“The Dry”, by Jane Harper

 

336 pages, Flatiron Books, ISBN-13: 978-1250105608

In Jane Harper’s The Dry, Aaron Falk, Australian Federal Police agent, returns to the struggling farming community (and hometown) of Kiewarra for the funeral of his childhood best friend, Luke Hadler, and his family. Severe drought has put the town under extreme pressure and the community is shocked (but not surprised) when the Hadler family is found dead in their farmhouse in an apparent murder-suicide perpetrated by Luke. While Falk is loath to confront the townspeople who drove him away twenty years earlier, the circumstances around the deaths of the Hadlers compels him to dig deeper into the events leading up to the tragedy – and to confront the long-hidden secrets of his own troublesome past in this water-forsaken town.

The Dry is a first-rate page-turner that depicts its setting – the parched, small-town farming communities outside of the landmark Australian cities – in intimate (not to say depressing) detail. The characters are all fleshed out and believable, while the pace is that of a long-distance runner: steady and assured, not in a rush to get to the destination but, rather, determined to move along at its own pace and arrive, triumphant. And as for the ending…well, let me just say that I like my mysteries to be mysterious, and the unexpected twist as the killer is at last revealed and the mystery is solved left me satisfied that these 336 pages weren’t a waste of my time (and made me wonder why I didn’t figure it out on my own. Damnit).

So, yeah, The Dry is a first-class mystery that will leave you guessing until The Big Reveal; so glad I found and assigned it for the Mysteries & Munchies book club (he said in all modesty).

“Art in the Blood: A Sherlock Holmes Adventure”, by Bonnie MacBird

 

336 pages, ‎ Collins Crime Club, ISBN-13: 978-0008129699

So we had a power outage out here and, rather than sit in darkness, I took my mother to her local library (which was, evidently, on a different grid) just to have a look around – and I found this, Art in the Blood – A Sherlock Holmes Adventure by Bonnie MacBird. Now, as I’m sure you remember, Dear Reader, as of this writing I am running a mystery book club at the Fraser Public Library and find myself on the lookout for new books to suggest to the folks. So when I saw a brand-new Sherlock Holmes adventure that I could borrow and read at no cost to myself I said, “Oh, what the hell. I’ll be the guinea pig” (I mean, why not; it was free, after all).

And I’m glad that I did for, in reading Art in the Blood I had the very real sensation that I was reading an authentic Holmes mystery written as Conan Doyle would have. The pacing, the language, the characterizations – especially, it must be said, of Holmes and Watson – all felt to me like MacBird had channeled Sir Arthur and wrote a book the way he would have. Be warned, however, for the story is rather dark – very dark, perhaps – concerning as it does art theft, torture, child abuse, rape, incest and pederasty, themes atypical for a Holmes story but which, I would argue, existed during the Victorian Age (as well as our own, mores the pity).

The story is certainly more action-packed than most Holmes mysteries (although Holmes is perfectly able to comport himself physically) with famous names periodically being dropped: Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec meeting Holmes and Watson? Why not! And Vidocq is based on Eugène-François Vidocq, a French criminal-turned-detective (Conan Doyle partially based Holmes on Vidocq, which makes this an inside joke). There are little inconsistencies that quirk at True Fan; for instance, Mary Morstan – that’s Mrs. Watson – has a sick mother in this outing, but canon has established her as an orphan.

So, for what it’s worth, I thought that Art in the Blood was a fast-paced novel with several intriguing subplots and some nicely thought-out twists and turns. MacBird captured the Victorian Era and atmosphere convincingly, the dialog especially. The local color was certainly well done; facts about the historical period were well detailed in language, setting and in society’s detail. Stepping into Conan Doyle’s shoes couldn’t have been easy, but MacBird did a very credible job with this fast-paced and dark adventure. If the book club agrees I’ll put it on the calendar; regardless, I look forward to reading the second book.

“The Last Kaiser: A Biography of Wilhelm II, German Emperor and King of Prussia”, by Tyler Whittle

 

368 pages, Times Books, ISBN-13: 978-0812907162

I picked up my copy of The Last Kaiser: A Biography of Wilhelm II, German Emperor and King of Prussia by Tyler Whittle (or rather, Michael Sidney Tyler-Whittle) from John K. King Books on Lafayette Boulevard in Downtown Detroit, one of my favorite used book hunting grounds that my Dad and I used to make semi-annual excursions to (I’ve mentioned this before). We here in the States have a very specific idea of just who and what Kaiser Bill was (assuming any of us remember, that is), with “Warmonger” topping the list. But according to Whittle, Wilhelm – contrary to allied propaganda – didn’t want war, especially the two-front war that was the dread of every German leader since…well, forever. But the propaganda of the Allied powers was a powerful thing, and any attention to truth and balance was mostly nonexistent or distorted (and the winners write the history).

There is, of course, more to the story. Wilhelm had a tempestuous relationship with his parents – they would be Friedrich Wilhelm Nikolaus Karl, Frederick III of Germany and Victoria Adelaide Mary Louisa, eldest daughter of Queen Victoria and Prince Albert – seeing as they were reforming liberals and he was a reactionary aristocrat, but Whittle makes it sound like family meant a great deal to him (he got on well enough with King George V and seemed to really like Tsar Nicholas II, in a condescending manner). His mother never ceased to consider herself British and looked down on the German court and culture as inferior to Victorian Britain, while his father was out of step with public opinion, being too liberal for the prevailing political climate. Wilhelm compensated by becoming very nationalistic, while his parent’s exceedingly high standards meant that they never saw Wilhelm as being never quite good enough.

While reading this biography it became quite clear – to me, at any rate – that Wilhelm’s life, character and attitudes were shaped by his left arm. I’ll explain: his was a breech birth, being born feet-first instead of head-first, and so the attending physician forcibly pulled the left arm downwards, tearing the brachial plexus, then continued to grasp the left arm to rotate the infant’s trunk and free the right arm, but permanently injuring the left arm and causing it to be withered and half the size of his right for the rest of his life. From a mental point of view – what with all of the ipecac and chloroform Victoria was given, along with Wilhelm’s hypoxic state at birth – it all possibly gave Kaiser Bill mild brain damage which manifested itself in his subsequent hyperactive and erratic behavior, limited attention span and impaired social abilities. Indeed, the way he behaved even in adulthood made him seem as a child who never grew up.

Anyway…Kaiser Bill, under Whittle’s pen, actually comes across as a complicated though not unlikable man with his share of strengths and weaknesses, a shocking revelation to me, seeing as I always thought of him as a warmongering loud mouth. He overcame a very difficult birth disability at great sacrifice, became Kaiser at least ten years too early for his own (or Germany’s, or Europe’s) good and was really caught in profound international currents not of his own making (oh, and he was a big fan of PG Wodehouse). For opponents of the time and later detractors there is enough in a few of William’s speeches and actions to condemn him, which they certainly did; however, the countervailing evidence unearthed by Whittle suggest a much more complex man, and his balanced interpretation is a far more accurate picture of a man who should, perhaps, have been an actor rather than an emperor. Kaiser Bill, we hardly knew ye.

“The Three Orders: Feudal Society Imagined”, by Georges Duby, Translated by Arthur Goldhammer, With a Forward by Thomas N. Bisson

 

392 pages, The University of Chicago Press, ISBN-13: 978-0226167725

In The Three Orders: Feudal Society Imagined, prominent Annales historian Georges Duby offers a tripartite view of medieval French society, a construct which depicts men separating themselves into a triple hierarchy: Those Who Pray; Those Who Fight; Those Who Work. He considers how this medieval theory of orders originated, discusses its complex history and shows how different interests – cultural, political and economic – were involved in its creation and use. The Three Orders also shows how the tripartite schema came to occupy a central position in social thought and clarifies the manner in which feudal society viewed itself.

Beginning with a brief examination of a popular early 7^th Century treatise on the Three Estates of France, Duby then jumps abruptly back to the period in which the notion that French society was thus divided was born. Essentially, the bishops of the tottering Capetian state drew upon older imaginings of hierarchical order to project a new rationale for royal power and peasant subservience; their tripartite scheme collapsed with the monarchy itself, only to be resuscitated in the 12^th Century with the creation of the Feudal system and the conflict between Capetians and Plantagenets contributed to a definitive restoration of monarchical trifunctionality.

In tracing the fortunes of the Three Orders, Duby shows how this tripartite scheme came to occupy a central position in social thought and clarifies the manner in which feudal society viewed itself.

“Elric: The Stealer of Souls”, by Michael Moorcock

 

 

625 pages, White Wolf Publishing, ISBN-13: 978-1565041875

 

Over the course of the mid-to-late 90s, White Wolf Publishing produced this massive omnibus collection of Michael Moorcock’s “Eternal Champion” stories, a recurrent aspect in many of his tales. Elric: The Stealer of Souls was the eleventh in this series and the second volume once-more featuring the character Elric of Melniboné, and includes the tales The Sleeping Sorceress, The Revenge of the Rose, The Stealer of Souls, Kings in Darkness, The Caravan of Forgotten Dreams and Stormbringer. In this volume we revisit everybody’s favorite albino antihero and his continuing quest to betray everyone who is loyal to him. As Moorcock’s most famous and intriguing – to say nothing of infuriating – character, it should come as no surprise, I suppose, that we would see more of the bleached-skin bastard and his nefarious ways – because while we may hate to admit it, the best characters are sonsovbitches. Not “best” as in brave, trustworthy, loyal, dutiful, and so on and so forth, but rather driven, tortured, selfish, and etc. etc. etc. It’s impossible to love Elric, but it is equally impossible not to be fascinated by him and even to cheer for him even as you bemoan the manner in which he triumphs over his foes – and friends.

The Sleeping Sorceress (or, if you prefer, The Vanishing Tower) was released in the magnificent 80s – and shows it: as well as you more mundane fantasy-adventure plotting it is also a smorgasbord of Elrician excesses to spoil even the most cynical reader (or author). Instead of one large novel we have here instead three linked novellas that each moves the story along. We begin with Elric’s and “Empress of the Dawn” Myshella’s continuing vendetta against the evil wizard Theleb Ka’arna (last seen in The Dream of Earl Aubec, as you’ll no-doubt recall). We next come across Elric in Nadsokor, the City of Beggars, as he stumbles into a trap laid by its King and the self-same Theleb Ka’arna before moving on to a crossover with the Corum novel The King of Swords in which Elric teams up again with both Corum and Erekosë to battle a sorcerer named (get this) Voilodion Ghagnasdiak (I don’t know either; and when I say crossover, I mean it: read both stories side-by-side and compare the relevant sections). Pretty standard Elric stuff, except that he sounds even more petulant and whiney than ever, so much so that you sometimes wish he’d turn Stormbringer on himself and just end it already.

Next up is The Revenge of the Rose, in which a dragon delivers Elric to the ghost of his father, The Emperor Sadric the Eighty-Sixth, who demands that his son locate his soul, currently chillin’ in a rosewood box in a far distant land (aren’t they all “far distant”?) and restore it to him, or else dear ol’ dad Sadric will haunt the shit out of Elric forevermore (so, ghosts don’t have souls? I think Moorcock has some ‘splaining to do). During his Quest for Dad’s Soul Elric will come across the mysterious warrior princess Rose and face off against their mutual foe Charion, an undead agent of Chaos. Naturally, there are swords and sorcery and blood and guts and action and violence and Elric moping all over the Young Kingdoms, as you would expect from a Moorcock story in general and an Elric story especially. Oh, and the Chaos Gods Count Mashabak and Arioch (Lord of the Seven Darks, Knight of the Swords, Lord of the Higher Hell, etc.) raise all sorts of hell, too. The Revenge of the Rose is rather long on philosophy and short on action (also, the way the narrative slips from past to present tense and back, to no discernible purpose is annoying as all get out). All-in-all this book has the feel of a filler work.

The Stealer of Souls comes next, from which this White Wolf volume gets its title (indeed, in researching this review I found that there have been several editions of Elric books that have been collected underneath the rubric “The Stealer of Souls”). In this story we find our demented protagonist on his usual way, adventuring and killing and brooding and betraying, so much so that it is rather difficult to distinguish this story from many of the others that Moorcock has written about this most infuriating of characters. There are, however, a couple of interesting – if ultimately dissatisfying – elements that stood out for me. The first being that, at long last, Theleb Ka’arna gets his comeuppance in epic fantasy fashion, suitable enough for a Disney villain, if I may be so bold. The other is when Elric the Eighth of the Dragon Isle meets the remnants of Melniboné, something that hadn’t happened since he destroyed it’s capitol of Imrryr. Interesting in that the interaction of these forced-upon mercenaries and erstwhile Emperor was unexpected and promised high-drama – but no; these Melnibonéans are not only fatalistic but forgiving towards their ex-Emperor, a dissatisfying (like I said) arrangement, not to say unrealistic.

Kings in Darkness is next…I suppose, seeing as the chronology of many of Moorcock’s Elric books seems spotty, not helped by the fact that the man would often revisit and rewrite many of the earlier books and and/or subtract ideas and events, and even to reorder when what happened when (this also accounts for why so many of his books have been published and then republished with different titles). So anyway, the story begins with Elric and Moonglum of Elwher (that would be Elric’s most loyal companion thus far and, just possibly, the only true friend he ever had) barely escape with their lives from Nadsokor, the City of Beggars, and find themselves in the cursed Forest of Troos. Whilst traveling this accursed place Elric is able to collect various sorcerous herbs that grow only there; in so doing the pair meet the young and beautiful Lady Zarozinia of Kaarlak, sole survivor of a massacre by the physically and mentally twisted Orgians. From there we have more adventuring and bloodshed – oh, and an undead king that must be vanquished – before Elric and Friends at last triumph…and Elric settles down with Zarozinia in an attempt to lead a quiet and domesticated life. Yeah, right.

Onwards to The Caravan of Forgotten Dreams (or The Flame Bringers; see what I mean?), in which our…hero defeats the Mongolesque barbarian horde that threatens his newfound marital tranquility, a surprisingly vivid battle in which some of Moorcock’s old mojo seemingly returned. We also witness the return of Dyvim Tvar, the Dragon Master and Lord of the Dragon Caves, and his Merry Band of Melnibonéan Mercs, but only for a time. Frankly, I would have loved to have seen more of the erstwhile Dragon Prince and his one-time Emperor interact with one another; I really disliked his seemingly utter forgiveness of the man who destroyed his nation. I mean, he hated Theleb Ka’arna more for whacking Yishana’s suitors more then Elric, a plot device I just didn’t believe. Anyway…by story’s end, Elric thinks he’s found that the herbs he has been using can maintain his strength in place of Stormbringer and its stolen souls (he even thinks he’s finally managed to discard Stormbringer, as he seemingly lost it during the battle), telling Zarozinia that he’s “tired of swords and sorcery” – Zarozinia doesn’t have the heart to tell him that a screaming Stormbringer came back from battle before he did.

And lastly we have Stormbringer, the concluding story in Elric’s saga in which “[t]here came a time when the destiny of Men and Gods was hammered out upon the forge of Fate, when monstrous wars were brewed and mighty deeds were designed. And there rose up in this time, which was called the Age of the Young Kingdoms, heroes. Greatest of these heroes was a doom-driven adventurer who bore a crooning runeblade that he loathed. His name was Elric of Melniboné…”. And so it all officially ended here, in the final battle between Chaos and Law and Winner Take All, and although Elric is ostensibly a servant of Chaos, more often than not he is drafted into the ongoing efforts of the Cosmic Balance to maintain a balance between Law and Chaos, a balance that is ultimately undone by the end of this book. And as series-enders go, this was masterful, as everything that Moorcock brought to his Elric tales culminates with this epic fight at the End Times. It is a fitting end to one of fantasy literature’s most enduring, fascinating, infuriating characters, one that never ceased to keep you bound to him even as you sought release. When closing Stormbringer for the last time, I truly felt that an era had ended and a tale had been told.

“The Paper Girl of Paris” by Jordyn Taylor

 

384 pages, HarperTeen, ISBN-13: 978-0062936646

So, one night I popped in to Barnes & Noble ‘cause I had a hankering for their Lady Godiva chocolate cheesecake and saw a sign saying that this book, The Paper Girl of Paris by Jordyn Taylor, was a mere five bucks with purchase and, since I was, in fact, purchasing, I bought it – not knowing that it was published by Harper’s teen imprint. Sooooo…okay; in some ways this is apparent, as when Alice (our 16-year-old protagonist) complains about her appearance, or her inability to attract a boy at school or, when she does catch the eye of a dreamy French guy she gushes along with her friends (via email). All of which is embarrassing and not a little irritating; just get on with the story, will ya?

So, what is the story? Well, it’s this: 16-year-old Alice is spending the summer in Paris with her family after having inherited an apartment from her grandmother that nobody in the family even knew existed. An apartment that has been empty for more than seventy years. Alice is determined to find out why the apartment was abandoned and why her grandmother never once mentioned the family she left behind when she moved to America after World War II. But this is also the story of 16-year-old Adalyn – Alice’s great aunt whom she never heard of – and her life during the German occupation of France and her role in the French Resistance. Both stories of two very different 16-year-old girls are told in tandem as one searches the past of the other.

Right. How was it? Considering that I am well outside of the target demographic for this book, I thought it was pretty good. I think that it is, obviously, written with teens in mind – teens girls especially – and most of the characters are paper-thin in their development: geeky American girl, cute French boy, evil German officer, not-so-bad German officer, brave Resistance fighters…just about every character is interchangeable and doesn’t stand out. But the struggle against the Nazis in Paris is brought to life for young people, while the mystery of what happened to Alice’s unknown French family is at last solved in the end – a surprisingly tragic end. So, yeah, The Paper Girl of Paris was okay; if I were a teen girl I’m sure I’d appreciate it more.

“William Wallace”, by Andrew Fisher

 

305 pages, John Donald, ISBN-13: 978-0859765572

William Wallace by Andrew Fisher is “…the smartest, most savvy account of Wallace”, this from noted William Wallace expert…Mel Gibson, which is a laugh seeing as how Braveheart has about as much truth in it as your typical politician. While first published in 1986, this particular edition is from 2002 (which explains the Braveheart reference in the Preface). Speaking of Braveheart, William Wallace is about as far from that movie as Planet Earth is from the sun: there is no blue body paint, no tartans, no kilts…and the Battle of Stirling Bridge takes place on a f**king bridge. It is very much a scholarly type of book, so if you are looking for Braveheart sexiness – to say nothing of bullshit – stick with the movie.

Fisher is obviously a competent scholar, but his writing has the reserved tedium of a British work, lacking as it does the dynamism necessary to capture the imagination of the reader. He does, however, a great job of explaining the times, circumstances and history of Wallace’s era: the conflicts leading up to the Scottish War of Independence, the death of Alexander III, the problems of John Balliol and Edward I’s eventual invasion of Scotland, the uprisings that happened around Scotland (one of which is Wallace’s), the aforementioned Battle of Stirling Bridge (1297), Wallace’s time as a Guardian, the Battle of Falkirk, his return to leading small raids and his eventual capture and execution.

While reading William Wallace it becomes obvious that there just isn’t a lot of information on William Wallace: while Fisher damns other authors for their rampant speculation about the man and his motivations, he then turns around and, in order to better flesh-out his subject, resorts to…rampant speculation. While much of it is interesting and, it must be said, grounded in what little facts we have about Wallace, it made much of the book, from an historical perspective, rather unreliable (it put me in mind of Eleanor of Aquitaine: The Mother Queen by Desmond Seward, reviewed on August 4^th, 2018, and Eleanor of Aquitaine: A Life by Alison Weir, May 1^st, 2019, two books that also speculated madly about their famous yet little-known subject).

But the story told in William Wallace is not just about William Wallace, but of early Medieval Scotland as a whole and its struggle against England and its merciless king, Edward I. And for that it is an invaluable resource as this small, inaccessible yet (evidently) highly desirable piece of Planet Earth sought to retain its independence and make its own way, as so many small nations around the world and across time have tried to do, both back then and right now. That one man has been made the symbol of this struggle may make it easier to grasp, but it also rather cheapens the fight made by so many nameless, faceless men – and women – and their common cause. Wallace was important, but he was not irreplaceable, as this book unwittingly shows.