench. Well, they do to Miss Marple and then she does nothing but nod along while an Inspector later solves the crime, going "Ah yes, yes, I knew that." Argh.

I bring this up because actually this book isn't like that, for a change. Miss Marple doesn't have a whole lot to do with solving the crime (not that she ever does) but at least she doesn't get in the way either. I do respect that she never does what every other fictional amateur detective does and decides not to inform the police for some unfathomable reason. Instead she's all "Oh hello, Mr Policeman. This is what I know..." I wish they'd all take a lesson from her!

Thinking about it, there's no reason They Do It With Mirrors actually needs Miss Marple - the entire plot could continue without more or less. Huh. That's interesting. There are actually scenes where she's not present, which doesn't make sense. Usually these books follow the detective but instead we see scenes where the detective is interviewing the other witnesses. It works just fine but it makes me wonder if this was always intended to be a Miss Marple book. 

For me, the most important thing about the book was... I GUESSED THE ENDING. This isn't particularly a thing in itself, other than that this never happens. I can't remember the endings of the books I have read and I'm notoriously terrible at predicting even low-budget romantic comedies, so for this to happen pretty much thrilled me. That's not to say that the ending was predictable or week - it wasn't. It's still just as clever as the all the other novels, but clearly this one was on my wavelength!

To conclude, They Do It With Mirrors was full of pleasant surprises - firstly that I guessed the ending but also because Miss Marple was a much more likeable character than she is normally. If you're looking for a place to start but haven't taken to Hercule Poirot, this would be a good place to start.

Read my review of And Then There Were None, my favourite Agatha Christie!

 

Review: Death on the Nile by Agatha Christie

I think that Death on the Nile is my second favourite Agatha Christie novel, next to And Then There Were None which I've also read recently. This book features Hercule Poirot, however; the charming little Belgian detective with his famous moustache. I do like him best of all the 'regular' investigators, so I am rather partial to this particular series.

Plot summary: The tranquillity of a cruise along the Nile is shattered by the discovery that Linnet Ridgeway has been shot through the head. She was young, stylish and beautiful, a girl who had everything – until she lost her life.
Hercule Poirot recalls an earlier outburst by a fellow passenger: ‘I’d like to put my dear little pistol against her head and just press the trigger.’ Yet in this exotic setting nothing is ever quite what it seems…

After my And Then There Were None review, I talked to quite a few of my readers who said that they'd read an Agatha Christie novel once and not really liked it. Normally I'd shrug my shoulders and say 'fair enough,' but you just can't do that with Agatha Christie. Her books are so different and there are so many of them, that disliking one is no guarantee that you'll hate them all, and vice versa. Take Passenger to Frankfurt - I could barely bring myself to finish it, but I still like an awful lot of her other books.

So. Death on the Nile is unsurprisingly set in Egypt, for the most part on board a cruise ship heading down the Nile. Linnet Ridgeway, a rich young newlywed is shot in her bed one night, and you don't need Poirot to work out that it was somebody on board the ship. The question is, quite obviously, whodunnit?

There's a whole host of characters to choose from, each with their own potential motive for killing Linnet. There are secrets, confessions, confusions, red herrings and pretty much everything you could ever want from a vintage murder mystery.
In addition, there's a wonderful atmosphere to this book. There's a tension as everybody has a different idea about who the murderer is, but they're all trapped on a ship among the mysterious ancient artifacts. 

I also like that Poirot's companion on this voyage is Colonel Race instead of Captain Hastings. The latter is a little annoying, constantly mumbling to himself that Poirot has finally lost his mind and doesn't know what he's talking about despite many books where he has not and does, respectively. Colonel Race is much more respectful and competant in his own right, although he refers to Poirot's judgement when necessary.

Reading Death on the Nile made for an interesting experiment actually. When I read And Then There Were None, I'd forgotten who the culprit was and so it was like reading it again for the first time, with all the surprises and twists read for me. I began this book the same way, but after a chapter or two it all came rushing back and I remembered everything. Oddly enough, it gave me a different type of satisfaction - I got to sit there all smug and victorious while the characters made lots of silly accusations I knew were wrong. Clearly it works just fine to read these books when you know the ending!

Speaking of which, the ending itself is suitably climactic. It makes sense but I'd never have figured it out on my own. That's why we have Poirot, I suppose! I love when a denouement of a mystery novel is actually clever - you've been on a journey along with the innocent characters and it's thrilling to all learn the true answer together.

In short, Death on the Nile is second only to And Then There Were None, and that is high praise indeed. Regardless of whether you've read Agatha Christie before and didn't like it much, try again - and this book is a great place to start.

Read my reviews of Sparkling Cyanide or The Body in the Library.

Review: Orange is the New Black: My Time in a Women's Prison by Piper Kerman

Before I even start writing this review, let me just mention here that my day-job very heavily revolves around this area. I rehabilitate those released from prison who may need assistance with relearning how to function in society. I don't think it's affected this review but I'm not usually one for keeping my opinions to myself...

Plot summary: With her career, live-in boyfriend and loving family, Piper Kerman barely resembles the rebellious young woman who got mixed up with drug runners and delivered a suitcase of drug money to Europe over a decade ago. But when she least expects it, her reckless past catches up with her; convicted and sentenced to fifteen months at an infamous women's prison in Connecticut, Piper becomes inmate #11187-424. From her first strip search to her final release, she learns to navigate this strange world with its arbitrary rules and codes, its unpredictable, even dangerous relationships. She meets women from all walks of life, who surprise her with tokens of generosity, hard truths and simple acts of acceptance.

This isn't fiction, as I know many people have been led to believe. Instead it's the true story of a middle-class, middle-aged white woman who was sent to a women's prison for an offence she had committed ten years previously. Piper is American and therefore goes through the U.S. Criminal Justice System - it would be interesting to hear a similar story from a British woman, although that's slightly off-topic.

The theme of the book seems to be 'hey, look how petty and badly organised prison is.' She's given underwear that isn't clean, the prison store is out of handheld radios and has to cobble together quesadillas in the dormitory microwave because she doesn't like the canteen food. The thing is, for me she missed the mark because she actually made it sound kind of... fun and I'm 100% positive that wasn't her plan.

I did feel for Piper in the beginning. She was so bewildered at what was happening to her and why it was taking so long to go through the system, but then that bewilderment seemed to persist throughout her entire stay. She has a constant air of mild confusion about how she could possibly be in prison but then tries so damn hard to not say it, bless her. It's like she wants a sticker for being a Trooper. Thing is... you know, she did break the law. Without going into the morality of her crime and the concept of proportionate sentencing, it doesn't seem overly unreasonable that she went to prison for a crime she knowingly and willingly committed.

At least Piper says this herself. There's just something there that stops me from quite believing her. She doesn't actually annoy me (which is odd), but it did prevent me from taking Orange is the New Black seriously. I just wanted to pat her on the head - of course you think prison is unfair and badly organised. You were in it. You're not meant to like it. 

I do respect her a little for mentioning how much luckier she was than some of the other inmates. She received books from the outside, had visitors every weekend and was generally treated better by the guards for being white and respectable (she believes). She at least acknowledges that her time there wasn't as bad as it could have been and there were many others in much worse situations. 

I had only the most tenuous idea of what might happen next, but I knew that I would have to be brave. Not foolhardy, not in love with risk and danger, not making ridiculous exhibitions of myself to prove that I wasn't terrified - really, genuinely brave. Brave enough to be quiet when quiet was called for, brave enough to observe before flinging myself into something, brave enough to not abandon my true self when someone else wanted to seduce or force me in a direction I didn't want to go, brave enough to stand my ground quietly. I waited an unquantifiable amount of time while trying to be brave.

However, I do object to the final chapter. It's set out as a factual analysis of everything that's wrong with the prison system, but it's actually just a rant. She believes the system doesn't work and that's absolutely fair enough, but she needs to explain why in an objective manner. She doesn't explain why the prison system is badly run and ineffective, just kind of bleats that it is. This is a light-hearted memoir that has produced an equally light-hearted TV series - you can't shove a monologue at the end and expect to change the world. 

The ending itself is kind of anti-climactic. The story doesn't go past her stepping out of the prison gates, when I wanted to know more about her reentering society and her relationship. She spent a lot of time discussing whether prison gives inmates the skills they need to find employment or just successfully function as a free person, but then doesn't explain her own experiences. It may just be because Piper had a short sentence and an excellent support system (a friend had a job already lined up for her) but it still could have been interesting.

I think this review might come across as negative when actually I did enjoy Orange is the New Black. Piper is a little uppity and preachy, but it's bearable. It's an enjoyable and accessible memoir about a minimum security women's prison; just take her social commentary with a pinch of salt.

Read other reviews of Orange is the New Black at Devouring Texts and Curiosity Killed the Bookworm.

Review: And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

And Then There Were None is my ultimate favourite Agatha Christie book and has been for years. I first read my Grandma's copy when I was very young (although it was published under a very different and non-politically correct title) and I've been addicted to it ever since. I don't read it that often because I like to give myself time to forget 'who dunnit,' but when I do it's instantly comforting.

Plot summary: Ten strangers, apparently with little in common, are lured to an island mansion off the coast of Devon by the mysterious U.N.Owen. Over dinner, a record begins to play, and the voice of an unseen host accuses each person of hiding a guilty secret. That evening, former reckless driver Tony Marston is found murdered by a deadly dose of cyanide.
The tension escalates as the survivors realise the killer is not only among them but is preparing to strike again… and again. 

There's not a lot else I can add to that synopsis without giving things away. Ten people arrive on an island, all lured there under different false pretenses, and one gentlemen is murdered that very evening. On the desk are ten little soldier figurines, but eventually the remaining guests notice that only nine soldiers remain... Dum dum dum.

It just works. I've read a lot of Agatha Christie novels and while most of them are quite clever, this one really takes the cake.  There's no Hercule Poirot or Jane Marple in And Then There Were None - only the guests and the murderer. There's a wonderful atmosphere of suspicion and tension as the arrow of blame swings from one guest to another as they don't have any more idea than the reader... and it shows.

I had absolutely no idea who the culprit could be although their motivation becomes clear fairly early on. It would be interesting to have a dicussion about the morality of each murder as it plays a fairly heavy role in the plot. Societal views have altered since 1939 and I'm not sure I agree with some of the conclusions reached in the book. I'm aware how vague that is, but it will make sense if you've read it. It didn't affect my enjoyment of the book in the slightest little bit, but it would make for an interesting book club conversation.

My usual (only) complaint about Agatha Christie books is that I can't keep all the characters straight. There's always a Lady Woofington, a Colonel Bobcat, a Mrs Froggle, and so on and eventually their personalities all mesh into one and you can't remember who's married to who and which neice is due to inherit the vast fortune (or whatever). For some reason though, I really didn't have a problem with And Then There Were None. The characters are the fairly generic vintage mystery staples but somehow they all seem more real here, perhaps because less effort has gone into padding out the star detective.

There's not a huge amount that I can say about this book that I haven't said before about other Agatha Christie mystery novels, but if you only ever pick up one of them, make sure it's this one. It's my absolute favourite and I can almost guarantee you won't see the ending coming.

Read Charlotte's review of And Then There Were None at Lit Addicted Brit.

Review: The Secret History by Donna Tartt

Sometimes you buy a book based on an interesting synopsis or even a beautiful cover; a recommendation from a friend maybe. Then again, every so often a book crops up that you know absolutely nothing about but you read it anyway just because it's within easy reach of your oh-so-lazy self. The Secret History was just such a book. Charlotte recommended it to me, but only in passing and in the vaguest of ways. The blurb tells you absolutely nothing and the cover is hardly descriptive. And yet this modern classic ended up being one of the best written and enigmatic books I've read this year.

Plot summary: Under the influence of their charismatic classics professor, a group of clever, eccentric misfits at an elite New England college discover a way of thinking and living that is a world away from the humdrum existence of their contemporaries. But when they go beyond the boundaries of normal morality their lives are changed profoundly and forever.

Hardly specific. Yet I do think that's an asset for The Secret History. With some books you need to begin with an understanding of the general direction of the story, but here I loved just settling back for the journey. I didn't know what The Point was, the tone or even what genre it was going to end up (and that's still under dispute), but that meant every development and twist was a complete and absolute surprise.

The prologue threw me a little in that respect. I suppose I was expecting something very academic and perhaps relationship-related, and the very dramatic and adventure-type-novel tone of the prologue threw me a little. In all honesty I nearly didn't continue with the book at all. However, I've stated time and time again that the first thing I'll do as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom is to completely outlaw both epilogues and prologues alike, and I think that my point in that respect is proved with The Secret History.

The book itself is certainly not even remotely adventure-ish. It has quite a slow plot with not a great deal of action, but you feel the twists in the plot like a punch to the stomach. The story is built up ever-so-slowly with a lot of discussion about classic philosophers and morality that occasionally went over my head. It's not to a book to pick up when you're sleepy as it would be almost impossible to follow.

I listened, a bit affronted by his tone. To do what he asked was tantamount to my transferring entirely out of Hampden College into his own little academy of ancient Greek, student body five, six including me. 'All my classes with you?' I said.
'Not quite all of them,' he said seriously, and then laughed when he saw the look on my face. 'I believe that having a great diversity of teachers is harmful and confusing for a young mind, in the same way I believe that it is better to know one book intimately than a hundred superficially,' he said. 'I know the modern world tends not to agree with me, but after all, Plato had only one teacher, and Alexander.' 

Don't let that put you off though. The tension and the atmosphere is almost tangible, and without doubt the best thing about this novel. I put down the book and still felt the pressure to keep hold of all the dark secrets I'd been told in confidence through reading. It's a masterpiece of storytelling, it really is.   

The various relationships, secrets, plots and betrayals loosely demonstrate the Greek tragedies which are, after all, the theme of the book. It's not something I picked up upon until I sat down afterwards to consider exactly why The Secret History works so well, but I eventually clicked onto the way it shadows the very concept under discussion. It's actually kind of perfect.

The characters aren't exactly likeable; in fact, they're the very opposite. Then again, the Greek heroes were hardly the epitome of charm and goodness. Except when they transformed into swans and raped women, obviously. It adds to the story to a certain extent though. It adds a certain distance between the characters and the reader, much as though you were studying their actions in an academic context. 

All in all, I love the formal but clever tone and the aura of darkness that surrounds the story. There are lots of twists and secret revelations, but it's the stunning prose that really makes The Secret History what it is. It does require you to take your time while reading it, but I promise you that it's worth every second.

Read a much more eloquent review at The Lit Addicted Brit.

Review: Joyland by Stephen King

I think the entire world must know how much I adored Stephen King's 11.22.63  - I raved about that book for weeks, and still will if people give me half a chance. It's hardly surprising then, that I jumped at the chance to read Joyland when Titan Books offered me a copy to review. It's released on June 7th over here in the UK, so pick up a copy if you're looking for a great crime novel with a creepy twist.

Plot summary: College student Devin Jones took the summer job at Joyland hoping to forget the girl who broke his heart. But he wound up facing something far more terrible: the legacy of a vicious murder, the fate of a dying child, and dark truths about life - and what comes after - that would change his life forever.

A riveting story about love and loss, about growing up and growing old - and about those who don't get to do either because death comes for them before their time - JOYLAND is Stephen King at the peak of his storytelling powers.

While I've only read two of Stephen King's books previously (I'm not sure if this makes me more qualified to review this one, or less), I'm obviously aware of his reputation for horror and general creepiness. 11.22.63 certainly fits within this description, amazing though it was. Joyland, however, is definitely more of a crime book, although perhaps I should have gathered that earlier from the silhouette of a gun on the spine and the word 'CRIME' in big letters. Hey ho.

This isn't a criticism; far from it. I like a good crime story as much as the next person. I'm just stating that I have almost no idea if this is new territory for Stephen King or not. There are occasional references to ghosts and psychic powers, but these are secondary to the basic whodunnit.

The tone and style are just as perfect as 11.22.63. It has an almost semi-formal style - not chatty or colloquial, and yet wonderfully accessible. I was completely engrossed in the prose, despite not really finding the plot anything special. The author has a gift for atmosphere and description, possibly something to do with the sheer amount of detail. He's clearly gone out of his way to research the carnival world, as evidenced by the casual semi-bibliography at the back. I could easily imagine myself to physically be at Joyland with Devin and Erin.

Speaking of Devin... Stephen King's characters always seem so real somehow. Perhaps it's because this is written in the first person, but Devin Jones may as well have been a living, breathing person to me. I could have done without his recent heartbreak woes (several times I contemplated sliding Joyland to one side and picking up a book on sparkly unicorns instead), but that's more due my own recent self-pitying episodes than a fault in the actual writing. *mopes*

The ending itself wasn't all that great. Due to the general crime theme, I was expecting some shock revelation... and didn't really get one. It was more of an "Oh." moment than an "OH!" one. There was a huge build-up and there was clearly an attempt at a climax, but it fell a little flat for me. I wasn't bothered about who the murderer was really, and when we found out it seemed fairly mundane.

Joyland is worth reading just for the atmosphere and the setting. Stephen King is a supremely talented author (although that's not news to any of us) and his prose is genuinely amazing. However, this does seem to be a little flat - possibly due to the less-than-impressive ending. Do buy this and devour it like I did though, as that's just a minor flaw in a very entertaining (if not particularly surprising) crime novel.

Read my reviews of 11.22.63 or The Gunslinger!

Review: Raffles: The Amateur Cracksman by E.W. Hornung

Excuse the generic book cover image - a decent, even moderately-acceptable-looking one does not exist. Not in real life, not on the Internet. It's a semi-famous book of stories written by Arthur Conan Doyle's brother-in-law, for God's sake! Why the hell can't I buy a decent copy!?

Plot summary: Gentlemen thief Raffles is daring, debonair, devilishly handsome - and a first-class cricketer. In these eight stories the master burglar indulges his passion for cricket and crime: thieving jewels from a country house, outwitting the law, stealing from the nouveaux riches and, of course, bowling like a demon - all with the assistance of his plucky sidekick Bunny.

I particularly like the dedication in this book - 'To A.C.D. This Form of Flattery.'

These stories were, after all, created from a suggestion of Arthur Conan Doyle himself and imitation Sherlock Holmes almost perfectly. The resemblance is uncanny - the language, the tone, the characters... it really does seem like an anti-Sherlock. Raffles and Bunny are villains after all; the loveable kind, but villains nevertheless.

I actually have Encounters of Sherlock Holmes to thank for this. I wasn't actually all that fond of it, but one story features a cross-over of the two sets of characters (which I'm sure has been done over and over, but was the first I'd seen) and I knew enough to recognise that Raffles was a literary character in his own right, but that was about the extent of it. I looked him up, downloaded a copy of the first book (this one) on my Kindle and here we are.

Like with any collection of short stories, some are better than others. They seem a lot more chronological than the Sherlock Holmes stories - each new tale starts pretty much directly after the latter. If there's a gap, apparently it's because they haven't been doing anything in the meantime. I think I like this approach better, although I know it's just short of sacrilege to say so!

They're not overly clever in themselves, but that's okay. There's no dazzling works of deduction or amazing heists, so I'm not sure it would have worked as a fully drawn-out series. Still though, Hornung clearly knew this himself as there are only... three, I think, of these collections. They're more than a novelty, but not quite a literary masterpiece.

I also like how The Amateur Cracksman begins right at the start of Raffles and Bunny's relationship. We see them work their first job together and get used to each other, instead of jumping straight into the middle.

I know I've been comparing this to Sherlock Holmes incessantly, but it's important to remember that it isn't actually trying to be similar. It's not a spin-off; Raffles isn't Holmes' long-lost cousin or anything like that. No references are made. A similarity in tone and atmosphere comes simply from the era in which they were both written and the similar genres. 

SPOILERS
However, the last story is appalling and I actually sat there with my mouth open, staring at my Kindle. The prose is just fine, but the plot is cobbled together with characters springing up for no reason, and, and.... Holmes would never do that to Watson! Not impressed. It was completely illogical and just kind of wrong, to be honest. 
FIN

Concluding story aside, I actually really liked Raffles: The Amateur Cracksman. It's similar enough to Sherlock Holmes to be interesting, but different enough to make it a breath of fresh air. It's not quite up to the Conan Doyle standard, but it's definitely worth a read regardless.

Read my review of Encounters of Sherlock Holmes.

Review: The Scent of Death by Andrew Taylor

It must be said that the realm of historical murder fiction is not one I usually delve into, but The Scent of Death, set around the American War of Independence, caught my eye. However, to lump it under such labels would be an injustice to Andrew Taylor's writing. As I had expected either a history lesson with an ill-placed fiction plot or another tedious murder mystery with a bit of history to add a spin, I was surprised to find a wonderful story with a wealth of character and imagination. To explain, rather than a straight murder mystery The Scent of Death is a wonderful story of characters, murder and history not ofen found so well-written in one book.

Plot summary: Edward Savill, a London clerk from the American Department, is assigned to New York to investigate the claims of dispossessed loyalists caught on the wrong side of the American War of Independence.

Surrounded by its enemies, British Manhattan is a melting pot of soldiers, profiteers, double agents and a swelling tide of refugees seeking justice from the Crown. Savill lodges with the respected Wintour family: the old Judge, his ailing wife and their enigmatic daughter-in-law Arabella. The family lives in limbo, praying for the safe return of Jack Wintour, Arabella's husband, who is missing behind rebel lines.
 
The discovery of a body in the notorious slums of Canvas Town thrusts Savill into a murder inquiry. But in the escalating violence of a desperate city, why does one death matter? Because the secret this killing hides could be the key to power for whoever uncovers it…

The story is planned and structured brilliantly. I know that’s not something usually praised in a book, but the mix of character sub-plots, historical events and murder flow beautifully. I never felt like I was reading too much of one theme but instead felt drawn into the world of New York in 1778 and the life of Edward Savill. The aristocratic parties, the conduct of a gentleman and the impending war on the door step; these elements are so well done that they are a story within themselves. That’s not to say the murder mystery side is left wanting however; it is in fact where I feel the strength of the structure shines.

The all important breadcrumbs of clues that lead us to the conclusion never felt like too much or too little. A poorly written mystery has you running around telling anyone who’ll listen that you’ve worked out the end so that when the ’Ha! I told you that was it!’ proclamation comes, it has confirmation (whether they cared or not). Equally there are other books done so badly that the only mystery is where the missing fifty pages of build-up and explanation are. The Scent of Death happily hits the middle ground, where you’ll find some events happen as you had expected whilst others surprise you.

I’ve glanced at a few other reviews and found some that question its length and pace. However, this isn’t a Da Vinci Code race through the streets to catch the murderer. It’s a lived-in book; the point isn't to solve the mystery but to enjoy the characters and to experience in a light and uncondescending way a glimpse into 18^th Century America as it finds independence and the toll that it takes on society.

I really was impressed by The Scent of Death, both for its story and its writing. It really feels like a book written by an author at his prime. The characters, the mystery, the structure, the prose... they all work together so wonderfully that you can't put it down even at 2am. I just had to finish it! Now don’t get me wrong- it isn’t Crime and Punishment but it's more than just another Da Vinci Code type book. Even if its not your usual read or it never has been, pick up The Scent of Death this year... I’m glad I did.

Visit Andrew Taylor's blog here.