And The Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini – A Review from Booktopia’s Andrew Cattanach

Bestselling author Khaled Hosseini returns to our shelves with his hugely anticipated third novel. On the eve of its release, Booktopia’s Andrew Cattanach casts an eye over it.

Maya Angelou once said “The desire to reach for the stars is ambitious. The desire to reach hearts is wise”. Whether Khaled Hosseini has heard that sage advice is unlikely. That he shares the same view, however, is all but certain. His new novel And The Mountains Echoed shares the same heartbeat as his previous works, but instead of reaching for the stars he appears to have developed through regression, at least from an emotional standpoint. His latest offering, while boasting a globe hopping narrative and an array of multi-generational characters, is a measured, tender, and still powerful exploration of what makes us tick.

Hosseini is one of the world’s most celebrated writers, with a body of work that includes the worldwide best seller The Kite Runner and the acclaimed 2007 book A Thousand Splendid Suns. Both books examined the inner workings of the human condition. Powerful themes of loss, love, power, redemption, all set against the turbulent backdrop of Afghan history. Spanning generations, both books came with heart-wrenching emotional conflict, epic in every sense of the word.

While And The Mountains Echoed is a weave of incredibly powerful tales, Hosseini skilfully pulls back the reigns on an all out emotional roller coaster, allowing the story to unravel bit by bit. We begin in 1952, as Kaboor, is telling his 10-year-old son, Abdullah, and little girl, Pari, a fantastical tale about a child taken from its family under wrenching circumstances. The father makes a brutal pilgrimage to mountains to rescue his son, only to find the boy is being raised in paradise. He leaves him there.

It sets the scene, as much of the book chronicles the agonizing choices we all make in extraordinary circumstances around the people we love.

Young Pari is swiftly cut away from her poor family to join an upwardly mobile one, triggering the novel’s slingshot trajectory between Afghanistan, France, Greece and California and back and forth across the decades up to the present.

Pari may be the book’s protagonist but she is not its obvious star. Between an alcoholic poet married to a closeted gay man, a surly but heroic nurse, a sentimental man-servant, a selfless plastic surgeon, and others variously introduced via posthumous letters, media interviews and sweeping recollections, Pari barely makes a peep once the novel gets a move on.

I won’t go any further, but it’s not as chaotic as it sounds. The ball keeps rolling and each character enters and leaves at the perfect time, never halting the pace and progress of the novel.

Many have questioned if Khaled Hosseini could continue his impossibly high standards after his previous two works. And incredibly he has, with a beautiful, confident novel told by a true master. The Kite Runner might have been a fluke, A Thousand Splendid Suns a coincidence, but And The Mountains Echoed will surely solidify Hosseini as one of the greatest novelists in the world today.

Click here to buy And The Mountains Echoed from Booktopia,
Australia’s Local Bookstore

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Andrew Cattanach is a contributor to The Booktopia Blog and was shortlisted for The Age Short Story Prize. He enjoys reading, writing and sleeping though finds it difficult to do them all at once.

You can read his other posts here, and follow his ramblings on twitter at @andrew__cat.

REVIEW: ‘Daughter of Smoke and Bone’ and ‘Days of Blood and Starlight’ by Laini Taylor (Review by Sarah McDuling)

Days of Blood and Starlight is the second book in what has to be the most wildly imaginative and beautifully written Urban Fantasy series I have come across in a long, long time.

There was a time I’d have said Urban Fantasy was one of my favourite genres. But then along came a multi-million dollar book/movie franchise that will remain nameless (cough, cough, Twilight, cough) that was so insanely – dare I say inexplicably – popular that suddenly the market was flooded with books about vampires, werewolves, angels, demons etc. Unfortunately, so many of them were so amazingly awful that the genre was effectively ruined for me. Before long, I reached the stage where just thinking about Urban Fantasy caused me to start humming the Gotye song, “Somebody I Used to Know”.  When asked to express my thoughts on my once-beloved genre, I routinely responded with an exaggerated yawn and a dismissive “meh”.

Then along came Laini Taylor and Daughter of Smoke and Bone

I heard a lot of hype about Daughter of Smoke and Bone when it was published back in 2011. Friends recommended it to me – friends whose opinion I normally trusted. Then, too, the cover of the book was very pretty, which should not influence me but always does. I decided that I might be ready to give Urban Fantasy another shot, a chance to win back my love. Then I read the blurb and saw that it was about angels and demons and forbidden love and that was all I needed to know. Based on the blurb alone, I decided Daughter of Smoke and Bone was yet another trite, clichéd, predictable example of how a genre I used to love had been spoiled beyond all hope of redemption. Clearly the book was evil. I ran away, screaming.

And then, a few weeks ago, the book was recommended to me again – this time by my Booktopia co-worker and expert on all things Fantasy/Sci-Fi, Mark Timmony. Our conversation went a little something like this –

Mark: “You should read Daughter of Smoke and Bone. It’s pretty good.

Me: (backing away whilst making the sign of the cross with my fingers) “NEVER!”

But I guess there are only so many times that someone can recommend a book to me before curiosity demands I discover what all the fuss is about. So I caved to peer pressure. I read Daughter of Smoke and Bone. And as soon as I had finished it, I wanted more. I could not get my hands on Days of Blood and Starlight fast enough and was delighted to find that it was even better than the first book.

If you have not read Daughter of Smoke and Bone, I strongly urge you to do so. I say this especially to anyone who, like me, may have given up on Urban Fantasy. If you once loved reading about fantastical creatures and magical, hidden worlds existing alongside our own, but then got sick of it all and quit, a dose of Laini Taylor might be just what you need.

Giving a brief synopsis of this series will only make it sound like a hundred other Urban Fantasy books that you have probably already read (or fallen asleep trying to read). So you’ll just have to trust me when I tell you this Urban Fantasy series is something special. Yes, it’s about angels and demons (or more specifically, seraphs and chimaera) and yes, it includes a subplot of Romeo and Juliet style forbidden romance. But the difference here is that Laini Taylor has an imagination that can best be described as exquisitely grotesque. The world she has created in Daughter of Smoke and Bone and Days of Blood and Starlight is both enchanting and frightening, rich in that special blend of magic and horror that is found in all the old, original fairytales. She matches her gorgeous prose with striking imagery in such a way that her writing manages to paint mental pictures as visually stunning as scenes from a Guillermo del Toro movie.

The Chimaera are beautiful monsters, half human and half animal. The Seraphim are ruthless angels with wings made of invisible flame, seen only in their shadows. These two races have been at war with one another for centuries, while the human race remains blissfully ignorant of their existence. And at the centre of the conflict is a blue haired girl called Karou, who is everything a reader could ask for in a heroine. Brave, strong minded, compassionate and loyal, Karou is no damsel in distress, waiting to be rescued by her one true love. Admittedly, this is mostly because her one true love has become her worst enemy. Still, Karou isn’t the sort to sit around moping just because her boyfriend “did her wrong”. This is why she is made of awesome, while so may other heroines of countless other urban fantasy novels are made of lame.

For those who read Urban Fantasy primarily for the romance factor, strap your boots on for the ride of your life. Karou and her main squeeze, Akiva, have a really spectacularly screwed up relationship. If “forbidden romance” floats your boat, you are going to love these guys. Most of the romance is played out in flashbacks, with the narrative switching viewpoints and time lines so that we get to see both sides of the story – his and hers, past and present. Karou and Akiva’s tale of thwarted love provides an underscore of raw heartache throughout both books, in spite of the fact that they hardly ever see each other in the present time line. In fact, they spend Days of Blood and Starlight fighting on opposites sides of an epic war. There’s no time to make-out. They’re way too busy planning rebellions, resurrecting the dead and love/hating each other from a distance.

Laini Taylor has created a fascinating world, with an equally fascinating history. There is plenty of tension and drama in the war between the races, with a whole host of compelling and original characters on both sides of the conflict. Karou’s best friend Zuzana, and her boyfriend Mik, are a delight to read – funny, cute and very endearing. Meanwhile, the “White Wolf” Thiago is a truly terrifying and repellent villain who, by the end of Days of Blood and Starlight is set up to play a very intriguing role in the next book.

To say that I am looking forward the follow up to Days of Blood and Starlight would be an understatement. With her excellent world building, character driven plots and beautiful imagery, Laini Taylor has reminded me why I used to love reading this genre so much.And while I’m not sure I’m ready to re-commit to a serious relationship with Urban Fantasy, I will say that I’m considering the possibility of something more casual. Perhaps a summer fling?   

Review by Sarah McDuling

REVIEW: Sebastian Faulks – A Possible Life (Review by Catherine Horne)

The day after I finished Sebastian Faulks’s astonishing new novel I sat down to a few episodes of Mad Men. In one of his many moments of boozy insight, Don Draper offers this pearl of advertising wisdom to his protégé Peggy Olson:

‘You are the product. You feeling something. That’s what sells.’

This quote momentarily shattered my nostalgia-fuelled swoonfest as I realised that this is exactly how I feel about Faulks’s writing. It is so popular because it stokes our emotions to such an extent that we become embroiled in the drama of his characters; we become hyper-receptive to the message that he sends; and we want more of it. And I want more of A Possible Life. So much more. I cannot recall ever being so emotionally invested in a novel and that is such an exhilarating experience.

A Possible Life has a unique structure, which serves its purpose very well. The book could possibly be thought of as 5 short stories on a similar theme, however it is probably more apt to consider the theme as the main character, and the 5 stories as examples of this particular theme in action. (Faulks himself refers to the structure as ‘symphony’- distinct movements that contribute to the whole). The novel starts out with Geoffrey, a young English schoolteacher who becomes trapped in some of the most harrowing experiences of the Second World War. We then meet a nineteenth-century British lad with a Dickensian childhood; an Italian neuroscientist from several decades in the future; a maid in Napoleonic France and, finally, a Joni Mitchell-esque music star in the early 1970s.

Although these scenarios may appear to have little in common, they are all ruminations on the directions that our lives take and the experiences that make us who we are. Some form of hardship, loss or tragedy affects each character to a significant degree. However it is their resolve to move on and create new possibilities for themselves – the ‘possible life’ of the title – that gives the novel its thematic punch. Faulks is perhaps at his most brilliant when he writes the more life-affirming segments; they never seem glib or cheesy, but rather recognise the complex layering of experience that forms the basis of the characters’ identities and lives.

And this is why A Possible Life struck such a chord with me. Ultimately we all live with regret, with loss and with heartache, but it is our ability to be affected by these experiences and to move on from them simultaneously which shapes our lives. Sebastian Faulks has an astonishing ability to capture these feelings and mirror them back so that even though you are, on the surface, reading about the fortunes of a 1970s folk star, as you delve a little deeper more your own feelings and memories become intertwined with the characters on the page. It is this personal connection that brings me back to Draper’s quote; the product is not the book itself, but rather your experience of it.

Review by Catherine Horne

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Between a Rock and a Hard Place (Or How Parade’s End by Ford Madox Ford Kept Me From Springsteen) by Hayley Holland

I arrived back from a week’s leave on Monday to find an advance copy of Bruce by Peter Ames Carlin sitting on my desk, absolutely begging to be read. This is where I should admit to being just a little bit of a Springsteen fan, so having the chance to read a new biography before the publication date was like having Christmas arrive early.

Here was my dilemma though; I was already just over half way through a book. I don’t usually read more than one book at a time for two reasons, a) I get confused, and b) I always worry that I’ll put the first one down and never pick it up again. For 3 days Bruce sat next to my bed before I hit on a solution. The book I am currently reading is Parade’s End by Ford Madox Ford, a tetralogy of books. I had 50 pages to go in book two – No More Parades, so I figured I’ll finish book two, put it aside, read Bruce and then go back and read A Man Could Stand Up and The Last Post. Too easy, I thought… How wrong I was!

I have never read anything by Ford Madox Ford and I will freely admit that the only reason I started Parade’s End is that along with my Springsteen obsession, I am also obsessed with Benedict Cumberbatch. Benedict plays the lead character (Christopher Tietjens) in the BBC adaptation of Parade’s End and I am one of those ‘read the book before I see the movie’ people. I’d bumbled my way through what I had already read and to be honest, did not really understand everything that was going on. I even had to download a dictionary app to help me understand some of the words that no one seems to use any more, (‘congeries’ springs to mind) and was counting down the pages until the end of No More Parades.

Then, I found it, that magical scene where you can picture exactly what the character is seeing and can imagine yourself there, right next to them. For me, it was when Christopher is being interviewed by General Campion in regards to the state of his (Christopher’s) marriage to Sylvia. His mind wanders and takes him back 19 months to where he is sitting on some tobacco plants in a field in Belgium, “waiting to point out positions to some fat home general who had never come”. The guy who owns the tobacco had screamed at him due to the ruined plants, in the distance he sees the dark lines of the German trenches and the “white puffs of cotton-wool” that existed on the dark lines – the Allied artillery practicing. He also sees “beneath the haze of light that, on a clouded day, the sea threw off, a shaft of sunlight fell, and was reflected in a grey blur….”, and of course as it happens during war, there are planes and shells and all of the horrid things that follow.

Oh, I thought, this Ford bloke is actually a pretty good writer.

I finished No More Parades and was then torn…. Carry on, or pick up Bruce instead?

I read the first paragraph of A Man Could Stand Up, a paragraph that consists of only one sentence, but my, what a sentence!

“Slowly, amidst intolerable noises from, on one hand the street and, on the other, from the large and voluminously echoing playground, the depths of the telephone began, for Valentine, to assume an aspect that, years ago it used to have – of being a part of the supernatural paraphernalia of inscrutable Destiny”.

“Supernatural paraphernalia of inscrutable Destiny”…..I just love the way those words roll off the tongue. So as you may have guessed, Bruce is just going to have to wait – Christopher, Sylvia, Valentine and the (I now realise) brilliant writing of Ford Madox Ford win this round. I am so thrilled I had the courage to give Parade’s End a go – I’ve even gone as far as adding The Good Soldier to my wishlist.

Review by Hayley Holland

Benedict Cumberbatch

REVIEW: The Iron Wyrm Affair by Lilith Saintcrow (Review by Mark Timmony)

The Iron Wyrm Affair is a brilliant alternate history, told in such a way that it reads like one of Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes movies dropped into the middle of a steampunk fantasy with a side of science fiction. Saintcrow opens with the uneasy introduction of Archibald Clare and Emma Bannon (they are the Bannon & Clare of the series name) and then proceeds to throw the reader head first in a magnificent romp of a detective story and with aspirations of epic fantasy – aspirations it lives up to.

I was hesitant at first as I am not a big fan of Victorian era settings, but Saintcrow does a masterful job of taking the best parts of Victoriana and melding them in a pot of great world building that firmly shifts this tale into its own dimension (we’re not in Kansas anymore Toto). A world where Sorcerers rank above the aristocracy, mentaths are registered servants of the crown and so much back story is hinted at – and approached in a sideways manner – that it had me bursting at the seams for more.

Saintcrow is another one of these authors who seems to have mastered a more ‘economic’ approach to the telling of brilliant fantasy tales in a market that is known for its door-stop sized epics. This is good and bad. You get to the meat of the story faster, and Saintcrow’s writing is smart. She gives you enough without falling into the trap of info-dumping; but what she hints at is what I want more of. I want to know more about the Dragons and the Age of Flame, I want to know more about the sentient and deadly Gryphon’s that serve Britannia – which is both the name of the Empire and an ancient Spirit who inhabits the mortal coil of her avatar (the King or Queen – in the case of this book Queen Victrix [get it?]).

Saintcrow also does a superb job of bringing the city of London to life with her clockwork Altereds, the Black Warks ruled by Mehitabel and the Tower, haunted by the Shadow to name a few.Then she brings it all together in Technicolor with characters that burst from the page. Emma Bannon, Sorceress Prime, has an intriguing back story and behaves in a most unlady-like fashion to fulfill her duty as a servant to the crown; while Archibald Clare, a cross between Sherlock Holmes and Encyclopedia Brown, has more knowledge than sense and over powering curiosity to know which get him in all sorts of bother.

Lilith Saintcrow’s jaunt into steampunk thrusts the reader into a Hatter’s vision of Victorian England flooded with magic and mayhem; where clockwork horses draw hansom’s along cobbled streets, the very presence of a Dragon can twist the fabric of reality, and sorcery and deductive reasoning (of a brain with intel like processing power) are all that stands between a deadly conspiracy and the survival of the Empire.

I can’t wait to see what Bannon & Clare tackle next.

Review by Mark Timmony

Click here to buy The Iron Wyrm Affair from Booktopia,
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REVIEW: The Orchardist by Amanda Coplin (Review by Andrew Cattanach)


Booktopians, I’ve got a real treat for you. Within the folds of The Orchardist, I give you not only Amanda Coplin’s debut as a novelist, but also her debut as one of the most poignant, tender and gripping writers to emerge from the US in many years.

The Orchardist, set in the late 1800’s, tells the story of the tender, if slightly hermitish orchardist, William Talmadge, as he encounters two pregnant, indigent girls, Della and Jane, attempting to steal fruit from his store or better yet, cart. He gives chase and rather than punish them he tries to takes them in and attempts to save them from the darkness that has engulfed them. The girls are both orphans, sharing the same sense of abandonment he feels towards the world when his mother and father died before his 13th birthday leaving him the orchard to run with his younger sister who also left him not long after, stumbling one day into the Cascade Mountain forests to never return.

Despite these parallels the girls are reluctant to trust the gentle man despite his kindness towards them Their history of ritual abuse becomes clear as does Talmadge’s reluctance to give up on the girls.

Rather than be taken in by him they settle on the outskirts of his property, content to steal from Talmadge who allows them to do so, before scattering away to their camp again.

They form an uneasy bond until it becomes clear they weren’t just fending for themselves on the streets that fateful day, but were under the hands of another, a cruel man, the complete antithesis of the caring Talmadge. He wants them back, and he is on the hunt.

If I go any further I risk spoiling the twists and turns of this wonderful novel, so I’ll leave the plot at that. Short to say, the beginning will capture you, the middle will bring you to the edge of your seat and the ending will shock and lead to more questions than perhaps you have answers for, the sign of a truly wonderful novel.

The Orchardist has created quite a stir in the literary world and after reading it I can certainly understand why. Leaving out the awkwardly intense man crush I have on Cormac McCarthy, Amanda Coplin’s prose is at times the most like the Pulitzer Prize winner of any author I’ve read. I simply can’t give her writing higher praise than that. For me that deduction borders on heresy, but there it is.

Coplin uses her considerable skill to utilise every detail of the orchard as a window into the emotional flux that populates the novel at any particular time. The process of raising a crop, from planting the seed to the cultivation and finally the harvest, is crucial in the delicate development of the characters and the story arc. There are also a colourful characters that surround Talmadge who are an absolute joy. I can’t stress enough; this really is a superb book.

So take it from me, beat the buzz. The Orchardist will be knocking down the doors when the gongs are handed out so grab a copy now. Meditate with one of my favourite books of the year and be taken by the journey. You won’t be disappointed.

Review by Andrew Cattanach

Click here to read all of Andrew’s Posts. Click here to follow Andrew on twitter.

Click here to order The Orchardist from Booktopia,
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REVIEW: The Twelve by Justin Cronin (Review by Eboni Robson)

“You decided to re-engineer an ancient virus that would transform a dozen death-row inmates into indestructible monsters who live on blood..?” asks  the Chief of Special Weapons disbelievingly in The Twelve, Justin Cronin’s sequel to The Passage. Answer: Yeah, they did.

If you’re unfamiliar with The Passage, allow me to enlighten you. It begins with a Nobel-Prize winning scientist finding a virus in the depths of a foreign rainforest. With the help of the American government, he then uses this virus on 12 death-row inmates in an attempt to create ‘super soldiers’. In a twist of fate, not all goes to plan and we are taken into a world of destruction when these ‘virals’ or ‘vampires’ take over North America, “spreading in every direction, a 12 fingered hand”.

This is nothing at all like the sweet Edward and Bella interpretation of the vampire myth. Think huge beastly creatures with mouths full of razor sharp teeth and an inhumane and uncontrollable lust for blood.

Before I go any further though, I think I need to put this in perspective. I’ve never been one for a post-apocalyptic novel that follows bloodthirsty ‘vampires’ and naive young protagonists but The Passage and The Twelve had me hooked from the first pages. The way these books have been written makes one seriously consider the possibilities of an Amazonian virus causing havoc on a carefree and selfishly unaware world.

The stories of our favourites from the first book are continued: Amy, Lish and, of course, Zero, the first viral. We follow their struggles as they try once again to build a new civilisation after establishing the Texan Expeditionary force and all of the trials that come with a world still reeling from unimaginable destruction.

But The Twelve starts by going back to the first days of the ‘end of the world’ where we meet a bunch of new characters :

Lila, a young expectant mother initially in so much shock she completely repels the idea that the world is in ruins and death is running rampant.

April, a teenage girl who fights tooth and nail to protect her younger brother whilst navigating a path to freedom.

And Kittridge, known as the ‘Last Stand in Denver’. A man that was forced to leave his stronghold and face the creatures of the night.

Without giving too much away and taking from you the excitement that is reading Cronin’s novels, I can assure you, as a lover of The Passage, you won’t be disappointed by The Twelve. Like its predecessor, this book is written from so many believable perspectives with chapters that have such a flow of diversity, one can’t help but be anxious and enthralled, at the same time, to turn each and every page, leaving you on tenterhooks until the very last sentence.

Number three in this trilogy is no doubt going to be great, (no pressure, Justin).

Review by Eboni Robson

Pre-order The Twelve here

Review: The Twelve Rooms of the Nile by Enid Shomer (Review by Catherine Horne)

It may seem bizarre to imagine that Florence Nightingale provided the inspiration for Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary, yet in The Twelve Rooms of the Nile we are invited to do just that.

Set in 1850, Enid Shomer’s debut novel imagines a blossoming relationship between Nightingale and Gustave Flaubert as they tour the ruins of Egypt. I should make clear that this is a work of fiction; although both Nightingale and Flaubert were in Egypt at the same time, there is no evidence that they ever even met, let alone formed the close bond they do in Shomer’s work. However, in this remarkable piece of alternate history, they find the impetus for their future successes in each other.

Shomer’s Nightingale is achingly unfulfilled and despairs that she will never fulfil what she sees as God’s calling for her. Although she loves her family dearly, she resents their expectation that she make a good marriage, that she be chaperoned at all times and that she always behave with docility. Indeed, there are many instances throughout the novel where she is (sometimes severely) chastised for her exuberance and determination. Nightingale finds an outlet for her unconventional ideas in Flaubert, and the relationship strengthens her resolve to defy the wishes of her family and forge a career in nursing.

Gustave Flaubert

Flaubert, meanwhile, is disillusioned by his early literary failures and devastated by the recent death of his sister. He tends to swing between periods of great despair and great desire, and subsequently many of Flaubert’s chapters are devoted to either depressive ruminations or lurid descriptions of sexual yearnings. Nightingale provides an interesting inspiration for Flaubert’s future literary endeavours as he finds her to be so remarkable that he resolves to focus his next work on a female protagonist. When considered in light of Flaubert’s own sensual proclivities it is possible to see how Nightingale could have provided the inspiration for Emma Bovary, and it is to Shomer’s credit that she develops this so cleverly.

Overall the characters are fascinating and well developed, however it is Shomer’s descriptions of the Egyptian landscape that are the strength of the novel. The dusty, arid landscape makes its wrath known upon the tourists and many times while reading I felt almost as if my own skin were caked in desert sand.

Florence Nightingale

Other scenes, such as one in a foul, mummy-strewn temple elicited a similarly visceral response. The point of this is not to turn anyone off reading the book, but rather to accentuate the immensely descriptive power that Shomer demonstrates in her writing.

Shomer’s Egypt is a land of crushing poverty and rampant disease, of cruel punishments and government corruption. It certainly holds immense beauty for its European visitors, however their awe is largely aimed at the dead civilisation of the Ancient Egyptians and rarely at nineteenth-Century Egyptian society (two major exceptions being the exotic food and, for Flaubert and his companion, particularly exquisite prostitutes). Shomer’s critical approach to the imperialist mentality of her European protagonists makes for a far stronger novel than if this was just left as a quaint aspect of the period setting. As such I found myself drawn into the burgeoning relationship between Nightingale and Flaubert while also considering the broader issues brought out in the novel, and this resulted in an immensely captivating and intellectually satisfying read.

Review by Catherine Horne

Click here to order The Twelve Rooms of the Nile from Booktopia,
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The Twelve Rooms of the Nile

by Enid Shomer

BLURB:

Before she became the nineteenth-century’s heroine, before he had written a word of Madame Bovary, Florence Nightingale and Gustave Flaubert traveled up the Nile at the same time.

In reality, they never met. But in The Twelve Rooms of the Nile, they ignite a friendship marked by intelligence, humour, and a ravishing tenderness that will alter both their destinies.

On the surface, Nightingale and Flaubert have little in common. She is a woman with radical ideas about society and God, naive in the ways of men. He is a notorious womanizer, involved with innumerable prostitutes. But both are at painful crossroads in their lives and burn with unfulfilled ambition.

In Shomer’s deft hands, the two unlikely soulmates come together to share their darkest torments and fervent hopes. Brimming with adventure and the sparkling sensibilities of the two travelers, this mesmerizing debut novel offers a luminous combination of gorgeous prose and wild imagination, all of it coloured by the opulent tapestry of mid-nineteenth century Egypt.

REVIEW: Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl (you’ll find no spoilers here) Review by Sarah McDuling

The thing about Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl is that a) you have to read it and b) you have to avoid spoilers at all costs. There’s a lot of buzz surrounding this book at the moment. People are talking. Whatever you do, you MUST NOT discuss this book with anyone who has read it. If a friend recommends Gone Girl to you and starts trying to tell you what it’s about, you need to block your ears and back away slowly because your “friend” is about to ruin a really great reading experience for you and you need to get away from them right now!

Part crime novel, part suspense-thriller, part family drama, Gone Girl is a difficult book to define. On the one hand, it’s a finely crafted mystery full of red herrings and shock twists. On the other hand it’s a totally original, weirdly addictive and darkly twisted “Un-Romance”. If this book had a theme song it would be Love is a Battlefield. If it was a cocktail, it would be a vodka martini with a twist (served with a sprinkling of anti-freeze). If it were a person, this book would be a really good looking, super charming and amazingly witty knife-wielding-psychopath.

Gone Girl is the kind of book that you should read knowing as little as possible about the plot. Which actually makes it a really difficult book to review. I’m hesitant to say too much for fear that, in my enthusiasm, I might accidentally give too much away.

So. All you really need to know about the plot of Gone Girl is that it is about a man and a woman.

Too vague?

Ok, fine. Gone Girl is about a man called Nick and a woman called Amy. Nick and Amy meet, fall in love and get married. Oh, and then Amy goes missing on the morning of their fifth wedding anniversary and all signs point to foul play.

What happened to Amy? Is she dead? Did Nick kill his lovely wife? Was Amy really as lovely as she seemed? Is Nick a hero or a villain? Don’t look at me for answers. Seriously, don’t. I have no poker-face and I’m trying really hard keep things spoiler-free!

In one sense, the plot of Gone Girl is an incredibly simple one. But it’s not so much what happens in the book that makes it so incredible (even though what happens is pretty gosh-darn incredible), but rather how the story is told. The book is written in split narrative format – switching viewpoints between Nick and Amy, with Amy’s side of the story shown in diary entries.

Now you would think this kind of “he said, she said” narrative style would allow readers to get a clear, unbiased view from both sides of Nick and Amy’s marriage. Yeah. You would think that. Instead, almost from the first switch in viewpoint, it rapidly becomes clear that neither Nick, nor Amy, can be depended on to tell the truth. These are two very unreliable narrators, constantly trying to deceive and manipulate. And yet, even though you know you can’t trust them, they are both so convincing that trying to sift truth from lies becomes a mind boggling game of second guessing everything you are told. And what unfolds as Nick and Amy tell their story is a gloriously twisted, deliciously disturbing tale of love-gone-wrong.

When thinking how best to describe Gone Girl, my mind fumbles around trying to find a word that means both wonderful and disturbing. Amazing and yet also… slightly icky. Amazick?

For instance, take this sentence from the beginning of the book in which Nick describes how he was always fascinated by the way Amy’s mind worked. This is the point at which Gillian Flynn hooked me (i.e. the very first page of the book) -

“Her brain, all those coils, and her thoughts shuttling through those coils like fast, frantic centipedes. Like a child, I picture opening her skull, unspooling her brain, sifting through it, trying to catch and pin down her thoughts. What are you thinking, Amy?”

Now that right there is what you call an “amazicky” mental picture. And that’s only the beginning.

This is a sly, underhanded book, the kind that plays all sorts of sneaky mindgames in an attempt to distract you, misdirect you and then (just when you think you’re starting to figure it all out) pull the rug out from under your feet. Constantly surprising and consistently unsettling and often downright chilling, Gone Girl tracks the disintegration of what I can only describe as one of the most bizarrely dysfunctional, oddly co-dependant and severely messed up relationships ever, in the history of fiction. And yes. I have read Twilight.

The main theme here is Husband v Wife. If love is a battlefield then marriage is shown to be a weapon of mass destruction in Gone Girl. This is a book that asks the deceptively simple question – how well can you really know the person you love? What if you don’t really know them at all? What if they know you better than anyone else in the world, better even than you know yourself?

There is a very good reason Gone Girl is being touted as one of the 2012’s surprise hits. This book is virtually impossible to put down and is slowly creeping up the New York Times Bestseller List. If you check out the list you will find three books ahead of Gone Girl, all with the word “Fifty” in the title. I’m not going to talk about those books because doing so only ever ends with me shaking my fist at the sky and shouting, “WHY?!!?”. Instead, I will focus on #4 and comfort myself with the knowledge that one of the most compelling books I’ve read in ages – a sharply written, genre-defying gem of a book like Gone Girl – is causing such a splash and captivating so many readers.

In short, my advice is that you read Gone Girl and read it fast. Get on it quick, before someone spoils the ending for you! Or before the inevitable movie hits the big screens (the film rights have already been sold with Reese Witherspoon reportedly cast as Amy). And if you enjoy it half as much as I did, Gillian Flynn’s previous two novels ­Sharp Objects and Dark Places will leapfrog straight to the top of your To-Be-Read pile.

Review by Sarah McDuling

Click here to order GONE GIRL from Booktopia,
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REVIEW: Paving the New Road : A Rowland Sinclair Novel by Sulari Gentill (Review by Sarah McDuling)

The only thing better than discovering a new series of books is realising that the author is not going to make you wait too long for the next instalment.

Having been introduced to Sulari Gentill’s Rowland Sinclair novels earlier this year with Miles off Course, and then devouring books one and two with all the gusto of a confirmed historical fiction addict, I was pretty much ecstatic when I realised that book four, Paving the New Road, was due to be released in August this year. My reaction to this news was not quiet. It was not calm. It may have involved a spontaneous happy dance. Imagine a hyper active child being told that Christmas will be coming twice in one year and you might then begin to grasp my level of excitement.

Paving the New Road sees Rowland Sinclair and his band of bohemian eccentrics back in full force. For those unfamiliar with this series, Rowland “Rowly” Sinclair is Gentleman/Playboy Adventurer/Artist/Amateur Detective. Now, as of Paving the New Road he can also add “International Spy” to his already impressive list of accomplishments.

Wherever Rowly goes (in this instance, Nazi Germany) he is accompanied by his entourage – Clyde the landscape painter/staunch Communist, Milton the flamboyant poet and Edna the dazzlingly beautiful sculptress. Having been sent to Germany in the capacity of unofficial spies, Rowly and his friends soon find themselves knee deep in intrigue and subterfuge. The best part about all this is that none of them are even remotely qualified for the role of “secret agent”. They approach the mission almost as though it were a game and their unorthodox methods are both refreshingly original and highly entertaining. Together, Rowly and his friends take a ride on the Orient Express, masquerade as German soldiers, accidentally aid in the escape of a German Communist and become involved in an underground network of Anti Nazi activists. And at the heart of the mystery that slowly begins to unfold is a sad and fragile girl named Eva…

Much like the first three books in the series, Paving the New Road is a light and charming read full of adventure and humour. This book is pure fun. Better yet, it is consistently clever. One of the best aspects of this series is the imaginative way in which the author plays with the historical setting. Gentill is a master at seamlessly weaving real historical figures into her plot. This can be a dangerous conceit when not handled properly. The appearance of a well-known historical figure in a work of fiction can often be the kiss of death, breaking the spell of make-believe by pushing the reader’s credulity too far. Luckily, Gentill knows just how to blend fact and fiction together in a way that is not only completely believable but so delightfully inventive as to provide endless treats for history buffs.

Fans of television’s Underberlly: Razor will be tickled by cameo appearances from notorious Sydney madam Tilly Devine and gangster Phil “The Jew” Jeffs. Similarly, Rowly & Co. are flown to Germany by none other than famous Australian aviator Charles Kingsford Smith – a journey that takes an astonishing 14 days and sees them crossing paths with author William Somerset Maugham.

Other notable historical figures that play key roles in Paving the New Road include German Communist Party member Hans Beimler as well as notorious British aristocrat and Nazi sympathiser Unity “Lady Bobo” Mitford. Gentill is in top form when writing Mitford, who leaps off the page in all her horrifying glory. This is a woman who stalked Hitler like a crazed fan-girl before eventually becoming his mistress. Described by Rowly as “a lunatic, from what appeared to be a family of lunatics” Mitford only makes a few brief appearances in the novel, however, they are memorable for being almost as hilarious as they are disturbing.

By far my favourite guest star, however, is the indomitable Nancy Wake. Anyone who has not already read Wake’s memoir, The White Mouse,will be rushing for a copy after finishing Paving the New Road. The novel is set before the outbreak of WWII when Wake was working as a journalist, however, Gentill imbues her character with so much sparkling vim and vigour than one can easily see how she ends up becoming a kickass lady-spy, fighting Nazis with the French Resistance.

When all is said and done, I cannot recommend the Rowland Sinclair novels enough. Paving the New Road is the most entertaining instalment yet in what was already a great series. Anyone with a taste for classic crime writers like Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers and Ngaio Marsh is bound to fall in love with Rowland Sinclair. And with the success of the recent television adaptation of Kerry Greenwood’s Phryne Fisher series, I’m hoping (i.e. seriously considering starting an Internet petition) that it won’t be too long before we see a Rowland Sinclair miniseries.

In the meantime, I rest easy in the knowledge that Sulari Gentill is currently averaging two books a year and that it won’t be long before I find out what Rowly and his friends get up to next.

Review by Sarah McDuling

Click here to buy Paving the New Road

Find The Rowland Sinclair Novels here

Click here to read an extract from Paving the New Road.

Read Sarah’s review of Miles Off Course here

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