Light reading

An Excerpt: Willows of Fate — Suzanna J Linton

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willows of fate banner This is my stop during the blog tour for Willows of Fate (Lands of the Sun and Stone series #1) by Suzanna J Linton. This blog tour is organized by Lola’s Blog Tours. The blog tour runs from 3 till 16 October, you can view the complete tour schedule on the website of Lola’s Blog Tours. WillowsofFateFinalWillows of Fate (Lands of the Sun and Stone series #1) by Suzanna J Linton Genre: Urban Fantasy Age category: Adult Release Date: October 3, 2014

Blurb: Know thyself… All her life, Desdemona has seen things others haven’t. Dragons, knights, dwarves, kids with three eyes. Heeding her mother’s advice, she keeps silent about this and struggles through life, pretending everything is normal. At her mother’s death, Desdemona returns to a home haunted with memories but she is determined to not be shaken from what little normalcy she has. However, when her brother is murdered and she uncovers a family secret, Desdemona realizes that there is more to what she sees. Perhaps a whole other world, one that’s willing to kill to have her as its own.

Excerpt: I pick up the first journal, the one I’d fallen asleep while reading, and flip until I come to place where I’d left off. An image of the teenager in the photograph fills my mind, writing the words in these pages as I read them. Time ticks by as the sun eases through the afternoon, drawing light slowly from the room until Eric is forced to flick on the overhead.
I wince and rub my eyes. Tense shoulder muscles tangle in a snarl and I roll them.
“Maybe we should take a break,” Eric suggests.
“Maybe. Have you come across anything useful?”
He shakes his head. “Just paranoid rantings, as far as I can tell. Sometimes it’s lucid. She talks about childhood memories or things that have gone on at the nursing home.”
“What kind of paranoia?”
“People stealing her things. People watching her. She complains that someone comes into her room every now and again and reorders it or knocks things over.”
My face feels cold as the blood drains away.
Eric frowns. “What is it?”
I shake my head, looking back down at the journal in my hands. “Nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
I close the book and stand. “I’m going for a walk.” Turning, I stride toward the hallway.
His chair scrapes back as he springs to his feet. “Desdemona, wait.”
I stop in the doorway and face him, crossing my arms. “What?”
“This isn’t going to work if you hide things from me.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“Bullshit.”
Scowling, I glare at him.
He moves to stand in front of me. “Des.” His voice is soft. Soothing. Like I’m a frightened filly and he seeks to calm me. “You can trust me. To get through this, you’re going to need to trust someone.”
His summer-blue eyes plead with me. Maybe there are those who can stand alone in the worst of situations, relying on inner strength and commitment to see them through. I am not one of those. My resolve crumbles beneath those eyes. I step back, his hands slipping away.
“I see things, too,” I tell him.
He frowns. “Things? Like Samantha sees?”
“Not like what she sees. I see and experience the exact same things.”

You can find Willows of Fate on Goodreads SuzannaAbout the Author: Suzanna Linton became a writer the first day she picked up a pencil, scribbling happily in magazines and books. Growing up in (very) rural South Carolina, she was steeped in legends and ghost stories and was surrounded by her mother’s ever-growing book collection. She graduated from Francis Marion University with a degree in Professional Writing and bounced from job to job until she landed in a library, where she met her now-husband. She lives with him in South Carolina with their two dogs and cat. You can find and contact Suzanna here: – Website – Facebook – Twitter – Goodreads There is a tour wide giveaway for the blog tour of Willows of Fate. These are the prizes you can win: – e-copy of Willows of Fate through smashwords – 20$ amazon gift card Enter the rafflecopter below for a chance to win: a Rafflecopter giveaway
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“Knowing that you’re crazy doesn’t make the crazy things stop happening.” ― Mark Vonnegut

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My illness and I

The Shock of the Fall – Nathan Filer

I picked up this book while stranded at Liverpool street train station after yet another one of my trains was cancelled, I’d been at a stag do for the weekend and I was hungover, grumpy, and needed something to take my mind off things. I haven’t had much time to read just because I wanted to recently. Reviewing books for people has taken over my life a little bit. I hadn’t heard of the book by name but when I turned it over and looked at the blurb I read this:

‘I’ll tell you what happened because it will be a good way to introduce my brother. His name’s Simon. I think you’re going to like him. I really do. But in a couple of pages he’ll be dead. And he was never the same after that.’

Now this I had read before. I’m not sure where, but I had definitely read this and had my interest piqued once before. So I took the plunge, shelled out the £7.99 WHSmiths were asking for and decided to read it. I’d pretty much finished by the time I finally got home to Cambridge. It really is as un-put-down-able as they come. And my afternoon spent reading it made me realise the importance of taking the time to read for pleasure, which I really have been neglecting a little too much recently.

Anyway I digress, on with the review.

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Nathan Filer, grew up near Bristol in the UK, and initially trained as a mental health nurse at the University of West England. Following this he worked a researcher in department of psychiatry at the University of Bristol and as a psychiatric nurse in several inpatient mental health facilities. Filer is currently employed as a lecturer in creative writing at Bath Spa University, as well as performing and writing for TV and Radio. In 2013, Filer published his first novel, The Shock of the Fall, which went on to win the 2013 Costa Book Awards for Best First Novel and Book of the Year.

In his debut novel Filer introduces the reader to Matthew Holmes, a 19-year-old mental health patient. In a bid to understand his own problems, Matthew turns to writing, writing his own story – this story forms the pages of The Shock of the Fall. Matthew’s memoirs start with what he sees as the beginning of his mental health issues – the ‘shock of the fall’ which led to the untimely death of his older sibling, Simon. Wracked by guilt over his death, even much later on his life, Matthew writes, sometimes on a computer at the community centre, other times on an old typewriter donated to him by his beloved grandmother ‘Nanny Noo’. The book is a fantastic amalgamation of drawings, letters, diagrams and passages of thought written with varying typefaces, presenting a fascinating yet harrowing image of one man’s descent into madness.

When I was a teenager I read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, which initiated my interest in novels written from unusual perspectives. Those of you who know me will no doubt be aware of this, I often recommend the book to people, and you will find the booked proudly positioned on my ‘Favourites’ page. Now, often when I am choosing a book to read I will be most drawn towards those which offer something a little different, be it a strange perspective, writing style or genre. So when flicked through the pages of The Shock of the Fall at Liverpool Street, I knew it was a book for me as soon as I saw the different typefaces, the scratchy drawings and randomly placed text. Needless to say it’s been a while since I have been touched by a novel in this way.

Firstly I would like to talk about Filer’s introduction; we meet Matthew [Matt], and are introduced to Simon through the first section of the book – The girl and her doll. This first chapter instantly captivated me. It is this point, the moment when Matthew first saw the young girl and her doll that all of Matt’s problems started, or at least, this is the beginning he has given us. There is something so mysterious and fascinating about this scene, a young boy, hiding around behind some bins, watching a mysterious girl hold a funeral for a small rag doll. I didn’t necessarily expect to find out the meaning behind this scene [even though I desperately wanted to] I was more expecting it to be a pitch to get the reader interested, and it worked. Eventually, I forget about the girl and her doll, or at least forget to remember to be interested in her, because as a reader you are given so much more to be interested in.

The main thing we are given to be interested in is of course Simon. I’ve already revealed that Simon died, and I don’t feel bad about unleashing that ‘spoiler’, because it’s not really a spoiler at all. The passage is written on the back of the book, and Matt lets us known about Simon’s death very early on. The reader is kept waiting to find out the circumstances of Simon’s death, however. Matt’s method of writing leaves a lot to the imagination, allowing the reader to form their own conclusions for an almost frustratingly long time. One thing that is made very clear is that Matt feels he is responsible for Simon’s death.  Even though he really only lives through Matt’s thoughts and memories, Simon is central to the book. At its core, everything is about Simon, and the effect of Simon’s death on those around him, predominantly, but not only, Matt.

For Matthew’s mother, grief was most easily dealt with by keeping Matt at home, close to her. She mothered him, or tried to.  In reality this made things even more difficult for Matt, a young boy struggling to cope after the death of his older brother. Matt resents his mother for keeping him home from school and for stopping him from socialising with his friends, effectively making him into the ‘weird’ kid.

For Matt, grief is far more complicated; it is on-going, all-encompassing and further intensified not only by his guilt but something much, much darker – an illness which ‘slithers through the branches’ of his family tree. In Matt’s story, his grief, and indeed his illness are epitomised in his ‘special project’ a combination ant-farm/science-project:

‘Nanny looked around my living room; her face was pale. I think she needed to sit down, but there wasn’t any space. The whole floor, the chairs, the table, every surface was taken over. I had filled hundreds of bottles and jars with earth, connecting groups of them together with plastic tubing. The Hydrogens were already up and running – they’re the easiest to build – a single proton and a single electron. I had made ten of these because we are made of ten per cent hydrogen. The Oxygens took more work, two electrons in the first shell, and six in the outer shell. Then I would pair them up, colliding a pair of electrons from each to make the covalent bonds. This often smashed the glass, so most of the ants had escaped. The carpet was crawling with them.’

This ‘special project’, is Matt’s way of attempting to recreate his brother. He has combined the memory of Simon wanting an ant farm, with some knowledge he picked up in a school science class – everyone is made of the same atoms. In Matt’s mind he must therefore contain a part of Simon, and so Simon must still exist.  It is this point in the book that the extent of Matthew’s illness, the terrifying realisation comes out in full. When his grandmother sees his ‘special project’, and realises that Matthew has been singled out by the same illness which claimed her brother: ‘Nanny pressed a tissue to her lips, “we need to get you some help.”’

By writing his story this is exactly what Matt is trying to do, to help himself.

Matt’s writing perfectly traces his journey through the mental health system. The changing typefaces and scratchy drawings seem to mirror the times he is writing about. When Matt writes about his time locked away inside a mental institution he does it while locked up inside his flat, ignoring the persistent knocks of his community support workers:

‘KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Knock knock KNOCK KNOCK. They are outside, standing at my door, they are peering through the letter box, they are listening to me type. They know I’m here.’

It is while locked within his apartment that Matt revisits the time when Simon completely monopolised his life. While inside the institution, thoughts of Simon regularly invaded his mind, and Simon himself often came to visit:

‘I didn’t even get out of bed. I just leant over the side and slowly lifted the overhanging sheets. The giggle turned into a squeal of delight. “I knew it was you.” His face was painted orange with black stripes, and the tip of his nose was a smudge of black with lines drawn for whiskers. “I’m a tiger,” he grinned. “Do I look like a tiger?”’

Even as Matt writes his story, Simon is still with him. Towards the end of the book, when Matt, meets once again with Annabelle, the girl he witnessed having a funeral for her doll all those years ago, Simon is there:

‘Simon was in the movement of her hair. He was in the little yellow coat as it billowed in the wind.’

Matt meeting with Annabelle once again was a perfect beginning for the end of his story. In talking to Annabelle, he begins to tie up his loose endings and realises what he needs to do in order to let go of Simon once and for all.

Throughout Matt’s story when he writes about his illness he repeats the same words and phrases. The illness is a part of him, and so he often refers to ‘My illness and I’, as though through everything he does, his illness is there with him, and there is no escaping it. With an illness such as Matt’s there really is no way of escaping it, but it seems as though, once you have reached the end of the book Matt is writing from a place where he has finally come to accept his illness.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of The Shock of the Fall. I really don’t feel as though I can recommend this book highly enough. I have already suggested it to a number of my friends, and will continue to do so until I have several people with whom to discuss it. A huge would recommend. Whoever you are, you will not regret it.

“Great empires are not maintained by timidity.” ― Tacitus

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When in Rome

Inceptio and Perfiditas – Alison Morton

Having shown a keen interest in all things Roman since the age of 11, Alison Morton is a self-proclaimed ‘Roman nut’. She recounts how walking on the mosaic floors of the old Roman City in Ampurias started her wondering what a Matriarchal Roman society would have been like. This set the background for her alternative Roman history trilogy, the Roma Nova series. The first book in the trilogy, Inceptio, was published in 2013, with Perfeditas and Successio following soon after.

Inceptio

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In the first book of the trilogy Morton introduces the reader to Karen Brown; a seemingly ordinary marketing assistant who lives for her weekends spent volunteering at a New York country park. Her life is turned upside down when, following an altercation with a disruptive park visitor, she finds herself dismissed from her position. This is just the beginning, as Karen’s position as sole heir to her father multi-million dollar company leaves her as the target of government enforcer Jeffery Renschman. Her choice: stay in New York and risk being eliminated by Eastern United States Government, or flee to the mysterious Roma Nova, the European homeland of her late mother. Karen makes the not-so-difficult decision to see what Roma Nova has in store for her, only to find that her troubles have crossed the Atlantic.

The opening few pages of a book are often the most important, from a reader’s perspective at least. As soon as I started reading Inceptio I knew I was going to like it. There was no slow introduction to the story, with Morton instead opting to get straight in with the action. We are introduced to Morton’s main character, initially known as Karen, right after she bloodied the nose of a delinquent adolescent in the county park where she voluntarily spends her weekends. Despite this somewhat lively introduction to Karen, we are made aware straight away that that this is out of character for her: ‘I hadn’t knocked anybody down since junior high, when Albie Jolak had tried to put his hand up my sobbing cousins skirt’.

I found I sympathised with Karen, but not with the Karen in the book as such, but with the Karen she had been, before the book began. In the first chapter and a half, you get a sense of the woman Karen had been before made the mistake of punching the son of the second most powerful man in the country. The old Karen, the Karen before her life was turned upside down, seemed placid, and a little unfazed by life, working for money, without really caring about the job itself, like a shadow in the back of the office. Of course, given the colourful opening of the book, it’s obvious that Karen’s life is about to take a turn, but hard to tell if it will be for better or worse.

I don’t want to go too much into the plot with this review, for fear of revealing any spoilers, of which there are many. Needless to say the storyline that follows is certainly a gripping one. Morton feeds the reader small titbits of information, allowing them to come to the same realisations as the characters, while leaving the final aspects of the plot hidden until the very end, making for a satisfying read. While I liked the story that Morton created for her readers, I do feel that Inceptio serves first a foremost as a settling in novel of sorts, where the reader is introduced to the main characters, and the Roma Novan way of life, paving the way for the other books in the series. I think this is often inevitable for the first book in a series, however, and do not begrudge this fact.

There are several aspects of Morton’s work within this book that I really enjoyed. The first and possibly most important of which is Karen’s character. I think Karen is fantastic, but I also find her horribly frustrating. As Karen makes the journey to Europe she sheds her old identity, and seems to slip effortlessly into her new role as Carina Mitela, granddaughter of one of the most important women in Roma Nova. She is undoubtedly pleased with this turn of events, but finds herself craving freedom. She has gone from having an admittedly fairly mediocre but laissez faire life to being watched over constantly – anyone is bound to be a little overwhelmed by this. Now, the thing I find frustrating about Carina is her choice to sneak around and attempt to escape the eyes of those watching out for her security; it’s just asking for trouble. Of course she is frustrated, but she is also needs security, there are, after all, people trying to kill her – it just seems a little selfish and immature to me.  I am torn though, as it is also Carina’s independence, which makes her such a fantastic character. If it wasn’t for her perseverance and drive she wouldn’t have left the EUS, or become the, let’s be honest, kick ass character she develops into. Morton transforms her character from the ordinary marketing assistant who was Karen Brown, to a sassy, character changing, ninja in the form of Carina Mitela, a woman able to rub shoulders with some of the most dangerous characters in Roma Nova, while continuing to serve her family and country. Exactly the kind of woman you would hope to find in a matriarchal society.

Another thing I enjoyed about the book, which I am a real sucker for at times, was the relationship between Carina and Conrad. A blossoming romance I found myself hanging onto throughout the book. My image of Conrad, developed through Karen’s descriptions of this mysterious man, portrayed a Scandinavian Alexander Skarsgård figure, wholly divine.

‘His colleague was more than striking blonde hair long enough to slick back behind his ears. And tall. Several inches taller than me, even. Above a smiling mouth and straight nose marred by a scar, his eyes were tilted slightly upwards, red brown near the iris, green at the edges’.

While I loved the romance between the couple, I also enjoyed the fact that they’re relationship did not follow a traditional path, and although there is a definite love story within Inceptio, it is by no means central to the plot.

On the whole I found Inceptio to be an entertaining read and a great introduction to the world of Roma Nova.  I can really appreciate the work that must have gone into creating a book such as this. Morton has left no stone unturned in her creation of the alternate historical timeline, which bore Roma Nova. The book starts with ‘The boring stuff’, for those not familiar with the history of Rome, a category of which I am a member and so found very useful. Morton has also laid out every aspect of the country for the reader to discover in plain sight, the government structure, military, family values, traditions and even holidays, Saturnalia instead of Christmas, the importance of family day, the presence of the family courts and importance of the female figure head of the family. Nothing is left out, which helps to give the reader a very clear picture of this new and exotic place.

Perfiditas

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In the second book of the trilogy Perfiditas, the reader once again meets with Karen Brown, in her new and transformed state as Captain Carina Mitela of the Praetorian Guard Special Forces. Carina finds herself once more at the receiving end of an attempt on her life, which throws her full force into the depths of an extensive underground conspiracy to topple the government of Roma Nova. Taking matters into her own hands, as usual, Carina calls on some old acquaintances known for operating outside of the law to aid her in her quest to uncover the perpetrators and save her beloved homeland, a move which threatens to ruin both her credibility, and her marriage. The plot thickens, as Carina finds herself at risk, not only from the conspirators who seem determined to ruin her, but also from the very government she strives to protect.

Perfiditas picks up several years after the end of Inceptio, allowing for a more intense storyline, and less settling in. Morton is able to build up more of a storyline, and focus less on background and character development. This gives way to a really gripping plotline. Several times throughout the book things are completely turned upside down, adding a whole new dimension to story and prying a surprised gasp from the mouth of the reader at the end of each chapter.

One of the things I think I liked most about Morton’s second book, though, was the group she created to overthrow the government of Roma Nova. The PFPP – Paterfamilias Patria Potestas are most simply described as ‘a fundamentalist group, believing literally in the original Roman tribal values’. The group want to overthrow the matriarchal system that Roma Nova is founded upon, and are dismissed as living in the past, with one character describing their values as ‘only two and a half thousand years out of date’. The realistic nature of this group really spoke to me; in any society there are those who are anti-establishment, so such groups are bound to arise in some form or another. In a society founded on gender, this seems even more inevitable, as modern times bring forward the desire for equality or, the call for an overhaul of traditional gender roles.

Love once again comes into play in Perfiditas, but in a very different way to Inceptio. When Carina is forced to go undercover after having been framed as a conspirator she is initially devastated at having to distance herself from her family:

‘Normally, I relished the buzz of going undercover on an operation. But no adrenaline raced through my body now. I had no doubt I’d been on the brink of being arrested as a conspirator; I’d been trapped into deserting my post so would be pursued; I was cut off from my family, my children and my love. A cold wave washed through me. Deep down, I had never felt so alone.’

This image of Carina mourning her lost family is not a regular occurrence, however, and she does slip into her undercover role, a little too comfortably, and quickly falls back into allegiance with a group of old, less than legal, acquaintances. As she spends more and more time undercover, Carina becomes increasingly aware that she is developing feelings towards one of her criminal friends, feelings which, when resigned to, threaten to completely overwhelm her.

This aspect of the novel came as quite a surprise. Given the intensity of the relationship between Carina and Conrad in Inceptio, I did not expect her to ever look at anyone else. However, the fact that she does makes her all the more real in my mind. Carina is a person like everyone else; despite the things she achieves, she is not infallible. When this aspect of Carina comes out in the book, it seems almost inevitable that something will slip out of place. In admitting to herself her feelings, Carina lets her guard down, allowing herself to become blind to that which is right in front of her. When the reality of the situation comes to light, Carina is left not only knowing that she missed something, but with a feeling of betrayal so deep it is hard to shake, even as a reader.

Overall, I found that Perfiditas followed nicely in the footsteps on Inceptio, while succeeding in standing on its own two feet. The book has a fast paced and exciting storyline, in which it is easy to become absorbed. Morton grants the reader access to Carina’s inner thoughts, allowing the reader and Carina to puzzle though the mysteries and come to the same conclusions at exactly the same time. I felt breath catch in my throat when I read the lines ‘”I’ll never forget those black eyes.” She caught her breath, “They bored into me. I don’t think I’ve ever been so frightened in the whole of my life”’. Morton ensures that the reader known exactly to whom the black eyes belong, and that you are just as surprised, and heartbroken, as Carina.

Looking at the Roma Nova series as whole so far, there were a few things I found slightly problematic. Firstly, I was slightly irritated by Morton’s reference to non-Roma Novan reality. I picked up on references to Gladiator, James Bond, and Madame Butterfly. While I can’t say these references are incorrect, or shouldn’t be there, as the books are first and foremost fiction, and so Morton has poetic license to do as she pleases, I personally I feel these references were slightly out of place. I don’t feel they added much to the story itself – they were fleeting remarks more than anything, or comparisons in passages, which were already well described – and so I feel would have been better left out.

My other slight gripe, is that I found the books to be slightly too fast paced given the complicated nature of some of the names. Even with the glossary I found it difficult at times to keep up with who was who, and what exactly was happening, I occasionally found myself needing to reread whole chapters.  It took me quite a while to read both Inceptio, and Perfiditas I am normally quite a fast reader.

Despite a couple of minor irritations I did find both books to be entertaining and most impeccably written, both from a grammatical and literal viewpoint. I continue to be astonished the level of detail in which each book is written, Roma Nova really is a very thoroughly laid out alternate history series, and for this I applaud Morton. I would recommend any mystery or thriller fans wanting to try something new to look up the Roma Nova series.

Many thanks to Alison Morton for providing me with free review copies of Inception and Perfiditas.

“You can’t patch a wounded soul with a Band-Aid.” ― Michael Connelly

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Invisible illness

Thank You for Your Service ― David Finkel

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David Finkel, author of the New York Times bestselling book The Good Soldiers- a journalistic account of the lives of the men from the 2-16 infantry battalion on the front lines of Baghdad, emerges once again with a gripping addition to his work – Thank You for Your Service. This new book takes a look into the lives of soldiers who serve in Iraq, this time with a glimpse into what happens when they return home.

In Thank You for Your Service, Finkel meets with men from 2-16 to look at the way the war has affected their lives outside the battlefield. First person accounts of adjusting to life outside Iraq throw light on a new war fought by many soldiers, this time with themselves.

The wars of the 21st century have been well covered by journalists, reporters and authors from across the world, but none like Finkel. He presents a harrowing account of the psychological state of many of our modern war veterans.

The book begins with an introduction to Adam Schumann – “the great soldier who one day walked in the aid station and went through the door marked COMBAT STRESS and asked for help”. After making the difficult decision to return home, Schumann is plagued by nightmares, flashbacks, memory loss and crippling depression. Other veterans featured include Tausolo Aieti, who forever sees the image of his fallen comrade in his dreams asking the question “why didn’t you save me?”; and widow Amanda Dorster as she struggles to comprehend life without her husband.

The book presents an in-depth analysis of the psychological condition of war veterans from first person accounts and psychological analysis from professionals. The most common conditions suffered by those returning from the battlefield are post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and traumatic brain injury (TBI). While many people have heard of these conditions, not much is actually known about them. Finkel uses soldiers’ own accounts to put them into perspective.

PTSD is the psychological damage caused by experiencing traumatic events, such as those experienced by Schumann, who carried a wounded comrade down a flight of stairs, with blood from the man’s head wound pouring into his mouth – a taste and smell he cannot shake. Symptoms of PTSD can include depression, flashbacks, nightmares and anxiety. While TBI stems from physical brain trauma, such as that experienced by Aieti, who was in a Humvee travelling down a route lined with palm trees, when the vehicle rolled over three buried 130 mm artillery shells “everything was right and boom it happened so fast”.

TBI can cause memory loss, confusion and impulsivity, and issues with balance, with sufferers struggling to carry out the simplest of tasks.

Many people are unaware of these issues and the extent to which they affect those returning from war. Finkel’s research shows it is a much graver issue than many expect, with PTSD affecting 20-30 per cent of US soldiers deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan.

The intimate encounters relayed in the book give a clear and frightening portrayal of the long-term effect of being in a warzone, the terrifying psychological state of veterans and the stigma surrounding psychological illness. The book relays diary entries, conversations, court cases, and tales of abuse and suicide, exploring in detail the far-reaching effects of war as it leaks into the homes of the veterans.

For the soldiers and their families, the journey to recovery is tough. Many soldiers are faced with the realisation that society is far less understanding of psychological illness than they are of physical conditions. Widow Amanda Dorster was given US$100,000 dollars in death gratuity, which she refers to “oops money” or “blood money”, while in the Schumann household money has never been tighter since Adam returned from the Iraq.

Finkel follows Schumann’s return home from Iraq, to the time when, years later, he graduates from the Pathway Institute for war veterans, and continues his healing at home with his family.

The book serves as an almost novelistic account; such is the intimacy of the stories and conversations between families, and the emotions expresses by soldiers and their spouses.

Thank You for Your Service is an incredibly thought-provoking and gripping book – the writing methods and use of first person accounts render the text incredibly accessible. I would echo the thoughts expressed in many other reviews of this volume and in urging anyone interested in PTSD and the events of the Iraq war to read Finkel’s work.

This review was first published in Global: the international briefing. Many thanks to Scribe for providing a free review copy of the book.

“Scratch any cynic and you will find a disappointed idealist.” ― George Carlin

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The road is rough

The Humanitarian – N Caraway

This month I have the pleasure to present to you a book I’ve been involved in re-releasing as well as reviewing –The Humanitarian. If you like the review then please head on over Amazon where the new edition is available to purchase on kindle and as a paperback.

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N Caraway was born in 1957 and grew up in a picturesque village in rural Cambridgeshire. In 2002 Caraway and moved to Nairobi, Kenya, and began working for the United Nations in South Sudan, experiencing the country during the final years of the Sudanese civil war. This experience sets the background for his first novel, The Humanitarian, which was published in 2012. There is little further information available about Caraway’s working life up to this point, but the flavour of the text gives a clear impression that this has been written by someone who has dedicated his life to working in places like those he describes and has, like so many others (Paul Theroux springs to mind), come to question the validity of what he and others like him are doing.

Through an ageing diary found abandoned in a B&B bedroom Caraway introduces the reader to Richards, an ageing United Nations official, beginning his final mission to a remote region in South Sudan. Richards is a troubled man who, as he draws closer to a life outside the bureaucracy of development, finds himself beginning to doubt his significance in the world of which he is a part. Feelings of detachment give way to memories of times long past, and almost forgotten. As his isolation deepens, so too does his despair in humanity, and his past threatens to crumple the carefully constructed cocoon of security within which he has encased himself. As the mission draws on, and Richards slips further and further into an abyss of isolation and self loathing, the chance of redemption arises in the form of an unlikely friendship with a young priest. Will this meeting be the aid Richards needs to rediscover his faith in humanity, or is it already too late?

I found this piece to be a very insightful read. Caraway was able to sketch a remarkably vivid representation of the camp, the area, and the struggles through the eyes of the disillusioned Richards. Perhaps it sounds clichéd, but at times I felt as though I was there, in the rank, stifling heat of Richards’ tent, as he lay awake with only his thoughts for company.  The story sheds real, first person insight on the harsh and unforgiving environment of a war-torn landscape. Through Richards’ short diary, Caraway provides an insight into the inner workings of the UN, and the disillusionment felt by some of the aid workers at the core of the institution. As well as this, the book serves as an interesting analysis of the ideological implications involved in carrying out aid in remote areas which are not fully understood by the organisations involved.

Caraway’s medium serves as a live stream into Richards’ consciousness, as though Richards’ is projecting his mind onto the pages of his ‘yellow exercise book’.  Caraway’s style is very distinct and unique, using evocative language and long, somewhat rambling yet eloquent sentences which provide an insight into the inner workings of Richards’ despair riddled mind:

‘The date is a hard, concrete element in the swaying flux that has swallowed me up and made me disappear. I can hold onto it, like a shipwrecked sailor holding onto a lifeline, or like Theseus in the labyrinth holding onto the thread that will guide him out, a thread that started in Nairobi and led through Loki and then out here into the darkness beyond.’

Years spent working for institutions providing aid for struggling communities has left Richard disillusioned, he has become apathetic, someone who no longer believes in the work of development agencies. Caraway has told a story I’m sure many people involved in development research and humanitarian aid can relate to. He describes the moral doubt in the work of which he is part, the self-questioning and more than anything else the overwhelming feeling of impotence in the face of suffering – the relentless provision of spontaneous food drops, and crude privies in the hope that the effects of these short term solutions will carry through to the long term.

‘I let my eyes travel round the circle of blank faces. Who were these people, how far had they come, how long had they waited for us to show up, and what did they really think this strange meeting was all about? These people were the real mystery, doubly isolated by language, strangers even to the Sudanese. I doubted they would benefit from any relief supplies, in any case. The distributions took place down below at the airstrip and they never went down there.’

Linked to Richards’ disillusionment are the haunting thoughts of his past, which invade his sleeping, and waking hours. Through Richards’ eyes Caraway using incredibly evocative language, allowing the reader a very personal insight into Richards’ despair over past events. You get the impression that perhaps, as The Humanitarian is based, somewhat on real experiences, that these may be thoughts which the author actually experienced himself. As a reader you become absorbed by Richards’ self-pity and self-loathing:

‘How did you approach him, this person, strong or naïve, whatever he was, who, unlike you, did not wake up every morning with a curse in the very taste of the saliva in his mouth, who did not wish God, if he existed at all, might rip the entrails out of your belly, rip your flesh apart in any way he chose, do whatever he wanted so long as it would stop the dreams from coming, stop the memories, just switch off the images that tormented you, with no promise of eternity, just the peace of an endless dark sleep, just the switch going off and a deep slow sigh escaping from your breast into the air.’

Richards’ saving grace – if I can even call it that, as the book is left very much open ended – comes in the form of a kind stranger. In Father Severino, Richards’ finds a kindred spirit of sorts, a person to whom, for some reason, he feels as though he can pour his heart out. In turn Father Severino seems to understand where the roots of Richards’ feelings of despair lie. For Richards, father Severino represents someone outside of everything. Not a part of his team, or the villagers requiring aid. He is a mutual third party, a kind stranger, who is able to listen, and to understand, when Richards’ most needs it:

‘There was an excitement inside me that kept out the dark and anticipated the arrival of Father Severino in his landcruiser. It was not just the trip, but something more, something about the man himself and the thought that we would meet and talk and the sure knowledge that our talk would take us far beyond the desultory exchanges that were all I ever managed with my colleagues or with Simon.’

Overall I found The Humanitarian to be a very thoughtful provoking piece, which offers the reader an insight into the Sudanese conflict, and the repercussions surrounding this, as well as the inner working of the organisations responsible for providing aid to these places. The Humanitarian is an incredibly powerful read, which will leave the reader asking questions, and with a desire to uncover more.

“People who claim that they’re evil are usually no worse than the rest of us… It’s people who claim that they’re good, or any way better than the rest of us, that you have to be wary of.” ― Gregory Maguire

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Don’t be afraid to be bad.

How to be Bad ― Michael La Ronn

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Michael La Ronn made the decision to pursue a writing career in 2012, after recovering from a potentially life threatening illness. The realisation that he had come so close to death inspired him to turn his writing, which he refers to as his ‘true passion’, into a full-time job. La Ronn’s goal as a writer is to entertain; he says that reading should be a journey with the potential to take you to unexpected places. His signature works are Decision Select™ Novels, which are essentially choose your own adventure novels specially written for an adult audience. The first of these, How to Be Bad, was published in early 2014.

In How to be Bad the reader fills the shoes on Bebe McFerrin, a budding young attorney and professional pushover. Bebe has the confidence of a gnat, rendering her susceptible to the manipulation of her co-workers. The reader is introduced to Bebe, on the most important day of her life so far, having her promotion stolen by a co-worker, and what does she do? Nothing, she sit’s and takes it. That is until she meets Ladouche, a demon with a taste for revenge, who promises her total immunity from any evil deed, giving her the opportunity to wipe the smile from her colleague Anette’s face once and for all. As Bebe’s life enters the hands of the reader she finally gets her revenge, binding her to a contract with Ladouche she did not know existed and Bebe is forced to steal the souls of three innocent people.

When I was younger I loved the Goosebumps choose your own adventure books, so I was immediately interested when La Ronn asked me to read his new novel, and I was not disappointed. Overall, I had a great time; it was so much fun experimenting with a book of this type made specifically for adults. The choices were a more complicated than in those books designed for a younger audience, some of it is actually based on your ability as a reader, your general knowledge, and ability to navigate certain situations – I liked this a lot.

Each possible story only takes about an hour to read, and as I’m sure those of you who have read these books before can appreciate they are more of a holiday read than anything else. I think it would be make a good book to read on a long journey, or a lazy afternoon when you have a few hours to kill. I enjoyed reading it a few times to see how the endings changed.

I think the message I took from the story is that it might not be a very good idea to place much faith in the promises of a demon.  But of course the outcome will change depending on the choices a reader makes, so you might find you take something different away. I do think the text says something about people who let themselves get walked over, you shouldn’t be afraid ‘be bad’ every now and then to get what you want. If Bebe could learn to do things for herself every now and then, and be a bit less conscientious things might turn out better for her.

The one issue I have with the book is that there are a few formatting problems. I noticed that some of the outcomes did not quite fit with the choices I made.  I’ve no doubt these are supposed to be different and I have relayed the issues back to the author and he is in the process of working them out.

I like reading things which are a little different and this definitely ticked a few boxes for me. Like I said before it’s not the most thought-provoking piece I’ve ever read, but it’s what you expect a choose your own adventure to be. The book is well written, fast paced, and entertaining, and I think Ladouche is a really great character, even if he is a bit of a douche. I would recommend How to be Bad to those who were fans of choose your own adventure novels as children, or those who, like me, appreciate things which have a little individuality and flair.

Many thanks to Michael La Ronn for proving me with a free review copy of the book.

“People in a small town tend to do a lot of talking, even when they don’t know what they’re talking about. ” — Don Roff

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A hilarious take on village politics at their very worst.

A Tunnel is Only a Hole on its Side – James Minter

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James Minter was born in Oxfordshire, from whence he is said to draw much inspiration for his writing. Prior to writing fiction, Minter spent 35 years in the IT industry working on specialist literature, including training manuals. In 2009 Minter turned his mind to writing fiction, the experience of which he soon fell in love with. Five years on and he has become an award-winning author. His first book, The Hole Opportunity,was published in 2011 and formed the beginning of The Hole Trilogy. The book went on to be the Bronze Winner for Adult Fiction at the Wishing Shelf Book Awards in 2013. Minter’s second book, The Unexpected Consequences of Iron Overload, was published the following year, taking a humorous look at the medical condition Haemochromatosis and written to help raise awareness of the condition, from which Minter himself suffers. The second book in The Hole Trilogy, A Tunnel is Only a Hole on its Side, was published in 2013.

The Hole Trilogy follows the lives of the citizens of the small town of Harpsden. In A Tunnel is Only a Hole on its Side, Minter takes a look at the reaction of the town’s citizens when faced with the idea of change. Harpsden is in dire need of a bypass – the roads are so clogged that the traffic backs up right to the high street, making accessing Waitrose an absolute nightmare. When a letter arrives from the council to announce a proposed new bypass, which threatens to cut through the local golf course, the citizens of Harpsden are driven to distraction. The club’s members, including the captain Major Woods, are horrified by the proposal and take it upon themselves to redesign the route. Major Woods takes the opportunity to reignite a feud he has with ‘hole farmer’ Colin Griggs and proposes a route that will effectively wipe the Griggs’ farm off the map. Meanwhile, kindly Colin opts for an alternate route that will suit everyone – tunnelling under the golf course and constructing the tunnel himself, potentially winning the favour of Major Woods in the process. As with all small town politics, however, nothing is ever that simple.

When I started reading this book, Minter’s writing style immediately appealed to me. The text is very well written, accessible, and humorous. I had to do a little of my own research to begin with as I hadn’t had the opportunity to read the first book in the trilogy. I was a little confused by the concept of ‘hole farming’ and wasn’t familiar with the feud between Colin Griggs and Major Woods, but after a bit of surfing the web I soon set this straight and was able to enjoy the book for what it is, a really funny, light-hearted read.

My initial reaction to Minter’s work was that it reads like an English sitcom, an opinion which I maintained throughout. It really does feel as though you are watching an episode of Keeping up Appearances or One Foot in the Grave. I really liked Minter’s introduction of Colin Griggs (whose character I absolutely love, by the way – but more on that later). Colin is introduced as an aging farmer, whose thoughts are so plagued by the rumour of a new bypass that he is unable to sleep and decides to put pen to paper to help clear his head. The description of Colin, sneaking downstairs in the early hours of the morning, trying so hard to be quiet and ultimately stumbling aimlessly in the dark, is priceless:

‘Making his way downstairs, he remembered the third from the top produced a loud squeak. Stepping over it, he stumbled past the next two treads. In the dark, he’d misjudged the distance. He struggled to maintain his balance ricocheting off the walls like a pinball in an arcade machine.’

Another aspect of Minter’s writing I enjoyed was being able to see the characters thoughts through the use of the third person omniscient. This too, for me, added to the feel of the book being like a sitcom. An example which immediately comes to mind is Colin’s wife’s description of Colin coming in from the cold in the first chapter:

‘Dropping his smile he flopped back into his chair. The fly on his pyjama bottoms gaped. There was nothing to see. It must be cold out there, she thought.’

Minter is said to draw on his own knowledge of rural Oxfordshire as the inspiration for his characters. Hailing from a small town myself, I can definitely relate to Minter’s choice of characters and his description of village politics. Those involved in community interest groups can very often get far too carried away, especially if it is a heavily contested subject. This is evident with the characters in Minter’s book and none more so than Major Woods, who sees himself as being at ‘war’ with several other citizens of Harpsden and takes his role as head of the Golfer’s Against the New Bypass very, very seriously:

‘The Major felt his hackles rise. “Mr Flanagan, you’ve been invited here today as a guest, to report on proceedings only. This is not a public debate. Please keep your thoughts to yourself. If you’d listen and not interrupt, then as Mary said, you will learn. Now please be quiet. Questions will be allowed later.” The colour in his cheeks was reminiscent of a Macaques’ red bum.’

The Major in general is only too reminiscent of someone taking a role far too seriously. No doubt the bypass is an important subject, but the Major appears more than a little unhinged. I hope I don’t make any enemies by saying that from why I understand of small groups like this there is always a character such as the Major, who feels they can take the law into their own hands, Minter just does a rather fantastic and hilarious job of describing such an individual.

One final passage of praise for this book: I thought the characters were fantastic. Minter presents a really good mix of characters, including a fantastically posh and aging Lady of the Manor, a sultry seductress, as well as characters who appeal to a reader’s better nature, and others that are just downright infuriating. Major Woods is firmly rooted in that last category for me; I find the idea of such a man absolutely repugnant, which I think is what makes him such a great character. A friend of mine once told me of an aging army Major who would always sign his name ‘Major’ so and so, if there was a chance the person reading it might think they were better than him. I don’t know if such a man actually exists, but it is of him that I thought when reading about the self important, furious and somewhat ridiculous man that is Major Woods.

‘The persistent drone of the Mercedes horn alerted him to the Major’s arrival. Looking up he was taken aback to see him, eyes staring, mouth trembling, moustache twitching, face reddening, nostril flaring, only a few feet away from him.’

Needless to say, anybody who insists on being called Major outside of a barracks by close friends is not ok by me, but he does make for a rather amusing read.

On the other hand, I struggle to see how anyone could fail to warm to Colin Griggs. The man is so well meaning, while perhaps a little short sighted at times. I really took to Colin, finding his inability to use a computer an endearing and largely accurate description of many older people I know.

I was very pleasantly surprised by the book as a whole. Minter has created something very unique to him – it is different to anything I have read before. The only aspect of the book I struggled with slightly, and which I feel could perhaps use a bit more work, is the transition between settings and chapters. At times the text can read a bit like a script and it can get a little bit much, making it difficult to read too much in one sitting.

Overall, I found A Tunnel is Only a Hole on its Side to be a really light-hearted and entertaining look at village politics and rural living. I think Minter is undoubtedly unique in his writing style and has created something, which, while it may not be for everyone, will have a lot of people singing its praises. I would strongly recommend anyone give it a go, if only to experience something a little different.

Many thanks to James Minter for providing me with a free review copy of the book.

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.” ― Charlotte Brontë

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Which side is the ‘right’ side?

Clara ― Suzanna Linton

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Suzanna Linton was born in South Carolina and grew up in Orangeburg County. After graduating high school, she attended Francis Marion University, where she majored in English. Linton tells of how she began writing as a child, after feeling as though she was brimming over with ideas and needed to ‘share them before they poured out of my eyes and ears’. An initial penchant for experimenting with poetry grew into a love of writing fiction. Linton currently lives in South Carolina with her husband and pet dogs. As well as writing fiction, she works in the local library. Her debut novel, Clara, was published in 2013.

Linton’s book follows the journey of Clara, a seemingly ordinary child to whom life has been anything but kind. Having being sold into slavery, Clara loses the ability to talk, her voice forced deep inside of her by the horrors she suffered at the hands of the slavers. Bought by a wealthy master, Clara falls into a dreary life working in the castle kitchens, never venturing further than the kitchen garden. She is known by no name and those around her see her as nothing more than a mute slave girl who is possibly a little slow. But, unbeknownst to those around her, Clara holds the unique ability to see into the future, a gift she has kept secret for years through fear of persecution. When a vision prompts her to prevent a murder, she finds herself catapulted into the lives of the nobility, and the centre of civil war that threatens to destroy the country. In a journey that takes her from her humble roots to the capital city itself, Clara discovers that the future of the nation depends on her and her alone.

Before I started reading Clara I knew nothing about the story other than the title. I think I expected a Jane Austen-style coming-of-age romance more than anything, so I was surprised by the way the story progressed. I like the way Linton gradually introduced the reader to the supernatural side of the novel, starting with Clara’s visions and gradually bringing in further aspects. The book is written in the style of a medieval fantasy and the world in which Clara lives is similar to that of our own with elements of fantasy thrown in. On the whole, Linton keeps the language of the characters fairly simple, drawing on medieval English and introducing new words occasionally to describe, for example, measures of time. I liked this aspect of the book, which added to feeling of it being a fantasy novel without becoming too confusing. I also enjoyed the setting that Linton created; the descriptions used were vivid, allowing the book to come to life. I particularly liked Linton’s description of the wealthy capital, Candor:

‘Every bit of trade going south to Bertrand went through Candor. Every bit of trade coming up from Bertrand went through Candor. It sat like a giant purse on a rich man’s desk, begging to be stolen.’

At its heart, Clara is indeed a coming-of-age novel, although perhaps not in the classic sense. Through the three hundred pages of the book, the reader forms a relationship with the heroine and follows her through an incredible transformation. From the very beginning, Clara’s life is hard on her; we are first introduced to the girl as a skinny child, sent to work and unable to play with the other children:

‘Clara trudged home, the sack of pots banging and clattering against her thin legs. The wind blew against her back, bringing with it the laughter and music of a festival she couldn’t attend.’

From this point, the reader follows her as she is sold into the slave trade, before becoming the pet ‘mouse’ of the lady of the castle in which she was so recently enslaved. Seldom throughout the novel does Clara seem genuinely happy, although one such moment that particularly spoke to me occurs shortly after Clara has escaped from slavery and is travelling with Emmerich and Gavin:

‘Mud and dust stained her dark red riding dress and her hair fell loose from her braid. A little dirt smudged her cheek. Fatigue slumped her shoulders but a small smile curved her face as the horses bent to eat the hay she sprinkled before them.’

Later in the book she is given many more luxuries and presented with beautiful clothing, ladies in waiting and guards to protect her, but it is never enough to make her happy. In some ways, Clara can appear as an unlikable character: she is angry and untrusting, miserable most of the time, and does not appreciate the things she is given. However, I think this makes her character all the more genuine; it is natural and very human for Clara to behave the way she does. Regardless of the gifts and luxuries Clara is given, she has within her always the desire to break free of the slave’s collar, which remains symbolically strapped round her neck until the end of the book.

As Clara becomes more and more entwined within the politics of the civil war she faces situations that challenge her allegiance, often leading her to wonder which the ‘right’ side is. Clara’s abilities render her invaluable to both armies and, as such, she is vulnerable to manipulation. Both sides hide the truth from her in one way or another, and it is left to Clara to decide for herself who she should put her trust in. Sometimes, doing what is ‘right’ can have unforeseen repercussions.

As Clara’s character develops, so too does her beauty. As a slave, it is easy to forget that Clara was once described as ‘beautiful’ by a friend of her parents; she becomes the dirty, mute slave girl with matted hair. As the mouse, she is described as ‘elfish’, before moving on to ‘pretty for a slave’. It is not until Clara begins to break free of these shackles that it becomes apparent just how beautiful she really is in the eyes of those who love her:

‘She looked up and formed a question with her large eyes and sweet mouth.’

Clara’s confusion towards the love she receives is a central theme throughout the novel. She finds it difficult to know how to feel about any of those who flatter her: can they really be trusted? Her nature makes her guarded towards any advances.

I thought it was inevitable that Clara should fall for one of the men in the book, but was very pleased that, ultimately, there is not a fairy-tale ending. Too often heroines give up on their dreams because they fall in love. Most prominently within Clara is the desire to escape, to be free, and to discover herself, and she makes the choice to put these dreams first, and perhaps to come back to love once she has discovered herself.

As with many of the books I review, I do have a couple of small gripes to add before I round off. Firstly, I feel the text could do with a professional edit as there are quite a few mistakes in the text. However, I do feel this is inevitable with a lot of self-published work, and I don’t feel that the mistakes overly detract from the story. Secondly, I feel that at some point events are perhaps drawn out a bit too far, and what could be described in a few pages takes up substantially more. I personally like to keep things concise. That said, I feel these are fairly minor details.

On the whole, I found Clara to be an enjoyable read. The storyline is entertaining and keeps you wanting to read on at the end of each chapter. I would be interested to see where the story goes next and in finding out the answers to some of the questions left hanging at the end of the book. I feel Clara would best suit a young adult audience, and fans of medieval fantasy.

All due thanks go to Suzanna Linton for providing me with a free review copy of the book.

 

“How talented was death. How many expressions and manipulations of hand, face, body, no two alike.” ― Ray Bradbury,

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St Cuthbert’s Corpse: A Life After Death – David Willem

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David Willem obtained a Bachelor’s degree in literary studies at the University of Portsmouth before beginning a career as a freelance writer and editor. Throughout this time he worked as a correspondent for several magazines and newspapers including the Guardian and the Times.  In 2002 Willem published his first book, Kicking: Following the Fans to the Orient, a fascinating look at relations between the English and the Japanese during the 2002 World Cup. Willem’s second book, St Cuthbert’s Corpse: A life after death was published by Sacristy Press in 2013.

 

The remains of St Cuthbert are said to reside inside Durham Cathedral. As with many saints, St Cuthbert became somewhat more famous after his death, which occurred in the year 687. The tale of St Cuthbert’s journey to its final resting place has much local fame, with several tales having emerged as to why Cuthbert may have ended up in Durham including the well-known ‘Dun Cow’ story. Perhaps most significant, however, are the stories surrounding St Cuthbert’s imperishable corpse. Thirteen hundred years after his death and the miracle of St Cuthbert’s seemingly incorrupt corpse still causes much fascination amongst historians, and theologians alike, it is even said to have inspired the construction of Durham Cathedral. Since St Cuthbert’s death his remains has been excavated on no less than six separate occasions. In St Cuthbert’s Corpse: A life after death David Willem, for the first time, amalgamates the historical accounts of each opening into one concise edition – providing the reader with a captivating glimpse into the life after death of St Cuthbert, from 687 to the present day.

Before reading St Cuthbert’s Corpse I was completely unfamiliar with this part of history, and will confess to having never even heard of St Cuthbert. While I am a massive fan of historical fiction, I don’t tend to read many historical texts, but was taken in by the striking front cover of the book, and its intriguing synopsis on the Sacristy website. I was not to be disappointed when I received the book, which is short enough to be read in a single sitting and offers a meticulously researched and crisp overview of the entire history of St Cuthbert’s corpse.

Willem has divided the book in several chapters, each tracing particular stage in the history of the corpse, with a short title and subtext explaining the era and time elapsed since St Cuthbert’s passing. Each chapter gives the reader not only the story of each excavation, but also a glimpse of each moment in history and an insight into the significance that the remains held to those alive at the time. Through this Willem has created an incredibly accessible piece, which is easily navigable by even the most budding historian.

The most enjoyable and perhaps frustrating part of the book is that there is no ending, and as a reader, you know that there will never be an ending. The question always remains as to the validity of the reports on the incorruptibility of St Cuthbert’s corpse. The accounts that exist of the times when the corpse was excavated follow on perfectly on from one another, but it is impossible to truly know the answer. I wonder perhaps if he will be excavated again one day, or if he has really been laid to rest this time?

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed reading St Cuthbert’s Corpse, and took away knowledge of, what was to me, an entirely new piece of history, as well as a desire to know more. I would recommend the book to anyone interested in theological history, and to those unfamiliar with St Cuthbert’s story.

Many thanks to Sacristy Press for sending me a free review copy of the publication.

“Your worst enemy, he reflected, was your nervous system. At any moment the tension inside you was liable to translate itself into some visible symptom.” ― George Orwell

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Don’t get caught.

Dead and Buryd – Chele Cooke

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Chele Cooke recalls always having books around her while growing up, but she truly realised her love of reading as a teenager, when she discovered the Harry Potter books. Her taste in books is varied, having grown from her initial interest in fantasy – ‘I’ll give anything a try at least once,’ she tells me. Cooke began writing through play-by-post role plays, which she says was akin to ‘learning to walk before I ran’, and being able to submerge herself in another world helped with her own writing. This, coupled with a degree in creative writing, was the catalyst that launched her career as an author. Dead and Buryd, was released in 2013.

Dead and Buryd takes place on an alien planet plagued by harsh seasons; searing hot summers that give way to inhospitable, freezing winters. The planet’s natives, the Veniche have found themselves the effective slaves of their technologically advanced invaders, the Adveni. Any Veniche who steps out of line is liable for incarceration within the walls of the Adveni’s impenetrable prison, Lyndbury.

Cooke introduces the reader to Georgianna Lennox, a local medic, who works alongside the Adveni forces, treating those injured within the walls of the prison as a way of serving her lost people. When Georgianna’s friendship with a group of rebels – the Belsa – risks putting her own freedom at stake, she is faced with a difficult decision – what will she choose to put first, her family or the freedom of her people?

The first two chapters of the book form a sort of prologue to the story, setting the scene and introducing us to characters that come into play later on in the novel. This introduction to the novel works really well, serving to spark questions in the reader’s mind and piquing their curiosity. The history of the planet and the natives is quickly skimmed over in these opening chapters, and is elaborated upon at points throughout the novel. Through this gradual method of unravelling, Cooke lets the history of her world develop in the reader’s imagination, revealing little snippets of the story piece by piece.

The novel’s setting, an unfamiliar planet occupied by inhuman, almost robotic invaders, really appealed to me. Not only was the way in which Cooke portrays the setting particularly masterful – her descriptions allow your mind’s eye to create an almost perfect picture – but the harsh summers and harsher winters made me think of an exaggerated version of our own world. It almost seemed plausible to me that Cooke’s dystopia could be a future version of Earth, a world where the natural environment has been irreversibly damaged to such an extent that people are forced to live in tunnels to escape the searing heat, unable to spend even a short amount of time in the sun, in the heat of the day without fear of burning. Needless to say I was intrigued enough by the book from the onset that I didn’t want to put it down.

There are several central themes running through the novel, the most important of which is love. Love emerges in Cooke’s work in many different ways, but ultimately, there is a love which is central to the Veniche’s existence that the Adveni seem incapable of feeling. The Veniche are described as a very sentimental people – they have a strong allegiance to their kind, their tribes and ultimately their family. Georgianna herself works alongside the Adveni so that she can treat those of her people who are trapped away from the ones they love. Above and beyond this allegiance, is the love the Veniche develop for the one person they choose to ‘join’ themselves with. Being joined is described as something very final, which you can never distance yourself from. The topic is first approached in reference to a relationship between Georgianna’s brother and the man to whom he was joined. Georgianna first learns what it means to love by witnessing the love the two men share:

‘Watching her brother with Nequiel, However, she quickly learned that it wasn’t about finding someone suitable to join with, someone you could live with. It was about joining with the person you couldn’t live without.’

It is as though each Veniche is only one half of a person, and there is another half without which they cannot become whole. This is evident in the way loss is described:

‘Her brother was no longer the same person she had grown up with. He was quieter, more reserved, and less willing to talk about anything important.’

The Adveni, on the other hand, are clinical in the very sense of the word. Cooke creates an army of invaders akin to the Nazi’s Master Race. The allegiance that the Adveni have to their group goes beyond the heartfelt commitment of the Veniche; they have an ingrained herd mentality, going about their lives in favour of the greater good.

‘Unlike the Veniche, who paired most commonly for love, the Adveni were put to numerous tests. If their tletonise – the Adveni way of referring to what the Veniche people knew to be the aspects of a person passed on to their children – did not pass these tests, they were forbidden from creating offspring.’

The Adveni mating ritual is an example of survival of the fittest at its most horrifying – a greater force deliberately manipulating breeding patterns to create an indestructible army. Tactics frighteningly similar to those used by the Nazi’s during World War II. The Adveni do not have that one person who they feel they cannot live without; rather, they are matched up with the person best suited to their genetic makeup. For the Adveni, love exists only for the greater collective good.

A lack of love for one another is just a slight crack in the hard exterior that is the Adveni forces. They are feared and hated by the Veniche. The title of the novel alludes to this; the Veniche used the phrase ‘buryd alive’ to describe those taken captive by the Adveni, alive in almost every sense of the word, but unable to escape: ‘Though your life was over and there was no escape, your body remained alive.’

I love the way Cooke expresses Georgianna’s fear of the prison and the Adveni guards. While she tries to keep on the good side of the guards, she is always terrified of what may happen when the doors of the compound close behind her. Her fear is, understandably, multiplied when she has reason to be afraid:

‘If she showed up acting suspiciously, they’d know for certain that something was going on. The problem was, the harder she tried to think about other things, the more the plan filtered into her mind. As she walked, her only salvation became that the Adveni had no mind-reading technology, at least not that she knew of.’

This passage really stood out to me as a perfect portrayal of the reasoning everyone goes through when trying to behave casually in a risky situation. It’s a feeling so many people will be familiar with, as though your mind is playing tricks on you, feeding you morsels of hope before making you doubt yourself.

I found Georgianna to be, on the whole, an incredibly genuine and relatable character. In Georgianna, Cooke has created a fantastically well-rounded vessel to convey her story. The reader learns about the planet, the people, and the struggle almost exclusively through Georgianna, but they also get to know the heroine on a very personal level. In time it becomes apparent just how normal Georgianna is. Despite her situation, her allegiance with the rebels, the things that she does, and even the fact that she is from another world, there is an aspect of her personality that a lot of people can relate to.

The most obvious demonstration of Georgianna’s real character comes out in her feelings about Keiran. Georgianna has fallen foul to one of those complicated casual relationships, which I’m sure many people are familiar with. The way that she justifies the relationship to herself is so transparent. She begins by suggesting that she is fine with the way things are, but she always comes back to mentioning that she knows Keiran is with other women, and that she’s fine with it [I’m fine! Who else is fine?]. As time goes on, and Keiran’s comings and goings continue to plague Georgianna’s thoughts, it becomes apparent that she is not so cool with it after all:

‘Weird was hardly the word she’d give to it. She’d maybe been a little more emotional, but seeing as Keiran has his wonderful reputation with women, surely this wasn’t the first time a girl had realised she wasn’t happy keeping their relationship at just sex.’

When Georgianna realises she might want more from the relationship, she cannot keep the sarcasm out of her thoughts – Keiran has a wonderful reputation with women. However, she still attempts to appear reserved, as though she does not want to show her true self for fear of being hurt:

‘Finally looking up at him, she shrugged a little. Clasping her hands tightly in her lap, trying to stop herself from fidgeting, she found herself drumming her fingers nervously against the backs of her hands.’

Georgianna really is just so likeable and funny, despite her hard exterior. Forming a relationship with the heroine of the story like this really added to my enjoyment of the novel.

Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed reading Cooke’s work. The story has some fantastic plot twists and enough unanswered questions to have me eagerly anticipating the next in the series. Cooke’s writing style is smooth and fluid, maintaining a unity throughout the flow of the story. I am not an enormous Sci-Fi reader, and I can be easily put off by the random and incessant introduction of unnecessarily complicated devices, but I found Cooke to be very accessible. While new terminology is introduced to the reader, it is done so easily, and with explanation, so as to avoid over complication. Dead and Buryd gets a resounding ‘would recommend’ from me.

I am thankful to Chele Cooke for providing me with a free review copy of her work, and introducing me to the Out of Orbit series.