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The Gentling Box by Lisa Mannetti

Oh my Wild Things, come close, come close; the Dragon has a treasure for you.  I remember now what it is to be afraid . . .

It is the mid-nineteenth century, but the Age of Enlightenment has bypassed Hungary and Romania’s itinerant gypsy population.  Imre is a half-gypsy horse trader who lives with his wife and daughter in Hungary, but their happy existence is shattered when they receive word that his wife’s mother, the sorceress Anyeta, is dying.  Mimi insists they go to Romania to ease her mother’s final days and against his better judgment, Imre agrees to make the journey with his wife and young daughter, Lenore.

By the time they arrive, Anyeta’s body is dead, but the old sorceress’ spirit has taken possession of another woman’s body.  Anyeta contrives to seduce Imre from his family so she can destroy him.  Anyeta has plans for Imre and Mimi’s beloved daughter, Lenore.  Imre can stop the sorceress, but first he must overcome his own terror of using the gentling box.

Imre’s haunting tale grabs the reader by the eyeballs from page one and does not let go. In spite of his best efforts, Imre watches everything he loves slip away, and his struggle with his conscience is heartbreaking. Mannetti weaves Imre’s story with skill and her dark prose evokes the wild loneliness of the Romanian wilderness where Imre’s small family struggles against Anyeta’s evil.

I was delighted by the accuracy of Mannetti’s research both into Romany culture and the time period.  Mannetti recently won the Bram Stroker Award for first novel with The Gentling Box, and it is an honor that is richly deserved.

I warn you now: let no one disturb you when you read this novel, because you will not want to stop until you have devoured the last word.  I could not put The Gentling Box down and neither shall you.

“Tshailo sim.”

I am replete . . . (hehe)

My rating:

The Bell at Sealey Head by Patricia A. McKillip

I believe this is the most recent book by Patricia McKillip (published in late 2008) and it is my third McKillip book.  While I did enjoy it for the most part, it was the least satisfying McKillip book to date for me.

The story centers around a crumbling manor house in the small town of Sealey Head, perched on the cliffs above the sea.  To all outward appearances, not much happens at Aislinn House where Lady Eglantyne lies on her deathbed.  The only sign that things are not as they seem is the mournful tolling of a bell as the sun goes down each day.  No one knows where the bell is or what it signifies.  It has been a part of the lives of the residents of Sealey Head for so many years that many don’t even notice it any more.

It soon becomes apparent that there is another side to Aislinn House which only a select few people know about.  Emma, the housemaid, sometimes opens what seems to be a closet door or a door to an unused bedroom and finds instead a parallel world of princesses and knights entangled in some sort of bizarre ritualistic existence unchanged for year upon year.

The entire idea of the story is fascinating and as I said before I did enjoy the book, but the ending was a bit of a letdown with many questions left unanswered (for me at least).  The mystery is wrapped up rather quickly and anticlimactically (is that a word?).  Of the three McKillip books I’ve read, this one seemed to have the least of the enchanting and poetic language that initially drew me to her work when I read In the Forests of Serre. 

Still, I would recommend this one to McKillip fans and those who have not discovered McKillip yet and enjoy “world within a world” fantasies.  As always, the artwork on the cover by Kinuko Y. Craft is extraordinary as well.

My Rating: 

Angels and Demons by Dan Brown

When I was but a wee dragonette, my papa said to me, “don’t play with matches or you’ll get burned,” and I, being the willful dragonette I was, immediately pounced on a book of matches and lit them one by one.  And I was burned.

So when Dan Brown’s prequel to The Da Vinci Code was made into a movie, and I heard that the novel was perfectly awful, I just had to grab that book of matches (hehe) and see for myself.  Given Brown’s butchery of the English language, Angels and Demons should have been billed as a horror novel.

Robert Langdon is dashing off once more to antagonize, err . . . I mean save the Vatican from a mysterious brotherhood called the Illuminati.  The Illuminati are radical scientists who obviously never studied history, because the actual brotherhood called the Illuminati was started by an attorney.  But don’t let history and facts stand in the way of your reading fun!  Dan Brown doesn’t!

Anyway, our intrepid “symbologist” Robert Langdon is not to be dissuaded from saving the very institution that condemns him.  Rushing around Rome with Vittoria Vetra (say that name ten times real fast — I dare you), Langdon seeks to save the Vatican from an antimatter bomb created by . . . (suspenseful music plays) . . . the Illuminati!

Meanwhile, Langdon rises above petty squabbles, facts, and Church history in general to smear falsehoods disguised as verity and agonize over doctors removing his testicles.  There are the obligatory racing cars, pursuit scenes, and exotic locations (yawn) including a lot of Brown’s theological and scientific rhetoric, which is about as deep as a creek in a drought.

After the third page, my need to line-edit the novel became as compulsive as Brown’s obsession with phallic symbols and testicles.  Of course, since he has threatened us with a third book, I would much prefer to see him enroll in a few writing classes rather than deal with his phallic issues.  He can work those out with his wife.  Or not.

Generally speaking, this book is too stupid to be offensive to anyone other than erudite individuals who expect their novels to be if not well written, at least adequately well written.  Some of us would even settle for marginally well written.  Angels and Demons is the literary equivalent of a reality television show – brainless, insipid, and self-serving.  In order to be offended by it, you don’t have to be Catholic, just literate.

My Rating: 

Winter Rose by Patricia A. McKillip

Having greatly enjoyed my first McKillip book, In the Forests of Serre, I moved immediately to Winter Rose with great anticipation.   Rois and Laurel are two sisters, opposites in every way.  Laurel is calm, serene and happily making beautiful lacey things  for her upcoming wedding to Perrin.  Rois prefers losing herself in the woods, wandering barefoot collecting flowers and herbs.  One day handsome Corbet Lynn shows up at crumbling Lynn Hall intent on rebuilding his family home, stirring up gossip and talk in the village of the murder that took place years before and the curse on the Lynn family.

At this point I was enjoying the “gentle elegance” of McKillip’s style (as described by Library Journal), but scratching my head thinking that this story was shaping up as a typical historical romance.  Around about Chapter 7 I began to realize that things weren’t quite what they seemed.  That charming spring in the woods reflected more than just the bramble roses hiding it, and Rois was hearing more than just the wind in the trees.  Not to mention that odd look in Corbet’s eye. 

McKillip weaves a tale as intricate as that tangle of bramble roses, drawing us into her fantasy world (or should I say worlds?) and holding us there with beautiful, evocative language.  I’ve already started my third McKillip book of the summer,The Bell at Sealey Head, and it’s only May.

My Rating: 

The Mysterious Life of the Heart edited by Sy Safransky

Very few books have captivated me like The Mysterious Life of the Heart: Writing from The Sun about Passion, Longing, and Love.  In this anthology, The Sun Magazine has brought together previously published essays, poetry, and short stories that probes love in all its various guises for a journey replete with ecstasy, heartbreak, and all the moments in between.  This is a cerebral, accessible examination of the erotic, eviscerating effects of love on the body and the soul. 

A few of the highlights include the essay “Bleeding Dharma” by Stephen T. Butterfield where Butterfield honestly explores his feelings of grief when his wife walks out on him on their anniversary.  It is a brutal examination of the extraction of love and the horror of betrayal.  Butterfield masterfully walks the reader through the conflicting, bitter emotions that flay the spouse who is left to behind in the wake of an affair.

A direct counterpoint is presented in the short story, “Ten Things” by Leslie Pietrzyk, who writes of a woman whose husband has died young.  Pietrzyk’s character examines the subtle, powerful ways in which she knew her husband loved her.  Suniti Landgé writes an erotic short story of longing and infidelity of the heart and mind in her short story, “Small Things.”

Although every essay, poem, and short story in this anthology encapsulates moments of love, it is North Carolina author, Krista Bremer’s essay “My Accidental Jihad” that, to me, exemplifies marriage and love with its message of tolerance and mutual understanding.  Bremer shares her conflicting feelings of watching her husband, Ismail, undertake his month-long fast for Ramadan.  Bremer best describes their differences of religion when she contrasts Ismail’s God as “the old-fashioned kind, omnipresent and stern, uncompromising with his demands” with her more tolerant version of God, who “is a flamboyant and fickle friend with biting wit who likes a good party.”

However, as Ramadan progresses, Bremer contemplates the meaning behind the ritual as she watches Ismail’s strict observance of the fast.  He teaches her that the “greatest jihad . . . of our lives is not the one that takes place on a battlefield, but the one that takes place within our hearts,” and Bremer faces her own intolerance and self-absorption.  She is an excellent student of life, because by watching him, she looks inward to herself and incorporates the meaning of his fast to herself and their marriage.  She wonders: “Is love an endless feast, or is it what people manage to serve each other when their cupboards are bare?”

There is nothing superficial about this anthology nor are these writings so erudite as to be elitist.  You can read them to yourself, read them to your lover but if ever you have loved or been loved, then read them you must.  I have spoken many times about looking deeply into the world around us, and the writers showcased in The Mysterious Life of the Heart do just that.

My Rating: 

Tender Graces by Kathryn Magendie

Virginia Kate Carey has come home to West Virginia to release her mother’s ashes to the wind, but the feral Katie Ivene will not be laid to rest so gently. Powerful as a hurricane roaring through the lives of her husband and three children, Katie Ivene left an alcoholic trail of emotional devastation in her path, because when she loved, she loved magnificently, and when she hated, she hated fiercely.  Virginia Kate’s only hope to bury her mother and her memories is to set free the words that will tell their story, and she does so with aplomb.

In the beginning of Tender Graces, her voice has all the breathless energy and adoration of a five-year-old for her mother.  Yet as Virginia Kate writes of her life and the lives of her two brothers, her tone matures and though Tender Graces grows darker, Virginia Kate’s hope and humor shines through their storms with depth and insight far beyond her years.

This is not your usual saccharine coming of age novel.  North Carolina author Kathryn Magendie tells Virginia Kate’s tale with passion, poetry, and an honesty that will feel brutal at times, but nowhere does she manipulate the reader with cheap literary tricks.  She exhibits her greatest skill when she chronicles the children’s gradual emotional growth and with Virginia Kate’s subtly changing narrative.  Poignant and funny, Tender Graces renders an accurate telling of being a child in an alcoholic home without being preachy or overwrought.

Bravo to Magendie and her debut novel!  I hope we will be seeing more of her work in the future.

My Rating: 

A.D. 62: Pompeii by Rebecca East

It’s no secret that I like time travel themes (see my reviews of Mary Modern and The Mirror).  This one sends bookish Harvard grad Miranda back to the first century Roman empire, and lands her in the ocean near the doomed city of  Pompeii.  Caught in a fishing net, she is soon sold to a wealthy slave owner, Marcus Tullius, and is put to work as a house slave.  At first Miranda is unworried, confident that she can return to her world at the touch of the transmitter implanted in her arm.  Unfortunately, something goes awry with the transmitter and Miranda finds herself stranded in ancient Rome.

Apparently Rebecca East is the pen name of a university professor.  I would venture to guess that her area of expertise is history or archeology, rather than english or literature.  The historical descriptions are detailed and interesting, if a bit reminiscent of a tour book one would purchase at a kiosk when visiting Pompeii.  The characters are rather thinly sketched, and what starts out a detailed historical overview eventually loses steam and degenerates into a typical Master/slave romance.  Even the impending explosion of Vesuvius is barely acknowledged in the end. 

This book had promise, but could have benefited enormously from a good editor.  There was much repetition of thoughts and ideas, and also more than one misspelled word.  Still, it wasn’t so bad that I gave up on it.  I bravely saw it through to the last page.

My Rating: 

In the Forests of Serre by Patricia A. McKillip

When I was twelve-years-old (yes, my Wild Things, I was not hatched old; it only seems that way) I was browsing the stacks at the Reidsville Public Library and found a slim paperback book entitled The Forgotten Beasts of Eld, by Patricia A. McKillip.  It was my first fantasy, and that novel led me to Peter S. Beagle’s The Last Unicorn, then to The Hobbit, and on to a life-long love of fantasy, folklore, and stories.  Most importantly, The Forgotten Beasts of Eld made me a fan of Patricia A. McKillip and her bewitching, beautiful characters.

In the Forests of Serre is an enchanting novel that tells the tale of Ronan, crown prince of the land of Serre, who seeks death through war, because his grief over the loss of his wife and child has made his heart a barren thing.  While riding home, Ronan accidentally kills the prized white hen of the oldest witch in Serre, Brume. Ronan refuses to enter Brume’s cottage of bones, and the witch places a curse on him that will cause him to wander the forest of Serre until he finds her once more.

Thread by thread, Ms. McKillip then weaves into her story the beautiful princess Sidonie; the ancient wizard Unciel; the brash, young wizard, Gyre; and the scribe, Euan. Each character plays a part in Ronan’s tale, and only Patricia McKillip could spin such an intricate yarn about grief, love, and what it means to steal a heart.

With her elegant prose and her rich characters, Ms. McKillip sweeps the reader into a fairy tale as colorful and elaborate as the Unicorn Tapestries. So I invite you to journey to the forest of Serre where “ you never know when and where a tale will become true . . .”

My Rating:

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman

Having read Gaiman’s graphic novel, Coraline, I was eager to dig into his adult fantasy, Neverwhere, but as I moved through this book, I kept experiencing déjà vu. I began rooting through my old paperbacks and found that I had read Neverwhere when it was first published in 1996. I felt good knowing this wasn’t a flashback like having a purple pony dance on your pillow. Not that I would know anything about that. It did happen to a friend of mine, though.

ANYWAY . . .

This is the story of Richard Mayhew, a young businessman in London, who has a good job, a grand heart, and a fiancé who rules him with an iron fist. It is also the story of London Above, London Below, and a girl named Door. (Dragon note: one day I’d like to know about Mr. Gaiman’s fixation with doors . . .)

On his way to dinner with his fiancé, Richard comes across an injured girl lying in the street, and though his fiancé demands that they leave the girl alone, Richard helps her by taking her to his apartment. When she awakens, she tells Richard that her name is Door and that he must find the marquis de Carabas, who owes her a favor and will take care of her. What she doesn’t tell Richard is that her family has been murdered, and that two of the most entertaining villains that I’ve had the good fortune to read are hot on her trail – Mister Croup and Mister Vandemar, who live by the motto: “Things to do. People to damage.”

Unfortunately, after his contact with the marquis and Door, Richard suddenly ceases to exist in London Above. Richard embarks on a trip to London Below where he hopes to find the secret that will allow him to return to his normal life in London Above, but London Below is a place fraught with magic and intrigue. Joining the marquis and Door in their hunt for the killers of Door’s family and pursued by the vicious Croup and Vandemar, Richard struggles to understand himself and the strange new world he inhabits.

Gaiman gives us a wonderful romp with delightful characters. At times laugh out loud funny, poignant, and just plain fun, Neverwhere takes the reader on a wild ride through London Below where nothing is sacred, neither angels nor death.

My Rating: