Review: Divergent by Veronica Roth

Title: Divergent

Author: Veronica Roth

Genre: dystopia, young-adult, science fiction

Series: Divergent #1

Pages: 487

Published: May 2011

Source: bought

Rating: 4/5

In Beatrice Prior's dystopian Chicago, society is divided into five factions, each dedicated to the cultivation of a particular virtue—Candor (the honest), Abnegation (the selfless), Dauntless (the brave), Amity (the peaceful), and Erudite (the intelligent). On an appointed day of every year, all sixteen-year-olds must select the faction to which they will devote the rest of their lives. For Beatrice, the decision is between staying with her family and being who she really is—she can't have both. So she makes a choice that surprises everyone, including herself.
During the highly competitive initiation that follows, Beatrice renames herself Tris and struggles to determine who her friends really are—and where, exactly, a romance with a sometimes fascinating, sometimes infuriating boy fits into the life she's chosen. But Tris also has a secret, one she's kept hidden from everyone because she's been warned it can mean death. And as she discovers a growing conflict that threatens to unravel her seemingly perfect society, she also learns that her secret might help her save those she loves… or it might destroy her. 

Divergent is a dystopian thriller about a society based around five principles: peace, bravery, knowledge, selflessness, and truth. Every person belongs to one of these factions, which is chosen when they reach adulthood. They go through initiation into their chosen faction and are either accepted or rejected. Normally, their choice is made easy for them: whichever faction they identify with most strongly, as based on their test. But some, called divergent, are able to manipulate their VR simulation- we learn early that they are rare, and they are dangerous. But not for the reasons you might think.

This is the story of Beatrice, a young woman undergoing the trials and tribulations of divergence. Told to keep her true result quiet, she chooses the faction Dauntless- those who value bravery over all else. Coming from Abnegation- the faction of selflessness- she expects to be welcomed into the fold as a new member, but an ugly surprise awaits her. She has to fight, literally and figuratively, her way into the ranks of Dauntless. And along the way, she will discover there is much more to this divergence thing than she could have imagined.

I greatly enjoyed this book. It probably would have been rated a full five if not for the expectations placed upon it. The premise itself was what I found hardest to believe. Five factions, five ways of thought; these are supposed to hold all of human experience? People are far too complex to fall into these kind of circle-shape-goes-in-circle-hole categories. My assumption would be that nearly everyone would be divergent; human action and reaction often depends on the situation presented. Even the most selfish of us can act selfless given the right motivation. Amirite? Having a really scary dystopian landscape where people are forced to identify with ideas far more simplistic than they truly are is a well-known literary tactic. For the purpose of this author's story, the scary factor was almost nil, in the sense that it was more story driven and not concept driven. For me, that meant the story was exciting enough, but not really riveting in the way that mind-fuckers like 1984 are.

That being said, as a YA novel this hit the mark very well. The character of Beatrice, her love interest Four, and the other young adults she has to work with fill the story in a way that speaks of major talent. In comparison with The Hunger Games, (because you knew I'd have to bring that up) the love story is Divergent's strong point. Four and Tris are believable as a couple from the moment they meet, and Four has this sort of brooding, needy sexuality that spices up the narrative nicely.

All in all, a job well done, and I'm definitely looking forward to the next in the series. Recommended.

Two Minute Review: The Last Song by Eva Wiseman

Title: The Last Song

Author: Eva Wiseman

Genre: historical fiction, young-adult

Series: N/A

Pages: 235 (Nook ARC edition)

Published: expected April 10 2012

Source: publishers via NetGalley

Rating: 2.5/5

Spain had been one of the world’s most tolerant societies for eight hundred years, but that way of life was wiped out by the Inquisition. Isabel’s family feels safe from the terrors, torture, and burnings. After all, her father is a respected physician in the court of Ferdinand and Isabella. Isabel was raised as a Catholic and doesn’t know that her family’s Jewish roots may be a death sentence. When her father is arrested by Torquemada, the Grand Inquisitor, she makes a desperate plan to save his life – and her own.

When I first came upon Eva Wiseman's novel about 15th century Spain, it sounded like it had everything going for it: an intrepid and conflicted main character, an infamous villain for the ages, an often-ignored but compelling event in history - until I opened the first chapter. What this ended up as was rather superficial story that is too short and too undeveloped to carry any kind of depth or real feeling. I was quickly disillusioned with what was in store for me in this very short young-adult historical novel because my expectations were severely let down by obvious and predictable plotting, little-to-no-characterization and inconsistencies. The Last Song tells the story of fourteen-year-old Isabel, and her family of Converso Catholics in the middle of the Inquistion of Torquemada, and was one I felt rather lukewarm about while reading.

Though this is a novel that cameos visits and appearances from actual historical personages (Ferdinand & Isabel, Torquemada, Isaac Abravanel) in addition to its cast of imaginary people, none of them have life. Torquemada is the architect of all the strife in the book but he is neither distinctive, compelling or charismatic as a villain. Much like Isabel's mother/Isabel's father/Isabel's love interest Yonah (seeing a pattern yet?), he is simply there, wooden and undeveloped. I also had issues with Caterina and Isabel after their husband/father is taken away twice by the holy Inquisition - this will get a bit spoilery so be warned! The family has had a plan in store for SEVENTY PAGES, one prepared for this exact event, and it has to happen twice with weeks before they use their "failproof" plan. I was so frustrated by this obvious cluelessness on behalf of the women that I saw it as a cheap method used to drive the plot forward. Seriously, how do two scared women fighting for their lives and family forget their "Get Out of Torture Free" card/letter?

The plot follows a fairly totally predictable route from the beginning on and never diverges into something greater, more original. Isabel's struggles and problems are no more unique than a thousand historical fiction YA heroines betrothed to someone they loathe with feelings for another, impossible match. It's hard to review a character with so little to recommend or distinguish her, because like I said earlier, Isabel was there. She was serviceable, she did what was required of her for the plot advancement and nothing more. If you erase "Isabel"'s name and input "Luis" "Caterina" or any other, the result would be the same: they played their defined roles and nothing less.

All that aside, I really do like the cover. It does a nice job of hinting at the blood and pain that accompany Torquemada and his familiars wherever they go.

Short-ish Blog Watch Wednesday!

Reviews Posted:

Croak by Gina Damico - 4/5 stars

A Grown-Up Kind of Pretty by Joshilyn Jackson - 3.5/5 stars

The Wolf Gift by Anne Rice -3/5 stars

Royal Street by Suzanne Johnson - 2.5/5 stars

The Printmaker's Daughter by Katherine Govier - 3/5 stars

Ripper by Amy Carol Reevers - 3.5/5 stars

The Rook by Daniel O'Malley - 4/5 stars

The Sister Queens by Sophie Perinot - 5/5 stars

Dust Girl by Sarah Zettel - 4/5 stars

 Fun Stuff:

Several from io9:

• 10 Moons Every Person Should Know
• An Artist Suspends Clouds in Room
• The Most Detailed Map Ever for George R.R. Martin's world in ASOIAF

This Week in WTF Arizona:

#1. Senate Passes Law Allowing Doctors to Lie to Patiets about Birth Issues

#2. New Law on Books Proposes Women Can be Fired For Use of Birth Control

I live in Arizona, this affects me personally and there is almost no media coverage of it. Neither here or on a national level, so please read up and stop this recent trend of misogynist lawmaking.

On a lighter note: I want this alarm clock. It wakes you up with Stephen Fry saying: "It appears to be morning. Very inconvenient, I agree. I believe it is the rotation of the Earth that is to blame, Sir." "I am delighted that you have survived another night." or "I'm afraid that the staff has absconded, Sir, and it is my day off. I trust it would not too onerous, Sir, to make your own exquisitely slices toast and perfectly cooked breakfast?"

After 244 Years, Encyclopedia Britannica Stops the Presses

Introvert vs. Extrovert Personality Quiz - or ambivert? Yep - it exists but I am not one. I am an extrovert.

This is a rather creative photoshoot that shows seniors looking at a reflection of their younger selves. The first one is my favorite.

Long in the works Ender's Game gets three new cast members.

TUMBLR OF THE WEEK: Least Helpful Reviews.

From Cracked:

6 Horrifying Implications of the Harry Potter Universe
Harry Potter vs. Lord of the Rings: The FINAL Showdown
7 Scientific Reasons You'll Turn Out Just Like Your Parents
6 Historical Events That Are Way More Modern Than You Think 
The 6 Worst Hiding Places in the History of Crime
6 Insect Predators That Go Out of Their Way to be Evil
5 People From History Who Were Absurdly Hard to Kill

Review: Dust Girl by Sarah Zettel

Title: Dust Girl

Author: Sarah Zettel

Genre: mythic fiction, supernatural fiction, young-adult, historical fiction

Series: The American Fairy Trilogy #1

Pages: 304 (Nook ARC edition)

Published: expected June 2012

Source: publishers via NetGalley

Rating: 4/5

This new trilogy will capture the hearts of readers who adore Libba Bray's Gemma Doyle series. 

Callie LeRoux lives in Slow Run, Kansas, helping her mother run their small hotel and trying not to think about the father she's never met. Lately all of her energy is spent battling the constant storms plaguing the Dust Bowl and their effects on her health. Callie is left alone, when her mother goes missing in a dust storm. Her only hope comes from a mysterious man offering a few clues about her destiny and the path she must take to find her parents in "the golden hills of the west" (California). 

Along the way she meets Jack a young hobo boy who is happy to keep her company—there are dangerous, desperate people at every turn. And there's also an otherworldly threat to Callie. Warring fae factions, attached to the creative communities of American society, are very aware of the role this half-mortal, half-fae teenage girl plays in their fate

"An unexpected delight" were the immediate words to pop into my head upon my all-too-soon completion of this historical remake of America in the Dust Bowl - with fairies! Teaching me once again that assumptions are flawed from the outset, both early and often Dust Girl exceeded my expectations. I got a thoroughly developed and humanly flawed heroine, a likeable rogue for a possible love interest, a fresh envisioning of the oft-used Seelie/Unseelie Courts of fae and a very unique background in which all these elements operate: Oklahoma, 1935 right in the grips of the Dust Bowl. From the first page I was taken completely by the story Sarah Zettel has crafted so skillfully and truthfully? I didn't want to end - the potential for awesome shown just in the creativity behind the ideas extends itself as well to the contents of the book.

Calliope referred to as "Callie" and her mom are barely making do in their dying town of Slow Run, Kansas. With a long-gone dad and a struggling mom, Callie is older than her age, mature and self-aware. Her personal evolution progresses right along with her travels to both find her mother and figure out her future - the more Callie sees and understands the more she matures and figures things out independently. She's a smart protagonist and it's easy to root for her with such a sympathetic voice. Callie is also one of the few non-white main characters in YA I've come across lately (Shadows on the Moon's Suzume is the only other I can recall), but thankfully that is not the forefront of her characterization. Callie's mixed race does play a part in the plot of the novel but it by no means defines who she is as a person or character. (I also wish cover more accurately portrayed how Callie is described... )I also appreciate the subtlety in which Callie's race was used as a reminder of the horrendous state of American prejudices without Zettel overdoing it. But what else doesn't define Callie? Her offbeat and thoroughly charming-in-a-rogueish-way love interest, Jack.

Jack is a great addition to the story. He balances out Callie's personality traits with flair, history and wit of his own. I have to admit one of the things I liked best about Jack was that he's not immediately introduced as some swoon-worthy love-interest, nor is his and Callie's connection all about teenage fluctuating hormones. In this very action-packed novel, Jack and Callie make for an unusual but oddly complementary pair. They work well together, despite the occasional bickering (who hasn't been "ready to kill him stone dead" referring to someone they care about?), and I liked them for one another... not that anything progresses to that kind of crux. <spoiler>They are two people used to hiding who they are: Jacob for his religion, Callie because of her multiple hidden heritages. They make sense for one another: they don't have to hide but can freely be themselves.</spoiler>Those looking for a romance-charged YA novel, this is not that book. And I love Dust Girl even more for not going that predictable and inevitably boring route. If anything, what happens between the two main characters is more of an age-appropriate "puppy love" than anything else and it is adorable, and doesn't rely on cheap tricks love triangles to create affecting problems for the two..

The atmosphere/background of the novel is complete and stretches to every aspect of the book. I thoroughly believed I was in the 1930's, and the dialogue reads like how I would expect for an impoverished girl/boy at those times ("I got nothing." "A crazy Eye-Talian", etc.) It feels authentic without patronizing. Zettel also has a unique and charming way with words to paint a vivid but not overdone tapestry of locations throughout Dust Girl. As Callie and Jack move across the dust-covered lands, each different locale springs to life with very tactile but not overly descriptive prose. It's obvious that research has gone into crafting as authentic a representation as possible and Zettel succeeds with flying colors. I also liked the sprinkles of other mythlogies and lore within this tale of fae and fairies: Baya the Coyote familiar to many Native religions, and even Callie's own real name "Calliope" was a player in ancient Greek mythology. These inclusions don't feel odd in the middle of such an America-centric novel, but rather more mesh seamlessly within the larger scope of Zettel's novel of magic. The 'magic' aspect of this could've been expounded upon more (and one of the reasons I rated this a 4 instead of 5 stars is because it wasn't detailed to my satisfaction) but what was there, was serviceable. And creepy. <spoiler>Particularly the Hopper family. I have a fear of grasshoppers (don't judge me! My brother used to hide them in my bed under my covers.) so as soon as Callie figures out what's so odd about the hungry family I got majorly squicked out.</spoiler>

The other main reason why this a 4 star review and not a 5 like I'd love it to, is that the ending leaves a little to be desired. While there are two more novels left to conclude this series, everything seemed a bit too easy and simple at the resolution. It was satisfying in the most part, but I expected more about the fae/magic/the Midnight People. I guess I will just have to be patient and wait for book #2.

Review: The Sister Queens by Sophie Perinot

Title: The Sister Queens

Author: Sophie Perinot

Genre: historical fiction

Series: N/A

Pages: 528 (paperback ARC version)

Published: March 2012

Source: from publishers for review/book tour

Rating: 5/5

Patient, perfect, and used to being first, Marguerite becomes Queen of France. But Louis IX is a religious zealot who denies himself the love and companionship his wife craves. Can she borrow enough of her sister's boldness to grasp her chance for happiness in a forbidden love?

Passionate, strong-willed, and stubborn, Eleanor becomes Queen of England. Henry III is a good man, but not a good king. Can Eleanor stop competing with her sister and value what she has, or will she let it slip away? 

This is the type of book I am constantly looking for in the historical fiction genre, and rarely seem to stumble across; it's very engaging from the outset, it's lively to read with actualized characters in stead of cardboard historical cutouts, and it's mostly, somewhat accurate. Sophie Perinot may indeed be a first-time author, but you certainly wouldn't know that from reading her debut novel. The Sister Queens tells the captivating and contrasting stories of two proud sisters from Savoy and I was never bored reading about these two fascinating and strong women. This novel is an impressive and lengthy addition to the Tudor-heavy historical fiction genre, and miraculously, one that despite its nearly 530 page length, never bores. I personally read a lot of Tudor-era historical fiction, but this was just the right palate cleanser for all the Howards, Boleyns and Stuarts I usually see re-imagined. Thus, I may not have known as much about or been as familiar with the facts and history of the times the novel takes place during (1234-1255) going into this, but the characters were so vivid and alive that I felt compelled to research the actual personages upon finishing. Ms. Perinot's creation is indelibly her own, but I appreciate the factually-influenced way she presented both her story and her characters.

Marguerite and Eleanor are both sisters and, eventually, Queens, but it is the first bond more than anything that defines them the most. They are each others touchstone, especially once they are separated with Marguerite in France and Eleanor in England. Especially since each country viewed their foreign "Savoyard" Queens as less than appealing, their dependent relationship with the other is realistic and sympathetic. The Sister Queens interjects epistolary (fabricated) letters between the two before every chapter and each missive between the two reinforces just how close these women remained, though separated by years, wars, religion, distance.  The POV shifts back and forth between the two, usually at the chapter breaks. While this could've been easily confusing, the "voices" of each respective Queen is very distinctive and identifiable. I didn't even really notice the use of present-tense for the first few chapters: I just felt that everything in the novel very immediate, in a good way. I could tell when I was reading Eleanor and when I was reading Marguerite before names/places popped up in their thoughts. The relationship between Marguerite and Eleanor, proud daughters of Savoy is the most compelling and emotional of the entire novel: unlike the relationships with their respective husbands, the relationship between the pair is as close to equals as the two can find in their lives. Their is an obvious amount of love between the two, but Perinot early on creatively slides in subtle hints of discord and strife that mar every sisterhood and that will eventually come to affect their bond. 

Eleanor is the younger, covetous and more strident of the two, and my personal favorite of the novel.  She is a woman very concerned with "fairness" and what's right, at least what's right according to her - character traits that will cause her unforeseen problems with both her husband and sister later in life. While I liked the personal evolution that both women undertake during the events of the book, I felt that Eleanor was more personally identifiable for me as a reader. Marguerite, especially as her marriage and happiness in that marriage, waned was more trouble for me to invest within. Perinot's deft foreshadowing on the troublesome piety of Louis IX sets the scene for Marguerite's woes early, but I only cared when she finally took some happiness for herself, rather than sit and pine and wait for her husband to extend some to her. Eleanor grows from an imperious, headstrong girl mostly concerned with what she possesses and controls into a gracious, intelligent queen that is both capable of reigning solely (unheard of at that time in history) and tampering her less-able King and husband's governing impulses.  While neither husband-King of either sister could be rightly termed a "good" king (Henry is very ignorant of the feelings of the populace/Barons that control his country, LouisIX abandons his France for the Holy Land for SEVEN YEARS), both women show their ability to step up and make hard decisions when the menfolk can't seem to get the job done right.

While Eleanor was my self-professed favorite character, I do love a good villain. Blanche of Castile comprises that role for the bulk of the novel for Marguerite, and the "Dragon of Castile" made a malicious and well-mannered antagonist. The tête-à-têtes between Blanche and her daughter-in-law show a different side to the usually meek and accepting Marguerite; the first hints of future independence are shown clearly in her lack of deference to the dowager Queen. While later duties of antagonism were ably handled by her bumbling and ascetic son, Blanche commands attention even when not on the page. Her tussles with her daughter in love over her son/Marguerite's husband illustrate perfectly how alone and powerless Marguerite was in France. Not for her was her sister Eleanor's life of mutual love and respect, which itself was far from typical of the Royal couples of the day. Because of Blanche, Marguerite is a nonentity at the court of which she is Queen. This disparate use of power and control contrasts tidily with the life of Eleanor who schemes and manipulates her own court outright. The difference between the sisters is that Eleanor makes things happen, whereas <spoiler>until Jean</spoiler>and Marguerite is content to sit and wait for things to fall her way

One of the most enjoyable aspects of The Sister Queens is that no matter how convoluted the relationship, how twisted the tale, how unfamiliar the person at Court, Sophie Perinot never talks down to her readers. The tone of condescion from other historical fiction writers is absent entirely from these pages. Events are explained precisely and meticulously, nobles are referred to by their various names without reference to their every title or land (no "Lord Edward Sudbury, 2nd Earl of Westchester-on-the-Green, a Stuart and son of Lord......" type business before a character speaks/etc,) with a clear belief and respect that her readers can ably follow along.

I do wish that more had been shown of Eleanor's "toute seule" reign over England while her husband King Henry III was away. As Eleanor was my favorite and a very capable governor, a view of her directly in charge would've made a good contrast to the usual role she was forced to take. Elanor repeatedly maneuvers her husband into the Royal decisions and decrees which she deems correct before the regency, so a view into her own government would've been interesting to read. I'm also disappointed by the time that the novels ends at - 1255 - when both women have decades of still-tumultuous life ahead of them (Marguerite dies in 1295, Eleanor in 1291). I can't complain about the cut-off point too much or loudly because there is a lot of novel in what is provided (all 500 pages of Court intrigue, betrayals, war, love, uprisings) but I just want more. I want more about these two and their complicated, engrossing relationship from this author.

With her debut novel, Sophie Perinot brings to life, once again, two fascinating woman about whom not much is concretely known. Perinot's Eleanor and Marguerite are not just historical figures reimagined and operating upon the page: they are vibrant, strong, flawed and above all: interesting to read for the entire 528 page length of the book. This is a book that makes me want to read more in the same vein: I've pre-ordered another novel just because it focuses on the four daughters of Savoy who would all marry Kings. This is a book that makes me want another from the author immediately. This is a book that I would love to see spun into a sequel completing the years of the lives of the two main characters. This was a wonderful read and one of my favorites so far this year. This was a wonderful read and one of my favorites so far this year. Move over Tudors, I think I have a new historical royal family obsession.

This  review is part of the Passages to the Past Historical Fiction Virtual Book Tour for The Sister Queens. Stop by again on the 23rd of March for an interview with the author, Sophie Perinot. Or, click the link the check out other stops for giveaways, interviews and more reviews!

Review: Ripper by Amy Carol Reeves

Title: Ripper

Author: Amy Carol Reeves

Genre: historical fiction, mystery, young-adult

Series: N/A

Pages: 340 (Nook ARC edition)

Published: expected April 8 2012

Source: publishers via NetGalley

Rating: 3.5/5

In 1888, following her mother's sudden death, 17-year-old Arabella Sharp goes to live with her grandmother in a posh London neighborhood. At her grandmother's request, Abbie volunteers at Whitechapel Hospital, where she discovers a passion for helping the unfortunate women and children there. But within days, female patients begin turning up brutally murdered at the hands of Jack the Ripper.

Is there any London figure more re-imagined, re-invented or rebooted than Jack the Ripper? I love Ripper novels, macabre as they might be. I've read several fiction and literature takes on the murders, and am always on the lookout for a creepy mystery revolving around his spree in the 1880s. Even the young-adult genre isn't free from multiple different versions of the serial killer; in addition to this soon-to-be published historical fiction, there is also another book version of the infamous monster penned by Stefan Petrucha, due out the beginning of March. The question I was most curious about during my read of Ripper was deciding whether or not Reeves version of the nightmare in human form succeeded on its own merit or whether it was a pale shadow of another version. While several parts of Ripper were quite diverting, creepy and fun, the strength of the novel rests on the mystery at the heart of it and the surprisingly strong and likeable main character of Arabella Sharpe.

Abbie is 17, newly orphaned and at the mercy of ton-loving and strict grandmother. Unlike her society grandmother, Abbie is more concerned with doing what she wants than what society expects her to do. She's easily likeable, an obviously good egg, but not the most distinguishable main character/heroine I've ever come across. As the grand-daughter and ward of a titled noble, Abbie's non-traditional and nonconformist ways lead to repeated and heated confrontations with her elderly guardian, but damaged family history keeps the two together despite their differences. Abbie struggles throughout the book with more than just figuring out the culprit of the East End: the memory and legacy of her dead mother is an issue that Abbie fixates on, a marker by which she is constantly judging herself and finding herself wanting.

Outside of Abbie, the cast is functional if not spectacular. I didn't walk away from reading Ripper with a new book-boyfriend or even a book-crush. One of the problems therein is that there is, of course, a love triangle at the heart of Abbie's romantic life. Even though I failed to believe the attraction to either male party, I have to admit it wasn't as much of a focus in the novel as I had initially feared. Both William and Simon do seem a bit too perfect to be real/believeable (Simon's manners and William's knowledge particularly) but, for once, they each appealed to unique and distinct aspects of Abbie's life. Simon represents the old life, the society, money and rules that Abbie has resisted for years, while William represents freedom, choices and the ability to determine her own rules. Both have their own strengths and weaknesses, and honestly, both would have clicked well with Abbie. While I will never be a fan of the love-triangle in a novel, especially YA novels, it is refreshing to read one where all parties have chemistry and a different appeal for the main character. It's not just a question of "who is hotter" or "Team [X]" but an actual decision Abbie must make with maturity, and hopefully, finality. No back-and-forth, wishywashy undecidedness between the two, thank you, please. 

Victorian London is the perfect backdrop for such a murderous and mysterious tale - a society rigidly controlled and mannered while a madman flouts all civil convention right in the face of the populace. It illustrates perfectly that no matter how refined the world becomes, there is always danger lurking unseen.  I admit to being someone that is fairly easily creeped out - I have a low scare threshold - and Ripper honestly got to me a few times. While it wasn't the bonechilling, look-over-your-shoulder-every-two-minutes experience like I had with reading the English-set Long Lankin (dear christ, that is a creeeepy book) Ripper does quite well at continually building up tension in the atmosphere as Abby races to solve the mystery. The only thing that struck a discordant with the setting and location of this novel is that none of the characters' speech patterns, slang or dialogue felt authentically 19th century London, All of which read like very modern (American?) English, and ruined any 1880's vibe the rest of the story carried.

One of the problems I had while reading this, is that the author tends to spell out emotions and character's inner feelings instead of showing them. Phrases like, "I could tell by Grandmother's demeanor that she respected Simon and seemed particularly fond of him, " abound instead of allowing Grandma Charlotte to show such herself. I also found the addition of the supernatural elements to be lacking: no reason is provided for why Abbie gets them, where they come from, or if they're just connected to the Ripper. It's odd that the fantasy element is so vague when the rest of the novel is a straight-forward historical fiction; I wish more effort had gone into explaining how the talent will relate to Abbie's life. 

Though I was disappointed by areas of this historical fiction, I would read another novel by this author featuring these characters. The ending, though a bit rushed in comparison to the pace of the bulk of the book, was action-packed and thoroughly satisfying. While some of the murderer's motivations are on the thin side of things, there's more good than bad in Amy Carol Reeves novel. 

Two Minute Review: The Printmaker's Daughter by Katherine Govier

Title: The Printmaker's Daughter/ The Ghost Brush

Author: Katherine Govier

Genre: historical fiction

Series: N/A

Pages: 494 (Nook ARC edition)

Published: November 2011

Source: publishers via NetGalley

Rating:  3/5 for the 300 pages I completed

The legendary printmaker Hokusai created Japan’s best-known image, The Great Wave—but the story of his daughter Oei comes to life for the first time in this vivid historical novel, combining scholarly detective work and a daring narrative that shines fresh light on issues of authorship, duty, and the tender and inscrutable bond between a father and daughter.

Recounting the story of her life, Oei plunges us into the colorful world of 19th-century Edo, in which courtesans rub shoulders with poets, artists consort with warriors, and the arts flourish in an unprecedented moment of creative foment—all despite a repressive political regime. Oei and Hokusai live amongst actors, novelists, tattoo artists, and prostitutes, evading the Shogunate's spies. Her father journeys to gather visual references for his evolving masterpiece, Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji. Wielding her brush, Oei rejects the typical pursuit of domesticity in favor of dedication to the arts. She defies all expectations of womanhood. All but one—a dutiful daughter to the last, she will obey the will of her eccentric father, the man who created her and who, ultimately, will rob her of her future.

This is less a review, even a short one, than an exercise to vanquish the guilt I have for not being able to finish this novel. I rarely, rarely give in and DNF a historical novel: my curiousity to see how things work out and my high threshold for frippery description usually overpowers my good sense. By all means, I wanted to love and should have loved this journey into 1800s Edo Japan, but this was most definitely not the novel I thought I was getting. Some readers will be enchanted by Govier's visually striking version of the isolationist country, but I wasn't diverted or engrossed by Oei and the Old Man's journey through the years of her life. I kept waiting for something, anything, to happen in those hard-fought 300 pages of reading but.... nothing of note did and I had to throw in the towel.

My first major complaint about The Printmaker's Daughter and one that persisted for most of the pages I managed to conclude: the accent/speech patterns used for the courteans of the Corner Tamaya. A confusing overuse of the letter 'z' for pluralization or to show ownership was the first problem I caught on to ("She'z so, like, stiff. She'z like a lady!") but it was sadly also far from the last. Why do these 1800's whores speak like 1990's California valleygirls? Phrases and words like "pulleeez" "chi-yuld" and "it'z so noi-zy!" is not how women of the time expressed themselves so it's a jarring speech pattern for the author to have them use - and somewhat condescending as well. Why does the word "like" pop up every three words in the conversation of the courtesans? Given that young Oei spends quite a chunk of the beginning of the novel among the bordellos with her father, it's a reoccuring and distracting issue.   

Oei herself isn't too bad of a protagonist, though she's not fully fleshed out by the time I closed the cover for the final time. I actually really enjoyed reading about the complicated but loving relationship between Oei and her famous father; she clearly values his opinion and work more than her own life. Even the title of the novel reinforces how clearly Oei defines herself by the terms of her father.  Govier seems to have largely based her Hokusai on the real man, easily enfolding actual facts about the main into the narrative easily and often. I liked the characters, but I didn't closely identif with any, root for any or hate any. They were just mostly there...doing nothing for 300 pages. The ultra-weird narrative shifts, from two hundred fifty pages of first-person perspective to a third-person view and back again to first is just clunky and weird. A more streamlined transition between views would help the whiplash of flipping back and forth so much. 

This was just not for me, though I can easily see others overlooking what I could not and enjoying this far more/ actually completing the entire 500-page length.  I just don't want to muscle through a novel only to write a tepid review after - by no means is this even close to the worst I have read this year. I just lacked the desire to pursue another 200 pages of anachronistic accents and weird POV shifts with nothing happening in between to break up the monotony.

The cover for the editions printed as The Ghost Brush: