Gemina by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff

Rock the Boat | 2016 (20 October) | 672p | Review copy | Buy the book

Gemina by Amie Kaufman and Jay KristoffThis week sees the publication by Rock the Boat of Gemina, the follow up to the spectacular YA science fiction triumph Illuminae. I cannot overstate how fabulous Illuminae is. In fact it’s quite possibly the best YA SF novel I’ve read, although I’d ignore that YA label as this is a book for all ages, both young and less young, to relish. I was so thrilled to be invited to post my review of Gemina as part of the blog tour celebrating its publication on 20 October.

Gemina follows hot on the heels of Illuminae and, although it revolves around a different set of characters in another place, I can’t recommend enough that you read Illuminae first. Everything that happened in Illuminae is revealed in Gemina but, even more than that, don’t deny yourself the treat of reading such a magnificent and original novel. The review below assumes that you’ve already read Illuminae.

Hannah Donnelly is the rather spoilt teenage daughter of the commander of the Jump Station Heimall. Heimall, poised on the edge of a wormhole, is, at least as far as Hannah is concerned, the most boring and remote space station in the universe. It’s fair to say that a number of the adult inhabitants would agree with her. Hannah passes the time being pampered and buying drugs from one of the station’s bad boys, Nik, much to the disapproval of her perfectly manicured boyfriend. At the moment, Hannah is most interested in the outfit she’s bought (that her father bought) to celebrate Terra Day, a big bash that is due to take place in just a few days.

Unfortunately, the most boring space station in the universe is about to become the most lethal as a bunch of baddies choose the day of the festivities to launch a bloody attack. The starship Hypatia is on a desperate run to Heimall and it brings survivors from the invasion of Kerenza. The perpetrators are adamant that nobody on the ship or the space station will live to pass on the sorry tale. Hannah Donnelly and Nik are thrown together to defend Heimall, and not just against the baddies either. If there’s one thing worse than gun-toting mercenaries, it’s aliens.

I was so excited to read Gemina, not least because it provides more of the same of Illuminae‘s fantastic style and structure. Both novels tell their stories through extracts from emails, computer communications, witness accounts, schematics and diagrams. Some of these are used particularly brilliantly, conveying tension, drama or death. Parts are astoundingly clever as well as really witty. You never quite know what you’re going to get when you turn the next page. In one section, two versions of the same story are told on facing pages. So clever! It makes demands on the reader and we are rewarded for the effort with added involvement in this extraordinary adventure and these wonderful characters.

I loved Helen and Nik. I wondered if I could possibly love them as much as I did Kady and Ezra in Illuminae, but I did. There are moments of excitement and tension and there are others of pure horror and disgust. We’re thrown into the thick of it.

I don’t think that Geminae is quite as perfect as Illuminae – to be honest, I think this is impossible, Illuminae is unique in several ways – but it is a fine follow up and I loved every single page, thoroughly enjoying the experience of reading it and being so grateful that we’ve been given a book 2. And the good news is, there will also be a book 3 to look forward to.

Please do yourself the favour of reading these books. Marvel at the skill of the authors, enjoy the company of these fantastic characters, and immerse yourself in the adventure, all set within a remote and, as it turns out, not at all boring region of space.

Other review

I’m so pleased to be part of this tour! For other stops along the journey, please click on the poster below.

Gemina blog tour

A Closed and Common Orbit by Becky Chambers

A Closed and Common Orbit | Becky Chambers | 2016 (20 October) | Hodder & Stoughton | 365p | Bought copy | Buy the book

A Closed and Common Orbit by Becky ChambersBecky Chambers’ The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet was and is a science fiction sensation, totally deserving of all of the love that has been heaped upon it. That fabulous novel became the first of the Wayfarers series, named for those who explored worlds and wonders aboard the Wayfarer. A Closed and Common Orbit continues the story but from a completely different angle – two of the characters from the previous novel have now been removed from the Wayfarer and we follow their story in another place entirely. So, although this second novel overlaps the ending of the first, both stand alone perfectly. Having said all that, why deny yourself the genuine and memorable pleasure of Small Angry Planet?

Lovelace was once the AI of a starship, her scope almost unlimited, her senses keeping watch in every corner of the ship’s interior and looking out beyond the hull into space itself. But now Lovelace is contracted, her mind confined within a ‘kit’, a synthetic body, into which she was placed by Pepper, an engineer and friend. There was no alternative to this physical confinement. But Lovelace is now Sidra, her memories wiped clean, and the body she inhabits is illegal. They travel to Pepper’s home world in the hope that Sidra can create a new life for herself but in order for that to succeed Sidra must learn to be human in a world inhabited by so many different alien species and cultures.

Sidra is not the only lost soul of this novel. We also follow the incredible story of Jane 23, a clone, who is also forced out into a world that feels alien and frightening. Jane 23 and Sidra share a common struggle, to become human, to fit in.

Just as with Small Angry Planet, as soon as I began Common Orbit I was immersed, not only in its marvellous, imaginative worlds but also in its characters’ stories. Becky Chambers is a master storyteller, of this there can be no doubt, and yet again she astounds with the warmth and compassion of her characters, whether they’re Human, Aandrisks, Aeluons, AIs or any of the other species that come out to meet us along the way. Plot is almost secondary here, but nevertheless it is a fascinating one, filled with adventures, moving back and forth between characters, and I couldn’t wait to see how it developed. Yet, most of all, this novel is the literary equivalent of a giant scrummy bear hug.

There is evil in this universe. We can be sure of that and nobody knows it better than Jane 23. But Becky Chambers shows us it can be overcome. Species live together, genders aren’t fixed, religion doesn’t dictate, a hard day at work can be followed by a party. It isn’t easy for our main characters to find themselves, but the journey will be enlightening, albeit potentially dangerous, and it will be an absolute pleasure for the reader.

If I had to come up with one word to described Common Orbit, it would be lovely. There are moments in it that made me cry for its loveliness. It is beautifully written, lovingly created, even the titles of these books are perfect. Science fiction is the ideal medium for this vision – anything can happen, there are wonders to be explored and discovered, possibilities are vast. Becky Chambers is an author who goes straight to the top of my TBR mountain. She is to be cherished and encouraged and I cannot wait for Wayfarers 3 and beyond.

Other review
The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet

Also reviewed at Curiosity Killed the Bookworm

The Devil’s Feast by M.J. Carter

The Devil’s Feast | M.J. Carter | 2016 (27 October) | Fig Tree | 362p | Review copy | Buy the book

The Devil's Feast by M.J. CarterIt is 1842 and London has a new and very grand gentleman’s club – The Reform Club on Pall Mall. Established to provide a home from home for Radicals and Whigs, in direct opposition to the neighbouring Tory Carlton Club, the Reform Club has become famous, rightly so, for its food, all created under the loving eye of London’s first celebrity chef, Monsieur Alexis Soyer, ‘the Napoleon of food’.

Captain William Avery has left his wife and newborn son at home in Devon while he rushes to London to seek out the whereabouts of his good friend and investigative partner Jeremiah Blake, who appears to have vanished in thin air. Avery is pleased to be distracted from the anxiety of worry by an invitation from another friend to dine at the Reform Club as a guest of M. Soyer and, despite Avery’s devout Toryism, this is not an invitation to decline. All goes well – the dinner is superb, M. Soyer is a charming host – until one of the guests leaves the table never to return. He is poisoned! The Club is about to host a high profile and important diplomatic dinner, with none other than Lord Palmerston and the Prince of Egypt in attendance and peace in the Middle East as their goal. The significance of the poisoning cannot be underestimated, and not just for the reputation of the Club and Soyer. Even worse, was this a practice run? The Club’s Board immediately implores Avery to investigate the murder. If only Blake were around to lend a hand.

The Devil’s Feast is the third novel in M.J. Carter’s excellent Victorian mystery series to feature Avery and Blake and I was delighted to return to their company. I’m a big fan of historical murder mysteries and this series has become a firm favourite of mine – for the brilliant characters of Avery and Blake but also for the novels’ evocative and atmospheric historical setting. Each of these novels stands alone very well although, as usual, there are benefits to be had by reading them in order. While the first novel The Strangler Vine captured perfectly the exotic appeal and danger of India, the second novel, The Printer’s Coffin (originally The Infidel Stain), placed us in the workhouses, pubs and prisons of 1840s’ London, with all of the injustice and sadness that this entailed. This powerful sense of Victorian hypocrisy and cruelty continues, I’m pleased to say, in The Devil’s Feast.

The Radicals in the Reform Club might debate change but it’s people like Soyer who actually try to bring it about – offering the chance of employment to London’s poorest, organising soup kitchens in London’s most deprived areas. The club is concerned to facilitate this diplomatic dinner but their eyes have shifted from the causes closer at hand. M.J. Carter doesn’t labour the point, she’s far too gifted a novelist for that, but she makes the reader care about what is going on outside the walls of the Club every bit as much as inside it. Our time in the novel is spent divided between upstairs in the dining rooms and downstairs in the kitchens and the most fascinating characters are arguably to be found below.

There are some wonderful characters in The Devil’s Feast and chief among them is the extraordinary Alexis Soyer, a true historical figure who changed so many things about the ways in which kitchens worked and were run. His life was full of adventure, some of which you couldn’t make up, and M.J. Carter brings him to life.

The relationship between Avery and Blake is always enjoyable and it is again here. Blake in particular is a scene stealer and here there’s something of Sherlock Holmes about him in lots of different ways. Avery is once more our narrator and for much of the time he has a struggle on his hands to work out exactly what is going on.

While I found the actual mystery in The Devil’s Feast to be less involving than those in the previous novels, this didn’t affect my enjoyment. I love how M.J. Carter writes and how she immerses me in the historical setting, both in time and place. The people are so well drawn and many of them evoke lost worlds that continue to fascinate – Victorian politics and injustice, Radicalism, fashionable cuisine and inventions, service and poverty, prison and punishment. This is a series that rewards the reader in abundance.

Other posts
A review: The Printer’s Coffin (published in Hb as The Infidel Stain)
Guest post: Who were the Infidels?

The Lives of Tudor Women by Elizabeth Norton – ‘Of Babies and Bellies’

The Lives of Tudor Women by Elizabeth NortonThe Tudor period continues to fascinate – a period dominated by so many larger-than-life, charismatic, powerful, fearful, proud and dangerous personalities, male and female. But what was life like for a Tudor woman away from the public eye, in those major life-changing moments, such as marriage, giving birth, widowhood, but also in her daily life? In The Lives of Tudor Women, Elizabeth Norton presents the seven ages of the Tudor woman from childhood to old age, from the first years of the Tudor period to its end in 1603, through the examples of a number of very different women, ranging from the royal to the merchant’s wife to the peasant and servant. Their stories highlight many aspects of the Tudor age, including the intimate and homely as well as the religious and the unconventional.

To celebrate the publication of The Lives of Tudor Women this month by Head of Zeus, I’m delighted to host a special post. Below you’ll find an extract from Chapter 1 – of Babies and Bellies – in which Elizabeth of York, Henry VII’s queen, faces the anxiety of pregnancy and childbirth.

The Lives of Tudor Women – Book Extract from Chapter 1: Of Babies and Bellies

Towards the end of January or early February 1492, Queen Elizabeth of York, felt a familiar fluttering in her womb – a fluttering that provided proof that she had conceived for the fourth time.

Henry VII’s queen was, by then, close to the midway point of her pregnancy. But in the first months of pregnancy, the condition was notoriously difficult to diagnose. Could her symptoms merely be ‘her natural sickness or store of water’? Alternatively, could her increase in girth be due to ‘some windy matter’ rather than an expected baby? There were signs, of course, which could indicate pregnancy; but few physicians were prepared to confirm their diagnosis until the child actually began to stir in the womb. A mistake could be highly embarrassing for all concerned, and so for months women were left on tenterhooks.

The first gentle movements, when they came, were testament to the fact that a new life had begun. For as far as most Tudors were concerned, life did not begin at conception. The man’s seed entered ‘the woman’s privitie’ as one physician coyly called the neck of the womb, there to be met by a matching seed, released by the woman. To contemporaries, these were the raw materials for a child.

Even before conception, most Tudor parents had a preference for boys. They were then anxious for some hint that their wish had been gratified. It was theoretically possible, asserted some physicians, to tell the sex, since boys occupied a right chamber to a sub-divided womb and girls the left. This segregation was, of course, a myth (‘but dreams and fond fantasies’), as others rightly realized. Life itself was deemed to begin when the soul entered the fully formed foetus, which occurred at 46 days for a boy and 90 days for a girl. A Tudor girl was thus nearly three months in the womb before her contemporaries considered her to be a living person.

The question of gender still gnawed at the minds of many Tudor parents as the mother’s sickness subsided and her stomach began to swell; and most Tudor mothers wanted a son. The wealthier sort of parents could interrogate their physicians on the sex, their questioning filling the doctors with despair. ‘It is very hard to know at the first whether the woman be with child or no,’ complained the French royal physician, Dr Guillimeau, towards the end of the sixteenth century, and ‘so by great reason must it needs be far more difficult to discern and distinguish the difference of the sex, and to determine whether it will be a boy or a wench’. They were not miracle workers. But even Dr Guillimeau believed there were certain signs a mother could look for. Everyone knew that men were hotter than women, which gave them strength, intelligence and vigour. It stood to reason then that younger women, who became hotter than their seniors, would bear boys.

There were, it was thought, some helpful things prospective parents could do to better their chances of conceiving the right gender. Those most anxious for a boy should refrain from sexual intercourse when the wind blew southwards, since this was almost sure to result in a girl. The pregnant woman could also scrutinize her reflection – was her complexion clear? If so, it could be a boy. Carrying a girl was harder work, and so the mother would have ‘a pale, heavy, and swarth countenance, a melancholic eye’. Boys reputedly lay higher in the wombs than girls – again due to their heat – while a girl would lie ‘at the bottom of the belly, because of her coldness and weight’. Carrying a girl was even believed to affect a mother’s health more adversely than carrying a boy.

In early 1492, at least Queen Elizabeth of York could content herself that she had already fulfilled her dynastic duty, with the births of two fine sons – even though death could strike down seemingly healthy children at any moment.

Once pregnancy was established, it behoved a mother to ensure the health of both herself and her child. Spending her time in ‘good tempered air’ was particularly important, as was a good diet. Pregnant women also had to think about clothing, since few women owned an extensive wardrobe. Even queens adapted their existing clothes, with extra panels added to their dresses. They could supplement them with more-specific maternity wear, such as ‘self grow’ waistcoats, kirtles and gowns, which could be let out as the wearer’s pregnancy advanced. To begin with, gowns could first be unlaced to make them roomier, before more drastic changes were required. Women would also think about clothes for the birth itself. It was common for Tudor women to wear a hood with a shoulder cape in which to give birth.

Elizabeth of York may initially have had concerns over her fourth pregnancy, because she had conceived only three months after the birth of her second son, Henry, on 28 June 1491. Her husband, heir to the House of Lancaster, had won his crown on the field at Bosworth in August 1485 – inaugurating the Tudor dynasty. His marriage to Elizabeth, who was the eldest daughter of the Yorkist King Edward IV, had helped cement his position by unifying the houses that had fought for decades. To the royal couple, who were frequently surrounded by proud demonstrations of the new dynasty, each of their ‘issue lawfully born’ helped to symbolize their union and their hold on the throne. Nonetheless, such a rapid new pregnancy in 1492 – almost certainly an accident – was a cause for concern, given the very real dangers that threatened women in pregnancy and childbirth.

The Tourist by Robert Dickinson

The Tourist | Robert Dickinson | 2016 (20 October) | Orbit | 320p | Review copy | Buy the book

The Tourist by Robert DickinsonTime travel – the tourism of the future into the past. And for those who live in the relatively grim and unappealing 24th century, there’s nothing quite like the 21st century for a holiday destination. Resorts have sprung up all over the place in this bygone century, the locals are almost used to the idea of these time travellers in their midst. As for the travellers – all those trees, shops and so many people! Something happened later in the 21st century, something apocalyptic. Discussing it with the indigenous 21st century population isn’t the done thing but these descendants of the survivors relish the chance to immerse themselves in this more innocent time.

The tour guide is kept busy escorting groups back and forth though time. He would love to go back further into time – the chance to watch the great composers present their masterpieces – but the rules of time travel are complex and watched over by the disapproving eye of the mysterious people of the 25th century. But it’s a good job. Until the day when he returns home and a female passenger is missing. She has been left behind and, it’s soon apparent, the tourist is not quite what she seems. The tour guide follows her trail and the mystery deepens.

I’m not going to say anymore about the plot for two reasons. Firstly, I wouldn’t want to spoil anything and, secondly, I wouldn’t be able to tell you even if I wanted to. The premise of The Tourist is fantastic. I love novels about time travel, even more so when there’s an apocalyptic tale in there as well. I’m also a big fan of science fiction thrillers and I read a fair few of them and even if I can’t understand the science behind them (I’ve enjoyed a number of quantum physics thrillers recently) it doesn’t stop the fun. My issue with The Tourist is not with the science particularly – this was left suitably vague – but with the plotting, the frequent jumping between past and present, and the mix of perspectives (first person and second person – the latter a difficult perspective to read at the best of times). It’s fair to say that for the vast majority of the time I didn’t have a clue what was going on, which character I was with, and what the mystery was all about. The ending left me none the wiser.

There are some elements of the novel I did enjoy. Its mood and atmosphere are wonderful and I found myself thinking about the novel whenever I wasn’t reading it. It wasn’t difficult to pick it up even when I felt so clueless. There are some fantastic ideas in it – the resorts, the people from the future who choose to live in the past, the interaction between people from the past with the guests from the future, the odd 25th-century people, the apocalypse. And I was waiting for these themes to be explored far more than they were. I wanted to get to know the characters better because they intrigued me. But there were too many times when I didn’t even know which character was which due to the confusing structure.

Ultimately, for me, The Tourist didn’t succeed as a thriller because I couldn’t follow it. The science fiction elements were more successful but weren’t developed enough for my curiosity. The author undoubtedly writes well and his imagination and creativity are vast and original – just what I want in science fiction – but I do hope that in future novels some allowance is made for the poor reader who wants so much to understand. Having said all that, this isn’t a novel I’ll forget in a hurry thanks to its atmosphere of foreboding and its pleasingly unusual treatment of time travel.

The Plague Road by L.C. Tyler

The Plague Road | L.C. Tyler | 2016 | Constable | 310p | Review copy | Buy the book

The Plague Road by L.C. TylerIt is 1665 and London is at the mercy of the Plague. Swathes of the city have become no go areas, many of the houses sealed with a cross on the door, a warden keeping watch for any who dare risk an escape from a house that has been damned by disease. But, despite the increasing death toll, life is still not regarded as completely cheap and when it is noticed that one of the corpses thrown into a plague pit has a knife sticking out of his back justice must be seen to be done. It is possible that this enthusiasm might have been encouraged by the fact that the man was known to have been carrying a secret letter, now missing, from the Duke of York (the King’s brother) to the French Ambassador. Nonetheless, John Grey, lawyer and sometime agent for Lord Arlington, the Secretary of State, is given the case to solve. What did the letter say? Who has it now? What on earth was the Duke of York up to? No doubt the dead man matters to someone, somewhere, but never mind that, where is the letter?!

Several years have passed since the events depicted in A Masterpiece of Corruption. Back then, Cromwell was in power and Grey was forced into the unenviable role of double agent. Life is simpler now after the Restoration even if political or religious beliefs must continue to stay secret. Republicans, such as Grey, have been re-accommodated into public life. But it is early days. People still fear another outbreak of civil war and the Duke of York’s behaviour isn’t helping matters. Neither, for that matter, is the Plague.

The Plague Road might be the next novel in the John Grey series by L.C. Tyler but it stands very well alone. It continues the unconventional relationship between Grey and the royalist Lady Aminta Pole but otherwise, in many ways, this novel begins things afresh. And it is populated by some fascinating characters, especially Samuel Pepys, the glamorous Lady Castlemaine and the rather extraordinary Father Horncastle who does more than anyone to stir up trouble during these pages.

In my opinion, The Plague Road is a big step up from its predecessor. I found A Masterpiece of Corruption over complicated and a little dry in places. I had no such issues with The Plague Road. This novel is wonderfully plotted and structured, the pace maintained throughout, and it is deliciously witty. It’s a dark story at times, which is all to the good, but it is enlightened by John Grey’s fabulous turn of phrase, particularly when he has to deal with people who bore him. I chortled regularly while reading The Plague Road, not something I expected to say about a book immersed in Plague, murder and conspiracies.

I couldn’t read The Plague Road fast enough, it is such an engrossing novel, immersed in its period. Its descriptions of the Plague and its pitiable victims are grim but I couldn’t look away, and just as horrifying are the scenes which demonstrate the impact of the Plague on communities around London and in the countryside. During the novel Grey must travel to Salisbury, a journey that in these times is almost impossibly difficult and dangerous to complete. And yet the fear is totally understandable, if ugly, and it’s captured so well here.

I felt that I got to know John Grey and Aminta Pole much better in The Plague Road and I grew to like them very much indeed. This series has come into its own and I’m most definitely looking forward to more as L.C. Tyler escorts us through these most troublesome and fascinating years in England’s history.

Other review
A Masterpiece of Corruption

Killing Kate by Alex Lake

Killing Kate | Alex Lake | 2016 | Harper | 406p | Review copy | Buy the book

Killing Kate by Alex LakeKate has just split up with Phil, her longterm boyfriend, and he hasn’t taken it at all well. She decides that a few days’ holiday with her best friends will help her to clear her head and put it all behind her. But when she gets back, she discovers that a woman in her home town has been murdered. It makes Kate stop and think. The murder victim looks an awful lot like she does. This could be just a troubling coincidence but when another lookalike is murdered, and then another, and it feels like she’s being followed, Kate learns the meaning of real fear. It couldn’t be Phil, could it?

Killing Kate is such a fantastic thriller, not least because it begins as one thing and then explodes into something else, moving back and forth through time and between characters, that grabs you by the gut and twists. When I started the novel, I thought I knew what I was getting, its beginning following a familiar, albeit entertaining path. But all that was blown away after a few chapters and it stampeded along, and, as for the final third, this is truly brilliant – in a terrifying, breathless, horrific, fabulous kind of way. I shouldn’t have been surprised, I enjoyed Alex Lake’s previous novel After Anna enormously and Killing Kate, if anything, is even better.

Alex Lake knows her craft inside out. She creates believable, real people and places them in situations that might be terrifying but they also seem fearfully plausible, and she grabs hold of the reader and does not let go until the final page. I couldn’t ask for anything more from a crime thriller or psychological thriller or however you’d wish to classify this.

I don’t really want to tell you anything else about Killing Kate. It’s best to read it knowing as little as possible. But I must say how clever it is, how well Alex Lake writes, how well she tells a story, how little she needs to rely on twists to pull off a thriller as good this. For the second year running, she has written one of the best crime novels of the year and is now most definitely among my list of favourite thriller authors. As for that title….. should I be worried?

Other review
After Anna