Thoughts In Pictured Passages: Glaciers – Alexis M. Smith

Publisher’s Summary:
“Isabel is a single, twentysomething thrift-store shopper and collector of remnants, things cast off or left behind by others. Glaciers follows Isabel through a day in her life in which work with damaged books in the basement of a library, unrequited love for the former soldier who fixes her computer, and dreams of the perfect vintage dress move over a backdrop of deteriorating urban architecture and the imminent loss of the glaciers she knew as a young girl in Alaska.

Glaciers unfolds internally, the action shaped by Isabel’s sense of history, memory, and place. For Isabel, the fleeting moments of one day can reveal an entire life. While she contemplates loss and the intricate fissures it creates in our lives, she accumulates the stories—the remnants—of those around her and she begins to tell her own story.”

I don’t feel particularly qualified to discuss this book. I’m certain there are layers of meaning that I left untouched; that there were connections to be made and I left the pieces on an outskirt, separated by miles. Perhaps it would be best, then, to not wade in at all. To add Glaciers to my list of books read and move on. If not for all of the creased corners, each dog-ear marking a page that dug through my admittedly shallow reading and curled up in my mind or heart, purring, I might have considered doing that. But I didn’t want to keep these words to myself, so I thought, why not do a post of favorite passages? If one slips its finger along your spine, you might want to try this slim novel of loss and longing and finding yourself in between.

Apologies, as always, for the blur. Cell phone and one hand trying in vain to hold the book fully open equal blurry around the edges.

In the picture below, all of the left page and above the page break on the right (click on picture to enlarge):

Mariana – Susanna Kearsley

Publisher’s Summary:
“Julia Beckett believes in destiny. When she moves into Greywethers, a beautiful sixteenth-century farmhouse, she suspects that more than coincidence has brought her there. The locals are warm and welcoming, especially the eligible squire of Crofton Hall, yet beneath the ordinariness, Julia senses a haunting sadness about her new home. Then she learns of Mariana, a beautiful young woman who lived there three hundred years ago. It seems history has been waiting for Julia.”

Unfair it may have been, but I held Mariana up to the high standard set by The Winter Sea; I’ve no one to blame but myself for the malcontent that dug in upon finishing the novel. My expectations were unreasonably high, true, but I was aware of that bias and, not wanting to give the second of Kearsley’s books I’ve read short shrift, I read Mariana again. I’m happy to say it improved upon that second reading.

Kearsley’s storytelling is not at issue here; it’s engaging, assured and heartfelt. So it’s not that I wasn’t absorbed, that I ever felt taken by an urge to set the book down; on the contrary, I read it straight through. What inspired my initial disappointment with the book was a feeling of disconnect from the present-day couple. I cannot, however, go into detail because to do so would be to spoil several plot points. I’ll just say this: in The Winter Sea, both couples’ romance engaged my emotions, but Mariana’s resolution didn’t have the same emotional payoff. Initially. That second reading allowed me to see things more clearly, and I found myself more at ease with and satisfied by the ending.

Once again, I enjoyed the characters individually, appreciated the setting’s strong presence in the story, and immediately wanted to jump to another of Kearsley’s books to hold her special brand of magic close a little longer. Her books have moved into my comfort category; I know I’ll go to them when I’m feeling a little low and need a lift. And so, despite my at-first disappointment and that one remaining reservation, I would recommend Mariana to fans of Kearsley’s work, and to anyone who enjoys a story that wraps around you like a warm blanket on a dreary day.

The Winter Sea – Susanna Kearsley

Publisher’s Summary:
“In the spring of 1708, an invading Jacobite fleet of French and Scottish soldiers nearly succeeded in landing the exiled James Stewart in Scotland to reclaim his crown.

Now, Carrie McClelland hopes to turn that story into her next bestselling novel. Settling herself in the shadow of Slains Castle, she creates a heroine named for one of her own ancestors and starts to write.

But when she discovers her novel is more fact than fiction, Carrie wonders if she might be dealing with ancestral memory, making her the only living person who knows the truth-the ultimate betrayal-that happened all those years ago, and that knowledge comes very close to destroying her…”

I finished The Winter Sea weeks ago. Each day since has borne the touch of my enjoyment of the story, be it a scene unraveling in my mind, or my hands reaching for the book once more so that I might wrap myself up in bits of dialogue or description. For having immensely enjoyed, revisited, and thought about The Winter Sea, you might imagine writing about it would come easily. If only that were true.

There is a reason why, looking at this not-quite blank post template, I hardly know how to continue: I’m trying to view a story that swept me off my feet analytically. I’ve been attempting to approach this review as if the story was a wall I needed to break apart, explaining the strength of each brick as it comes down. Impossible. For the length of time you spend reading The Winter Sea, it is all encompassing.

Rather than try to force it, I’ll simply add my recommendation to Angie’s (her review captures the essence of all that is wonderful about The Winter Sea), and urge you to seek out a copy so you might see for yourself.

House of Silence – Linda Gillard

Summary:
“Orphaned by drink, drugs and rock n’ roll, Gwen Rowland is invited to spend Christmas at her boyfriend Alfie’s family home, Creake Hall – a ramshackle Tudor manor in Norfolk. She’s excited about the prospect of a proper holiday with a proper family, but soon after she arrives, Gwen senses something isn’t quite right. Alfie acts strangely toward his family and is reluctant to talk about the past. His mother, a celebrated children’s author, keeps to her room, living in a twilight world, unable to distinguish between past and present, fact and fiction. And then there’s the enigma of an old family photograph…

When Gwen discovers fragments of forgotten family letters sewn into an old patchwork quilt, she starts to piece together the jigsaw of the past and realises there’s more to the family history than she’s been told. It seems there are things people don’t want her to know.

And one of those people is Alfie…”

Linda Gillard’s House of Silence effortlessly captivates. The story, which weaves the tension and isolation of the gothic novel into a mystery that winds its threads around a discourse on familial ties, does not disappoint from its first sentence to its last. It is, you see, a story full of moments: insightful moments that reverberate against an inner thought, perception or emotion; quiet, hold your breath moments that are sweeter for their bare simplicity; gasping moments at the precipice of a fall. House of Silence invokes one of the best reading experiences: it’s voraciously read, and lingers on.

The characters that reside within the pages of Gillard’s novels are textured; they charm the reader – this reader, at least – because of their quirks and flaws, not in spite of them. They are, all of them, deeply real, struggling under the weight of previous trespasses, coping with the pains and pleasures of their pasts. Gwen, the heroine of this particular novel, buried the trauma of hers under a blanket of reason and fortitude. Just as Alfie playacted around it, Hattie sewed it down, and Marek pruned it. These people, these characters – and not just the four I mentioned – are emotionally engaging because they haven’t buried, acted, sewn, or pruned deep enough to keep their turmoil from rising to the surface. I, for one, wanted to stand witness when all of it – the lies, the attempt at avoidance, the misdirection – broke. You will too; that’s a promise.

It’s highly unfortunate that House of Silence was overlooked by traditional publishing houses, but it is undoubtedly and assuredly their loss. In turn, I hope that you will not let its format (as a Kindle ebook release*) stop you from discovering this deliciously involving, wonderfully written novel.

“Well, that’s the nature of families, isn’t it? Everyone trying to accomdate everyone else. Struggling to like people they’d normally cross the road to avoid. Trying hard not to dig up buried hatchets.”

Stop by tomorrow for Linda Gillard’s guest post on visualizing characters.

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*It would be remiss of me to not point out that the Kindle app can be downloaded to most portable devices, and that House of Silence is an absolute steal at $2.99.

The Raven Queen – Jules Watson

Publisher’s Summary: “She was born to be a pawn, used to secure her father’s royal hold on his land. She was forced to advance his will through marriage—her own desires always thwarted. But free-spirited Maeve will no longer endure the schemes of her latest husband, Conor, the cunning ruler of Ulster. And when her father’s death puts her homeland at the mercy of its greedy lords and Conor’s forces, Maeve knows she must at last come into her own power to save it.

With secret skill and daring, Maeve proves herself the equal of any warrior on the battlefield. With intelligence and stealth, she learns the strategies—and sacrifices—of ruling a kingdom through treacherous alliances. And to draw on the dangerous magic of her country’s oldest gods, Maeve seeks out the wandering druid Ruan, whose unexpected passion and strange connection to the worlds of spirit imperil everything Maeve thought true about herself—and put her at war with both her duty and her fate.”

Regarding historical fiction and fiction based on legend or myth, I’ve always wondered if prior knowledge would appreciably affect my response to a given book. In this case, whereas I held a passing familiarity with Deirdre (from The Swan Maiden), I knew little about Maeve. Tempted as I am by Celtic myth and Irish history, I was eager to get to know her through The Raven Queen.

Finding words to describe Maeve is not a hard task: determined, enduring, weary. Those are a few that come first to mind, but they paint a shallow picture, and as descriptors go they’re easily gleaned through either action or an internal allusion on her part. In my review of The Swan Maiden I wrote “…you sink into a knowing of the characters, but they somehow remain as elusive as a summer storm.” For me, while Deirdre was at least accessible, Maeve was almost unknowable. I wonder if that wasn’t intentional: Could anyone truly know the psyche of a woman who, for so long, was not her own; who was ruled by contempt and fear, and whipped by the fervent need to rebel, to reclaim her body and mind? I found that, often, I could not. Sympathy warred with brow-arching doubt over some of her decisions; at times I was behind her, pom-poms waving, while at others I was alienated from her. Regardless, Jules Watson made me think about Maeve not only as a larger-than-life legend, but also as a woman desperate for independence, struggling to find her place and hold it.

With so much to take in with Maeve alone, some of the other characters admittedly fell by the wayside as I read. The one thing I can say is that I appreciated the fact that Watson balanced the cruelty and condescension of the majority of the men in Maeve’s life with a few that tried to understand and support her. If it had been too one sided the story would have suffered for it.

As with The Swan Maiden, Watson once again pays attention to detail, taking advantage of the time period and setting to create a visual, compelling backdrop. This time around, however, I found the writing to be more straight-forward, which fit the tone of the story and Maeve herself. As for the pace, it was a bit slow-going, but that could (and likely should) be put down to my recently diminished attention span.

One last note: The Swan Maiden and The Raven Queen are interconnected stories; they can be read separately or as standalone titles, but hindsight being what it is, I would have held off on reading The Swan Maiden until just before The Raven Queen was available. To be able to really see the stories weave together rather than rely on a faulty memory would have made them that much better, I bet.

Previously: The Raven Queen Blog Tour Schedule

Emotional Geology ~ Linda Gillard

Publisher’s Summary:
“Rose Leonard is on the run from her life. Taking refuge in a remote island community, she cocoons herself in work, silence and solitude in a house by the sea. But she is haunted by her past, by memories and desires she’d hoped were long dead. Rose must decide whether she has in fact chosen a new life or just a different kind of death. Life and love are offered by new friends, her lonely daughter, and most of all Calum, a fragile younger man who has his own demons to exorcise. But does Rose, with her tenuous hold on life and sanity, have the courage to say yes to life and put her past behind her?”

If not for Angie, the likelihood of my finding and/or picking up Emotional Geology would be slim. But pick it up I did, and I’m glad of it because, as Angie said, the story delivers.

There’s the setting: The terrain of North Uist, from looming rock faces to the smooth side of a pebble, plays a pivotal role. The landscape shapes and often appears in Rose’s textile art; the allure and danger the cliffs and mountains represent is ever present, a source of heartache in a previous relationship; the comfort to be found, surrounded by trees, and the quiet that embraces her new home. And, really, the story itself is every bit as rocky as those mountains, one’s footing never assured. Metaphors and themes aside, the descriptions are lovely and visual.

There’s Rose, who struck me with her honesty, and surprised me with her willingness to be open and up front about her mental illness. Her unease at times is palpable, as is her despair, which makes for a successful emotional hook. Too, the narration, which occasionally switches from first person to third, keeps you slightly off balanced, echoing, I believe, Rose’s state of mind. (The switch, when it happens, isn’t jarring though, if that’s a point of concern.) And there’s Calum who had me at, well, Calum. But then he reinforced his hold with his patience, the depth of his own fears, and the way he interacts with the children he teaches. It doesn’t hurt that Scotland is there in his voice, an unintentional seductive punch. To say the least, I became quite invested in the pair, separately and as a couple.

Everything about this book is treated with frankness: Mental illness, sex, grief, betrayal. No punches pulled here. And the decisive nature of the characters beautifully supports the relationships, whether mature and earned or struggling and painful, encountered in the story.

I’ve hinted to those wanting a wishlist from me that Emotional Geology would make a lovely gift – I know there will be times when I’ll want to revisit the characters, to reread certain passages – and that Gillard’s other novel, Star Gazing, would be most welcome as well. And because that’s so I must once again thank Angie for pointing me not only in the right direction, but in one I might not have headed towards otherwise.