The Fiery Cross

Without his glasses, my significant other saw this book on my bedside table and mistook it for a box. It is 1443 pages long (which in my mind is a number that signifies a year, not a page count) and its spine is practically the same size as my palm... yet one can read it with surprising speed. The Fiery Cross is Diana Gabaldon's fifth installment in her Outlander series, following the characters we've come to know and love... through a surprisingly small scope of location and time. It feels a bit odd, really, to not be jumping about time and space -- everything occurs within two years and all of it is within the boundaries of the colony of South Carolina. We've got a few years before the official start of the American Revolution and while most colonists might be aware of some discontent that's brewing over taxes, only our small knot of characters know for sure that it's all about to come to a head... mostly because three out of four of them lived in the 1900s and therefore read about all of this in their history books.

The book opens right where we left off -- at the end of the Scottish clan Gathering that's drawn Scots from across this particular swath of the colonies. We had just kicked off this Gathering at the end of the fourth book, but now we're wrapping it up with two very important weddings... though only one actually takes place and the other is postponed. Gabaldon must enjoy weddings, because there are two in this book and the events of both days seem to take forever. Granted, all kinds of things are happening and the services themselves are quite quick, but I suppose she certainly takes advantage of the fact that several people are gathered in one place. At this first one, Jamie manages to get his grandchildren (broadly inclusive of Fergus's kids along with Brianna's) baptized by a priest (even though the priest has been arrested) and then Roger and Brianna finally manage to officially tie the knot (though this one's not sanctioned by a Catholic priest, much to Jamie's dismay). The wedding of Duncan and Jocasta is postponed and so instead, we move straight from wedding to war. Well, perhaps "war" is a bit much, but certainly the preparation for battle. Jamie has been commissioned to recruit and head up a militia of men from his area and report to the governor to help in the quelling of some Regulators. He's well aware that his wife and daughter have informed him of the outcome of this impending war. As a Scotsman, there's no love lost between him and the English crown, so it's not like he feels he must be loyal to a king that killed a great number of his countrymen, but Jamie is smart enough to realize that it's too soon to start arguing and it's better to endure for a little while. The first mustering of troops ends without a fight, but by the middle of the book, we find ourselves in a battle with huge implications for the Fraser/MacKenzie clan if not for the larger colonial conflicts. Other storylines at play in this particular volume include the ongoing search to find and kill Stephen Bonnet, the smuggler who raped Brianna and possibly fathered her child (even if Roger accepts Jemmy as his own son); continued relations with the nearby Indians who look upon Jamie as a great bear hunter; the question of whether the goods of River Run are the only wealth to be guarded or if there's another golden treasure within its bounds; and Claire's attempts to introduce twentieth century medical practices into the eighteenth century (or at least not get caught performing an autopsy and produce a penicillin specimen that the housekeeper doesn't toss into the garbage).

If you're unwilling to have anything spoiled, I suggest you stop reading now, even if I only pick out a few key points to discuss.

Perhaps the most shocking moment of the book takes place after the battle of Alamance when Roger is executed by the Governor. Roger, having gone to the Regulators in an attempt to get them to stand down, does a completely stupid thing when he spots his his many-times great-grandmother on the Regulator's side of things; he tells her to get her family out while she can... and then he kisses her in farewell, thus provoking the wrath of his many-times over great-grandfather. William MacKenzie is a right terrible bastard who beats Roger senseless and then hands him over to be hanged as a Regulator ringleader (and Roger is not quite conscious enough to realize what's going on). The surprising thing is not this twist (because Gabaldon certainly knows how to create drama), but that the execution actually goes through! Instead of dying at the end of the hangman's rope, though, Roger somehow survives -- when Jamie and Brianna make to cut him down, they hear him moan and Claire springs into action. As a result of the hanging, his throat is crushed... making it impossible for him to ever sing with the beauty he once did, and indeed, it's feared that he may never even speak again (though he does, with considerable effort). Terrible and heartbreaking as the loss of his beautiful singing voice might be (and indeed, for a while Roger's spirit appears to have been crushed along with his larynx), the whole surviving a hanging thing seems a bit much, eh? He had been hanging there for nearly an hour! And survived! Surely Gabaldon found some instance of this miracle in reality (the detail about the new rope not having any give is too specific a detail for it to not be true) and so brought it to play here, but I hope you understand me when I say that even though this is a novel, this miracle seems a bit too fantastic a thing to happen in a fiction if said fiction wants to be taken "seriously." I write this and then realize that this series is based on the premise that time travel is possible within stone circles, but in fairness, Gabaldon is very dedicated to the historical reality of her settings. She goes to great lengths to impress upon us just how dangerous a time it is, serendipitous events aside (because really, it's a novel, and we all come to accept the moments where a hero arrives just in time or the bullet is stopped by something in a character's pocket). I thought that Gabaldon was pushing it in book three when Jamie was shot in the head and yet the bullet simply went under his scalp because his skull is so thick. But hanging by the neck for an hour and surviving? It's ridiculous! I'm not saying that I want Roger dead, but we've seen a moment like this with Roger before now (two if you count his botched attempt at time travel through the stones), when Jamie nearly killed him in book three. Jamie stopped himself from killing him, but this time, Roger is simply cheating death and if Gabaldon does one more thing to Roger like this and lets him survive, then I'll lose respect in her storytelling skills. Three strikes and you're out, sir. Even if it was tragic that he loses that gift of singing, I would have been impressed with Gabaldon for actually going through with the death of a main character. I often wonder if she isn't simply populating Fraser's Ridge with people who will soon be casualties of war so that our main characters might survive and yet there will be sufficient depictions of carnage.

All that said, I realize my particular ire is brought about by the fact that it's Roger who's been cheating death. When Jamie survives near-misses, I'm not nearly as surprised. But then, this is Jamie's time and place. He's a soldier who's made a life of surviving and is capable of dealing with any number of attacks. He's a much more physical being than Roger, the former Oxford University history professor who has poor vision and approximately zero hunting and shooting skills. At least Bree knows how to ride a horse and shoot a gun (which was a very interesting point, if indeed Frank taught his daughter those things because he knew she would go back). I rather think that at this point, even Roger's surprised that he's still alive. The only thing keeping him alive is luck and, well, the grace of Gabaldon. Clearly he has a larger destiny to fulfill in this epic story.

This book more than any other carries a significant number of small details that I really enjoyed. Roger spying on Claire and Jamie, intent on learning how one maintained a marriage with such a level of passion and love. Brianna writing down dreams in a journal. Claire's foolish pleasure at knowing that men beyond her husband can find her attractive, even if it causes a bit of trouble. Jamie's jealousy over an unknown man bedding a wife he's divorced. One of the particular details that I liked in this book was the acknowledgment of the impulse to speak about things that are not part of the eighteenth century, and yet Brianna and Roger still have those memories of them. The wind in one's hair while driving, the cool taste of Coke, the urge to sing a Beatles song. The last, in particular, would surely get me in trouble, particularly when it comes to singing a child to sleep. They might get by with "Darlin' Clementine," but the songs that I'd feel the need to croon would all carry questions and implications of another time. (And a life without the ability to make pasta? Who am I kidding, I'd be dead quicker than Roger.) A detail I did not like: there was a horrid moment where she started writing in dispatches or diary entries from the governor and they were terribly dry and annoying. Thankfully, even she must have grown tired of them. And speaking of things we're getting tired of, sooner or later, we'll have to figure out if Jemmy is the biological son of Bonnet or Roger. It's a lovely sentiment that Roger doesn't care because Jemmy is his son no matter what, but we all know that sooner or later, blood will out. At least we can content ourselves with Brianna exacting a bit of revenge on Bonnet. It really would be nice if she was the one to dispose of him in the end, rather than the menfolk.

Once again, Gabaldon has created an incredibly compelling book and while things necessarily get convoluted with an ever-growing cast of characters, if you've been a fan so far, you'll continue to enjoy it. Even if Jamie and Claire have to give way to the concerns of Brianna and Roger, they still are firmly settled at the core of the novel. (Indeed, the closing sentiment of Jamie's actually made me tear up a bit as the rest of the book had not done.) If only all couples could age and grow with such wonderful assurance that their life and home was rooted in the other person. So on to book six, where we're sure to further entangle ourselves in the impending war... and there's that newspaper clipping that Roger found that announces Jamie and Claire's deaths. I certainly hope we get to part of it at least, because I'm not sure I can take much more of the lead-up without actually sinking our teeth into it. I'm stubbornly refusing to read the summaries of the books at this point; I know I'll keep reading so I'd rather be swept along and surprised. I'm not sure I would have said this somewhere around book three, when I was annoyed that the series had not yet wrapped up, but Ms. Gabaldon, please keep them coming!

Drums of Autumn

Drums of Autumn is the fourth book in Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series. By this point, I wonder if there's a reason to write a true review of the fourth book in a series of thousand-page books. After all, no one's glancing at reviews to say, "I suppose I'll just dive in here and not read the first three, shall I?" People who make it through thousand-page books of historical fiction don't tend to jump around in a series, right? If you do, then stop it this instant.

What I mean is that I feel like I'm not trying to sell anyone on these books by this time. You're either hooked or you're not, so a review becomes unnecessary... unless it's something intended to whet the appetites of expectant readers prior to the book's release? Or sway someone who once liked the books and then was disappointed? Well, rather than write a real review, I'm opting for a plot summary and then something that's more of a discussion of certain points. My assumption is that if you're reading this review, you've already read the book and might simply want to chat about it with someone. Or you're a friend who feels obliged to read my reviews because you love me or at least find me amusing from time to time... in which case, I apologize for the fact that this is the fourth book in this series that I've read about Scottish Highlanders, time travel, adventure and romance. This'll teach you for saying you always read my reviews.

In Voyager, Claire and Jamie Fraser were reunited after twenty years (or two hundred years, depends how you look at it) of separation and now they're together for good (most likely). While rescuing Jamie's nephew Ian from pirates, they crossed the Atlantic to the Caribbean Islands and not only found Ian, but Claire ended up killing fellow time-traveler/accused witch, Gellis Duncan. Now Jamie and Claire (and everyone else they have in tow) are in the American colonies, trying to figure out just what to do with themselves. Settle down? Continue to travel? Return to Scotland? Claire's a bit terrified about that gravestone in Scotland with Jamie's name on it, but perhaps that's not the best indicator as to where their fate may lie.

Rather than simply stay with Claire and Jamie in the eighteenth century, this book dips back to also pick up the "modern" time. Brianna (Jamie and Claire's daughter) and Roger (descendant of Jamie's uncle Dougal and the witch Gellis) might be mad for each other, but Roger is fairly insistent that if Brianna wants him, it has to be for life... and that means marriage. Brianna was a bit concerned about promising such a thing when they have years of obligations between them (her school, his work) and puts things off, thus keeping them on separate continents. So when Roger realizes that Brianna has gone missing (apparently leaving for Scotland without telling him), he no longer has any idea if Brianna wants him or not, as she's clearly gone into the stones to find her mother. Roger had failed to tell Brianna about a notice he found in a Colonial paper that announced the deaths of Jamie and Claire in 1776, so he knows that Brianna will eventually be headed to the Colonies once she finds out where they've gone. Thus, Roger dives into the stones to find Brianna, uncertain if she wants to be found and uncertain if they'll be able to make it back.

So from this point on, I'll be bringing up some discussion points... which means there are spoilers. Just FYI.

I suppose I see why it had to be America, given the time period, but I will, indeed, miss Scotland. After internal debate and external discussion, Jamie and Claire decide to take the governor up on his offer and settle in the Carolinas, attempting to build up a home for themselves and the opportunity for others to settle. It is, indeed, as though Jamie is creating his own lairdship here in the Americas, except he's insistent that it's not the same. There may not be generations backing up his claim, but Jamie is enough of a leader to command the same amount of allegiance. I suppose if need the drama, then at least we have the same structure we're used to... and we're not creating an isolated settlement where it's just a handful of people. (Of course, the pessimist in me believes that we're simply building up a good amount of characters so we can kill them off soon enough once we hit the Revolutionary War). In this book, there was the tempting offer of Jamie taking up the management of River Run, his aunt Jocasta's plantation, but here I appreciated the fact that Gabaldon knows her characters well (I suppose she ought to by now). Jocasta is quite a strong-willed character and Jamie would have to do things her way... and he's not one to take orders. Better to have him establish something that's his own... and allow us the historical glimpse into everything it takes to set up a settlement.

One thing that I found to be a trifle irritating in this particular book is a trick that Gabaldon uses more often in this volume than in any other (aside from the fact that this was the whole structure of book two) -- she takes us right up to a scene that should be quite important... and then skips forward in time, only to return to this scene much later. I understand there's a desire to spread out the tension and her story structure rested on the need for us to not know the truth of things until it was necessary, but the repeated use of this was the really annoying bit. The two big examples of this are when Bree gets raped by Bonnet and when Jamie potentially kills Roger. (Side note: I'm nearly done with book five by the time I write this review and I have to say that poor Rogers gets the short end of the stick for quite a while to come.) By not coming out with information at the get-go, confusion is caused, and that's important for Gabaldon's storytelling structure. We need to not know if Bree slept with Bonnet, yet know that Lizzie suspects Roger of raping Bree. We need to not know if Jamie has killed Roger. We need the miscommunication (or lack of communication) for her story to do what she wants it to do... it's just that it gets to be a bit wearisome when everything in a thousand page book is based on this story structure. And it also tends to suggest that if Gabaldon can't jump between two centuries, then I suppose we can hardly stop her when she feels the itch to jump between a matter of days or months.

By virtue of shifting the stories to focus a bit more on the drama between Roger and Bree (young and at the start of their romance), we do move away from Jamie and Claire, but only a bit. We have to give way a little, I suppose, or else the book would be even longer, but at least Gabaldon doesn't feel the need to focus on them entirely. After all, Jamie and Claire already have our hearts. Roger and Bree are good enough, but don't quite have the pull of Jamie and Claire. Perhaps it's to do with the fact that their romance doesn't have the same epic feel to it. Perhaps it's that neither one of them are as charismatic as Jamie or Claire. I often find myself frustrated on their behalves, for neither of them were born to the eighteenth century and so they both seem to be fish out of water, whereas at least Claire has Jamie... and her own practical focus that allows her to settle into this world without much fuss. There's also a sense of the tragic with them by the end of the book -- Bree pregnant and uncertain as to who could be the father; Roger bought back from the Indians at the expense of sacrificing young Ian; both Bree and Roger now stuck in the eighteenth century, for Bree won't leave Jemmy and Roger won't leave Bree.

When it comes to villains, I suppose no one should have worried about a lack of them in the New World. Gabaldon does have a tendency to come up with some truly depraved folks. First it was Jonathan "Black Jack" Randall, who might be Frank Randall's ancestor and yet was a truly wicked sadist, consumed by his obsession for dominating Jamie. Then we had Gellie Duncan, who seemed to rise from the dead so that she might debauch and kill young boys in her witchy attempts to return to her own time. Now we have Stephen Bonnet, an Irish smuggler who repaid the Frasers kindness with robbery and then raped their daughter, potentially impregnating her. Of course, all of Gabaldon's villains seem to have another side to them (certainly Randall seemed all but forgiven in his grief-stricken descent) and the same is true of Bonnet, though not quite to the same degree -- yet. Bonnet actually does drag John Grey's body to safety from the fire that his associates set (even if it's at Bree's insistence)... and gives Bree the black diamond for the child's keeping. Of course, this can only end badly, as this all but assured that Bonnet will try to return for the child, who he believes to be his son. He'll have to end up dead in the end if Bree, Roger, and Jemmy are to remain an intact family.

In the meantime, even if I wasn't always delighted with this novel, I'm well aware that I've fallen under Gabaldon's spell and will continue to devour her novels. I might need a break soon, though, and I'm a bit surprised I haven't overdosed already. That's testament to an excellent storyteller, I suppose.

Voyager

Voyager is the third installment in Diana Gabaldon's epic series about the Scottish Highlands, love, and time travel. If you've made it so far that you're contemplating the third book, I'll stop making jokes and excuses about how that all sounds to summarize. Clearly, you're as taken with them as I am as a means of fun escapist literature with some great historical detail tossed in. Warning: I certainly won't spoil the ending of this book in this review, but I will for its predecessor, Dragonfly in Amber, so be careful there.

Years may have passed between the close of Outlander and the open of Dragonfly in Amber, but there's no such gap here (well, aside from that approximately two hundred year gap that separates the "modern" storyline and the historical one). We pick up both stories right where we left them -- that is, in 1968 and 1746, respectively. In 1746, Jamie Fraser had just killed his uncle and knew that between having to answer for such an act and the approaching battle of Culloden, there was no way he would survive to protect his wife and their unborn child. So he pushed Claire though the stones at Craigh na Dun so she might find safety in her own time (which is to say, 1948), and she believed that he met his death shortly thereafter. She returned, gave birth to a daughter named Brianna, and remained married to Frank Randall, despite some obvious issues on both sides. He refused to leave a woman in her condition and ultimately stayed because he loved Bree. When Claire returned to Scotland in 1968, she was intent on telling Brianna about her real father, which all came tumbling out to both Bree and their friend, Roger Wakefield. Roger then found evidence to suggest that Jamie survived. Thus ended book two. Book three opens with Jamie, alive despite all the odds, and Claire shocked to the core by Roger's news. She had been in her own time for twenty years. If Jamie also survived twenty years beyond Culloden, then there's the possibility that Claire might be able to go back through the stones to continue her life with him, albeit with twenty years of time passing. But really, when you're talking about your lover who exists 198 years in the past, what's two decades?

So Claire must decide if she can leave the modern world and her daughter to return to eighteenth century Scotland and the greatest love she's ever known. With Bree's blessing, no one should be surprised that Claire takes the chance and does go back to find Jamie. Of course, twenty years is a considerable amount of time to have passed, with both living their lives as though they'd never see the other again. Claire has time to prepare for their reunion, but Jamie is shocked when she suddenly appears. He's desperately in love with her still, of course (it is a romance, after all), but much has changed in Jamie's life, too. It won't be easy for Claire to simply come back from the dead and it will be a heck of a thing to explain to everyone else in Jamie's family.

I won't go into too much detail on that, but suffice to say that there are an abundant amount of complications as Claire learns more about Jamie's life since Culloden. (It's kind of a shame, I think, that Claire's advanced to become a real doctor in her modern time, raised a child, and done any number of things, but naturally it's not quite so adventurous and story-worthy as Jamie's existence. Is it because we don't see the modern age as being dramatic? Because we're more aligned with Claire and therefore more concerned about Jamie's existence? Or because it's historical fiction and the readers and author are more concerned with time as it was as opposed to time now?) The book does go beyond the implications of her return (though they are substantial) and believe it or not, Claire & Jamie eventually strike out for the New World, chasing young Ian (son of Jenny and Ian Murray) after he's kidnapped by pirates. (The clue that this was coming rested in Claire's modern life and a scene featuring a bodice-ripping romance novel with a pirate theme.) Of course, Claire's seen Jamie's gravestone in Scotland, so she believes that they must eventually make it back, but for now it's high seas adventure and discovery of Caribbean islands.

A few points, now that I've read about three thousand pages worth of this Claire/Jamie romance. I feel like I can make bigger comments about the series as opposed to just the books on their own. During the first book, Jamie joked with Claire that he was tired of men trying to rape her and make him watch. During this book, I kind of got tired of every homosexual man trying to have sex with Jamie. I mean seriously, every single one?? The man might be handsome, sure, but enough is enough. At least in this one we get a fellow who isn't depraved like Jonathan "Black Jack" Randall. Speaking of Jonathan, I was a little surprised how he gets so easily dismissed at the beginning, a victim of Culloden and that's that? He was positively evil in the first book and then in the second, Jamie somehow manages to refrain from killing him... and even seems to be sympathetic when Alexander Randall dies and Jonathan goes to pieces. Perhaps this is more an issue that I have with the second book, but I at least hoped for some comeuppance in this one. There's also this issue I have with Claire and Jamie always being able to find each other to the point where even Gabaldon seemed to move quickly through a reunion after Claire is kidnapped and then escapes and finds her way across Caribbean islands to pop up at Jamie's back. Ah well. It's things like this that make me realize there's a charm some writers can cast once they've made it through a significant number of books about characters -- their fans are already sold on everything and as long as you still maintain a decent degree of quality, they'll probably keep reading. Still, I hope we don't see a decline in future books to where she takes this for granted. It doesn't feel as through she would, but even so.

An amusing (albeit easy) thing that Gabaldon does in this book that I haven't much seen before is her having a sense of humor and making a few self-referential jokes. Both Claire and Jamie read some romance novels with some steamy scenes that go far beyond anything Gabaldon does (which is why her books can still claim space in fiction as opposed to romance). There's also a joke about epic novels and how one can manage to read all those pages, and then a further joke about how life holds adventures enough to fill the pages of a novel (or in this case, the pages of seven novels and counting). It's nice to know that Gabaldon clearly has a sense of humor about her enormous novels -- and her fans will probably be delighted to feel in on the joke.

I must confess a sense of dismay at leaving Scotland and striking out for the New World. Even if we do make it back, I'll miss it as the primary setting for the story. I suppose she needs new locations to keep something fresh, though -- it's enough that we know all books will deal with Claire and Jamie, but it must be difficult to come up with continued storylines to keep everyone interested... particularly when we tossed aside twenty years in book two. Clearly, I'm in it for good, now, and I continue to recommend Gabaldon as a writer for those looking to really toss themselves into an epic storyline with quite enjoyable characters who, no matter how ridiculous the adventure might seem, you're always pleased to see them weather any storm.

Dragonfly in Amber

Dragonfly in Amber is the second book in Diana Gabaldon's Outlander series and when you pick it up, you need to accept a few things. I'll spell them out for you now so at least you're prepared. One: unlike Outlander, this title is so ridiculous that if you're willing to be seen with this book, then you know you're hooked. Two: despite its beginnings, this book once again features Claire and Jamie in their race to somehow change the outcome of Scottish history (and more particularly, to save the Scottish clans from the massacre of Culloden), but it's definitely more focused on the history than the first book. To combine these two points, I might note with amusement that Outlander seems even more like a romance novel than its sequel, but the sequel is the one with the romance novel title. You could be seen in public reading the first book (if you can control your blushing), but the title of the second will make it look like you're reading a romance novel and yet you don't get as many of the benefits (see previous note about blushing). Three: unless you're prepared to take on the rest of the series, you should not start this book. Pretend that the first simply ended happily and leave it there. I say this for your own good, because the second ends with a cliffhanger and as soon as you finish this one, there is no feasible way that you can resist the pull of the third... and once you've read the third, are you really going to stop there? Oh, and two more things before I start the review. Since I find the title so painful, I'm just going to refer to this book as DiA... and since this is the sequel to Outlander, I warn you now that I give away the ending of Outlander so I can better explain DiA.

We open in Inverness, 1968. Already you're thinking "Um, what?" At the end of Outlander, Claire had chosen to stay with Jamie rather than return to Frank, and they were in France after fleeing Scotland with only their lives. It was 1744. Yes, that's all true, but it shouldn't take you very long to realize that something went wrong and for some reason, Claire did go back to her time after all. Since she's introduced as Claire Randall, you can also assume that she went back to Frank... but her ridiculously tall, redheaded daughter is clearly the product of a certain young Scot named Jamie Fraser.

Roger Wakefield was just a boy when we caught a glimpse of him at the beginning of Outlander, an orphan taken in by his uncle who now crops up again with a larger role. (If you're the kind of person to think back about things from the beginning of Outlander that might now come into play, perhaps you'll also remember Frank's encounter with what appears to have been the ghost of a highlander looking up at Claire's room with longing...) Roger is now a young man in the painful process of grieving for his uncle and cleaning out the Reverend's house which is chock-full of books and papers. He opens the door one morning to find Claire Randall and her daughter, Brianna, on his porch. They're in Scotland on holiday and Claire has a request to make of the nephew of Reverend Wakefield, seeing as the Reverend shared her deceased husband's enthusiasm for Scottish history. All too quickly, when Roger agrees to help Claire with some research work (tracing the fates of certain Highlanders who probably fought at Culloden), he realizes that something is amiss. Claire is acting a bit cagey and Brianna looks nothing like the pictures of her supposed father, Frank Randall. Of course, Roger is quickly smitten with the beautiful daughter, Bree, so he spends a great deal of time thinking about her, but that doesn't stop him from snooping around to figure out what Claire is hiding. When he stumbles upon some newspaper clippings from May of 1948, he learns that Claire Randall reappeared after three years of being missing and presumed dead... she was exhausted, apparently unhinged, and pregnant. Of course, whatever explanation Roger comes up with pales in comparison to the truth, which comes out in a rush as the three of them visit the kirkyard of St. Kilda... where a gravestone shows a name that means a great deal to Claire. James Fraser.

Presumably, Claire tells Roger and Brianna about all the events in Outlander before embarking on the second half of the story, which is DiA. Having escaped to France, Jamie and Claire have the opportunity to stay and run Jamie's cousin Jared's importing industry while he travels on business. This allows them the cover and the contacts they need as they attempt to thwart the plans of a Jacobite Rebellion. It's a very different scene in Paris than it was in Scotland, with dinner parties and trade intrigue, but Claire and Jamie remain the same in personality, even if their daily tasks are quite different. Of course, Claire is pregnant now and Jamie's trying to handle her with kid gloves, so the sex isn't quite as steamy in this book as it was in the previous one. Jamie befriends Charles Stuart, the Young Pretender they hope he will never be, and for a time, he seems more interested in his mistress than rebellion. There are a number of near-death and near-rape experiences (so maybe it isn't so different from Scotland after all?) and yet a further entanglement with Frank Randall's ancestors when Claire meets Mary Hawkins (whose name she saw on Frank's family tree as having married Jonathan "Black Jack" Randall) and Alexander Randall (brother of the same). Of course, Jamie and Claire believe that Black Jack Randall is dead, having been stampeded by cows at the end of Outlander. (Stampeded by cows might seem odd, yes, but it was all part of a plan to rescue Jamie from prison, where Randall was torturing and having his way with Jamie.) After what Randall did to Jamie, one can hardly mourn the loss, but Claire is tormented with questions about what this means to her first husband, Frank, and his possibilities of being born if his direct ancestor is killed before having the opportunity to perpetuate the family lineage. I think you can tell, though, that with epics like this, you can never really call someone dead until you've seen the body... and, well, what with time travel and all, I'm sure that we'll even have some issues there eventually.

Lest you fear that we've lost the Highland magic in this book, I'll let you know that we don't spend the whole book in France. With Scotland's history in the balance, there's no way that we could sit that out with only the Frenchies for company. The time in France, however, is well-spent in picking up a few side characters, including an apothecary who looks like a frog (though he might dabble in darker things than simple herbs), a boy named Fergus (well, his name is Claudel but Jamie hardly sees this a fit name for a man) who Jamie employs as a thief to steal letters, and the king of France himself. We also build upon the passionate relationship between Claire and Jamie, which is put to the test in this novel as they make promises to each other which are difficult to keep, given the complicated nature of trying to change the future, but not change everything.

Whether Jamie and Claire can stop the massacre of Culloden and what exactly it is that brought Claire back to the modern age... well, that's the bulk of DiA. The cliffhanger ending should be fairly obvious to those with any foresight, but with several books to go, I'm willing to trust in Gabaldon and let her take us wherever she wants to go. It's certainly been an entertaining ride thus far!

Outlander

If you're anything like me, even in today's age of online shopping, you still spend a good deal of time lurking in the fiction section of bookstores, idly scanning the spines of books to find titles to add to your growing list of things to read. As a result, you might have noticed an ever-expanding space of shelf in the Gs for Diana Gabaldon. The covers of her books are a solid background color with only the author name, the book title, and an image of a crown or a thistle or something. Having seen these for years, I figured they were some historical epic that spawned countless sequels. I was right. But I'd also, apparently, been missing out on the fact that these rather simple covers encapsulate a romantic storyline that sweeps over the Scottish highlands of the 1700s, yet does so from the perspective of a twentieth century woman. How? Well, there's this magic stone circle...

Um, yeah, let me start over. Outlander opens on Claire Randall and her husband, Frank, who have gone to the Scottish highlands for a second honeymoon. The year is 1945 and the second world war has just ended. Claire and Frank married quite quickly before the war and found themselves separated for years while they both served their country. Claire was a nurse in a field hospital and Frank was sent off to officers' training and then to MI6. They decided that what they need is a bit of time to get reacquainted... hence, the second honeymoon. Frank has his own historical interests, largely wrapped up in his genealogy, and Claire is an amateur botanist, so they both have things to keep them occupied while they stay near Inverness. Things seem to be going well for them, aside from this brief moment where Frank rather cautiously broaches the subject as to whether or not Claire might have some love affair during their long separation, which he insists he would completely understand. Claire vehemently protests that she never did any such thing and only later does it occur to her that perhaps Frank was the one who had done such a thing. One morning, after being tipped off that a Druid Beltane ritual might take place at a particular stone circle nearby, they hide and silently watch women of the town perform an ancient ceremony. The next day, Claire returns to the place to take some plant samples... and by touching one of the stones, she tumbles headfirst into a different time.

Of course, it takes a little while for her to accept this fact, even after nearly being captured by her husband's ancestor Jonathan "Black Jack" Randall and then actually being captured by a band of kilted Scotsmen brandishing weaponry. At first, she tries to convince herself that this is simply some renegade Scottish clan in a particularly uncivilized patch of the country, but no... she's in the 1740s and her life depends on being able to not seem like a crazy woman, babbling about how she's come through some portal from a time 200 years in the future. It's bad enough that she's English and the Scots aren't too wild about the English or solitary women wandering about in what appears to be a very skimpy shift (as opposed to the pretty floral dress it would have been identified as in the 1940s). Indeed, this is the time right before the Jacobite Rebellion/Rising of 1745 and the Young Pretender, Bonnie Prince Charlie. Suspected as a spy, Claire saves her own skin by being able to bandage up the wounds of a handsome young Scot named Jamie... and further assists when she tips off the group about a particular marker that she had recently learned (while listening to a history of the country back in 1945) was a favorite location of the English to ambush the Scots.

Claire is taken to Castle Leoch, where the laird, Colum MacKenzie, is to decide her fate. His brother, Dougal, was the man who captured her and while Claire doesn't quite trust the fellows, Dougal does recommend Claire's healing skills to Colum. He asks her to stay on in the castle to do what she can as a healer for the people there while he supposedly tries to find a way to get her to France. (Claire had worked up a story about being a widow, ambushed on the road as she started a journey to relatives in France.) She sticks to the story, but the MacKenzie brothers aren't quite satisfied here and Claire is basically watched every moment. Despite befriending a few people, Claire is still a "sassenach," or "outlander," and she's desperate to see if there's any possible way for her to return to her own time via the stone circle. Things get even more complicated when Claire finds herself in the awkward position of having to marry the young Scot, Jamie, in order to protect herself from Black Jack Randall (who looks far too disconcertingly like her husband, Frank, and yet is filled with cruelty).

I have a feeling that I would have really loved this book back when I was twelve, eager to read historical novels that weren't YA. I still enjoyed it now in its mass market context of a fun, romantic novel. It's packed with quite a few sex scenes that illustrate the passionate charge between Claire and Jamie which leads to Claire being completely torn about the idea of returning to her actual time because of this handsome young Scot. Their fights are pretty impressive, too; Gabaldon seems to believe that with that much passion between them, they'd spend as much time fighting as they would making up... well, maybe a little more time making up. Jamie rescues Claire repeatedly from danger and she manages to do the same for him (though usually with a little less panache). There is, however, a great amount of historical detail that goes into the book, so it's not all romance novel-y. It's chock full of scenes to evoke the time period that involve Scottish politics, witch trials, attempted rapes, battles, and rudimentary medical practice. There's also a surprising amount of references to sodomy, though never really positive. I suppose there's this blunt Scottish attitude that makes things both funny and a bit shocking at times.

Claire is a very warm and likable heroine (I particularly enjoyed her very modern swearing that repeatedly requires explanations, like "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ") and Jamie is a charming hunk of a hero. I initially thought that Gabaldon's choice to write in Scottish dialect was annoying, but it certainly keeps the Scottish burr in your mind, and when it's coming from big, strong Jamie, that's hardly a bad thing. Their growing love is the main appeal of the novel, but the historical detail is great, particularly when we understand that Claire means to change the future and save Scottish clansmen from the slaughter at Culloden that marks the final battle of the 1745 Jacobite Rebellion. Whether or not she can will certainly be the subject of a future novel, because what Claire needs to decide first is in what time she truly belongs. Gabaldon has created a thrilling store of highland romance and I finally see what all the fuss was about. Outlander is not great literature by any means, but Claire and Jamie are pleasant companions on a rainy day when the Scottish highlands seem like they aren't quite so far away from one's imagination.

The Lost City of Z

For anyone who ever dreamed of being an explorer, opted for something a bit more practical, and yet still feels the occasional itch to do something off the map, I suggest that you read The Lost City of Z: A Tale of Deadly Obsession in the Amazon, by David Grann. The Lost City of Z is the account of a modern reporter's search for Percy Harrison Fawcett, an English explorer lost in the Amazon as he searched for a city he called Z, a location that the broader public might identify as El Dorado. The narrative jumps back and forth between a historical account of Fawcett and Grann's own search to uncover new information about the missing explorer and his team, which included his own son and his son's best friend. The insertion of the word "obsession" in the subtitle is important, because that's at the root of this book, in both time periods. It's not just about the obsession to find Z, but it's about the need to find answers about the fate of those who went looking for it. David Grann is a great writer with a passion for his topic that comes across quite clearly. While the story isn't exactly Indiana Jones (though real-life Fawcett did inspire a few other works), Grann has a way of making everything exciting while still affirming your suspicions that it's probably better to sit on your couch and read about this. The bugs really are that terrifying.

After a long career of mapping the Amazon jungle, British explorer Percy Harrison Fawcett was 57 and ready to launch the expedition he had always wanted to attempt: a search for the lost city of Z. Fawcett had long believed that within the Amazon, there would be evidence of an advanced civilization. His motives weren't based solely on wealth (though most people equated Z with stories of golden El Dorado), but rather he wanted to prove the theory that an advanced civilization within the jungle was possible and, indeed, had existed and thrived. For years, Fawcett had built a reputation as being the Shackleton of the Amazon (while grumbling about the money that the arctic explorers received in comparison to his own meager funding), and while his personality sometimes made dealing with him a bit difficult, everyone around him (including his wife) came to believe that Fawcett could never come to harm. His final expedition launched in 1925. The men that Fawcett had come to rely upon during his previous expeditions were no longer available, and so he brought two young men whom he believed he could trust implicitly: his son, Jack, and Jack's best friend Raleigh Rimell. The last time they were ever seen alive was in April and for years, the Fawcett and Rimell families held out hope that the men would emerge from the jungle alive. Eventually, the rescue parties began... and then simply the expeditions to discover if any trace could be found that gave a clue as to what happened to them. No evidence was ever found, though it's possible that as many as 100 people died in the pursuit of this information.

David Grann was bitten by the Fawcett bug, and while he insists that never developed the obsessive fervor that some Fawcett freaks showed, he clearly went far beyond the usual research. After befriending the living members of the Fawcett family and gaining access to private papers, Grann went into the jungle to see what he could find of Fawcett and of Z. Grann has the benefit of modern technology, but it's clear that the Amazon is still a deadly and dangerous place. While we all would probably know from the news if Grann had achieved ground-breaking success by solving a 90+ year mystery, the answers that he does manage to find are a bit more subtle and yet terribly important.

Honestly, I suggest that you just dive into this book when you're ready for a great read. Just go buy it and enjoy. I don't want to go into too much detail because Grann does a remarkable job of introducing you to one of the last great explorers and the circumstances surrounding his final expedition. There's something so wonderfully readable about Grann's style as he takes you through Fawcett's origins and career, all leading up to his mysterious disappearance. Clearly, everything is well researched and described in incredible detail... often too detailed when it comes to things like the terrible living conditions of the jungle or the pestilence found within. It should be a compliment to Grann for conjuring such a vivid image that I had to take a shower after reading a particular description of maggots that burrow under your skin... yet I can't quite bring myself to thank him for it.

And as for Grann's own interest? Well, obviously I'm pleased that he did everything that he did, or we wouldn't have such a wonderful book to read so I could be an armchair explorer, visualizing the perilous journey through the Amazon from the comfort of my couch... but I also found myself heartily agreeing with Grann's wife, who is supportive and yet a bit skeptical about her husband's sudden obsession, particularly as they have a very young son that just arrived on the scene. Grann clearly seems to be making his last-ditch attempt at being an adventurer as the image of settling down to be a family man looms in front of him. It's not as though Grann is used to long treks through the jungle. Heck, a moment of triumph for Grann is when he decides he should take the stairs up to his second-floor apartment as opposed to the elevator. There is a particularly humorous scene in a camping supply store where Grann loads up on fancy items before the store employee realizes that what Grann really needs are the basics. The modern age and its gadgets are some comfort, but there's still great danger. As recently as 1996, an amateur Fawcett expedition nearly ended in death for its members after they were kidnapped by natives in the jungle.

Seriously, if you've ever named the dog Indiana, posed with a whip and a fedora, or wanted the chance to explore uncharted regions, then I think you'll really enjoy The Lost City of Z. (Sadly, Fawcett never seems to have said, "That belongs in a museum!" but he does actually have quite a sense of humor as evidenced by his writing.) If Grann was going to have a midlife crisis that needed to be worked out via ridiculous travel and danger, then at least this was the wonderful result. So thanks to David Grann for surviving to pen such a fun read... and thanks to his wife for letting him go in the first place.

Divisadero

The story of Divisadero by Michael Ondaatje is grounded in the violent dispersal of an already unusual family, and then follows the scattered pieces of people around the globe as they continue their fractured lives, echoing the patterns of other wounded souls that have come before. While the story opens in 1970s rural California farmland, it was not until several chapters in that I realized this was the case -- indeed, the early lives described seemed more fitting for the late 1800s or early 1900s... something post-gold rush and tarnished with the failure of grand dreams. Be warned that even though we get many perspectives in this novel, we may never be told anything that's true, or perhaps there's no way to know if what we remember is true or if it has altered in our memories. Anna, one of the main characters of the novel, tells us that she comes from Divisadero Street in San Francisco (which the reader can immediately identify as a lie, as we've already learned about her childhood in rural Northern California). Of course, the way she describes the word and its origins seems apt for the past the shaped her. “Divisadero, from the Spanish word for ‘division,’ the street that at one time was the dividing line between San Francisco and the fields of the Presidio. Or it might derive from the word divisar, meaning ‘to gaze at something from a distance.’ ” In this novel, when dealing with a first person perspective, we usually have several years' distance between the telling and the event.

A man and his wife take in a neighbor boy named Coop after he witnesses the brutal murder of his own family. Shortly thereafter, the wife dies in childbirth and the man brings home not just his own daughter, Anna, but another little girl, Claire, whose mother met the same fate as his wife, as though he was still owed another person by the hospital. The girls are raised not just as sisters, but with the linked consciousness of twins. The children inhabit their own world that revolves around the quiet life of the farm until they inevitably grow up and feel more complicated emotions for each other. Anna and Coop start a relationship and when Anna's father stumbles upon them together, he beats Coop senseless. Perhaps the only thing that stops him from killing the boy is Anna, who stabs her father with a shard of glass. Her father then drags Anna away in the middle of a storm and the family is never whole again.

The book examines the lives of these three near-siblings in fragmented pieces, shifting perspectives and leaving out blocks of time so that we only see small sections of their lives since the violence that drove them apart. Anna is in France, researching a once-famous writer named Lucien Segura and beginning a relationship with a man who, as a child, knew Segura. After escaping her father as he drove her away from the farm, Anna never contacted anyone in her family again -- not her father, not Coop, not even Claire -- and never speaks about her origins with anyone. Claire works for a legal defender's office, hunting down the answers in other people's lives when she can no longer tie up the loose ends within her own. She remains the only child who still sees their father, visiting the farm on weekends to ride her horse through the hills. Coop, meanwhile, found himself in a vagabond existence as a gambler, winning money by playing cards and perhaps not realizing that the deck is stacked against him. Claire found Coop after the violent beating from their father and again finds him after another such incident. History repeats itself.

Divisadero was a book club selection and there were a wide variety of opinions about it... which makes for fantastic discussion. So even though I did not love this book, I did love the discussion that it drew from us. Rather than purchase the paperback, I bought the audio version, as read by Hope Davis. Ms. Davis has a beautiful voice and does an incredible job reading this novel; her French pronunciation in particular was lovely and it wasn't even until my book club met that I realized I took that for granted. When they learned that I had listened to the audio version, everyone demanded that I tell them how to pronounce several names and places from within the novel which then seemed odd to me to see in print. Ultimately, I found Divisadero to move incredibly slowly (I kept checking to see how much time was left of the file on my ipod, which is never a good sign) and while it was very easy to sit back and let Ms. Davis's voice wash over me, I wasn't terribly invested in the characters and so I just let the audio roll by. The only negative aspect of the audio version is the fact that shifting perspectives often mean that you're left a bit confused for a moment as you realize the narrator has shifted. At least with the book in front of you, you might realize a bit late, but go back to re-read what you had misinterpreted as belonging to a different voice. It was too much trouble to bother with that for audio and besides, it wasn't as though ten-minute sections would pass before such a realization.

Other members of book club adored the book, but those of us in the anti-camp had bigger issues with certain discrepancies in time and the lack of motivation for several characters. One person described most of them as wandering about, uncertain as to who they really are, to the point where it was surprising they hadn't been hit by a car by now for their dazed existence. Everyone seemed to have mixed feelings on just about everyone and everything, from the setting to the believability of the family make-up to the lack of communication between them in later years and so on. In addition to Anna, Coop, and Claire, we also go back to look at Lucien Segura (the author that Anna is researching) and his own broken, complicated family relationships, which take over the narrative before you even realize that we'll never get back to Anna, Coop and Claire. It was a bit of a disappointment to realize that Ondaantje has no intentions of coming to some resolution for them... which perhaps isn't surprising, but it's like failing to realize that your last interaction with a person actually was your last. There was no opportunity to say goodbye or process that this would be the last time. I also felt a bit surprised when Segura became a larger focus of book in the second half, as I had rather assumed he wouldn't enter the narrative at all.

The three not-quite-siblings in this novel are all a bit broken, forever defined by this one violent action in their lives that drove them apart. We talked a lot about what violence does to change people (Coop was the focal point of that discussion, having seen one family murdered and another destroyed) and whether one can really have one's existence defined in such a way in reality. Someone commented that Ondaatje wrote this novel as though it was a depiction of real life -- you get pieces of the picture and never a single, clear narrative. These are broken lives, which rest well in a broken narrative. It goes off on tangents and you may never fully understand a person's motivation or background... or perhaps you come close before being taken off to something else. While this might be the only real way to account for Ondaatje's vision of the novel, it hardly feels satisfying. The quality of the writing seems to demand more, but so it goes. Satisfaction is not his objective. The writing is lovely, but if you do opt to read this novel, I suggest that you do so with someone else so you can discuss it afterward, rather than stew in the book's unanswered questions.

The Sweet Far Thing

Well, it's over. The Sweet Far Thing is the last in this trilogy of books by Libba Bray that depict young women in Victorian England with access to magical realms (creatively called "the realms") and yet don't have any idea what to do with this magic, so they spend three books trying to figure that out while dodging all adult advice/manipulation. Of course, just because it's the last book doesn't mean that it's a fast conclusion. Oh no. You've got 819 pages to savor the end of the series. It's Harry Potter proportions... only I haven't found this series to be anywhere near as compelling.

Here's the thing. It's the third book, so if you've made it through the first two, it means that you either (a) love these books and so you're excited or (b) are like me and have an obsessive need to finish what you've begun. Either way, you're probably going to read it, having made it this far, so I don't feel like I need to sell anyone on this.

Gemma is still seventeen, in her last few months attending Spence's boarding school for young ladies, and she's still trying to decide what to do with this power she's been given -- and everyone else is quick to demand that she hand it over. The Order, the Rakshana, Circe... yes, I know that Gemma thought she killed her in book two, but as you know if you've read these books, people who have been killed aren't nearly as dead as they should be when the realms are concerned. Pippa, who was already lost to the realms, is now assured that she's certainly stuck there and her own sense of self-importance is fanned by a coterie of adoring girls (victims of a factory fire also stuck in this limbo) who might not be cultured, but worship Pip. Circe is still somehow present in the realms' temple and all too easily works her way into Gemma's confidence. (Um, Gemma? This woman is responsible for your mom's death. Remember that?) And then there's Amar, the brother of Gemma's love interest, Kartik, and member of the Rakshana. He's prowling around as a corrupted being like Pippa and he seems to be commanding an army of Winterlands creatures in a bid to keep the magic for their own use. How are the mighty fallen.

Of course, Gemma has to come a long way before she realizes that curtsying correctly for her presentation to Queen Victoria is not exactly something she can compare with all the difficult decisions ahead. It's too easy for Gemma to use magic for her own purposes... whether that's making her family a little happier or making herself seem more powerful and wanted by Simon to upset his father, a member of the Rakshana. Sure, she's a teenager, but even she should know better by this point. When it comes down to the big decisions, a lot of them are made off the cuff, without much forethought. Spur of the moment things that are meant to show bravery or somesuch nonsense, but really just seem to suggest that no one can think ahead.

Suffice to say that since this is the last book, we finally have some resolutions about things. The Felicity/Pippa connection (if you haven't figured out that they're not just friends by now, then I'm not sure that you actually read the previous two books) is built up to this huge unveiling, but since that seemed obvious, it was a bit annoying... and particularly annoying is Fee's absolute conviction in her inclinations. Being only a teenager at this time period, I should think that she would still be figuring it all out as opposed to being so convinced of her orientation. Those looking for Gemma and Kartik to finally get together should feel pleased... for a few minutes. Kartik's utter devotion to Gemma might seem unrealistic, but given the out-of-the-ordinary circumstances that unite them, I accepted it as sweet and chivalrous, because at least you knew he had struggled with his decisions. Though the fact that they get together before we're close to the finale should be your first indication that nothing can end well. It did, however, annoy me that Bray settled on the path that allows their love (which could probably never exist in the real world outside the realms, given the time period) but takes the easy way out as far as resolutions go. Ultimately, I have a hard time seeing how all this trouble can be attributed to anything but Gemma's inability to make up her mind and part with her powers. She acts much younger than her age, particularly given how most everyone else around her seems capable of rising to their challenges. She may be the narrator and thus, the one we are supposed to identify with and root for, but my sympathy for Gemma only goes so far.

As for the writing, I feel as though Bray isn't quite where she needs to be. She moves much too quickly through her descriptions, particularly as it concerns the action. It's as though she assumed by writing quickly, we'd hurry through it and the only important part, really, is the outcome so we'll focus on that instead. And that's an odd feeling to have... for eight hundred or so pages. Even three lengthy books didn't seem enough to encompass an adequate description of this fantasy world that Bray created. I would have preferred a storyline much more compact in its scope and more detail about the realms. Or if epic was the objective, then something else needed to give way. I felt as though very few decisions were made... which rather makes me equate Gemma with Libba Bray in that sense.

If you enjoyed the series up to now, you'll probably still like it because you're predisposed to such a decision. If you're on the fence, then I think you might be swayed towards annoyance. I do appreciate Bray's expansive imagination that allows for such fantastic creations, but ultimately I think she needs to learn that writing is about making choices... which seems to be the lesson that she's trying to teach Gemma throughout this trilogy, so it would be a good one to take to heart.

Pride/Prejudice

Oh dear. Perhaps it's my own failing and there's something I fail to understand about the real motivations for writing, but I find it hard to believe that when Ann Herendeen set out to write this homoerotic slash version of Pride and Prejudice that this published result really conveys the exact sentiments to the reader that she intended. I can understand the creative ambition that would drive a writer to put some kind of twist on a Jane Austen novel... they're classic and amazing and many readers love to explore new twists or sequels. And I can even understand why folks might write slash fiction for their favorite characters. But then there's Pride/Prejudice, which seems as though it's using the classic novel to advocate for a bisexual/open relationship telling, but still remains oddly biased and limiting. Really, all Herendeen wanted to create with this telling was bisexual porn that seems to advocate male love over female love? The basic story follows the plot of the standard Pride and Prejudice but behind-the-scenes motivations are all a bit different for our three main couples. Darcy isn't as convinced of the Bennets unsuitability for his friend Bingley so much as he wants to keep Bingley to himself, as his young and pliable gay lover. Wickham used to be Darcy's lover back in the day, and it broke Darcy's heart when Wickham ended it and said he only did it so he could get money out of Darcy... and then tried to seduce Darcy's sister, too. Lydia's a slut-- oh wait, that's the same, never mind. Lizzy is repulsed that Charlotte would consider marrying Mr. Collins but is partially jealous that Charlotte could give up Lizzy, her gay-lover-but-not-quite-because-apparently-women-don't-have-the-same-attachments-that-men-do-when-it-comes-to-same-sex-couples? There's something a bit confusing in this logic and I'm not quite sure what to do with it, as clearly Herendeen has no problems when it comes to gay couples... but she seems to imply that female couples just don't last? Apparently love between two male friends is this Greek ideal and is the highest level of love that can be attained... but women are just kind of playing around? Um, what?

Then there's the issue of committed relationships versus open ones... and if Herendeen was trying to make a bid for more open relationships when it comes to sex, then I'm not sure she achieved her goal. Things seem to wind up where Bingley and Darcy get to have their cake and eat it, too, but the ladies are totally satisfied with their husbands. Even while I'm glad we don't delve into incestuous sisters, it still seems to be a bit unfair. Lizzy finds out pretty early what's going on between Bingley and Darcy (and evidently so does Jane, as Bingley confesses it to her during their courtship). Bingley is not as committed to such a homosexual lifestyle as Darcy and lashes out at Darcy a few times while Darcy tries to ignore Bingley's insistence and keep him under his... well, let's just say thumb. Darcy is presented as a very selfish woman-hater who coerces Bingley into keeping up their sexual activity long after Bingley has expressed a wish to end things. Bingley's love for Jane seems a bit more likely as opposed to Darcy's love for Elizabeth, which hinges on her ability to converse with him as an equal (and is semi-sparked when he originally thinks that her body resembles that of a boy). Darcy seems to learn more about honesty and openness and forgiveness and not-hating-women as a result of his struggle over loving Elizabeth, but I'm not quite sure that I buy it. Ultimately, the gentlemen marry their lady-loves, but there's a bit of a rift between the two couples before the wedding when Jane learns that Darcy was responsible for keeping Bingley and Jane apart when she was in London. The anger is uncharacteristic of Jane, but then, Herendeen doesn't quite present the same Lizzy and Jane that we all know. Ultimately, after a month of marriage-sanctioned sex, the couples reunite... and with their wives' blessing, Darcy and Bingley get to have their ideal male love while still having perfect marriages. Lizzy and Jane, however, remain completely devoted to their husbands... and while Jane blossoms into rational and sweet womanhood, Lizzy's conversation makes her appear somewhat bitter and whiny once she starts having children. The only pro-lesbian pairing is Anne de Bourgh and Charlotte Collins, but Anne isn't interested in the sexual side of things and even agrees to a very gay husband, as she just wants to be left in peace.

I read this book in the space of time that it took the Super Bowl to occur, as I had a quiet apartment to myself and a friend had presented me with an advanced reading copy of this novel. At least it was a fast read? And free? Seriously, I don't recommend spending money or much time on this particular book, because even if the idea of gay sex in P&P is new, it's not all that interesting... or if it is interesting, it's interesting for the hypocrisy and ridiculousness. In the beginning, things seemed to move along quite quickly -- thankfully, Herendeen didn't see the need to re-hash every scene from the original Austen with her new motivations threaded through (à la Pride and Prejudice and Zombies). Instead, she tends to occupy the space between the existing scenes -- so I thought we might get through the original story rather quickly and then Herendeen could stake out her own territory in the post-wedding storyline. Not so. We get bogged down when Darcy and Caroline accompany Bingley to London. Bingley mopes around, forming a platonic friendship with Georgiana, and Darcy takes up with a men's club that specializes in his particular sexual preferences. The amount of time spent on this club seemed ridiculously unnecessary and bizarre until I noticed that Hendereen has written another novel that features that club that she felt the need to link into the P&P plotline. Clearly, this was all set up for the writer's delight and the reader just has to trudge through. There was only one moment in the book where I laughed, and that was when the fellows at the homosexual club mentioned a fellow named Henry Tilney -- the male lead in Northanger Abbey who is so foppish that it's likely he was gay, despite marrying Catherine Morland. If someone wanted to explore the homosexual past of a character, Henry Tilney would be the prime candidate.

If you expect any kind of interesting statements about alternative lifestyles or homosexual relationships, then you've come to the wrong place. But I guess I was wrong to expect that in the first place. This is the only book of slash fiction that I've ever read and evidently it just isn't my thing -- I can't quite wrap my head around the fact that apparently most slash fiction is written by heterosexual women (according to that final say on all research, Wikipedia). But whatever floats your boat, I suppose. As far as the genre goes, I have no idea if this is the norm or any good, but if you're looking for a ridiculous pornographic re-telling of Pride and Prejudice that requires little-to-no thought on your part and focuses on the gay sex more than straight sex, then you've found exactly what you're looking for. I might also recommend Linda Berdoll's Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife (originally published as The Bar Sinister), which has a more substantial story, but also features Mr. Darcy and his new bride having lots of sex. But if you're looking for a clever and sexy re-telling of Pride and Prejudice... well... keep looking.

The Aviary Gate

The Aviary Gate by Kate Hickman is a lush narrative that reaches back into the sultan's harem of Constantinople, 1599, to relate a bittersweet story of loyalty, love, and loss. Elizabeth is a modern day grad student at Oxford, entangled with a rake and researching captivity narratives for a bid at an MPhil. She stumbles upon some clues that suggest an Englishwoman named Celia Lamprey survived a shipwreck in the late 1500s only to be sold as a slave into the Ottoman sultan's harem. Elizabeth's quest to learn more about the fate of Celia (and to disentangle herself from her own emotional enslavement to a man who doesn't deserve her) takes her from Oxford to Istanbul and while definitive proof can rarely survive four hundred years, sometimes history can reach out and speak to you.

The Aviary Gate goes back and forth between a few months in Elizabeth's present day story and a few days in Celia's narrative. While one might picture luxury and decadence in the harem, Hickman focuses on the lies and secrecy that permeate what is, essentially, a cage for the many women kept at the beck and call of a single sultan. I suppose it's not surprising to suggest that women have been catty for centuries, but it's particularly apparent in a story that features such treachery and backstabbing as women vie to become the Haseki, or favorite concubine of the sultan. There is also the possibility for incredible loyalty between individuals, but that pales in comparison to the terrible bits. When Celia learns that her old fiancee, Paul Pindar, is in Constantinople and might be aware of the fact that she survived the shipwreck... well, it puts her on a desperately hopeful track that ruins any chance she had of embracing the life she's been given in the harem. Hickman keeps the reader on the edge of her seat, wondering if there's any chance that this story might have a happy ending, and ultimately she produces a novel whose strength is in the historical details if not the character relationships.

At one point in the novel, a Turkish academic asks a rather perfectly apt question of Elizabeth: "What is this western obsession with harems?" Clearly the allure is for the sensual aspects, which the novel seems to savor at the beginning, but Hickman quickly veers away from such as complications arise. While Elizabeth's love life takes a turn for the better (she forgets the ass back home and meets up with a desirable Turkish man), Celia has been steadily dipping into a loss of hope as she clings to a simple desire of seeing Paul one last time even if he cannot save her. Hickman really does paint a vivid picture of the Ottoman Empire and the possible lives of women who were lost to the sultan's harem. It's not surprising that an author noted for her nonfiction work would take such care to thoroughly research the period, but all the effort is quite clear. The shift from risque to bittersweet was a bit rough, though, and I found it to be disappointing, as though Hickman wanted to provide some salacious or frightening bits but truly wanted to tell a tragic love story, too, which left things feeling a bit lopsided. There's no creschendo to the tragic love story -- Paul and Celia never speak, Celia never becomes a favorite of the sultan, we don't know if Celia gets to see Paul, we don't see Paul leave Constantinople, we don't see if Celia is executed for her reckless actions. We know that Paul survived and mourned her loss, but that's about it, and we're left unsatisfied.

Given the separation of Celia and Paul, not just by palace walls but by time (for it's been two years since Paul gave Celia up as drowned), it's not surprising that their love story is a bit one-note. We never get to see them interact, so each is simply harboring an image of the other that has been idealized over time. Paul is simply grieving on all levels and Celia seems a bit broken, even as she hopes that she might escape the harem. In novels, one generally finds characters who are willing to take extreme chances in order to change their lives, and even if they fail, they have at least made an attempt. Paul and Celia both abandon the quest quite easily as they understand the odds they're up against. It might be realistic, but it was also quite sad. Celia may have been a much more substantial character as opposed to Paul, but his lack of substance was surprising. My own interpretation was that Paul didn't love Celia enough to risk everything for her and Celia was abandoned to her fate, which quite probably includes drowning... the irony being that everyone originally assumed she had drowned when the ship went down. This time, she'd be tied into a sack and tossed from the palace walls to drown in the river if she was caught trying to open the Aviary Gate so she could see Paul again.

If you're looking for a glimpse at a fascinating time period, then Hickman certainly delivers there, but quite honestly, I would suggest checking out her nonfiction work before you turn to The Aviary Gate.

The Last Olympian

The final Percy Jackson book! Well, maybe. Sort of. I mean, come on... we all saw it coming. The Last Olympian may be the final book in the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series, but that doesn't mean that Rick Riordan will not continue to produce books that feature Percy, the gods, and Camp Half-Blood. After all, who can argue with this kind of success? And even without picking up the books, one knows that Percy Jackson is aimed towards a younger audience than Harry Potter, so there's less of a question about his survival, despite a fairly scary sounding prophesy. I think that the average reader can reasonably assume that while there's going to be some bloodshed in this book (there's a war going on, after all), ultimately we'll finish up with a fairly intact cast.

It's been a rough year for everyone as things get closer and closer to a war between gods and Titans... and Percy's sixteenth birthday, which could be just as bad. After all, there's that prophesy looming that suggests a child of the Big Three (either Zeus, Poseidon, or Hades) will have a decision to make on which the future of Olympus hangs. At last count, there were only four possible candidates (Percy's half-brother Tyson, a Cyclops, doesn't seem to be eligible) and don't worry, a new child of the Big Three will not suddenly pop up in this book to sacrifice him/herself. Since Thalia joined the Hunters of Artemis (freezing herself forever as an immortal fifteen-year-old), Bianca died, and Nico is still too young, all eyes are on Percy and we open with a week to go before the big day. There will be Titans, monsters, a spy, a kiss or two, a lot of battles, and we finally get to hear the last part of the prophesy that has been kept from Percy. Let's just say that there was actually a good reason for that and things don't look too hopeful for the kid who's got this destiny if they're interpreting it correctly. Ah, but there is the key to it all, right?

If you don't know your Greek mythology by the time you've reached the fifth book in this series, seriously, what's wrong with you? You're making Edith Hamilton cry. For those of you who do know your mythology, then you'll note that history tends to repeat itself and this war is stacking up to look like the original war between gods and Titans. A few key players are switching sides or abstaining, but since we've already read four books about the half-blooded children of the gods, then we all know that the true balance will rest with the demi-gods. Much of this book (and the outcome of the war) reflects on the relationships between half-bloods and their parents, which drives them to side with them or against them. It's not surprising that Riordan (who created the whole Percy Jackson story for his son) is deeply concerned about the relationship between parents and their children, but he's really rested the crux of this war on the way the gods have conducted themselves with their offspring.

Percy is wrapping up the summer with a short trip to the beach, accompanied by his mom, Paul (now his stepdad), and his friend Rachel (the redheaded mortal who can see through the Mist to immortal events). She extends Percy an invitation to come with her family on vacation and asks if she's ever going to get a kiss from Percy -- when he's called away to help destroy the Princess Andromeda, a cruise ship full of monsters and the headquarters of Kronos, the Titan leading the fight against the gods. Kronos looks like Luke these days, haven taken over the body of the half-blood son of Hermes. (Remember that Luke used to be a friend to Percy, Annabeth, and Thalia, but they fear they have lost him entirely to the "dark side" when he ran off to raise Kronos, and now they might be too late to save him.) While Percy and Charlie Beckendorf (a son of Hephaestus) succeed in destroying the cruise ship, Kronos lives and Charlie does not make it out alive. After a brief recuperation time in his father's palace at the bottom of the ocean, where Percy witnesses the underwater war that his father is waging against Oceanus, Percy returns to camp with sad tidings. Charlie's girlfriend Silena (a daughter of Aphrodite) is devastated and Clarisse (a daughter of Ares) tries to keep her friend from losing it, though the children of Ares and the children of Apollo have been feuding over some spoils from a battle. Grover's been MIA for a while, as he's been trying to spread the word that while Pan is dead, it's now up to everyone else to try and protect the Wild. And Annabeth... well, Annabeth is clearly under a lot of stress what with Percy's mortal not-quite-girlfriend and her own feelings for Luke, who was like a (really hot) brother to her. (On the bright side, she's been reading through Daedalus's laptop -- he left it to her when he sacrificed his own life at the end of the last book so the Labyrinth might die with him -- which has all manner of inventions within, and while she's barely cracked the surface, she's learned enough for some new tricks in this book to appear.) Top it all off, there seems to be a spy in the camp who's relaying information to Kronos.

Things are looking pretty desperate and the gods really aren't helping matters. They're off fighting the Titan Typhon, who is slowly making his way to New York, and Zeus refuses to consider that Kronos might be using that as a distraction so Olympus will be unprotected. Poseidon hasn't been helping in the fight against Typhon because he's been dealing with his own battle. Thus, it's up to Percy and his friends to hold down Manhattan and protect Olympus when Kronos shows up early with an army of immortals at his command. In the bid to get the upper hand, Percy decides to take Nico up on a risky plan -- namely, dipping Percy in the River Styx to give him the Achilles heel treatment, rendering him nearly invincible save for one weak spot. Percy realizes that this is what Luke must have done to support Kronos taking over his body. (Throughout the course of the book, we learn more about Luke's family and what drove him to make the choices he did.) While Nico argues with his father, Hades, that they should join the battle on earth, Percy helps rally the half-blood forces, supported by other lesser immortals like dryads, satyrs, and the Hunters of Artemis, led by Thalia. The children of Ares refuse to participate when they claim that they are not given due credit for their battle contributions. They remain at Camp Half-Blood while the others head to the Empire State Building, where Olympus can be accessed from the 600th floor. They must protect Olympus at all costs, or Kronos will be able to destroy the seat of the gods and all of western civilization will crumble with it. The epic battle is brought to Manhattan, fought in the very streets of the city, while the mortals are put under a sleeping spell by Morpheus, who has sided with Kronos. Annabeth learned from Daedalus's laptop that many of the statues in New York are automatons, able to serve as warriors when activated... which makes for some intriguing situations of famous New York statues springing to life to assist in the fray (my favorite was when the lions in front of the New York Library are activated to help destroy a flying pig). Percy and his friends fight on bridges, in Central Park, and in the streets, trying to defeat the enemy and save as few prone mortals as possible.

Riordan strings out the war with a series of battles, resulting in bursts of action and then short periods of conference where everyone tries to figure out what to do next. All of the events take place over the period of about a week, so this might be the most fast-paced of all the Percy Jackson books. While this is to its credit for younger readers, speeding through to the conclusion, older readers might be a bit disappointed with the lack of forethought that is somewhat characteristic of this series. We might have a prophesy that held everything together, but each book comes up with its own events that you can't foresee and even the endings tend to rest on ideas that pop out of nowhere, without much foreshadowing. Ultimately, though, the book is quite enjoyable and young readers in particular should be pleased with the outcome of this book and the series.

From this point on, there will be spoilers. If you don't want to know what happens to Percy and his crew, then stop reading now. This means you, kids. Trust me, you'll enjoy it. As for the adults, I'm sure you can see what's coming.

Unsurprisingly, it all ends happily, though I admit I was hoping that Riordan would make some tough choices and kill off more characters than he did. Rachel has a large role to play, despite only showing up in the third book. She's been having strange visions and even though she goes off with her family on vacation, she convinces her father that she has to return to Manhattan. There, Percy brings Rachel up to the safety of Olympus, where she joins Hestia (the titular last Olympian, left to guard the hearth up in Olympus) and ultimately assumes her destined role as the Oracle of Delphi (which had been cursed by Hades and drove Luke's mom mad when she attempted to assume the position of Oracle). Now that Percy has been dipped in the Styx, he's a fearsome fighter, but it's not always enough. Prometheus, who has sided with Kronos, gives Percy a "gift" -- the jar of Pandora, with Hope trapped inside. He tells Percy that if he decides to release Hope, then Kronos will let Percy and his friends live. Percy tries to keep the jar far away, but is repeatedly tempted by it until he gives it as an offering to Hestia, goddess of the hearth, because Hope thrives best at home.

Lots of demi-gods die but the larger whole is saved repeatedly by last-minute reinforcements. First, it's Chiron leading the Party Ponies -- chapters all across the country have streamed in to assist. Then it's the children of Ares, led by... Silena, daughter of Aphrodite? Silena, feeling useless in battle and desperate to do something to help the cause, returned to Camp Half-Blood; when she was unable to convince Clarisse to lead her cabin into battle, Silena took a cue from Patroclus (think Trojan War, cousin of Achilles). She stole Clarisse's armor, rallied the cabin, and led them into battle. Clarisse then follows them, but like Patroclus, Silena ends up dying. She reveals at the last minute that she was the spy, feeding information to Luke, because he claimed it would save lives. Enraged with the death of her friend, Clarisse single-handedly brings down a terrifying drakon and causes Kronos's army to fall back before the ultimate battle. The final group of reinforcements to help save the day is an army of the dead, led by Nico and Hades (along with his wife, Persephone, and mother-in-law, Demeter). Hades has finally been persuaded by his son that his realm will also be in jeopardy if the Titans win, or perhaps it was simply the irritation of being trapped with his mother-in-law, rambling on about cereal, that drove him above ground.

Rachel foresaw that a child of Ares would have to kill the monster, giving her some credibility, which is why Percy freaks out a bit when she tells him that he is not the hero of the prophesy. Of course, he's very much part of the prophesy -- he is the child of the Big Three who has to make a decision, but he's not the hero that ends up dead. Percy contacts his father, persuading him to abandon the fight against Oceanus to join the other gods in stopping Typhon before he strikes New York. Tyson helps lead the Cyclopes into battle and the Greek gods finally succeed in bringing down the Titan. Grover and the satyrs score a major victory when their nature magic (which, let's face it, we all figure is semi-lame) is able to entrap the Titan Hyperion in a maple tree in Central Park. With all the battles and all the losses, in the end,it's Grover, Annabeth, and Percy who will stand against Kronos. Annabeth tries to appeal to Luke, believing that he's still somewhere inside the body that Kronos has inhabited, and ultimately, she's right. Luke is the hero of the prophesy who will end up dying, fighting against Kronos's occupation of his body. With Percy's choice to give him his blade, Luke kills himself so that Kronos will be destroyed, too.

The gods arrive to find that Kronos has been defeated, but since he is a Titan, he will ultimately regenerate at some point, though that might take ages. They resume their thrones on Olympus (and even the gods who don't have thrones, like Hades, stick around for a bit) and favors are distributed. Tyson is recognized for his service and promoted to be a General in the Olympian army (and he'll also have "a big stick" as his weapon of choice). Grover is awarded a spot on the Council of Cloven Elders and is now the new Lord of the Wild. Annabeth is charged with rebuilding Olympus, fulfilling her dream to create monuments that will survive for eons. And Percy is offered the chance to become an immortal god... which he turns down when he realizes that being frozen at seventeen might not be all it's cracked up to be if it means leaving behind his half-blood friends (and Annabeth in particular). Instead, he uses this chance to make the gods promise that they will always claim their children before they reach thirteen. The war was largely made possible due to the neglect of the gods, whose unclaimed children felt betrayed and ignored. Percy also insists that cabins should be made for all children of the gods, not just the Olympian twelve. The book ends with Annabeth and Percy finally getting a kiss that isn't immediately followed by a battle. Percy starts his sophomore year and Annabeth starts to attend a boarding school in New York so she can better monitor the progress of building in Olympus... and be close to Percy. As Rachel assumes the role of the Oracle, she gives a prophesy... which Apollo declares must be the next Great Prophesy. And while the last one took years to come about... we're left with the feeling that this one might come about a bit sooner.

Riordan really has created a great series that's full of action and adventure... yet hopefully, it will inspire a love of history in a generation of kids. His inventive use of Greek mythology meant that there really was no need to worry about Harry Potter comparisons once things got rolling. I've also got to hand it to Riordan for not shying away from the less savory bits of Greek mythology... his audience is a bit younger, so one wouldn't be too surprised if he sugar-coated a bit of the affairs -- particularly when you're dealing with lots of male gods who couldn't keep it in their togas and that's the of these these half-blood heroes. In this book, we get flashbacks where Hades and Hermes are both seen with the mortal mother of their children, and both gods are shockingly tender and loving to these women. Riordan might have made things a bit easy there for younger readers to show that these didn't appear to be one-night stands. Of course, at the end of the fourth book, when Poseidon showed up for Percy's fifteenth birthday party, things were a bit awkward (after all, Percy's mother's boyfriend was there, too), but overall, there don't seem to be a whole lot of bad feelings towards the mortals who have children with the gods. They sometimes have tragic fates (aka Luke's mom who was driven insane), but usually things seem okay. Well, except for Thalia's mom, who apparently drank a lot and died in a car accident, but aside from that one.

Continuing on the topic of parent-child relationships, I think that might be the most fascinating bit about the series. Riordan conceived of Percy Jackson after he ran out of Greek myths to tell his son, so he came up with modern versions. For a father writing stories that had their beginnings with his son, it's not surprising that the parent-child bond/struggle is prominent. It shows up in practically every bit of motivation. Heroes trying to prove themselves to their parents; half-bloods getting bitter about not being claimed; Percy trying to stay safe for his mortal mother and being such a good son; gods unable to interfere in the fates of their children; the question of what makes a good parent and how one's love can be mistaken; Nico feeling like he and his father have no place amongst the Olympians; Ethan, son of Nemesis, trying to understand what his role is as a child of the goddess of vengeance and balance; Chiron standing up to his father, Kronos; Thalia rejecting her status as a daughter of Zeus to take up a role in Artemis's Hunters; Annabeth struggling with her understanding of "family" after running away from her father and then coming to find Thalia and Luke; Hades finally coming to realize that if nothing else, he agrees with his siblings that Kronos was a terrible father... I could keep going and going. I didn't ever feel like Riordan was trying to lecture me on proper parenting. If anything, Percy lectures the gods a bit on just this topic, but only so far as it extended to recognizing their children and recognizing every half-blood as important, no matter their parentage.

I'll confess that I was a bit disappointed with Percy's refusal of immortality, not for the fact of it, but because it was so obviously done for Annabeth that I felt like I was watching the Disney cartoon of Hercules and we'd get a reprise of "Where I Belong" as Hercules chooses Meg over an immortal life. It's the obvious ending, but somehow, I thought it could be made to be a bit more original. Ah well. It's still charming, if predictable, and one only wonders how Percy will deal with hormones and sex now that he's sixteen and in a stable relationship. He's such a clueless gentleman that it was a bit unrealistic; he might have been a bit confused when it came to Rachel vs. Annabeth at first, but we all knew who would triumph in the end, provided she didn't die. I suppose the kid did have other things to worry about, but really, Riordan might have allowed the gods to sleep around, but there was no touching upon that idea when it came to their half-blooded children. Also on the list of somewhat disappointing things: Pandora's jar. I rather like the Pandora myth and while the jar plays a crucial role, I thought it was underused. Also underused were characters like Achilles and certain Titans. I suppose that Riordan has to keep a few things tucked away if he's going to write another series, though, so perhaps they'll reappear.

Originally, I started reading these books with the excuse that I was reading to screen them for my godson. He's a little young for these books right now, I think, but I'll still pass them along and send him some cash so he can take his mom out to see the first Percy Jackson movie when it comes out soon. Hopefully he'll appreciate the Greek mythology and with the help of his parents, we can get him hooked on history. If nothing else, that's the real value in these books -- Riordan's enthusiasm for the myths is infectious and I hope it inspires a generation of readers to enjoy the stories. If you're looking for a series of books that's enthralling and captivating, but your young reader is just a little too young to appreciate Harry Potter, then I think you've found the right thing to help get them there. While operating at a slighter lower reading level, there's still great depth for the reader who wants it (though that mostly points to the real myths). The characters aren't terribly complicated and these books don't function on the premise that you've got all the clues to figure out the riddle by the end of the book. Usually, the kids are flailing along and stumble upon a solution. Just the same, they're fun and fast-paced. I enjoyed them and if Riordan comes out with another series that features Percy, Annabeth, and their friends... well, if my godson doesn't beat me to them at that point, then I think he can bet that I'll hand them along to him once I'm finished.