Fairytales for Wilde Girls by Allyse Near

Review

Fairytales for Wilde Girls is a book I went from being thoroughly engrossed in, to thinking it was overwritten, to admiring the luscious descriptions, to feeling a little put off by easy sentimentality, to absolutely loving the bubblegum-goth inspired descriptions, to cringing at a little too much heroine idolising. And yet, Fairytales is a glorious mish-mash of old and young, sweet and bitter, light and dark, classic and unique - so I guess my mixed feelings are quite adequate. Ultimately I quite admire it. It's the kind of writing I was doing and wanted to do in all my own creative writing uni classes, but always felt repressed by students and tutors who wanted serious, hip, navel-gazing statements - 'serious' writing that could only be taken 'seriously' if it was socially and culturally 'serious'. Meanwhile I was writing about trees that uprooted themselves and set off on magical adventures to find water. Fairytales for Wilde Girls speaks to the unadulterated, dreamer me who just wanted my writing to be beautiful.

I do admire creative license when it comes to writing, and lush, creative imagery - although a few instances throughout the book I thought, just a little, it was trying too hard. This relentless style of imagery does suck you in, though, added to the delicious contempo-magic world of Isola. Can a book be gothically sweet? Yes, this one is. It is very whimsical. Although I wish the author had pared back a little when it came to the ending, and tying the story together - it was overly-described, and thus I thought some of the beauty of it was lost.

Fairytales for Wilde Girls is set in among all the things I love - magic, gothic, fairytales, folklore, faerie creatures, coming of age, wicca, secrets, escaping to fantasy places. I love the idea of the six princes, and of having faerie confidants that no one else can communicate with. There are so many ideas here, and they are tied together in a very enthralling way.

The only sub-plot I didn't really care for was Edgar. So Isola got her happily ever after? But for a book that had a very strong feminine, female-orientated focus, I didn't really think the book needed to end with a love declaration to a male character. That is very paranormal-romance for me, and I believe Fairytales was Isola's personal growth story, not a love story.

I love that Random House (my own publishers) have the guts to publish something so unique, risky, and unusual. I don't know if I love it, but I love what it's all about

Beautiful Creatures (Caster Chronicles 01) by Kami Garcia & Margaret Stohl

Review

I chose Beautiful Creatures as my easy holiday read for a recent trip to Hawaii. 'Yes', I thought at the airport, 'A Ya gothic paranormal-romance read, that does sound like perfect escapism for a twelve hour plane trip, no stops.'

Hmmmm.

Instead, I wanted to escape the book. I read it through to the end because I do not like letting books defeat me, and I didn't want to miss out on a big reveal or anything that would happen that was so amazing it would make reading this book worth it.

My main problem with Beautiful Creatures is that it kind of sits at one level for it's one trillion pages (exaggeration). Nothing really happens. At least, I can't remember anything happening. The idea is a good one but the execution was kind of boring. The characters didn't grab me, in fact the only one I think who makes any kind of bang is Ridley.

And our two love interests - well, they don't have the smultzy teeney love stuff that I find commonly infuriating in paranormal YA, but they don't really have any sparks either. I honestly just didn't care how their relationship would end up by the end of the book; the stakes weren't high enough, and trying to connect their love story with the historical love story as played out by the ghosts in the locket - well, sorry, but I don't think much depth was added there either.

The writing is decent, the ideas great, the gothic atmosphere has a definite allure - but the story is dull. I understand there is a lot to build on in the future books, but I found Beautiful Creatures to be written a little lazily, and I don't have much inclination to follow the series through.

The Feathered Man, by Jeremy de Quidt

First published in Australia in February 2013

Jeremy de Quidt's first children's novel, The Toymaker, blew me away when I first read it and quickly became one of my favourite children's books ever. The Feathered Man is much of the same - beautiful writing, mature ideas, grim and gritty action, memorable characters and an adventure story that rarely takes a breath for the whole length of the book.

I really enjoyed it; the only thing is the book is in that in-between stage of 'is it for teens or kids'? As an adventure story it's perfect, because I think it would completely suck kids in. The two lead characters, Klaus and Liesel, are compelling and easy to cheer on. De Quidt's pacing, his plot twists, the thrills and chills, and all his strange and wonderful characters are enthralling. But it is dark. A lot of the characters meet grizzly and often unfair deaths, and the writing is genuinely scary. I think many of the concepts about the after-life and the quasi-reality world Klaus slips into will also go over kid's heads.

In a nutshell, The Feathered Man is about a tooth-puller's boy called Klaus who lives in a German town. When his master goes to pull the teeth from a dead man at Frau Drecht's lodging house, he discovers a diamond, and steals it. But Frau Drecht and her beastly son want it for themselves. And a Jesuit priest and his Aztec companion want it for their own reasons. But so does the Professor of Anatomy and his protoge. Then there's the young girl, Liesel, who needs it to stay out of trouble. And then, of course, there's the Feathered Man who the whole mess revolves around. So who will get the diamond first?

As you can probably tell, De Quidt has a big cast of memorable, dastardly, unique characters. As in his first book, they are all gothic-inspired, and they all play a part in the chase for the diamond. De Quidt sure knows how to wring out menace and atmosphere. He is also an old hand (or maybe that's his editors!) at perfectly-placed chapter endings and openers - you will want to read on and on. The pacing is quite relentless, and this, combined with De Quidt's descriptions of the cold, inhospitable city, creates just the right amount of sinister atmosphere.

I thought The Feathered Man did not quite have the same emotional resonance as The Toymaker - some moments in that were so beautifully cold they were exquisite. But it is, even just on execution of such an imaginative concept, equally as stunning. I really don't know who to compare De Quidt's work with - he reminds me somewhat of the darker Grimm or H.C.Anderson fairytales. Darkly beautiful, and highly recommended.

Talina in the Tower by Michelle Lovric

First published in 2012

Michelle Lovric is one of my favourite children’s authors working today.  I have been a big fan since I read her first children’s novel The Undrowned Child – her story-telling skills are top notch. Talina in the Tower, like Lovric’s two books before it, is written with imagination, intelligence, humour that snaps and loving attention to Venice and its history. If you truly want to escape, her books are your means to.

Talina in the Tower is set in late nineteenth-century Venice. It is described with gothic flare; on the brink of disaster and inhabited by frightened people and even more frightening creatures. I really enjoy Lovric’s cast lists. Talina is populated with vultures, sarcastic rats, cat gangs, Ravageurs (think evil, malformed wolves) and human characters even more quirky and strange than the creatures roaming about all around them. All Lovric’s characters have this gorgeous pantomimic quality this is endearing rather than over-the-top. I am actually jealous of some of the amazing character creations she comes up with. She obviously takes great joy in crafting their dialogue and it is fantastic stuff.

Talina is along the Teo mould from The Undrowned Child: wilful; clever; impudent, temperamental and brave. She has a huge heart and is wonderfully resourceful. I love girl characters like this. She is the perfect character to go on this adventure with. I also love how Lovric can so easily make ‘evil’ characters multi-faceted with just a few paragraphs.

The story is plot-heavy and full of twists and turns. It is dark and doesn’t shy away from barbaric or mature themes. But this is where Lovric’s wonderful humour kicks in. She has a great knack for capturing peripheral action, and there are some brilliant asides and observations from characters who are observing the main action (the story is told in third person). She also makes Venice and its history alive and interesting, and manages the perfect balance of fact and fiction. It took me a while to open up the book, because I knew how dense Lovric’s books can be (in a good way). But once I started reading Talina I was hooked.

If it sounds like I’m raving it’s because I am. Lovric has some of the best children’s writing out there. I only wish my own books reach the same imaginative highs as hers.

Night Beach by Kirsty Eagar

First published by Penguin, 2012

It was important to me, that this book be brilliant. Kirsty’s Raw Blue is still one of the best YA books I’ve ever read. Night Beach covers similar territory - teen angst, identity, the beach, very Australian. I was so ready for her lovely writing, characters and story to sweep me away.

I admire the ambition of Night Beach. I think its gothic inclinations are rather beautiful – the imaginative ideas, the way they gel with the contemporary story. But I feel as if it wasn’t a successful melding, and I can’t really say why. I don’t know, I think it’s a mix of being a little too overwrought, a little too long, maybe even not feeling Eagar’s confidence with what she was doing. It might be that I think it all got a little indulgent? Whatever it is, I found (in the second half of the book especially) that it all got a little overdone and overworked, and all the single lovely things I’d enjoyed about the first half of the book all got a little eaten up by the complexities of the second half.

There are some Raw Blue moments that I really loved. Some of Abbie’s thoughts, the way the atmosphere builds and heightens, especially in a terrific scene that simply involves Abbie in her house, trying to walk upstairs. Wow. The gothic-flavoured moments of dread are electrifying. Of course, being a lover of the sea, I enjoyed once again the idea of Abbie drawing comfort from the ocean. Sometimes even I can’t explain my emotional connection to the sea, but hey, Eagar does it for me. She really gets that unknowable, sometimes terrifying power the ocean can have, and it heightens the atmosphere in the book.

I think Night Beach could have done with an extra edit. I would have liked to see all the little sub-plots (the baby-sitting, the Hollywood thing, her Dad and the new baby) tied together, or worked into the gothic narrative a bit more. The painting sub-plot is really the only thing that is worked fully and successfully into the supernatural elements. Also, the whole mystery surrounding Kane and the boys and what happened on the island – perfectly plausible, but I think I wanted something more.

I understood where Abbie was coming from; that deep, consuming ache for someone. But I wanted to shake her a little. I did find her a bit tedious at times; Carly in Raw Blue was full of emotional baggage but she was never, er, pathetic. But I understood her attraction to Kane, and I think her longing was captured realistically.

Hmm. An ambitious, unique, and frequently lovely book. Not 100% sold though.

The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman

This edition published in hardback by Bloomsbury, 2008.

I do love me some Neil Gaiman - he has done some terrific, wacky, original and touching (especially his shorter fiction) stuff over the years. And as a lover of children's fiction, The Graveyard Book has been on my radar since its release - even if I've only got to it now!

On the night his family is murdered, a toddler wanders into a graveyard, where the ghosts and supernatural residents who live there agree to raise him as one of their own. Bod, as he is named, grows up with all the dangers and adventures possible in a graveyard, but he is not allowed to leave - or the man Jack, who killed Bod's family, will kill Bod too.

Although The Graveyard Book was all the things I thought it would be - clever, magical, well-written, quirky - for me it lacked an emotional punch. I wanted it to kind of chew up all my emotions, as well as my imagination - like the best fantasy does. But I feel like it never quite got there.

Although certainly creative and well-written, I think the way The Graveyard Book is written might be part of the reason why I never really fell in love. It's very episodic, each chapter concerning an event every two years in Bod's life, with the threat of the man Jack hanging loosely over everything. Each chapter could be a short story, in fact I'm sure I have read some of the chapters in short story compilations, and all throughout the book I was in that weird, sometimes annoying state of going, 'I'm sure I've read this before.'

Gaiman's books have such a wonderful folklorish feel to them, and that is certainly present here. It's a special kind of gritty whimsy. The chapters about the ghoul-gate and the danse macarbe are the best kind of creepy and lovely respectively. That sense of the other, of longing for fantastic worlds just out of reach, is done with a great sense of understanding and love.

Gaiman's secondary characters are always a joy - I especially had a lot of love for Silas, Miss Lupescu and Liza. They are the kind of strange, mysterious and charming characters we make stories about as a kid. They, and others, provide just the right amount of wisdom and fun.

There are, of course, obvious metaphors - namely Bod growing up and learning about the world outside the graveyard, learning from his own mistakes, is reflective of any young person's journey into the unfamiliar world of adulthood. This is never done in twee or over-the-top ways. Bod is often thoughtless and makes mistakes but we see throughout the book how he learns from them and respects those he does ask for advice. The mistakes he makes always seem justified because we are put so fully in his head that we understand them - this is great, effective writing. Bod is quite an endearing little character and we see how his life and actions are enriched by others.

The Graveyard Book is lots of fun with some widsom and depth to boot, but not quite the emotional attachment to tie it all together. Book two in my quest to read 10 children's classics before the end of the year. Recommended.

The Demon Collector, by Jon Mayhew

First published by Bloomsbury, 2011.

From the get go, we are straight into the action. Edgy Taylor is no one much, cleaning up poop on the streets of London and working for his brutal and abusive master in a tannery. He is saved from this life by a curious old man and taken back to the Royal Society of Daemonologie. They want him, Edgy Taylor – because he has the ability to see Demons in their true form. But they also want something else ...

It’s not long before he is embroiled in the mysterious and often deadly goings on in the strange, eerie building the society calls home. Here he has constant run ins with demons, both malignant and benign, sulky ghost girls, the library snake, pompous members of the society who just can’t seem to accept him, and, most important of all – constant attempts on his life. What is it about Edgy that sees him hunted throughout the society, the streets of London, across the sea and into icy caverns? With the help of his few friends and his own wits, he must find out ... before he runs out of chances.

For kids, The Demon Collector pushes all the right buttons – Mayhew has got his formula down pat. A constant chase, chapters that almost always end on a cliff-hanger, great adventure, intriguing settings, colourful characters. There is great fun to be had and more than a few thrills and grisly bits to satisfy those more gruesomely inclined. As it is, I am always going to compare it to Mayhew’s first book, Mortlock – a great first novel, and one that I really enjoyed. Formulaically, this book is very similar, but I think it lacks the great atmosphere that so pervaded the first. It is perhaps not quite as ‘fresh’, but that’s to be expected. As an adult reader, I also found the stylistic choices/formula a bit obvious – I could predict just about every outcome and felt like I was being ‘pushed’ into feeling things, which doesn’t sit so well. But that’s just really me being cynical. For a kids audience, particularly those slightly resistant readers, this kind of encouragement is perfect.

I do wish the two major deaths could have been drawn out a little more – the big baddies need a big send-off! Mayhew does baddies well – they are suitably larger than life and creepy and constantly seeming to change alliances. The demon mythology Mayhew draws on to tell his story is just enough – interesting spin but never bogs down the plot. Also, I loved the demon Slouch.

Really works as a companion novel to Mortlock. I feel like Mayhew knows his stories and knows how he wants to tell them and just goes for it. If Mortlock’s emphasis was on gothic creepiness, The Demon Collector feels more like a mystery adventure. A good, fun and creepy read. Does just what it should.

The Raven Mysteries, #1 Flood and Fang

By Marcus Sedgwick

#1 First Published in 2009 by Orion

Ooooh, The Raven Mysteries. I love it when you discover a terrific kids series. This one’s been out for a couple of years now but it’s only just recently been on my radar – a series of books narrated by a cranky raven? Yeah, I’m down for that. An ancient, gothic-style castle? Defs. And an assortment of oddballs, lunatics and fruitcakes that inhabit this castle? Totally. And the first book, Flood and Fang, was a fun, easy and quirky, with gorgeous illustrations perfectly suited to the tone of the book. There is great delight taken in the silly and the ridiculous, turning oddity and quite often stupidity into one big, enjoyable laugh.

The real drawcard is Edgar, the Raven, who is lovely and funny and bitter and arrogant in all the right amounts, although I do have a soft spot for cranktastic ravens, having written a novel about one myself. His voice and narration gives Flood and Fang a great novelty factor – I’m not sure if it would lose some of its charm further into the series, but for the moment take great pleasure in his witty asides and comical derring-do. Of course Edgar is the hero of the book, as he should be, but he does it all with a great deal of irony and world-weary air. If I was Solstice, I would totally fall for his postures of noble pain.

The only real thing lacking in Flood and Fang was a sense of emotional attachment – this is a great read – fun and funny – but it is all so breezy nothing deeper ever really sinks in. But for this series, I don’t think it has to. The focus is on the humour and the adventure and the oddities in and around the castle. Maybe as the series develops it becomes easier to understand and even get attached to the Otherhand family, but to begin with, as we view them through Edgar’s already familiar and slightly distasteful eye, they are really just a set of characters whose self-centeredness and stupidity are really just there for Edgar’s discriminating judgement.

But you know what – this is the Edgar show, and read these books for him. If I was a lady raven, he would totally be to die for ;) A fun and fabulous read with adventure for the kids and more than a few sly, knowing asides for the adults.

The Folk Keeper, by Franny Billingsley

This edition published in April 2011 by Bloomsbury. First published in 1999.

STORY:

At the request of Lord Merton, Corinna has been asked to abandon her position as Folk-Keeper for Rhysbridge Home to take it up again in the bigger and grander Cliffsend Manor in the Northern Isles, where the Folk are said to be exceptionally wild. She is to spend her days in the dark cellar, placating the folk and taking their furies upon herself. But gradually Corinna will learn that the folk are not the only ones with powers, and she will finally learn the truth about herself in the caverns and passages of Cliffsend. She must also deal with the jealousies and resentments of Sir Edward, and the easy charm of the red-haired Finian.

BACKGROUD:

Read this one because of all the buzz Billingsley’s latest novel, Chime, was getting. Also because there were Folk and the chance of a sea creature or two, and gothic-style settings and a narrative voice with just the right amount of cynicism and acerbity. Corinna and the closest thing she has to a friend, Finian, are the real winners in The Folk Keeper. Great characters with a real chemistry and relationship pitched almost perfectly (except the end was a little rushed, I thought). I loved the presence of the Folk and the idea of a ‘Folk-Keeper’ although I agree with a few other reviews I read that this storyline and Corinna’s own personal story did not quite gel.

CHARACTERS:

Loved the Folk in this one – there is something very appealing about characters you can’t see – their presence here shadows the pages of the book, giving it a lovely, at times creepy, magical feel. Sir Edward I really enjoyed as a character – he had some flesh to him, some baggage, and didn’t feel like just a token baddie. Corinna I also loved – she comes across as quite cold on paper but because we know what’s going on inside her head, we understand why she works to cultivate this image for herself. I enjoyed her little snide asides and dry commentary – it gave her a bit of spark. She is unapologetic – I like this. I like that Billingsley doesn’t feel the need to make excuses for her. Finian is also hard to dislike, mostly because we see he brings out positive sides to Corinna, in addition to his being easy-going and amiable. The way their relationship develops from friendship to love is refreshing in a YA market dominated by intense, two-second  all-consuming love. Other characters like Lady Alicia and Old Francis and even the hounds also feel like just enough.

STYLE:

Quite a whimsical little book and the language is perfectly suited to it.  There are some pretty turn-of-phrases – the book kind of dances along. There is a sense of it being passed on in whispers. Not usually a fan of narratives told through diary entries but it isn’t obvious here. What it does instead is add an immersive, confidential quality, entices you to lean closer and keep turning the pages. The Folk Keeper reads like a folktale, it has that classic feel to it, but it is also infused with touches of the gothic, and for the most part this works well.

CONCLUSION:

Unique. Magical and just a little bit gothic. Definitely enough to make me want to read more of Billingsley’s work. Also don’t be fooled by the short length – this isn’t a breezy read. I recommend taking time to let all its little whimsies and intricacies sink in.

Winter's Shadow, by M.J. Hearle

First published by Pan Macmillan in June 2011

"Blake Duchamp

He's all that Winter Adams can think of. Ever since their fateful meeting at Pilgrim's Lament. Ever since he looked at her with those emerald eyes. Ever since he saved her life."

Sounds familiar, right? The usual paranormal romance set-up? Well, it is. I've read and reviewed so many in the past couple of years, they all kind of blur into the other. But great advance reviews and the Aussie/male author aspect made me pick this one up, and to Hearle's credit, I read it in a couple of days, which is indeed becoming a very rare thing for me to do!

So, Winter's Shadow. Chapter lengths are great - really incite you to read on, end on a high, aren't cluttered with too many things happening at once. I know this might be a weird thing to pick out, but it really enhances the reading experience. Hearle does some great scene setting, with some genuinely spooky moments (like Winter alone in Blake's house) and an undertone of creepiness that pervades the page. I know the word 'atmospheric' gets thrown around a lot, but it applies genuinely to Winter's Shadow.

I also enjoyed the mythological/historical take - there are some great ideas happening with the Skivers and Winter's ability to predict/see a person's life span through their eyes. I read Hearle is planning a sequel, so I hope he expands on this a little more, as it has fascinating potential.

Blake was the more interesting of the two main characters, and I actually really would have loved to read the book entirely from his perspective, or otherwise just cut his parts out. As it is, the story would still be fine and coherent without them.

Winter is okay, but I feel she is just a teeny bit like other paranormal romance heroines to really leave a mark. Sometimes I really just want these chicks to be stronger; in themselves and in the role they play in the relationship. I don't want them to surrender all of who they are to their love interest. And I also would have liked for Blake and Winter's relationship to develop further through actual interaction. There is of course a whole dimension added when there is a mythical or outside influence drawing two characters together, but to cement it, to enhance it, their still needs to be some face-to-face get-to-know-you time.

I also think a few show-don't-tell edits would have enhanced the compelling, creepy feel of the book.

But in general, Winter's Shadow is a strong addition to the para-YA fold, and a welcome effort from an Aussie. Hearle can more than hold his own against the Lauren Kate and Claudia Grays of this world (thank GOD!). A fun and fast read, and I hope it does well.

Mortlock, by Jon Mayhew

Published in hardback by Bloomsbury, 2010

Mortlock opens with three explorers – Mortlock, Chrimes and Corvis – in an Abyssian jungle, on a quest to find the amaranth flower. The amaranth is the key to eternal life and has the power to raise the dead. Bruised and battered, they eventually find it but its power frightens them and leads them to make a vow: leave it where it is, and tell no one of its whereabouts.

Three decades later and we cut to Josie, a knife-thrower in magician The Great Cardamom’s stage act. We also meet a boy called Alfie, who is an undertaker’s assistant. The two discover they are twins and find themselves caught up in the mystery of the Amaranth and all the grisly havoc it wreaks – including the living dead, the death of loved ones, three terrible aunts who take the form of crows, the evil intentions of the now deformed Corvis and an encounter with a ghastly circus out in the swamp.

Mortlock is a great read. The thing I enjoyed most about it is that it doesn’t demean its intended audience – this is gothic horror for kids, and you know it from the get go. There are many gruesome deaths and macabre scenes and evil intentions directed towards these two kids. It is counteracted with some great scene-setting, a driving pace and some enjoyable, crazy characters – just perfect for this kind of book, and contributing just the right amount to the story.

There are a few problems. I thought the ending could have been a bit more of a grand finale – maybe a bit longer and of a larger scale to suit the scope of the story. The plot and dialogue are at times a bit predictable. I knew how the story was going to turn out long before I read the last pages. Still, it was enjoyable getting there.

As a story of adventure and terror, Mortlock ultimately succeeds. It feels and reads like what it should – a tale of gothic horror. Atmosphere pervades the big set-pieces, like the dank city streets when Josie and Alfie get chased by ghuls; the soggy, swampy marshlands home to Lorenzo’s circus; or the interior of the crow-infested Lord Corvis’ mansion.

I am almost always thoroughly impressed by the kids series Bloomsbury publishes. They are usually stories of creativity and adventure, beautifully designed and packaged and just really good fun (I highly recommend the Septimus Heap series). Mortlock is a great addition.

The Toymaker, by Jeremy de Quidt

hardcover, published by David Fickling Books, 2008.

I can think of no better book to kick off my first post than The Toymaker, by Jeremy de Quidt. I first came across it in the children's book section of the University of Melbourne Library (oft visited when I really should have been rummaging about trying to find books that I could quote to support my otherwise crappy arguments about post-structuralist literary theory).

It was the cover that drew me in - I had never heard of the book but I thought, that book looks like a classic. And I truly hope that time may prove me right, because this is a gorgeous book, with just the right mix of old-fashioned story-telling and heartbreakingly beautiful concept that should see it achieve 'classic' status. The story drew me in from the get go and I've rarely stopped thinking about it since.

This is the concept of The Toymaker: What good is a toy that will wind down? What if you could put a heart in one? A real heart. One that beat and beat and didn’t stop. What couldn’t you do if you could make a toy like that? What follows is a story of fabulous, gothic-inspired characters, a chase/pursuit big on menace and tension and some truly dark, atmospheric moments. But what I loved was the exquisiteness of this book - the innovation, the sinister motivations, the conviction of the story-telling and authorial voice.

The opening chapter is a masterful example of inviting the reader into the story, inviting them to be a part of it, invest in it. And it moves swiftly on from there, with just the right amount of moments where you have to go back and read passages of prose because of the clarity they provide.

The Toymaker has a very gothic tone, some quite scary/violent moments and some graphic descriptions. It may not be suitable for all children. But it is a stunning book, beautifully produced, with a final revelation worth sticking around for.

"Even little dolls with sparrows' hearts sometimes remember they were sparrows once."