Category: Historical Fiction
The Many Lives & Secret Sorrows of Josephine B. by Sandra Gulland
(Cover picture courtesy of Goodreads.)
Young Josephine Bonaparte shines at the center of a new, sweeping, romantic work of historical fiction by Sandra Gulland: detailed and exhaustively researched, compelling and powerful, The Many Lives and Secret Sorrows of Josephine B. is the first in a trilogy of fictional novels tracing the actual rise of a young European noblewoman who would one day stand next to Napoleon. From the heartbreak of lost loves to the horror of revolution to the hope of new days, it’s an intimate epic any romance lover will love.
Like many people, I never really thought much about Josephine, the immoral wife of Napoleon Bonaparte—at least until I read Sandra Gulland’s take on her. Learning her story from her extremely humble beginnings, to her unhappy marriage to Alexandre Beauharnais and the fact that she just barely survived Robespierre’s Reign of Terror made me really connect with her. She was in business when it was unseemly for women to do so. She divorced her husband—a true rarity of the time! And she also played a huge role in the politics of the time, again despite being a woman. Reading about her early years up to her marriage to Bonaparte really gives you the feeling she was judged harshly by history like many strong women.
I wouldn’t recommend it if you’re in for fast-paced historical fiction, but for those of us that like slowly building tension and intricately plotted narratives combined with vivid imagery it’s a dream come true. It’s told in diary form from Josephine’s perspective, but it never gets annoying like other books told in the same format. From that perspective, we get to see her innermost thoughts as she struggles to deal with life in Paris, far away from her homeland of Martinico. In a loveless marriage with two children she has to look out for we really get to see so many different aspects of her character. We see her savvy political side, her motherly instinct to protect her children and her iron lady side as she insists on doing what’s best for her children and those she loves.
French history isn’t exactly my strong point, especially around the time of the French Revolution, but with a bibliography and a note at the end on historical accuracy, you get the feeling that Sandra Gulland has done her research. As with Mistress of the Sun, even if everything isn’t 100% accurate the main events are and the minor details feel accurate. This is important in historical fiction and I honestly felt like I was transported back in time to Josephine’s terrifying, exciting, constantly changing world. Josephine is most definitely a memorable character and is now one of my favourite historical figures.
I give this book 5/5 stars.
Cleopatra’s Moon by Vicky Alvear Shecter
(Cover picture courtesy of The Book Girl Recommends.)
Princess of Egypt
Cleopatra Selene is the only daughter of the brilliant Queen Cleopatra of Egypt and General Marcus Antonius of Rome. She’s grown up with jewels on her arms and servants at her feet, and she longs to follow her mother in becoming a great and powerful queen.
Prisoner of Rome
Then the Roman ruler, Octavianus, launches a war that destroys all Selene has ever known. Taken to live in his palace in Rome, she vows to defeat him and reclaim her kingdom at all costs. Yet Selene soon finds herself torn between two young men and two paths to power. Will love distract her from her goal—or help her achieve her true destiny?
Epic in scope and ravishing in detail, this novel reveals the remarkable true story of a girl long hidden in history: the extraordinary Cleopatra Selene.
I know you won’t believe it, but I found something in this book that is generally an oxymoron: a believable love triangle. Yes, I found the rarest kind of YA book out there! It’s believable and it resolves itself in the end where the main character makes a powerful decision rather than angsting over who she should choose.
After reading Michelle Moran’s Cleopatra’s Daughter, I thought that Cleopatra’s Moon wouldn’t be much different. But I am so glad I decided to buy Vicky Alvear Shecter’s book! It had a completely different perspective from Moran’s and the sort of antagonist of the novel came completely out of nowhere. Hint: it’s definitely not who you think it is but it makes sense when you look back in the story. Cleopatra Selene comes off as a strong character who comes by her feminism honestly in a world dominated by men, rather than being your stereotypical girl with 21st century perspectives in historical fiction. You can really feel her anguish at her mother’s and father’s deaths as well as the growing distance between herself and her twin, Alexander Helios.
Not only that, the men in her life are quite believable as well. Juba comes off as aloof and thoroughly Romanized in the beginning, but we start to see his strength of character later on. Of course Marcellus is incredibly charming but intelligent as well and a potential path to power for Selene. I like how Selene doesn’t just stand by as boys drool over her; she actively pursues them once she realizes their feelings and tries to reconcile her own. She also has incredible determination when it comes to reclaiming her birthright and that makes her both believable as a daughter of Cleopatra and a character everyone will cheer for.
As for the historical accuracy, I can’t nitpick. Some of the mystery surrounding events at the time allows for a little creative license and Vicky Alvear Shecter doesn’t take it over the top. She fills in gaps with plausible explanations and where there are historical records, sticks to them very well. Her portrayals of historical figures are realistic and you kind of get the feeling that hey, this is what they could have really been like. That, my friends, is great writing combined with great research. What more can you ask for in historical fiction, really?
I give this book 5/5 stars.
The First Man in Rome by Colleen McCullough
(Cover picture courtesy of Avon Romance.)
When the world cowered before the legions of Rome, two extraordinary men dreamed of personal glory: the military genius and wealthy rural “upstart” Marius, and Sulla, penniless and debauched but of aristocratic birth. Men of exceptional vision, courage, cunning, and ruthless ambition, separately they faced the insurmountable opposition of powerful, vindictive foes. Yet allied they could answer the treachery of rivals, lovers, enemy generals, and senatorial vipers with intricate and merciless machinations of their own—to achieve in the end a bloody and splendid foretold destiny…and win the most coveted honor the Republic could bestow.
After reading so many Young Adult books of late, reading something as heavy as The First Man in Rome was a refreshing challenge. Trust me, even if you know your Roman history well, this is a book that you should not read when you’re tired. You will forget all of the plot points.
I first fell in love with Colleen McCullough’s writing after reading The Song of Troy because her portrayals of historical characters were amazing. She made it feel that not only was I alongside these famous people, but that I truly understood them. Well, she does the exact same thing in The First Man in Rome. From Marius’ brilliant leadership in the battlefield to his dismal political career, I really feel like I know the legend as a man. We see the soft side of him when it comes to Julia, his more ruthless streak at the end of the novel and his never-ending ambition to become the First Man in Republican Rome. He’s a larger-than-life character and yet he seems extremely accessible. Contrast that to the brilliant, but debauched young patrician Sulla who develops the ruthless streak he was known for later in life. These two have an unlikely friendship, but it’s one that I absolutely love because it shows that not everything is in black and white.
If you don’t know much about Roman history, I can see where you would get confused by The First Man in Rome. Thankfully, Colleen McCullough includes a well over 200 page index that tells you everything from the English translations of Latin curses (very creative!) to the history behind many of the events characters refer to. But if you’re like me and have someone like Mike Duncan to thank for your knowledge of ancient Rome, you’ll just breeze through The First Man in Rome. In terms of historical accuracy, I can’t pick away at it. Everything is well researched and McCullough does an excellent job of defending her hypotheses in places where there are gaps in the historical record.
I wouldn’t call this a fast-paced book, but it’s not meant to be either. It’s meant to be a sprawling novel in order to draw you in to the cutthroat world of Roman politics and to explore the lives of the main players. The strange thing about Colleen McCullough’s books is that they have this sort of grand, epic feel to them that I can’t quite explain. It’s like you know they’re on par with classic novels, but there’s no sense that McCullough was trying really hard for that ‘classic novel’ status. Her books feel like epic novels in an effortless sort of way and that’s really part of the attraction of her writing: it’s larger-than-life, yet accessible to most readers. That’s why, despite the intimidating length and amount of time I need to spend on them, I’ll certainly be continuing her Masters of Rome series.
I give this book 5/5 stars.
The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne
(Cover picture courtesy of Kids Book Review.)
If you start to read this book, you will go on a journey with a nine-year-old boy named Bruno. (Though this isn’t a book for nine-year-olds.) And sooner or later you will arrive with Bruno at a fence.
Fences like this exist all over the world.
We hope you never have to encounter one.
I wanted to like this book. I really, really did. I mean, it’s practically a classic. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas is studied in classrooms all over the world and it’s even been made into quite a popular movie. It’s supposed to be a touching take on the Holocaust through the naive eyes of a nine-year-old boy. This should be a book I loved.
Obviously it wasn’t if I’m rambling on like this. Throughout the novel, the words ‘trying too hard’ came to mind because of John Boyne’s writing style. He tries to portray an incredibly naive nine-year-old boy but ends up portraying a spoiled, unaware brat. He tries to put an ironic, tragic twist at the end, but it feels contrived. John Boyne just tried too hard instead of letting the story speak for itself. His constant interjections and observations make it seem more like he’s telling the story than truly showing it through innocent Bruno’s eyes. It makes it feel like he expects his readers are idiots who couldn’t infer some of the more subtle themes from the story itself.
I’ve read thousand page books that are less tedious than The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. John Boyne repeats things over and over and over again until it feels like he’s beating you over the head with a stick. Readers are not idiots; they will not forget that Bruno’s father was visited by the ‘Fury’ over only 215 pages. They will also not forget that Bruno is a spoiled brat who matures very, very little by the end of the novel. In the end, he’s still essentially the same ridiculously naive child who seems to lack even basic understanding of the world around him. There’s also the issue of whether Bruno could have even gotten near the fence at Auschwitz without getting spotted by the numerous guards or getting zapped by the electrified fence.
In short, what was supposed to be a touching novel was not. It was patronizing and tedious, just to use two words that come to mind. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas should have been a tribute to those who lost their lives, but ended up feeling like John Boyne wanted a literary award badly.
I give this book 1/5 stars.
Kiya: Hope of the Pharaoh by Katie Hamstead
(Cover picture courtesy of Goodreads.)
When Naomi’s sisters are snatched up to be taken to be wives of the erratic Pharaoh, Akhenaten, she knows they won’t survive the palace, so she offers herself in their place. The fearsome Commander Horemheb sees her courage, and knows she is exactly what he is looking for…
The Great Queen Nefertiti despises Naomi instantly, and strips her of her Hebrew lineage, including her name, which is changed to Kiya. Kiya allies herself with Horemheb, who pushes her to greatness and encourages her to make the Pharaoh fall in love with her. When Akhenaten declares Kiya will be the mother of his heir, Nefertiti, furious with jealousy, schemes to destroy Kiya.
Kiya must play the deadly game carefully. She is in a silent battle of wills, and a struggle for who will one day inherit the crown. If she does bear an heir, she knows she will need to fight to protect him, as well as herself, from Nefertiti who is out for blood.
[Full disclosure: I received a free ebook from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.]
First off, please don’t judge Kiya: Hope of the Pharaoh by the tacky cover. The story is so much better, I promise.
Since so little is known about the real Kiya (we don’t even know if she really was Tutankhamun’s mother), I’m willing to suspend my disbelief at the premise of her being Hebrew. Okay, fair enough. Most theories place her as Nubian, but they’re just theories and I thought the whole premise of Naomi offering herself to Akhenaten to save her sisters was just too good to pass up. After being presented with an Egyptian name, Naomi embarks upon a dangerous journey through the intrigues of a dysfunctional court and an even more dangerous harem.
Now, this great premise would have been ruined if Katie Hamstead’s characterization wasn’t as strong as it is. Naomi/Kiya carries the whole story on her shoulders as she learns to feel affection for and maybe even love Akhenaten, a man she was always taught was evil. She also makes friends and enemies in the harem, the most notable being her rival, Nefertiti. Or rather, Nefertiti considers Naomi her rival and the lengths she goes to in order to preserve her place as Great Royal Wife are incredible. Whenever I picture the real Nefertiti, I can’t help but imagine her as the vain, ridiculously beautiful, scheming woman Katie Hamstead has portrayed. Other notable characters of the time like the ruthless, but oddly considerate Horemheb feel spot-on to me. The characters don’t always appear to be consistent, but the big reveals throughout the story show that they were acting believably the whole time.
The details of ancient Egyptian life are generally accurate, although Katie Hamstead used the modern name of Amarna to refer to Akhetaten. But Akhenaten’s fits, the fact he discarded the old religion in favour of one god and his utter lack of desire to make war are well documented and I couldn’t spot any glaring factual errors. In writing about Akhenaten, Katie Hamstead had quite a bit of leeway as there are very, very few records from the time. Still, I can’t complain about the historical accuracy.
As for the plot, it was quite fast-paced for historical fiction and kept me reading into the early hours of the morning, far past when I should have gone to bed. It was really that good. Naomi was just a fascinating character and her confusion about Malachi and Akhenaten, her hot-cold friendship with Horemheb and the constant threat of Nefertiti’s jealousy kept me on my toes the whole time. Some of the plot twists were predictable, but others (especially at the end) I didn’t see coming. Especially the big reveal at the end involving a certain male character.
It’s that big reveal that makes me want the next book this instant. Although we know generally what happens to Akhenaten and Naomi’s son Tutankhamun from history, I just can’t get enough of Naomi. She’s definitely one of my new favourite characters and I’ve just found a new author to watch because if Kiya: Hope of the Pharaoh is any indicator, we can expect great things from Katie Hamstead.
I give this book 5/5 stars.