2015 Reading Challenges Master List

In a bid to make up for my lacklustre attempts at reading as many books as I'd like to in the last few years, I've signed up for five separate reading challenges for 2015. While I could place books on two lists, I haven't done that. The idea is to read as many books as possible and broaden my horizons a little bit. I'll probably fail miserably but I'm going to have fun trying with this lot.

New Author Challenge

Hosted by Literary Escapism, this challenge does what it says on the tin - you have to read a set amount of new authors in 2015. I'm opting into the lowest rung of fifteen novels which may make me a bit of a wimp but I want to try and complete it after all. I've listed the precise books I intend to read and not just the authors because the rest of the lists will look like this and I'm nothing if not methodical. It's a reasonable mix of modern novels and older stuff. 

1. The Middlesteins by Jami Attenberg
2. After Me Comes the Flood by Sarah Perry
3. The Failed Assassin by Richard Pierce
4. Dead to Me by Cath Staincliffe
5. The Accidental Mother by Rowan Coleman
6. Heresy by S.J. Parris
7. The Bawdy Basket by Edward Marston
8. The Lost Abbot by Susanna Gregory
9. The Heir of Redclyffe by Charlotte Yonge
10. Patricia Brent, Spinster by Herbert George Jenkins
11. The Betrothed by Alessandro Manzoni
12. The Mystery of a Hansom Cab by Fergus Hume
13. King Solomon's Mines by Henry Rider Haggard
14. The Angel of Terror by Edgar Wallace
15. The Bartlett Mystery by Louis Tracy

Women Challenge

Hosted by Peek a booK!, the idea is to get people reading more books by women. While that's probably my default position anyway, it can't hurt to make it official and, besides, it's setting in stone that I need to read some of those classics I've so far neglected. I'm opting for the second level which is six to fifteen books and aiming for the higher end of that category.

1. The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot
2. Brick Mother by S.J. Bradley
3. The Lovels of Arden by Mary Elizabeth Braddon
4. The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters
5. Here Be Dragons by Stella Gibbons
6. Sylvia's Lovers by Elizabeth Gaskell
7. In the Days of My Youth by Amelia Edwards
8. Murder on a Summer's Day by Frances Brody
9. Mathilda by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
10. Camilla by Fanny Burney
11. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
12. Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell
13. Nancy by Rhoda Broughton
14. Miss Marjoribanks by Margaret Oliphant
15. The Story of an African Farm by Olive Schreiner

TBR Challenge

Hosted by Roof Beam Reader, this is the challenge I failed miserably at last year, only getting through five of my choices. As a consequence, several of these books are appearing on the list for the second year running and I'll try to do better this time. As per the rules, all of these books have been waiting to be read for at least a year and there are twelve books on this list. 

1. Author, Author by David Lodge
2. Mutants by Armand Marie Leroi
3. Radclyffe Hall: A Woman Called John by Sally Cline
4. The Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices by Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins
5. The Secret Diaries of Miss Anne Lister
6. 800 Years of Women's Letters
7. Collected Stories by Dylan Thomas
8. Henry Dunbar by Mary Elizabeth Braddon
9. The New Magdalen by Wilkie Collins
10. Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens
11. The Moon and Sixpence by W. Somerset Maugham
12. Witch Stories by Eliza Lynn Linton

Victorian Bingo Challenge

This one, hosted by Becky's Book Reviews, is rather fun. You have to complete a row, line or diagonal on the bingo board and, again, I'm using this challenge to read books I should've read already. I've gone across the top, mainly because I wanted to avoid some categories that would likely put me off the challenge and there are five books involved in this one.

1. Book Published in the 1840s - Dombey and Son by Charles Dickens
2. Male Author - The Warden by Anthony Trollope
3. Female Author - Charlotte's Inheritance by Mary Elizabeth Braddon
4. Book with a Name as the Title - Felix Holt, the Radical by George Eliot
5. Book Published in Serial Format - The Cloister and the Hearth by Charles Reade

Reading England Challenge

Hosted by Behold the Stars, this challenge is to read books set in different parts of the country. I'm opting for level two which is four to six books and aiming for the higher number again. I've deliberately filled this selection with classics too, probably because I'm a glutton for punishment.

1. Berkshire - Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy
2. Essex - Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens
3. Derbyshire - Rookwood by W.H. Ainsworth
4. Nottinghamshire - Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence
5. Somerset - Lorna Doone by R.D. Blackmore
6. Lancashire - Mary Barton by Elizabeth Gaskell

Book Review: Intersection by Nancy Ann Healy

Intersection tells the story of Alex Toles, an FBI agent assigned to protect Congressman Chris O'Brien's ex-wife and son following the delivery of some suspicious letters. Alex soon learns that there is much more going on than meets the eye and becomes embroiled in political conspiracies. Added to her problems is the fact that she has quickly fallen for Cassidy O'Brien, making her desire to protect Cassidy and her son Dylan as much personal as professional.

The plot of this novel works really well. It's intriguing, fast-moving and with enough twists and turns to keep the reader interested. Healy has certainly mastered the use of cliffhangers, employing them to great effect throughout. She's also adept at cryptic dialogue, forcing you occasionally to struggle to keep up with what's going on. Some of the twists were expected, some weren't, and she often manages to build suspense by giving the reader knowledge the protagonist doesn't have. The cliffhanger at the end of the book to lead into a sequel is fine because the main tension of the book, the danger posed to Cassidy by a stalker, has been rectified. All that works well.

Similarly, the characterisation of Alex and Cassidy is excellent, although the love story is a little rushed at the beginning. They are different enough to spark off each other and I came away from the book thinking of them as real people. Dylan, the young son, is also well-drawn, not coming across as a cardboard cut-out the way some children in fiction do. Possibly my favourite character, though, is Cassidy's mother, Rose, simply because she's so grounded and practical.

All that said, I did have a few issues with the composition of the book. There's an intermittent problem where the tags after speech are wrongly capitalised (eg, 'Yes,' He said.) which is distracting. Equally, there's a little too much 'the agent', 'the teacher' identification throughout which was unnecessary and could easily have been remedied. Healy needs to keep a tighter grip on her prose, checking for repetitions within sentences and ditching some of the more obvious clichés.

I don't mean these to be criticisms so much as helpful observations. As I said above, I enjoyed the book as a whole - it kept me hooked despite the problems with the composition. I would like to see Healy improve and I will certainly be reading the sequel when it's released.

Book Review: Quicksand/Passing by Nella Larsen

The beauty of both these novels was that, however short, I still came away with the sense of having lived a great length of time with the characters. That's not a bad achievement when you consider that Quicksand comes in at 135 pages and Passing at 99 in the edition I own. Nevertheless, these two novels are exceptional, both in terms of content and execution.

Quicksand, a loosely autobiographical novel, tells the story of Helga Crane. Helga is essentially dissatisfied with her life, unable to articulate precisely what it is she wants - or where she belongs - as the product of a black father and a white mother. We first encounter Helga as she decides to leave the black boarding school in which she teaches, though her resolve is almost shaken by a meeting with the principle, Dr Anderson. She travels first to Chicago, where she is turned away by her maternal uncle's new wife, then on to New York. From there she goes to Copenhagen to visit her maternal aunt then she returns to New York, ostensibly for her friend's marriage to Dr Anderson but also because the creeping dissatisfaction that always seems to plague her has returned. After a chance encounter with a religious group, she marries a Southern preacher and moves to Alabama. Inevitably, though, this fails to lead to the happiness she hoped it would.

Helga's journeys are about exploring her dissatisfaction - what she wants from life and what she wants from a husband - but it also explores her roles in the various places she attempts to situate herself. In the boarding school, she detests the philosophy, in New York she finds herself bored by constant references to the racial cause while in Copenhagen she is a curiosity. Her hopes that her desires - physical and spiritual - will be fulfilled by marriage to the Southern preacher are soon dashed. Ultimately, Quicksand is a novel about belonging and desire and the sad reality of those hopes.

The chapters are short, frustratingly so, I thought when I first started reading. But then I began to appreciate the snapshots given by Larsen - further elaboration wasn't necessary. It also had the added effect of making Helga almost the only important character. Others passed through the pages but we don't really know them. In terms of focusing solely on Helga's experiences, this is very effective. In addition, the scant descriptions used to situate chapters in time and place are wonderfully evocative. Larsen's chief talent, perhaps, is making so much out of so little.

Passing tells of Irene Redfield and her friendship with Clare Kendry. They knew each other when they were younger in Chicago, sharing the fact that they are of mixed ancestry. By chance, Irene encounters Clare when she returns to visit her family and is fascinated by her, though also nettled by the fact that Clare 'passes' for white, which Irene herself could legitimately do if she so wished. At a tea with Clare and another friend, she encounters Clare's husband, John Bellew, a virulent racist whose views expose the threat Clare is under. Years later, Clare surprises Irene in New York after Irene has ignored her letter. Clare, it seems, misses her own kind and starts flirting with danger, visiting New York's black communities without her husband's knowledge. However, Irene also starts to suspect that something is going on between Clare and her own husband, leading to a brutal finale.

The main focus of this novel is people 'passing' for white and it takes up a lot of space. However, there are also readings underneath of sexual identity, with Irene's fascination for Clare provoking her into contradicting herself and over-thinking. Whatever the 'truth' of the situations within the novel are is never made clear, but there is enough suggested to make Passing linger long after reading. The climax, also, is one so surprising that it will probably haunt me for some time yet.

This book was read as part of the TBR Challenge 2014, details here.

Book Review: A Sicilian Romance by Ann Radcliffe

A Sicilian Romance has a typically twisted Gothic plot which I'll attempt to summarise without giving the end away. Emilia and Julia Mazzini lost their mother at a young age. Their father remarried to a young woman and lived away from the family castle with their brother Ferdinand. The girls are joined in their lonely life by their mother's faithful friend, Madame de Menon. Things change when the Marquis and his young wife come back to the castle. Julia is promised by her father to the ageing Duke de Luovo but has fallen in love with a friend of her brother's, Hippolitus. They plot to elope but the plan doesn't go smoothly...

This is an extremely atmospheric novel, playing on the spectres of an ancient castle and using the surrounding area - woodland, caves, secret underground passages - to great effect. It is also well-plotted with the end tying up all the loose ends completely and explaining all the mysteries put forward throughout. I have to say that certain events surprised me as I progressed and I simply enjoyed the twists and turns without trying to second guess everything.

On the characterisation side, the characters were a little under-explored for my liking, taking a back seat to the complex plot but I expected that. I also felt characters were forgotten for long periods, particularly poor Emilia. Her experience of living at the castle after her sister has fled could have been a novel in its own right.

Some of the most potent scenes in A Sicilian Romance come from truly terrifying incidents. For instance, Ferdinand, languishing in the dungeon, hears screaming from another quarter of the castle. Another example is when Julia and Hippolitus find themselves in one of the most gruesome rooms imaginable. That scene alone is enough to make this book stand out but there are many others of merit.

A Sicilian Romance draws on a number of Gothic conventions but is no less enjoyable for it. Watch out for armed bandits, nuns, convents, secret prisons and poison.

Book Review: Elijah's Mermaid by Essie Fox

Having read The Somnambulist by Fox last year (review here), I was delighted to receive a review copy of Elijah's Mermaid from the publisher. Fox's second novel more than lives up to the promise of the first, so much so that I read the final third in one huge gulp, unable to sleep without finishing it.

The novel has two interconnecting strands. Web-toed Pearl was found in the Thames as a baby and subsequently brought up in the House of the Mermaids, a brothel under the direction of Mrs Hibbert with the menacing presence of Tip Thomas nearby. Protected until the age of fourteen, she then realises she's been protected simply to be sold to the highest bidder. This turns out to be Osborne Black, an artist obsessed with mermaids in search of a muse. Meanwhile, Lily and Elijah Lamb were twins deposited at the Foundling Hospital and finally reunited with their grandfather via the intervention of publisher Frederick Hall. However, a trip to London and a chance meeting with Pearl changes Elijah. Soon he receives an offer he can't refuse and moves to London, leaving Lily anxiously waiting for his letters.

Perhaps one of the most important aspects of Elijah's Mermaid are the various settings which spring to life on the page. The brothel is one such setting but my personal favourite was Dolphin House, Black's home, where you can almost smell the damp seeping from the book. There's an appendix included where you can read about the inspiration for the settings which was a great idea.

Story-wise, I think the novel was flawless. Although some of the twists I anticipated, many I didn't and, anyway, it was wonderful to sit back and let the story unfold. Lily and Pearl are two contrasting heroines, with different knowledge about the world, and these differing viewpoints help keep the novel interesting. One of the most memorable characters, however, isn't even human - I'll let you discover that one by yourselves.

The thing that makes Elijah's Mermaid so compelling is probably the drift between respectability and the Victorian underclass. The two merge tantalisingly at times and it certainly helps to make the novel fascinating, especially to someone as interested in the period as I am. Above all, however, this book is an excellent story with twists and turns galore. Definitely worth a read, whether you're fascinated by the Victorian period or not.

Books I Couldn't Read

As some people may know, today is Bloomsday. With that in mind, the Internet is awash with people either congratulating themselves on having blundered through Ulysses or demonstrating their wisdom by happily pointing out they've never tried to read the thing. Personally, I've read it twice. It was one of the set texts on my undergraduate Modernism unit. I remember hating it the first time I tried then giving it a second shot and actually... well, I don't think I loved it but I certaininly hated it less. In the exam we had a choice of focusing on the novel or Eliot's The Waste Land. I don't think many people focused on Ulysses but I did. I felt it owed me a pass! Anyway, Bloomsday prompted me to take a look at my own bookshelves and those books I haven't yet read. This isn't including my ever-increasing TBR pile, which includes everything I intend to read in the next six to eight months. Nope, these are the ones I'm not so sure about ever reading. All advice gratefully received.

A Passage to India, E.M Forster
Bought for my Colonialism and Post Colonialism unit but never read.

Scenes of Clerical Life, George Eliot
Immensely difficult to get into. Bought a cheap version on a whim.

London Fields, Martin Amis
Purchased for some unit or other. Have since developed a dislike for the man which puts me off reading it.

The Time Traveller's Wife, Audrey Niffenegger
Was in a 3 for 2 and never got around to reading it.

Mary Barton, Elizabeth Gaskell
Recommended text for my Victorian unit but couldn't find time to read it.

True Tales of American Life, ed Paul Scott
Recommended text for one of my units. Never got round to it.

A Journal of the Plague Year, Daniel Defoe
Bought on a whim, never found time to read it.

The Mill on the Floss, George Eliot
Fancied reading more of her work after finishing Silas Marner but it failed to grab me.

Adam Bede, George Eliot
Has the distinction of being the first classic I bought of my own free will. Alas, I never read the thing.

The Waves, Virginia Woolf
Exceptionally difficult to get into, even for a Modernist text. I gave up after a few pages.

So...what do you think? Any books in the list I should bump to my TBR pile? Oh, and as a final note, for years my dad's copy of Ulysses (never read) came in useful as just the right thickness to keep the dresser without a foot from wobbling. All great books have their uses!

Book Review: 31 Bond Street by Ellen Horan

It's with a little trepidation that I write this review. After all, the book is actually very good in many important ways. However, I just couldn't feel the enthusiasm for it that I wanted to.

31 Bond Street draws on the real-life murder of Dr Harvey Burdell in New York in 1857. Horan's focus is on Henry Clinton, the lawyer who takes on the case of housekeeper, Emma Cunningham, when she is arrested and charged with the murder. The action is split between the court case and the events leading up to the murder, meaning that there are several principle characters over the course of the book.

Horan's ingenuity is evident in the invocation of the New York setting, detailed at just the right level of specific, and the use of the chapters set prior to the murder. She unravels the mess of Burdell's life in the past as she shows Henry Clinton's efforts to save his client in the present. This certainly prevents the court proceedings from becoming stale, as something revealed in a flashback chapter directly influences the way the reader approaches the following chapters. However, one criticism I have of the structure is the book is that it doesn't start consistently from the beginning of the book. While I understand the need to immerse the reader in the murder and detail Henry Clinton getting involved in the case, when the novel does settle down to a structure which draws on the past to influence the perception of the present, I found myself a little disorientated. However, this could easily have been a personal reaction, because the chapters were well-labelled and you're aware of where you are in the narrative timeline.

I suppose my main criticism of the novel stems from the Daily Mail review excerpt quoted on the cover which suggests that it's a book for those who enjoyed The Suspicions of Mr Whicher by Kate Summerscale. I don't think it is. Summerscale documents a murder in an analytical but very readable manner. Horan reproduces the fact of the Burdell murder and uses several real-life figures from the case to tell her tale. However, she creates several characters and alters the timing of the marriage of Henry Clinton in order to give him a wife to complement him and assist him. The extent of her fictional liberties are explained in an author's note towards the end, but I think if I'd gone into the book knowing about them it would've made my reading experience a lot more enjoyable. By comparing the novel with The Suspicions of Mr Whicher, the front cover conveys something which the book can't live up to because it wasn't trying to. Horan takes a mysterious case and makes a story out of it. If she'd framed it completely as a work of fiction, it would've been a fantastic read. As it was, the blend between historical fact and fiction didn't sit well with me.

I will say, though, that Horan's depiction of her invented characters was exceptional. Looking back at the end, I'd noticed that two of the characters I'd felt most affinity with were fictional inventions - Clinton's wife, Elisabeth, and Burdell's driver, Samuel. Those two were fully-fleshed out and a joy to read about. I'm not sure if Horan struggled to paste personalities onto real-life people but I certainly came out of the book with a stronger sense of who the fictional Elisabeth Clinton was than her real-life husband.

All in all, I failed to enjoy this book because I went into it with different expectations. Try reading the author's note before you get started and you might have a completely different experience.

Pet Names

To avoid any confusion, I'm talking about 'names for pets' in this post. Not 'pet names' such as 'snuggles', 'cuddles', 'arsenic', and 'bulldozer'. That's a whole different category and one that could make everyone feel rather nauseous. No, I've been thinking a lot lately about animal names and their relationship to fiction: how do you decide what to call your pets and, more importantly, how do characters?

So far in my novel drafts I've only included one pet. There's an excellent piece of advice in some book somewhere that warns writers not to include animals without an exceptional reason. They can be self-indulgent little things that do nothing apart from hold up your plot and, when you forget about them, can leave the reader wondering where the fluffy kitten is and whether you did actually leave it in the burning building. The cat in my novel serves a few purposes, or at least I believe she does. I may be being self-indulgent. But Meg gives my protagonist something to get up for in the morning, she gives her something to talk to, and she serves to illuminate aspects of character by her preference for certain characters over others. As a cat person, I have to say that a cat's opinion can occasionally sway me in something like that. Yes... I know.

But why the name Meg? Well, my protagonist found the cat as a stray and gave her a human name to make her part of her hitherto single-person family. The old saying goes that if you give a cat a human name it becomes more human in your eyes. Now, I don't know what our pet names say about us as a family.

My cat, who unfortunately died last week, was called Stalin. Her sister, who passed away a few months ago was called Vlad. These cats were originally my sister's but part of her agreement to get them dictated my mother should have a say in the names. And she was kind of into her history. I have to say, whereas Vlad was a softie, Stal lived up to her name on some occasions. But not as much as the first cat I remember - Beast. Now, she was a stray and a very violent scrappy cat. I was scratched more than I care to remember when I was younger by that darling. She had a particularly amusing game of hanging around on the kitchen country ready to leap onto the back of our poor, unsuspecting doggy. She was originally called (embarrassing moment coming up) Icolbit, because a child who shall remain nameless couldn't speak and wanted her to come over 'a little bit'. However, 'Beast' was a much more appropriate name for her.

We've had two dogs in my lifetime. Paddy, probably a whippet crossed with something it really shouldn't have been crossed with, was a rescue dog. The first day we got him he ran from the house into the middle of a busy road because he was scared. I'm not sure the car helped his fear much. However, one metal plate later and he was perfectly happy. He still shook at anything, even a raised voice, but he was the most docile, friendly dog you could encounter. When he died my mother was heartbroken, and made the decision to go check out a puppy next door to one of my aunts the very same day. So we ended up with Rosie, a Cairn crossed with a Westie... we think. She's highly excitable and we're currently having some problems with her because she misses Stalin terribly. Once Beast died she became attached to Vlad and when Vlad died she latched onto Stal. She's now lost and confused and thinks we're going to leave her every time we leave the dining room. Rosie was my name choice, and not for very pleasant reasons either. There was a stuck-up girl I hated at school, part of a set who loved the look of themselves in a mirror. Naming my dog after one of them seemed to be the ultimate revenge at the time. Ahem. I promise I have grown up since then.

We've had an array of animals in my family. Maud, a grey long-eared rabbit; Norman, a brown and white rat; Noel and Liam, my brother's budgies. Plus an assortment of mice, rabbits and fish whose names escape me. But, for the most part, they were all part of the family - that is, they were named as if they were part of the family.

I know that including pets in fiction should be avoided if they're just going to be an issue of cuteness and irritation to the reader. But think of Fang in the Harry Potter series: whenever Hagrid was in his hut I wanted to know where the dog was because he was a vivid character in my mind. He helped define Hagrid. Where would Count Fosco be in The Woman in White without his assortment of mice and birds? The attention he pays to them highlights a peculiar edge to his character. And, in the world of television, where would Martin Crane be without his dog, Eddie? Animals can help define and shape character as much as they can annoy the audience by their constant interruptions. The key as a writer is to know when you're indulging yourself and when you're indulging the requirements of the plot or scene.

Book Review: The Love of Good Women by Isabel Miller

I came across this book after Brighton Blogger reviewed it back in February for the LGBT Reading Challenge 2011 (which is what I'm reviewing it for now!). I liked the idea of the book so much that I ordered it immediately. Although it wasn't completely what I was expecting I enjoyed it nonetheless.

Isabel Miller was the pseudonym used by Alma Routsong, an American born in 1924. The Love of Good Women was first published in 1986 and tells the story of Gertrude and Milly, women married to two brothers, Earl and Barney respectively. It's set as WWII is wrapping up and essentially follows Gertrude as she unexpectedly finds independence from her domineering husband. That journey takes her to a factory where she makes friends along with her own money. The story is a typical belated coming-of-age narrative, but the one thing that really set it apart for me was Miller's tremendous use of dialogue.

Gertrude and Milly came alive for me through the dialogue. I realise that's how fiction should work but I was surprised by the ease of slipping into 1940s American speech for me. Occasionally it jars but I think it's supposed to. I particularly enjoyed the scenes with Gertrude and her factory friends and the way all the characters sounded unique and yet not unrealistic. Miller's narrative method is very specific, focusing on individual scenes and details which add depth to the overall piece. The book is only a few hundred pages long but I felt as though I'd lived with the characters for much longer than that. It's split into three books, one from Milly's perspective sandwiched in between two from Gertrude's, and has a foreword and postscript from Milly.

On the very first page, Miller had me, as Milly expresses something most people, gay or straight, can relate to: "But Milly had learned to get the good of love, the wonderful leap and sweetness in the chest during the little while when it wasn't committably insane to hope." Come on... who doesn't relate?

Amazon page for The Love of Good Women is here.

I read this for the LGBT Reading Challenge 2011 (see sidebar for details).

Book Review: Lasting Damage by Sophie Hannah

There are only two authors whose books I would rush out to buy on the day of release. Generally, I can starve myself until the paperback comes out but not with Sarah Waters or Sophie Hannah. I got very excited when I saw Hannah's latest was coming out, so much so that I pre-ordered a book for the first time in my life. I wasn't disappointed.

Lasting Damage springboards from this premise: a woman looking at a virtual tour on a property website sees a dead woman on the screen. When her husband comes to look he doesn't see what she saw. There begins a tale that races towards the finishing point described in the short prologue.

The sensation I always get when reading Hannah's books is that I'm running along behind a bus trying desperately to jump on. Like John Truitt in Meet Me In St. Louis, if you don't mind the analogy. Except that each time I get reasonably close to leaping on the bus swerves away. That's what following Hannah's plots feels like. After reading five previous books I feel I should have a good idea of where things are going, or at least be able to decipher probables, but I find it impossible. Hannah is a master at leading you in one direction, only for you to realise later on that she led you that way for a reason, though not the one you thought at the time. Her first-person narration from Connie's perspective certainly helps this effect. Connie Bowskill is another of those characters who you want to trust and like but she's a bit on the unstable side. Hannah takes the unreliable narrator, as she does in all her books, and utilises it to its full potential.

For fans of the series there are plenty of serial elements in the police chapters to interest, which doesn't alienate new readers. Charlie Zailer and Simon Waterhouse are as dysfunctional a couple as ever and, although they begin the novel on their honeymoon, it's almost inevitable that they don't stay there. Further complications are thrown into the mix with the brief return of a face from an earlier book and a subplot involving Charlie's sister, Olivia, which causes all sorts of problems. If I've one complaint it's that this subplot dominates the early portion of the book then peters off. I understand why - at that point the main storyline is so complex that nothing should distract from it - but it was still something I noticed. However, I don't doubt that it'll definitely come up in the next book.

Are there parts of Lasting Damage I didn't like? To be honest, no. Hannah's got such a grip on her police characters (and an amazing knack for portraying unbalanced people) that characterisation wasn't a problem. The resolution to the main storyline leaves you thinking back over the entire book. Now, that's not a bad thing, but it does mean at some point I'm going to have to satisfy my urge to read all six books again! I'm always torn between reading slowly and absorbing everything or galloping ahead in order to reach the conclusion. Re-reading is a good option to add to those.

Again, I would recommend that anyone unfamiliar with Hannah starts at the beginning of her fantastic series, but the book is accessible to those who don't. I started at book four and worked my way backwards and I'm okay!

A previous review of Hurting Distance, the second book in series, can be found here.

I've blogged about reading the series backwards here.

Lasting Damage is available to buy here.

Book Review: Landing by Emma Donoghue

I read this as part of my mission for the LGBT Reading Challenge 2011 (see logo on sidebar for details). As a consequence I didn't discriminate against the book. I believe I could've easily talked myself out of buying it if I'd tried. As it happens, I'm glad I didn't.

Donoghue is a very accessible writer. She doesn't sanitise her language so if a swear word is appropriate then a swear word is used. This certainly helps the authenticity of her characters and gives the book an altogether more adult feel than the plot alone might suggest.

Landing tells the story of two women, Jude (living in Canada) and Sile (pronounced Sheelagh, living in Ireland). They meet on a plane journey when Jude is travelling to England to bring back her sick mother. Sile is a stewardess on the plane and the two are initially brought together by an unexpected incident on board. From this they grow to know each other and ultimately end up in a long distance relationship, separated both by the Atlantic and their individual lives.

Donoghue paints her characters extremely vividly at the beginning of the novel. Primarily, she manages this by showing their interactions with the people in their established lives. Aside from demonstrating character this also shows the power of the relationship into which they later fall because these interactions inevitably alter. There are perhaps too many of these secondary characters to know intimately but that could be an attention problem on the part of this particular reader.

What struck me was the poignancy of the book. It so accurately depicts the issues surrounding long distance relationships and why they can't immediately be resolved. It seems loaded with pearls of wisdom that could probably conspire to make their very own self-help guide but they don't feel too preachy when slotted into the novel as a whole.

It is a very readable book which draws on human insecurities and desires. At one point Jude and Sile keep missing each other and are forced to leave a series of frustrated messages on the answering machine. Anybody ever compelled to spend time away from the one they love will easily identify with that sequence.

It isn't a novel that will raise any profound questions. At its core is the idea of identity and whether separating yourself from a certain place fractures who you are. It is also a clever love story and I can certainly see myself rereading it in the future.

Landing is available to purchase here.

LGBT Reading Challenge 2011

I've been skimming over the various challenges doing the rounds for the swiftly-approaching year and avoiding them through a sense of self-preservation. After all, I don't have time to participate in any old thing, not with the mound of work already climbing up to insurmountable heights before the first of the year.

However, I do need some relaxation time and if that time is earning me a tick on an imaginary list then all the better. So I'm going to take part in this challenge, use it to inspire my own writing, and discover some excellent books along the way.

I doubt I'll manage one a month but I'll stick that down as my goal.

For more information about the challenge go to this address.

Caution: Wet Paint

I wonder how many people in a hundred feel the urge to touch anything labelled ‘wet paint’, just to make sure it's wet. I do – every time. So far common sense has mostly won out and I haven’t actually stroked a window sill with a warning sign above it, but I have dragged my fingers lightly across the edge.

Human beings are naturally inquisitive creatures. However, something we have to remember as writers is that we’re a little more inclined to be nosy. Our characters might share some of our impulses to touch the things we’re told or advised not to but it’s possible they would draw the line before you. An old woman cautiously weaving through the crowds on the pavement might just be concerned she’ll be pressed against the paint and that it might stain her nice beige coat. Equally, a bouncy six year-old with a more adventurous spirit might run up and plop his hand straight into the squidgy mess. It’s all a matter of character – again!

Offering small snippets of everyday occurrences like the wet paint scenario in the course of a novel, particularly towards the beginning, give the reader actual experience of how that character behaves. It’s the old adage of showing not telling. At the same time, though, be careful that you’re not inserting this information in a contrived manner. Everything in your novel should contribute in some way to the plot so don’t have a completely irrelevant scene where your protagonist juggles knives to demonstrate his fearlessness.

If I was to insert the wet paint example into my current WIP, for example, I’d have my protagonist, Lily, running the back of her hand across the window sill. But this derives from a number of factors. Lily’s a painter. As such, she has an idea when paint may be dry enough to touch safely. In addition to that, she spends most of the novel focusing on the world around her because she doesn’t want to face up to her own life. To someone intent on looking out instead of in the thought of touching something unpredictable can be extremely enticing.

There are certainly a few questions you need to ask yourself before you insert a demonstrative scene into your WIP.

1. Does this scene add to your plot? If I was to have Lily indulging in the wet paint scenario it would be on her way to a pivotal scene at the local bar and maybe it would show her anxiety or attempts not to think about the things really worrying her.

2. If your character is going to do something a little strange is it in character? Lily's an artist so in the paint scenario it would be plausible.

3. Is this for your benefit of the benefit of the plot, character and reader? Never ever let it be for you!

All In The Chemistry

Last night I was watching one of my all-time favourite films, Victor/Victoria starring Julie Andrews, James Garner and Robert Preston.

For anyone who doesn't know the plot this is it in a nutshell: Victoria (Andrews) is a down-and-out singer in Paris, 1934. While trying to get a free dinner (by letting a cockroach loose in the salad, of course) she makes the acquaintance of Carol 'Toddy' Todd (Preston), gay and recently unemployed himself. When Victoria's clothes shrink in the rain Toddy gets the chance to see her dressed as a man and has a wonderful idea - if she can't make it as a female singer she'll make a splash as a female impersonator instead. It's simple really: a woman pretending to be a man pretending to be a woman. All goes well until Victoria falls for tough nightclub owner, King Marchand (Garner).

The best thing for me in this movie (apart from the exquisite score) is the palpable chemistry, not between Andrews and Garner but between Andrews and Preston. Some relationships in films just work, whether they're romantic or not, and this one most definitely did. But it got me thinking: chemistry in film is so easy to spot... but what about chemistry on the page? Writing fiction where the characters seem like more than cardboard cut-outs speaking opposite each other is a difficult task.

One definition of chemistry is 'a natural mutual rapport'. It's easy to see why it's more complicated to spot in a novel: actors have the benefit of gazing into each other's eyes whereas when an author writes something to that effect nine times out of ten it comes across as cheesy and contrived. So are there any methods of inducing chemistry to join your work?

One thing I'm trying at the moment is looking at character models and finding their polar opposites because, after all, opposites do attract. The book I'm referring to as far as archetypal models go is 45 Master Characters by Victoria Lynn Schmidt. It's a good, no-nonsense book about mythic models with references to examples for each type. For instance, the Seductive Muse archetype is documented with examples such as Sally Bowles (Cabaret), Samantha Jones (Sex and the City) and Scarlett O'Hara (Gone With the Wind). The beauty of this book for me is that it gives you real references to work from. I can often imagine who my character is like but having a model on hand to consult usually helps me round the character out a little more.

Then comes the chemistry bit. Schmidt suggests that the natural pairings to the Seductive Muse are the Woman's Man, the Messiah, the Recluse and Mystic, or the Amazon. All have different qualities of their own and depending on what your particular story requires you pick the relevant option. It might seem a little too character-by-numbers and constrained for some people but remember it's only a starting point.

If you have two characters who have some relationship in that they either contradict or compliment each other then you have the basis for chemistry I think.

As for a couple of examples about the chemistry I've spotted in novels: Lily Bart and Lawrence Selden in Edith Wharton's The House of Mirth, Maud and Sue in Sarah Waters' Fingersmith, and Walter Hartright and Marian Halcombe in The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins are a few of my favourites.

The fact that only one of those couples ended up together is incidental. Victoria didn't end up with Toddy, after all, but their rapport still remains the highlight of the film each time I watch it.

Con-Dem: A Lesson For Fiction Writers

Whatever your political affiliations, if you live in the UK you're probably in something of a state of shock. Before the election last week I don't know many people who foresaw the conclusion: a cross-party coalition that draws Right and Left together? Barmy! But there's a lesson in this for fiction writers.

Sometimes, just sometimes, it's alright to team up with the bad guy.

I like most of my characters. I think they share a lot of my potentially OTT values and self-righteous ideas which can mean I fence myself into implausible plot scenarios. Alright, in general my characters are moral but if faced with big choices would they really make the right one?

My personal opinions on the new political coalition aside, no one can doubt the difficult decision Lib Dem leader Nick Clegg had to make. Sell himself (as it was seen by many critics) to the Conservative party for a few hollow promises or try to align himself with the failing Labour party? Either way he was going to lose some popularity.

As it is with your fictional creations.

My latest project involves a bomb threat and a woman trying to do the right thing in a difficult situation. The thing is, as much as I want her to be moral and stand up for her beliefs (and as much as she does), there has to be a point where she wants to side with the bad guy, so to speak. If someone offers you life over death even the most moral amongst us will consider it.

Will readers respect her for making the perceived 'wrong' choice? No. But she may have to, if only to appease that problematic thing called being true to your character.

It remains to be seen what a Conservative/Liberal coalition means for British politics. But I'm taking heart in the fact I've managed to pull one lesson for myself out of this mess.