Category: Historical

‘Bad Girls Never Say Die’ – Jennifer Mathieu

Bad Girls Never Say Die is a book being touted as a feminist reworking of The Outsiders. While it focuses on a group of female characters, the book remains set in the 1960s and – for me – this led to the whole thing having a rather dated premise. If you’re going to rework something seen as such a pivotal text, I wonder why the decision wasn’t taken to set it in modern times and explore modern attitudes.

Nothing much has changed, and perhaps that is part of the point being made.

Our story is told from the viewpoint of Evie, a girl from the wrong side of town who many believe will not amount to much and whose choices are limited not just by money but also by her gender.

Evie experiences a traumatic event. She is rescued by a ‘good’ girl. Scratch the surface though and we see that they are pretty similar. Money does not hide everything.

Though only 15 and always feeling less than her ‘brave’ counterparts, Evie is a character with plenty of spunk. She learns the hard way how this can impact on you and others. Forced to decide just what she wants and how far she’s prepared to go to get it, this is a book that encourages you to think about the mark you want to make on the world.

Interesting idea, and I’m sure it will be loved by many younger female readers.

 

‘Following Frankenstein’ – Catherine Bruton

 

Frankenstein has always had a special place in my reading experience, so as soon as I saw the title I was hooked.

Maggie Walton is the daughter of a man obsessed with Frankenstein’s creation, a man who has brought the family to nothing in his pursuit of the infamous monster. Maggie and her pet mouse, Victor, have grown up with stories of the search for Frankenstein’s creation. So, when her father decides to try one last time to find him, Maggie decides to stow away.

Her journey involves characters from many literary tales. Each plays their part in guiding Maggie to a journey that could not be believed in her wildest imaginings. A journey that involves the son of Frankenstein’s creation.

This was a story that took us through numerous landscapes, and which had – at its heart – the message to look beyond superficial differences and to value people for who they are. For a Frankenstein fan it was a real treat, but I think it could inspire new readers to dip their toes into Shelley’s world.

Thanks to the publishers and NetGalley for allowing me to read this before publication.

‘The Whistling’ – Rebecca Netley

The Whistling is a hauntingly atmospheric story, set on a remote Scottish island and harnessing all the elements of Gothic tales to create a richly satisfying read.

Elspeth is a young woman, left upset after the recent death of her sister, who has come to a remote Scottish island to look after a young girl called Mary. From the moment she arrives she hears strange tales of the house and its inhabitants, the seeds of distrust are sewn and we watch as Elspeth tries to uncover exactly what is happening.

Her young charge is mute and suffers extreme nightmares. Elspeth quickly succumbs to the charms of feeling useful and developing a bond with this young girl who has not spoken since the death of her brother. No one can establish what has happened, but rumours circulate the island and the sense of oppression and menace grows.

As the story progresses we focus on the background to some of the characters, and the development of the suitably eerie island they call home. Unexplained events and strange noises are made to seem quite terrifying, and yet I admired the strength of character shown by Elspeth as she tries to navigate this place.

Perhaps this is to be expected, but our heroine makes mistakes and her own shortcomings are exploited perfectly by those who have a vested interest in maintaining the status quo. The final stages of the book shifted in a not wholly unexpected direction, though I have to say the actual revelation was deftly handled.

This was a book I found myself immersed in, and I’m grateful to the publishers and NetGalley for allowing me the opportunity to read it prior to publication in exchange for my honest thoughts.

 

‘Medusa’ – Jessie Burton

This is a story that deserves to be told, and is wholly relevant now. Thanks to NetGalley for giving me the opportunity to read this before its expected October publication.

Medusa is a character so many feel they know. But in Jessie Burton’s reimagining we get another version of Medusa, one that it’s hard to ignore.

Merina, as she calls herself, has spent the last four years secreted away on a deserted island. She is accompanied by her immortal sisters and her dog. Though she is reasonably content, there is no denying the fact that Merina is lonely and bitterly upset by her treatment at the hands of others.

One day she hears a young boy arrive on the island. Though she doesn’t feel she can meet him in person, she takes the time to talk to the boy and learn his story. She trusts him, and even harbours hope that he may be someone who can overlook her physical appearance. But the young boy, Perseus, has his own story.

While this narrative focuses on Medusa it paints a more sympathetic picture and seeks to encourage us to look beneath the judgments of others. It reminded me of the Carol Ann Duffy poem ‘Medusa’ in its feminist focus on the myth we think we know.

I loved the illustrations in this as they captured the spirit of Medusa, particularly towards the end. The writing was poetic and yet the thing that will remain with me is the haunting depiction of a young girl trying to find her own way in the world.

‘How the One-Armed Sister Sweeps Her House’ – Cherie Jones

In this debut we learn that life in a tropical paradise is definitely not quite the picture-perfect idyll tourists might imagine.

The story focuses on a selection of characters living in a tourist resort in Barbados. Each character is very different, but is united in some way. Some of the stories are brutal, most are deeply upsetting but I loved the determination of each character to make the most of what life was giving them.

I found it a little disorientating initially, switching from character to character. But as we learned of their backstories and saw how they were interwoven over time it was an absorbing read.

The conflict between tourist and local, their interdependency and the bonds established over time were presented honestly. While the separate strands of the stories were bleak, there was a sense of optimism in some aspects that I found offset the potential negativity.

 

‘Let’s Go Swimming on Doomsday’ – Natalie C. Anderson

Thanks to NetGalley for allowing me to read this before its June publication. A harrowing story, but one that should not be ignored.

Our main focus is Abdi, a sixteen year old Somali boy, who – in order to protect his family – was asked by the Americans to infiltrate the jihadi terrorist group Al Shabaab. He vividly recalls the day that Al Shabaab boys came to his town and took his brother. Abdi was thirteen.

Our story is split between the now – when Abdi is being cared for by Sam, a worker for the UN – and then – the process that lead to Abdi being recruited by the group and the activities he was forced to take part in.

There’s no getting away from the fact that the subject matter is tough reading. The indoctrination of children to such groups, and the callous disregard for human life shown by such leaders, is graphically conveyed to us. However, making it clear that Abdi did not participate willingly, and that he is now in fear for his life, meant the book did not seem to glamorise such actions at all.

The details given about how the group operated were fascinating. What struck me, however, was the very real focus on the emotional impact on Abdi and others like him of such groups. There was an emotional honesty to this that is hard to ignore, and I cannot wait to see how it goes down with teen readers.

 

‘Survive the Night’ – Riley Sager

Another solid Sager read, where you suspect one or two of the details thrown your way and are just feeling quite satisfied when another detail is slipped in that throws a curveball. I’m not going to pretend all the film references worked for me, and there is a rather superior tone to this that occasionally had me feeling it was all about being just that bit cleverer than your readers, but I devoured this book. It’s a definite 4.5 stars for me, but I can’t go all in for reasons I’ll explain later.

A gripping read, that depends on some twists coming at you from the darkness so I don’t want to give away crucial details in this review.

We know the book centres on Charlie, a student who is struggling to come to terms with her part in the murder of her room-mate at the hands of the infamous Campus Killer. She is in a car with a relative stranger, Josh, who has offered a lift. Understandably nervous, Charlie cannot decide how much of her fear about Josh is in her head. As they drive, little details hint strongly that Charlie might be right to be afraid. Why won’t he let her see in the trunk? Why does his driving licence have a different name? Why does he follow her out of the diner when she tries to call her boyfriend?

The growing sense of unease as Charlie and Josh travel along quiet roads is palpable. Deliberately slow, but it reels you in. Just when we – and Charlie – think we’ve worked it out, there’s an abrupt shift.

Things pick up the pace after this point (almost too fast on occasion) and we soon find ourselves in a technicolour drama. Charlie’s obvious mental health issues and obsessive film referencing made it difficult to know to what extent she could be trusted at times. There’s a couple of moments where – when you’re not caught up in them – things seem just too convenient. While it was good to get some answers and be vindicated in some judgments, the big revelation rather came from nowhere.

I’m, once again, very grateful to have been given the opportunity via NetGalley to read this prior to publication.

 

‘Malibu Rising’ – Taylor Jenkins Reid

The Riva family are a force to be reckoned with, and Malibu Rising shows us this group at a key moment in their lives. The format is quite simple: 24hours focused on the time around Nina Riva’s infamous annual party.

Having loved the complexity of The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo I can’t help but feel this was a gentler read. Though we watch moments of intense drama, it felt rather detached – as if I were watching some kind of documentary of the lives of the rich and famous (which we had, in book form).

The dynamics of this family group are everything. Part one introduces us to the family and build up to the party. We see Nina, Jay, Hud and Kit and learn a little about each of them/what they’re doing. These four have – after the death of their mother, June, and the well-documented abandonment by their father, pop star Mick – come to rely on one another.

Interspersed with the details of the four children we get the back story to Mick and June, and some elements of that were genuinely heart-breaking. Then we move to part two focusing on the hours of the party and how some of the strands resolve themselves in dramatic fashion.

While I really liked parts of this, the party scene was drawn out and exaggerated to the point of incredulity. It served to illustrate some aspects of the relationships between the family but it seemed to be about setting up a way of instigating a new start for certain characters. There were also some areas that were underdeveloped which I would have liked to see more of.

Closing the book I was struck by the sense of hope and optimism that ran through what was, for the most part, a book about very selfish people hurting each other. It wasn’t quite what I expected, but I still enjoyed it.

 

‘Pride and Premeditation’ – Tirzah Price

There will be readers who dislike this as it’s so different from Jane Austen’s story, and then there will be others who applaud this and take delight in the sense of familiarity while looking for the modern twists. I definitely fall into the latter category.
Pride and Premeditation focuses on Lizzie Bennett and her determination to convince her father that she had what it takes to become a barrister. In this modern version, Lizzie becomes embroiled in a murder investigation, determined to prove that Bingley did not commit murder and that someone else hatched a plan to bring him down.
From the opening pages I found myself loving this. The style is Austen-like and offers a commentary – of sorts – on the society Lizzie is judged by. There’s a few anomalies but these didn’t impede my enjoyment at all.
Great fun…though for readers who don’t know the original it might create something of a shock!

 

‘Madam’ – Phoebe Wynne

If something sounds too good to be true…it usually is. When Rose is offered a job teaching Classics at the prestigious Caldonbrae Hall she isn’t sure whether she’s qualified for the position. As a single young woman with an ailing mother and a father’s shameful secret she is, albeit unwittingly, proving herself to be the perfect candidate.

Arriving at the school she has many questions, but every attempt to learn more about her new role and the environment she has joined is stone-walled. That should have been her first clue that things weren’t quite what she thought.

When, only a couple of weeks into term, the entire upper sixth are taken to London and the students she does get to teach take more interest in baiting her than learning, that should have set some alarm bells ringing. In fact, from the outset there are so many instances of strange occurrences that anyone with half a brain would now this place is not what it seems. It takes Rose a considerable time to start to question what she’s walked into.

The staff and girls at Caldonbrae are unsettling. The wrongness of the situation is evident from early on, but we don’t find out what is happening until considerably later on. Attempts are made by many to justify the environment…and the classical allusions offer an interesting exploration of the ideas and characters.

There is a rather dramatic near-ending and a small glimmer of hope for Rose. Unfortunately, the detail slipped in at the end implies, quite bleakly, that when such behaviour is institutionalised as it is here, it will be nigh impossible to tackle. That’s depressing.