strange and random happenstance

By the end of Game of Thrones I was suffering from whatever the equivalent of superhero fatigue is in Westeros. I watched eight seasons of a show that, looking back on, I only enjoyed the first season of. So I hope I can be forgiven if I forget that most of the cast of that show can act. Because by the end, I think they were just phoning it is as they dragged themselves to the lackluster finale. Have you seen the pictures from the final table read? They weren't any happier than their audience was at the end. So Joan was a revelation because while I was turning in for the eighties glamour I was pleasantly surprised to be reminded what a good actor Sophie Turner is. In fact I think I might have only seen her in The Thirteenth Tale prior to this and I have to say, after the first few minutes of thinking of Joan as Sansa Stark I believed she was Joan Hannington. The hair, the clothes, the look, but most importantly that accent and the way she carried herself, she became Joan for me. She was a scheming and conniving woman who not only wanted it all, wanted it all with sparkles. She loved gems, she loved the con, she knew what she wanted and went for it. Of course this series focused more on how all of this was to facilitate the return of her daughter whom she had placed into care when she was at her lowest. It's all about Kelly. But the problem I had with this supposed love of her daughter is that she didn't know her daughter at all. She treated her daughter like a possession, like a diamond that she must have. When Kelly's foster mom invites Joan to a birthday party for Kelly, Joan brings her this elaborate jewelry box. You can she that Kelly isn't interested in it at all. Because this is the present that Joan would have wanted as a kid, not what Kelly would want. And this angers Joan. The foster mother got Kelly a present she actually wanted and Joan repays this kind woman by plotting to kidnap Kelly. Of course this doesn't go to plan and her lover ends up dead and she ends up in prison. Which is all well and good except that this didn't happen. This is billed as the life of Joan Hannington and while in an interview the real life Joan is still alive and well and highly approving of this adaptation saying that it felt like her life, it wasn't really her life. She never got "Kelly" back and, maybe I'm projecting here, but I felt like that aspect, which is central to the show, was more important to Sophie Turner due to what was going on with the disillusion of her marriage. The actors' not the subjects' life informing the art. And that isn't even the craziest thing they changed. While yes, Joan did make her fortune swallowing diamonds, the love of her life, Boise, he didn't die dramtically in a job gone wrong. He died in a fire he set himself for the insurance money years later. So while I enjoyed this show and this look into the seedy underbelly of eighties London and the glamour these people strived for, I felt the series as a whole was disingenuous. And I can suspend disbelief but I'm not going to be a stooge.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: And the Emmy Goes To, Boise Hannington, Daughter, Diamonds, Divorce, Eighties, Foster System, Frank Dillane, Furs, Game of Thrones, Jewel Thief, Joan Harrington, Prison, Sansa Stark, Sophie Turner, The Thirteenth Tale, Westeros

Bellman and Black by Diane Setterfield
Published by: Atria/Emily Bestler Books
Publication Date: November 5th, 2013
Format: Hardcover, 336 Pages
Rating: ★
To Buy

William Bellman's life was perfect for a time. He excelled at the family business, a thriving mill which he helped make more prosperous. When his uncle died suddenly his cousin decided that William should take over and he pushed the mill's productivity even further. This allowed him to marry for love and have as many children as they could. His life was at it's apex. Things started to go wrong. Those he loved started to die. At each and every funeral he sees a man who knowingly looks at him and yet William can not for the life of him place this familiar face. After his wife and all his children but one die he meets the man, a Mr. Black, in the cemetery standing over his family's freshly dug graves. William is pleading for the life of his poor daughter, dear Dora, and though he can't remember what happened that feverish night, he knows that he and Mr. Black struck some sort of deal. That deal, however nebulous, starts William Bellman on a new business venture. He is to create an emporium in London catering to the bereaved. Bellman and Black will have the finest in all funerary needs. William doesn't sleep, he doesn't eat, he lives and breathes this new company. He finds the backers, he finds the location, he finds the architect, he finds the blackest of black fabrics, the subtlest of stationary, the discreetest of employees, he finds everything but his associate Mr. Black. Mr. Black is nowhere to be found. This starts to gnaw on William. Is their bargain complete? Will his partner ever come for the funds he is so diligently putting aside? As William lay dying he looks on the face of Mr. Black and a memory comes back to him. William is ten and out with three of his friends. He boasts he can kill a rook with his slingshot. No one there thought he could do it, and yet the dead rook spoke to his success. A success that he forgot but the rooks remembered.

I don't know why I gave Diane Setterfield a second chance. The Thirteenth Tale was predictable and what plot it had was simplistic. The reveal was so laughably telegraphed that I can't believe that anyone fell for it. And then I read the cunningly calibrated wording to promote her second novel "a heart-thumpingly perfect ghost story, beautifully and irresistibly written, its ratcheting tension exquisitely calibrated line by line" and I was sold. I have to remind myself that the marketing department is not the author and also, where was the ghost!?! There was no ghost! Wait, was it the ghost of a plot? No, it couldn't be that because instead of going from a simplistic plot with her first book to a more complex one with her second she went in the exact opposite direction and wrote a book with no plot. No ghost of a plot, simply NO PLOT. Also where was that ratcheting tension? Was it hidden in the hundred pages about how a mill works? Or was it happening offstage in the next hundred pages when Bellman was building his Selfridges of death? Somewhere amongst the building plans and finding the blackest black? And another thing, this book does a disservice to stories about department stores! The Paradise, Mr. Selfridge, even Are You Being Served? have proven again and again that department stores are rife for storytellers. But I don't think Diane Setterfield is a storyteller, I think she has to admit at this point that her writing just puts people to sleep and should therefore start a practice helping insomniacs and leave us poor unwitting readers who jump at the Gothic alone. This book literally took me two weeks to read because every night it would lull me to sleep with it's lack of plot and too much time on wool!

You would think with all these hundreds of pages devoid of plot that she could really nail down her details, and to an untrained eye she might... but I have a sneaking suspicion that she is writing out of her ass. She writes in loving detail about warp and weft, how to get blacks the blackest they can be, and who am I to know if this is right? I'm not an expert on milling and dyeing in the 19th century but I do know to make black blacker you add blue not more black! What I am an expect on is anything to do with art, therefore I know my paper stocks. At one point Bellman is talking about some exquisite paper he is getting in that will be perfect for mourning stationary and it's 1/2" thick. Excuse me!?! Firstly paper is done in pounds and if you are taking a caliper to measure it, they are small increments indeed. And yes, I know paper is different stateside to the UK, but I learned both systems at school and I think the UK system is SO much more logical. Therefore I can definitively say that if Bellman stocked paper that was 1/2" think it wouldn't be paper it would be a block of wood. It would be freakin' 1/2" thick, a THIRD of the thickness of a 2x4. I feel especial pain that as this book was supposedly edited by someone in the book world, a world of paper for printing and publishing that no one scratched there head and went "hang on a minute something seems wrong here" but alas such is the case. Therefore the integrity of the author has been impinged. I know she got this 100% wrong, so how can I trust any of the details she gives? Nothing can be taken at face value and therefore she has completely devalued her own work with shitty research.

Though her shitty specificity doesn't carry throughout the book. It's very nebulous as to when the events take place. The section in the mill indicates that it's just at the cusp of the industrial revolution so the first half of the 19th century, but then the prevalence of Victorian funerary practices would mean that it would have to coincide with Prince Albert's death in 1861, and yet by the end of the book cremation is all the vogue which didn't happen until the turn of the 20th century, and as Bellman was in his fifties when he died how the fuck does time work in this book!?! Maybe if you say his mill was backwards, despite the author trying to show otherwise, we could say that Bellman was born around 1850 and everything can kind of fall into place, but just... Yet it drives me batty that she can spend hundreds of pages on fabric and I had to go online to see that the first cremation was in 1885 and in 1902 the cremation act was passed. Though I still can't be sure that this is what she was referring too as the inevitable downfall of the Selfridges of death! What could have been interesting to explore in a book was the radically changing funerary practices over the course of this one century, with cremation taking the place of grand pomp and circumstance due not only to cost but to consideration as the cities for the dead impinged on the cities of the living. If the history aspect had been explored, going into Queen Victoria and her staying in mourning until her death, interestingly enough until the year before the cremation act, I could have so read the heck out of those details! Instead we are left with imbalance. A book with no plot going into excruciating and erroneous details about non-essentials and vaguebooking anything of historical significance that could have given the book depth.

But then in the end Setterfield decides to revel in the vague. A draw your own conclusions approach that made me draw the conclusion that she can't write. Here's the thing, putting an ampersand between two things DOESN'T link them. You actually have to establish a connection, you need to set this up, you need to link the very human world of Bellman with the probably avian world of Black. You can't have a connection so tenuous that at times the protagonist actually wonders if there was ever an agreement between them. And just randomly having short sections about corvids with pointless facts isn't integrating them into the story, it's breaking up the monotony with information that has no bearing on the rest of the book. And here is the crux of this problem, without a definitive link between Bellman and Black, without some explanation as to who Black is there is no "other" element to this book. The Gothic goes out the window and the supernatural has sped away. When your hints are so vague you can't draw ANY conclusions perhaps it's time to realize you have failed at whatever it was you were trying to do. Because the truth is I have NO idea what Setterfield was trying to do here. Is Black death in a Meet Joe Black kind of way? Is Black the human form of a rook? Is Black both? Gaw! So annoying! I mean, is he even there at all or just a hallucination that Bellman has, a kind of Grim that haunts Bellman? Because if it is just a presentiment of death that's been stalking Bellman since he was a child, well, that's just lame, because if you think about it death stalks us all. So that's the point of the book is it? You live a life and then you die? Wow, that's some original thinking there...

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Are You Being Served, Bellman and Black, Diane Setterfield, Funerary Practices, Going Gothic, Gothic, Graphic Designer, Meet Joe Black, Mr. Selfridge, Queen Victoria, Rooks, The Paradise, The Thirteenth Tale

The Uninvited by Cat Winters
Published by: William Morrow
Publication Date: August 11th, 2015
Format: Kindle, 368 Pages
Rating: ★★
To Buy

Ivy Rowan has been abed with the flu for days. The last night she is to spend at home she awakes to see the ghost of her grandmother. She instantly knows something is wrong. She has only ever seen these uninvited guests, these ghosts, as harbingers of death; someone close to her will die. Her grandmother came to warn Ivy, her father and brother have killed a man. They have murdered the owner of the furniture store, who was a German immigrant. Ivy's brother Billy died the week previously in the Great War and there are rumors that the Germans are responsible for this plague that has descended on Ivy's small Midwestern town. Her brother and father committed this horrible act of vengeance on an innocent man. Though the papers will ascribed the death to patriotic vagrants, Ivy knows the truth. Ivy's mind and body rebels, she packs her belongings and flees into the night. Out in the world, Ivy, the virtual recluse, starts to live life and form friendships amongst all the death. She helps two red cross nurses ferry the ill, she lodges with the widow of a former classmate, but most importantly she tries to make amends to the grieving brother of the man her family killed, Daniel Schendel. She is drawn to Daniel as much as she is drawn to the jazz music playing every night across the road from his store. As their relationship grows more intense Ivy starts to realize that not everything is at it seems. There are secrets too horrific to face so one should just face the music and dance.

One of my friends said that I should have been forewarned that I wouldn't like this book because the blurb declaimed that it was "perfect for those who loved The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield." To say I loved The Thirteenth Tale would be grossly untrue, even saying I liked it would be a lie... so I should have had an inkling that The Uninvited wasn't for me. But it was the deal of the day on Kindle and that cover... well, that cover has more atmosphere than the whole book and I seriously need to stop being tricked by a pretty cover. The main problem I had was that I was looking for a good Gothic read and while this does have all the elements of Gothic literature it has all these elements without them ever coming together into a cohesive whole and being Gothic. Ghosts, check, virginal heroine, check, olden days, check, laws flouted, check, add to that a horrid plague and well, I am just baffled. I think the reason it failed is twofold. The ghosts aren't scary, they're just a part of the virginal heroine's life during the Great War. On top of that while a world destroying plague is terrifying and does have the Gothic element in spades, the problem is us modern readers aren't scared of this plague. We know what the cause is. You have to take this truth and spin it or distort it in order to keep the horror relevant to modern readers.

But everything about this book was like Gothic Literature turned upside down. You think it will work and it doesn't. I had this feeling from the first pages as Ivy raised herself from her sickbed that this felt like the conclusion of a story. That we missed Ivy's story, we missed her imprisonment and illness, we missed her journey and here we are at the end and she gets her happily ever after. She is no longer in seclusion but enjoying life and getting a chance at love. Oddly enough it turns out I was somewhat astute in this observation. Because the irony is, and this is a big spoiler folks, Ivy is dead. So this whole story happens after her death. Therefore her journey has happened, her day is done, what we read here is some imagined ghostly happily ever after that Christopher Reeve was so desperately searching and then dying for in Somewhere in Time. It's most likely Winters did this setup on purpose, but that doesn't satisfy me. It makes me feel like I was manipulated from page one. I went in expecting a certain kind of book and I basically got The Others, the disappointing Nicole Kidman movie. So if you're looking for a slightly otherworldly World War I book set in the Midwest that will give your tear ducts a workout, go for it.

Your tear ducts won't be the only thing getting a workout, because this book is determined to pull out your heartstrings and beat you to death with them. One of the reasons I like Gothic literature is that it preys on other emotions, fear being the primary one. I don't like chick flicks, I don't long for a good cry, I'm not pining for something new from Nicholas Sparks. I don't want my emotions manipulated. If in the telling of a good story my emotions suffer, well, that's fine, it's the sign of good storytelling. On the other hand, if a story is written just to play merry havoc on my emotions, well, it starts to piss me off. The repeated reveals of just how many of Ivy's friends are actually ghosts besides herself was unnecessarily cruel. Yes, Winters wanted to show that these people were more than just statistics, that each and every life claimed by the Spanish Flu was a life someone missed, a life that mattered, but there's a point when you just can't take anymore. This drain on my emotions was too much to handle. The first time Ivy returns home to talk to her mother, what with everything that's been going on in my own life at the moment I just couldn't deal with it. I wanted this book to be banished from my sight. I wanted it to stop hurting me. At one point I thought, I'll hurt it by giving it one star! But then I thought, no. While this book isn't for me, while it's not what I expected, Winters is still too competent a writer to punish, like she did to me.

What with everyone being dead you can't help to start drawing conclusions to the aforementioned The Others, or to The Sixth Sense, or more importantly to the television show Life on Mars and it's sequel Ashes to Ashes. In particular the television shows spent seasons building your rapport with these characters only to have the finale of Ashes to Ashes reveal that they are in a way station after their deaths awaiting the next phase of their journey, through a pub, The Railway Arms, which leads to heaven. Now let's look at The Uninvited Guests, ghosts, stuck continuing their lives until they go to the Jazz Club and ascend... so basically exactly what happens in Ashes to Ashes without the time slip... this similarity, even if the author has never seen or heard of these shows made me feel like there was nothing truly original in this book. It felt like it was never trying to be it's own thing, just a combination of other things that worked more successfully. With Ashes to Ashes when the reveal was made with the character of Shazzer I lost my shit. This wasn't a narrative that had ever made me cry, but I was so connected to the characters that this undid me. Whereas, as I've mentioned previously, here Winters just repeatedly pulls the rug out from under you. It's not a real connection, it's not real emotion, she never works to get you to feel, it's a false feeling. Whereas Shazzer's death will always stay with me, I don't think this book will stay with me after a few more weeks.

Though there is one thing that might stick. The jazz of it all. Once you realize the characters are dead and it's basically a siren song it makes a little more sense how much the music is driving Ivy. The thing is, while I love certain artists, play piano and even saxophone at one time, I'm not one of those people with music in my veins. If you cut me I will likely bleed ink from being such a word person. Therefore I have a hard time connecting to people like Ivy who hear music and just can't stop their toes tapping. Who can't stop the call of the music as it pumps through their veins. If music is pumping through my veins I'm usually the person wondering if we can turn the music down a bit cause it's loud. Also if there's one kind of music I detest it's jazz. Seriously. Can. Not. Stand. It. Therefore this jazz that runs through the book was annoying but also was antithesis to trying to get any Gothic vibe going. So it alienated me as it blithely made the book more and more the opposite of what I was hoping for. Can we also talk about how depressing it is that these ghosts are drawn to jazz? While it was popular at this time it wasn't until the roaring twenties when this genre took hold, a decade none of these characters are going to live to see. The music and the characters are full of false life. Their story is done, thankfully for me, and it was a bleak one.

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Ashes to Ashes, Cat Winters, Diane Setterfield, Ghosts, Going Gothic, Gothic, Jazz, Life on Mars, Somewhere in Time, Spanish Flu, The Others, The Sixth Sense, The Thirteenth Tale, The Uninvited, WWI

While Beauty Slept by Elizabeth Blackwell
Published by: Amy Einhorn Books/Putnam
Publication Date: February 18th, 2014
Format: Hardcover, 432 Pages
To Buy

The official patter:
"Historical fiction at its best — The Brothers Grimm meets The Thirteenth Tale .

I am not the sort of person about whom stories are told.

And so begins Elise Dalriss’s story. When she hears her great-granddaughter recount a minstrel’s tale about a beautiful princess asleep in a tower, it pushes open a door to the past, a door Elise has long kept locked. For Elise was the companion to the real princess who slumbered—and she is the only one left who knows what actually happened so many years ago. Her story unveils a labyrinth where secrets connect to an inconceivable evil. As only Elise understands all too well, the truth is no fairy tale."

Oh, just what February needed, some Gothicy goodness!

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 0 comments  

Labels: Elizabeth Blackwell, Gothic, The Brothers Grimm, The Thirteenth Tale, While Beauty Slept

The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield
Published by: Atria
Publication Date: September 1st, 2006
Format: Hardover, 406 Pages
Rating: ★1/2★
To Buy (different edition than one reviewed)
Margaret Lea lives a half life. Working with her father in their antiquarian bookstore she knows that at birth she was a twin. Yet the twin didn't survive. She has always felt that the day she was born was also the day she died. Always looking in mirrors and reflections wondering if that is her sister on the other side. Out of nowhere the author Vida Winter contacts her. She read a little article Margaret had wrote and thought that perhaps Margaret would be her biographer. This would be quite the opportunity to be the biographer to the woman who in every interview she has ever done has told a different biography. Nineteen in the past two years alone. But Margaret can't help being intrigued by opportunity to be the biographer to the most popular author of the age and perhaps find out what happened to the elusive Thirteenth Tale... the missing story from her first book. Margaret agrees to the dying woman's wishes and takes up residence in her Yorkshire home, provided that she tell her three truths that can be verified. The three truths are her real name, where she is from and an event that could be verified. She is really Emmeline Angelfield, from Angelfield and the house burned to the ground. Yet these truths aren't why Margaret stays, it's the fact Vida's story is about twins.

Soon Margaret is obsessed with the world of the Angelfields. The possibly incestuous and definitely masochistic brother and sister, Charlie and Isabelle. Isabelle being the mother of the twins, Adeline and Emmeline, Charlie perhaps being the father. We see the feral children raised in squaller as the Angelfield estate falls apart under the overwork hands of the Missus and John, the Gardener. There are attempts to bring them out of their twinness, speaking only in their twin language. There is Doctor and Governess involvement, but they do more bad then good when they separate the twins, making them amputees missing that which gave them life. When Margaret is not transcribing the story laboriously with pen and paper she is not eating well and having nightmares, her life consumed by the Angelfields. She even ventures to the estate and tries to ferret out their secrets. But how can you be sure you know everything when someone who has always lied, always been the storyteller, claims to be telling the truth. Might they still omit something so there is still a secret only they know?

I will warn you now, I don't usually do spoilers in my reviews. This review will contain spoilers. I need to vent and address my issues, and to that effect, a certain rather big twist (to some) will be discussed at length. For years now people have been telling me to pick up The Thirteenth Tale. The story does center on bookish people, an English country house and perhaps a ghost or two. Add to that the heavy handed name dropping of some of my favorite books from Jane Eyre to The Woman in White to The Turn of the Screw and you'd think me and this book where a perfect fit. We weren't. We not only don't fit together, I think we're from two entirely different puzzles. The titular name dropping was used by the author to force us into this mindset that her book was similar to these other wonderful Gothic Tales. Saying it, repeatedly, doesn't make it so. Just because you have plot devices that mimic events that happen in these classics doesn't mean you should keep hammering the point home. Your book will never be as good as these standards, so stop comparing them, you will always, I repeat, always, come out the loser. You need to make your own book, references are fine, just don't be so blatant.

The book hinges on the story of Miss Winter's life. Miss Winter who is shamelessly an amalgam of Daphne Du Maurier and Agatha Christie, including all the creepy bits of Daphne Du Maurier's past that it's best not to dwell on. Miss Winter is an inveterate liar. She can never tell the truth, so when she does tell the truth there is a key fact omitted. A fact that is obvious to anyone familiar with this genre. The story about the girls, if you pay close attention shows a story of not just the mentioned twins, but a story of three girls. Yes, that is the big "secret." Three not two. The ghost is just another little girl, who happens to be a cousin or perhaps half sibling to the twins and could pass for either one of them and is probably born of rape. I should probably mention I am now going on to spoil other books for you too, The Woman in White being the first up. The "Woman in White" being the illegitimate daughter of the heroine's father, and therefore her half sibling, mimics the girls relationship to each other in The Thirteenth Tale. The evilness of the twins is seen as similar to The Turn of the Screw, while the godsend governess is Jane Eyre, oh, and of course, the house is then destroyed by fire. Here's an idea Diane Setterfield, try to write something original. Don't jumble all these other books together, reference them and then make the reader wish they where reading them instead of your choppy writing style with made up words like "twinness." Don't care if it's in the Urban Dictionary, it's not in the real one and sounds stupid.

The twinness more than anything is what got on my nerves. The changes of "We" to "I." Which I could easily see without the writer going, hey, did you see that. In fact Setterfield seemed so insecure in her own powers of weaving red herrings and hints throughout the book the she went out of the way to say "Hey, you caught that right?" and if you didn't, "Women in White, cough cough." Well, yes, I did, I'm not an idiot, by the way, I just started your book and there's three girls not two, this better not be what the next 300 pages is building up to. Of course it was. Also if I have to hear one more thing about the mystical bonds of twins I may vomit. Margaret always felt alone because she had a twin that her parents never told her about. Boo hoo, confront your parents and move on with you life. The only character I think I could spend any time with was the cat Shadow... too bad he has to live with Margaret. Also, why do you always drink hot cocoa? Don't appear to own a computer and then have a weird angel/ghost hallucination at the end? Why Margaret? WHY!?!

Posted by Miss Eliza at 12:00 AM 2 comments  

Labels: Agatha Christie, Angelfield, Daphne Du Maurier, Diane Setterfield, Gothic, Jane Eyre, The Thirteenth Tale, The Turn of the Screw, The Woman in White, Vida Winter