I don’t know how many times I’ve watched The Last Kingdom BBC series. It’s riveting and very well produced. I appreciate that both sides — Saxons and Danes — are presented equally, meaning there are people you will love and detest among the both cultures. Uhtred, the hero of this series, sits squarely in the centre.
Several generations of my father’s Carr ancestors resided in Yorkshire; I imagine that’s where my Scandinavian DNA derives from as Northumbria was the first Danish stronghold in England.
A couple of weeks ago, I found several books from the original series by Bernard Cornwell at my favourite local Indie book store, Western Sky Books. I bought the first four, and just finished reading book 1.
“The best battle scenes of any writer I’ve ever read, past or present. Cornwell really makes history come alive.” —George R.R Martin
Indeed, the raw, visceral, action scenes will port you to 886 AD where you’ll meet the eager Danes who seek the land and the pious King Alfred who fights to drive them off so he can unite the kingdoms of England under his rule. Enter Uhtred of Bebbanburg, who’s taken by Earl Ragnar as a child and raised as a pagan warrior in northern England—territory already controlled by the Danes.
The book follows much like the series, except the feisty Brida doesn’t appear in Uhtred’s life until he’s sixteen. Their sexual liaison is short-lived as she ships out with young Ragnar while Uhtred stays with Alfred. In Book 1, we see him marry Christian Mildrith who gives him a son as well as her debt. And in the final climatic scene, Uhtred sends Ubba Lothbrok to Valhalla in an intense, visceral, man-to-man brawl.
One of the differences here, is that three of Ragnar Lothbrok’s sons are invading England: Ivar the Boneless, Halfdan, and Ubba. Cornwell’s book is well-researched using The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, penned during Alfred’s time (possibly by the king himself) and Asser’s life of King Alfred as well as secondary sources. He admits, “I have feathered lavishly” (333.) Indeed, but it’s a brilliant feathering and we come as close to being there as is possible.
The book includes a map and a glossary of place names written in both the ancient tongue and the modern. Bernard Cornwell is one of the presenters at The Historical Novel Society Conference this September in Darlington UK. I almost signed up, but alas, Greece called. I’m sure he will infuse the participants with his sage knowledge and impeccable writing style. Maybe next time. *Highly Recommended.
Find me at Port Moody Library Author’s Fair this Saturday June 15th from 1:00 – 3:00 pm. I’ll be reading in the Fireside Lounge around 2:30pm. Please come by and say hello! It’s good to be back home!
I almost put this book down. I only picked it up from the 7 Day Express Loans shelf at the library because of the setting. Not because Michaelides is a New York Times bestselling author or because his first novel debuted at #1 and sold 6.5 million copies. I just really wanted some Grecian atmosphere because I’ve just booked a writer’s retreat in the Cyclades. But the beginning bored me, even though from the first line it promised to be “a tale of murder.”
It was set on an ex-movie star’s private Greek island as promised, but not all of it. (That too was a lie.) And yes, there were moments where the sand and surf and wind buffeted me into that island world, but much of it is set on another island entirely. England. The Fury, of course, refers to the mad Grecian wind—a wind that plays as antagonistic a role as the insane trickster narrator, Elliot Chase (not his real name.) Nothing is real about this narrator. But I enjoyed moments like this:
“We made our way to the coast and began to search the beaches. This was an arduous task, with the wind attacking us as we walked. The fury was relentless, slashing our faces, hurling sand at us, screaming in our ears, shoving us off-balance every chance it got” (160).
It is a locked room murder mystery, I suppose, considering there are only seven people on the island: Lana, the ex-Hollywood actress who owns Aura (the island named after the Goddess); her seventeen-year-old son Leo; her studly boyfriend, Jason; her best girlfriend, a messed up actress named Kate; Agathi, the old woman who is Lana’s faithful servant; Nikos (I can’t remember why he’s there to tell you the truth, perhaps he’s another servant); and Elliot, our fiendish narrator who’s Lana’s friend and obsessed with her.
I say “fiendish” because the author breaks all kinds of writerly rules; like popping in with his opinions when he’s not in the room and can’t possibly know what’s being said. This cardinal “point-of-view” rule haunts me and I dare not break it. But I suppose a NewYork Times #1 bestselling author can do whatever he wants. Elliott frequently pops in with his first-person voice and is the most twisted fuck I’ve read in a long while. I caution you: Don’t believe what he says because three pages later, he’ll admit to making it up and give you a completely different version of the events. Oh, and the characters are actors, playing parts for the narrator, and at times the author, who continues to rewrite the script of this five-act prose-play. It’s brilliant really. Even if it’s as infuriating as that damn wind.
So, why didn’t I put this book down? One word. Spellbinding. Michaelides caught me in his trickster spell and forced me to keep reading, and, as I read, the action revved up—driven by lies and self-propelled by an annoying narrator. I can’t say I’ve read anything like it before.
Is there a murder? Yes. But that’s all I’ll tell you. To know more, you’ll have to mount the wind and see where she takes you. Who of these seven players is the victim and who the killer, I will not say.
Joanna Vander Vlugt believes that all books should be works of art. She’s got a leg up there, being an artist-illustrator as well as a fine writer. Her sketch of protagonist, motorcycle-riding lawyer, Jade Thyme, blasts off the page carried by the energy of the craft.
Spy Girls, book three in the Jade and Sage Thriller series, is a rollicking and relentless legal thriller that answers the question: Can justice really prevail? The plot begins when millionaire Chief Justice Chimera—a revolting toad who sexually harasses and abuses young women who have the bad fortune to end up in his courtroom AND who is destined to become Canada’s next Prime Minister—is found murdered in his hot tub. Is this poetic justice? The work of a vigilante? The problem is: Sage Thyme’s girlfriend was the last person seen in the hot tub with Chimera, and now she’s missing, off her medication, and a person of interest along with Chimera’s wife, Anya, herself a pastry-chef and Russian ex-double-agent. Complicated? That’s not the half of it.
A high-voltage spy thriller, fueled by insidious twists, deceptive characters, and high-stakes action, Spy Girls is played out at intimate settings in Victoria, B.C. and the Downtown East Side in Vancouver.
Things I liked about this book: Slick dialogue and intimate details, like a box of gold-plated teeth from a murdered preacher, that show up here and there as clues. The play on names. A chimera is a devilish, mythological creature formed from parts of various animals; for example, a goat and serpent. Fitting? Indeed. Katriona Kalocsay, the snazzy, psychopathic, Hungarian villain who uses pliers to deal out her own brand of justice (teeth and nails. Yikes!) The formatting: the book comes complete with a Table of Contents divided into four parts. Each chapter highlights a cheeky quotation to rev up the reader and catchy chapter heads.
Vancouver Island writer, Joanna Vander Vlugt has a unique writing style and experiments with fresh ways to use basic literary terms. Gems like “my caterpillar confidence” and “an onion of nerves” catch the reader’s eye. She does something interesting with verbs, adding “ing” in surprising places—“Adam marched in, slamming him against the inside wall,” and “Adam shouted, dropping Jan to the floor”—that complements the action.
Though Spy Girls is the third instalment in the series, this novel can be read alone. There are enough mentions of backstory to piece together the intimate web that connects the characters, be they ex-CIA spies and their handlers; fathers and daughters; sisters, lovers, and friends. The first two novels, The Unravelling and Dealer’s Child, were Canadian Book Club Awards finalists. Joanna worked in the prosecutor’s office for thirteen years and spent another ten working in the Office of the Police Complaint Commissioner, so has plenty of fodder for her novels. She is also a wonderful interviewer and editor of SAM Magazine. Her motorcycle illustrations have been purchased world-wide, and her Woman Empowered motorcycle art series has been featured in on-line art and motorcycle magazines.
Reading Spy Girls is like running a marathon. It will leave you breathless, yet satisfied.
There’s an ongoing argument among writers about what makes a novel literary rather than genre. This novel, which I picked up in one of my neighbourhood little libraries, solved it for me.
It’s in the voice.
Voice is how an author writes—what they choose to say and how they choose to say it. Voice is the one quality that can slow down my reading because I want to wallow in it, rather than race to find out what happens next.
Sointula is an older novel, going on twenty years, but I don’t feel it’s dated in the least. Vancouver Island and its wild places are still here echoing in the mist. Sointula, for those of you who’ve never heard of it, is a seaside town on Malcolm Island (just off the northeast coast of Vancouver Island). It’s built on the unceded Kwakwakw’akw Territory of the ‘Namgis, Mamalilikala, and Kwakuitl Nations. Sointula was created by a group of Finnish settlers in 1901 as their Utopia.
Bill Gaston weaves his awareness of the island through the experiences of Tom, a rough-edged, damaged, young man who’s there recovering from a near-wack by a Vietnamese gang. Something to do with drugs. Tom is living alone on the beach, observing and counting orcas. He’s also involved in getting drugs into B.C. — something about hearing boats on his orca sonar and building a big old bonfire when the coast is literally clear for the drug boats to come through.
Tom’s life story is described in wistful detail through his mother’s memories.
Evelyn has left her privileged life as the wife of the Mayor of Oakville, Ontario to join her dying ex in Victoria, B.C. After Claude’s passing, she puts his ashes into a glass vile, steals a double kayak, and heads north on her own. Evelyn has no money, no food, no clothes other than the ones she came with. She hasn’t seen her son Tom in a decade but she needs to now. She needs to tell him about his father’s death.
En route, Evelyn meets Peter Gore, whose gall bladder is literally killing him. Still, he joins Evelyn in her stolen kayak with his rum and his desire to write a book. Over many pages, Peter falls in love with Eve and with life.
All three characters are flawed. It would be hard to even sympathize with them if it weren’t for the elegant backstories Gaston weaves throughout this masterful story. I see myself in Evelyn’s estrangement from her grown son and her desperation to find peace in the wild hollows. I love her outlaw spirit. Sointula means “place of harmony” and in all the chaos of travel, sickness, grime, and starvation—traveling without funds is not clean nor romantic—it seems that harmony prevails. Even Love.
Reading Sointula was almost enough to make me get in the car and drive north two hours to Port McNeill. From there it’s only a short ferry ride to Malcolm Island. The land itself plays a character in this story and the tale borders on travel writing.
It was enough to make me look for more Gaston books and take a deep dive into Can Lit.
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