Tag Archives: historical fiction

The Sandalwood Tree by Elle Newmark

The Sandalwood Tree by Elle Newmark: It’s 1947, and Evie’s marriage has been failing ever since her husband returned from World War II, shellshocked and haunted. He wins a grant to document the end of the British Raj in India, so he takes his wife and young son to live in the small village of Masoorla. Behind a loose brick in the kitchen, Evie discovers letters between two young women written in the 1850s. Intrigued and perhaps more than a little in need of distraction, she searches out more information about the correspondents and what happened to them. The interwoven tales at the beginning and end of the British Raj fascinated me, as did the candid descriptions of life in colonial India. I loved most of the characters, and while at times the story was just heartbreaking, I had trouble putting it down. I had to know what happened to Adela and Felicity, whether Evie would leave, if Martin would be killed in an uprising. The ending was perhaps a little too tidy, but it was very sweet and satisfying nonetheless. I closed the book with a smile on my face, glad to have read it. That’s really all I can ask for in a novel.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

The Red Tent by Anita Diamant

The Red Tent by Anita Diamant (unabridged audiobook read by Carol Bilger; 12 hrs on 10 CDs): Most people know the story of Joseph and the coat of many colors, but do you recall that he also had a sister? Dinah is only mentioned in a single chapter of Genesis, and then only as a victim. This is her story. Though told in first person by Dinah herself, it covers the time period from her parents meeting to years after her own death. I admit I was more interested in learning about Bronze Age life than Old Testament drama, but I enjoyed the narrative as well – more or less. I never felt any sort of emotional tie to any of the characters, perhaps because Dinah herself was so fixated on motherhood as to almost be a caricature of pre-suffrage womanhood. Though I understand and accept that motherhood was the primary occupation and ambition of most women of the time, I got a little tired of the constant obsession with wombs and menstruation and pregnancy. Then again, the male characters weren’t any more developed. I was surprised by the devoted polytheism of the wives of staunchly monotheistic Jacob, though given the lack of communication between the sexes I suppose it’s not so far-fetched. I’m not sure if I’d recommend this one or not. I mean, it was okay, but not a story that will stick with me.

A note on the audio: Bilger’s pronunciation of Dinah took some getting used to: I would have said DYE-nuh, but Bilger said DEE-nuh. Her voice was so gentle that I felt like I was listening to an advertisement for prescription medication, but all in all she was fine: inoffensive and unmemorable.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

Perfume by Patrick Suskind

Perfume by Patrick Suskind: This is the life story of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, a man with superhuman olfactory senses but no body odor of his own. The whole tale is abundantly strange, from Grenouille’s unusual birth to the string of bodies he leaves in his wake, whether he knows it or not. He reminds me somewhat of Buffalo Bill from The Silence of the Lambs. I would advise against reading while eating, as many of the scent descriptions are vivid and unpleasant. Grenouille experiences the world through his nose, and the world of 18th-century France was quite odoriferous. The weirdness of the story escalates at the end, until I started having trouble swallowing it. It was like the whole theme of the narrative shifted for the last few chapters. And if you look at it from that angle, the ending is (mostly) logical and satisfying, but most of the story leading up to it didn’t quite fit. That said, I flew through this book and was fascinated by the idea of telling a story chiefly through scent. And it is indeed told well. I’m just not sure to whom I’d recommend it. Perhaps people who like dark and weird fiction.

Now I’m terribly curious to see how they managed to make a movie out of a novel built around smells.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

The Last Days of Dogtown by Anita Diamant

The Last Days of Dogtown by Anita Diamant: Dogtown was a real place in early Massachusetts, reaching its peak population around the turn of the 19th century. Near the end, most of the inhabitants were misfits and loners: widows, freedmen, escaped slaves, prostitutes, and supposed witches. This story, detailing the last decade or so of the settlement, is not so much historical fiction as fiction inspired by history. Little is known about the residents of Dogtown, but this tale weaves a beautiful tapestry of birth and death, love and hate, kindness and cruelty. I think my favorite characters were Cornelius and Easter, and though I was disappointed in the tale of Sammy, it was a reaction to his decisions in life, not the writing style. All the characters felt real, like old friends. The time period fascinated me too, giving me a real sense for how ordinary people lived without weighing it down with famous historical events or people. This book was my introduction to the much-heralded Diamant, and I was not disappointed. Good Harbor is already on the TBR pile; I’ll have to keep an eye out for The Red Tent.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

The Other Boleyn Girl

The Other Boleyn Girl: I read the book not long ago and, as is my habit, had to see the movie. I love costume dramas anyway, so I figured even if it wasn’t very true to the book, I’d still enjoy it. My husband, who had not read the book, said it was a decent film on its own, even if it did suffer from the all-too-common “crap we need to end this now” rush to cram half the story into the last half hour. I, however, I was too busy being confused to form an opinion. The first part of the film covers several events that occur before the beginning of the book, such as Mary’s wedding and Anne’s departure for France. There are also a number of introductions between characters who, in the book, have known each other for years. Why were these things added while the real meat of the story – Anne’s entire relationship with Henry – flies by at breakneck speed? Anyway, I suppose I might recommend this film to people who haven’t read the book. I’m not a good one to judge from that point of view. I don’t expect a film to be exactly how I imagined the book, mind you.  I can usually separate the two in my mind, but this time around I simply could not. The changes just didn’t make any sense to me.

Number the Stars by Lois Lowry

Number the Stars by Lois Lowry: It’s interesting how many novels about the Nazis are written from the point of view of a child. This is no exception: Annemarie is a 10-year-old girl living in 1943 Copenhagen, which Germany invaded years before. Her best friend Ellen is a Jew, and one day her parents flee to avoid “relocation.” Annemarie’s parents take in Ellen and have her pose as their daughter. There’s quite a bit of tension every time the Nazis show up; I doubt I could have been that calm in the face of such danger at that age. Don’t skip the afterword, which explains what parts of the book were based in fact; a surprising amount of details and twists turn out not to be just clever literary devices. It’s a good glimpse of history, and unlike most books written about this time period, I didn’t cry even once. Which was a nice change.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory

The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory: I’d heard of Anne Boleyn, the second wife of King Henry VIII and the primary reason for his schism with the Catholic Church. However, I’d never heard of her sister, Mary, who was also the king’s mistress and possibly the mother of two of his children. This book is told from Mary’s point of view, beginning when Anne returns to the English court after spending her childhood in France, and ending at the conclusion of her reign as queen. While Anne is the focal point for much of the book, Mary’s transition from content courtier to distressed mother longing to live in the country with her children was the more compelling story. I was especially moved by her struggle between loyalty and disdain for her family. However, while the plot and description were lovely, the writing was somewhat amateurish. The adverbs in particular got a little tiresome. Almost every single line of dialogue ended with “said somethingly.” She said sweetly, he said irritably. It was distracting. All the same, I got sucked into the political and sexual intrigue of a time obsessed with social standing and royal heirs, every thought laced with ambition and superstition. Even knowing how it must end, I was still held in suspense during those final few chapters. Were the events described completely factual? I have no idea, and it really doesn’t matter. I read historical fiction to get a feel for the time period and the people. If I want names and dates, I’ll read a history book. This was a fun little trip to the past.

Aside: when did “piss” and “shit” become swear words? They show up quite a bit in medieval and Tudor novels. When did “poop” become the more family-friendly term? (I’d Google it but I’m honestly a little afraid what I’d find, totally unrelated to linguistics.)

Also posted on BookCrossing.

Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks

Year of Wonders by Geraldine Brooks: The plague strikes in a tiny village, and its inhabitants decide to quarantine themselves in order to prevent spreading the infection. Anna, a mere housemaid to the rector, becomes an unlikely hero through this tragedy. As time wears on and more people die, the villagers become desperate, turning to superstition and even violence. The story covers the entire event, from the delivery of the infected bolt of cloth to the reopening of the village all the way to Anna’s life afterward. When I think of the plague I usually think Middle Ages; this took place in 1666, well after the first colonies in America were founded. Even so, medicine was still quite primitive, consisting of barber-surgeons with their leeches and wise women with their herbs. Perhaps most fascinating is the afterword, where the author reveals that her story was based on the real village of Eyam who made a similar decision to cut themselves off from the rest of the world. In addition to the history, there is a lot of discussion of faith in the face of adversity, the role of women in society, and the nature of disease as it was known at the time. There’s quite a lot of story packed into this slim volume. Definitely recommended.

Also posted on BookCrossing.

Juliet by Anne Fortier

Juliet by Anne Fortier: Though Romeo & Juliet is perhaps my least favorite Shakespeare play, I am quite familiar with it and was curious to see how it would work here. When her aunt and guardian passes away, Julie is given the key to a safe deposit box in Siena, Italy, belonging to her deceased mother. Once there she discovers a longstanding feud between the Tolomeis and the Salimbenis, legendary families that inspired the famous Shakespeare play. Intertwined are the tragic tale of the original Romeo and Giulietta with Julie’s adventures as she attempts to uncover her family’s secrets. I really enjoyed this one. Some of the twists and turns truly took me by surprise, and the descriptions of Siena were vivid and enticing. I didn’t want to put it down, always promising myself just one more chapter. I’ll definitely be on the lookout for more Fortier novels.

Also posted on BookCrossing.
Read as part of the Books Won Reading Challenge.

The Swan Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova

The Swan Thieves by Elizabeth Kostova: Dr. Andrew Marlowe, psychiatrist, tracks down the three major women in the life of painter Robert Oliver to figure out why the man attacked a painting in the National Portrait Gallery. His wife (Kate) and his mistress (Mary) both tell abridged versions of their life stories, which are interesting but not especially relevant. Interspersed are letters from 1879 between a young painter (Beatrice) and her husband’s uncle (Olivier). The ending is long in coming but predictable nonetheless, and somehow unsatisfying as well. That said, I very much enjoyed this book, if only for the passionate descriptions of painting, both the act and the appreciation of. It filled me with a longing to paint, to draw, even just to visit an art gallery. Sure, the story didn’t really go anywhere, but for once that didn’t bother me. Still, I’m not sure who I’d recommend this to – maybe a struggling artist in need of inspiration. It certainly inspired me.

The audio version of this book is decent, with a full cast of narrators. I could have done without the occasional music in the background, and I saw no reason for Beatrice and Olivier to read with such obnoxiously fake French accents, but otherwise it was pretty good.

Also posted on BookCrossing.
Read as part of the Books Won Reading Challenge.

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