Book Review: The Lost by Sarah Beth Durst

The Lost (The Lost #1) by Sarah Beth Durst
Genre: Fantasy/ Mythic Fiction
Publisher: Harlequin/Mira
Date Published: May 2014
Author Information: Goodreads | Website | Twitter
Star Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Blurb (from Goodreads): It was only meant to be a brief detour. But then Lauren finds herself trapped in a town called Lost on the edge of a desert, filled with things abandoned, broken and thrown away. And when she tries to escape, impassable dust storms and something unexplainable lead her back to Lost again and again. The residents she meets there tell her she's going to have to figure out just what she's missing--and what she's running from--before she can leave. So now Lauren's on a new search for a purpose and a destiny. And maybe, just maybe, she'll be found...

Against the backdrop of this desolate and mystical town, Sarah Beth Durst writes an arresting, fantastical novel of one woman's impossible journey...and her quest to find her fate.


Why I read it: The blurb looked intriguing, and I loved the cover. Happily the novel was as good as I expected!

My thoughts:

I really liked this one.

It begins with somebody called Lauren driving out of town, doing her best to ignore her life. She doesn’t call in sick. She doesn’t let her mother know she’ll be home late. She just leaves. It’s a very quiet breakdown: a lone girl speeding in a car on the highway, shutting off the static on the radio because listening seems “self-consciously melodramatic.” Still, it’s dangerous to go on such escapades when there is magic realism afoot, as our heroine Lauren later ends up trapped in a little town called Lost – seemingly the home of all the abandoned and misplaced things in America.

Honestly? It’s a great start to a good novel.

Lost itself was brilliant. It’s described like one of those American hick towns you only see in the movies: just another town in the middle of nowhere, complete with dirty motel and run-down diner. However, Lost’s suburbs are made up of abandoned and foreclosed houses, and the streets are dangerous. They’re patrolled by feral dogs; littered with trash, odd socks, and broken glass. There’s no escape – beyond Lost, there’s only desert, and a soul-destroying dust storm. And yes, I mean that literally.

Lauren is understandably pissed when she works out what’s happening – she doesn’t want to be stranded in a settlement that shouldn’t even exist, not when her mother is sick at home. She’s made increasingly unhappy when the Missing Man, the only person with the power to return people to their lives, disappears. This forces her to team up with Claire the knife-wielding six year old (who is completely unrealistic but adorable all the same) and a guy named Peter, who I’ll talk about later. On the whole, though, I really liked Lauren. She made good choices in this book, and was generally very competent in a subdued, undramatic way that I found appealing. It’s mostly for her that I’m so excited about the sequel.

However, underpinning this book is a romance… and this had problems! Peter is described as arty rebel boy: a good-looking, tattooed fellow who favours the colour black and is exactly Lauren’s type. So far, so good. But a huge power imbalance quickly develops between the two of them. Lauren is a newcomer to Lost. She doesn’t know how to scavenge and survive on the fringes; she hasn’t the faintest clue about the lay of the land and the local inhabitants. Peter, however, has lived in Lost for years. He’s also MUCH older than her (and possibly not human?). Worse, he has some creeptastic tendencies - like sleeping in her wardrobe without permission, and regularly putting her down because “he likes her”. To be fair, both the narrative and Lauren call him out on some of this behaviour, but not consistently. (Although I admit I still enjoyed their budding romance despite this.)

A note on diversity: There’s a decent mix of genders here. All the main characters seem to be white, although one semi-important secondary character (Victoria the waitress) is described as having rich brown skin. There’s also no queer content: all relationships are heterosexual ones, and everyone appears cisgender. This strikes me as a wasted opportunity for a town of “lost” people, and I hope we’ll see a wider range of people in the sequel.

But those complaints aside, I really enjoyed this novel. It was well-written, and even made me cry at one stage! The overall worldbuilding and uses of magic were very metaphorical, but if you’re a fan of magical realism, I would definitely recommend this.

I received a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. 

Thanks Netgalley & Harlequin!

Book Review: The Assassin's Apprentice by Robin Hobb

Title: The Assassin’s Apprentice (Farseer Trilogy #1)
Author: Robin Hobb
Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: Voyager
Date Published: March 1996
Source: Bought
Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Blurb (taken from Goodreads): In a faraway land where members of the royal family are named for the virtues they embody, one young boy will become a walking enigma.

Born on the wrong side of the sheets, Fitz, son of Chivalry Farseer, is a royal bastard, cast out into the world, friendless and lonely. Only his magical link with animals - the old art known as the Wit - gives him solace and companionship. But the Wit, if used too often, is a perilous magic, and one abhorred by the nobility.

So when Fitz is finally adopted into the royal household, he must give up his old ways and embrace a new life of weaponry, scribing, courtly manners; and how to kill a man secretly, as he trains to become a royal assassin.

Why I read it: 

I’ve never read anything by Robin Hobb, which is pretty terrible. So I decided to change that. This book seemed like a good place to start, especially considering Fool’s Assassin is coming out later this year.

My thoughts:

In many ways, The Assassin’s Apprentice is rather conventional. It’s set in the Six Duchies, a united (and medieval) kingdom with a smidge of magic. The protagonist is young, male, and somewhat magical. He also has royal blood, at least on his father’s side. So far, so traditional, right? Still, I’d be inclined to call this book classic rather than cliché because omg it was just that good.

The main character was (the) Fitz. A talented lad, he is trained as a stablehand, scribe, and assassin. This furnishes him with all sorts of useful skills – reading, writing, riding, biology/gardening, fighting, sneaking and others – to manipulate a situation to his favour. However, Fitz is a decent lad and not a cold-hearted killer. A lot of the book shows how incredibly isolated he is at court (can’t be easy growing up a royal bastard), and the doubts he has over his profession and general place in the world. It’s compelling reading. In fact, the only thing I disliked about Fitz was his use of the Wit.  I’m sorry, but I just find magic that lets humans bond telepathically with animals boring. 

The secondary characters were also great. I was surprised how much I liked Verity, Fitz’s royal uncle and second in line for the throne. Burrich the stablehand definitely grew on me too. However, I was also disappointed by the scarcity of women in this book. It’s not to say that it was badly written – none of the ladies we met seemed like stereotypes, and some were capable and confident characters. But for the majority of this book, Fitz doesn’t interact with any of them. He knows women who are unimportant servants or self-indulgent nobles, but their lives hardly touch his. Fortunately, this tendency lessens a bit near the end. I’m hoping the second and third books won’t suffer the same problem though: this trilogy looks like it will be great fun, and I want to be swept away in it instead of nitpicking at the gender politics.

I loved the plot too. There’s a lot of court politicking, which I always enjoy. There’s also some interesting stuff going on with the raiders harrying the shores of the Six Duchies, although I don’t want to say too much about that because spoilers. Beyond the Wit (yawn) there is also a nifty form of magic called the Skill, which looks like it will be explored more in later novels. Basically, I am getting pretty invested and can’t wait to read more of it. And I’m only on Book 1!

Highly recommended. This book really deserves 5 stars, but I’m stealing one because of the regrettable lack of ladies. Still an awesome novel though.

Book Review: The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison

Title: The Goblin Emperor
Author: Katherine Addison (aka Sarah Monette)
Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: Tor
Date Published: April 2014
Source: Bought
Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Blurb (taken from Goodreads): The youngest, half-goblin son of the Emperor has lived his entire life in exile, distant from the Imperial Court and the deadly intrigue that suffuses it. But when his father and three sons in line for the throne are killed in an "accident," he has no choice but to take his place as the only surviving rightful heir.

Entirely unschooled in the art of court politics, he has no friends, no advisors, and the sure knowledge that whoever assassinated his father and brothers could make an attempt on his life at any moment.

Surrounded by sycophants eager to curry favor with the naïve new emperor, and overwhelmed by the burdens of his new life, he can trust nobody. Amid the swirl of plots to depose him, offers of arranged marriages, and the specter of the unknown conspirators who lurk in the shadows, he must quickly adjust to life as the Goblin Emperor. All the while, he is alone, and trying to find even a single friend... and hoping for the possibility of romance, yet also vigilant against the unseen enemies that threaten him, lest he lose his throne – or his life.

This exciting fantasy novel, set against the pageantry and color of a fascinating, unique world, is a memorable debut for a great new talent.

Why I read it: 

It felt like the entire blogosphere was raving about this book, plus I love fantasy novels with a heavy political element. A match made in heaven? 

My thoughts:

I think I would have enjoyed this one more if I’d known nothing about it. It was good, sure. But I wasn’t blown away by it, and I expected to be.

The concept is a simple one. We have an elven land ruled by a powerful emperor. But when a freak "accident" kills him and his first three heirs – the only ones trained for the crown – the mantle of power falls to Maia, whose goblin blood saw him exiled from the court at a young age. Maia may be the Emperor's last remaining heir, but he's also a half-blood upstart with only a rudimentary understanding of court politics and no clue how to rule. 

It’s an interesting set-up. A lot of it works simply because Maia is so nice. An introvert thrown into the deep-end (and honestly, I couldn’t imagine a worse job for somebody who doesn’t appreciate small talk and needs time alone), he tries to make things work because – well – it’s his country, and therefore his duty, to do the best he can to hold things together. The next in line for the throne is only a child, and (as Maia frequently reminds himself) child emperors rarely rule well. So he preserves ever onwards.

However, it also wasn’t the book I was expecting. I kept hearing that this book was a deeply political novel, and imagined a court filled with Terre D’Ange style machinations. And hell, this court probably was. But we don’t see any of it. As emperor, Maia is sequestered away from his people; he has courtiers to do his politicking for him. His job is simply to rule, to pick and juggle the options presented to him, to remember titles and customs and obscure bits of etiquette. The result is a very earnest novel – one that was superbly written, but also a bit slow at times. It examines Maia's loneliness, and his struggle to connect and trust while maintaining the stature required of a good emperor. All interesting, but I couldn't help wanting to know more about the manoeuvrings going on behind the scenes.

A note on the names: There is a glossary at the end of the book. I wish I’d flicked to this early in the novel. When I finally read through, I realised just how much of the nuance I was missing in the titles.

So there you have it. The Goblin Emperor was thoughtful, straightforward and good, much like its protagonist. I also found it disappointing because it didn’t quite live up to its hype for me (despite still being a very well-wrought story).

Book Review: A Stranger in Olondria by Sofia Samatar

Title: A Stranger in Olondria
Author: Sofia Samatar
Genre: Fantasy
Publisher: Small Beer Press
Date Published: April 2013
Ranking: 4 out of 5 stars

Blurb (taken from Goodreads): Jevick, the pepper merchant's son, has been raised on stories of Olondria, a distant land where books are as common as they are rare in his home. When his father dies and Jevick takes his place on the yearly selling trip to Olondria, Jevick's life is as close to perfect as he can imagine. But just as he revels in Olondria's Rabelaisian Feast of Birds, he is pulled drastically off course and becomes haunted by the ghost of an illiterate young girl.

In desperation, Jevick seeks the aid of Olondrian priests and quickly becomes a pawn in the struggle between the empire's two most powerful cults. Yet even as the country shimmers on the cusp of war, he must face his ghost and learn her story before he has any chance of becoming free by setting her free: an ordeal that challenges his understanding of art and life, home and exile, and the limits of that seductive necromancy, reading.

A Stranger in Olondria is a skillful and immersive debut fantasy novel that pulls the reader in deeper and deeper with twists and turns reminiscent of George R. R. Martin and Joe Hill.

Why I read it:  

I picked it up in a bookstore when I was on holiday in New Zealand and was entranced by the writing. I later saw it had been nominated for a Nebula, so I bought it.

My thoughts:

The blurb for A Stranger of Olondria outlines (or possibly, spoils) the plot of the entire novel. I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing or not, as this book seems much more about the writing and personal growth the characters than anything as prosaic as the plot.

It starts off almost like a travelogue, describing Jevick’s privileged childhood in the scorching village of Tyom. As the heir of his father’s wealth, Jevick is tutored not by a local, but an Olondrian. His father has two reasons for hiring a foreigner: he hopes his son will never be cheated by merchants over the sea, and revels in the status hiring an Olondrian brings. However, Jevick gets something different out of the lessons – he learns how to read.

Yes, this is another book about the pleasures of reading, featuring a protagonist who is more than a bibliophile than I am. But underlying that is the knowledge that Jevick comes from The Tea Islands, where almost everyone is illiterate because stories are passed on orally. For him, reading is akin to magic… but it’s also (maybe?) a colonial act. In any case, it rapidly entrances Jevick; he becomes fascinated by Olondrian culture and alienated from his own, creating a tension that drives a lot of the novel.

Yet after Jevick finally reaches Bain, Olondria’s capital – “the Harbour City, whose lights and colours spill into the ocean like a cataract of roses” – the story takes a startling turn, for Jevick becomes haunted by an angel. This was so unexpected I had trouble believing it at first, for it dramatically alters both the tone of the novel and Jevick’s life. It is also the only real mention of magic in the entire book. Unfortunately, Olondria has forbidden the worship of angels, placing Jevick in an awkward position: outlawed by the society he idolises, but with little hope of escape. What happens afterwards is incredibly interesting, although I won’t spoil it more than the blurb already has.

I actually loved the world Samatar created here. Throughout the novel, we get drip-fed snippets of history and literature, along with beautiful descriptions which I plan to quote later. It’s clear that Olondria is a complex place with myriad cultures and fraught religious systems, for all the story steers away from the many of the underlying issues it raises. This is largely due to the protagonists – one a scholar and dreamer; the other, dead – who only explore the world through their (rather limited) viewpoints. I’m not sure if this is a flaw or not. It was definitely a deliberate choice, and results in a powerful story. I did want to see more of Olondria though.

When I first started reading, I spent quite a while trying to link The Tea Islands & Olondria to their earthly inspirations. I later gave up. There are plenty of descriptions to tide you along; quantifying Samatar’s main influences isn’t that important.  I admit I’m still curious about the world (mostly in regards to the brewing religious strife) but this is probably because tempted to run a short RPG set in Olondria. I think my gaming group would enjoy it.

Also - the writing in this book was amazing. Here we have a nautical morning:

The air was cold, the sea restless; the boat danced at the end of her tether like a foal.

Here a palace:

We passed the famous palace of Feilinhu, standing in nacreous grandeur against the dark lace of its woods… 

Here a girl:

I thought of her playing with her friends, and I could see her so clearly: satin-eyed, dictatorial.

And here I will stop quoting despite the masses of underlined passages I have on my Kindle. But rest assured: pretty much all the prose is like this.

What else can I say? This was a great book. It’s also one of those absorbing, time-destroying novels. I almost gave up on it because the plot moves at a very deliberate (aka slow!) pace, but I’m incredibly glad I didn’t. There are some interesting themes and stunning sentences, but more importantly, a very satisfying ending… resulting in a cohesive and worthwhile read overall. 

Book Review: Sarah's Key by Tatiana De Rosnay

Title: Sarah’s Key
Author: Tatiana de Rosnay
Genre: Historical/ Contemporary
Publisher: St Martin’s Griffin
Published: 2007
Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Blurb (taken from Goodreads): Paris, July 1942: Sarah, a ten year-old girl, is brutally arrested with her family by the French police in the Vel' d'Hiv' roundup, but not before she locks her younger brother in a cupboard in the family's apartment, thinking that she will be back within a few hours.

Paris, May 2002: On Vel' d'Hiv's 60th anniversary, journalist Julia Jarmond is asked to write an article about this black day in France's past. Through her contemporary investigation, she stumbles onto a trail of long-hidden family secrets that connect her to Sarah. Julia finds herself compelled to retrace the girl's ordeal, from that terrible term in the Vel d'Hiv', to the camps, and beyond. As she probes into Sarah's past, she begins to question her own place in France, and to reevaluate her marriage and her life.

Why I read it: 
A friend gave this to me years ago and it’s been sitting on my bookshelf ever since. I figured now would be a good time to get around to it!

Thoughts:

The historical framework underlying Sarah’s Key is grim. It concerns the 1942 Vel D’Hiv roundup, where French policemen arrested over 13,000 Jewish familes in Paris. Women & children made up most of the detainees (a lot of men had gone into hiding, but expected their families to be safe). Confined in a large velodrome for the better part of a week, police later shipped their victims off to concentration camps. Most were gassed at Auschwitz. Before reading this novel, I’d never even heard of the incident (although I’m neither French nor a historian, so perhaps that’s not surprising). Either way, it’s unbelievably horrible – although the book itself is quite good.

Most of the novel shifts between two viewpoints. The first is Sarah’s:  a sheltered 10-year-old Jewish girl, who gets arrested by French police at the start of the novel. However the main character is really Julia - an American journalist living in Paris, a woman working on an article to mark the sixtieth commemoration of the Vel D’hiv incident.

Sarah’s story is harrowing. When the police pound at the door in the night, she locks her 2-year-old brother in a cupboard to protect him. (You can probably work out what happens next. It’s not pretty.) However, Sarah doesn’t understand what’s happening as the authorities spirit her away; her parents never explained the political reality of the day, to her extreme detriment. I thought it was a pity she was so ignorant. As a teacher, I know kids that age can have surprising insight… although I also realise it would be an extremely awkward conversation.

Julia’s story is interesting enough. I didn’t really care about her failing marriage, but her relationship with her daughter (much more open than the one Sarah had with her parents) and her life as an expat in Paris were fascinating. I’ve never lived in Paris, but I’ve passed through there quite a lot, and the city seemed incredibly well-described. The throw-away comments about bakeries, tourists, the different arrondissments and expat magazines all rang true – although I did think Tatiana de Rosnay overused italicised French words occasionally. I speak the language so it wasn’t a problem for me, but other readers might find it frustrating.

The only other thing that bothered me about this book (aside from the fact I was reading a print copy!) were the very short chapters, and the fact that Sarah’s and Julie’s stories are told in different fonts. I found it jarring at first, but as the stories progressed I soon stopped noticing. So only a minor quibble…

Overall? This was an easy-to-read (and occasionally devastating) novel. I really enjoyed it.

Book Review: Somewhere in France by Jennifer Robson

Title: Somewhere in France
Author: Jennifer Robson
Genre: Historical Romance
Published: William Morrow & Company
Date Published: December 2013
Ranking: 4 out of 5 stars

Goodreads Summary:
Lady Elizabeth Neville-Ashford wants to travel the world, pursue a career, and marry for love. But in 1914, the stifling restrictions of aristocratic British society and her mother’s rigid expectations forbid Lily from following her heart. When war breaks out, the spirited young woman seizes her chance for independence. Defying her parents, she moves to London and eventually becomes an ambulance driver in the newly formed Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps—an exciting and treacherous job that takes her close to the Western Front.

Assigned to a field hospital in France, Lily is reunited with Robert Fraser, her dear brother Edward’s best friend. The handsome Scottish surgeon has always encouraged Lily’s dreams. She doesn’t care that Robbie grew up in poverty—she yearns for their friendly affection to become something more. Lily is the most beautiful—and forbidden—woman Robbie has ever known. Fearful for her life, he’s determined to keep her safe, even if it means breaking her heart.

In a world divided by class, filled with uncertainty and death, can their hope for love survive. . . or will it become another casualty of this tragic war?

Why I read it:
I’ve read a lot of mediocre fantasy recently, and was craving something different. A book about an ambulance-driving WWI heroine seemed to fit the bill.

My Review:

Oh, this one was good. I loved almost everything about it – the setting, the characters, the central romance.

Lily (or the Lady Elizabeth) was a lovely heroine. The stifled aristocrat starts the novel full of good intentions but little agency – she’d like to make something of her life, but it seems unlikely she’d ever muster up the courage. How could she, with choices severely restricted not only by her gender, but also her class? But the war and her correspondence with Robbie, a surgeon with a working-class background, push her into action: first working as a clippie in London, later taking a position as an ambulance driver in France.

I’m not a historian, so I’ve no idea if Robson’s portrayal of English society was accurate or not. But it certainly made for a very different story. From glamorous Downton Abbey estates to the Western Front, the story is permeated with a sense of restrictive British propriety. Female soldiers are strictly segregated from the male troops. Men try not to swear around delicate, feminine ears, and worry about providing sweethearts with “the protection of their name.” This is made all the more ridiculous by the sheer horror of the surrounding war. Is it a cliché to say that Britain at this time really was another world? In any case, the all-pervasive sexism made me very glad I wasn’t born 100 years ago.

Somewhere in France also has a compelling plot (something I don’t often say about lit fic!). It’s tied up in two things – Lily’s dutiful quest to aid the war effort, and her romantic feelings towards Robbie. This romance comprised a large part of the story, and I’m frankly surprised I enjoyed it as much as I did. While there are a few too many mentions of Robbie’s deep blue eyes, their relationship was mainly reserved and sweet. It also always came second to the demands of the war. And those demands! Life in London, training in the WAAC, being posted at a field hospital… I found it endlessly fascinating. The only thing I had difficulty believing was how Lily frequently hid her background. Surely her accent would have given her away?!

Highly recommended, especially for fans of historical fiction.