Review: The Coming of the Fairies by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Yes, that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The one who created the most logical and rational investigator of all time. He believed in fairies, didn't you know? No, seriously. I touched on this briefly in my review of The Secret Life of Harry Houdini, but the gist is that Sir ACD was an ardent Spiritualist and devoted a large portion of his later years to promoting and trying to find evidence for the popular new religion. Then he wrote a book about fairies and here we are.

Summary: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930), best known as the author of Sherlock Holmes stories but also a devout Spiritualist, was entirely convinced by a set of photographs apparently showing two young girls from Cottingley in Yorkshire playing with a group of tiny, translucent fairies. To demonstrate his unshakeable belief in the spirit world, he published The Coming of the Fairies in 1922. Doyle's book lays out the story of the photographs, their supposed provenance, and the implications of their existence. This quirky and fascinating book allows us to get inside the mind of an intelligent, highly respected man who happened to believe in fairies.

This may seem like an odd choice of book for me. I'm not all that found of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle thanks to what I read in the Houdini book mentioned above (they were friends and later, bitter rivals, if you wondered why he'd be relevant), I've professed several times to my dislike of fairies and especially to my dislike of the Cottingley Fairies, considering I can actually see those woods if I lean out of my window and I'm therefore heartily sick of that story. 


So why would I read this? Aside from some kind of fascination of the awful, it's just... interesting. I wanted to know how such a well-respected logical man completely failed to see that those fairies were cut out off a picture book and stuck onto hat pins. This book is from his own hand and I really did want to peer inside his head a little.

It was also partly for amusement value, I have to admit. I wanted to have a bit of a chuckle at ACD's expense - not particularly benevolent of me, but there you go. After a while, however, his belief does start to make a strange kind of sense. If fairies proof can be found that fairies exist, then the other things he believed in (like his wife being able to communicate with his deceased son) might be real as well. He'd based his reputation on Pheneas, his spirit guide, and investigating the fairies may well have shown that he was right all along.

In the introduction, John M. Lynch states that:

It is unfair to force Doyle to wear the mantle of his creation, the ultra-rationalist Holmes.   

That's true, actually. If I wrote a book about a character who believed in fairies, you wouldn't automatically assume that I did too, would you? Logically, the opposite shouldn't be true either. I think the point is that Sir ACD proved in his writing that he was capable of thinking logically, and yet chose not to when it came to the real world. That's the part I have trouble understanding.

So, the book itself. It's short but quite repetetive. To give it some credit, it attempts to produce scientific explanation as to why most people can't see fairies and spirits:

We see objects within the limits which make up our colour spectrum, with infinite vibrations, unused by us, on either side of them. If we could conceive a race of beings which were construed in material which threw out shorter or longer vibrations, they would be invisible unless we could tune ourselves up or tone them down...
If the objects are indeed there, and if the inventive power of the human brain is turned upon the problem, it is likely that some sort of psychic spectacles, inconceivable to us at the moment, will be invented, and that we shall all be able to adapt ourselves to the new conditions. 

Those parts are quite interesting but then the book also evidences Sir ACD's whole trail of documents - This person sent me THIS letter and then I wrote THIS letter to another person...' and quotes the usually quite lengthy letter in full. To be fair to Sir ACD, he does also include the letters from those who haven't come round to his point of view. As they tend to be very much alike, this gets quite tedious.  There are some moments of pure snarkiness which are quite amusing, but on the whole it's a little bit dry.

The Coming of the Fairies is basically a play-by-play of ACD's whole investigation, although I use that term loosely. It can be quite difficult to keep all the different people straight when there are so many letters flying back and forth.

I don't know if you've ever seen the photographs in question, but they're obviously, painfully not fairies. I don't think you need the scientific knowledge we have now to see that. May Bowley wrote to Sir ACD and suggested that:

The whiteness of the fairies may be due to their lack of shadow, which may also explain their somewhat artificial-looking flatness.

Umm, no. They look artificial and flat because... they're artifical and flat. This book even actively considers whether they could be paper cut-outs... and then decides that they definitely couldn't be. Argh. It just shows how desperately people wanted to believe, I suppose.  I actually feel quite sad that they turned out to be fake photographs - wouldn't it be amazing if they were real?

In the end, Sir ACD considers the existence of fairies to be definitively proved - although I think he may need to reconsider his definition of proof. A soldier stating that he saw the fairies too doesn't class as evidence just because he happens to be in the army!

My opinions towards Sir Arthur Conan Doyle have changed thanks to The Coming of the Fairies. Previously I wanted to hit him with The Book of Logic, but now I just kind of want to hug him. He wasn't very objective and refused to believe anything that didn't fit in with him own ideas, but he had his reasons, I suppose. He's just hard to take seriously - he talks about referring to his spirit guide for answers! I respect him for including the oppostion's arguments in this book - he's nothing if not thorough.

The book itself is a little dry. It's full of repetetive correspondance and it trails off a little towards the end, but there are some interesting 'scientific' arguments in and amongst. I would recommend reading this, but perhaps get it from the library instead.

I actually feel quite close-minded now. I mean, I'm not saying I believe in them, but who am I to say that they don't exist?

Read my review of The Secret Life of Harry Houdini, in which Sir Arthur Conan Doyle features heavily.

Review: The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

If you hear a tiny cheer coming from a corner of the blogosphere, don't worry, it's just Charlotte. She's been trying to get one of us (any one will do) to read this ever since she adored it back in April 2013.... wow, April? That's scary. Anyway, she eventually bought me a copy as part of a Ninja Book Swap as apparently I wasn't moving fast enough on my own. However, I now agree with Charlotte wholeheartedly - everybody should read this book.

Plot summary: Greece in the age of heroes. Patroclus, an awkward young prince, has been exiled to the court of King Peleus and his perfect son Achilles. Despite their differences, Achilles befriends the shamed prince, and as they grow into young men skilled in the arts of war and medicine, their bond blossoms into something deeper - despite the displeasure of Achilles's mother Thetis, a cruel sea goddess. But when word comes that Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped, Achilles must go to war in distant Troy and fulfill his destiny. Torn between love and fear for his friend, Patroclus goes with him, little knowing that the years that follow will test everything they hold dear.

Mild spoilers if you don't know the outcome of the Trojan War. Which you should.

I actually had no idea what this was about before I picked it up, not even that it involved the Seige of Troy. I have no excuse for this, considering the book is called The Song of ACHILLES. If pressed, I think I would have guessed that the book was a new story about a descendant of Achilles, his namesake or an imitation. 

Anyway, I would have been wrong because this is about That Achilles. In a way, it's probably a good thing I hadn't realised, as it would only have delayed my reading it. It's not that I don't find the Trojan War interesting, but it has been done an awful lot - I've read Troy by Adele Geras, The War at Troy by Lindsay Clarke and of course I've seen the Eric Bana movie. I didn't have much desire to read the same story again just yet.

Except The Song of Achilles is different, so different. Instead of being a boring recitation of dates, places and characters, this book focuses almost exclusively on Achilles and his lover as people, not historical/mythological figures. The war goes on in the background, almost - it's happening and it's still explained thoroughly, but mostly in the context of their relationship.  

To put the difference in context, I have never rooted for the Achaens/Spartans before. Usually I hope fiercely that just this once, the city of Troy will remain unsacked. Inevitably, it never does and I feel sad for all the people who lost their home, children who were murdered and women who were raped. I always want Helen and Paris to be happy together and the invaders to just go home.

Well, I still wanted that this time round but suddenly I care an awful lot more about the Greeks. I have never been even remotely bothered about this side before, but I caught myself wishing that they'd hurry up and invade so that Achilles and Patroclus would be safe.

It's told in the first person which allows the atmosphere and tension to just seep from the page. There's a huge contrast between the peaceful scenes with Chiron at the lake to the drama in the midst of battle. It's as if Madeline Miller sat there and observed the whole thing, scrawling notes on a anachronistic pad of paper - I felt every emotion as if I were present.

I wasn't sure how the first person narrative was going to work all the way through to the end, but it's clever and beautiful and amazing... and I cried on a train. Like, actual tears dripping down my face. I'd love to post quotes but they'd ruin everything.

I don't think this review has actually helped much as I'd have achieved much the same thing by posting a picture of myself with a pathetic expression and a wad of tissue. If you take one thing away from this though, let it be that The Song of Achilles is far more than a dusty retelling of the Trojan War - it's a beautiful and realistic story about a demi-god and a human, and their everlasting love.

This book was:

• The Most Surprising Book of 2014
• The Most Beautifully Written Book of 2014 

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

Review: Blue Bloods (Blue Bloods series #1) by Melissa de la Cruz

I read this series back in 2010; I loved it, but had to stop reading after the fourth book because, well, the rest hadn't been written yet. Since 2013 seems to be the Year of Rereading and I desperately wanted a comfort book, it seemed like a good idea to return to the world of Schulyer Van Alen. I then finished this book and immediately ran out (literally, the same day) to purchase all the installments I was missing, just so I could sit here and completely engross myself.

Plot summary: Within New York's City's most elite familieis, there lurks a secret society of celebrated Americans whose ancestors sailed on the Mayflower. They are the powerful and the wealthy—and in fact, they are not human. They are the Blue Bloods, an ancient group of vampires. 

Schuyler Van Alen has never fit in at Duchesne, her prestigious New York City private school. She prefers baggy, vintage clothes instead of the Prada and pearls worn by her classmates, and she lives with her reclusive grandmother in a dilapidated mansion. Schuyler is a loner—and happy that way. 

But when she turns fifteen, Schuyler’s life changes dramatically. She has a mosaic of blue veins on her arms, and craves raw meat. The death of a popular girl from Duchesne is surrounded by a mystery that haunts her. And strangest off all, Jack Force, the most popular boy in school, is showing a sudden interest in her. 

Schuyler wants to find out the secrets the Blue Bloods are keeping. But is she herself in danger? 

I love these books. I would happily sit here and devour them day after day until I'd read every single one of them (which I pretty much ended up doing). It's possible to completely lose yourself in the world of the Blue Bloods, as Melissa de la Cruz has painted such a brilliant depiction of their society. It's actually almost believable. The glamour and eliteness of Duchesne seeps from the page to the point where I can still see it in my head, days later.

The author has a real talent for world-building. There's just something about these books that make them stay with you. The plot itself is cleverer than first meets the eye as it works on three levels: a) young, snooty vampires facing a myserious danger; b) their passage throughout time as various historical characters; and c) the fascinating mythological aspects.

It works so, so well. Interspersed with the story are letters from the travellers on The Mayflower in the 1620s. These provide a little bit of something extra and it's interesting how the story keeps linking back to the actual history of Roanoke, the 'lost settlement.' It's not an age I know a great deal about, but it was still a nice addition to an already unique story.

So that's great. Unfortunately there is a pretty big flaw with Blue Bloods, and there isn't any getting around it. Just keep in mind that I adore these books regardless.

They're written horrendously. I've read these before, not that long ago, and I didn't notice then so I'm assuming the prose and dialogue get better in later books. In this one though... yeah, it's not good. Like, the story suddenly halts so that you can be told in detail what everybody is wearing, or a character will ask a rhetorical question, and then the narrative feels the need to point out that the character just asked a rhetorical question. People really obviously mumble things under their breath in a non-subtle plot point - "Oh yes. Mmm... Should be starting around now... Strange that there's no... Mmm." You know, like Hagrid in the first Harry Potter film?

The funny this is, I'm usually the first person to slam down a book in disgust due to bad writing. But here, the plot and atmosphere are so amazing that I can actually get past it. This is rare for me, but I can't emphasise enough how these books are definitely worth putting up with a little bit of clunkiness for a while.

So yeah, you've probably got the idea by now, but read these books. Even if you don't like vampires, or you don't like YA or you're morally against... I don't know, pearls, or something. The Blue Bloods series is so full of atmosphere and uniqueness that there really is something in them for everybody.

Visit Melissa de la Cruz's website, or find her on Twitter.

Review: The Brides of Rollrock Island by Margo Lanagan

Random House were nice enough to send me a copy of The Brides of Rollrock Island for my reading pleasure. I'd read Tender Morsels, also by Margo Lanagan, a year or so ago and loved it, so I just had to get my hands on her latest book. She's won four World Fantasy Awards for her works already, and I doubt this book will be any exception. The sheer beauty of it should earn it some recognition at least.

Plot summary - Rollrock Island is a lonely rock of gulls and waves, blunt fishermen and their homely wives. Life is hard for the families who must wring a poor living from the stormy seas. But Rollrock is also a place of magic - the scary, salty-real sort of magic that changes lives forever. Down on the windswept beach, where the seals lie in herds, the outcast sea witch Misskaella casts her spells - and brings forth girls from the sea - girls with long, pale limbs and faces of haunting innocence and loveliness - the most enchantingly lovely girls the fishermen of Rollrock have ever seen.

But magic always has its price. A fisherman may have and hold a sea bride, and tell himself that he is her master. But from his first look into those wide, questioning, liquid eyes, he will be just as transformed as she is. He will be equally ensnared. And in the end the witch will always have her payment.

While not completely knowledgeable about selkies, is is a myth I've always been interested in. For those that don't know, selkies are the Scottish legends about seals that shed their skin to become beautiful women. If you hide their skin, they cannot return to the water and must stay on land until they can reclaim it. Although Margo Lanagan never mentions the word selkies, it's clear that this is what the women in The Brides of Rollrock Island are based upon.

For me, it wasn't the selkie-wives themselves that captured my attention - it was the effect that this selfish scheme had on the island itself. As soon as Able Marten convinces the witch to bring him a seal for a wife, every warm-blooded male on Rollrock wants one for himself - even the ones who have wives already. Eventually the human women are all replaced and leave for the mainland as they realise they can never compete with the lovely women that come from the sea. Soon there are no human females left and mainlanders are warned to never set foot on Rollrock. It changes the island completely and it's fascinating to watch.

It's told from multiple perspectives, so you can see the dilemma from all sides. This switches over five or six times, from the sea-witch herself to the son of one of the seal-maidens. I'm not normally a fan of multi-perspective stories, but it really does works in this book. It tends to change over just as you start to feel comfortable with a character, but you've forgotten your irritation within a few pages and you get drawn into the new character's thoughts.

The timeline also changes as the narrative moves back and forth - another thing that I usually don't like, but only adds to the flow in this case. It spans multiple generations, but it's never difficult to work out where you are in the story or who the person talking actually is.

It's just beautiful. From the sea-maidens' transformation right down to their homesickness, everything is tasteful, wonderful and never feels at all silly. It's definitely a young adult book and I couldn't ever really forget that, but it's a wonderful story.

Apparently The Brides of Rollrock Island was originally part of an Australian short story collection called Sea Hearts. Honestly, if I'd have read that before picking up the book, I might have stayed away - short stories are usually nowhere near as effective when turned into a novel. I have to say though, this works very well. It's more of a collection of inter-related stories than a novel, but it's a fascinating look at the selkie myth.

Visit Margo Lanagan's website here, or find her on Twitter.

The Natural History of Unicorns by Chris Lavers

I'm still amazed that my local library has this - what an obscure little book for them to carry. Even more amazing, no-one else has borrowed it since last April! Why wouldn't you want to read a scientific analysis of unicorns!?

From Amazon - 'An object of fascination for at least the last 2,000 years, the unicorn was first described in 398 B.C. by the Greek Ctesias as with a horn that protected men from epilepsy and poison. Ctesias became a source for Aristotle and Pliny, who shaped European beliefs for 1500 years. Unicorns are incorporated into Bible translations and the Physiologus bestiary (in its time, almost as big as the Bible), and one-horned creatures have even been found drawn on the walls of African caves. Laver's tongue-in-cheek delivery maintains its charm throughout while turning up a good bit of knowledge about natural history and how it's been artfully embellished by those recording it.'

It's exactly what it says on the tin - a close study of the natural history of unicorns. That's natural history, people.  A huge part of the book is given over to the real-life animals that might have been mistaken for unicorns over the years (rhinos, okapi, chiru, etc.), the explorers that first saw them and how these would differ biologically from an actual unicorn. It does get rather repetitive after a while, as I noticed after roughly the third time Mr. Lavers mentioned the oddly-shaped feet of a rhinoceros.

I do think it would have interested me more if it had a section on unicorns in popular culture, for example, or possibly discussed the ancient stories a little more. But hey, that's not the point of the book. There are massive sections on how unicorns came to be in the Bible, complete with quotes and lengthy spiritual conclusions, which is interesting but again very repetitive. 

My favourite chapter dealt with the Pagan lore on the method of catching a unicorn (complete with young virgins and a lot of men with pointy sticks) was slowly integrated with the Christian religious tales to result in the version featured in our fairy tale books today.

Taking the book for what it is, however, it's a very interesting and accessible read. Mr. Laver's dry humour neatly breaks up the long quotes and religious anecdotes by providing wry observations about the multitude of explorers that have searched in vain for the unicorn. It's rare that a non-fiction book can make me laugh out loud, but this one definitely did (you get some strange looks giggling over a unicorn book in the staff room of a male-dominated GAME shop, I tell you...).

The author's clear attention for detail is astonishing. He frequently discusses the opinions of other historians and scientists and then examines their credibility and other work. The quotes he chooses are usually very apt and nicely back up his points without being overly scholarly. The lengthy bibliography alone pays tribute to the tremendous amount of effort gone into this book!

A review I saw in a newspaper stated that the book was spoilt by the author's personal criticisms of Western Civilisation and religion, but I don't see it and to be honest, I was looking for it. On the contrary, I thought that the topics of Christianity, Islam and capitalism were dealt with objectively and maturely and to this day, I have no knowledge of Mr Laver's opinions on anything other than unicorns.

On the whole, I really enjoyed this 'micro-history,' although I'd have preferred a little less science and a little more lore. I loved the author's wit and his vast knowledge of unicorns, and I've learnt a huge amount from such a little book.

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars