In Which We Discuss All These Reposts

You may or may not have noticed that the last twenty posts or so are straightforward reviews, which, to be frank, aren't quite up to my normal standards. The reason for that is simple - I wrote them all between the ages of seventeen and twenty, for another site, and I just moved them here.

Since then, my style has changed. I tend towards essays or discussions sparked off from novels, rather than straightforward reviews. Much more fun to write, really.

Here's me at nineteen pretending to be Lara Croft.

Hi me!

In Which We Discuss Three Hearts and Three Lions

Three Hearts and Three Lions is an interesting novel. Written in 1953, it follows the story of Holger Carlson, a Scandinavian. Escaping from Nazi's, he becomes unconscious. On waking, he has no idea where he is. Nearby, however, is a suit of armour that fits his unusually large frame perfectly, and a horse that seems to recognise him.

Holger finds himself wearing the banner and carrying the shield of the knight of three hearts and three lions, a warrior whom everyone in this strange world seems to have a grudge against. Holger soon gains allies suitable to the odd situations he finds himself in; a dwarf and a maiden who can turn herself into a swan at will. They journey onwards, and Holger finds himself in the middle of a war in which he appears to play an important part, although no-one can tell him how or why.

I love this book. It's not aged at all, perhaps because it's fantasy. Parts of it are absolutely hilarious, but the plot itself remains serious. It does use the 'off-the-peg' fantasy figure of Morgan le Fay (King Arthur's sister who shows up as the villain in every single fantasy story about knights every written), and many other characters are recognisable to any fantasy aficionado. However, the plot, and Holger's modern thinking and ideas about the fantasy world are interesting. Many of the characters speak in a colloquial Scottish accent, which frankly can be a tad irritating at times. Still, the main flaw with the book is the length; it's far too short. On reaching the end of the book, I was sorely tempted to merely begin it again, so unwilling was I for it to end. The book doesn't seem suitably finished with the ambiguous ending it is given, and more than anything, I wish a sequel were available (unfortunately, the author died in 2001).

In summary, it's a great book; funny, well written, intelligent, and absorbing. It just ends too soon.

In Which We Discuss The Tenth Circle

Warning; This Post Contains Spoilers for The Tenth Circle.

Daniel Stone is a perfectly nice, normal, suburban man. His wife is a college professor, so, as a comic book artist, he works from home and takes care of their daughter, Trixie, who is fourteen years old, and madly in love with her first boyfriend, Jason.

Or so her parents believe. Like most teenagers, Trixie needs her space, and her privacy, and to this end, has begun giving her parents information on a need-to-know basis. What they don't need to know is that she and Jason broke up. And Trixie will do anything to get him back.

So, she attends a party at her friend Zephyr's house, with the sole intention of flirting with everyone possible in order to make Jason jealous. This is one of those teenage parties where the soul objective is to 'hook up' with anyone or everyone. It's the kind of party where games like Rainbow are played. In Rainbow, each girl wears a different coloured lipstick, and gives oral sex to random guys. To put it crudely, the boy with the most decorated cock at the end of the evening wins.

Trixie isn't entirely comfortable with this, and drinks a little more than she intended to. By the end of the evening, she, Zephyr, Moss – Jason's friend, and Zephyr's love interest – and Jason end up playing strip poker. After a few awkward scenes, Zephyr and Moss end up upstairs, and Trixie is crying in Jason's arms in the living room. And that's when it happens. That's when he rapes her.

The news that Jason Underhill has been charged with rape sweeps through the small town. Jason is the golden boy, the star hockey player, the one with the bright and shining future, and a hockey scholarship just waiting for him.

Daniel Stone, Trixie's father, is furious. For years, since he met Trixie's mother, Laura, he's been trying to control his temper, and hide his past. Trixie has no idea that the gentle father she knows was once a dangerous rebel, that her mother was attracted to him solely because of the danger. Daniel's fear of becoming someone he doesn't want to be, of his daughter not recognising that person, comes through in his artwork, some of which is shown at the start of every chapter.

Daniel is currently working on a comic book called The Tenth Circle, loosely based on Dante's Inferno, which his wife has always been interested in. Dante's Inferno describes the nine levels of Hell, and similarly, Daniel's comic shows his main character, Duncan, traversing those nine circles of Hell in order to rescue his daughter ('Tracey'). When afraid or in danger, Duncan will turn into some kind of animal, in order to escape or defend himself. He has no control over this, and he knows that each time it happens he becomes a little less human. His one fear, like Daniel's, is that he will become someone his daughter will no longer recognise.

The theme of what Dante considers to be a sin is also something that is focused on in the plot. The first circle of hell, according to Dante, is reserved for those who did not believe in or worship their god. The second circle is reserved for adulterers and those who were overcome by lust, the third is for gluttons, the fourth is for the avaricious and the miserly who hoarded possessions, and the prodigal, who squandered them. The fifth circle is reserved for the wrathful, and sullen or slothful. In Picoult's interpretation, then, the first five circles are for those whose own desires were foremost to them, who only harmed or betrayed others as a side effect, not as their main intention. The sixth circle is for the heretics, while the seventh is for the violent, those who committed suicide, the profligate, and those who were violent against god, nature or art. Those two are for people who harmed other people or themselves intentionally through indulging their own desires. The eighth circle is for those who deliberately and knowingly committed evil; corrupt politicians and church officials, false prophets, seducers, thieves, and various falsifiers. The ninth circle is reserved for those who committed the worst crimes – the traitors. Cain, Antenor, Ptolemy, Judas, and Lucifer himself, the ultimate traitor.

Daniel somewhat agrees with Dante's classification of sins, with giving in to your own desires but intending harm as the least, and betraying a loved one the worst. But it's what he, and his character, find in the tenth circle of hell, something Dante never wrote about, which serves as the culmination of this theme. Laura considers this, too. Who worse to betray than a loved one?

Laura Stone, is wracked with guilt over what happened to Trixie. She has been conducting an extra-marital affair, which is why she wasn't at home or answering her phone that night. She was breaking it off, but that doesn't make her feel any better for being with him when she should have been with her daughter, especially when she discovers that Daniel knew, or rather suspected, before she told him, anyway.

Trixie Stone has taken to inflicting physical pain on herself in order to forget her mental and emotional pain. She's also become more interested in Daniel's past. He grew up in Alaska, in an Inuit village. Picoult takes this opportunity to examine the culture of the Eskimo people, in much the same way as she did the Amish in Plain Truth, although not to such an extent.

The book is written completely in third person. Picoult uses a similar style to Terry Pratchett to zoom-in on a certain characters thoughts, which leads to something interesting. Jason is convinced that Trixie is just trying to take revenge on him. Because he didn't rape her. They had sex, but he honestly believes that it was, in no way, rape. But Trixie believes that it was. And these characters can't talk to each other for all sorts of medical and legal reasons. They each assume that the other is lying, although the reader can see that the truth is far more complicated than that.

Still, as the trial gets closer, things start to heat up. Trixie is victimized by her classmates, who either believes that she's making it up, or assume that being raped makes her a 'whore'. One girl tells her "I wish Jason Underhill would rape me".

Things aren't going so easy for Jason, either. Although most of the class on his side, he's confined to his home for legal reasons. Trixie's father is after him. And he loses his hockey scholarship. Jason becomes more and more depressed, which leads to a somewhat surprising turn of events.

The Tenth Circle is both gripping and absorbing. I read it in one night, unable to put it down. Since it's in third person, it's impossible to get as close to the characters as in, for instance, My Sister's Keeper, which was told entirely in the first person. Still, the characters are far more dramatic, and the inclusion of the Inuit culture makes it a lot more interesting. The comic book, which is shown between chapters, a device used similarly in Sheri S. Tepper's Gate To Woman's Country (although that was a play, not a comic book), is pretty good quality, although fairly short for a comic book. As an extra, letters are hidden within the pages of the artwork, revealing a quote, which Picoult feels, sums up the novel.

In Which We Discuss The Space Merchants

In a world taken over by advertising, where a vote has more weight depending on the wealth of the person who cast it, nations only exist in order for trade to take place, and the Earth is almost used up, what's an adman to do?

Mitch Courtenay works for Fowler-Schocken associates, one of the more powerful PR companies in the futuristic world he inhabits. At one point, Mitch describes exactly how powerful they are to Jack O'Shea, an astronaut who insists that he doesn't fall for it.

All of Jack's clothes and luggage are Starr brand, the brand sold by Fowler-Schocken. Jack threatens to go straight home and throw his luggage away, replacing it with that of their rivals. Mitch doesn't doubt this, but he explains that the power of their advertisements means that Starr are viewed as the best. Although Jack may put up with his second rate luggage for a while, he'll start to notice problems, and one day, with an odd sort of amnesia relating to this conversation, he'll replace it all with Starr brand; the brand that's seen as more successful, more virile, and just better, all due to Fowler-Schocken. Jack doesn't disagree.

Later on, another example of this is shown. The Earth is slowly running out of it's natural resources, and things like real roast beef and coffee are expensive and difficult-to-obtain delights. Instead there is Coffiest, a cheap replacement which contains a small amount of an addictive drug. Completely legal, this will result in an addiction to the product in anyone who drinks it for any length of time. Another element of this is association. When someone drinks Popsie (something equivalent to a soft drink, apparently), they will crave Starr cigarettes. The cigarettes will spark a craving for a kind of confectionery. And the sweets will lead you right back to Popsie.

Because of all this, Fowler-Schocken are so powerful that they've been given what is possibly an advertisers ultimate coup - the rights to attract colonists to Venus.

Venus is, at first, an incredibly inhospitable planet. The first colonists will have to live in severe discomfort for generations, while the planet is terraformed, and Mitch's job is to make this concept seem attractive.

This job isn't easy, though. Although Mitch uses all the tools available to him - rumours, posters, subliminal adverts, rhymes, gossip, and more traditional techniques - he has other things to worry about. Like his companies rivals, who've been known to kill men for less. Like the Consies.

Consies are conservationists, and, in this world, they are akin to terrorists. Most people can't even comprehend the ideals that Consies believe in. After all, who cares if the topsoil of the Earth is destroyed? It can be replaced. Who cares if roast beef is now expensive? Chicken Little is cheap. Even the people who study the consies in order to avoid attacks and demonstrations don't understand them.

Speaking of Chicken Little, it's a cheap and ingenious replacement for other kinds of meat (along with soya substitutes). Chicken Little is a mass of living tissue around a heart. Keeping it fed with all the nutrients it needs and slicing off the meat which is ready is a dangerous job (although still safer than working in todays meat packing plants), and recruitment for it is akin to press-ganging with a touch of debtors hell to keep them there.

The book is told entirely in first person, and so a major focus of the book is Mitch's complicated and changing relationship with his wife and his boss, the owner of Fowler-Schocken, who could be said to think of Mitch as equivalent to a son.

The book is written by joint others, Frederik Pohl and Cyril M. Kornbluth. This is relatively uncommon, for two authors to work together, although for Pohl and Kornbluth, it seems they worked together extremely well. They did so often, anyway. Unlike the Neil Gaimen/Terry Pratchett joint work, Good Omens, where, in the first few chapters at least, there was a clear difference between the two writing styles, Pohl and Kornbluth manage to create an invisible seam. Unfortunately, due to Kornbluth's tragically early death at the age of 36, the sequel to this book was written by Pohl alone. It'll be interesting to see how he manages it.

Although the book was written in 1952, there's a clear correlation between the events an the world shown in the book, and that of the film Fast Food Nation. Both contain an adman in a corrupt business, with conservations threatened and persecuted. The link obviously isn't intentional, but it's an odd and slightly scary coincidence.

In summary, I loved The Space Merchants. Pohl and Kornbluth are both masters of the sci-fi genre. The book is fairly short, but manages to get a good amount of plot into the space. The changes in Mitch's character are dramatic but perfectly logical and believable, and the book is way ahead of it's time, with it's discussion of issues which are only now beginning to achieve mainstream importance, such as the conservation of natural resources, and overpopulation.

In Which We Discuss the Midnight Club

Most of Christopher Pike's teen horror books are good in their own way, easily some of the best in the genre. But this is something else. This isn't really a horror story. It's more spiritual and supernatural.

The story focuses on a group of teenagers in a youth hospice. All of them are dying. They start meeting in the club room every night at midnight and telling each other stories.

The stories within the stories are good in their own right. Having read some of Christopher Pike's short stories, it's obvious that he hasn't skimped on these, despite them being merely stories within a story.

The most important part of the plot, however, is the 'real' story if you will, the way all the characters tie together. Christopher Pike's normal views on spirituality are shown in this book, as in many of his others, and, as always, it's effective. Despite this being aimed at teenagers there's a depth and a sense of serious tragedy to it that isn't found in many books. Unfortunately, due to the audience the book is aimed at, the brevity and lack of depth given to some of the more interesting issues and ideas can be a little frustrating. This book is deeper than a normal teen book, but it's not as in depth as it would be had it been written for an older audience.

Although this book is technically classed as a horror, it's not all that scary. The main story is more supernatural than horrible. As I mentioned, every single character is dying. How each character got their illness, the way in which this is revealed and their subsequent endings (sometimes death) is dealt with with a delicacy and sweetness that is capable of reducing a person to tears.

This book is one of those that will leave you thinking. It's not really big, or important. It's not all that long, and I doubt it will ever be as famous as some others. It's just a simple little story. But maybe that's why it's so effective.

In Which We Discuss Vamped

Marty Kowalski is bored out of his skull. This shouldn't be surprising – he is over two hundred years old.

Marty became a vampire in the midst of World War II. In the years since then, since the vampires joined with the prostitutes and allied with the church, the ranks of the vampires have grown, to the point where human beings are almost non-existent. Vampires no longer need to hunt; blood is grown through stem cell research, and sold like coke or any other popular drink. It even has various additives; one brand of blood is the equivalent of tea, and is designed to taste as if the victim died peacefully. Another brand, the equivalent of a sports drink, has added adrenaline (incidentally, more than three times enough to give someone a heart attack), supposedly to taste like the blood of someone who died screaming. With no need to hunt anymore, vampires have gone back to their day jobs, and most of them accept the status quo. Marty, however, one of the first vampires, remembers that "lab-grown [blood] versus the real thing is like Tang next to fresh-squeezed", and is suffering a kind of vampire midlife crisis. Vampires don't have midlives, of course, but many seem to fall under the spell of this kind of ennui around the time they should have died.

Marty has begun playing fast and loose with his own health, such as it is. He drives recklessly, and has already removed his seatbelts and airbags. He doesn't go out in the daylight; in this world, vampires are physically incapable of being awake in daylight hours, although they can be burnt by sunlight. He has no problems with garlic, and of course vampires have reflections – how else did Dracula get that parting so straight? Marty reflects all the time; in mirrors. In chrome. In his lonelier moments.

So when Marty runs into Isuzu, a young, fresh little refugee from the human farms made to cater for rich vampires, he's pleased. Knowing just how rare she is, he decides not to kill her at first. No. He'll wait. Besides, right now she's just stopped being scared and stale adrenaline has an odd aftertaste. Better to wait and scare her fresh when he's ready.

The problem with delayed gratification is, of course, the delay. Marty needs to take care of this little six-year-old human, at least for a time. So he does. Just for a little while.

But then he starts to realize; maybe the warmth and humour a child has will be more interesting than a quick kill. Maybe looking after her properly will be more rewarding then just killing her.

And so, just like that, Marty becomes a father. Vampires can't have their own children, partly because vampires don't age, and many of them miss at least this aspect of mortality. There are programs such as "Little Bobby", which focus on human children growing up, which are very popular. This doesn't mean, however, that one of Marty's neighbors wouldn't snap Isuzu in two without a second thought. So, her existence must be kept secret. Then there's the fact that human food isn't sold anymore, except as artifacts on e-bay. And, luckily, as pet food. After the change, most human food was simply relabeled, and all the animals meant for human consumption were simply used for pets. Medicine, on the other hand, is a little harder to get ahold of.

And so, Isuzu and Marty begin adjusting to each other. The book is told in first person, from Marty's point of view, and much of it focuses on his reaction to becoming a father. Surprisingly, most of the issues he comes across are somewhat normal and human, even in the unusual situation. Of course, it's the unusual, vampire only concerns, which keep the book fresh, and prevent it from being just another fatherhood story. Although the fatherhood part of the book is surprisingly touching and real.

Although the Marty-Isuzu pairing may sound reminiscent of Lestat, Louis and Claudia, nothing could be further from the truth. Somehow, Sosnowski manages to keep the vampiric elements of the story on the right side of believable without delving too far into fantasy or horror, despite the subject matter.

Sosnowski effortlessly slips between present day and back-story, linking Marty's relationship with his parents and his own youth, with his efforts to keep Isuzu safe and happy. Sosnowski's droll wit and rhythmic writing style, and the unique and believable alternate world he has created are interesting and absorbing, making the book a pleasure to read.

In summary, Vamped manages to remain sweet, touching and, in places, funny, without allowing the fantasy elements to overwhelm it.

In Which We Discuss Things That Were

Was is an interesting novel. It reminded me, more than anything, of Karen Wallace's Wendy, a book which re-writes the events of Peter Pan as if they were a metaphor for a far worse situation.

Was focuses mostly on the life of Dorothy Gael (sic). After the death of her parents she is sent to live with her aunt and uncle, Henry and Emma Gulch. Her life with them is not at all easy or pleasant, and, like many children in such situations, she has nowhere to turn, having gained a reputation as a liar. She does, indeed, lie constantly, to herself and others. It is the only way she can cope with her life as it is (much like Jean Ure's Bad Alice).

There are, however, two other main strands of the plot. The shorter one focuses on Frances Ethel Gumm (a name film buffs may know, although she became famous under a very different pseudonym). Her section is very short, comparatively; perhaps because this character is, in fact, a real, incredibly well known person, and so artistic liberties cannot be taken to such an extent as with the other characters.

Frances Gumm

The third character is Jonathan, a gay actor dying of Aids. As he grows older he has become more and more obsessed with collecting and photographing the past - old buildings that still stand, and places where people he admires have lived.

Each of these three people were greatly affected by L. Frank Baum's Wizard of Oz. Dorothy did not see the film until the very end of her life; Frances experienced it during her late teens; and Jonathan was brought up on it, falling in love with the story and its origins. Eventually, events come full circle, which I found very effective.

I haven't seen the film in years, and I'm sure someone who knows it well may have picked up references and ideas that I didn't. The writing is good, and the plot is amazing. I really couldn't put this down - I almost got in trouble at work reading it. The idea behind it is brilliant, and fairly original.

To be honest, I really can't find the words to describe this book. The characters are touching and believable, and although the ending could have been horrible and tragic, Geoff Ryman went down the other route, giving the most satisfying (although not happy) ending possible. The addition of a end note detailing exactly which bits were based on reality was a helpful addition, as the book is very plausible.

All in all, it's a book with great depth, that leaves you with a great deal to think about. It's a fairly long book, and not for everyone. Still, it's amazing.

In Which We Discuss Wedded Blitz

Tina Reilly is one of my favourite authors, based purely on the book Is This Love?. Unfortunately, not one of her other books is quite as good, in my opinion, as that one.

Wedded Blitz is the story of a couple whose marriage has fallen apart. The reason for it is cliched (their son died and they were unable to communicate and deal with their grief), and there is nothing original or exciting about the way it is handled in this book. There are very few twists and turns in this book that are not obvious beforehand, and those that do surprise you seem tacked on and forced. The subplots involved, such as the wife's business suffering and her efforts to save it, and the husband's friend dealing with unexpected fatherhood are far more interesting than the main plot, which, frankly is not saying much.

All in all, not her best work. Tina Reilly is not a bad author, but her recent books are very disappointing.

In Which We Discuss The Devil Wears Prada

When Andrea (Andy) Sachs takes on a job in fashion – telling herself it's only a stepping stone to her dream job at the New Yorker – she takes on more than she bargained for. Her boss, Miranda Priestly, is the most influential person in fashion, and, Andrea is convinced, the Devil incarnate. Every day, as Miranda's personal assistant, Andrea is asked to achieve the impossible, and, once she manages it, it's added to her list of daily duties.

It's said that working for Miranda for a year – and not getting fired – can guarantee you a job almost anywhere you like, and trusting in this, Andrea begins counting down the days. Her boyfriend, Alex, and her best friend Lily, and even her parents, are unable to understand how important this is to her, and how strict Miranda is. Too rushed off her feet to find time to explain, Andrea finds her relationships with everyone close to her suffering.

One area in which the novel suffers is in characterization. Miranda Priestly, the boss from hell, is a masterpiece. You really do hate her, and since that is her role in the novel, since that's the whole idea behind her existence, then it works great. But there are very few likable characters in the novel. Christian Collinsworth, who plays the role of Andy's knight in shining armour, her apple in Eden, is smarmy, arrogant, and selfish. Andy's boyfriend, Alex, is moralistic preacher figure, and although I'm sure he's a lovely person, he's not someone I'd enjoy spending time with. Andy's best friend, Lily, is equally selfish. Every character in the novel goes on and on about Andy's neglecting them, yet not one of them attempts to understand how difficult her life and her job is, or even help her hold on to her sanity for the year she needs to spend there.

The book is told in first person, and so the main character the reader gets to know is Andy herself. Andy is something of a hypocritical snob, yet manages to be the most likable character in the book. This speaks volumes.

Lauren Weisberger writes in a very gossipy style, and it's rumored that the book is a roman à clef about Vogue magazine, with the character of Miranda Priestly based on the editor of the aforementioned magazine, Anna Wintour. Although Weisberger denies that this is true, that's said to be the defining factor that propelled the book up the bestseller lists.

Perhaps not entirely unexpected in a book whose title contains the word "devil" religion is something of a subliminal theme. Andrea is Jewish, as was Miranda Priestly before she changed her name, became the editor of Runway, and stopped writing home. Andrea's Jewish friends Alex Fineman and Lily Goodwin, find themselves neglected in favour of Miranda Priestly, and Christian Collinsworth as the book progresses, as if Andrea is turning her back on everything she knows, in this case, religion, and following the same path Miranda once did.

The ending suffers, and greatly degrades the rest of the book. It's almost heavily moralistic, and very clichéd.

In summary, a fairly interesting novel, far too weighed down by its morals and unlikable characters.

In Which We Discuss The Gate to Women's Country

The Gate to Women's Country is set in the future of our own world, as many of Tepper's books are. The world as we know it has been destroyed - in this case, judging by hints in the book, by nuclear power - and the resulting civilizations that form from the small pocketed remnants of humanity are usually vastly different although not entirely separated from the world we know. The alternative is that humanity eventually meets with other worlds, enabling different societies to be shown and contrasted in that way.

Anyway, the book begins with the main character, Stavia. She is heading for a meeting with her fifteen year old son, David, who has spent the last ten years living outside the city walls as a warrior, as all boys do. No man is tested in battle till the age of twenty-five; between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five he must make a choice; to return through the gate to women's country, renouncing the warriors, and living his life as a servitor, studying rather than fighting, or to renounce his mother and live outside as a warrior, returning only once a year for Carnival (the only time women and warriors meet in an intimate manner, although they may talk over the wall at other times). The servitors are looked down on by the warriors, and some are even attacked by their century as they return through the gate. It is rumoured among the warriors that the returning servitors are castrated. It is, at least, known that the servitors never father children, since every son is brought to his warrior father (a daughter's parentage is not discussed unless she seems to be becoming involved with a close relative). There are many cities in women's country (Stavia's home, and therefore the main setting of the book being Marthatown), the cities branching off when they reach the point where they are unable to support themselves on the land nearby.

While the women spend their lives learning, rediscovering the knowledge that was lost, and growing food, the warriors spend their time in ceremonies, games (with sports similar to our football/soccer), and, of course, in battles with other garrisons. Warriors are not allowed to study; the founders of women's country decided that wars must be fought in hand to hand combat. They refused to allow warriors to learn techniques that will enable them to attack cities, to kill many people at a distance, and so on. A warrior must see the face of the man he kills. Therefore, when a garrison goes to war, to protect its city, no women or children are killed. Only men who have chosen to fight do so.

However, some women, (often blinded with love for a certain warrior) feel that the ordinances are silly and pointless. A few women run away to live as whores outside the city, some because a warrior has convinced them that he will run away with them, and others simply because they prefer it. Others, including Stavia, break or bend the ordinances in other ways, often not fully realising the point of the ordinances and the effects of their actions.

Some of the warriors also feel that the ordinances are pointless. Some of them make a game of seducing women out of the city walls, while others have more ambitious and sinister plans. Some of the warriors feel that, even if they take over the cities, the women will continue growing food for, and supporting them, while they both have their cake and eat it. They believe that the women have some secret, some weapon or such, and they feel that they deserve to share in it. Several warriors believe that if the women do have such a weapon they would be fully justified in taking it, women being too weak to handle such power.

The rest of the story is told in flashbacks from Stavia's meeting with Dawid, most of the book focusing on Stavia's romance with Chernon, a young warrior. As Stavia struggles with her feelings for Chernon and her respect for the ordinances, which forbid much of what he asks her to do. As certain events come to pass, Stavia finally learns why women's country is the way it is.

The twist, when it finally comes, is amazing, and completely unexpected, despite the many hints and foreshadowing's in the book. I bullied my boyfriend into reading this, and I had to try so hard to stop myself from blurting it out before he got to it.

The characters are amazing, and have a great amount of depth. The servitor who lives with Stavia's family, Joshua, although presented as merely background for most of the book, is, in fact, one of the most important characters. The amount of depth and emotion given to him is incredible, and allows the reader to empathize with him perfectly.

Although this book is as old as I am, it doesn't seem at all dated to me. Despite being one of Tepper's shorter books, at just over three hundred pages, it still has a great amount of depth and plot for you to mull over.

The contrast of societies is also fascinating. Halfway through the book, another society, separate from women's country is introduced. This is more patriarchal, and practices bigamy, despite a shortage of females (due to a practice of female infanticide a decade or so before). The differences and similarities between this society, women's country, and our own world give you a lot to think about. No society is perfect of course, but the thought of something completely different is interesting.

This is a feminist book, so, naturally, many of the villains of the piece are male while many of the heroes are, in fact, heroines. Some characters, such as Joshua provide balance, but the book is essentially about the difference between stereotypical male and female values.

In summary, this book is amazing. I love Sheri S. Tepper's work, and although this isn't my favourite, it does have a certain charm all its own.

In Which We Discuss Prep

Prep is a coming of age novel, so it's more character than plot driven. It essentially tells the story of Lee Fiora, a girl from Indiana, who has worked hard to attain a scholarship for renowned New England Prep school, Ault.

Lee soon adopts an MO of simply hiding in the background and watching her classmates, being too shy and uncertain of herself (and her Midwest background) to try and fit in. Like any teenager, she worries about the smallest issues, which, most people come to realise, matter very little once you're past the age of thirteen.

In essence, the plot simply follows Lee throughout High School, in a way which is reminiscent of many peoples experiences in High, or Secondary school. Many events in the novel remind me of things which I recall from my own schooldays, despite being set about thirty years before (a date isn't given, but I'd guess late seventies), which only goes to show that teenagers don't change much.

Although none of them embody pure stereotypes (or at least none that I implicitly recognise), most of the characters in the novel fit the mold of rich East coast Prep school students, and, Lee, who, although she was confident before, becomes worried that her Midwest accent and lack of knowledge and experience in certain situations will give her away. Another issue is her relationship with her parents - at one point she observes that she hates them for thinking that she's like them; but she worries that if she isn't, she's betrayed them, and if she is, she's betrayed Ault and everything she worked for.

The obvious characters to mention would be Cross Sugarman and Aspeth Montgomery. Cross Sugarman is the popular boy, and, throughout most of her high school career, her crush. He's one of the few characters in the novel constantly referred to by both first name and last name - except for the times when he's called Purple Monkey (a code between Lee and a friend, when they wish to discuss things privately).

Aspeth is the popular girl - blonde-haired, blue-eyed, rich, and flirty. At one point, Lee describes her as "the girl rock songs are written about". Later in the novel, it becomes apparent that she's become used to getting her own way, merely because of who she is.

Dede Schwartz and Sin-Jun Kim also warrant a mention. The two girls were Lee's roommates during her first year at Ault, and, despite not being close friends, they remain in each others lives from then on.

Dede is a follower. Although she's rich, that doesn't make her special within Ault. Although she takes good care of herself, she's not as pretty as many of the other girls. She spends much of her time trying to get close to Aspeth, and is sometimes mean to Lee or other girls in this aim. However, she and Lee have an almost sibling-like relationship; they remain close despite any arguments, and despite the fact that they rarely talk.

Sin-Jun, Lee's other original roommate, is the daughter of a rich Korean business man. Although at first she keeps her head down, later in the novel she comes into her own, and ends up being one of the few people the adult Lee remains in contact with.

Sittenfeld's writing is easy to read, and she has a talent for description and dialogue. It was said of the novel that "Sittenfeld's dialogue is so convincing that one wonders if she didn't wear a wire under her hockey kilt," and I must say, I concur.

The novel isn't strong on plot, and yet reads well, driven by character, and by the automatic changes which take place during your high school years, driven purely by time rather than any outward events.

The novel deals a lot with stereotypes and cultural distinctions. This was sometimes a little confusing for me, or rather, did not make the impact intended, purely because I'm English, and the book is written presuming that the reader was brought up in America. A lot of the time, I needed to ask why it was such a big deal that Lee was from the Midwest, or, for instance, what exactly the cultural significance of New England was.

Another theme in the book is money. As a scholarship student, Lee feels inadequate compared to her classmates, and, as has been said, she spends a lot of time trying to hide this. She does, however, work out various ways to tell if other students are on scholarships or not. I didn't discuss Lee as a character, because, since the novel is told through first-person narrative, Lee is essentially a conduit rather than a character in her own right, especially considering that she usually takes a reactive, rather than an active role.

In summary, Prep's an interesting novel, and the ideas and experiences told within it would have been helpful to me at a younger age, and, in fact, are still relevant right now. It's suspected that the story is more autobiographical than it's supposed to be, and I can see where that impression came from.

All in all, it's an interesting, easy to read novel, although I suspect that a teenage girl, or someone in her early twenties would get more out of it than any other reader.

In Which We Discuss The Girls

The Girls tells the story of conjoined twins, Rose and Ruby Darlen. The story is told in first person, mostly from the point of view of Rose, and is designed as an autobiography. Rose's chapters are interspersed with shorter sections of Ruby's writing.

One of the more interesting things about the novel is how normal it seems. Conjoined twins are very rare, and it's likely that most people have never met a pair in their life, let alone gotten to know them well. Yet Lori Lansens manages to capture the situation almost perfectly, as far as it is possible for me to judge. Yes, conjoined twins are unusual, and it's impossible to forget that that's the situation of the people you're reading about; yet, after a time, one can put it to the back of their mind, as the characters have, and as I imagine conjoined twins would. It becomes normal.

Unlike in the 2003 film Stuck On You which dealt with a similar subject matter, The Girls doesn't attempt to poke fun at conjoined twins or even treat it in a comedic manner. The book can be funny, but it's in no way forced. The situation isn't treated as strangely; it's not in the same vein as the freak shows which existed in the last century, and served to highlight differences and exhibit the unusual. Instead, the most striking thing about the book is, if not exactly the normalcy, how believable and like people I could know the characters are.

Ruby and Rose are joined at the head; while Ruby's face is normal and even attractive, Rose's features are twisted and pulled by their conjoinment. Although their brains are completely separate, Rose and Ruby share a network of veins which makes their separation impossible. Rose's body is mostly fully formed, while Ruby's legs are stunted. Throughout their lives, Rose is forced to carry Ruby, each of them only being able to use one arm freely.

I suspect that Rose and Ruby are heavily based on real life conjoined twins Lori and George Schappell, from Pennsylvania. A number of coincidences within both sets of twins' physical structure, the nature of their conjoinment, and a few similarities in the way they deal their situation with have lead me to that conclusion.

The story is told by Rose and Ruby looking back over their lives, and describes their birth during a tornado, and their upbringing. Their mother was not seen again, and did not give her real name during their birth, and this theme of lost mothers and children subtly threads its way throughout the novel. One character who has a major effect on the twins' life is Cathy Merkel, a woman who lost her only son during the same tornado Rose and Ruby were born in, and there are many other times when a mother searching for children or children searching for their mother becomes important.

The book is almost a coming of age story, and so a number of plots and storylines are combined, with the changes within the characters more important than specific events.

In summary, The Girls is a fascinating look at the life of conjoined twins, and manages to be touching, sensitive, realistic, and lifelike.

In Which We Dicuss The Abortionist's Daughter

When high profile abortion doctor Diana Duprey is found dead in her home, at first it seems to be a simple accident; until, that is, the police find suspicious bruises on her body, and the case becomes that of a murder.

The book is told in third person, and focuses on a number of characters; significantly, the titular abortionist's daughter, Megan, Diana's husband Frank, and the police officers assigned to the case. It's a small town, and the various relationships that exist or begin between these characters effect the book and the situation in a myriad of ways.

One of the things I found most fascinating about The Abortionist's Daughter was the way in which so many themes are intertwined. At first, the main theme seems to be that of the relationship between mother and daughter, and this does remain relatively important throughout the book. But then, the themes which seemed merely subliminal at first subtly grow throughout the novel, and in a classic case of distracted attention, something the reader was only vaguely aware of seeps into ones consciousness and becomes the focal point of the novel.

However, this leads to a slight flaw; once the reader is aware of the true situation, and the story has become somewhat settled, it seems to be over too quickly.

It also leads to an interesting effect; normally, it is easy to say what a novel's about, but, in this case, it's far more difficult to articulate it so simply. One could say it's a novel about abortion, and that would be right, but it's hardly the full story. One reader could see it as being about the effects of keeping things from one's family, or about the problems with a lack of communication, even for the best reasons, and that would be right too. For me, the most important theme is that of obsession, and the dangers of it, although that isn't developed enough in comparison to other issues that one could claim it is the main feature of the book. The novel feels surprisingly fluid, and allows the reader to see in it what they will. That's an unusual effect in many novels, although the coming of age genre embodies it somewhat, and it's an interesting sensation. There are so many threads of plot, and so many ideas, and one cannot name which of them is the main strand, as each contribution is equally important.

It would be possible to draw themes of the law as relating to the protection of woman from the book – particularly the laws related to stalking, something which still isn't seen as a major problem in many parts of the world - but that would involve putting more stress than the author designed on those elements. The book isn't preachy, and if it aims to make a point, it does so with perfect delicacy. It's a story which shows a situation, not a moralistic tale.

The characters are likeable, for the most part, although none of them seem to be fully developed. It's not that they're two dimensional – more that there seems to be more to them than is displayed in the book. On the whole, this is more of a positive effect than a negative one; it feels like the reader is allowed a window into another life, and that there's more going on behind the scenes. Like the characters exist for more reasons than simply to walk on and off the page when it's convenient for the plot.

Terry Pratchett achieved something similar with his Discworld series, particularly the city of Ankh Morpork, which in many ways, seems like a real city, with people who would continue to exist and need feeding with or without the main characters getting on with the plot. The Abortionist's Daughter has a very adult feel compared to the Discworld books, however, which is not the say that the aforementioned series is childish. It's more that any book with the word "abortion" in the title has an odds-on chance of being particularly grotesque, as the subject itself is. The somewhat graphic descriptions are indeed slightly disturbing, although fortunately, they are relatively sparse throughout the novel, and are, for the most part, necessary to the plot.

The book doesn't really present a balanced argument of the pro-life/pro-choice debate, which isn't a bad thing. There are a number of situations showcased, and characters make different decisions; abortion is never an easy or comfortable decision, or even operation, and it's dealt with sensitively, yet without flinching away from the realness of it. The author expresses, through the characters, an opinion which I agree with as a solid pro-choicer, and for the pro-life campaigners, I respectfully suggest that this book isn't for you.

In Which We Discuss The Accidental Mother

The Accidental Mother follows the story of Sophie, a woman who has worked hard and is close to getting the promotion she has worked towards for years. She has no social life, and has issues with relationships; her one serious relationship was at the age of twenty-seven, and ended because she couldn't handle the commitment or emotions. However, when her best friend (who she has lost contact with, naturally) dies and leaves Sophie as the sole guardian of her two children, Sophie is forced to let other people become closer to her.

This is stereotypical chick-lit. Poor, lonely, closed in woman seeks person or people to bring her out of herself and make her world bright and shiny. The idea is not as overdone as some, but it's definitely been seen before. The characters, however, are entirely predictable and ever-so-slightly dull and stereotypical.

It's a sweet book, and there are a few surprises. However, any aficionado of such books will already know pretty much the full plot and characters. The only parts that really took me by surprise did so by being just as predictable as I'd feared they would be; I honestly thought writers grew out of those tired cliches ten years ago.

In summary, it's worth reading for anyone who really likes chick-lit, but other than that, don't bother. Really, don't.

In Which We Discuss Family Trust

This book is amazingly similar to The Accidental Mother, although Family Trust was written first, which further cements The Accidental Mother's place as a cheap rip off of better books.

Becca Reinhart is very focused on her career. Although the cliched career ice queen is a long standing figure in this sort of book, Becca manages to be both unique and likable. She doesn't have any commitment issues or anything similar that has prevented her from holding down a relationship, and nor is she getting over a broken heart, or the death of her father, or any other tragedy which would neatly explain why she needs some nice, loving man to open her eyes to what a reward family life really is. Becca doesn't need anything like that. She's a busy women who just happens not to be in a relationship, and isn't looking for one. To be honest, that's a very refreshing scenario.

Edward Kirkland is a typical rich, spoilt, high society kind of guy. His family set up is similar to that of Elle Woods in Legally Blonde (which was, perhaps not entirely surprisingly, written by the same author). His bride-to-be is named Bunny. Yes, Bunny. She's not his fiancee, you understand. She's simply the girl from the right family background, and the right set-up, who grew up with him, and who his mother (and everyone else, including Bunny herself) expects him to marry.

Although Eddie and Becca have never met, each has a friend who names them as guardian to their child. When these two parents die simultaneously in a plane accident, both wills are in effect. Since there are no obvious problems, both of these mismatched people are given charge of the four-year-old girl in question (while being closely watched by various legal representatives, natch). That's the basic plot of the book; how Becca and Eddie manage to subdue each other into submission and work together to raise a child.

Of course, there are other subplots and characters who contribute. Becca's capable mother, who insists on holding the title of grandmother (and acts accordingly). Eddie's mother who refuses to acknowledge his new daughter's presence. Bunny, Eddie's manipulative bride/stalker, who has no interest in the child and plans to ship her off to Switzerland, and, of course, (*Spoiler Warning*) the growing romance between Eddie and Becca (*End Spoiler*). Now, you saw that last bit coming, didn't you?

Family Trust is a book that should be cliched, but, through some miracle, isn't. The characters are all unique, and, if not likable in themselves, are at least not mind-numbingly boring. Eddie and Becca's growing love for their new daughter (they both immediately refer to her as their daughter, which is rather sweet) is adorable, and, although her parents are not even mentioned except in the past tense, Becca's relationship with the girl's mother and Eddie's with her father manage to be realistic and touching.

All in all, it's the good version of The Accidental Mother.

In Which We Discuss the Monstrous Regiment

There's a war on in Borogravia. This is not unusual.

For those who don't know the series, the Discworld is a flat disc of a world, which rests on the back of four giant elephants, who, in turn, rest on the back of a giant tortoise named Great A'tuin. The disc is made up of various cities, towns, and other areas. The main city is Ankh-Morpork, which a cross between Victorian London and modern day New York, with a dash of magic instead of electricity. Then there are the Ramtops, mountains that contain various small villages, as well as a few tribes of dwarfs and trolls. Although the Discworld books follow a rough chronological order, they do not follow the same characters. There are a few major story arcs, which several books in the series return to – for instance, Commander Vimes and the Ankh-Morpork City Watch, Rincewind the Wizzard [sic], Esme Weatherwax and the other Ramtop witches, and several others. Several books follow Death, a character who is the only one to claim the distinction of showing up in every single book, in however minor a role, which is suspected to signify that Death is always with us. Of course, he's far too endearing to be scary.

So far at least, Monstrous Regiment is one of the few stand-alone novels of the series, with characters who mostly have not, as yet, been heard from again. This is a pity.

Monstrous Regiment takes place in an area of the Disc that can best be compared to Western Europe or the Middle East. Borogravia, a country comparable in some ways to Russia, is always at war with the countries surrounding it. The Borogravian language, in fact, has a word that means, "The sun has risen! Let's make war!"

As Pratchett observes, it takes a very special kind of history to fit all that in one word.

As well as the constant war, Borogravia also suffers under the thumb of the god Nuggan. Nuggan can best be described as...strict. The Books of Nuggan are ring binders, so that extra pages can easily be added to accommodate all of Nuggan's abominations, which are updated with alarming regularity. Nuggan is strictly against the colour blue, babies, girls with long hair, the smell of beets, sneezing, chocolate, garlic and cats, among other things. He's also against land that was once used for growing grain or peas being used to grow root vegetables. In a farming economy like Borogravia that means no real crop rotation, which means the land is less fertile, which means, essentially, that Borogravia is starving.

And still the war goes on. But Borogravia is running out of young men.

Polly Perks' family owns an Inn named the Duchess, in Munz, one of the bigger towns of Borogravia. According to Nugganite law, Polly can't inherit the Inn, despite being the best candidate. Her brother, Paul, could have, but he's been missing in action for the past year or so. Despite his being the elder, Polly has always been responsible for taking care of Paul. So, to this end, she cuts off her hair, practices using the bathroom standing up, gets herself a pair of trousers, and, as Oliver, joins the Borogravian regiment, the Ins-and-Outs.

Polly isn't the only one to join. There's also Tonker and Lofty, the two who are never apart. Tonker's the brave, slightly violent one, while Lofty prefers to stay in the shadows. Then there's Shufti, who can cook, and Wazzer, who doesn't do much except stutter and pray. Carborundum is a troll, who doesn't really do much except act as a tank when needed.

There's also an Igor. Igor's in the Discworld belong to an odd tribe. All of them are called Igor, and they all have scars, which are the equivalent of tribal markings. They are brilliant surgeons, although their practice of using parts from dead bodies can make some people, particularly strict Nugganites, somewhat uncomfortable. As Igor points out, however, "Soldiers don't care who patches them up".

The final recruit is Maladict, a vampire, and a Black Ribboner. On the Discworld, vampires have begun to realize that if they want to get by in a modern society, they should probably stop drinking human blood, since it tends to make them unpopular. To this end, is the Black Ribbon society, a kind of vampire Alcoholics Anonymous. Vampires cannot stop craving blood; they can merely transfer the craving to something more socially acceptable. In Maladict's case, this is coffee, a supply of which is always carried with him.

These raw recruits come under the command of Corporal Strappi, who is not the sort of person whose orders you want to follow, and Sergeant Jackrum, who is almost legendary within the Borogravian army.

Strappi is somewhat prejudiced against certain of the recruits, particularly Igor and Maladict. Sergeant Jackrum addresses his concerns somewhat sardonically. When Maladict enlists, and Strappi asks "yeah, but s'posin' he wants to suck all my blood out in the middle of the night?" Jackrum replies "Well, he'll just have to wait until Private Igor's finished looking for your brain, won't he?"
right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=deislite-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0060872675&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;">Some of the City Watch characters also show up – Commander Vimes, Sergeant Angua, Reg Shoe, and Buggy Swires, to name a few. For those of you who are new to the Discworld series, there are several books focusing on the City Watch, beginning with Guards, Guards! and including Men At Arms, Feet of Clay, Jingo, the Fifth Elephant, Night Watch, Thud! And Where's My Cow?, the latter two of which were published after Monstrous Regiment. Where's My Cow? focuses on Vimes and his son, and is aimed at young children, although there are various references that older readers will appreciate. William de Worde and Otto Chriek, from The Truth also make an appearance.

As the recruits march onwards they soon discover that, as opposed to what the various propaganda given to them says, they are not winning the war. Their country is dying. And yet, they can see no way out. They are too proud to surrender to Prince Heinrich of Zoblenia, who is something of a bully, and, as we see fairly early on, not a very nice man. So, the raw recruits of the Ins-And-Outs end up being dragged deeper and deeper into a war that they cannot see any way of winning. The only hope they have is sergeant Jackrum's promise; "You are my little lads…and I will look after you."

Terry Pratchett writes, as usual, in third-person, occasionally zooming in on one characters thoughts. Monstrous Regiment is somewhat reminiscent of Jingo, in subject matter. This book also contains more real world references than many others, especially when Maladict's coffee runs out, and he begins having flash-sideways (like flashbacks, only someone else's memories) to the Vietnam War. There are several other references to the Vietnam War, including Wazzer's statement that he's "N-n-nineteen," years old.

The novel is peppered with Pratchett's trademark footnotes, and hilarious dialogue. Sometimes the most mundane things are funny, simply due to the way he tells them. For instance, Maladict's saying "yo!" rather than "yes sir" as part of the effect of his lack of coffee cracks me up every time, although it doesn't sound like it should.

As usual, in Discworld novels, Pratchett satirizes the real world in some way. The obvious themes of Monstrous Regiment are feminism, folk songs, patriotism, crippling belief systems and the military. One scene, near the beginning of the book shows the recruits marching in one direction while a large number of civilians race in the opposite direction. Many of them appear to be carrying their entire homes on their backs. The following exchange takes place between Maladict and Corporal Strappi;

"What's this all about, Sarge? These look like refugees!"

"Talk like that spreads Alarm and Despondency!"

"Oh, you mean they're just people getting away early for the holidays to avoid the rush? Sorry, I got confused. It must be that woman carrying a whole haystack we just passed."

"D' you know what can happen to you for insulting a superior officer?"

"No! Tell me, is it worse than whatever it is these people are running away from?"

"You signed up, Mr. Bloodsucker! You obey orders!"

"Right! But I don't remember anyone ordering me not to think!"

Another interesting aspect of the Discworld is that the strangest things in the books are those taken almost entirely from real life, rather than the fictional elements. An example is Pratchett's description of a battlefield as a resembling a moving city. It sounds ridiculous that a battlefield could resemble a city, but during a long siege, well, men have needs. To be honest, that isn't the best example, but there are so many small ones within this novel, and all the Discworld books, that later research will often have you saying, "I thought he made that up!" Or it does me, rather. I'm exactly the kind of person to make a point of digging out tiny references, which just makes the series more enjoyable.

Throughout this review, I've quoted examples of dialogue from the book, and this is a common side effect of Discworld novels. To annoy everyone by reciting your favourite passages. I've exercised some restraint here, but honestly, you can open the book at random, and pretty much all of it is quotable.

In summary, this is a great addition to the Discworld series, introducing new characters, expanding on previously little or unvisited countries, and returning some older characters, too. This is the Discworld book I most often recommend as an introduction to the series. It's late enough in the series that Terry Pratchett has really settled in to writing the books, and as a stand-alone, there's no back-story that needs to be explained. In some of the earliest Discworld books, I got the distinct impression that Pratchett was merely showing off at times, and sometimes the references and satire were too heavy for the book to easily cope with. Happily, this isn't a criticism that can be levied at this book. Monstrous Regiment is my single favourite Discworld book, and in such a great series, that's saying something.

In Which We Discuss Love Lessons

Jacqueline Wilson is famous for her children's books, and although Love Lessons is aimed at slightly older readers, it's still best suited to young adolescents, probably girls between twelve and sixteen.

Fourteen-year-old Prudence and eleven-year-old Grace have had a somewhat unique upbringing. From a young age, they've been home schooled by their controlling father. At first it was for religious reasons, although after a while, even the vicar disagreed with their father's extreme methods.

Both girls work in their father's failing bookstore in their spare time, and, to his mind, it's what they'll do all their lives. Insistent that his younger daughter has "no more brains than a donkey" he constantly heaps criticism on her, while his idea of praising Prue is to tell her that one day she can design the dust cover for his "Magnum Opus", a work oddly reminiscent of the one Kate's husband is writing at the beginning of Nick Hornby's How to be Good. In other words, it's an arrogant self-centred man's ideas of what exactly is wrong with the world.

Prue's father is clearly the villain of the piece. He's not necessarily a bad man, just one insistent that he is right, always and forever, no matter what the rest of the world thinks. To the misfortune of the rest of the world in general and his daughters in particular he's managed to find a wife who agrees with his opinion of himself and who, partly due to his constant criticism of her, fails to stand up to him.

As you can see, the book follows Wilson's normal theme of children's issues with their parents and growing up. The storyline is oddly reminiscent of Lola Rose, mostly in the dynamics of Prue's parents relationship.

Like most of Wilson's characters, Prue is creative, and, like Ellie from Girls in Love, enjoys artwork. Her one dream is to go to art college, although, as her father's opinion is that "they don't paint at art school now, they just faff around with blocks of concrete and dead animals and pretend all that crap is creative," she doesn't seem to have much chance of achieving this. Until, that is, a heart attack takes their father out of the equation, and Prue is suddenly plunged into the terrifying world of teenagers.

With her home-made clothes and lack of social skills, Prue immediately attracts all the wrong kinds of attention. Her natural skill with writing and art alienates her from her classmates, while her lack of experience in an official environment and the gaps in her knowledge cause some of her teachers to dislike or resent her. All except for her art teacher, Rax, who quickly becomes the only person she feels she can depend on.

The entire book is told in first person, from Prue's point of view, and this enables the reader to empathize with and understand more fully her growing feelings for Rax. From this point on, the book could easily be very predictable, but, somehow, Jacqueline Wilson manages to avoid that trap, and what's left is a sweet and unique look at a forbidden relationship.

Prue isn't the most likeable of Wilson's heroines, and this book probably isn't Wilson's most absorbing. Personally, I preferred Dustbin Baby, The Lottie Project, or even The Illustrated Mum, although those were aimed at younger readers. As for older readers, the Girls series is probably preferable. Still, the truly original way in which the relationship is handled makes it worth reading, particularly for people who are already fans of Jacqueline Wilson's work.

Anyone who enjoyed this book might like to look at Jodi Picoult's Salem Falls, which also deals with inappropriate student-teacher relationships, although the book is aimed at adults, and handles the subject in a very different manner.

In Which We Discuss Loop

Although this review will avoid spoilers for Loop, I cannot promise that it will not contain spoilers for the prequels, Ring (Ringu) and Spiral (Rasen), or for any films based on the series.

I won't deny that I've been awaiting my copy of Loop for a long time, and the person who bought it for me has my eternal gratitude. Originally released in 1990, and translated from Japanese to English in the late nineties, Loop is the third book of the Ring series and continues the events of the previous books, Ring and Spiral. Many people will recognise Ring as the basis of the 1998 Japanese film and the 2002 American film, both of the same name.

Those who have seen the Ring films may be surprised by how much they differ from the books. Although Ring suffered minor changes compared to Spiral, it seems impossible, to me, that any sequel to those films based on this third instalment will be anything like the original. The films have spiralled (pun intended) on to such a different tangent, that the shocking events and conclusion of this novel, a conclusion which was subtly introduced in the previous books, cannot survive as a sequel to the films.

For the first few hundred pages of Loop, the reader will probably be wondering exactly how this book corresponds to the previous two. Spiral ended with a horrifying view of a hopeless future, something there seems to be no sign of in Loop. Loop, like Ring and Spiral, takes place in Japan, and considering how Spiral ended, it's highly unlikely that Kaoru, the main character, can live in the same country and yet be unaware of the events set in motion.

So, is the book set in the past, or far in the future, or do the events occur at the same time as in the previous books? How can Kaoru, be unaware of the worldwide events which began in Ring and Spiral? What, exactly, is going on here?

It takes a while for these questions to be answered, but with Suzuki, the ride is always enjoyable. The story begins with a young Kaoru, and introduces the character who we will spend the next almost-five-hundred pages with. As with the previous novels, the main character is interested in scientific discovery and genetics, and this is a major part of the story. The titular Loop is a computer program which mimics the evolution of live on earth, as one can learn from reading the back cover of the book. Scientific jargon abounds, and if this is something that put you off in the previous books, particularly Spiral, then perhaps another series is more your style.

Speaking of the back of the book, don't read it. In my honest opinion, it gives away far more than would be ideal of the novel. Fortunately, I didn't read it until after I finished the book, and I found the entire experience a lot more enjoyable for that. As with all books, the blurb appears to have been written by someone who heard only a Chinese whispers version of the book, and didn't think much of it. Don't read it if you can help it.

Loop has a rather different feel from its predecessors. While Ring and Spiral were chilling horror stories, Loop is more of a mystery novel, and, unlike after reading the previous two books, it's a lot easier to sleep at night after finishing Loop. It's true that Suzuki is a masterful horror writer, as anyone who has read Ring, Spiral or Dark Water – or even seen the films - will know, but I feel he handled the mystery of Loop equally well.

Loop does reference and describe parts of its predecessors – it's actually possible to read the book as a stand alone, as you could do with the other books. What's interesting about this is the way that scenes take on an entirely different air, simply because of the viewpoint they are told from. Loop is, once again, told in third person, but heavily leans on the impressions of a single character, as Ring did with Asakawa and Spiral did with Ando.

In summary, Loop is an excellent, imaginative, unique and original continuation of the Ring series, with Suzuki's consummate skill taking the books in a direction no one could have foreseen.

In Which We Discuss Plain Truth

Philadelphia lawyer, Ellie Hathaway is somewhat dissatisfied with her life and career. There's no reason why she should be – she's won almost every case she's come up against. She's kept murderers, rapists, and various other criminals out of jail. She's successfully suppressed evidence and won all her cases. She's just won yet another high profile case, although it does not improve her feelings. As Ellie describes it;

"My nightmares were full of children. Specifically, six little girls – two dark-haired, four fair, their knees sticking out beneath the plaid uniform jumper of St Ambrose's School, their hands twisting in their laps. I watched them grow up in an instant, you see; at the very moment a jury foreman acquitted my client, the elementary school principle who had molested them."

Her personal life isn't ideal, either. She always assumed that she'd have children by this point, and the fact that motherhood currently isn't an option is something that nags at her as her bodily clock ticks away. Despite being with her partner for eight years now, they aren't married, or even close to being so, and the face of the child she never had haunts her dreams.

However, for now, Ellie is remaining optimistic. Her partner, Stephen, has set up an interview for her at his firm, with a chance to be made senior partner. When her car's engine conks out on the highway, she is lucky not to be killed. But all Stephen can do is ask why she's late, and tell her "that's what taxi's are for."

So, Ellie decides to take a hiatus from her life and her career, and goes to stay with her aunt Leda, near Lancaster County, in Southeast Pennsylvania. She soon finds she's dropped straight into a murder trial, and despite her personal feelings, ends up helping the Amish girl accused, eighteen-year-old Katie Fisher.

A dead newborn was recently found at the Fisher family's farm. Medical experts say that it appears that the baby may have been smothered, and to local detective, Lizzie Munro, it seems that the most likely culprit would be the mother of the child. There is no obvious mother, though, until Katie is seen to be bleeding, and is forcefully taken to hospital. Despite all medical evidence, Katie continues insisting that she was never pregnant.

Katie's family, particularly her father, is traditionally Amish. When Lizzie asks if his daughter may have been pregnant, Aaron Fisher denies it, on the grounds that Katie was unmarried. When Lizzie gently points out that marriage is not a prerequisite for pregnancy, Aaron replies, "To us, it is."

Much of the book focuses on Amish culture, particularly as Ellie is required to stay at the Fisher's farm as Katie's guardian. I must confess, that my previous knowledge of the Amish faith comes, in it's entirety from Weird Al Yankovic's "Amish Paradise", which is definitely not the best source. However, subsequent research has shown that Picoult was pretty accurate in her portrayal. Lapsed Amish (practicing Amish deigned to comment) also say that she got it right.

The Amish characters in the book occupy a fairly wide variety of roles. Aaron Fisher, Katie's father, is tremendously strict, and hard on his family and himself. He goes far beyond what the ordnances require, and refuses to so much as acknowledge his lapsed son, Jacob.

Jacob wished to study beyond the eighth grade education Amish folk are normally given, and chose to do so rather than stay within his family. The Amish culture disapproves of individual achievement, which Jacob's study was seen as. However, although he was not a member of the faith, his father and his family were not required to forget him completely, and Sarah Fisher and her daughter, Katie, try their best to talk to him in secret.

Another character that left the Amish faith is Leda, both Katie and Ellie's aunt. Although she does not visit due to Aaron's strict views, she and Sarah are still in contact, and Leda provides the link between Ellie and Katie, at least at first.

Samuel Stolzfus, Katie's intended, is just a strong, atypical Amish man, trying to do what he believes is for the best. He occupies a similar role to Patrick in the film Saved! as far as portrayals of traditionally religious characters are concerned, and provides a stark contrast to Aaron.

The plot is told between a third-person viewpoint, with occasional first-person chapters from Ellie's point of view.

To be honest, I didn't find Ellie a sympathetic or truly believable person. Her obsession with a child is so great that she finds herself unable to truly sympathize with Katie, who she believes is guilty. I don't believe it. I don't believe it's possible to be so obsessed with motherhood that a person who would win cases for pedophiles and rapists would have difficulty arguing for someone accused of neonaticide. Of course, I'm young, and nowhere near to being a mother myself, and perhaps my opinion will change. But, for now, I just don't find it believable. Or rather, if I am to believe, then Ellie is hypocritical enough that I find myself unable to consider her a sympathetic character.

Jodi Picoult's writing is just as good and involving as in My Sister's Keeper although still not as witty or flowing as Sosnowski, another author on my mind, who wrote Vamped. For some reason I found this book slightly less enjoyable than My Sister's Keeper. It's most likely that the subject matter interested me less. There's also the fact that My Sister's Keeper focused more on the relationships between characters and was told by a wide variety, while Plain Truth is told only in third-person, or from the viewpoint of a character I didn't like very much.

However, just because I found the book less enjoyable doesn't mean that it was bad. On the contrary, I was unable to put it down, and am now reading it for the second time in as many weeks. I also picked up three more of Picoult's novels earlier, and, since hearing that Lifetime made Plain Truth into a film, I had the good fortune of accidentally and coincidentally tracking it down. Picoult made a new fan with My Sister's Keeper, and Plain Truth has only strengthened my respect for her writing.

In Which We Discuss Olivia's Luck

Another repost. I still love this book, although I haven't read it in a while.

I must admit, this is one of my favourite books.

Olivia met her husband Johnny when he was seventeen, ten years before. She'd been with her two best friends, Molly and Imogen. Although Molly had flirted with him, and then Imogen had dated him, it was Olivia who eventually married him. One of the main themes in the book is the claim all three girls always felt they had on Johnny.

Ten years later, as the book starts, Olivia, Johnny, and their daughter have just moved into their dream home and our working on redecorating it. Olivia is understandably shocked when Johnny suddenly announces that he's leaving her, especially when she discovers that it's for another woman. Whatever else he's been, Johnny's always been honourable. The idea of doing what's right has always been very important to him, and the development of the idea of what the effect of Johnny's idealistic (deceased) father, and living up to perfection has had on him takes up a good part of the book.

The book is over five hundred pages long, and so littered with subplots and events that it's impossible to briefly define it. There are many themes - as I said, how Olivia, Molly and Imogen's friendship has developed with the influence of a man they all loved, Johnny's attempts to live up to what he sees as his father's affection, Olivia's coping with bringing up her own daughter while trying not to repeat her mothers mistakes, as well as coming to terms with the realisation that, for years, her friend's mother has hated her. There're also the builders in the back garden, who have their own problems. Lance, Mac, Spiro and Alf, while essentially comic relief, are also well rounded and realistic characters, who all contribute to the plot in unique ways, much like all the other characters in the book. There are far more characters and subplots, but, realistically, it's impossible to describe them all. However, each event does contribute to the book as a whole. Each person contributes to Olivia's knowledge, ideas and experiences (the book being told from Olivia's point of view) and so colour the decisions she makes, whether subtly or obviously.

However, I suppose it could be said, that the most important part of the book is Olivia's attempts to cope with the desertion of her husband. Although he's been acting strangely for a while, she'd never once suspected an affair. It becomes worse when Olivia discovers that Nina, the other woman, is a teacher at her daughter, Claudia's school. At first Olivia is furious, but as time goes by, she begins to long for a glimpse of Nina merely to keep some semblance of a hold on Johnny. Although Olivia does her best to cope with her new status, her feelings of grief and betrayal are fairly well explored. The quality of writing in the book remains constant throughout (quite a feat, given the length), but two scenes really stand out. One of these scenes is when Olivia and Nina finally manage to confront each other, both in possession of all the facts, and neither attempting to play games. It's a truly powerful scene. Both women are portrayed sympathetically, and manage to present both sides of the discussion clearly and articulately.

The book is very feminine, and it may not be to everyone's taste. It's a little more serious and slightly more heavy than many of it's contemporaries, and, due to how fast I read, I really like the length. Many books end too soon, or feel slightly rushed, or just don't have enough substance. This book does, and I can honestly say that there isn't a single page I don't like or a single plot twist I would wish to change.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to reread it for the twelfth time.

In Which We Discuss Nineteen Minutes

Another repost, from that time I got really into Jodi Picoult. I'll be writing another post about her later, if I find the time.

Jodi Picoult is an immensely talented author, and she rarely disappoints her readers (note; I have since taken this back).

Nineteen Minutes, like all Picoult's other novels, demonstrates her established skill with dramatic wording, among other things. Take the opening paragraph after the prologue; after a litany of things that can be done in nineteen minutes, she ends with this chilling refrain;

"In nineteen minutes, you can stop the world or you can just jump off it.

In nineteen minutes, you can get revenge."

This kind of dramatic effect is seen in many other lines, as well as in the way Picoult's narrative moves quickly between various characters and plot lines, often ending on a dramatic line or semi-cliff-hanger, in a style similar to that of Terry Pratchett or Sheri Tepper.

However, these specific nineteen minutes are those that a teenage boy spends shooting his classmates, an idea which has roots in real life and has been explored in other books such as Lionel Shriver's We Need to Talk About Kevin. Picoult has used complex links between the characters in order to explore the childhood and origins of those people involved, in order to establish how someone could reach that state. Specifically, the daughter of the judge assigned to the trial is a classmate of the shooter, and his mother was her mother's midwife, meaning that, in a not entirely dissimilar way to Sara's role in Picoult's other work, My Sister's Keeper, flashbacks on the part of the mother enables the history to be explained.

Unlike in My Sister's Keeper, or many of Picoult's other novels the book is written in third person, rather than having different parts of the story told in first person by different characters. This does allow more viewpoints to be heard, and, surprisingly, doesn't hinder the ability to get inside a characters head as one might expect it would. At times, though, it seems like the sheer amount of character's might overwhelm the reader, but, as always, Picoult manages to hold the threads of the story together with consummate skill, and the ending is fresh, intriguing, and, despite the element of mystery, falls into place perfectly.

Many of Picoult's books focus on the way the world can change in just a moment, with the majority of mystery of the book being how, why and what happened in that moment. Surprisingly, this novel doesn't focus on what happened during those specific nineteen minutes; instead it focuses on the years which built up to them.

A major theme in the book is that of bullying, and there's a very powerful scene where one of the bullies in question is put on the witness stand. He defends himself by claiming that his actions were "just a joke". The defence lawyer – Jordan McAfee, a recurring character who also defended Jack St Bride in Salem Falls – then questions him about specific events that happened over the years, ending each time with the question "so that was just a joke?"

It's the kind of scene any victim of bullying would love to see; their tormentor put on the stand and forced to answer for their actions. And it has an interesting effect. Although throughout the novel, the reader knows that the shooter is in the wrong, that killing a number of people is wrong, at this point it becomes clear that he isn't a monster. His peers, his classmates, and everyone who looked the other way are, because of their actions over the years, in no way on the moral high ground. Although he's in the wrong, the reader sympathises with and likes the character a lot better than they do his rather lacklustre peers, and those who let him down over the years.

A number of comparisons can be drawn between this novel and that of Salem Falls, mostly due to the sheer unfairness of the way the defendant is treated and viewed within the small community in which he lives. This book doesn't elicit the same sympathy for the victim as Salem Falls did – I caught myself checking the ending of that novel, something I never do, just to check that everything worked out okay – but it's not entirely dissimilar.

In summary, the novel is a fascinating look at what can drive someone to such an extreme action, and manages to elicit sympathy for someone who commits a crime many people would consider monstrous. The victim culture and the underlying theme of the effects that bullying can have on someone is very well thought out and adds a lot of depth to the novel. Unfortunately, Picoult's portrayal of Peter, one of the main characters, as a very stereotypical "computer nerd" is one of the things I didn't enjoy about the novel. It's extremely clichéd, and considering Picoult's disparaging comments about Wonder Woman fans as "really scary people who live in their parents' basement" and the heat she took over the remark, you think she would have thought twice of using such an outdated concept.

Still, that tiny element is not enough to detract from my enjoyment of the novel as a whole, and I don't think any fans will be disappointed by this latest work.

In Which We Discuss My Sister's Keeper

Yet another repost. There'll be an explanatory post once I'm fully updated.

When Kate Fitzgerald was diagnosed with acute promyelocytic leukemia at the age of two, her family's life was turned upside down. While her father, Brian concentrates on holding the family together, as well as his job, as a firefighter, and his hobby, astronomy, her mother, Sara becomes almost obsessed with Kate's health.

When Kate's elder brother Jesse is found not to be a suitable match, Sara almost gives up hope. That is, until a doctor says that another sibling might be a better match; as Sara observes, he's referring to a child she never had and didn't plan for. In light of the new events, Sara and Brian do plan a child; plan harder than ever before, in fact, as they genetically engineer their third child to be a perfect match for Kate, with the objective of her performing as a donor for her sister.

At first, all that is required from Anna (Andromeda, named by her father, after the constellation which is known as the chained maiden in English) is stem cells from her umbilical cord. Until, that is, Kate relapses.

From that point on, both Anna and Kate are constantly in and out of hospital. As Anna observes, she herself is not sick, but she might as well be. Kate needs blood and bone marrow, and although, as Anna observes, she never gave her permission as she was never actually asked for it, she goes along with these procedures. Until, at the age of sixteen (Anna is thirteen) Kate's kidneys start to fail, and Anna is expected to donate one of hers.

Kidney donation is a relatively simple procedure. Compared to, for instance, open-heart surgery. You're given anesthesia (something that has been given to Anna in order to help Kate many times), the risks of which include strokes, heart attacks and lung problems. As for the actual operation, there's a one in three thousand chance of dying on the operating table. Afterwards, you are hospitalized for four to seven days, although it actually takes more like six weeks to recover. And the long term risks include a increased chance of high blood pressure, a risk of complications with pregnancy, and the need to refrain from activities which could damage the remaining kidney.

It is this which triggers Anna's decision to sue her parents for medical emancipation. In short, for the rights to her own body.

Certain that no court in the world would force Anna to give up her kidney, and that her parents will fold before it even goes to trial, the lawyer she approaches, Campbell Alexander, agrees to take on the case, in exchange for Anna's polishing the doorknobs in his office, since she is unable to pay.

However, Sara is unable to even consider giving up this, which may be Kate's last chance, and as a former lawyer, decides to represent herself in court.

The story is told in chapters told through the first-person view of various characters; Anna, Jesse, Sara, and Brian Fitzgerald, Campbell Alexander, and Julia Romano. Interestingly, Kate is the one character whose opinion isn't shown, despite her being the central figure of the novel.

The Fitzgerald family are all, for want of a better phrase, fucked up. Sara is obsessed with keeping her family whole to the extent that she no longer cares if they're happy. Her response to any of Anna or Jesse's problems is, essentially, "Kate has cancer, isn't that more important?" Sometimes, yes, but not collectively, not every single time.

I'm afraid that I didn't find Sara Fitzgerald a very sympathetic character. I'm not sure if I'd feel differently if I were a mother myself, but I can't empathize with he point of view. Her conviction, that she knows best for everyone, is irritating, and somewhat selfish. I'm not sure if it's any less selfish that the 'self' she is centred on is, in fact, her daughter. Still, all in all, I didn't find her an entirely likable character.

Brian, the father of the family is a firefighter. Most of his sections explore his obsession with fire, and the ways in which his seeking to control it is symbolic of his relationship with his family. He seeks to control fire because it's something he can control, almost like an anorexia victim's attitude to food.

His son, Jesse has a similar reaction. Yet, instead of seeking to control fire he uses it as a method of destruction. He's eighteen years old, and has, for several years, been living in an apartment over the garage, apart from the family, although he does still eat with them. He observes himself that Kate's illness has turned him into a rebel, but doesn't seek to change the status quo so dramatically as Anna does. Nonetheless, he supports her in it.

Anna is completely torn. More than anything, she does not want to give her sister her kidney, for many reasons, more of which are revealed as the book goes on. However, Kate is her best friend; neither of them have been healthy long enough to become close to other people, especially since girls their own age tend to be a little afraid of Kate's illness. She also has to live with her family, despite everything. Most of all, though, it's her relationship with Sara that changes.

Although Brian understands their youngest daughter's feelings, Sara is fixated on curing Kate, and is convinced that Anna is only trying to get some attention. Mother and daughter are unable to understand each others point of view; but Sara is still Anna's mommy, and the confusion and lack of black and white areas apparent in the relationship and decisions made are described wonderfully.

Then there's Campbell Alexander, the lawyer. At first, he's sure that it will be an simple case, and that a decision will be reached before it even gets to court. He soon realises that it's not that easy. As Campbell gets to know Anna and her family better, more of his own life is revealed. Campbell's a tricky character, who hates being tied down. Although he owns a service dog (named Judge - as he explains, what lawyer wouldn't want to put a Judge in a cage every so often?), every single explanation he gives for it is different. The situation is even more complicated by the fact that it's a small town, and everybody knows everybody. The judge assigned to the case is one who has known the Fitzgeralds, and Campbell for years. Even worse, the guardian ad litem assigned to Anna is Julia Romano, Campbell's ex-girlfriend.

Julia's job as a GAL is to look out for Anna's best interests, since she's a minor filing a case against her family. She's also someone who gets close to Anna, since younger people can sometimes have trouble expressing themselves, and, in Anna's case, resisting the pressure of her mothers wishes. In other words, it seems that she's mostly there to describe how Anna and the others come across, since that's not shown during during individual chapters. Her relationship and various problems with Campbell also form a sub-plot, which doesn't really impinge on the main story.

Picoult's writing style is absorbing, and her dialogue is snappy. The characters all have their own personalities and relationships with each other. Although the use of various characters to tell different parts of the story can be tricky to pull off, each of Picoult's characters has such a unique voice that the reader is rarely confused (unlike, for instance, Gregory Maguire's Mirror, which used a similar technique rather less successfully).

The portrayal of a family, and the complicated relationships and feelings between them is accurate and true to life. Although Anna doesn't want to be a donor all her life, and she wants to feel like more than spare parts for Kate, her desire for this is a betrayal for the mother and sister she both loves and hates. The books opens with the sentence; In my first memory, I am three years old, and I am trying to kill my sister. It then continues with; As we got older, I didn't seem to exist, except in relation to her.

It's true that love and hate are very closely tied together, and the relationship between Anna and Kate is one of the best examples in modern fiction of such a relationship.

In summary, this book is moving, and deals well with a difficult issue. It's a fairly good length, and keeps you gripped until the ending. The differing opinions in the book are well presented, and can often be empathized with even if they are not fully agreed with.

The only fault I can find is with the ending, which seems rather too neat. However, the use of Kate's silence is a nice touch throughout the novel, and Picoult's use of dramatic tension is spell-binding.