SeaKat’s CBR5 Review #10 The Twelfth Enchantment by David Liss

Book review 3“So you’ve got this Regency-era heroine, some kind of minor gentry – total Jane Austen, right? And, now here’s the hook: there’s a WHOLE magical world that she doesn’t even know about, but her magical powers are the key to saving all of England! It’s Pride and Prejudice meets Harry Potter!”

It sounds like a parody of a film pitch—take two vastly different concepts and mash them together, hoping to somehow come up with a winner. But in the case of The Twelfth Enchantment by David Liss, IT TOTALLY WORKS.

The Twelfth Enchantment is the story of Lucy Derrick, an orphaned gentlewoman living in her uncle’s home on sufferance. After an aborted elopement in her youth, Lucy’s marital prospects are slim. When the cold but prosperous local mill owner courts her, Lucy’s uncle makes it clear that she will be forced to accept that joyless marriage. After a series of strange occurrences, including the appearance of a cursed Lord Byron, Lucy learns that the world—and even her own personal history—are not be as she has always assumed. And her choices are deeply important to several powerful occult beings and, in fact, to the future of all of England.

Liss is a talented author and his ability to evoke the tone and time of Jane Austen while writing a story that is so far removed from anything Austen would have considered is impressive. There were moments (especially in the beginning of the book, before all of the magical happenings) that I forgot I wasn’t reading a book written by Austen herself! This is no tongue-in-cheek parody a la Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters, but an impressive nod to Austen’s classic heroines.

The fantasy world is compelling and Lucy’s reaction to it is believable. While the primary villain was obvious from early on, Liss kept me guessing as to whom Lucy should trust. This was an effective device, as Lucy herself isn’t sure who can be relied upon and who is using her for their own ends. As such, my sympathy for and sense of connection with her character remained strong throughout the book. I was definitely rooting for a happy ending for not just Lucy, but her sister and niece as well. The inclusion of several historical personages (Lord Byron and William Blake and even the Prince Regent himself) were fun, although I suppose others may find them unnecessary or even distracting.

All told, I would highly recommend this book to anyone that enjoys both Austen and fantasy. And Iwill definitely be seeking out other books by Liss for myself.

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SeaKat’s CBR5 Review #7 Breathers: A Zombie’s Lament by S.G. Browne

Breathers

Breathers opens with the undead narrator’s discovery that he has killed and dismembered his parents, storing various parts neatly in the freezer/refrigerator. So I didn’t expect to find myself sympathizing with the zombie by the end of the book. And yet, I did. Breathers: A Zombie’s Lament, by S.G. Browne is described on the cover as a romantic zombie comedy (or rom-zom-com) and while I wouldn’t say it was terribly successful as a comedy, it was an interesting and rewarding read.

Andy, the zombie narrator, is a recently reanimated zombie. No one in his life is very happy about his unexpected return from the dead—most especially Andy. He is living in his affluent parents’ wine cellar and spends his days watching terrible television, drinking his parents’ wine (which he can barely taste) and Undead Anonymous (UA) meetings just to have a place to go. Andy can’t talk, thanks to a combination of damage from the car accident that killed him and the fact that the embalmer sewed his mouth shut, so he communicates through grunts and notes on a dry erase board. He misses his late wife (killed in the same car accident) and his young daughter (who was sent to family in another town and was not informed of Andy’s reanimation) but is growing increasingly attracted to a sexy young zombie in his UA group, Rita. A chance encounter with a renegade zombie living “off the grid” helps Andy to find his purpose as a zombie and he begins fight back at the society that has literally thrown people like him away. He also begins a relationship with Rita, finding unexpected love after death. Of course, as one might expect in a zombie novel, the course of true love runs anything but smooth.

Breathers works best as an imaginative piece of genre-adjacent fiction. I call it genre-adjacent because it certainly isn’t pure horror or apocalyptic fiction, and the perspective switch from human to zombie takes it outside the realm of standard zombie stories (at least the few that I’ve read – maybe there’s a whole sub-genre of sympathetic zombie protagonists out there but this was a first to me.) Because Andy can’t speak, the entire first half or so of the book is Andy reacting silently to the world around him. This certainly brought me close to Andy and allowed me to understand his sense of hopelessness and frustration. But it created that frustration in me as well.  I wanted Andy to be a greater participant in his unlife rather than simply observing and mentally reacting. That may have been intentional and thematic, but it certainly diminished the “comedy” aspect of the book, for me.

Browne’s take on how society would react to the awareness of zombies feels spot-on. Zombies are reviled, used as crash test dummies, or sold as medical testing subjects when no next-of-kin is available or willing to take on responsibility for them. Even walking (shambling) down the street is risky for the zombies, as passers-by pelt them with garbage and insults. After dark, it’s even worse, with frat boys attacking and taking souvenir body parts on a depressingly regular basis. The zombies have no protection and no rights. Even simple existence is on sufferance.

Andy’s relationship with his parents reflects this mindset. His mother’s fluttering attempts to continue to support and nurture him war with her innate disgust and embarrassment at having a zombie son. His father’s vocal contempt and increasing resentment of Andy’s state grow in pace with Andy’s refusal to hide away from the world. In some ways, it reminded me of how I’ve seen some families deal with family members suffering from mental illness/addiction: the shame, the helpless longing for a more normal life, the anger disguised as “tough love.” Again, it was very well done but very sad despite the absurdist comedy touches. By the time the book catches up to its grisly opening, I was relatively on-board with the whole parent-killing-and-preserving thing. (Mostly just the dad. Man, what a jackass.)

Andy’s relationship with Rita and all of the UA members were much more rewarding and entertaining, and the source of much of the comedy. From Jerry, the Playboy-loving zombie who invited people to touch his uncovered brains, to lipstick and nail polish-eating Rita (she needs the formaldehyde to keep from decomposing), Browne does a great job of moving the action along while crafting memorable, believable characters. And I’m talking about zombies here, so that’s impressive.

Overall, Breathers has a number of sardonic moments and even some laugh-out-loud funny ones. As a work of imaginative fiction, it works very well, but its overall melancholy tone and tragic moments are at odds with its marketing as a light-hearted comedy. That said, I would absolutely recommend it, just with the warning that—much like Andy and his zombie compatriots—what you’ll find inside is very different from what the exterior  may lead you to believe.

SeaKat’s CBR5 Review #6 The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

ImageThe Night Circus is one of those books that suddenly seemed to be everywhere: promoted in book stores, offered for special pricing on my Kindle, and gripped in people’s hands as they waited somewhere or other. So it had been on my radar for a while when I found a hardcover copy of the book at a used book sale. $1 seemed like a pretty good investment to see what the hype was about.

The Night Circus is the story of a travelling circus that operates as the scene for an ongoing duel between two magicians, Celia and Marco. Both magicians were bound to the duel as children by their shadowy guardians and the duel has no defined rules other than “keep performing.”  The circus attracts a passionate following of “reveurs,” as the circus’ most devoted fans call themselves. But as the duel goes on, Marco and Celia fall in love and seek a way for both the circus and their forbidden love to survive.

I’m somewhat torn on how to rate this one because it is amazingly good in some ways but really disappointing in others. First the good:  Morgenstern has an incredible way with imagery, allowing me to vividly “see” the circus in my mind. And not just see, but smell, taste, and hear it too. She truly has a gift for descriptive writing and the magical circus comes alive at her hands.

Another aspect of the book that deserves special mention is the design of the book. My copy (a Costco purchase, according to a sticker on the dust jacket) had lovely black and white flourishes, including tent-striped endpapers, section breaks with a quote on one side and the image of constellations in a night sky on the other, and delicate, Victorian-feeling motifs alongside each page number. These artistic touches really added to the experience of reading the book as an Event of some sort, rather than just another book. It makes sense that Morgenstern is not only a writer, but also a multimedia artist, according to her bio.

The plot itself is middling. The book starts out as the two magicians come into their overseers’ clutches (yes, this story of orphans committed to and trained for a magic duel warrants the use of such a melodramatic word!) and gains momentum rapidly as the circus becomes real. The best parts of the book, in my opinion, are the scenes in which Morgenstern allows the reader to experience through the eyes (and ears, etc.) of different people: performers, guests, and reveurs. This part is like a dream: meandering, confusing, but vivid and beautiful and utterly fascinating. As the book continues the details begin to overwhelm, the changes of point of view and the breaks to experience one magical event after another, it all becomes unwieldy and tiresome to keep straight. Not unlike the job of keeping the circus itself running, I must note, so perhaps this was intentional. But it still negatively affected my enjoyment as I continued reading the book.

Where the story faltered the worst, in my opinion, was in the characterization. In contrast to the fully-realized circus, most of the characters themselves were flat and lifeless. There were a few exceptions: Herr Frederick Theissen, the clockmaker who establishes (and comes up with the name for) the reveurs, Widget and Poppet, the twins born at the circus, and to a lesser extent, Bailey, a young farm boy who becomes a reveur and then much more. Morgenstern imbued these characters with a sense of self and personality and I really cared about what happened to them. But the majority of the book’s population did not fare as well. Celia and Marco, the dueling magicians and the protagonists of the story, were the biggest problem. I didn’t particularly feel like I knew them, and as a result I didn’t care about them. And I really didn’t care about their love. Given that their struggle to end the duel without either dying or killing the circus was the climax of the plot…that was a problem.

Overall, I give the book three stars. It was a worthwhile read due to Morgenstern’s deft touch with the circus and its dreamy imagery. I suppose the sense of let-down comes from realizing how much more the book could have been.