Book Review: Britain's Folklore Year by Mark Norman

 

I love folklore. As a result (and as you might expect) I've read quite a lot about it, and in quite a lot of detail. This book is best considered as an introduction. If you're looking for a something that delves into the social and psychological origins of folklore in any depth you will probably be disappointed. If, on the other hand, you're a folklore novice, or you just want a fairly simple round-up of local traditions, then this is pretty much spot on. 

It's a chronological consideration of Britain's folklore, beginning in spring (with more than a nod to both the ecclesiastical and agricultural calendars) and rounds off at the end of winter, and it looks at different traditions, where they occur, how they vary and what they have in common. 

It's wide-ranging in scope and therefore doesn't allow itself the luxury of looking at some of the more significant customs that persist in different variations across the UK (for example, the Mari Lwyd and Plough Monday are two ancient traditions that deserve a lot more exploration than the author has space for). But again: if it's an introduction you're looking for then that is what you've got. 

The range of traditions is also extremely wide, from the ancient pre-Christian rituals associated, in particular, with the transitions between the seasons, to very much more modern 'traditions' that are artificial and which, while they might one day become long-standing and historic, are currently very much what I would consider commercial events rather than folkloric celebrations. That includes such things as the World Stinging Nettle Eating Championships and the International Festival of Worm Charming. 

It's a quick, fun gallop through some of the quirkier aspects of the UK's heritage, some of it more authentic than other parts, and I thoroughly enjoyed it -- without, I have to say, finding myself hugely better-informed as a result. 

Book Review: Tracing Your Staffordshire Ancestors by Chloe O'Shea

It’s a bit niche, this one, but as I have an interest in history (and a shedload of Staffordshire ancestors, to boot) I thought I’d give it a go. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting from it, especially since my dad had done a lot of the legwork on my family tree in the days before the internet, and the framework of it is pretty much complete (enhanced a little by myself at a later stage), but I’m curious.

It’s actually a truly admirable and extremely thorough book. In the beginning I was yawning bit, but that’s because not was approaching the subject with the intention of helping those starting from scratch, and what seems glaringly obvious (when you’ve done a bit of genealogical research) isn’t (if you haven’t).

From the basics of births, marriages and deaths, however, the book moved swiftly on to reveal a whole host of other sources which had never occurred to me as possibilities. There are newspaper articles and court papers, manorial rolls, schools information, estate maps and records, company archives and so much more. For each source, Chloe O’Shea outlines what kind of material might be available, gives examples, and directs the reader to specific sources for those whose ancestors come from Staffordshire. It’s also realistic about the difficulties that a researcher may encounter and gives practical tips to avoid falling into a wide variety of traps that might lead down a blind alley — or, indeed, to someone else’s ancestor!

Despite its county-specific title, the book is of much wider value: it won’t be difficult to work out where to look for information in other English counties. It’s a pity I don’t have the time these days to go chasing the higher branches of my family tree. If I did I think I would be able to find much more than the basic information which I already have. I was unaware of the wealth of available information and how much it could add to an understanding, not just of one’s own family, but of wider social history in the local area. 

After a slow start, I definitely found this book a worthwhile read. 

 

Book Review: A Murder on the Mountain by Ellie Alexander

I don’t know it it’s just me (maybe it’s the books I’m picking up) but cosy crime seems to be trending these days towards the cosy and away from the crime. So it was with Ellie Alexander’s A Murder on the Mountain, and it’s fine, it really is, but…it’s just short on what I’m looking for in a crime novel. 

The book is set in Portland, Oregon, where wannabe investigative reporter Meg finds herself with a job at an extreme sports publication. Here, naturally, she is required to become involved in extreme sports at which (of course) she is inexperienced and so, expectedly, gets herself into a lot of scrapes. During one of these, as she is covering the filming of an extreme sports competition, she witnesses one of the competitors falling past her to his death as she clings to the side of a mountain. 

It wouldn’t be cosy crime of Meg didn’t immediately need to get to the bottom of it, despite being warned off by both the sheriff and a mysterious personage we assume to be the killer. So far, so mainstream. 

The trouble is, I found it all a bit…twee. It’s not just that Meg is improbably ditzy for a reporter, and keeps getting herself into situations which would have been avoided if she’d done as the Sheriff told her and stayed at home. It’s that the crime itself is incredibly sketchy. There are no witnesses to see how the victims came to fall and yet the Sheriff concludes that it’s homicide. We never find out why. Most of the investigation is Meg digging around to find out  the background of the contestants which, let’s face it, is something the police would be perfectly able to do for themselves — probably rather better and rather quicker. 

What we did get, instead of the crime, was a lot of froth. We had the detail on what Meg snd her friends wear, and eat, and detailed explanations of where they live. The secondary characters — friends, family, suspects — are stereotypes and without depth. Difficult mother, grandmother into crystals and alternative therapy, handsome boss vs male best friend, successful female best friend with smug boyfriend — the tropes are all there but there’s nothing to make them any more than one dimensional. That said, Meg herself, despite being on the irritating side, does at least have a complex backstory with which I was engaged, though not enough to read on beyond the end of this book to discover more.

I loved the setting, though, and was following the action with Google Maps open on my phone. The descriptions were great and really evoked the awe-inspiring setting of the Columbia Rover and its gorge, and I did like the touch of including information about all the locations at the end of the book. 

Overall, though the tone veered way too much towards the frothiness of a light romcom for my taste. Cosy or not, I’m looking for a little bit more of an edge than this in a crime novel, I’m afraid.

Book Review: The Forty Rules of Love by Elif Shafak

I’ll be up front. Prior to reading this book my experience of reading Elif Shafak (two books, There are Rivers in the Sky and The Island of Missing Trees) propelled her right up near the top of my list of favourite writers. On that basis alone I was looking forward to The Forty Rules of Love. And maybe partly because my expectations were so high, I was disappointed.

The book is a dual timeline, balancing a journey of self-discovery for Ella, a middle-class liberal Jewish housewife in the States, against the historical story of the relationship between the thirteenth century Turkish poet, Rumi, and the whirling Dervish, Shams of Tabriz. I’m always a bit sceptical of this format, though normally Shafak does it well. Too often I find that one strand outweighs the other and so it proved in this case. Ella’s storyline felt dull to me and a faint echo of the historical story, rather than offering any kind of enrichment of it. I was less interested in her boredom than with the richness of what felt to me like the main story.

This, then, is a matter of historical fact in which the renowned Rumi becomes obsessed with his spiritual teacher, alienating many people along the way and inspiring many others, until events reach a tragic conclusion. Both Rumi and Shams are still quoted today and the book takes the reader through Shams’ Forty Rules of Love, showing us events through a lot of different points of view, which I liked.

So far so good, but I did find that for much of the book I was sucked into dense paragraphs and pages of philosophical exposition. The minor characters, who by and large don’t get bogged down in this kind of detail, are much the most entertaining and engaging (even the baddies). Shams comes across as alternatively too good or too bad to be true (perhaps that’s deliberate) and Rumi, the leader, seems overwhelmed by him to the point of neglecting family and friends. 

I found the religious debate and discussions o overwhelming that they were almost suffocating; too much of it felt as if I was being lectured, rather than encouraged, about a better way to live my life. When I compare that with the sparkling storytelling and clever construction of, say There Are Rivers in the Sky, I have to admit I was disappointed, and it took me a lot longer to read than I had thought. 

Just because this book isn’t as good as I expected doesn’t, of course, make it bad and I’m sure many other will people enjoy it. But for me, it’s not Shafak’s best. 

Book Review: The Keeper of Lost Art by Lelita Baldock

The Keeper of Lost Art is based on historical events in the Second World War in the southern Italian port city of Bari. Siena Innocente, a young woman on the run from wartime Rome, arrives at the home of noted artist Aurio di Bari in search of sanctuary. He’s away fighting in the war, but his family, led by his daughter Alessia, welcome Siena into their home. As war proceeds and its horrors unfold, we learn not just of Siena’s past but also the truth about the family in which she has been welcomed. 

I really loved the setting for this story. It’s an unusual twist on the usual wartime tale and I liked that. Lelita Baldock depicts both the beauties of Italy and the privations of war, and her descriptions of how the community came together (and, just occasionally, fractured) in its desperation to survive, are utterly absorbing. The historical detail, including the historical context of the struggle against fascism, was fascinating.

The story is told from three different points of view: Alessia, Siena and, in a jump back in time, Eva, a young woman studying art in Florence in 1921. I thought the story was very busy, perhaps overly so, and I did find myself wondering whether it all hung together quite as well as it might. Some of the turns in the plot were well-worn and came as no surprise, though I did find the twist at the very end extremely satisfactory.

To make something so complicated work (and with so many apparently unconnected characters somehow coming together at the end) while maintaining some sense of credibility is quite the challenge and to do that while keeping secrets from the reader is more complicated. I wasn’t sure it worked. With two characters changing their name in the course of the book I felt the author was trying too hard to have everything hinge on coincidence. (I guessed one of the changes and suspected  the other.) 

In another, less well written book, I might have found that more frustrating, but this is elegantly written and the characters are human, both likeable and believable. I thoroughly enjoyed this book.  

Thanks to Storm Publishing and Netgalley for an advance copy of this book in return for an honest review. 

Book Review: Für Elise by Mark Splitstone

This book attracted me because of its premise — a retelling of the Rip van Winkle tale, which is referred to a number of times in the text. Rather than falling asleep for twenty years, the protagonist (Hans) leaves Dresden and his teenage sweetheart (Elise) when he’s conscripted into the Wehrmacht during the Second World War. After thirteen years being held as a prisoner of war in the Soviet Union he returns to find that not only has the city changed beyond all measure, but the political situation and the whole culture he left has changed, too.

The book is in two parts and for me it took too long to get to the interesting part. Hans’s developing relationship with Elise didn’t hold my attention for that long and a lot of it felt irrelevant knowing what was to come. Once Hans returned and faced the demons of what had happened both to his city and to the people he loved, and had to come to terns with a new political situation that was hostile to him, the book became much more interesting and there was much more of a sene of purpose about it. It got better as it went on and the ending had a twist that I genuinely didn’t expect — so, hats off to the author for that! 

That said, the book isn’t without its issues. To my disappointment it lacked any real sense of place— something that’s crucial in a location-dependent book such as this. I don’t mean that it lacked detail, because it didn’t: the descriptions of the cityscape before and after Hans’s exile were, as far as I can tell, immaculate. The problem was in the telling. Party it’s because it’s an American book written in American English and had no nod to its central European setting. Even a small touch, such as the odd word in German (such as a character addressing their mother as mutti rather than mom) might have lifted it a little and made a difference. 

I hate to say it, but the main problem I have with this is that the writing was pedestrian at best and that made it pretty hard to read at times. The story, as I’ve said, is thrilling at points (certainly once it gets going) but I always felt I was very distant from it. Neither the characters nor the place (and I’ve recently been to Dresden and read a lot of eye-witness accounts of what happened there) felt real to me and even the graphic (and accurate) descriptions of the horrors of the firestorm failed to touch my emotions as they ought to. It was all telling and almost no showing and I’m sorry to say that in many places I found it dull. I thought the dialogue was clunky and I never really felt invested in the characters. I didn’t feel their fear or their pain; I was’t shocked or angry as I read. I just read, without emotion and that’s definitely not what I would look for in a story dealing with such traumatic events. 

I think that’s a pity because, as I say, this offered a great story and a really interesting premise. But I’m sorry: I just think it could have been delivered a whole lot better.

Thank to Netgalley and the author for a copy of this book in return for an honest review. 

Review: The Secret Detective Agency by Helena Dixon

Oooh! A Second World War spy thriller-cum-murder mystery! Who could resist a book set in a period so rich with intrigue, especially when the setting is the Home Front, much cosier than anything in a more military setting? In this book (of course, no spoilers!) the focus is on the unlikely partnership between severe Londoner, Jane Treen, who is involved in co-ordinating a network of spies on the continent, and Devonshire country gentleman Arthur Cilento (a codebreaker and a young man physically unable to serve). When one of Jane’s spy network turns up, dead, on Arthur’s country estate, the pair are forced to work together to catch a killer and prevent more murders.

This book appealed to me for a reason other than the setting and genre — the author. I’ve read and enjoyed several of Helena Dixon’s Miss Underhay mysteries (and will eventually get round to the rest when my TBR permits) and so I reckoned I’d have a look and see how the author handled a different period. 

Well now. As I say, I enjoyed Miss Underhay very much but…whisper it…I think I like this fledgling series even more. It’s hard to judge on just one book, but I’ll definitely read on. All of the expected qualities in terms of writing, characterisation and setting are present. For me what made it different is that the context is much more serious — an existential crisis for the nation, rather than the often-frivolous 1930s) and so the stakes are higher. 

I became very invested not just in the success of Jane and Arthur’s investigations but in the relationship between the two very different main characters and the contrast between Jane’s stark London life (the descriptions of the aftermath of the Blitz are grimly fascinating) and Arthur’s much more cosseted country situation.

I look forward to reading more. 

Thanks to Netgalley and Bookouture for an advanced copy of this book in return for an honest review.