Review: The Good Lord Bird

4 stars. Wow, this was a lot. In a good way. James McBride is so, so talented and clever and focused in a way I haven't seen in historical fiction recently. I really look forward to reflecting on the story and the characters as they are memorable and interesting and admirable in totally misguided ways.

I hate and love that history is so fickle and yet also the guidebook by which we should move forward. History is muddled and vague and written by the winners and therefore we as a species will never truly learn from it. So we should use tools like contemporary, perspective-shifting books like this to educate us and show us the way.

The Good Lord Bird is about a young boy named Henry, who in 1857 is kidnapped by the infamous abolitionist John Brown after the death of his father. Brown mistakes Henry to be a girl, and Henry rolls with it to survive. He accompanies Brown on many journeys and supports his quest to eradicate slavery in his own way, experiencing several adventures - or misadventures - until Brown's doomed raid on Harper's Ferry ends the journey.

It's a classic "famous story told by the unfamous tagalong" book, this time rightly weighted with a deep emphasis on racism, slavery, and power in pre-Civil War America. How do we fully acknowledge the cruel trauma of our own history? How do we acknowledge that we argued over this undeniable crime? How do we acknowledge the motives and complexities of behavior and pure mistakes exhibited on both sides? How do we acknowledge good intentions when they are wielded by someone wrong for the job? How do we acknowledge that, in this story and many others, there are rarely winners or losers and only survivors or victims?

These questions plus many others are wrapped in this book's witty, enticing narrative. The writing is quick and sharp, laugh-out-loud funny at some moments and truly heart wrenching in others. I hope it is widely read by individuals and in classrooms and book clubs, because this is the type of book that should be taught, examined and discussed at length. Entertaining, impressive, important.

The Good Lord Bird on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Devil All the Time

3 stars. Bleak and brutal and everything I expected it to be. This is true Southern Gothic at its best - and its most violent. I'm actually not sure I'll watch the movie, despite the great cast, because it's not the type of story I'd like to see unfold before my eyes other than through words. Like all excellent Southern literature, the setting is a character - sometimes the antagonist, sometimes the narrator, sometimes a neutral observer, sometimes a driving force behind the events that shape the story. It's difficult to imagine this narrative dropped somewhere - anywhere - else and remaining just as captivating; just as good.

I am from the suburbs of Northern Virginia and therefore cannot possibly fully understand the potency of this novel, but I'm incredibly curious if anyone from a similar area experiences pangs of ... recognition? Gratitude? Horror? while reading this story. I'm personally fascinated by the way place shapes a person, so naturally I want to sink my teeth in from that angle. But there's so much here about people, just people. It's about a young boy and the inevitable, twisted impact of his sick and traumatized parents; a murderous couple desperate to answer the call of their criminal instincts; sad and lonely residents of sad and lonely places just trying to survive in damaged ways. 

There's also a symmetry to this story, against which some readers might chafe, but to me it just seemed like narrative planets circled each other before finally kissing in brief and terrible ways. Sort of like ... life is a pretty but very painful carousel. I'm super impressed with the way Pollock wrote women, as well. He managed to capture some nuances of the female character that many authors couldn't dream of spelling let alone writing down. 

I feel a bit hungover from this, a bit like I'm looking at the world through different colored lenses. Pollock doesn't simply lock the door - he locks you in a room of dirt and tears and blood and makes you sit there, wallowing in it, for hours. It's enough to knock you down and make you think for a bit. But I'm glad to have read it, and I'm glad to have experienced Pollock's strong voice and unique vision. It's not for the faint of heart, but we all need a good slap in the face every once in a while. 

The Devil All the Time on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Half-Drowned King (The Golden Wolf Saga #1)

5 stars. I cannot express how grateful I am for stories like this during times like these. The tale of Harald Fairhair's conquest of Viking-age Norway doesn't exactly have the most delightful, funny, feel-good vibes, but every time I slipped into these pages I felt relieved - a true escape. The Half-Drowned King is Harald's origin story told through the eyes of Ragnvald Eysteinsson, a young and skilled warrior attempting to navigate his coming-of-age, his birthright, his complicated family, his allegiances, and his desire for glory. After a harrowing betrayal and attempt on his life, Ragnvard finds himself caught between kings and fates as war descends on his harsh, beloved homeland. 

I quite admire this book because what happens in it is unusual. Sure, we have the usual suspects - revenge, duels, shield walls - but we also have flawed characters making imperfect decisions on wavering, unclear journeys. Solvi and Svanhild's relationship, for example, twists and turns in ways I can't stop thinking about. Ragnvold makes predictable mistakes and unpredictably learns from them; in fact, every major character has ugly qualities as well as heroic ones. None of it - within Hartsuyker's halting and unique prose - feels cliche, or typical, or traditional. It reads like a softer, fresher version of The Last Kingdom, though I reject comparisons to ASOIAF (hi, a book can have swords and more than one POV and not be Game of Thrones, thanks). 

I also really appreciated the way Hartsuyker has her characters look back at the sagas and stories and songs of their history similar to the way we look back at, for example, the sagas of Viking-age Norway. When one character tells another that her experiences sound like something from "one of the old songs," it's a self-aware nod to the nature of Hartsuyker's story. And while that nature for sure has an epic fairy tale flavor to it, this technique also essentially grounds and humanizes her heroes and kings (and queens) and underscores the fact that legends have their own legends; no "age" is untouched by the "age" before it. Legacy is a driving force for her characters. I quite love it when a book doubles down on the importance of stories. 

It's a complicated one, and reading it requires energy and effort. Figures poke at and orbit around each other in patchy, tricky ways. But it is rewarding, with its subtleties and deft plotting and its understanding of identity and honor. The politics, once they click into place, are not difficult to grasp. It is as oddly romantic as it is brutal, and I would hope to see the characters eased of their burdens in the future books. I've grown to love them, and I dread their fates. Still, I look forward to escaping into this dark and magical world for a bit longer. I think I will dream of icy waves and crackling fires and roasted meat tonight. 

The Half-Drowned King on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Mirror and the Light (Thomas Cromwell Trilogy #3)

5 stars. Although I enjoyed this the least out of all three, I can't give it anything less. It is an impressive conclusion to an impressive colossus of historical fiction that should be widely-read and widely-studied for years to come. Hilary Mantel has taken me on what feels like an actual ... ugh, so cheesy ... but an actual journey. The final few sentences are even more breathtaking and heartbreaking than I expected.

We return smoothly back through the door into England almost immediately after we left. Anne Boleyn has been executed and Henry VIII - more volatile every day - needs a new bride. Talented Thomas Cromwell has risen above his common blood to serve as a noble and maintain stability in the English realm, but despite successes and titles and financial security, his job is not an easy one. It is, in fact, a dangerous one. 

Mantel takes her time. She travels, she leans, she slips and slides, she spirals and circles the drain slowly, slowly, slowly. She spells out the story with her ever-challenging, ever-beautiful prose and serves as a steadfast, if not long-winded, guide. Thomas Cromwell's character is painted with sympathy and care - the question of accuracy isn't even on the table. It's just compelling.

I've written about this in my reviews of the first two books, but I love what she does with images. A star, a leopard, a memory, a jewel ... she breathes life into these things, placing them as signposts or symbols throughout the narrative. The level of detail (and the scope of the political intrigues) would be intimidating, if not for the clarity she offers. I never felt as though she asked too much, even with her nicknames and varying names/titles and flashbacks. That's just life: a confusing, very complicated, sad, every man for himself roller coaster ride with the slight, slippery promise of a satisfying conclusion.

I wish there was more.

The Mirror and the Light on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Bring Up the Bodies (Thomas Cromwell Trilogy #2)

"But remember this above all: defeat your instinct. Your love of glory must conquer your will to survive; or why fight at all? Why not be a smith, a brewer, a wool merchant? Why are you in the contest, if not to win, and if not to win, then to die?"

5 stars. Stunning. A beautiful, driven sequel to Wolf Hall, Bring Up the Bodies picks up where we left off: with England in need of an heir. Anne Boleyn has yet to provide, and Thomas Cromwell is there to juggle the rest. Adept as ever, he observes his king grow tired of his new bride and schemes for what's next. 

Compared to Wolf Hall, there's more movement - more forward momentum. The king's Great Matter took almost a decade, but Cromwell is more confident now, more ruthless, more capable. Things move quickly. And truly, the suspense is breathtaking; considering we all know the end to the story. The legal twists and turns are gorgeous and intense.

I felt the portrayal of Anne Boleyn was a bit flat in the first book, but here she is developed and concrete. A worthy adversary for Cromwell and I'm sad to see her go. This version does paint the Boleyns in an incredibly unflattering light, and I do wonder... I guess we'll never know. History, as always, is written by the winners.

I expected Henry VIII to come across as more childish in this book, past his prime and desperate for his legacy intact. For whatever it's worth, I think Henry believed in his good intentions - always. He was not self-aware enough to see the irony in accusing Anne of bewitching him into a marriage with curses and spells. Sigh. Monarchy. "Chosen by God." Causes problems. SMH.

The prose here is so weird and crazy and wonderful. I again felt like I was there, and came to regard the characters not only as real, but as people I actually know. I wouldn't say I rooted for them, necessarily, but seeing so intimately their intentions and motives and ambitions made me feel for them. I don't know how Mantel manages such unique writing with such diverse, distinguished characters. It's deeply impressive, I practically bask in the afterglow of her writing. 

Can't wait to find out what happens! He lives... right?!

Bring Up the Bodies on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: Wolf Hall (Thomas Cromwell Trilogy #1)

5 stars. I feel eaten alive. Wolf Hall is the first in a trilogy about Thomas Cromwell: aide to the king of England during a time of great crisis. England needs an heir. The government needs stability. The Church needs power, and loyalty. The country needs allies, and money. And Henry VIII wants Anne Boleyn. 

Cromwell navigates through it all - the fall of his Cardinal, the squabbling nobles, a mercurial king, two queens - using his sharp mind and deep intellect. It is a spectacular work of historical fiction that's focused not on the sun, but the space around the sun - the objects and empty spaces orbiting and swirling around what appears to be the brightest thing in the sky. What it gives, what it takes, what it feeds and what it burns. 

I've never fallen in love with historical fiction the way I have with this. Every time I picked it up I felt like I was melting into the story, falling down a well, and as cheesy as it sounds, I felt like I was there. It's rich with detail - Mantel knows her shit - but she includes the fun stuff too; the scandalous jokes, the twists and turns, the melodrama, the innuendos, the sex. This is NOT The Other Boleyn Girl, though I respect Gregory's writing a lot too.

I've read a lot ABOUT this book, because it fascinated me so much and I wanted to skirt on the fringes of this world a bit longer. I noticed a couple of common themes and observations among readers, and I'd love a chance to address them and push back a bit. 

First, there seems to be a frequent observation that Mantel writes Thomas Cromwell as cold, calculating, without emotion, ruthless, conniving, manipulative, greedy, power-hungry, and otherwise just generally villainous. While I think it's true that Cromwell was an ambitious and greedy man with a ruthless streak, he used his intellect in ways that were ultimately astonishing. He was complicated, and Mantel writes him as such. I've seen readers question his motives, call him a psychopath, yell at him for "getting over" the loss of his family so quickly, and declare his demise as justified and well-deserved. 

It's an interesting interpretation - to cast him in such a bad light - but I would argue that those readers may have been misled by the dryness of Mantel's prose and her approach to the character. It's not that Cromwell had no emotions, she just didn't write about them, or at least not in the way we're used to.

(I should note that I'm not a fan of Cromwell, I don't sympathize with him and I love that Mantel made him grow to be so arrogant, especially toward the end.)

Second, many readers complain that the prose is boring, dense, challenging, difficult, and the pronoun usage is confusing. Yes - absolutely. The pronoun usage tripped me up a whole bunch. But I didn't mind the density or intensity of the writing, in fact, I rather enjoyed having to sing for my supper. To work so hard was rewarding for my brain. So that's a preference thing, or an English Lit major thing, I don't mind going back to re-read passages, but I wish readers wouldn't complain in such an accusatory way. I was blown away by what Mantel was able to do with certain images and motifs - comparing a face to a thumbnail, what people wear under their clothes, a dog pulling at its own collar...

The thing is, this book is so immersive, so compelling, so detailed and strong in its depiction of a fragile society balancing on the edge of a knife, it felt ... well, familiar. Context is everything. I know this story. We all know this story. And that helps, with the names and the faces and the messy nature of the story. But something about this version of it, or the timing of my reading experience ... I recognize echoes of what happened back then today. Not just the threat of illness or plague, but the sense that the walls are always just on the verge of caving in and we can't really trust anyone but ourselves. The moral struggles - the push and pull of desire and ambition and obligation. And more obviously, the soul-crushing terror of watching a leader fail and a country break. Transfer of power comes to mind...

It's like this: when I think of politics under Henry VIII, I think yeesh, messy. Thank god politics has ... *sits back* ... nope, nevermind, still messy. 

I wonder why we tend to look back on our ancestors and think we are superior - think of them as primitive, dumb, petty; their mistakes and motives and beliefs far removed from us. On the contrary, I think we are still primitive, dumb, petty. Our technology is advanced, we’ve conquered the planet, and we are able to answer so many questions with science, but we still squabble, we still kill each other uselessly, and we are, as always, just as we were then, ego-driven, shallow, motivated by power and greed and questionable beliefs, following distractible leaders surrounded by sycophants. 

When I read a book like this I wonder, should humanity survive the current crisis, what will be written about these times? Who will they write about? Will they look back with contempt and disdain at our misguided communities and think, thank god we’re better? Or will they, like myself, look back and think, we haven’t changed a bit?

"Beneath every history, another history."

Thomas Cromwell has entered the chat.

Wolf Hall on: Amazon | Bookshop.org | Goodreads

Review: The Ten Thousand Doors of January

3 stars. Charming! The Ten Thousand Doors of January is about a young woman in the early 1900's who lives in a mansion full of strange artifacts. Her father comes and goes on mysterious missions and she is stuck under the charge of a strict but seemingly supportive caretaker. Until one day, she discovers a door. And a book.

A magical and enchanting story weaves itself beautifully as January makes friends, learns about her past, and runs into trouble. Sure, it's about excitement and adventure and facing misfortune, but it's also about a woman finding herself - loving herself - doubling down on her very sense of self - when everyone else fails. 

If this was a straight up professional-ish review, I'd rate it higher - it's a good book. Well-paced, well-written and it hits certain spots that many readers are nostalgic for after HP and Wayward Children and Narnia. I adore portal fantasies and felt the familiar "man I wish I could find my door" feeling. I also couldn't put it down!

But since this is more of a reaction than a review, I'll call it trope-y, and I'm docking a star, as I always do, for a UDD (Unnecessary Dog Death - even if it's a fake one). The writing comes across as quaint to me, maybe a little cute. I also don't believe in True Love, and sometimes this felt like a romance disguising itself as a fantasy. And the plot contains IMO many impossibilities, which may kind of be the point, but I like writing that solves its problems with a little more finesse. 

Anyway, I do really love the energy here. It's quirky, fun and a great debut.

The Ten Thousand Doors of January on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: Daisy Jones & The Six

3 stars. Crap. I really wanted to like this one. I admire the premise and respect the author, but this just felt like a big ol' bowl of bland mush to me. 

This book takes the form of an "oral narrative," essentially a collection of related quotes from various players that tell the story. In this case, the "author" has "interviewed" the members of a famous fictional classic rock band from the 70s: Daisy Jones & The Six. We as readers hear firsthand about the formation of the band and its (this is not a spoiler) ultimate demise. 

Under the umbrella of an obvious Fleetwood Mac retelling, there are some really serious and interesting themes explored: the power and intimacy of performance, the pain and emotion of hearing or writing music, the heartbreaking challenge of addiction, the intensity of unrequited love, etc. I enjoyed the author's ability to write succinctly and with style about all of this. I also appreciated the representation of a female character who wanted to take an "untraditional" path in her life. 

I mean some of the passages about music hitting right and about clocking the person you’re attracted to and about the pressure of having to make sacrifices and Big Choices and stuff like that! So good.

However, like I said, it was bland, to me. It needed more pepper. I think this is a personal thing, but I desperately just wanted Billy and Daisy to communicate directly. I know firsthand how the line between hate and love can get blurry, but it's a pet peeve when so much can be solved and worked through with basic communication. And I GET IT - the point was that they communicated with their music. It just personally bugged me.

It also didn't seem very realistic in its depiction of three things: hardcore substance use disorder, creative differences in a famous band, and true love. The drug use is talked about seriously but I never felt like it was horrifying or a real threat to any of the characters. The clash of personalities in the band and musical jealousies were solved way too quickly. And the loyalty and trust of Billy's wife was WAY over the top angelic. What an obnoxious saint.

And, of course, as with her other books, the author wrapped this up in a neat little bow. Too neat. Ugh, I don't know, am I being too harsh? I couldn't put it down, that's for sure! And I did really love the way music was used and described and explored. My mind just really wasn't blown. On to the next. 

Daisy Jones & The Six on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Last Kingdom

2019 CHALLENGE: 1 RE-READ PER MONTH 11 / 12

5 stars. I'm taking some time off from work to travel, and my latest trip was to Denmark. Boy, is that place very epic and very awesome. Copenhagen was cozy AF; they really embrace the hygge there. It got me thinking about one of my favorite books, The Last Kingdom, which features some wonderfully savage viking Danes. And because in the winter time all I want to read is old school stuff about food halls and clanging swords, I thought it'd be perfect for my reading challenge.

This time, as opposed to the first time I read it (and the first time I watched the adaptation series), I really got this. It's about a man named Uhtred, a young English nobleman kidnapped and raised quite happily by the Danish warriors raiding his homeland. Throughout the story, the Danes successfully invade three of England's four kingdoms and are left facing Wessex, ruled by the pious King Alfred. Uhtred, with English blood and Danish loyalties, is caught in the middle.

It's the type of book that begs to be read aloud by a crackling fire under a cozy blanket, with a cup of ale or mulled wine in your hand, maybe with a plate of bread and cheese. Uhtred tells his story with incredible clarity and breathtaking action - the battle sequences are among the best I've ever read. This is perhaps cliche, but you will feel as though you are there. It feels so real.

History basically blows my mind, so I loved the level of detail as well. I learned so much about life back then - the little things, like basic traditions and habits of daily life - and the big things, like how people considered power and religion and family and identity. It is cinematic and sweeping with a lot of (excellent) characters yet Uhtred allows us a focused gaze, which is helpful. 

I particularly enjoyed the emphasis on religion. The clash of the two religions (England's Christianity and Danish paganism) is paid a great deal of attention, and I found the conflict, despite knowing its deep and profound significance, kind of amusing. The scene (I'm being intentionally vague here) involving Saint Sebastian and the arrows is one of the best scenes of literature I've ever encountered. Entertaining, brutal, and funny.

Keep in mind that, as other readers have mentioned, The Last Kingdom employs a writing style that may not appeal to everyone. It's brittle, it's detail-heavy, and it almost appears at first glance emotionless. This worked for me, but I'm sure it was boring for others. I'm just really attracted to that sort of smooth, cut-and-dry, concise, unapologetic writing and find it cleanly captivating.

I have this weird thing where I start series and never finish them, so one of my challenges next year will be to fix that. I'M STARTING HERE. I really love this book.

The Last Kingdom on: Amazon | Goodreads

Review: The Name of the Rose

2019 CHALLENGE: 1 YOU HAVEN'T READ THAT YET?! PER MONTH 09 / 12

5 stars. I'm reminded of a quote from the film adaptation of The Da Vinci Code, of all things: "who is God, who is man? How many have been murdered over this question?"

[I am NOT comparing the two - they exist on different planets. Maybe in the same galaxy, though.]

The Name of the Rose is not an easy read. I might actually suggest a perusal of the Wikipedia page upon finishing just to tighten any loose knots. I had no trouble comprehending the basics, but the details - and in some cases the dialogue - were difficult to grasp. I have no shame in admitting I needed a dictionary! The details are really what makes this incredible, though.

As soon as William of Baskerville, a Franciscan friar, and his novice Adso arrive at a Benedictine abbey in Italy, they are greeted with trouble. A monk has been found dead under mysterious circumstances, and the abbot asks William to investigate. Through Adso's eyes we watch the mystery deepen and the bodies pile up.

This is not your typical cut-and-dry crime novel, though. William, an obvious Sherlock Holmes type, soon discovers that his basic investigation will have a broader and more complicated impact than he could ever imagine. And the more he pulls on threads, the higher the stakes climb.

I'm not a religious person, but I am deeply interested in religion. After all, it inspires so much good, and so much evil, and I so totally understand the power and the comfort of its rituals. I truly enjoyed Eco's wordy explorations of holy motivations and sin and religious priorities and heresy and belief. He ardently admires and carefully exposes the church with stunning dexterity and poise. The arguments, and the what-ifs, are fascinating.

Don’t worry, there's "cool stuff" here too: a literal library labyrinth, brutal murders, intense courtroom drama, sex, poison, and more. Despite being so challenging, I would describe this as a pageturner - I couldn't wait to pick it back up when I put it down.

But it's certainly not for everyone and it's certainly not a beach read. This is for those in a contemplative, studious mood. There are passages that are, quite honestly, Extra AF. I, Kelly, give you permission to skim these (as well as the Latin), because NOBODY WILL DIE and your reading experience won't suffer. I learned this reading Henry James - stop trying so hard, let the words wash over you, and ride the wave to the end.

The Name of the Rose on: Amazon | Goodreads